Creepy - Day 12 - The Last Trick & Aunt Kathy Was Right

Episode Date: October 12, 2025

The Last Trick***Written by: Johnzy Zombee and Narrated by: Nichole Goodnight***Aunt Kathy Was Right***Written by: Isaac Floyd***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 12. 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. Good afternoon, Nicole. That's nice to see you again.

Hi, Dr. Hall. How are you doing this week? I'm doing okay, but I'm kind of getting homesick. That's a good sign. Hom sickness often signals emotional progress. However, going home now, would disrupt your neural stabilization. Are you saying I can't leave?

You agreed to a monitor treatment protocol. Yes, it was done voluntarily. But medically, I advise you to continue. Discharge isn't recommended yet. I tried calling my fiancé yesterday. The phone said the line was restricted. To reduce overstimulation, We've temporarily limited outside contact.

It's essential for repairing your circadian rhythm. You have nothing to worry about. You are completely safe here. Then why does it feel like I'm being kept here? Because part of you is still resisting rest. And that part doesn't trust peace yet. It's best that we move forward with the therapies. Why don't we start with your dreams

from last night. Okay, I guess that makes sense. Last night I dreamed about the last trick. Miriam? I shouted from my bedroom, the mask halfway strangling my face. Down as soon as I can squeeze this stupid thing on? Miriam's reply came back, but it was too soft,

too muffled, like it had to sneak past something first. Okay, I muttered. There I was. A single white, 30-year-old female cramming myself into a unisex Dracula costume like I had lost a bet with a jackal antonerne. I tapped it off with a Frankenstein mask because clearly my self-esteem was somewhere in the tool shut out back. In the mirror, I looked like Boris Karloff was giving Bella Lugosi a piggyback ride to hell.

It was a last-minute panic by. My options were this or a two-sizes-two-small milk cart in costume. Halloween night. Desperate times. My job was to supervise my little sister, Miriam. eight years old in running the show like she was queen of the dead. She'd gone full vampire bride this year, flowing black dress, face paint, the whole hammer horror aesthetic. She carried two pumpkin buckets, three liters each.

That's at least 24 cups of candy. She was hardcore, end of. And Miriam? She had a plan for everything, including the trick part of trick-or-treat. Some drugs like to test kids make them perform Miriam was prepared. Her go-to? Pick a number between one and ten, but don't pick seven. Then she'd do her little tilt move, knock some candy out, act distracted.

By the time the adult rebooted their brain, they'd say, seven. Every time. It was like hypnotism meets con artistry. You couldn't make it up. Okay, maybe you could. Give it a try. By 5 p.m. I was ready to head out. I called for Miriam.

No response. I checked her bedroom, then the upper hallway, then every room in the house. No pumpkin bucket. no flouncy vampire gown, no Miriam. Outside, Trickertuters laughed and shuffled past and sugar-fueled mobs. Fireworks popped like little warheads. I called her again. Miriam?

Nothing. The doorbell rang. Chatter buzzed just behind the glass. A plastic pitchfork tapped the window like a polite devil trying to make a point. I ignored it. Moved through the kitchen, flipped on the porch light, opened the back door. Another burst of fireworks bloomed above the garden. Reds and greens, flames withering down?

No Miriam. I stepped back inside, locked the door. Miriam? My voice went sharp. This isn't funny. Keep this up and we're staying in. I'll put on horror movies until you pass out. The hallway mirror caught me again.

Boris Karloff's head on Dracula's body. Jesus, I looked like someone's midlife crisis. The doorbell went off again, then pounding. A horde of pint-sized sighted. out there. Miriam? My brain clicked into panic mode. No way she'd left. I didn't hear the door. I didn't hear a window. I checked every room again. Still no Miriam. Still no buckets. No trace. The doorbell screamed over and over like a busted baritone. I opened the front door and threw a bowl of monkey nuts into the mob, then slammed it shut. Miriam? I yelled. If this is your trick,

congratulations. It's officially too much. You win. Just say something. something. Silence. Apart from the chaos outside, the house had that creepy stillness, like it had bricked itself shut from the inside. I paced, again, checked all the rooms downstairs. No pumpkin buckets, no vampire gown, no Miriam. I bolted upstairs, same thing, no sign of Miriam, no smell of her lavender shampoo, no sign she'd ever existed. Back in the upper hall, the latex mask squeezed my skull. I tore it off and sweat dripped into my eyes. I looked left and right like I expected to see traffic.

Nothing. Not even a micro sound. And that's when I started to really worry. Miriam? I rasped. My voice was chewed up. This was pointless. She wasn't answering because she wasn't here.

Or worse, she was just not in a way I understood. I did another lap, upstairs, downstairs, occasionally answering the door just to chuck candy into the clown. and pitchwork mob. Sometimes I tossed monkey nuts just to get rid of them. Eventually I stood in the hallway, the last bowl, the one full of tootsie rolls, heavy in my hand. Okay, Miriam, I said. Do you want me to pick a number between one and ten?

Silence. Pin drop silence. Fine, I'll say it out loud. And maybe then you'll come out. Nothing. Just the hum of the house, the war zone of fireworks in the background. I know you're tricking me, I said. You're not planting the seven this time, are you?

I turned circles through the downstairs rooms. If you don't admit you're hiding the seven, I'm going to assume you're cheating. And if you're cheating, we're done. Game over. My tone softened. I'm not mad. I just want to understand. Are you planting the seven? Silence.

Not even a peep of nothing. I've returned to the main hallway. If you admit it, you can have the final bowl of candy. That's your prize. Clean trade? I don't even care if you were cheating. Still, nothing. And that's how I knew.

Miriam wouldn't have held out this long. She lived for Halloween night. She lived for candy even more. She was missing out. Something was wrong. Miriam? I said quietly. I'm counting down from ten.

If you don't come out, no trick or treating, just horror movies until you pass out. A pause. then, and I'll eat all of the popcorn in the house. Our popcorn maker was vintage chrome, straight from a 1950s diner. I started it up and listened to the colonel's word to life, then explode one by one. The smell of salt and fake butter filled the kitchen. Then the doorbell rang again.

I went to answer it. Miriam had her chance. The final bowl was sitting right there on the table, and it was going straight into the hands of whatever ghost or demon awaited. Tiny arms wrapped around me. Something bit into my neck. I twisted, flailed, screamed, saw my reflection in the mirror just me. Me and blood sprang like a garden hose. And then I smelled it.

Lavender shampoo. Miriam! Then I felt it. Tiny vampire bride legs locked around my waist. My eyes rolled and I hit the floor. I could only watch my blood spill across laminated wood. When the change hit, it wasn't sharp. It wasn't painful.

It was velvet, smooth and smothering. like being wrapped in cashmere by something with ill intent. My heartbeat vanished. My fingers went numb. The world got loud and quiet all at once. Colors sharpened, shadows pulled back their veils. I wasn't human anymore. I was awake.

I looked up. Miriam stood over me, face pale as bone, mouth painted with my blood. Her eyes were voids. Miriam smiled slow and opium sweet, and I smiled back because that's what we do now. The doorbell rang. Ding-dong.

I rose to my feet. Miriam's fingers slid into mine. Cold as wet stone. We held hands like corpses at our own funeral. They were behind the door. Dozens of sugared up ghouls, goblins, superheroes, and skeletons. Their blood sang. I could hear it.

Thumping like giddy drums. I could feel it. Crimson rivers pumping from all that candy. I'd never heard anything that. this clearly before, like my ears had finally turned to the right frequency. I opened the door. Miriam's grip tightened. Trick or treat, they chimed. They giggled. So did we. Thank you for trusting in the process, Nicole. Trust me, it might not feel like it, but what you are doing here is incredibly important. Okay, doctor, I'll try my best.

I would appreciate that. And feel free to share what we talked about with any of the others in case they are feeling the same way. Do you think you could do that for me? Yeah, I guess I can do that. Thank you, Nicole. Have a wonderful day. Hello? Is someone there?

Who are you? Fuck you. How long have I been in here? I'm not telling you anything. Then I guess it's one more week of isolation. Wait, what? A week? Stuck in here?

I don't get it. You just want me to talk about my dream? What is this place? Fine, fine. I dreamed about how Aunt Kathy was right. They say, all hollows Eve is when the veil between our world and another is a dentist. That there's some invisible. protective barrier that prevents ghosts and ghouls from entering our world and disemboweling or

eating us. On this night, they say those ghosts and ghouls enter through the veil and walk among us, lurking, hunting for their prey. So we dress up like ghastly things and terrorize our neighbors, prowling for our own sugary victims to eat. Candy's gotten worse tasting lately, don't you think? Anyway, we try to blend in with these creatures that slip through a crack into our world so they think we're one of them and leave us alone. It's funny, though. Most of us avoid our fear any given day in our lives, but most of the nation takes this night to celebrate it.

Maybe it's like an outlet. It feels less real than everyday fear. That kind that always lingers, and we hate being reminded of. I wonder how much all the stores make from people buying decorations, costumes, and candy. Some people go all out. My aunt, Kathy, spent two grand decorating her house one year. Sorry, just the inside of her house. She was too embarrassed to say how much she spent on the outside.

But I saw a picture she posted on Facebook. I would have preferred to spend that kind of dough on updating all my home appliances. She bought hundreds of full. size candy bars, so you can imagine how much she cried when she got less than ten trick-or-treaters. I chopped up to bad weather and Halloween being on a school night that year, and the fact that she doesn't live in a kid-friendly neighborhood might have had something to do with it. If someone had burglarized her, she would have taken it as a compliment. Aunt Kathy is the kind of lady who is too quirky for men. That's why she doesn't have a boyfriend.

or at least what she'll inevitably be telling Grandma Thanksgiving again. She prefers the company of her many cats. Aunt Kathy is the reason I'm handing out candy this year. I prefer to turn off the lights and hunker down watching the classic horror films. Dracula, Frankenstein, the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Only one time because my friend suggested it. But Aunt Kathy wanted me to celebrate the way she celebrated. Her eyes lit up when she offered.

for to give me decorations from my yard. I declined at first, but she insisted it would not be an issue as she had an extensive amount of decorations anyway. Plastic spiders and bats, fake skeletons and zombies. She had a huge box full of cobwebs, innuendo intended. I felt bad for her and didn't want to see how hurt she might have been if I declined or hand me down pained eyeballs. I reluctantly agreed, faking my enthusiasm and she aren't.

and her excitement. She came over to help me set up and decorate, and we went to the local convenience store to buy a couple of regular-sized candy bars like a normal person. Once we finished putting up all the decorations in their place, Aunt Kathy's face turned serious. Confused by this, I gave her a look that implied

she could tell me what was wrong. She noticed and stared intently at me for a while. She opened her mouth as if to speak but held her expression for longer than a year. usual before muttering, Halloween's only a few days away now. I chuckled at her solemnness, thinking she was making a joke. She glared at me like she was saying, how dare you laugh at that? She said, this one will be different.

I assumed she was talking about the number of trick-or-treaters she would get this year. I told her that I hoped so, and as I did, I felt an inkling of regret somewhere deep inside me. Over the next couple of days, I couldn't get that interaction with Aunt Kathy off my mind. Why was she so serious? What did she mean this one will be different? But the question that nod at me the most was, why am I afraid to know the answers? I could have easily brushed it off.

Aunt Kathy was weird. So it wasn't unusual for to act unusual. It lingered in the back of my mind. and when I went outside and saw all the decorations she helped me put up, I noticed one of the toy skeletons had fallen over. It was slumped up against the wall with a splash of fake blood behind it. I left it there like that, unlike how Kathy had so meticulously placed it.

My own authentic touch, October 31st. The sun was lowering and there was a peaceful orange glow about it. A slight breeze brought a chill down my spine. It was still warm for an autumn evening. Someone might confuse it for a day in early spring if it weren't for the red and amber canopy and the brown leaves rustling about the asphalt road. I turned down the decorations lights and hues of red and purple colored my yard and front door. Time for Halloween, I told myself, taking a sigh of preparation like I was giving myself a pep talk.

I saw the first of the trick-or-treaters beginning down the long stretch of road, so I headed back inside, put on creature from the Black Lagoon, and waited for the chime of the doorbell. I remembered Aunt Kathy for a moment as the opening of the movie played. And then the first of the night arrived. Ding dong. With a bowl of candy, I opened the door and met a young father and his two children. There was a little girl dressed as a princess.

I didn't know if she was anyone specific, but she had a tiara on fairy wings and a bedazzled star-shaped wand. The dad was carrying his infant, child dressed as a policeman. The oversized sunglasses and a patrol cap were slipping off his head and face. Cute. Trick or treat. I smiled and gave the young girl a handful of candy first.

And another handful for the plastic bag the father was carrying for his infant son. Thank you! The young Princess Fairy yelled excitedly. Her eyes peering into her pumpkin-shaped purse trying to see what kind of candy I gave her. My smile turned from politeness to genuine amusement. and I said, Happy Halloween, before closing the door and getting back to the movie.

Okay, I thought to myself. That wasn't so bad. It was actually kind of nice. At this point in the movie, the researchers were making a way upstream on the river when my doorbell rang again. Laughter and childish screams drowned out the TV. I opened the door with a bowl of candy in my hand.

I found a group of four young children waiting for me on the other side of the door. Trick-or-treat, they said in unison. Then I was impressed. They must have practiced. I looked at the bottom of my driveway and saw their parents. Three young boys were dressed up as Power Rangers, and the girl was wearing all black with cattyers and a nose and whiskers painted on her face.

I gave them each a handful of candy. The boys skipped down the driveway, searching their bags to see what goodies I gave them. The girl stood there for a moment longer and said thank you. I gave her a couple more pieces from the bowl for being polite. Then closed the door. Before I could even make it back to the couch, the doorbell rang again. When I answered, there were two older kids.

Judging by their height, I'd say a junior high. One was dressed as a scarecrow. Straw poked out from the holes of the flannel shirt, and the mask's mouth was stitched shut. The other was dressed in a black robe with a scream mask. He was holding a plastic knife with fake blood splattered on it. Trick or treat, the scarecrow said, not nearly as enthusiastic as the previous. groups and adjusted his mask like it became uncomfortable to wear after speaking.

I gave them extra candy for having cool costumes. I heard a scream coming from the movie. It was loud and sounded as if a real person was crying bloody murder inside my house. Like it wasn't coming from my TV speakers. Instinctively, I turned around and confirmed that it was, in fact, coming from the TV. I'd seen the movie before, but I didn't remember this part. When I turned my attention back to the front door, the pair were walking down the driveway. You're welcome, I thought, even though I didn't hear a thank you.

A lone trick-or-treater was making their way up, bumping into the scarecrow, but never turning his head to see what he just ran into. He was a bit taller than the scarecrow and the screen guy. He was getting dark quickly now, so I couldn't make out his costume until he was basically standing in the doorway. He looked like a burn victim. pink and flesh-colored scars with bits of black char around the bigger wounds. He was only wearing white linen pants that were stained pink and yellow. No shoes, no shirt. He must have spent hours on makeup or gotten it professionally done.

It looked real. Maybe too real. He had those contact lenses that made his eyes look bloodshot and yellow. He even smelled like smoke. Wow. Wow, awesome costume. Who are you supposed to be? He stood there just staring at me, not responding.

Odd. I grabbed a huge handful of candy as I presumed it would be the best costume with the night. I expected to look up to find him holding his candy bag out. He wasn't. Wait, he didn't even have a candy bag. He just stood there hunched over and staring at me. I gestured for him to take the handful of candy, and that's when he broke eye contact with me and looked at the heaps of candy I was holding out for him.

He brought his hands to his face like he was inspecting them, and then, almost as if he was remembering how to, put both his hands together like a bowl. Either he was committed to the bit or a fucking creep. I put some candy in his hand, let out a nervous chuckle, and said, Happy Halloween! and closed the door. I waited for a second and peeked out the little side light window. His stuttering gate down my driveway made me cringe,

and he dropped a bunch of candy all over my driveway. Asshole. I went back to the couch and turned the volume down on the TV. How had I missed so much of the movie answering the door? What, four times? What time even was it? I felt my empty pockets and figured my phone must have fallen somewhere in the couch cushions. I got up to look for it and the doorbell rang. Giving up my search to attend to what I

hoped was another cute family trick-or-treating for the first time. I made my way back over to the door and it rang once more. Ding dong. Bing dong. I wanted to yell coming in an annoyed voice, but I was basically already at the door. When I opened it, I tilted my head downward to see two toddlers? They were between two and three feet tall. One had a red devil mask on. The kind with a cliche, sharp black pointed eyebrows and with a mustache and goatee.

He was holding a dog leash in his hand. The other was wearing one of those full head baby masks with a single tooth in the mouth slot and a swirl of hair on top of the head. He was wearing the collar. I looked at the end of the driveway to see what kind of parents would send two toddlers and nothing but Halloween masks and diapers trick-or-treating. No one.

The street from what I could see from my doorway was empty too. When the absolute fuck was this? Before my brain could process what was going on, a devil mask turned and as if he had just learned a walk, waddled away. He tugged on a leash and the baby-masked one stumbled to the side and followed suit. No, seriously. What the...

Click. The TV turned off. I looked back down the driveway and hopes of some answers for what I just witnessed and was jump-scared when I saw Aunt Kathy standing in the doorway. Shit, Kathy? You scared me. I held my chest, even though I felt my heart beating in my throat. She said nothing.

Did you see two? I froze. I looked into Aunt Kathy's eyes. They weren't hers. Her face seemed flat, like it didn't fit her head properly. I leaned in to look closer and noticed that the skin around her eyes was pitch black. Not around. Underneath Aunt Kathy's skin was rubbery pitch black skin.

That wasn't Kathy. That was something wearing, Aunt Kathy. The moment I realized this, flesh twisted and an awful skin. smile and made a sickening wet noise. A long pointed tongue came through her cherry-painted lips and licked around her nostrils. I took a step back. My heart was pounding. My skin burned from the fear surfacing from deep within. The thing that was not, Kathy stepped through the doorway like it sensed my fear and closed the door without looking away from me. The silhouette of Aunt Kathy's skin falling to the ground and the skinny limp beast was the last thing I saw.

In the darkness, a voice said, nice costume. I heard heavy and fast footsteps sprinting at me. Ding dong. Now what? What do you mean? Well, I told you about my dream, so you let me out of here, right? Wait. What the... The subject's instinctual reactions toward both self-preservation and predictability with verbal stimuli has proven consistent. I believe we are ready to move on to phase two. 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.

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