Creepy - Class of 2013

Episode Date: August 21, 2023

You can't go home again...***Written by: B.A. Ries***Bonus Episode: "Medical Records Fiasco" written by No One of Consequence and narrated by Nate DuFort***Check out our reward tiers at patreon.com/creepypod***Sound Design by Pacific Obadiah***Title music by Alex Aldea Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

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and disturbing creepypastas and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened or are simply fabrications is for you to disqualify. These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. Creepy Presents Class of 2013 Written by B.A. Rise.

There's a saying in my hometown. Nobody leaves Copper Hill for good. For years I'd mostly managed to defy it. In the decade that followed my graduation from Copperhill High School, I hardly set foot in its vicinity. Instead, I absorbed myself in my studies and now to State University and eventually my career. I spent the little free time I had with my girlfriend, who I'd met as a sophomore in a chemistry lab, and her friends. When we eventually broke up, I lost not only her, but also a little social life I had. It was in this state of loneliness that I found a letter from my old high school in the mail.

This surprised me as I hadn't realized that anyone there even knew my current mailing address. I opened the envelope to find an invitation inside. Its design was fancier than I'd expected, complete with gold-colored glitter, a royal blue background, and a finely drawn silver border. It read in cursive letters, Cheers for ten years. Zach

Please join us for the CHS class of 2013 official reunion. It went on to list the start time in the school's address. On its back, it even contained a personalized handwritten note. I know you live far away, Zach, but it would mean so much to me if you could make the trip. Paul and I will be there, and Arthur may fly in as well. I'd love to catch up. Hope to see you soon. Signed, Vince.

Co-chair, C-H-H-HS, Reunion Planning Committee. Vince had been one of my best friends once. You see, Copper Hill is one of those rare small towns where you can easily graduate from high school alongside the same friends you first made in kindergarten. In my case, my buddy's Arthur, Paul, and Vince. I'd spent most of my youth with them. The four of us were in the same scout troop,

played on the same sports teams, and took mostly the same class. On weekends and on weeknights when we felt like sneaking out without permission, we'd often stayed up late together playing video games and drinking whatever cheap beer we managed to keep hidden from our parents. We'd meant so much to each other once. So why, since graduation, and I neglected them so badly? I couldn't even remember the last time I'd talked to any of them. Perhaps a reunion could serve as an opportunity for me to reignite friendships

I'd let fade. At a minimum, I knew that spending time, even just one evening, with my old pals, would do me a lot of good, especially considering how lonely I'd been lately. Accordingly, I resolved to attend. By the time I reached Copperhill, I was an hour behind schedule due to congestion caused by an accident. As I approached town, I observed amidst the fading evening light, that it appeared even quieter and more deserted than I remembered.

Bars that had reliably drawn decent crowds on a Friday night ranged from boarded up to barely occupied. Meanwhile, the few other cars on the street drove lethargically at speeds far below the limit, and I spotted no pedestrians. In my memory, the school was only a short distance from the courthouse, city hall, and post office that formed most of downtown. But my GPS took me down a long, unfamiliar route, borderer. on both sides by tall cornfields. I was about to pull over and double-checked the address.

I'd entered one, sure enough. My headlights illuminated a sign in the school's distinct black and red colors that stated, CHS, Home of the Patriots. The brick building that loomed behind it was just as I remembered, from its tall, towering middle section to the two narrower wings that stretched out to the left and right. Through the rectangular windows that lined the main building, I made out indistinct, shadowy figures milling around inside. A banner displaying, welcome, 10 years, CHS reunion, stretched over the stairs that led to the main entrance.

Underneath it, a familiar figure scurried towards the main entrance. Arthur, I said to myself with a smile. Seeing Arthur improve my mood, he was the only other member of our class to leave town after graduation. and I suspected that he might share somewhat of an outsider status with me. Just like old times, I reassured myself as I approached the building. Strangely, though, it still didn't feel that way. For one, the air had a staleness to it that was difficult to describe. It felt artificial and thin such that as I climb the front steps,

I found myself needing to breathe in more of it than usual to avoid getting winded. Plus, the school's location still seemed off somehow. It didn't make any sense. It's not like a building this large could be relocated. But amidst the eerily quiet surrounding countryside, everything felt more isolated and remote than I remembered it being. I tried to stop worrying. After all, with any luck, I'd soon be laughing and, reminiscing with old friends who'd be happy to see me.

Inside, balloon garlands, multi-colored streamers, triangle flags, and small banners welcoming attendees decorated the main corridor. I observed tables stocked with snacks, pamphlets, and information about fundraisers. The only noise came from the intercom, which played an era-appropriate Kelvin Harris song. Everything necessary for a reunion was there, with only one notable exception. The people. As I approached an unmanned table marked check-in, I wondered where everybody had gone.

Perhaps the event had moved to a different room? I was late, after all. As I added my signature to a sign-in sheet, my scan the list of other attendees who were marked as having already arrived. I recognized many names on it, like Alice, who'd shared a stand with me in orchestra. Our conductor was a hard-ass, real disciplinarian, who snapped at us constantly, and Alice was one of the many students who'd driven to tears on a

semi-regular basis. I'd had this petty fantasy of comforting her after class, and then mustering the courage to ask her out, but I never did it. It was Vince, actually, who had ended up with her. That had always annoyed me. I'd confided in Vince about how I felt about Alice, and soon after, the two of the two of them were together. It felt as frustrating as it sounds. But, oh well, that's what I get for hesitating for as long as I did. Difting down the hallway, my eyes caught the words reception

displayed over double doors that led to the gymnasium. It made sense as the main location for the event. That's where homecoming, prom, and plenty of major sports events were held after all. I could hear chatter, laughter, and the loud thump of dance music just beyond the gym doors. I approached it excitedly. But when I stepped inside, all the noise instantly cut out, leaving me in an eerie silence. Even more perplexingly, the room before me, like the entrance corridor, was entirely devoid of people. A party had just been here, no doubt. I spotted a makeshift bar stocked with the standard assortment of liquor, tables,

holding half-finished drinks and refreshments and an area cleared for a dance floor in the room's center. But there were no people around. Had I missed everyone again? Where had they gone? Hello? I called out to no avail as I drifted around the room in a state of bewilderment.

As I did so, I came across the entrance to the boys' locker room. Just a whiff of the musty, sweaty smell emanated from its unlocked, long-buried memories the time I'd spent in there. I remembered one occasion in particular, where Paul had gotten pissed at me. Paul was usually a pretty low-key guy, but when he lost it, he went wild.

On that particular occasion, he'd been angry with me, hadn't he? But why? I recalled his hot breath as he got in my face and screamed at me, When I gently nudged him away, he responded by slamming a locker door into my head. My memories from that moment forward are hazy. There was a growing pool of blood, the pain of his fist against my cheek,

and the cheering of the classmates who'd encircled us. They were egging us on to continue the fight as if my beating could be called that. I hadn't thought about this event in years. How could I have forgotten something like that? My mind churned in confusion. Feeling dizzy, I took a seat on a bench that appeared to be part of a crude photo booth set up as my mind continued to replay this repressed memory. As Poll had continued to pummel me, I spotted Vince among the gathered crowd.

I begged for him to intervene. Neither he nor our strangely absent instructor had done anything to help me. It was only when Arthur got between us that Paul had reluctantly cooled off. It had taken weeks for those bruises to heal. Had Paul ever been punished for it? Or even apologized? Surely he must have. We'd remained friends after all.

A strange pressure on my shoulder, and a sudden bright light jolted me back to the present. The flash on a camera facing the bench I was sitting had gone off somehow. Even with nobody around to operate it. How was that possible? Maybe it was automated to go off every so often? It didn't make sense. Just like so much else that was happening. Where was everybody?

And whose voices had I been hearing? I'd seen people from the road, and I'd even watched Arthur come inside, but as far as I could tell, the event was deserted. I texted Arthur asking if you'd found anyone. For all I knew, he could have changed his number and the many years it had gone by since I'd last used it,

but I figured it was worth a shot. To my relief, he responded right away. Hey man, long time no see. Paul just called me. He says everyone's up on the third floor in Mr. Minnelli's old room. I'm on my way there now. Meet you there soon. I couldn't fathor why.

the entire event would relocate from the area clearly designated for it to the third floor. There wasn't much up there, after all, aside from classrooms and a few administrative offices. Nonetheless, I resolved to head up there. Arthur was there, after all, and hopefully the rest of my friends would be as well. Navigating off my memory of the building's layout, I hopped up the small set of steps that connected the gym to the second floor. From there it would be a short walk past a few classrooms before I arrived at the central staircase, which would take me to my destination.

I'd never seen the school quite this gloomy before. Each footstep echoed through the halls. The classrooms were weirdly empty too, bereft of any decorations or other signs of use. I recognized one as my calculus classroom. I remembered how, after class had ended one day, I'd come across a group of students congregating in the hallway. Mary, Michelle, and Abby, like so many of my classmates, had grown up with me. And I'd always gotten along with them.

But that day, they were harassing a shy girl, Morgan, I think. Calling her all sorts of names. Slut, whore, bitch. She was trying to get away from them, but they wouldn't let her leave. They're taunting. over became a regular thing, and it often left Morgan in tears. Whatever happened to Morgan? Like most of my friends, I'd known her since I was a little kid.

She was quiet, but she was perfectly nice. Then one day, gossip about her started to spread. The type of nasty embellished rumors that often make their way through high schools, full of sexist undertones and double standards. her former friends shunned her, and she'd been subjected to taunting and ridicule as she walked to class and sat alone at lunch. And one day, she was just gone. And I always assumed that her family had moved away.

But was that true? Growing up, Mary, Michelle, and Abby had always been sweet girls. I'd never seen them treat another person the way they treated Morgan. But Copperhill High School at a little bit of the way they treated Morgan. Upper Hill High School had a way of bringing out the worst in people. There was just something about this building, this place that ate away at their, at our souls. Had I bullied Morgan too? Maybe not, but once her mistreatment started, it's not like I'd made an effort to be kind

to her, or even invite her to sit with me and my friends in the cafeteria. I could have done more. I reached the central staircase, with each step that I took up towards the third floor, a feeling of dread ran through me. I'd seen something terrible happen up here, hadn't I? It was Paul and Vince. Arthur had done something to offend them. It could have been the rumors spreading about his reasons for never having a girlfriend,

his demeanorive size, or the way he'd reacted when Paul had beaten me half to death. Whatever the reason Paul and Vince, without my knowledge, I decided to subject Arthur to a cruel prank. After school one day, they'd taken Arthur up to the third floor, where they'd taken hold of him and tried to wedge him into his own locker. Now, there's a reason this sort of thing occurs primarily in 90s sitcoms. Most people simply can't fit inside of a locker. Arthur, as short and skinny as he was,

turned out to be no exception. But this only made things worse for him. As Arthur later related to me, Paul and Vince laughed rowedly as they slammed him repeatedly into the metal frame. By the time they finally relented, Arthur bruises all over his body. There were other horrible acts too.

Other victims, other beatings. It dawned on me that this place had been an absolute hellhole. It's no wonder I, and Arthur too, had gotten as far away from it as we could at the first opportunity. The peculiar thing was that in the years that it passed, I'd somehow forgotten all of this until just now. Instead, my recollections of high school were all happy, all positive.

Had false memories of camaraderie and friendship drawn Arthur back as well? Finally, I reached the third level. The overhead fluorescent light fixtures flickered sporadically, revealing, in brief spurts, dilapidated lockers, litter, layers of dust and dirt that coated the floor. I approached Mr. Manelli's classroom. Through the shaded hallway window, I could discern the outlines or roughly a dozen figures inside. I heard a voice, too. It was muffled and indistinct.

But I could tell that the speaker was given some kind of speech. She stopped and a loud round of applause followed. I reached for the door handle, unsure what to expect. Hopefully it would just be the people I'd driven four hours to see. But after the events thus far, I have expected the room to be empty. If so, I was jumping ship and going home. To my surprise, just before I made contact with it, the door slowly opened on its own. The brightly lit room before me was filled not with people, at least in the general understanding of the word.

Rather, the still, bony forms before me resemble the kind of props of biology teacher might use to teach human anatomy. The skeletons that stood silently throughout the room, that stood posed with drinks, that sat at desks, that had assembled around a speaker. Had to be props, right? Even though Mr. Minnelli was a history teacher? My mind searched desperately for some kind of explanation. This had to be an elaborate prank, right? Had Vincent Paul lured me and maybe Arthur too out here just to freak us the fuck out?

I wouldn't put it past them. It's precisely the kind of thing they'd do. Even if the whole setup, complete with an array of prop skeletons, was a bit extreme. But then, who was making all the noises I've been hearing? Was that part of the prank too? Fuck it, I thought. If this was a big gig at my expense, then I'd just have to deal with the embarrassment later. I was getting out of there.

Call the strange voice in the hallway. If this is a joke, then it's not. The voice interrupted me. Zach, help me, please. It was Arthur's voice and was coming from the hallway nearby. He sounded like he was in serious trouble, so I hurried after him. Eventually I found myself in a corner of the hallway, one where, if I remember correctly, he and I used to have lockers.

But once again, I phoned myself alone. I yelled out his name several times. Arthur Arthur It was no use I appeared to be at a dead end That's when the locker next to me shook I jumped back surprised

It was shut but not locked I gripped the handle I pulled it over Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw inside It was Arthur's torso The rest of his body was gone and something was dragging what was left of him further away. Further back into a dark abyss where the wall should have been.

Blood gurgled out of his mouth as he gasped my name one last time. He tried to reach out of blood-covered hand, hoping to somehow pull him out. I tried to take it, only for whatever unseen force to take hold of him to pull him away, leaving behind a wide hole in the back of the locker. more blood gushed through it, leaking onto the floor. So glad you could make it, said a monotone voice behind me. I whirled around to see two fleshy arms emerge from another locker across from me. The skinless figure left wet, red stains on the white surface as she got to her feet and stepped towards me.

Don't you recognize your old crush? Surely ten years haven't been that rough on me. Alice? I stuttered, stepping backwards. Lockers all around me started opening. Each accompanied by a new pair of bloody, seemingly boneless arms of figures that slowly crawled outwards. My survival instincts kicked in. I sprinted away, my legs frantically carrying me towards the main staircase.

All around me, figures emerged, reaching out to me as I passed by. Through an open door, I noticed that another classroom was filled with skeletons, just as Mr. Minnellys had been. When I reached the main staircase, it was guarded by a tall, fleshy figure. Don't you want to be with us? It asked in a familiar, deep voice that I knew to be Paul's. We can be complete, a full class. all of us together again. Like old times.

He lurched for me. Just barely I managed to dodge him, but I lost balance in the process. Before I knew it, I was tumbling down the stairs. Pain shot through me as I collided with step after step. Finally, I landed on a level surface. Dizzily, I climbed to my feet and did my best to ignore the soreness that spread throughout my body. A quick glance upwards confirmed that the blooded, figures, the ones that somehow resembled my old classmates, were indeed heading towards

me. Meanwhile, the temperature inside was rising noticeably, and the walls around me were steadily changing in color from a dull gray to a deep red. As I scrambled down the rest of the stairs and across the main corridor on the first floor, an intense tremor ran through the building, sending me sprawling to the ground. Despite a sharp pain that spread through my ankle, I hobbled as quickly as I could to the exit. I didn't look back as I made my way across the parking lot to my car. I started the ignition, backed out, and headed towards a long road I'd used to get there. In my rearview mirror, I chanced to glance back at the school. It was shaking violently, like it was being struck by an earthquake. My car lurched in different directions as ground underneath me also started to

crumble. In an effort to avoid my car being sent off the road and into the neighboring fields, I frantically steered it to the center between the lanes heading into and out of town. When I looked back again, the school was somehow even closer to me than it had been before. How is that possible? Was it following me? I floored the accelerator. Row after row of cornfield flew behind me as a row. I drove at the fastest speed of my life. I was on the edge of town, close to the nearest interstate ramp, when local police pulled me over. As the officer approached me, I stared into the rearview mirror.

At the first glimpse of whatever it was that it chased after me, I'd hit the road again. Law enforcement be damned. In truth, I hadn't seen my pursuer since I'd exited the cornfield a few minutes ago, but I hardly felt safe. Clocked you going nearly a hundred, son, said the officer. I stayed silent. I baffled self as unsure how to best handle the situation. The officer gave me a quizzical look as he examined my ID in registration.

You're Don and France, son, aren't you? The one who left town? I nodded. Why'd you come back? There was a ten-year reason. reunion. From my graduating class, he shook his head. I doubt that. He looked down, then in my perplexed face. Where exactly was this reunion? At the school, I said, I struggled to understand his reaction. What about my story didn't make

sense. And regardless, was I about to be booked for driving 50 miles over the speed limit? Is that something they threw you in jail for? Wait here, barked the officer. He went to his car where he proceeded to have a long conversation over his radio. After a few minutes, he returned to me. Get out of your son. Leave and don't come back. Don't do something like this again. You hear me? Yeah. Yeah, that's fine, I said astonished.

Then scram, he ordered. I obliged and began the long journey home. I had no idea what to make what occurred. I can hardly find anything at all online about Copper Hill High or any of my classmates who went there. And I'm not exactly eager to reach out. out to any of them. I can't make much sense of what happened, but I'm sure one thing, that I barely made it out

of that situation, and that I shouldn't press my luck much further. My ankle needs some more time to heal. Once it does, I'm going to try joining a social club and making a few friends. After what happened to me in Copper Hill, I decided that the past is not a place where I need to dwell any longer. Two weeks have passed since a reunion. Today an envelope with no return address arrived with my mail. It contained a single photograph on glossy paper with a short note written underneath.

The photo featured me on the bench in the photo booth. Sitting to my side with his arm over my shoulders was Vince. He wore a blue-collared shirt and looked normal. no missing skin, no bloody imprints on the surface around him. Paul crouched behind us, a dopey grin on his face. He too looked just as I'd imagine he would look in his late twenties. Paul's right, Abby and Morgan and Michelle pose together with their arms around each other. It was a perfectly ordinary image.

The kind of photo you'd expect to be taken at an event like that. the handwritten caption underneath, Red. Although your visit was briefer than we preferred, we all had a splendid time catching up with you, Zach. Please feel free to come by any time. Nobody truly leaves Copper Hill, after all. Signed, Vince. Co-chair, C-H-H-H-S reunion planning committee.

P.S. The note continued. We are delighted that Arthur has finally joined us. Maybe you will too. At our 20th, the writing up to this point was cursive font and traditional black ink. The last few words, however, were larger in size. Messily scrawled and colored a deep shade of red. See you then, buddy. If not sooner.

For your bonus episode, Creepy Presents. Medical Records Fiasco. written by known of consequence and narrated by Nate Dufort. I've been out of the military for more than a decade, but the fighting continues. I'm not talking about troops on the ground in some war-torn country. My days of wandering the desert with a machine gun are long over. The fight I'm dealing with is for my disability benefits.

The VA doesn't make it easy for veterans like me to. get what we deserve. Seems that unless you're medically discharged from the service, they outright deny any and all claims for disability. Even if there's documented proof and the letter of the law says you're approved, they deny you. After that, you have to appeal the decision and go through a lengthy drawn-out process. From what I've been told, they do this to try and save money because some people either won't try to fight it or don't know that they can. Unfortunately, I was one of the ones that didn't know. When I first got out, I went immediately to the VA.

After several tests and scans, I was diagnosed with a rather serious sleeping disorder that I sure as hell didn't have before serving. When they denied me disability for it, I thought that was the end of it, and bitterly let it go. I didn't step foot back into one of their facilities until a year later. It was spring and I was using the GI Bill to go back to school. The pollen was so bad that year that every car in the parking lot was covered in a fine green powder. I was on my way to class when it hit me like a freight train and I couldn't breathe.

My lungs were on fire and I was wheezing like someone who smoked three packs a day for 30 years. They had to cart me off in a damn ambulance and give me to the ER. That was the day I found out I had asthma. I was still in the ER when I made an appointment with my VA doctor. Three weeks after I was released, I had my appointment. But of course, by this time the issue had passed, and I could breathe easy again. After explaining everything that happened, the doctor looked at me and agreed with the ER doctor that I had asthma.

She issued me a few prescriptions and sent me on my way, no testing or anything. I could tell she didn't give a fuck. And after my other experiences with their organization, I told the VA to go to hell. I left it alone for years because clearly they didn't give a shit. And I didn't want to deal with it anymore. It was years later I found out that my case was clear-cut and I deserved disability. They denied me two more times before I. I got a lawyer involved.

A little over three years ago, a lawyer won my case without having to go before a judge, and I was given an automatic 50% rating for my sleep disorder. Another two years later, and I find out that my asthma qualifies as disability too. Instead of involving that lawyer in my claim, I decided to try for it the way you're supposed to. That had been a mistake.

At first, the VA claimed my asthma wasn't service-related. and I filed an appeal of that decision. I never had asthma prior to my military service, and the burn pits I was exposed to in Afghanistan automatically qualify me. I thought it was going to be another clear-cut case that I'd have to appeal a couple times before they gave in. After three rejections, I found out what was going on.

It's not that they're claiming my asthma isn't service-related. They're denying I have asthma altogether. It turns out that when I went to the VA doctor after my first severe asthma attack, that stupid bitch never put it in my records. All she did was issue me medication, which shows in the records, but no diagnosis. What kind of bullshit is that? I'm glad I went to private practice and used my work insurance, then rely on those worthless fuckers.

Now, granted, that was a decade ago, and that bitch wasn't working the VA anymore, but it doesn't help me now. The lawyers involved again, but because of all the appeals I went through, the only way to do this and secure me at least a year of back pay is to go before a judge. It'll take 18 months for that to happen, so the back pay will be for more than two years. Even if I only get a 10% bump in disability, a back pay will be more than $10,000. That kind of money will do me wonders getting out of debt. My paycheck and current disability isn't hacking into the shitty economy. So needless to say, I'm jumping through all the hoops I have to.

In order to get treatment for my sleeping disorder, I have to go to a pulmonary clinic. Not only did they confirm the VA's diagnosis of the disorder, but they diagnosed me with asthma as well. They've been treating me for both over the last eight years. You think my medical records from the pulmonary clinic would be enough to convince a judge, but my lawyer wants to do something extra. Since he specializes in VA disability cases, I'm not going to question him on this. He wants an expert,

someone who basically wrote the book on asthma, to consult and give his opinion on my diagnosis. No judge is going to deny my claim with the foremost experts backing me. In order to get the asthma expert's clinical opinion, I need to get a copy of my medical records from the pulmonary clinic and send them to them.

This sounds pretty straightforward and relatively easy, but it's far from easy. In order to get a copy of my records, I have to go to their downtown office, fill out paperwork, and eventually get my copy. I found all this out on the phone because I went to their office near my work,

and it turns out that office closed a while ago. They used to have three different offices around the city, but recently they downsized to work. I know where it is since I did my sleep studies there, but I fucking hate downtown. My work schedule is incredibly hectic, and I can't afford to lose any of my hours, so I asked the lady on the phone if there was any way they could email the forms to me to fill out. If I can save myself the headache of going down there twice, I'd like to. The lady says it shouldn't be a problem, and they'll call me when the records are ready.

That was three weeks ago, and I still haven't gotten the email with the the forms I need to fill out. Now I'm forced to go down there and the weather's turning nasty. It's just what I need. I drive into downtown during a storm. People are fucking morons in traffic. And adding rain only makes it worse. The clinic is located behind a sketchy tattoo parlor which speaks volumes about the area I'm in.

It's been years since I've visited this location, not since my sleep study. I hadn't slept well all those nights, even by my poor standard. of the time. Part of it was being in a high crime area, but it had mainly been the clinic itself. I kept waking up and swore the shadows were moving. It got so bad that the results of my study were unusable and I was forced to do it again. Three total sleep studies were done before the results were conclusive and treatment was calculated. At least my sleep is better now and I won't be staying long. I run from my truck to the door. The rain pours down as the thunder rumbles above. There hadn't been much in the way of lightning, or at least I hadn't been paying that much attention

to it. My focus was on the other drivers, making sure their stupidity didn't get in my way. The distance isn't far, but by the time I got to their awning, I'm pretty damn wet. I seriously need to get better at checking the weather before leaving for work. My dumbass left my umbrella at the house. A sign on the door asks anyone entering to please be quiet. Sleep studies are in progress. It's a little early for bedtime, but this clinic has a surprisingly large patient base, and they have to conduct their studies all throughout the day. It's the only reason I'm able to come down here after regular office hours. The lobby's empty and more than half the lights are off. Chairs line three of the walls, and a window on the fourth leads to the inner office.

A yellow glow comes through the window as shadows move around. This place is eerie during the day, and now it's downright creepy. There's something tall and looming in the far corner of the room, some kind of plant, I assume. I don't recall there being any plants in here before, especially not something tall enough to reach the ceiling, but it's been a while. If I stare at it long enough, I'm sure I can see it better, but I just want to get this over with and get the hell out of here. I'm starving in dinners about an hour's drive with the weather being as unpleasant as it is. Walking up to the window, I startled the woman at the desk. She wasn't expecting anyone to show up, and the stifled scream proves it.

After apologizing for startling her, I tell her I'm here to pick up my records. giving me an odd look she asks for my name and other information, including my ID. She disappears into the back and I'm left in the dimly lit lobby. I swear there's more shadows than there were before. Taking a seat, I can't help but feel tired. The whole thing's stressing me out, but getting this increase in my disability is going to help me out a lot. I catch movement out of the corner of my eye, but When I turn, there's only darkness.

That shadowy shape in the corner is looming over me, and I try to ignore it, but something's not right. Wasn't that thing in the other corner when I walked in? Squinting my eyes trying to get a better look, the damn thing moves right at me. Something reaches out and covers my vision. I don't feel anything touching me, but something is covering my eyes. I scramble away from it and fall out of the chair. The floor is hard and cold against my back, and I crawl away, but I still can't see. Getting to my feet, I feel my way out of the lobby.

My hand finds a door handle, and I turn the knob. The door opens, but going through it doesn't improve my vision. I don't hear the sounds of rain falling or the rumbling thunder, so it wasn't the front door I went through. With my hands out in front of me, I find the wall and keep. moving. Maybe if I put some distance between me in the lobby, my vision will return. This is freaking me out so bad that I'm panicking. I've been in bad situations before, but nothing like this. Adrenaline starts pumping through my veins and I feel an urgency to move faster, like something's

chasing me. My leg collides with something solid and I tumble over whatever it is to the ground. I roll over to my hands and knees and keep moving until my head slams into a wall. For a moment, I can see again, kind of like when people claim to see stars when they hit their head. I shake my head to try and clear it, but I stop from a sharp pain in my neck. Stopping everything, I take a deep breath to try and calm myself. If I keep going like this, I'm going to seriously injure myself, and whatever was in the lobby will get me for sure. Once my heart rate slows to a less erratic speed, I slowly get to my feet. I'm a little dizzy, even though I still can't see, and my hand comes into contact with the wall again.

I lean my shoulder against it as I rub my eyes. There's nothing covering them, no foreign substance obstructing my vision. None of this is making sense. In an ill-advised attempt to get help, I take a breath before calling out for someone. but something stops me. It's not fear of that thing in the lobby finding me, but the sound of voices. They're coming from further down

what I can only assume as a hallway. This isn't the idle chatter of two employees discussing patients or the typical medical clinic shit these people talk about. I hear the murmur of one person speaking, followed by a few others saying something in response. The last time I heard something like this was when I went to the chapel during my deployment.

I don't remember why I'd gone there, but I walked in during some kind of non-denominational mass. The chaplain was leading the small group in a prayer of some sort. He said something, and the handful of soldiers responded as one with a few words. The chaplain spoke again, and they responded in kind. This went on for a few minutes, and I left without doing whatever it was I'd gone to do. That's the kind of thing I'm here.

hearing right now, but whatever is being said isn't a language I recognize. Keeping my hand in contact with the wall, I slowly and quietly walk toward the voices. As I do, my vision starts coming back. I can only make out the outlines of things, but glancing back the way I came only reveals darkness. It's not that the lights aren't on. There's just nothing there to see. No walls, floor, or ceiling. There's only an expanse of darkness and I turn my back to it. My mind can't fathom it, so I move on, focusing on something more tangible. I pass by a few closed doors in the hallway.

Each one has a little window showing dark rooms, each with a bed inside. There's a person in each room laying on the beds, and I assume they're asleep. I recall how difficult it had been sleeping in these rooms. electrodes attached to my head with some kind of odd adhesive. For those who toss and turn in their sleep, they can be difficult to deal with. You either end up choking yourself with the wires or they come off. When that happens, the tech needs to go in, wake you up, and reattach the damn things. Otherwise, they look at the necessary readings for the study.

Passing by the third room, I glance inside to see the same thing as in the last two rooms. I'm closer to the voices and can hear them more clearly, but still unable to understand what they're saying. As I'm about to move on from this door, I see a looming shadow in the corner of the room. I could swear it hadn't been there a moment ago, and it looks exactly like the thing that took my vision in the lobby. The voices grow in intensity and the shadow moves. It goes to the bed and reaches out to the sleeping person. covering the face. After a moment, the entire shadow is laying on top of the person,

completely covering the bed. I can't see the person or the white sheets anymore. The bed is just like the hallway behind me, consumed by darkness and simply not there anymore. Panic is threatening to cloud my mind again, but I fight it off with calming breaths. Continuing down the hall, I leave the patient rooms behind and come to a pair of double doors. There's no windows on these doors, nor are their handles.

It just has those flat plates that swinging doors have. The voices are chanting now and are rather clear. Pushing one of the doors slightly, I see yellow light coming from the room beyond. This light isn't coming from the ceiling, but from something. about stomach level. It moves and flickers as well like candlelight when the AC kicks on. Opening the door just enough to stick my head through, I can see more than the light source. Five figures in dark cloaks surround a small table covered in a maroon cloth. There are five candles on it in a circular pattern. In the center is a few odd objects, some of which

look like bones. The people raise their hands as the chant becomes more intense, and I see several shadows behind the cloaks. There's something wrong with those shadows, not like the one in the lobby or the patient room. These are their shadows, but they've got more substance to them, and there's too many. It's almost like each figure has two shadows. There's a wind in the room in the room that's too strong to be from the AC, and the candle flames go wild. Those shadows start moving in on the cloaks, towering over them, until they spill over like a waterfall. The shadows consume everything, pitching the entire room in darkness and silence. I turn around and see the hallway stretching out before me, every fourth light is on,

allowing me to see everything there is. Halfway down, there's a chair. on its side, and now I know what I fell over earlier. Cautiously, I walked down there and set the chair right. I'm scanning the place looking for signs of people or anything out of the ordinary. Excuse me. A woman in a black skirt suit comes out of the lobby and scares the shit out of me. What are you doing back here? I apologize and tell her I was looking for the bathroom.

She shows me where it is, and while there, I splash water on my face. I have no idea what just happened, and I'm trying like hell to ignore the fact that I now have two shadows. For more information on this podcast, including how to submit your own story for consideration, please visit creepypod.com. You can also follow us at creepypod on social media and YouTube.

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