Creepy - Day 11 - The Perfect Child

Episode Date: October 11, 2018

There was once born a perfect child...***Content warning: graphic violence, child death***Please consider supporting the podcast at Patreon.com/Creepypod or creepypod.com/support***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCQ3SrH_3fsROXFAjomKcUtw***Produced by Steve Blizin, Puzzle Audio***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.

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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 11. The perfect child. He was the sweetest child in the world.

There was no doubt about it. The moment he was born, people gathered around the nursery, pointing at his sleeping form and crooning. What gorgeous hair. What beautiful lips. What adorably chubby cheeks. Fathers ignore their own newborn children in favor of that tiny, perfect baby. Mothers toddle to the glass and pressed tired faces against it, crying for their poor fortune.

How much better a life would be if that was their child? The nurse that delivered him was amazed when she first held him in her arms. His skin was creamy and white, not that molted, pink every other baby. baby sported. At first she thought he was dead. His eyes shut and his dark brown curls matted against his skull. As soon as she held him, however, she knew he was just fine. He opened his eyes and looked at her with all of the intelligence of an adult, breathing calmly and wrapping his tiny infant fingers around a loose strand of her thin blonde hair. He never once cried. He never once cried, and his mother worried from her bed, sitting up and crying out at the nurse that so lovingly

cradled her child. My baby! What's wrong with him? Her voice was weak, and her eyes fluttered as she exhaustively fumbled at the bedsheets she was swaddled in. The nurse glared at her over this perfect babe's head and snapped at the woman. There was nothing wrong with the child. and there never would be. Reluctantly, the nurse snipped the child's umbilical cord and set him

gently in the nursery, lovingly kissing his head and promising that she would come back for him. Late that night, the nurse quietly tiptoed back into the mother's room. A hospital-issued pillow clutched calmly in her hands. She smothered the mother silently and cleanly, with no one the wiser. the child would be hers no matter what she had to do for it. She would kill a thousand women to get her hands on that lovely little boy. Swiftly, she crept back into the nursery, bending over the tiny crib that held her angel. Cruning, she told the baby boy stories of how she would love him as he grew, and how well taken care of he would be.

The nurse didn't even hear the man's side. into the nursery behind her. A scalpel held firmly in his left hand. She didn't even feel the cold steel sliced delicately around her slender throat. She didn't feel the two sides of her skin part cleanly, when so gently coaxed by the clean blade. Nor did she feel the slick gush of blood out of her throat as she happily died, her fingertips gently caressing the perfect child's gorgeous face. Even in the last throes of death, the man who had so proficiently murdered the nurse stepped over her dying body. A look of absolute adoration plastered on his face.

Without a word, he picked the child up into his arms and stole out of the hospital. Behind him, every nurse and doctor in the maternity ward went insane looking for him. It was a serene summer's night outside, warm enough for the man. to carry the child back to his apartment, leaving his car and his very pregnant wife back at the hospital he had so deftly escaped from. When he arrived back at his apartment, he did not sleep. Instead he sat the tiny beautiful boy on his bed and watched him. For fourteen days he watched the child, only moving to feed it and bathe it and give it all

of the care it needed and more. The baby was the center of his universe. Soon his wife came home with a mouthful of angry words to toss at her neglectful husband and a tiny babe of her own to care for. You left me alone at a hospital to have a baby all on my own? Not a word from you. I thought you were dead, Adam. She threw her purse ferociously at her husband, who had yet to even look at her. The baby in the stroller she had been.

so lovingly attentive to before opening the door was left back at the entrance to the apartment. The child inside it awoken by its mother's piercing shrieks. When the mother walked up to kick the man, she so suddenly and violently despised, she laid eyes on the most perfect child she had ever seen. It was a tiny, glowing white child with huge black eyes and the most flawless dark curls on the face of the earth. Without hesitation, she leapt toward her weakened, starved husband, and choked the last bits of life out of him. Desperate to lay her lips against the child, watching as his face turned increasingly blue and frantic the tighter she pulled her longing fingers around his neck.

Moments later, she was on the bed, wrapped as tightly around the darling baby as she should be without harming it. She drank in its warmth, ignoring the increasingly distressed cries of her own child. Soon, irritated beyond belief by her own incredibly flawed child's cries of affection, she took her aggression her aggression out on it, leaping from the bed as quickly as she could, not wanting to be away from the vision of beauty, sleeping serenely on her bed for too long. She picked her child up with one hand. slamming it fiercely against the wall of the apartment until its head was a mashed mess of blood, bone and brain bubbling out, dirtying her hands.

The police came knocking on the apartment door not too much longer. Terrified by the vicious noise in the apartment beside them, the family next door had dialed 911, reporting domestic abuse. Cautiously, hands on the guns that rested at their hips. Two policemen entered the apartment. Upon entering their noses were assaulted by several awful smells. Rocked, death, and the smell of someone who had been sitting in their own filth for two weeks wafted through the air of the stuffy apartment.

It didn't take long for the officers to see the destruction that had occurred in this place. The gaunt, dead husband dragged half-heartedly into the hallway, his hair matted with blood. The younger officer swayed on his feet, threatening to faint. Listen, Trudeau, sir, I have a pregnant wife at home. I can't do this. I can't get killed in here. His plea was quiet and despondent, but the elder officers simply waved the man forward. They could hear cooling in the bedroom down the hall and stepping over the dead man that lay at the entrance. entered the open door of the room. Immediately upon entering the elder officer bent down and vomited,

the scene that met his eyes too much for even someone as experienced as him to handle. Blood was smeared on the wall where a dead baby, lying there, on the floor, its face of smashed mess, had been mercilessly beaten. On the bed was a chubby woman. Obviously the woman who had born and murdered the baby. cradled in her arms, pressed firmly against a swollen breast, was a naked, rotten baby. Its skin blew and its mouth puffed up with death. She whispered to it sweetly, the most contented look on her face.

The younger officer, however, was calm. It was clear what he must do. The woman held an angel, and he wanted it. Such a perfect child had never existed. The decision was easy to make. Pulling his gun quickly, he shot the woman once in the head, the lighting in the explosion of gorgeous crimson that fanned out behind her. The younger man's companion turned, a look of confusion on his face.

Immediately he was met with two bullets to the left eye. Smiling, the younger man watched his friend slide back against the already bloodied wall behind him. The baby would be his, and no one would stop him from taking it now. 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.

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