Creepy - Day 11 - RSVP & The Man in the Trunk

Episode Date: October 11, 2025

RSVP***Written by: Kendra Kae and Narrated by: Alicia Atkins***The Man in the Trunk***https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/***Support the show 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.

Creepy presents the 31 days of horror. Day 11. 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 our simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. Good morning, Alicia.

I'm glad we finally got a chance to sit down together. I'm sorry it took so long, but, well, you might have noticed, but we've been very busy here. Lots of people with bad dreams, huh? You could say that. How have you been doing? Okay, I guess. When I'm awake, at least. Are you still having trouble sleeping? No, the trouble is waking up.

How so? It just feels like they're hard to wake up from. Even when I'm already awake. Yes, I understand. You aren't alone in that. I found it's best to talk about your dreams in those moments. It makes them more of a story and less of something tangible to be felt. Would you like to tell me about the most recent time this happened to you?

Okay. It was last night, actually. It's still kind of bothering me how real it all felt. Whenever you are ready. I think it started with an RSVP. I love Halloween. Lots of people say that, but I really, really love it. It's bigger than Christmas for me. I take vacation days on Halloween.

I start planning next year's Halloween party during this year's Halloween party. I put a lot of thought and effort into everything. The guest list, the decorations, the theme, the party games, designing the invitations. It's my favorite time of the year, a season dedicated to fun and fright. I love to be scared. Being scared seems to be one of those divisive things. Some people like it, some people hate it. But those of us that love it, really love it.

My older sister got me into horror movies at an extremely young age, I think around three years old, watching full-on gore and slasher movies. I was scared, but kept asking for more. My parents weren't terribly pleased, but since it didn't seem to actually upset me or cause any problems, they let it go as just one of those weird things that their daughters liked. My parents are pretty neutral on the holiday, but my sister loves Halloween in horror just as much as I do.

As an adult, I was lucky enough to be. to meet my husband, who also happened to be a huge fan of Halloween, horror, and getting a rush from fear, just like me. The first year we moved into our new house, we threw our very first Halloween party together, and it quickly became an annual tradition. These parties have become something of a legend within our social group. Word of mouth is spread, and the guest count has been going up each year. I try to make it bigger, better, and scarier each year. It's a time when we can really let loose and enjoy ourselves. I should make it clear that this isn't just your average Halloween party.

You won't find people in cute cartoon character costumes purchased at the last minute from a chain store, any of the usual kitschy decorations or cheesy party games, plastic eyeballs, bowling with miniature pumpkins, that stuff has no place here. We go big. The element of fear is what makes Halloween so much fun, right? So you need to get some real, genuine fear to make it really great night. Some of the things that go on at these parties, well, most people would probably find them a bit extreme.

Not everyone loves to be scared as much as we do. There's actually a whole group of us. I don't just mean me and my husband, my sister and our friends. I mean in general, we're everywhere. And we know that this extreme love of horror isn't for everyone. And a lot of people wouldn't understand what we do at these. parties. We've been careful to keep the guest list to people that we know will appreciate it like we do. We even have kind of a sign to recognize each other. Have you heard about swingers and the

upside-down pineapple? The story is that swingers, when they're on a vacation or cruise, have a pineapple-shaped magnet or token of some sort and place it in an upside-down orientation to signal to other couples that they're open to swinging. It's a subtle but effective way of communicating. A pineapple is innocent enough, just a tropical fruit, a common decoration or pattern for vacationing people, that wouldn't offend anyone that held more traditional values. But placed in an upside-down position, it became a discrete way to strike up connections with other couples open to that lifestyle. Our symbol is similar, and that at first glance, it's just a typical Halloween icon. Something you would see on any Halloween pattern tablecloth, sticker book, or other decoration.

but with a few unique specific details added. I won't tell you exactly what it is, of course, but it's one of those, if you know, you know, kind of things. Who knows, you may own a decoration with that symbol on it and have no idea of its implication. Anyways, that first Halloween at our new house was a pretty small group of us, just those that we really knew for sure would appreciate the style of the party. Looking back now, it was pretty tame compared to what we did in following years, but it was a good start.

It let us get a feel for the house, for one thing. This was the first house we had owned, not rented, so we were able to do whatever we wanted. We really lucked out on our location, too, at least as far as the neighborhood in general. We were still in the city, but the houses were so spread out, with large lots, that it felt like you had a really private backyard. In addition to that, it was a fairly after-year-old. affluent neighborhood, which meant that a good percentage of families owned second homes. Our neighbors directly to the south and to the west, the ones adjacent to our backyard, were gone more weekends than they were home.

And our neighbor to the east was elderly and almost completely death, so we knew we wouldn't be disturbing her. We kept ourselves mostly in the house that first year, though, just in case. We didn't get any complaints about music or any other loud noises throughout the night. And it was Halloween, after all, so any screams or anything didn't raise as much alarm as they might at other times of the year. As we got more confident, and as our group grew, we did spread out into the backyard in subsequent years.

More room and easier cleanup in an outdoor space. And it got really fun when everyone started contributing ideas for future party themes and games. We drew a lot of inspiration from horror movies, video games, even True Crime Podcast. Sure, we had a few years where things didn't quite work out. One year, a friend brought her latest boyfriend, then been dating for a few months, and she said she was pretty sure he'd be on board with our activities. Turns out, he was not.

He got majorly freaked out. We were able to kind of play it off, saying that we've just been joking, and ended up convincing him that the event that had spooked him was really just an elaborate prank with great special effects. He believed us enough that he didn't cause any major issues. But they broke up shortly after that and we didn't see him again. It's too bad, but I'm glad there wasn't any fallout. We keep a pretty tight lid on our group,

and we don't want people spreading a bunch of stories about us or trying to put a stop to what we do. Our good years far outweighed the bad, though. Early on, I think it was only the second or third year, a new neighbor moved in down the street who happened to be an EMT. He quickly got involved in our parties, which was a huge bonus. Not only was he genuinely a great guy and tons of fun at any event, but having someone on hand that could do medical treatment

without the need for us officially involving emergency services helped keep us off the radar. And then about four years ago, we lucked into an even better connection. A friend of ours brought his cousin, an active-duty police officer. another great guy who ended up becoming a permanent part of our social circle. We relied heavily on his advice and tips for avoiding suspicion if something were to ever get out of control. And if it ever did, well, he would be able to help us with that, too. You must be thinking, an EMT, a cop, but like I told you, we're everywhere.

You'd be surprised at some of the people that run in our little club. Even I was surprised at some of them. one of them was actually a co-worker of mine. Well, more than a co-worker. He was the vice president of my company, high on the corporate ladder. I had happened to stop by his office for a chat one day, and as he was flipping through a notebook, I noticed a sticker of our symbol on the inside cover.

I instinctively reached out and placed a hand on the book, and our eyes locked. If you know, you know. I casually mentioned that I hosted a big Halloween party every year, Maybe he'd be interested in stopping by. He'd just as casually replied that he'd probably enjoy that. He's been a regular attendee every year since. No, we're not psychopaths. We're not freaks or sadist.

We just get a kick out of being scared. There's probably some psychological or even physical reason for it. Why it only really applies to certain people. The way some people get easily addicted to certain substance. and sys and others aren't affected. Why some people love heavy metal music and others can't stand it. Why some people love cilantro while others insist that it tastes like soap. All I know is that feeling of being scared, really scared, terrified, is one of the best feelings in the world. A rust that just gets your heart pounding, your skin tingling, and keeps you buzzing for minutes or even

hours afterwards. It's not something you can just get from a movie or a haunted house ride at the carnival. It needs to be real. Think of adrenaline junkies, daredevils, thrill seekers. Those people are probably similar to us. People that enjoy whitewater rafting or skydiving or swimming with sharks, all of those activities have a definite element of danger. Sure, there are plenty of safeguards in place, but something could go wrong. You could end up hurt, or worst-case scenario, dead. But again, that's not really our intention. It's not that we want to get seriously injured or killed.

It's just the possibility that is so exciting. Really, it's not that crazy. Don't knock until you tried it. I mean, it does happen sometimes. I admit I was a bit worried the second year when I really ramped up the intensity of some of the party games. That was the year that Tracy lost a finger in the knife game. She was, understandably, pretty panicky when it happened.

We calmed her down, though, and got her to the hospital pretty quickly. She explained it away at the emergency room as a kitchen accident, leaving out any mention of the party or our address. She got the finger reattached, although it didn't quite function the same after that. But after she recovered, she was more excited than anyone to come back for the party the following year. I'm telling you, it really grows on you. One year, I arranged to have a few of the guests transported to an off-site location away from our house, though none of them knew about it ahead of time.

Afterwards, they all agreed that the blindfolds and duct tape were a nice touch. Their frantic scrambled through the woods when they escaped from the van I had kidnapped them in was a delight to watch. They managed to reach the conspicuously lit up cabin, which was actually owned by a friend of ours, and the expression on their faces when they entered and found the rest of the party guests waiting for them was priceless. Then there was the year with the pool.

We'd been having warmer weather than usual, so we had quite a few backyard activities lined up. We don't have a very large pool, so we could only fit three people in the deep end at a time. Don and Stephanie got out pretty quickly, but Jeff only got one foot unchained from the cinder block before he started to panic. We were keeping a close eye out, though, and he was only unconscious for a few seconds before he pulled him out. Some quick CPR, and he was revived in no time. Everyone, Jeff included, agreed that that was one of our best years ever.

Anyways, we've got our theme for this year all lined up. As I mentioned, I've been trying to make the parties better each year. and more extreme. We're going all out for this one, and this year happens to be our 10th year hosting, so I really want to make it our best one yet. Last year, we had about 30 guests, and it was a great group. Every single one of them was a die-hard, extreme horror fan.

During that party, we were already planning ahead for the next one. Everyone knew it was going to be a milestone, and we were reminiscing about some of our best events from previous years, things we wanted to incorporate into our decade celebration. The one thing that everyone agreed upon was that it needed to be bigger, the more the merrier, right? So, this year, we're really opening it up. It was decided that every single person would be required, required,

to bring us at least one new guest to the 10-year party. If you could find another true fear lover like us, and, like I said, there are plenty of them out there, then great. If you couldn't, well, you'd have to bring someone else that you thought might be able to handle our unique forms of entertainment. Maybe they'd end up converting to our ways. It's happened before. And we've gained some great new members that way. Maybe if you try it, you'll end up liking it, you know?

Then again, some people just won't ever be on board of what we do in our group. If a new guest pushes back, maybe we'll be able to bluff our way out of it, like we did that one year, and the person won't cause any trouble for us. But if they do... Well, we have our ways to deal with that, if it happens. Remember that police officer friend of ours? He's fiercely protective of our group, and he'll make sure things break our way, if needed. Plenty of incidents occur every year on Halloween. You get a bunch of adults together, drinking, playing pranks, and accidents happen, right?

The host or guest of a party certainly can't be to blame if a freak accident were to occur, especially if a respected police officer is present to corroborate their story. So we're all looking forward to this year's party. Experiencing the fear ourselves is something we all love, obviously. But recently, we've come to learn that watching other people, people be scared out of their minds is pretty darn fun too, even if they don't enjoy it. Maybe even especially if they don't enjoy it. That year with the boyfriend, the guy who was pretty upset by it, we all felt bad for him.

At first. But eventually, one person in our group confessed that they had kind of liked watching him freak out. One by one, the rest of us admitted that we had gotten a kick out of it too. And that had been a relatively tame event. Imagine how much better it would be if it was one of the more extreme things we've done. And what if we had someone who really didn't want to be scared, who really hated it? How awesome would that be? I can't wait to see how that might turn out.

This year has flown by, and it's October already. Maybe you'll be receiving invitations to a few Halloween parties this year. Nowadays, most people just spread the word by verbal invites, or by sending a quick text telling you the time and place. But plenty of people still enjoy sending physically printed invitations, or at least a digital image through a text or email. You can make some pretty fancy ones online these days with basic free software. There are plenty of pre-made templates,

but you can also add your own customized icons. If you receive one, you might want to pay attention to those little, little designs, those cute skulls, jack-a-lanterns, ghost or spiders, decorating the edges of the invitation, might have a deeper meaning than you think. I'll be sending my invitations to our group today, and each one of them will be passing them along to a potential guest of their choice. The party is in a few weeks. Maybe I'll see you there.

Thank you for sharing that. How are you feeling now? A little better, I think. So what do I do now? What do you mean? I mean, like, when do I know if I'm all better? It's best not to look at this in terms of being better. It's a process, and it can take time.

The more that you can relax and distract yourself, the faster this will all go. If you say so, I'm not going to get mad at taking a vacation. Splendid! Thank you. Alicia. Have a wonderful day. Did you adjust the dosage back as I requested? Yes, Doctor. Good. Let's see if things are back to baseline. How are you feeling today? Fine. First. What? I need to know your current state of mind and your level of cooperation. Do you think you could help with that? And if I do? I'd like to assess your

level of cooperation before you can divulge that information. So what do you want me to do? The most recent dream. My dream? That's it? That's it? Fine. I guess you could sum it up with the man in the trunk.

They say if you wander too far into the storage tunnels beneath the abandoned railroad yard outside and over a hollow, you might hear a voice. Not a scream, not a plea, just one hollow phrase. I have no purpose. The voice doesn't come from the air. It doesn't echo. It seeps into your chest like a damp chill and settles there. Like it's being spoken from inside you.

Locals call it an urban legend, a superstition to keep kids from trespassing. But if you believe it's real, They believe the voice belongs to the thing inside the trunk. The history of the man in the box is sparse. You can find it if you know what you're looking for. The first record found came from circa 1423. The earliest mention comes from a court journal belonging to a scribe of King Aldrich III of Varnas,

a minor long-fallen kingdom somewhere in the frozen highlands of what's now Western Europe. The entry is terse. The angled man advised a king again today. Never seemed to move, never heard to eat, arrived encased, tucked five times upon himself to fit the royal coffer. Yet he speaks with perfect knowledge, said the walls would fall by winter. They did. He never sleeps.

He only speaks when asked, save for one. thing he repeats without request, I have no purpose. No record explains where the angled man comes from, only that he was given as tribute by a delegation of robed strangers with no known language. The scribes entries grow more erratic over time, often repeating that the man bleeds but does not die, that his ribs move like they are chewing, and that his eyes change color with the season. Over the centuries, accounts mention a small cargo trunk or traveler's coffer of dark ironwood construction, bound in metal bands etched with symbols that no one can look at for too long

without feeling overwhelmed. As if their unknown translation were so important, they were the words of a deity. Dimensions varies slightly, but it's always described as too small for an adult, yet he is always inside it. Witnesses describe the interior as wrong, like a space that curves inward too many times. The man's body is always positioned unnaturally. Shoulders beneath hips, knees past years, head backward, they're hidden, but never crushed,

always alive. They say he blinks so you know he's alive in there. Those who open the trunk never forget. get what they see. One survivor wrote in 1812, He is not screaming, not pleading. He just blinked twice, very slowly. His jaw clicked open, and he said it.

I have no purpose. Then he looked at me like I was the one who'd said it. What's chilling isn't that the trunk shows up across centuries. It's that every powerful, or more accurately, power-hungry, man or woman who finds it, becomes obsessed. They bring him offerings, ask him questions, use him as a profit or as a consultant, sometimes as a toy. He never resists, never moves, only answers.

Accounts from every major continent mention him. In 1587, a Russian general consulted a, quote, man in a case who knew enemy troop movements days in advance. In 1730, a merchant in Lisbon kept a trunk under his bed and became wealthy beyond comprehension. The merchant later died with his tongue and fingers blackened. His room soaked in seawater. In 1921, a German occultist wrote in a journal. He does not speak unless asked.

He is older than time, but younger than guilt. The only thing he gives freely is suffering. What binds him, why he can't die or sleep remains unknown. But one theory recurs in fragmented documents and whispered legend. He was made to witness. Not simply history, but the worst parts of it. Betrayals, atrocities, secrets buried beneath empires. Deals struck in the blood of innocence.

He sees them all, records them, never forgets. And that is his value, this knowledge, for these are the things that the darkest hearts yearn to know. Some claim that a truly good person will never know his image. His body has long since become something else, a vessel of memory stretched thin over bone, warped by time and information. Every nerve is wired not for survival, but for sensation. Every fold of flesh tucked in that trunk contains some horror of the past.

And when you open it, when you look at him, he shares a sliver of what he holds. Just enough to ruin you. A report from 1983, source unknown, recovered from a collapsed tunnel beneath West Berlin. The notes are sparse but chilling. Biological. human origin radically distorted, no evidence of sustenance, no decay, responsive to questions in all 13 languages attempted, unable to find historical details, appears to be angled unnaturally but without trauma, refuses to say anything but I have no purpose, repeated upon every closing of the lid.

The file ends with a note. subject released from containment, relocated, unknown party involved. In 2009, a Craigslistant briefly appeared in Seattle's Antiques and Oddities Section. Old naval trunk smells like salt and ash, heavy, sometimes cold, locked, but has no keyhole, found in a state of dead uncle, free to anyone who can take it out of the basement, must bring Own Dolly. will not carry it upstairs. Basement light doesn't work. The listing was removed within two hours,

but one man reportedly responded. His name was David Merselt, a local urban explorer and blogger. His last social media post made 72 hours after the had vanished reads, It was real, not a prop. I saw it breathe. I saw its spine move. I don't know how he's still a lot.

I asked him why he was there. He just looked at me and said, I have no purpose. But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was that after he said it? I believed him. David hasn't been seen since. The post has since been scrubbed from all records.

We don't know his name, the man in the trunk, the angled one. Something he had one, once. Maybe he was a scholar or a sorcerer, maybe a prophet or a traitor. Some say he was a king who tried to see too much, obsessed with knowledge beyond the reach of his time. Others say he was cursed by the stars themselves to become a container, not of knowledge, but of the awful burden that comes with knowing too much. Over time, his bones twisted to match the limits of his prison. His muscles atrophied, then changed. His skin turned to the skin.

pale and thin, like wax stretched over wire. But his mind? Still sharp. Still aware. Still watching. There's a whisper online in dark forums and hidden chat rooms that you can still find them. That the trunk travels.

It shows up in estate sales, abandoned cargo lots, locked auction basements. Some believe the trunk chooses you. To open it, you need to wait and take. until midnight in complete silence with no lights. The lock will click open on its own, slowly. Inside you won't see much, just a pale fold of a shoulder, maybe part of a mouth or a hand contorted like it's mid-spasm. If he senses you're still there, he'll blink,

and then, quietly, just above a whisper from inside that warped wood, I have no purpose. You'll hear it in your own voice, and something inside you will change. People think it's a gift, access to endless knowledge. But it's not. It's punishment. Those who see them often become obsessed. They go back again and again, just to hear what he'll say when he sees who you are and what you desire.

Just to ask things they were never meant to know, but the trunk always collects it. its toll. They lose sleep, then time, then relationships. They vanish from jobs, families, society, drawn to something they cannot stop visiting. Some think he isn't the original angled man, that it hasn't been the same abomination throughout history. Some believe that those who possess him, who use him, they end up replacing him. Or worse, they end up replacing him. They end up, they up becoming part of the trunk itself, because it's not just him in there anymore. There are rumors that sometimes when the lid opens, you can hear multiple voices, some crying, some praying, and all of them eventually whispering.

I have no purpose. ...tete your cooperation. Tid for tat, Doc. Indeed. In return, I do think it would be... good for you to get out for some exercise. Oh, you mean like outside? We're quite ready for that, but we do have an excellent gymnasium and...

Why can't I go outside? It's for your safety and ours. What's that supposed to mean? If you could step up to the window, there's a screen we've set up to show you some security footage. Footage of what? Footage of you. The last time we opened that door. The last time.

What? It looks like the dosage is working again. Yes, it does. Luckily enough for you. I think we are almost ready to move on to phase two. We just have one more aggressive test. 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 share-a-like 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.