Creepy - Day 13 - The Adorcist & You're Right

Episode Date: October 13, 2022

The Adorcist***Written by: Rod1mu5***You're Right***Written by: Sum Gigh***Content warning: gaslighting, anxiety***Check out our reward tiers at patreon.com/creepypod***Sound Design by Pacific Obadiah***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.

Welcome to the bloody disgusting network. No. This is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepypastas 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 biocations of biocations. Silence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised.

Creepy presents. The 31 Days of Horror. Day 13. The Adercest. Written by Rodamus. Just a sprinkle more of nutmeg, a generous dusting of cinnamon, and a few other choice spices.

And my pumpkin seeds were ready to go into the oven for roasting. The recipe I use for the street doesn't use exact measurements, nor does anything I cook, really. I should know within a few minutes if I'll need to add anything else. I was taught from a young age to go with what feels right when I cook, and to let my nose take me the rest of the way. That's one of many lessons my mamma taught me. She always said that cooking should be something to enjoy,

and anything done with enjoyment shouldn't be saddled with rules or boundaries. Things that require any precision or guidelines are always serious matters. Cooking is not one of them. My family will love having these once they get home from trick-or-treating. I grab a beer and prepare to sit at the table, but I'm halted mid-drop by the doorbell. I sit my beer down and walk to the door, grabbing the candy bowl from the counter on my way. I open the door to a collective high-pitched, trick-or-treat from a small, group of children eagerly waiting for what would likely be their last stop for Halloween

treasure. There were a few obligatory superheroes, a vampire, something dressed like a banana wearing a tuxedo. But the cutest of all was a set of three coordinating an adorable rendition of the Sanderson sisters from Hocus Pocus. My kids, if I might add. Our family's tradition always has the kids make our own house the last stop for the night. My oldest is beaming, with their triumphant return, as this is the first year she's

old enough to take her sisters out on their own. The fact that I have a security feed I tap into periodically to monitor their position gave the final push for my agreement at this new responsibility. Being the captain of our street's neighborhood watch has its perks. I give double handfuls to every one of the trick-or-treaters, hoping to unload what I have left to avoid bad decisions on my part in the dark hours of the night. As the kids are leaving my porch and running back to the street, I notice in the group of parents standing at the street's edge and abnormally tall figure standing just inside the shadows behind the others.

The figure doesn't appear familiar, as I'm pretty well acquainted with everyone in our neighborhood. I'd seen this person a couple of times throughout the night, but I was never able to get a very good look on their face to make a positive ID. Perhaps this was a parent from another neighborhood who brought their kids here to try and see if our community might be a better hunting spot for Halloween treats. My focus is pulled away by my kids bombarding me with their complaints of how this was not the best Halloween ever as they rushed inside. As I look back up, I noticed that the figure is gone.

I searched the dispersing crowd, but to no avail. the darkness of the night swallowing the last revelers in its dark maw. I shrug my shoulders and go back inside, closing and locking the door behind me. I walk back to the kitchen, inhaling the warm scent of roasting spiced pumpkin seeds. I inhale with a smile. Just right. They unload their sparse hoard under the kitchen table, regaling me with descriptions of the best decorations and spookiest costumes.

I'm only partially listening. Lost in thought and unable to shake this feeling of unease I had since seeing the figure standing in the street. Something my daughter mentions snaps my attention back. She tells me the reason they got such a little amount of candy was because throughout the night, they would begin to approach houses only for their lights to flicker and cut off as they were making their way to the door. Assuming the homeowner was done giving out for the night, they would return to the street, dejected about being denied the fruits of their labor time and again.

This knowledge serves to incense my unease even more. That's pretty weird, I say. Fortunately, though, smells like the pumpkin seeds are ready if that helps to take the sting out. This leads to collective cheers from the girls, their woes disappearing with excitement about a treat, which, in their opinion, is even better than candy. Something about being cheered and applauded by children always makes me feel like the real MVP.

I grab my beer off the table and go to my craft's room, leaving them to enjoy their seeds. Their lifted spirits quell my apprehension a bit. But I need to put my hands to work in order to make the rest of it dissipate. After a giant bowl of roasted pumpkin seeds and more pop than I should have allowed, my kids are ready to crash. my tool is dragging their feet up the stairs with barely a discernible grumble while I carry my youngest to bed. After I finished tucking her in, I stepped back into the hallway and notice a slight shift in the curtains covering the hallway window. A breeze carrying in the biting chill from the dark autumn night. My brow furrows and puzzlement.

I walk over and see that the window was slightly cracked. I closed the window and locked it. and looked out the window into the yard with a shutter. I see nothing out of the ordinary. I must have not closed it all the way after I was on cleaning earlier, I think. I walked downstairs to my craft's room to continue working on a project. A short time later, as I'm working. The lights flicker slightly.

I look up at the bulb and see it pulsing slightly. I chuckle, thinking to myself, that it's a perfectly mundane occurrence made creepy by Halloween. A few minutes later, the lights flicker again and then go out entirely. This makes me a little more concerned. I leave my craft's room, making my way through the dark house to the storage closet to check my breakers. As I cross the living room, my nose is assaulted by a horrendous smell. I immediately have to fight back.

Looking around the room for the source of the smell, my eyes sweep to the upstairs hall, and I stop in my tracks. A tall figure is moving silently down the hallways of gliding instead of walking. It's inching towards my oldest daughter's room. As it reaches her door, it shimmers, appearing like a coalescing dark spot. Even darker than the shadows surrounding it, black as pitch. It solidifies for a moment.

Its pale head seeming to glow in the darkness. It then moves away from her door further. down to the room my two youngest daughters share. It nearly dissipates in front of their door as well, the sight threatening to make me sick. Swallowing my nausea, I do the first thing that comes to mind to grab its attention and get it away from my girls. I purse my lips into a tight O, and not it'll quiet but shrill whistle. It stops and snaps its head toward me with viper-like speed. Before I can react further, it melts into the shadows of the dark house and appears to three feet before me, crossing the distance in less than a second. I bolt from my craft's room,

leading the beast as far from the kids as I can get it. I glance back to see it gliding towards me as ever-increasing speed. Like an animal, it's giving chase for prey, a smile stretching across its visage. I run into my craft's room and grab the first thing I can get my hands on, a clay figurine I had been painting. As a creature enters in on my heels, I throw the figurine. I throw the figurine. I throw the figurine on the ground smashing it, and a ball of ameth-colored flames explodes from its destruction. The flame temporarily making room glow a violet hue. As the flames disappear, I stand up straight and let out a decompressing breath. My tense muscles relaxing like a stretched rubber band being slowly returned to its usual elasticity. I snap my fingers, and several candles around the room

come to life with the same purple flame. I'm finally able to get a good look at the intruder. The figure is inhumanly tall, its arms disproportionately long compared to the rest of its body. Its skin is a pale color, white like a maggot. It's wearing a black suit, contrasting greatly to the pale color of its flesh. The most unsettling part of it is its head. It's hairless, with no.

eyes and a smile, too wide for its head that displays too many rows of jagued teeth. It stands stocked still just inside the doorway, looking like the most hideous statue that could only be conceived by a mind damned to hell. I lean back against my desk, crossing my arms across my chest. I'm sure you don't know why you can't move. A creature such as yourself probably doesn't even have a concept of being trapped. So used to being a predator, not the prey, I croon. I bend down and pick up the shattered pieces of the figurine and hold it up in my hands. See this?

It's a mannequin I made after a conversation I had with my daughters earlier tonight. By forming it with just the right touch of magic and few choice herbs, I create a totem that forms a link. A very powerful link, which forms around your body. Once a mankin is destroyed, the link snaps into place, and voila, you'll find yourself bound up tighter than the spine of a fresh hardback. I walk back and forth shaking the broken pieces in my hand like a set of dice. You see, my mama was a very peculiar woman. She came here from Ireland after World War I with her family looking for new opportunities.

Opportunities that didn't include having to live in constant vigil so the things that go bump in the night didn't have to be a constant concern. America is a melting pot. Culture from all over the globe had already been migrating here. And following them was all manner of creature and beasts that haunted their stories and lore. In addition to those, America already had a bestiary full of its own nasties. So, Mama did the only thing she could. and that was to study and to learn. Cataloging and learning everything she could,

she became a shield for her community and her family. She had a great gift for the working of the craft. Just like her mother and her mother's mother, all the way back down the line to time immemorial. My parents died when I was very young. So Mama took me in and raised me. She taught me everything she knew and upon her death. gifted me these.

I walk around my desk and left an ancient leather-bound volume sitting next to an innocuous old wooden box. Her book of shadows has been with me many years, and it has proven invaluable in keeping the darkness at bay in my little corner of the world. I sit the book back down and slide the wooden box to the front of the desk. Experience has told me that with beasties such as yourself, The only time you're seen is to create fear that marinate's in the victim you plan to consume later.

If you had no intentions for my family, we would not have seen you tonight. I hold a hand up in a mock gesture of rebuttal. I know this creature can't speak, but at this point I'm just having a little fun. Yes, my girls did see you tonight. In fact, every time you caused the lights to go out when they were approaching some, someone's house on the way back to the street. My oldest daughter saw you in her peripheral vision. She has gifts of her own manifesting.

I saw you as well on my security cameras. Things such as yourself are the main reason I chose to start a neighborhood watch around here. I walk forward and look at the thing's frozen face, examining its massive teeth. I've always wondered if the smile, You slender creatures are so known for as an expression or just standard physiology. I shrugged my shoulders. Eh, who knows?

I walk back to my desk, smiling at the worn wooden case sitting upon it. Care to know why you couldn't enter my children's rooms? It's an old family recipe, believe it or not. With the right combination of a few herbs and spices, vervane, nutmeg, sage, mint, etc. You can completely shield someone from evil attacks or influences, essentially turning them into a living evil eye, very handy as a repellent.

I open the lid of the old box and remove a shimmering, obsidian, athame from the plush velvet-lined interior, as well as a vial. I turn back to my captive. Have you ever heard of it? of an exorcist. I'm sure you have.

They use prayer to remove unwanted and uninvited spirits from people's bodies. Forcibly. Well, I'm the opposite of that. I'm an adorcist. Well, I'm technically a witch. But

Adericist categorizes me a little bit further. An aderis takes the essence of spirits or demons and places them within people. The people will then absorb them and take their power or abilities. It's a very useful magic if you can overpower the spirit. The contents of Mamma's book deals mostly with binding and banishing

or supernatural creatures are concerned. But I took that knowledge a little bit further. The creature stands stoically in place, showing no signs of fear or comprehension of anything I was saying. Not that it would have changed what was about to happen to it at any rate. How better to protect my family. than taking power away from those who would hurt them and turn it back against them. Become a monster that the monsters fear, so to speak.

Genius, am I right? I run my finger along my athium coating its edge with my blood, but I've prattled on long enough. Let's begin, shall we? I grabbed the vial and walk quickly over to the slender creature, and in one swift motion I slice cleanly over. across its throat. Black, tar-like blood begins to leak from the wound and I begin chanting in a language of my ancestors that my mamma taught me. I placed the vial under the stream of

pitch-colored liquid, filling my vial with the speed of pouring molasses. After a few minutes, my vial is full, and I step back from the frozen bleeding mess. I chant my final word of power and the blood in the vial transforms into a thick ebony mist. I inhale the substance into my nose, closing my eyes and breathing deeply. The mist smells like a swamp filled with burning trash. I fight back my revulsion and open my eyes. I take a deep breath and smile at my query, my eyes shining like hematite. Thank you so much for your generous donation.

I can assure you that it won't go to waste. I walk forward and I use my blade to dig out three of the creature's teeth. Never know when these may come in handy. I placed the Athamian vial back in their case and turned to the monster that had the audacity to invade my home. You made a fatal mistake coming into this neighborhood tonight. You furthered that mistake by coming after my home. girls, but I can assure you no one in this house will ever be a victim. That's the issue with things like you. You always assume that you're at the top of the food chain

and because of that, you walk so obliviously into the jaws of something whose power dwarfs your own. You are not the first abomination I've crossed Paswath. Oh no, and you certainly won't be the last. With a final word spoken, I grasped the mannequin and my hands engulf it in deep purple flames. The creature ignites in kind, its body instantly charring

as it's engulfed in which flame. The room is filled with the smell of burning flesh. The link between the creature and the mannequin evaporates and it crumbles to the floor in a heap. It smokes and sizzles like oil in a frying pan. I walked to the bookcase against the wall and open another less-worn box. I tossed the teeth inside amongst a few other various types of teeth, a few clumps of hair, and an array of other mementos I've collected over the years.

I open the incense box next to it and remove a smudge stick made of dried sage and rosemary. I light a match and set it aflame. I blow the fire out and circle the room, filling me with pungent, herbal smoke. This will cleanse the space and hopefully get the smell out. I lay the smudstick in a bowl on my desk to burn out. I look down at the mess on my floor with a sigh, while being able to move instantly through the shadows will be useful, not to mention pretty cool too.

Getting rid of this body is going to be one huge pain in the ass. For your bonus episode, Creepy presents You're right Written by some guy And narrated by Owen McCune When it comes down to it The scariest thing imaginable

Is that you're actually right About what you're thinking Call it being a pessimist Or a realist Or whatever helps you sleep at night But you don't actually want to be right About the things you're thinking Do you?

Well, I just wanted to take a moment to let you know. You're right. When you woke up this morning and felt like there was something you were forgetting, you were right. You did forget. How could you forget? How could you be so thoughtless? And it happens all the time.

How can you be so self-centered that it just wasn't important enough for you to keep track of? honestly it's pretty sad oh that email you just got from your boss the one that says they want to have a quick chat you're right it's as bad as you think it is it's not a quick chat they know what you've been doing they know that you aren't producing as much as you claim to be they know that you take every advantage to avoid working and only do enough to not get fired except that you just aren't worth the trouble. They're going to hire a kid out of college for less than you're making, and you will be let go. In fact, they're going to fire you for whatever reason they can think of so you don't qualify for

unemployment. Maybe you should have spent all that time you wasted on a plan for how you were going to survive in this job market. You're right. you shouldn't have let your kid go to the park alone. Yes, I know they said they were going to meet a friend there. That was true. But you knew better, didn't you?

It felt strange just watching them bike off, but they aren't babies anymore. I mean, at some point, you just have to let kids be kids, right? Like when you were a kid. You'd bike off to the park or a friend's house, and you didn't have a cell phone. Hell, you didn't even know your friend's parents' first name. And look, you turned out fine. Of course, things seem to have gotten a lot worse than when you were a kid. On the news, adults are getting pulled off the streets in broad daylight.

It seems like stories about stalkers are everywhere. And besides, it's been a long day. You're tired. You told yourself there wouldn't be that many more days to go to the park before it's too cold and winter is officially here. Let kids be kids. That said, none of that will save the child you'll never see again. In fact, even if you leave right now, it's too late. You'll never see them again.

Yes, you'll cry, you'll pray, depending on the color of your skin and how much money you make, you might even be on the news. Or maybe you won't. Maybe no one will care. You and your family are a statistic, a footnote. All the while, your child is gone, and it's your fault. Their last days will be painful, and the rest of your life will be consumed with imagining that pain. You're right, you went too far last night.

Why did you do that? In the heat of the moment, you thought, why not? well you shouldn't have it was too much yeah thanks for getting hot and you convinced yourself that they would like this new side of you but you were wrong you were so wrong you ruined so much last night things will never be the same because neither of you is going to talk about what happened you'll pretend that it didn't happen and go back to the same old routine and it will be fine but you won't be able to look at them in the eyes because all you'll see is that look of betrayal. Why would you think that was something you should do? Because you saw it in a video and suddenly thought, yeah, that's a good idea. No, you'd never done anything like that, but they seem to enjoy it in that video. Except you never see what happens after those videos, do you?

What those lives are like when the camera is, off, the emptiness. But you'll start to understand now. Jesus fucking Christ, why would you do that? Why would you say that? You should be ashamed of yourself. Oh, and yes, the condom broke and you didn't even notice. Wait, no, that's not exactly accurate, is it?

You thought something happened, but didn't stop. Why? Because you're weak? Probably. Now imagine all the consequences you'll have to deal with for the rest of your life. Well, not that it really matters to them, because you're right. They are cheating on you. Why wouldn't they? Have you looked at yourself recently? Do you even try anymore? What? You thought love was going to keep them there? It's sad that you think they even love you. You don't even know what love is you never have.

It's just an idea, a concept to you. It's something you really wish you had, but you don't. They're only with you until they find something better than it's over. You aren't good enough and never will be. Yes, you're right. You did hear that noise in the other room. I know it's late and every other. Everyone's asleep and there's nothing to be worried about most of the time.

This time there is. Pretending like nothing's there is going to be the worst mistake you ever made. How can you be so worried about this exact thing happening and become such a child? Do you really think keeping your feet under the covers will keep the boogeyman away? The source of that noise doesn't give a fuck. about your covers, you will carry the stars of this both inside and outside for the rest of your cripplingly sad and shriveled life. Do I even need to say it at this point? I honestly can't believe you didn't look in your back seat. I don't care that you were scared and in a hurry. Do you even

understand the privilege that exists in a world where you can pretend the monsters aren't there? Crouched down just out of you waiting for you? Well, it's too late now. All you can do is keep on going, keep your eyes forward, keep pretending that everything is going to be all right. Oh, you wanted me to say that you're right, that everything will be all right? It isn't going to be all right. It's quite the opposite of all that.

But you are right about one thing. It's going to hurt. 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 license. or with written consent from the authors. No portion of this podcast may be rebroadcast

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