Creepy - Day 1 - My Scarecrow Got Me In Big Trouble & 46 and 2

Episode Date: October 1, 2022

My Scarecrow Got Me In Big Trouble***Written by: RM Staniforth***Content warning: child death***46 and 2***Written by: Steve Rogers and Narrated by: Nate Dufort***Content warning: research on animals and humans, talk of cancer, gruesome murder, light body horror ***Check out our reward tiers at patreon.com/creepypod***Sound Design by Pacific Obadiah***Title music by Alex Aldea***Intro/Outro Narration by Joe Stofko Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Man, time flies, huh? October again. Time to kick off the 31 days of horror. 31 consecutive days of stories. Two stories a day. So there are no ad interruptions. Before we get going, I do want to remind listeners that this show does list content warnings in the show notes. As such, if there's some subject matter that you find difficult to listen to, we do list some of the more difficult themes in those content warnings for each story.

We don't announce them on the show itself as a concern. service spoilers for the story. So please, see the show notes before listening if there are certain topics you find difficult to hear. We do our best to cover major content warnings such as assault, child death, suicide, animal cruelty, and the like. And please remember, this is a horror fiction podcast, and sometimes horror is horrifying. We were very hard to present a lot of content this time of year for a wide variety of topics and offering a wide range of scares. I speak for all the narrators here in that I hope this show serves to accentuate this very favorite time of year. I don't think there's really much else to say it beyond.

No. This is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepy pastures and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened or. Our simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. Creepy Presents

The 31 Days of Horror. Day One My Scarecrow got me in big trouble. Written by R.M. Staniforth. I just completed the finishing touches on the lighting of my elaborate Halloween display. I sat back, pulling my beanie off to allow the autumn chill to flow through my sweaty hair and proudly admire my custom house of horrors. I always wanted to be the guy on the block with the most badass Halloween display around.

And finally, it was my year. It's a shame that I'd be unable to stay home for Halloween night, greeting visitors to my haunted yard. Unfortunately, my wife had obligated. us through to a Halloween party at her sister's house so our kids could go trick-or-treating with all their cousins, rendering me unable to watch the neighborhood passers-by admire my display that I spent way too much time and money on. At the center of the yard stood my main attraction.

A fake but convincing large Gothic statue, showing a black-winged angel standing atop the screaming and terrified souls that damned as they tried desperately to escape their unbearable pain. I named her Lilith. surrounding her were menacing gargoyles, leering ghosts, ungodly monsters, and brownish-grey skeletons that hid the red and purple floodlights that would illuminate the statue. A pathway lined with purple and green LEDs worked its way through the yard, guiding visitors past gravestones and a dozen hand-carved jack-lanterns.

The pathway ended with a terrifying scarecrow that I had spent a number of hours creating. Despite that incredible display, my scarecrow, cane, was a little bit of a little bit of a scarecrow that was a feature in which I felt the most pride. Regardless of the dry straw poking out from his red plaid shirt and faded black jeans, he was designed to look as though he were a real person waiting to jump out at you. Waiting to drag you to hell. He sat upright in his chair, daring any person to approach and making you feel cowardly for averting his daunting gaze. The finishing touch was a mask that had those illusory eyes that appeared to be watching you,

regardless of where you were in which direction you moved. The scarecrow now held a large burlap sack containing a generous amount of candy. Since I couldn't be there, Cain would distribute my candy for me. There was something about Cain, something that gave even me chills. There were far more decorative artifacts in my yard, but Cain is what drew my attention. Around him, the air felt colder, the night darker, the sounds quieter, and the ambiance menacing. The kids and I waved a nervous goodbye to Kane as we headed off to the Halloween party.

Saddened that I'd been able to see people's reactions firsthand, I installed two Wi-Fi-enabled security cameras. It was a small consolation to missing out on the event entirely, but it felt like something at least. One camera sat just beyond the scarecrow, concealed in the skull of a prop skeleton. After successful night at trick-or-treating with the kids, we arrived back home shortly after 9 p.m.

I parked in front of our house to proudly admire my lit-up display in its nighttime glory on the night when the dead walked the streets. It looked fantastic, like a professional haunted display worthy of an admission charge. As we pulled into the driveway, however, I noticed that something was missing. My scarecrow was no longer seated on his stone bench. God damn it!

I curse loudly, will smith. the steering wheel as if it were responsible. Some punk-ass kid stole my scarecrow. I could feel the fury boiling in my gut, threatening to spill out through my clenched fists and punish inanimate objects. All those hard-spent hours just for some bastard kids to come steal my hard work.

Babe, watch your language in front of the kids. My wife scolded me. I turned around to see all three of my kids asleep, still in their costumes and clutching their bags of candy. I gave my wife an annoyed look that said, everything without quite saying anything and shrugged her off. I was more concerned with who stole my scarecrow. I opened the app for the camera, greedily ready to find the thief and hoping I could

identify them. I was already picturing myself walking to their house armed with security footage, threatening legal action against their parents. Finding it best to start at the beginning, I found the footage showing our car leaving. I skip past a dozen the trick-or-treaters stopping by to take candy or sometimes greedy handfuls from the burlap sack that was carefully guarded by Kane. I stopped a few times, watched people admire my decorations. I had earned that satisfaction.

I reached the timestamp of only 15 minutes prior to my arrival home, annoyed at just how close I've been to catching the thieves in the act. But thieves didn't seem to be the problem. My heart stopped, and I dropped the phone when I saw what happened. For minutes I did nothing but freeze. unable to comprehend what I saw in the camera. But how's a man supposed to react to the impossible? The scarecrow had simply stood up and walked away.

I watched over and over as my scarecrow stood up on his own two feet, as if you were bored, and walked awkwardly but comfortably down my path of horrors and out of frame dragging his burlap sack with him. After regaining composure, my rational mind said that somebody had to be playing a trick on me. My thought was that somebody had switched a scarecrow with a real person and an elaborate Halloween prank. I replayed the whole night while my eyes grew dry and red, still holding on to the expectation that I'd see someone making the switch.

But in all my footage, nobody touched Kane. Out of desperation, I posted the video to my social media with a caption, Funny prank, please bring my scarecrow back. The next morning, after only two hours asleep, I filled my coffee mug extra full and log. on hoping to see one of the friends taking credit in the comment section. No such luck. At that point, I knew it had to be Matt. Matt had been pulling crazy pranks on me since high school,

so I gave him a call to get his confession. Hey, man, I don't know how you did, but you really outdid yourself this time, I told him over the phone. But can you bring him back today? I want to have everything packed up this week. What are you talking about? Matt asked.

My scarecrow? somebody switched him out with a real person to freak me out. I wish I could take credit, ma'am, but it wasn't me. I'm in Fruitville with my parents. Seriously? I asked. Fruitville was an eight-hour drive. You swear you're not messing with me? I swear, dude.

Matt replied with confidence. All right. Thanks, Matt. I said before hanging up. If it was really Matt, he definitely would have taken credit. I didn't have much time to think about it, though, as the news had broke and of a missing kid in a nearby neighborhood just a couple blocks away. Apparently, he'd never come home on Halloween night. His parents believed that he went to a friend's house after trick-or-treating and didn't notice his absence until the following morning. But the boy was gone.

Nothing like this had ever happened in my community that I could think of anyways. As involved in genuinely concerned members of our community, my wife and I equally joined the search party. We walked through the neighborhood backyards, bushes, sewer drains, business dumpsters, and beyond, exhaustively searching for the missing boy who was last seen wearing a Black Panther costume. In a collaborative effort with other members of the search party, we searched every nook and cranny and scanned every undeveloped field our suburb had to offer. By nightfall, there was a full-scale amber alert out. Tired and worried, my wife and I returned home to relieve the babysitter.

We took our kids into bed, a little more. affectionately than usual. Everyone in our community felt uneasy at best. Although nobody was willing to say it out loud, we all knew what the statistics say about when a child's been missing for more than 24 hours. By the following morning, we'd be searching for a body.

I couldn't help but think how distraught I'd be if my kids were to go missing like that. Before bed, I checked my phone one last time for any news on the missing boy. The notification slid under the top of my service. screen. It was the app for my security camera, which was still hidden in the skeleton. The notification said, motion detected in front yard. I swiped it to tap into the camera's live feed. The greeny night footage wasn't exactly high quality, but what I saw could not

be mistaken. There was Kane, the scarecrow, walking out my Halloween pathway with his burlap sack dragging behind him. At first I watched in shock. Terror mixed with my exhausted state which soon turned to annoyance and then anger. As Kane sat down, I snapped out of him and grabbed my shoes trying to jam them on my feet as I hurried out of my bedroom, determined to catch the goddamn prankster this time. I ran outside and jumped over the plastic gravestones and skeletons, knocking things over in my hurry to catch whoever I was in that scarecrow costume. It was infuriating that anybody would be pulling a little. a prank like this given the missing child.

The community was scared and distraught. I didn't care if it was a friend. It deserved a good punch in the jaw. I swung my right arm and threw a haymaker at the scarecrow's face, expecting it to contact the face of the prankster. What happened, however, was the head of the scarecrow fell off, landing with a soft thud several feet away. I looked down at the scarecrow's torso expecting to find a person's head in there.

I ripped open the buttons the plaid shirt, but the only thing I found was the dry straw and used rags that I had stuffed the scarecrow with. I was confused, exhausted, and overwhelmed, and felt as though I might be having a nervous breakdown. I backed away from the scarecrow, but as I stepped over the heavy burlap bag and landed staring right into the scarecrow's menacing eyes. His stitched smile and beady black eyes stared into mine. enjoying my fear and agony. I tore myself away from the frightening head, struggled to my feet, and kicked the head as hard as I could,

sending pieces of straw and rake scattering. I'd then turn my attention toward the burlap sack that I tripped over, wondering why the hell it was so heavy. I'd put a lot of candy in there yesterday, but the bag wasn't that heavy. As soon as I opened up the burlap sack to peer inside, I screamed and fell backward at the most grotesque sight

had ever had the displeasure to witness for tucked inside the tattered and worn burlap sack was a young motionless boy twisted and broken at impossible ankles a boy who's wearing a battered and bloodied black panther mask for your bonus episode creepy presents 46 and two written by steve rogers and narrated by Need to Fort. Out in West Texas, there's a fence. I know there are a lot of fences out in West Texas, but if you happen to look at this particular fence a little closer, you'll notice that it's strung with razor wire,

which, practically speaking, isn't exactly the best for keeping cattle penned, as razor wire is designed to really hurt things. trying to get through it. Typically, ranchers want to avoid this for their herds. If you happen to follow this particular fence far enough, you'll come to a rather simple gate, made of a large bar on wheels that swings away over the dusty road

and protected with a simple combination master lock. This kind of gate is the gold standard out here. And really, it's all that's needed. to keep folks off the deer lease or the cattle grays. If you happen to have the combination to that master lock and were able to drive down the road past this lonely gate, the first thing that might occur to you is how weirdly long this road is.

And there's a good reason for that. It's because they want to know who's coming towards them. After a while, if you kept driving down this dusty road, past that lonely, simple gate, you'll come to a much more formidable gate, complete with a very stout-looking roadblock, and a guardhouse containing anywhere between two and five very serious armed guards. These guards are usually in a fairly bad mood, as the guardhouse doesn't have air conditioning, and it tends to get mighty hot out here in West Texas. Once you show them your ID, chair and tech security clearance badge, and assignment papers,

they'll raise that formidable roadblock and gruffly wave you on your way. Now, if you thought the first road was long, you're really in for a wait down the second one. Again, it's because they want to know exactly who's coming. But this time, your vehicle is scanned, ascertained, and assigned a threat level by a satellite orbiting this exact area, some six miles above this dusty landscape. Incidentally, if you reach a high enough threat level without proper clearance, a command is sent to a security weapon system, which can and has, reduce cars and occupants into well-ventilated blocks of metal and flesh,

using laser-guided chain guns. So, good thing you're clear. You may be asking yourself, why is all this even out here? It's a pretty good question, and I'm happy to answer that for you. This is one of Charing Tech's top facilities, and security's been beefed up quite a bit after a particularly violent incident in their research and development department last year. Openly speaking, and confidentially between you and I, they're still recovering.

and there hasn't been any solid resolution to what happened. So, to help clarify a little, Charentec is a pretty interesting company. They have a lot of fingers and a lot of different pies, so to speak, but for the sake of time, I'll keep it limited to this particular site. They do a lot of biological experimentation out here. And, as I'm sure you can imagine, things can sometimes go south.

When they do, the results can be unsettling, to say the least. I'll skip going into detail about the front desk and all of the offices for now. However, these are also much more than they appear to be. And I'll just get to the elevators. There's four of them. One leading up to the four floors that rise above the West Texas dust. and the other three leading down underground. That's where the real action is.

The massive underground facility, where all the research is done on everything from mice and rabbits to dogs and cats, to monkeys and apes, and unfortunately, the actual people. Not to put too fine a point on it,

but Cherintech really doesn't care about ethics. They have enough funding from numerous extraordinarily deep pockets both foreign and domestic to make annoying things like ethics go away. In this case, the cloak of our Lonely West Texas setting definitely helps to keep things quiet. But other things like project titles, some amazing spin doctors, and a multi-million dollar PR department tend to smooth things over on the surface, or if anyone comes asking questions. Take for example one half of the main part of the incident last year, the Cancer and Research Division.

While a few lessen the know folks were in fact doing legitimate cancer research, others were doing some experimental research to see what else we could learn from and about cancer. As you know, of course, the older you get, the less viable some cells tend to be. And sometimes, those less than viable cells may reproduce out of control. Next thing you know, you're having a terrible conversation with your doctor, and your life is dramatically changed. In this case, last year, however, the chair and tech scientists unlocked something interesting. They found a way to not only speed it up, but to give the patient some level of control over it. So they created the metastasis program, and there were several interested parties. Across the globe, groups of doctors, high-ranking officials in the Pentagon, and even certain war-torn countries in the Middle East, all threw money at it.

Tons of it. So, they started their experiments, which grew in scale until they actually began making real progress. Once Cherintech had gone as far as they could with animals, and trust me, friend, that was not pretty. They understood that they needed humans for subjects. After all, if you could use your will to control cancer, you need to be able to have someone tell you what they're doing. Unfortunately, smaller mammals don't have that ability yet. Though, again, between you and I, Charantac, is currently working on that little gem as well, but that's another story.

As I'm sure you can imagine, the first few human experiments were pretty horrific. The people that volunteered did so under the false pretense of a super-soldier serum. I'm sure you can imagine what the subjects were thinking like. would be like after watching a few extremely popular movies lately. However, there were some kind souls who heard they could help and volunteered to assist cancer research. The serum was administered via syringe and adapted to the host's body extremely quickly. In the beginning, the hyper-cancer, as they called it,

did exactly the opposite of what the researchers were hoping it would do. It not only took control of the host, but self-destructed the entire subject into a quivering pile of bloody goo very shortly after injection. On paper, it did exactly what it was supposed to do, replicate quickly, go along with what the host was thinking. But for some reason, it locked onto a dark place in the host and exploited it, and it decided the host wanted to die, instead of be a super soldier. So, quivering bloody goo. It took them 45 failures before they got to what they considered to be a success.

Patient 46's real name was Randy Gillum, and he got much more than he bargained for when he volunteered for cancer research. His daughter had died a few years back from leukemia, and he wanted to do all he could to help further the science of healing. He was, yes, was, a good man, though I don't blame him for the things that follow.

By the time Randy came around, the folks at Charen Tech have been working furiously to make some kind of progress, any kind of progress, as their benefactors were growing impatient, and wanted something to show for the ridiculous amounts of money they had thrown at the project.

Finally, they felt they were ready, and once the hyper cancer was introduced to Randy's body, it initially looked like a success. He didn't immediately turn into a quivering pile of bloody goo. However, things still didn't go according to their plan. Moments after the injection was complete, Randy reported feeling a surge of strength and an advanced awareness of everyone around him.

He said that he could hear them, that he could hear their souls, and almost immediately knew that these scientists weren't here to help find a cure for his daughter's death, and were instead actually exploiting it. Understandably, he got upset. That's when the hypercancer really showed its potential. Randy lashed out, not with his hands, but with protrusions that grew at blinding speed, from his body in all different directions. The growths took on a hard, almost carapace like shell, and pierced through four different people around the room at once,

instantly impaling their hearts. At the same time, four other things that looked like sharp-toothed mouths at the end of waving tendrils were gnawing away at the leather bindings, binding his feet and legs, and in moments he was free. His wrath knew no bounds As he could see the darkness in these people's hearts And the death he dealt Outmatched their greed, cruelty, and misguided experiments

As his rage grew, so did his power New tendrils like fleshy, bony saws shredded bodies And threw them against walls and ceilings Others pierced two-way glass And wriggled into brains on the other side and one poor soul was finally thrown through the bolted and locked laboratory door confining Randy. Through this open portal, he sensed others that needed to be dealt with, and his fury entered the hallway.

One fairly new research scientist, Dr. James Cambly, one of the few who actually thought he was there to help on legitimate cancer research, fell victim to Randy's rage and was impaled, torn almost in half and thrown down a hallway about 40 feet where he hit a power junction. His torso caused massive damage to the transformer there, plunging the entire subterranean level into darkness. This suited Randy just fine, as his new eyes now saw the world in colors and shades of shadow that no human had ever witnessed before. While Randy raged on, another smaller, but no less deadly and vengeful presence, took notice of this sudden darkness from across the complex, and knew the time had finally

come to act. Elena Moss had been under the ground with Charin Tech all of her life, and she was now seven years old. She'd been through a lot in her seven years. More than any person who lived to be a hundred should ever endure between you and I, but here she was, locked in her bright plexiglass cage and unable to do things that a normal seven-year-old girl should be able to do. At first glance, it looked pretty cool.

She had a big room, comfortable furniture and amenities, lots of toys, even two gaming consoles she could play on. But while you were squinting into her room, you'd have to stop and ask yourself, Why is there light in every part of her living space? Even the frame of her bed was lit from the inside. Every corner of her home was dedicated to the banishment of darkness. The answer is, of course, Elinna was not at all what she appeared to be. Not that she looked totally normal to begin with.

The poor girl was pale almost to the point of translucence, and her eyes were deeply sunken into her skull. the skin around them bruised and almost black from a lack of sleep. The eyes themselves had taken on a horrific yellow gold that radiated from her face, even through the bright lights of her cage. Elena had been the second subject of a new human light technology experiment that, while successful, had also driven her quite mad. It wasn't really hard, to be honest.

She perfectly remembered being taken away from her mother, and watched them experiment on her until she died in the glass cage directly across from Elena. Naturally, this drove her fragile young mind to the breaking point and then was pushed far over the edge when they turned the experiments on her. And the experiments had worked, but again, not how the research and development department had planned. Elena developed the ability to use shadows to actually travel. If she could touch a shadow, she could step into it and then step out of another shadow in another location of her choosing.

Once she discovered this ability, her madness and thirst for vengeance, even at the tender age of five, drove her to act without remorse and immediately murdered the lead scientist on the project. Before she could step through the shadows again, A quick-thinking intern, Reed, the luckiest and fastest intern in the West, managed to quickly sedate her,

and the team placed her in a medically-induced coma until her new cage could be constructed, one that had no shadows, and never would. The constant invasive light, the inability to sleep as a result, the rage and her need for vengeance, had been simmering just below a boil since she was placed in there more than a year ago,

until suddenly everything went dark. I won't go into the gory details of the things she did to those folks down there, but in most cases she didn't even need tools or weapons to do what she did. It looked like she just appeared from a shadow, pulled part of someone in, and then blink. that part was just gone. Ceilings, floors, entire hallways were slick with blood. Corners were the worst.

There were body parts that just ended. Torsos that were cut so cleanly, nothing on earth could make an incision like that, at angles that didn't make any sense. And she left behind lots and lots of stumps. Elena was blinking all over the place, gleefully exacting her revenge when she came across bodies that did not belong to her vengeance. Naturally, this intrigued her.

She was still seven years old, after all, and she paused long enough to hear the source of this new violence. She stepped through her shadow and was able to see Patient 46 doing his thing, and he immediately stopped. He sensed her in the shadow. He turned towards her and fell to his knees. Suddenly helpless, all thoughts of destruction and vengeance immediately drained from him

when he saw this angelic little girl with glowing yellow eyes that almost upon sight deeply reminded him of his own daughter. He reached out a hand towards her, tears in his eyes. The little girl cautiously grew up. came forward and placed her small hand in his palm. Security cameras caught the very short exchange between the two before they vanished. What's wrong, Mr. Elinus said in an adorable West Texas drawl.

Why are you doing this to all these folks? Tendrils were searching the space around them both now, waving behind him, slinking around Elena's feet. Some were being reabsorbed by his body. body as he spoke, others appearing out of his back and sides, and toothy grins appeared in his neck and arms. It took him a moment to compose himself, but wiping his eyes, he managed a small smile. These people did horrible things to me, darling. To you too, I'm guessing. He looked down at the blood all over the floor, all over himself, and I,

rolled in the back of his hand. I was just making sure they didn't hurt anyone else. She seemed to consider this for a moment and nodded her tiny blonde head. She put her other hand under his chin and lifted his face. They were eye to eye now. Why are you crying? She asked, wiping a new tear from his cheek. Because you remind me as someone I loved very much.

he said. I came here hoping I could help fix what happened to her. They lied to my mommy. Did they lie to you too? She asked, her face darkening. He simply nodded. There are more of them out there. Can you feel them?

We can go and find them if you want, she said. Would you like that? He nodded again. Let me show you my trick. She pulled on his hand. and they both headed for a darkened corner. The only way that you can describe what happened next is that they were simply swallowed,

like there was a doorway that you couldn't see, one that only they were able to find and they just walked through. And then they were both gone. To date, Charantek hasn't located them, though fortunately, there also haven't been, any other attacks at other locations. Maybe they're waiting and biding their time before striking at again, trying to find the most critical location or branch

that would effectively cripple the entire organization. For maybe, hopefully, they just want to live like normal people and be left the hell alone. As the former CEO of Cherintech, I felt it was important to get this out there, openly, friend. I'm not sure how much longer I have to live. This organization isn't big on golden parachutes or retirement packages. And honestly, there's a lot that they've done and that I've allowed that I'm not proud of.

I'm going to share as much as I can for as long as I can. And this is just the first of many stories I have for you. I know you'll judge me. And I deserve it. But please know that in my telling you these things, I'm not looking for redemption. I'm looking to expose the company for what it is. We made monsters.

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