Creepy - Day 1 - The Last Med School Halloween Party

Episode Date: October 1, 2021

Here we go...***Written by: Sum Gigh***Bonus: "The Worst Experience To Awaken To" written by NerdxCorexCreep and narrated by: Nate DuFort***Check out our reward tiers at patreon.com/creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.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.

Welcome to the bloody disgusting network. We did it. The fifth annual 31 Days of Horror is finally here. The most magical and stressful time of the year, but mostly magical. Believe me, I never could have imagined doing this twice, let alone five times. So thank you all for continuing to listen to our stories. And as a special thank you, much like last year, we're doing not. not one, but two stories every day in October.

Yes, 31 days of horror means 62 horror stories. We do this so that the commercials we run to keep the lights on and everyone pay don't interrupt the stories themselves, but exist between the stories. Yes, I think about this and how the listeners feel about our show a lot. Unlike last year, where we used the sort of greatest hits from our Patreon stories, we're instead narrating 62 all-news stories this year, never heard before on this show. And yes, that's on top of the bonus content that patrons here. Some tears are getting over 80 stories this month alone. I think by rough estimates, this free feed has something like 15 hours of content just in October. Because, from the depths of our black little hearts, we love you. And we love October.

So here's the five years. With a little luck, we'll get five more. Thank you all for your support. Without further ado, the 2021-31 Days of Horror starts now. This is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling

and disturbing creepypastas and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened or not 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 1

The Last Met School Halloween Party written by some guy. You know what you call a guy who graduates the bottom of his class in med school? I know the TV makes it seem as if being the top of your class matters, but it doesn't. Maybe for surgeons or people overly concerned about the residency,

but for every one doctor who's trying to get into med school at Johns Hopkins or residency at the Mayo Clinic, you'll find ten who just want to be doctors. Don't scoff or shake your head. I know TV wants to make it seem like all doctors are just driven to cure all diseases and save the world. But how many doctors do you know who smoke or drink or abuse drugs? How many work in podunk towns? How many show little to no interest in your physical or diagnosis?

You know, I give out a form with five questions for people to fill out to diagnose depression before I write a prescription. That's it. My first realization that I could be a doctor happened when I was getting my physical before my junior year of high school football. The doctor came in and apologized for forgetting the laptop. He asked what was up, then said I looked pretty healthy, so I was probably fine. I'm not even joking. That's when I realized I could be a doctor. Yeah, there's a lot of school, and it's expensive, and there's a lot of studying.

But not every med program is Johns Hopkins. either. If you put a little effort into it, you can find out which med programs are party schools. Seriously, Google party med schools and you'll find stuff. Schools like Lake Erie College of osteopathic medicine and Miller School of Medicine University of Miami. Granted, these are still solid programs, but understand it's something people think about. My med school, which I can't name for all the reasons I'm about to share, was not the level of those other schools. I'd call the classes taught more of a meat grinder. But on the way to suggest that the classes were hard, as much as they were just shoving in facts,

turning the crank, and seeing if you could make sausage out of it. The graduation rate from the program is one of the highest in the country if you actually attended your class. Just memorize the bare minimum That's it No one there's worried about being on the dean's list I'm not even sure if there was one It was all about knowing we were going to be doctors And taking advantage of it

The entire school was basically a medical fraternity And you know how well things go for frats I'm not sure where the ball started rolling But I know where it stopped Halloween a few years back And no, I don't tell the exact date either Gay Gorder I think the rest of this will be ambiguous enough

That I'm in the clear Even leaving my name out of it Anyway, we loved our theme parties Especially stuff we could revolve our own medicine We weren't like those assholes Who do pimping hoe parties Or some racist-ass black-faced shit We did medical parties

Shots were in syringes, Ivy bags were available, at the door to help with the next day's hangover, stuff like that. Halloween, though. Halloween was always a big deal. How couldn't it be when you have readily available skeletons to misuse? Don't get me wrong, it's not like the teachers and Dean were in on it. This wasn't animal house.

We didn't do any of this out in the open. No phones, no social media. We still wanted to be doctors, and one asshole could ruin it for everyone. As it turns out, that was the case my senior year. Keep in mind, there are people out there that only want to be doctors. Like me, but not exactly. No one in my family was a doctor. That was my own motivation.

But some people come from families where it's an expectation. Yeah, you get those asshole parents that demand you go to their alma mater, take their exact path, but others just want to say, my kid's a doctor. That's all they want at the end of the day. That was my roommate. Let's call him Hank.

Hank was a smart enough guy who probably could have gotten into a better, more prestigious school. But honestly, I think it was a fuck you to his parents that he ended up at my school. He was smart too, mostly coasted through classes with minimal study, focused mostly on getting high, drunk, or laid.

ideally all three. The only thing really standing in the way was Professor, let's call him Jones. See, Professor Jones had a special kind of chip on his shoulder. Rumor had it that he couldn't practice anymore because of malpractice lawsuits. But firing a doctor, a surgeon, no less, is ridiculously hard because of the potential money loss. So they shuffled him off to a cushy teaching gig. Professor Jones took his job way too seriously.

The other teachers at the school were just fine, but they were just there to teach and everyone knew it. No one was really molding future minds. I'm not sure if Professor Jones was a prick by nature, if there was really something in him that was trying to keep the rest of us from making the same mistakes he did. But he was a ballbuster. And for whatever reason, no one really knew.

He took it out on Hank. After less than a month of classes with Jones, Hank already hated him. But he couldn't drop his class because he was already walking a fine line with his GPA and total credits. He was having a hard time and was completely focused on letting off steam. Half the time I was sleeping on the couch in our apartment as he was letting off steam, so to speak with whoever he could convince to come home with him. By the time Halloween was coming around, Hank got a kind of a focus like I'd never seen. He was all but failing Jones's class and convinced a group of us

that we were going all out for a senior year, that we were going to do something legendary. I don't think I understood what he meant when he said it. I don't think Hank was sleeping much. He looked strung out, and there were rumors he got in access to the pharmacy on campus, but no one knew for sure. We just figured he was under pressure from his parents and he blamed Jones for it. Anyway, the plan was to have the ultimate med school Halloween bash. Limited invite, no more than 100 people, no first years at all, no one we didn't trust or have dirt on to stay quiet. Remember when you were a kid and did that party game where you were blindfold and put

your hand in bowls that had peeled grapes and someone said they were eyes or spaghetti and someone said they were brains? Well, we were going to do the real thing with cadavers. It became a game of one-upping each other. What we could do is skeletons, what we could smuggle out of gross anatomy. Basically, we were breaking laws that would have kept us from ever being doctors. But we were young and dumb and drunk on the idea of being doctors. And to his credit, Hank was a hell of a motivator.

He kept telling everyone he was going to have the best bit ever. Put $100 on it and dared others to match it. By the time the pot was out of grand, things were getting serious to the point that the faculty was making really vague announcements about missing items from classes and labs. All said and done, we could have remade Frankenstein's lab with the shit we pilfered. We weren't going to keep any of it. At least that's what we told ourselves. By the time the party came along, we had it all planned out. Somehow, Hank had gotten access to an old dorm that was basically just,

there as storage before it was going to be torn down in the spring. People took turns bringing stuff in and setting up individual rooms with their motif. Windows were blacked out or blocked, and no two rooms were next to each other to draw attention from prying eyes. Sure, rumors were swirling around campus of something epic going on, but that just made it that much more exciting. Even my room, which... Fuck, I probably can't say.

Let's just say there was a... a hostile theme and leave it at that. But it was mostly just makeup anyway. Only two of the props were actual body parts. I get it. You think this is fucked up. You think we're monsters. We weren't monsters.

We were byproducts of a system focused around memorization, diagnosis, and dehumanization. How else can we do ER rotations and deal with gunshots, child abuse, drug overdoses, and go on with our day? If that means we were okay with Jane sneaking a jar of eyeballs and formaldehyde out for one night, or Mark using some of the parts from anatomy for props in a party that we're going to get burned anyway, then maybe you need to take a good long look at yourself and realize. Our job is the result of your lives, your violence, your poor decisions.

Anyway, when the night finally came, there we were. We went room to room, owing. and awing over the displays. I'm not going to pretend that it wasn't fucked up. It was. But it wasn't that bad. Mostly just body parts. It wasn't until we were almost done that we realized Hank wasn't there.

We figured he was drunk high or naked somewhere and decided to move forward to see this display he thought was going to be so amazing. When we opened the door, well, we saw Professor Jones. The scene was... The scene was from Silence of the Lambs, where the SWAT team bused into the room where Hannibal Lecter was caged up to see the prison guard hanging and gutted from the bars. Except instead of a guard, it was Professor Jones.

Eyes wide. Intestines spewing out onto the floor. No one moved. No one checked a pulse. No one called 911. Future doctors. Yeah, right. We did what I think anyone would have done in the same situation.

We bailed. There was no thoughts of what to do beyond the moment and self-preservation. Less than an hour later, we heard sirens. Someone had started a fire in the old dorm. A place burned to the ground. Sure, the cops found the stuff that had been stolen around the campus and Professor Jones' body. But that was it. No evidence the rest of us had ever been there.

It doesn't matter if you believe me or not, but it wasn't me who started the fire. And I'm not going to lie and act like I'm not glad it happened. It saved a lot of people from going to jail and losing their lives. Maybe we should have, but sometimes life sucks too. Fact is a lot of us went on and finished up our degrees and went on to practice medicine. Makes me smile when I think about that. How about you? I never heard from Hank again.

Sometimes I wonder where he is. You know what you call a guy who graduates the bottom of his class in med school? You call him doctor. Maybe you call him doctor. For your bonus episode, Creepy Presents The Worst Experience to Awakened to written by Nerdex Corax Creep

and narrated by Nate Dufort. My vision is blurred and dark as I open my eyes. I can feel immense pressure in my head as I realize that I'm hanging upside down. As the clarity of my vision returns, I notice that the room I'm in is completely unfamiliar to me. It looks like a dark, old, and decrepit basement from an abandoned crack house.

Rotted wood, massive spider webs, and the smell of muses surround me. My initial instinct is to scream for help, but I stop myself before I do so. No, they'll hear you, I think to myself. Whoever did this, they'll hear you if you scream. Instead, I decided to put all my focus into trying to free myself. My body is completely bound in some sort of sticky rope. I can hear the sounds of cracking as it separates and re-sticks as I wiggle around. Whatever this stuff is, there is no freeing myself from it.

I begin to panic as claustrophobia begins to set in. The idea of being bound and immobilized has always been a terrifying thought for me. The pressure of the blood rushing to my head, from hanging upside down for so long, soon begins to affect me. My vision starts to go blurry again, and the weight on my lungs begins to strain my breathing, coupled with the anxiety of being in this predicament. I begin to lose it. My composure breaks as I begin to scream and cry.

It's too much for me. Even if it means some psychopath comes and finishes me off, I can't stay like this any longer. Maybe I'd get lucky, and my kidnapper isn't here. Maybe my screams will be heard by a passer-by, and they find me here, wherever here is. I scream and cry and scream as loud as my pressured lungs will allow. My vision soon begins to darken once again. But before I pass out, I notice something. There's a wooden staircase ahead of me, and I soon.

begin to hear the sounds of footsteps. They aren't heavy. More so they sound like someone is walking with tap dancing shoes. Are you awake, dear? I hear a calm, distant voice from upstairs. The figure begins to slowly walk down the stairs, metallic tapping with each step. I become speechless as I notice exactly who or what the figure is.

Whatever this thing is. It's not human. At first glance, because of my affected vision, it appears to be a tall, slender woman. Long tangled hair covers her face as she slowly approaches. As I pay closer attention, however, I noticed two arms holding onto the railing, and two more arms grabbing the ceiling above her. What I thought was tap dancing shoes, which revealed as long bony legs with barb-like claws protruding from her feet. As I scream at the sight, she lifts her head to stare at me.

Massive mandibles opening wide as she lets out a horrible whale, her six pairs of black eyes opening wide as she does so. She rushes over to me, two clawed hands grabbing my body, and the other two grabbing my face. I could feel the warmth of urine as I lose all composure. I panic at her upside-down face coming close to my own. The massive mandibles lock. onto my face, digging into the four corners as I feel the horrible sensation of a fleshy, disgusting

tube enter my mouth. I struggle as I feel some kind of fluid go down, well, up my throat, my gag reflex failing me. As she finishes her violation, she backs away and retracts the mandibles into her face. They fold inward and eventually her face looks just like a normal woman. Her many eyes closed shut, but then she opens the two located in the normal area where human eyes would be. No longer are the eyes a tar-like black like before, but a regular pair of brown human eyes. As I observe her now human-looking face, I recognize who she is. It all comes back to me, who she is and where I was before I woke up here. You, I say, as I tried to forcefully vomit whatever was now inside of me.

I'd met her at the coffee shop where I work. She came in, struck up a conversation, and we'd immediately hit it off. By the end of the night, I found myself at her apartment and in her bed. I remember after we did the deed, I began to get lightheaded. I went to the bathroom, splashed water on my face. As I stared at my reflection, my vision went dark, and I passed out right then and there. That was the last thing I remembered before I woke up, hanging upside down by what I previously thought was rope, but I'm now convinced as some kind of webbing.

Hello, dear, she says in a calm and relaxed tone. Thank you so much for such a wonderful time. She turns around folding her extra arms behind her back and retracts her claws into her fingers. As she walks back up the stairs, she stops and says one last thing. I know he'll take good care of them. I'm so happy I met you. You'll make sure they're well fed and grow to be big and strong. Every horrible possibility of what she meant races through my mind.

mind. I begin to panic once again, screaming and crying out for someone, anyone to help. I soon begin to feel something in my stomach. Oh no, I cry out loud. The pain is excruciating and it feels like something is tearing me up from inside. I scream as loud as I can and I feel bile coming from my throat, pouring onto the floor. Almost immediately I pass out and awaken in a bed. I set up quickly and realize I'm in my room, in my bed. I began to sob as I realized that it was all a horrible dream. I walk into my bathroom and splash water on my face. I stare at my reflection and realize I look like absolute shit.

My complexion is pale like a corpse, and the rings under my eyes add to that comparison. Suddenly I gag and bile expels from my mouth. The pain is unlike anything else. I grab my abdomen reflexively and notice something odd. I feel around with my hands and realize there are dozens of tiny lumps. They're moving around under my skin, inside my body. I scream and scream as they move their way up my body until they reach my throat. Soon after dozens of bird-sized spiders emerge from my mouth as their sharp clawed feet scratch the inside of my throat as they climb their way out.

I try to scream, but my voice is blocked as one after the other. These small monsters are birthed from my esophagus. Once again, I pass out from the pain, the panic, and the exhaustion. I'm awake, still on the bathroom floor. The lights are still on and I feel all around my body. I feel skinny like all the fat and muscle has been sucked out of me. I'm barely strong enough to stand, but I somehow muster the strength to use the bathroom sink to pick myself up. In my reflection, I noticed that I look even worse than before.

I'm even paler. But now, black liquid stains my mouth, chin, and chest. I hear shuffling coming from my bedroom, and I slowly approach the door. Shaking, I open it, and the shock of what I see leaves me speechless. All around the room. room. There are children, small, normal-looking toddlers, completely naked and covered in black slime, sit and stand all around the room. I have no words. I have no idea what to do. I try to speak, but only a small peep comes out. As soon as they hear the sounds of my

words failing to come out, they focus their attention on me. There's an uneasy silence as I stare at them, and they stare at me. Suddenly, four more sets of eyes open wide as they all let out high-pitched shrieks, their mouths opening wide to reveal horrible-looking mandibles. They rush over to me, and I scream as they latch on. I fall to the floor and mentally prepare myself to be eaten alive. But that doesn't happen. They're hugging me.

Tiny arms are wrapped around my arms, legs, and body as they rub their tiny, horrible-looking faces on me. I want to scream, but I don't want to set them off. One of them looks at me right in the eyes, a creepy-looking smile forming as it retracts its mandibles back into its face. The tiny black eyes staring into me. I suppose this means today is my first father. day. For even more from creepy, 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. All stories told on this podcast are used under license and may not be rebroadcast or distributed

without the express prior written consent of the stories author. Please contact us at creepypod at gmail.com for further information on obtaining the rights necessary to rebroadcast or distribute a particular story.