Creepy - Day 10 - A Woodland Stroll & There's a Spaceship That Refuses to Land

Episode Date: October 10, 2023

A Woodland Stroll***Written by: L.K. Alan and Narrated by: David Ault***Bonus Episode: "There's a Spaceship that Refuses to Land"***https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/***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.

Okay, who's next? Hello? Hey, isn't someone supposed to be recording right now? I swear, if you guys are hiding in there waiting to jump out, I'm going to scream and cry. David Alt. What are you doing in the closet? First time I've been accused of that. That's not what I...

Someone's going to get pissed at me for that one. Oh, relax, John. If there's one thing we Brits are known for, it's that... Bad teeth and worse food? You know that finishing other people's sentences thing goes both ways, right? Sorry. I was going to say our sense of humor. As such, a more uptight person might take issue with being pulled into whatever nonsense you found yourself in this time.

So, you're cool with just suddenly appearing in a haunted house in the United States? I prefer to think of it as taking things in stride with grace and dignity. That's really cool of you. I'll bake you some cookies. No one is going to understand that reference. I will. And it'll make me smile later. Sometimes I do this just for me. Okay, well, I was going to ask exactly how I got here, but would it be strange if I said there's a story I need to tell you? Not as strange as it should be. What's the story about? No. This is creepy.

A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepy pastas and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened or are 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 10 A Woodland Stroll

Written by L.K. Allen and narrated by David Alt. It seems incredible to me now that I'd been my happiest for months that fall day. I recall closing my eyes in pleasure as a cool breeze brushed against my face and listened to the sound of gently creaking trees. It had been a tough working week, so taking a stroll through my local woods with my best friend was the perfect remedy. I looked down at Archie and smiled in fond companions.

ship, recalling when he was young and I had to strain against his over-eager pulling on the lead. But time catches up with us all. Even for the famously strong, staffageable Terrier breed, these days the roles were reversed. My poor old boy struggled to keep up because of his arthritis riddled back legs, but he still enjoyed our walks, even if he couldn't venture as far now and only after a dose of his ridiculously expensive painkillers. luckily we didn't have to walk miles to enjoy ourselves because my home was on the doorstep of beautiful english woodland i could lose us amongst a field of bluebells or a picturesque nature trail within minutes in fact i'd been enjoying myself a little too much that morning because we'd wandered farther than intended having ventured beyond the well-trodden paths around the village we'd reach the wooded slope of hoarsely hill overlooking the derwent valley Now we approached the summit and the barely visible ruins of Horstyn Castle.

I'd not been here since the children were young and remembered it being a strangely challenging place amid the safe environments surrounding my home. Few locals came because of the rough terrain, and today was no different. Not a soul could be seen. Archie suddenly broke our comfortable silence by snorting in irritation. I looked down to find my friend shaking his point. On closer inspection, I found a fat ant dangling from his skin by nasty-looking pincers, which reminded me of the other reason people didn't linger here. The place teemed with wood ants.

You horrible little bastard! Archie gave me a wary look, sensing the rebuke in my voice. I flicked the insect away, then gave him a reassuring pat on the ribs. Sorry, mate. I was talking to the ant, not you. My friend gave a solitary wag of his tail to convey a gracious acceptance of my apology. Feeling a little guilty for bringing Archie too far out, I decided to give him a treat he'd enjoy and would also allow him to escape his tiny tormentors. I reached down and released the spring latch on his lead.

Go on then. I was rewarded with a glance of such wide-eyed joy I couldn't help but laugh. Without further invitation, he trotted off at a stage. lately paced toward the castle ruins, planting his nose on the ground to sniff his way forward. The ants'll bite your nose, you big dope! Archie ignored such words of wisdom, of course, because his high pain threshold was almost as legendary as his appetite. I followed, with my attention switching to the long-abandoned ruins ahead. Only the uneven ground hinted at the significant stone structure that once stood here,

other than a single remaining moss-covered tower. and even that had partially collapsed into unrecognizable obscurity. My curiosity about the castle had first sparked when we first moved to the area. I'd been eager to read about the history of my new surroundings, so looked up the castle and learnt the Normans built it almost a thousand years ago before it was abandoned in the 17th century for unknown reasons. There'd been an archaeological excavation in the 1920s, but the difficult terrain had hampered the dig,

which resulted in few finds of in. interest, not the Tower of London on my doorstep I'd been hoping for. Stepping off the rutted path, I trudged into the heart of the tumbled ruin and stumbled on a fallen tree branch. The near mishap triggered a sudden sense of disquiet in me, when I realized that if I fell and knocked myself out, the ants would... Silly old fool. Although I'd intended the rebuke to reassure myself, I placed my feet with greater care afterward, and my enforced courage shrank further when the light dimmed. I looked up to find ominous dark clouds gathering above. Great. My protest went unnoticed by the universe as the

shadows lengthened around me. I wanted to investigate this old place further, but my caution won over, so I decided to return later in the year when the weather was more predictable. I whistled for Archie who'd disappeared around the corner of the tower, however no tell-tale flash of white reappeared. Another ailment on his growing list of health issues had been his failing hearing. You should never have brought him all the way out here, you stupid idiot. A moment of agitated indecision followed the outburst before my concern for him outweighed the fear of my unsteady footing. I pressed on, slipping upon the now obscured rocks and undergrowth. Despite my precarious progress, I soon reached the tower.

I'd have to find him soon or risk an even more dangerous return when the inevitable downpour started. Archie, here, now! I used my firmest, don't mess with me any more, tone. And no response. I started to trudge around the base of the tower, but had only gone a few feet when a loud yelp from the other side set my heart thumping. Archie! I rushed over, strained.

my eyes to find him in the gloom, but he was nowhere to be seen. And my heart sank when I discerned a large hole among the shadowed bushes ahead. Edging to the lip of the pit, I pulled my phone free from my cargo shorts, then flicked on its inbuilt torch. As I angled the beam around the rough outline of the pit, the reason for its existence became clear. A great oak had toppled over, unearthing a cavity beneath. The damage looked recent, judging by the freshly tossed earth, Perhaps a storm caused this? Considering the remote location of the castle ruins, I could be the first person to witness the damage.

Fearing the worst, I pointed the light over the side. To my relief, the beam settled on the grinning face of Archie. He wagged his tail, oblivious to the fact he'd fallen into a mine shaft or excavation pit or whatever the hell that thing was. Quelling my anger at his cavalier attitude, I further examined the hole. I needed to find him. a way to reach him. Even better find a path for him to return without risking going down myself. I swept the beam to the right discovering a shallower slope on the pits eastern side,

a better prospect than the steep incline below me. I paced over to the gentler slope and called down to my friend. Come on then! In typical archy fashion, he headed straight from me in a half-charge, half waddle, but his upward momentum stalled as the pressure increased on his weaker back legs. Come on, fat lad, you can do it. My less than polite encouragement spurred him on, and Archie barked in determination, scrambling his little legs for purchase. The renewed effort succeeded.

He'd soon be within arm's reach. But he paused and raised his ear with only inches to go. Something had attracted his attention. Maybe a rat? I glanced behind him, but could only see a deep, a shadow in the recess. Now you decide to get your hearing back, pack it in and come here. However, the temptation proved too great because he ran back into the hollow. Cursing under my breath, I could only watch as his white tail disappeared into the dark. There was nothing for it. I'd have

to get the stupid shit at myself. After checking my phone signal and seeing two reassuring bars, I headed into the gloom, brandishing the dog lead in one hand and the phone torch in the other. When I swung the light into the deepest shadows ahead, I felt a pang of excitement mixed with shock. The beam had fallen upon the outline of a step framed by a rock ceiling above it. Fuck me, was all I could muster, realizing it could be a cave. I paced forward to reveal the steps continued into a pitch-black recess. Archie? Nothing.

I hesitated on the threshold, my thoughts filled with stories of people who'd come to an untimely end after following a beloved pet into danger. But an excited bark from below snapped me out of my indecision, and I headed down, while inspecting the rock roof above for signs it might collapse. Archie! I'd half whispered the words. Fearful a loud noise could bring the whole thing crashing on top of us. Another bark. He sounded close. I stepped down until the stairs ended in a short tunnel. The passageway ran for a dozen feet, then widened into a small stone chamber. Archie stood on the threshold of the space, growling at a bundle of rags at its centre,

where I presumed the rat must be hiding. I hurried over to him and latched the lead back onto his collar before risking a moment to examine our surroundings. The chamber appeared empty other than, for a carving shaped into a star on the flagged floor. Not a star. A pentagram? I ran the beam along the edge of the space and noticed the floor flags there had worn into an imperfect circle.

Unlike the pentagram, these markings didn't appear etched by tools but from where? I'd seen similar in old churches where the passage of countless feet had eroded the stone over centuries. Perhaps this place had been a chapel? "'Hebray me!' The dry rasping voice filled me with such panic I lurched back, dropping the lead. I pointed the beam at the rags where the noise had come from and realized to my utter astonishment I'd been mistaken.

The tattered remnants clothed a hunched figure. In morbid fascination I ran the beam along the length of the body to reveal mottled paper-thin skin stretched over a skeletal frame. The figure's hairless skull looked away as if afraid of the light. Its gaunt limbs cradled something obscured from my view. The thing silently unwrapped itself from what I now recognised as a low stone post. Then, face down, it dragged itself towards us like a dying man searching for water in the desert. To my utter horror I saw two heavy chains stretch out behind it.

One end had been tethered to a thick iron hoop riveted to the post, the other ended in two broad spikes driven through the pitiful creature's thigh bones. Libre may! This time I discerned a note of pleading in the words. Was that French? My arm-hairs stood on end when dimly remembered language lessons gave me the answer. Free me. Archie growled his disapproval, then stepped toward the thing as if building the courage to attack.

The sight of my friend being so aggrateful. Shocked me almost as much as the bizarre creature itself. Whatever it was, I knew we needed to leave now. But before I could react, a withered hand shot out, grabbed Archie's lead, and yanked with such force, it pulled his weak back legs off balance. The dog could only snap in indignation as he helplessly slid toward the figure. The creature chose that moment to reveal a hideous face,

bearing only a passing human resemblance. Red-slitted eyes framed a grotesque, misshapen muzzle with the angled look of a desperate predator. The beast glared at Archie with savage glee, bearing fangs that dwarfed the canines of my friend. I screamed when the creature scooped Archie into its grasp, then bit down on his exposed thigh. Instead of tearing at his flesh, the thing drank deeply with its evil eyes rolled back as if driven insane by pleasure. But my brave old boy. didn't hesitate to defend himself. He whipped his thick head around, then sank his powerful jaws into the cheek muscle of the creature before ripping it away. The beast immediately stopped feeding

and hissed in pain, but continued to clamp Archie in its clawed hands, readying to feed once more. I faced my choice then, abandoned my friend and hope his sacrifice would buy me enough time to escape or help him. People would understand. He's only a dog. Unable to face such a terrible nightmare, I turned to run, then halted again as I recalled the day we'd bought Archie as a puppy. How I'd cradled him like a baby on my chest that first night. How we'd given him his own tiny coat to keep him warm in the cold hours. How he'd been the most loyal childhood friend to my now-grown sons. No.

I span around and charged at the creature full pelt, crashing into his own. its chest. The momentum sent all three of us tumbling to the ground and I lay among the dust retching at the fetid stench of old death clinging to my clothes. Terrified the creature would repay my foolishness, I heaved myself onto all fours, then tried to crawl away. But to my dismay, I felt something iron hard clasped my left leg and squeeze so tightly the pain exploded up my spine like a thousand needles. I half turned to find the creature staring at me with a rictus grin of wild anticipation on its face. Unable to process what was happening, I closed my eyes in resignation as it dragged me shrieking

towards its waiting more. But the bite did not come. Only a sense I'd stopped moving. Forcing myself to look again, I saw the creature's attention had switched back to Archie, who'd clamped his jaw around its leg and now viciously tugged with all his might. I seized on that moment of distraction. to flail my arms across the filthy floor, searching for something to fend off the beast.

And when my fingertips brushed the hard edge of a rock, I snatched it and heaved it at the creature's collarbone. A loud snap reward in my efforts. The blow must have hurt because it finally dropped my leg to clutch at the wound where the filth of centuries spewed between its fingers. As if sensing its sudden frailty, Archie renewed his effort, snarling and shaking his jaw, the dog tore through sinew and shin alike. The assault must have aggravated the rusty chains

tethering our enemy because it howled in terrible agony as iron ground against bone. The bravery of my friend encouraged me to swing again, so I thudded the rock against the creature's already weakened neck. This time the blow sent its head tumbling across the flagged floor, like a hellish football. When the creature's decapitated skull came to rest, our eyes met one last time. I witnessed the burning red fire within them fade, and the predatory angles of its cheekbones soften into a man's. Then, in a final act, I will never forget, the creature opened its mouth and smiled, this time without malice, as if welcoming death. But I didn't have time to process the incredible event because an ominous rumbling sound above killed my growing sense of relief. The thought of being buried alive in

this evil place was enough to make me lurch to my feet. I grabbed Archie's lead and we sprinted through the tunnel, then back up the stairs with the structure groaning around us. Together we jumped into the light just as the stairway behind collapsed. I've told no one what happened since then, not even my wife. I can hardly believe it myself, so who else would believe such far-fetched nonsense? I wish my story ended there. You see, Archie changed. In the days that followed the attack, he became.

sullen and watchful. He no longer wagged his tail to greet me in the morning, and he'd even stopped eating. This was not like him at all. Yesterday it occurred to me that I'd not given him his arthritis medicine since before the day of the attack. Perhaps that was the problem. Perhaps he'd been in pain this whole time and I'd been too wrapped up in my own crap to notice. I shook my head at such thoughtless stupidity, then stepped into the kitchen and found his prescription in the sink drawer. Using a pipette, I sucked up a measured dose of the grey liquid and squirted the contents into a slice of bread, transforming the unattractive medication into a tasty snack. I found Archie sitting in the corner of the living room.

His flat gaze switched to me and the bread in my hand as I approached. Then he growled. Shocked to the core, I stopped in my tracks. He'd never threatened me before. Don't be miserable, you old git. I tried to keep my tongue. tone light despite my concern. He licked his lips, then bed his teeth. Determined to show my friend, I didn't mean any harm, I moved closer with the treat extended toward him. Look boy, what's this?

He bit me. Hard. My companion of almost two decades bit my wrist with such force that I thought my arm would snap. Worst of all, I saw the desperate pleasure in his eyes. before the bloody words sealing my fate etched themselves onto his forehead from within. Yeo sui Libre, I am free. Now, as I lay here in our bed staring at my sleeping wife's throat, I feel a terrible urge to do something that will change me forever. Something wicked. But I must resist, not just for her sake but for mine.

Because I remember that fetid. tomb and I remember the worn stone floor where that creature had paced in its terrible hunger, year after year, century after century. Was that my future? Yeah, okay, I don't understand any of this. That never happened to me. It's complicated. It's probably easier if you just go home and forget all this. Just like all of our other interactions.

And how exactly do you suggest I do that? It's probably magic. I'll just slam the door on you and he'll teleport home. I don't think that... Aberadabra! He's gone. No, I'm still here, and the door now appears to be locked. Such a crazy old house.

Well, I'm glad that's taken care of. I'm hungry. John. John. I'm still here. John! For your bonus episode, Creepy Presents. there's a spaceship that refuses to land.

Right now, there's a spaceship above our heads, circling the Earth, with no intention of landing. And we don't know why. Five complete space shuttle orbiter vehicles were built and flown on a total of 135 NASA missions from 1881 to 2011. Keep in mind that the space shuttle and the Apollo program are two different things. Apollo was all about getting to the moon. The space shuttle missions have been a little bit broader in their research, which is a good thing, when you might not entirely want people to know what you're doing. Fact.

The single largest representation of satellites in orbit is SpaceX. Yes, a for-profit publicly traded company. They've sent over 3,400 satellites into orbit with plans for 42,000. No, I didn't stutter. 42,000 for their Starlink network. But you know what? That's a completely different cluster fuck. I don't have time for. By comparison, the Chinese Ministry of National Defense ranks fourth, Ministry of Defense for the Russian Federation 5th, and the U.S. Air Force, a paltry 8th with less than 100.

Without question, the United States has most satellites in orbit. And these are just the ones that are publicly disclosed. I don't have the hours and days it would take to get into all the shit that's going on without metal circling our heads, monitoring our calls, emails, movement. patterns in an attempt to cultivate us and domesticate us into complacent cattle with no higher brain function beyond what's trending and what worth of shit we don't need is on sale. No, that's all a completely different garbage fire or depression. The issue isn't what's pointed down at us. The issue is what's pointed out into space.

Okay, try to keep up because this is as slow as I go. The four main U.S. satellite observatories are the Hubble Space Telescope, the Compton Gamaray Observatory, the Shandra X-ray Observatory and the Spitzer Space Telescope. Everyone knows that stuff. They follow that crap on social media and click like on the pretty pictures of galaxies and nebulas and all that stuff. They don't actually stop to consider any of as you move on to pictures of sunsets and swimsuits and people squeezing brisket to show how juicy it is. The fact is that while the world got distracted by the names the government allows us to know,

we completely ignore or forget things like Keyhole, aka H.11 Kennan. The first American spy satellite to use electro-optical digital imaging. We're talking real-time observations in the 70s. What do you think they progressed to? If you look at the orbital patterns, especially in low orbit, what you'll start to see is that the monitoring that's going on isn't on people. It's on the privately owned telescopes that are monitoring the sky. You know, the amateur setty types out of their eyes on the sky,

like they're going to find a needle in a haystack that the government controls. See, they need to be able to be able to be. to make sure that the eyes on the sky that could actually be able to provide any information to the public thinks that Tor browsers and a quest for truth aren't looking in the right direction when one of those satellites being launched into space en masse suddenly takes a strange path. It's only getting easier and easier as billioners clutter the mass media with their own vanity for the government to overtly do whatever the fuck they want to do, because no one wants to know the truth anymore.

They just want to think they're right. So they focus on the bullshit their local shill pedals them and spend all their time looking at screens instead of where the fuck we should be looking, at the sky that's closing in around us. Ironically, the deepest man-space flight in history was Apollo 13. That only went 248,655 miles from Earth. For reference, the moon is 238,900 miles from Earth. Mars is 65.281 million miles away and under current known methods of propulsion, traveling at 24,600

miles per hour would take seven months to get there. The supposed closest habitable planet is Proxima Centauri B at 4.2 light years away. So, assuming we can achieve and maintain the same speed as a Parker Solar probe with a manned vehicle, it could travel more than 700,000 kilometers per hour, about 0.067% to speed light. And that doesn't even get into the logistics of having a spacecraft large enough to hold a bare minimum of 49 breeding pairs to avoid inbreeding and ensure a chance to continue humanities, we know it during the trip. But all this is just elementary school word problem bullshit.

It doesn't matter, because all we ever think about is ourselves. All we ever worry about is how things will impact us in the here and now. What happens to this planet? Where will we live next? We judge your life in terms of how we understand it and compartmentalize it into thinking that at the very least, humanoid life must be thousands of years away. It's not. It's much closer.

Forget all your bullshit Hollywood sci-fi scripts about killing the environment, impluting the air and altering the nitrogen levels and all that other pseudoscience bullshit that some asshole in a copy shop is trying to pedal to the Lipomedia. If you believe in the Drake equation, setting out seven factors that would need to be known to come up with an estimate for the number of intelligent civilizations out there, then the theory is that there are 36 alien civilizations capable of communication in our galaxy. These factors range from the average number of stars that form each year,

in the galaxy through the time span over of which a civilization would be expected to be sending out detectable signals. Then again, our galaxy, and if you ask what galaxy were in, just fucking get a clue and go by a candy bar, is a hundred thousand light years across, with about a hundred billion stars in it. And I'm not talking about those crazy-ass tinfoil hat-wearing motherfuckers out there talking about how the reptilians provided the primordial calm for Australopithecus to evolve. into the low four heads you got to deal with in traffic every day? Are these Joe Rogan listening assholes who think they're in the know

because they talk about tardigrades and how it can exist in the vacuum of space despite it being 250 fucking years since they were discovered? I swear to whatever invisible friend you believe in that every person on this goddamn planet thinks are Christopher Columbus every time they learn the most rope piece of barroom trivia. Meanwhile, I'm talking about the actual interaction with alien life. And how do I know?

Simple, because, like I said, at the start of all this, there's a spaceship up there that refuses to land. You see, around the middle of 2020, while the world was focused on surviving COVID and another United States presidential debacle, some genius got the bright idea to launch and off the book's mission to space. 2020 had already seen a dramatic jump in objects launched into space. Satellites, probes, landers, crude spacecrafts, and space station flight elements, launched into Earth orbit or beyond. In 2019, 586 objects were launched into space all around the world. By 2020, that number jumped to 1,274, and it's gone up on a yearly basis.

So who would really notice one more object launched from an unspecified location with all the right people looking the wrong way? It could be the Soviet Soyuz spacecraft or SpaceX's Dragon capsule. No one really cares anymore if it doesn't involve something trendworthy. What the purpose was of the spacecraft is one of pure speculation. Anyone still involved in monitoring the project is so buried in NDAs and, I'm guessing, death threats, that getting details is almost impossible, even for people like me who know where to look. All I can figure out was that at some point,

the shuttle that was supposed to look like any other satellite or transport launch, went into orbit at just the right time so that no one who could see them would be looking. It just kept on going. would end? I have no idea. There are rumors, sure. Something about a message picked up from SETI, a long-term test using terminal patients and stuff that gets even weirder than that. But the fact is, that wherever the ship was headed, for whatever reason they were up there, it must have gotten there. Because suddenly, within the last month, some strange transmissions have started to show up. Now, you can hear signals from space all kinds of ways. V.H.I.

UHF, UHF receiver, an antenna with a high gain, or you can just through a computer to hear what's going on at the International Space Station. The recordings themselves, when they do appear online, don't last for long. So all you have to go on are transcripts. Keep in mind that the transmissions are coming

from a manned spacecraft that's been in outer space for over three years, over twice as long as anyone has ever spent in space. And they did so in a capsule small enough that the usual methods of producing oxygen through electrolysis would be limited at best, not to mention the amount of atrophy that would have happened to their muscles being in zero gravity for that long. That craft should have nothing more than floating corpses inside. And maybe it does. But they spoke, and they're still talking at random intervals.

If they can hear anyone down here is unclear, and I haven't seen any reports of people communicating back after the following conversation took place. I'm not clear who's speaking to the capsule, so I'll just refer to them as command. Capsule. We are here. Command. Please identify. Capsule.

We are here. Command. Unknown craft, please identify. Capsule. You know us. You sent us. There was a two minute pause. Then command said.

Please switch to encrypted channel. That was it for over a week. The astronauts must have switched over to the encrypted channel to talk with whoever it was at the command center. Then, a ham radio operator of all people picked up the following conversation. Capsule, we will remain here, waiting. We have all the time there is, but you do not. You want what we have seen, but you cannot have it. you do not deserve it.

The transmission is then broken up by the sounds of dozens and dozens of voices, all screaming at the same time. At the end of the day, I don't know what's going on. I don't know what's in the capsule, but I don't think it's the same as what left the earth in the first place, and I can't figure out what scares me more. The idea that something has come back from deep space and is hanging just above our heads watching us,

or the idea that they don't want to come back to Earth at all? And I have to ask myself, why? What's going to happen? 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,

All stories told on this podcast are done so through Creative Commons Sherrillite licensing or with written consent from the authors. No portion of this podcast may be rebroadcast or otherwise distributed without the express written consent of the creepy podcast production team and the stories author.