Creepy - Day 10 - Mommy Sleeps in the Basement

Episode Date: October 10, 2019

A school project...***Written by JuniperJune_HJH and narrated by Danielle Hewitt and Savannah Gracie***See your donation rewards podcast at patreon.com/creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCQ3SrH_3fsROXFAjomKcUtw***Music by Steve Blizin***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.

Creepy is proud to be a part of the bloody disgusting podcast network. This podcast, and the 31 Days of Horror, is made possible thanks to our patrons. So please join me in welcoming and thanking new patrons. Bree Pierce, Chakendra Morgan, Shane Luthie, Heather Rive, Mel S., Samuoku, Kurt Bandy, Captain Chaos 3201, Michael Geary, Richard Scott, Devin Cottrell, Connie A. A. Peterson, and Chris McLean. our patrons make this show possible. That's why for all of October 2019, new patrons at the $5 and above level get, in addition to their regular rewards of 400 bonus episodes,

with four new bonus episodes posted every week, early commercial free access to all new episodes, and their shout-out. They also get a limited edition creepy refrigerator magnet. If you'd like to see how you can support this podcast and get rewards on top of rewards for doing so, please check out patreon.com slash creepypod. Now, this is creepy.

A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepy pastors 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. Mommy sleeps in the basement. Written by Juniper June H.J.H. And narrated by Danielle Hewitt and Savannah Gracie.

Speak louder, please. I put my hand up next to my ear from the back of the room, signaling that she would need to raise her voice. She took a deep breath. I could see anxiety turning her cheeks beat red as strands of blonde hair began to fall out of some nappy ponytail she wore every day. There was something about her.

So familiar. But I just couldn't put my finger on it. With her face glued to the paper, too afraid to make eye contact, she quickly sputtered out. Hi, my name is Paisley Jackson. This is my poem. called my family.

Paisley was a shy little girl. In fact, she was one of the quietest students I'd ever had in my ten years of teaching, which I guess being the youngest of eleven will do that to anyone. Surprisingly, she was very smart, unlike the rest of her siblings who were dumber than a box of rocks. Lord, the Jackson kids were such a headache. Except for Paisley, of course. I just wish I could have given her more opportunity.

to improve her future. Don't get me wrong. I tried to help Paisley. I really did. I gave her clothes, food, and even had funds lined up for her. But living dirt-pour in a shack out in the middle of the desert was a bad hand to be dealt in life.

Besides, no matter what I did, it wouldn't have made a difference. Everyone knows that the cycle of poverty is almost impossible to break. I crossed my legs, pen in hand, preparing for yet another bland story about a family I'd never get to meet. If you've ever worked with underprivileged kids, you'd know that guardian involvement is quite rare. When it came to the interest of their daughter's education,

Paisley's parents were no exception. I have two mommies, one name Betty, who can make good spaghetti. I call her mom. She's the one who's married to my dad. Talk. One name is a pretty yellow hair. I call her mommy.

Dad calls her his project, his hobby. Being smack dab in the middle of Utah, I've seen hundreds of polygamous families, so this didn't strike me as odd. Besides, even though polygamy is illegal, I try to keep my nose in my own business. Mom took to us as far. She can do that because she's so tall. Mommy wears a pretty silver bracelet. She wears it because she's so famous.

Wouldn't be the first time I saw kids coming up with stories about celebrity parents to add excitement to their ordinary lives. I just didn't expect it to come from Paisley. Mommy has me and Tommy. He's one of my older brothers. Mom is a lot older. She had all the others. I crint.

That meant that one of Paisley's mothers had given birth to nine children. I couldn't imagine going through that many pregnancies. That says me and Tommy, or a gift from God. You'll never hit us with a rod. His fight and joy is Tommy. But he says, the only person he truly loves is Mommy. I looked up from my grade book. up from my grade book, with the line about a rod catching my attention. However, this wasn't the

first time one of my students have accidentally reported abuse. Truth is, CPS picks and chooses who they want to help. Mom is having a nettle baby. She's mad. Dad wants to name it easy. Mommy can't have no more kids. Her last one died of sits. Shifting in my seat, I scribbled down a note reminding myself to deliver my daughter's old baby clothes to the Jackson Shack. As a mother myself, I know babies can be expensive. Dad says she did it on purpose, because she wanted to went off and joined the circus. Mom says it wasn't her fault. I promised to keep that secret inn to me and her fault. I shook my head in sadness. How could someone

blame a grieving mother for something she couldn't control. Mommy was the one Dad chose. She watched all of her school shows. They were joined in the night. Daddy said, inside of her is a lot of fight. Mom is just to cover. Dad doesn't really love her.

I threw my hand up, a gesture meaning stop. I had taught my students. But Paisley didn't look up. She continued to read, oblivious to my disappointed frown. Obviously, one of her siblings put her up to this as a joke. Mommy says she needs to get out. She wants to show me what life is all about. Dad gets mad.

It's his biggest pet peeve. Mommy is sad. She just wants to leave. Mommy sings to me, her favorite song. Mom says Dad's head was wired along. Shaking my head, I sighed. Another child with so much potential and such a kind heart was stuck in the middle of a lover's quarrel that didn't even involve her.

Last birthday, I wanted to take Mommy to see her favorite basketball team. Mom made me a cake with frost and buttercream. I got to go see the next. Dad said he made a mistake. He couldn't fix. Nothing is the same. I don't know why for sure. Now Dad cries at night, a lump.

Yes, God. What have I done? To Mom, he no longer tends. She hopes the baby will make amends. Paisley rose her head up with a smile looking for my approval. Although I was appalled at the inappropriateness of her poem, I didn't want to break her spirits. She clearly was very proud of it,

and scolding her for something that wasn't her wrongdoing was just going to send that little girl back into her shell that I've been trying to break for months. So instead, I clapped. Making the rest of the class, who were too young to understand the gravity of the situation, applaud too. Mrs. June, I brought her in a picture of Mommy for extra credit. It's got one more part of the poem. Can I show it to the class? I nodded my head. thinking there couldn't possibly be any details worse than what she'd already presented.

Paisley reached into the front pocket of her old worn-out hand-be-down dress, pulling out an old aging photo. She flipped the flaking picture around, displaying it as if it were her most prize possession. My blood ran cold. I finally figured out why Paisley looked so familiar to me. In what seemed to be a school photograph, smiling ear to ear, exactly like Paisley, was a young woman by the name of Claire Daisy. She was a high school student,

popular for her ability to gain the lead in every school play that went missing without a trace 12 years prior. She was last seen leaving theater practice late one night. But then she just vanished. No sign of a struggle. No witnesses, no evidence. No body, nothing. Her case was covered on every news station in Utah for a while.

because of how peculiar it was, until people lost interest. Paisley happily continued. I was so in shock I couldn't stop her as she read off the back of the picture. There is one thing I don't understand, and maybe you'll have the answer at hand. If Dad's love for Mommy will never sway, why did he treat her that way? Mom lays her head on a nice soft bed, but mommy sleeps in the basement under a big slab of the man.

For more information, including pictures and videos of the stories told on this podcast, or to suggest stories for future episodes, please visit us at CreepyPod on Twitter, Instagram and Facebook. or email us at creepypod at gmail.com. All stories told on this podcast can be found at creepypasta wikia.com and are protected by a Creative Commons license. Some rights reserved unless otherwise stated.