Creepy - Day 15 - Position Available

Episode Date: October 15, 2017

There's a job...***Narrated by Nichole Goodnight***Presented by: Drift & Ramble (https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/drift-ramble-podcast/id1126484216?mt=2)***Credited to: K.A. Statz (https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/the-white-vault/id1267043823)***Sound design by: Steve Blizin 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.

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 violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. Creepy presents the 31 Days of Horror. Day 15. Position available.

Written by listener K.A. Stats. Read by Nicole Goodnight. As it is commonly phrased, I work in corporate espionage. This at times means I procure otherwise classified information, or, if the high price is paid, a bit of sabotage. It is an accidental occupation, but one I have found I am very capable at, and the pay far exceeds anything else someone with my otherwise undocumented experience could get in the modern job market. I've only been found at once, so I no longer take work in Mexico.

My current job has placed me in Sweden, working for a construction company based out of the vast majority university city of Uppsala. Let's call them Company X. Living and working here for the past four months has been rather serene, though dark. I'm sorry I won't be here to experience the Swedish summer. I've heard great things. After months of work, both as a secretary within the target company, and in my more permanent profession, the grail I've searched for has come into my sights.

Company X, a rival to my true employer in some unquestioned manner, is not without its own faults. Through illegal and environmentally destructive means, Company X has acquired a list of locations rich in mining-specific resources, some of which are on government land across multiple countries. I don't really care for my employer's intentions with this information, seeing as how I get paid regardless of how things work out on the far end. I'm not bothered morally either.

Stealing from a criminal to give to another criminal keeps the same number of criminals in the world. Tonight is Valborg, a traditional holiday here in Sweden, and more specifically, up Sala, where people drink champagne, eat strawberries, float boats down the river, and celebrate the coming of the long-awaited spring, with the burning of great bonfires across the city and country. The whole day is celebrated. Drinking begins early, and Company X gave everyone the afternoon off following a small company Valborg celebration. Walking out with the crowd, I scanned my card and promptly turned on my heels. Oh, champagne goes right through me.

See you all tomorrow. I lied and laughed the giggle they'd come to expect from their comrade Linae, and darted back towards the offices. I stepped into this supply cupboard around 1 p.m., and as I awoke to the smell of smoke, I checked the time. 8.44. Dark. Sunset as the bonfires of Valborg would begin to rage across the city, ushering in a new spring. Knowing I was never fully alone, I carefully left the cupboard.

I threw my heels out the window, slipping on my silent flats and thin gloves from my purse, which also ended up out the window. My four months here made this a quick part. I'd collected pass codes, camera placements, muted software. The longer you did the job, the more you could afford to make things easier. When I reached the security room, the guard had just left. Slipping in, I sat out to switch the cameras to a loop and to delete the video of me doubling back earlier today. Oddly, watching with a seasoned gaze, I noticed a camera loop.

I couldn't see the security guard walking down Hall 3 on camera 4, which he should have been 50 seconds into his rounds. It was on loop. What I'd come here to do was done, but certainly not by me. The recording from today was gone as well. Confused, but on a time schedule, I carefully removed myself from the security room and continued on. The target, an external hard drive, awaited me in the company's CEO's safe. Gliding down the halls, I spotted my former desk before me, Lenea Paulson's, secretary. I speak enough Swedish to get by, and most international business is done in English, so securing the position once it was available was seamless. The desk had felt too small, and the computer clacked like something from the 90s.

Nothing to mess. I kept my count. I had enough time, so I sat at the computer and plugged in the small thumb drive from my pocket. Not a virus, but a simple invasive program designed to eliminate all records of my false identity's employment. No files found under Linnea Palsons. No files found under given employee ID. I was trying to eliminate something that did not exist. I double-checked and counted my dwindling time.

The guard would be down this hall soon, and by then I needed to be in the same. CEO's office. And yet, my missing data irked me. I'd used my card this morning to enter the building, chatting up the security guy as he pretended the scan had failed, but then heard the positive resounding beep. But I had no time. I went into the office door. Bobby pins make shit lockpicks, but lockpicks can make mediocre hair pins, or at least no one can tell the difference. Pulling a fine set from their secure clip in my hair, I set about the door with only a slight metallic jingle to signify my ill intent. With a self-satisfied click, I opened the door and slipped in, latching it behind me as a peeking sliver of light broke over the hall. The hall was short,

and the guard would be at the door in mere moments. In a controlled scuttle, I dove beneath the CEO's hulking desk, its antique bulk enough to conceal my presence. I could hear footsteps outside the door as I landed, now unable to move as I hid, but from where my knee had landed, something pinched into my skin. Pained, I cringed and bared my teeth in silent protest as the beam of the flashlight swept over and around the desk, lingering, but soon vanishing. As the door clicked closed, I lifted my knee, my eyes rolling back to push down the sounds of pain crawling up in my throat. There, turning on my small pocket light, buried ever so slightly into the bleeding skin of my leg, stood straight a small incisor tooth, no bigger than my pinky nail.

The fuck? Cursing, I ungloved my hand and gripped the tooth between my fingers, biting down on the folded collar of my shirt before ripping up in one swift motion to release the tooth from my skin. In the silent dark I sat, looking at the bloodied tooth in my palm a few moments too long. Faced with an unexpected oddity, I pocketed the tooth, wiped the blood on my undershirt, gloved my hand, and set about the safe. Equipped with my compact flashlight, the safe code, and a newfound discreet. stain for this continuing project, I reached for the dial. There, dark against the metal and the

dim, narrow beam of light, I made a smudge of now drying blood on the dial. Unable to delay further, and my hand already gloved, I dialed in the five-number combination. With an upward crank of the handle I pulled ever so slightly, waiting for that satisfying moment when the safe glides open to reveal success and the eventual payday. Nothing happened. It had clicked, no question, and in there, but my pool had not sufficed. Planting my feet, I gave it a fierce yank and stumbled back as the wall bumped my feet. Confused, I gripped and pulled it again. Before me, a section of wall, narrower than a bathroom stall swung open under slow, heavy weight.

This, while unexpected, would still lead me to my goal. As I stuck my head into the newly revealed narrow hall, I counted my time. I was out of time. I could hear the footsteps of the guard coming up the hall yet again, and soon he'd be back to sweep the office. I ducked into the new hall, light shining down into its darkness as I closed the door behind me. My pocket flashlight lit the way well enough. There was not much to see other than the narrow hall ahead. On the ground I could make out footprints, a not uncommon occurrence when a foreman comes into the office or if an executive makes a sight check. The hall was odd in some regard.

As I turned a corner, I could tell it was narrowing with every step. Where before my shoulders just brushed the walls, I now turned my body slightly to slide past. They had an odd texture or design, slightly rigid or bubbled, but I did not stop to check. I paused and squinted, switching off my light to adjust my eyes, and before me I saw a faint glow,

the warm light of candle flame. Creeping forward, I heard the sound of low, monotone talking, chanting from an unknown room beyond. Approaching the room with palpable caution, I could discern robed figures, standing shoulder to shoulder, facing a point away from my entrance. Able to peer in on their private and eccentric meeting, I stayed quiet and observed. Beneath the chanting, neither in Swedish nor English, nor any other language I spoke or recognized, I could hear a dreadful, moist drip. It was then that I was hit by the wave of self-doubt that made me vastly question my life choices.

A moment flickered in my mind where I thought to turn back, even without the information I sought. Unconsciously, perhaps instinctively, I took a step back, brushing the walls of the narrow hall. With a sharp inhale, I silently cursed. The sound of slight tears accompanied the sensation of spikes digging into my arm. Glancing to the torn clothing of my shoulders,

I saw them scraping against the walls the wrong way. The odd texture I had noticed. before was laying down as small spiked scales, which rose only when set upon in the wrong direction. Getting here had been an inconvenience. Going back could be a bloodbath. Regardless of what I had determined, I tried ever so slightly to wiggle my way back up the hall, if only by a few inches out of time. The scales hooked my hair, slowly pulling me back against the wall. My face greased the wall, scales rising to stab my ear and cheek. Forfeiting, I retreated. I retreated. back towards the room, loosening my hair from its grip. Though I could smell blood, I was fearful

to reach for my injured ear. My slight chirps of pain, having gone unnoticed, I peered out of the hall and into the room beyond. The way the room was lit made things difficult to see. The brief flickering candlelight was striped, leaving long black shadows where the light stayed blocked. The light reached up to the cracked ceiling, but faded into empty darkness, washing over the floor. Though the figure stood in the center of the room, there was more to it. Several walls had cleanly kept shelves, another a small table, with a traditional washing basin, and there, across the room to my left, stood a door. I set off for it, slow and cautious in the dark.

The room stank of smoke, the further I dared venture, and my eyes weren't able to make out how far I'd gone into the flickering spatterings of light. I focused my eyes on the small reflection on the doorknob until my vision teneled. My exit was both so near and so far, small room a quiet and menacing expanse. It was impossible to hold back the torrent that sprung forth from my mouth as a bear trap's claws tore past the flesh to crack bone. I screamed, and it echoed only briefly before being consumed by the silent weight of the room. Waiting, the trap laid hidden in the dark until the rush of adrenaline suddenly put my bleeding crushed ankle on display. I'm afraid you'd be late.

Her voice in the calm of a viper, happy to dance as you awed, lulled to rest until her strike. So different than I remembered. The CEO stepped over to me in a robed glide glide. She was a kind woman, prosperous, diligent, and thoughtful. Yet now she stood before me with a fierceness I had never seen in her eyes. Malevolence, with a vastly unknowable intent. Don't just stand there, call the ambulance! I lashed out at her robe, grasping in the dark at nothing.

An ambulance, dear Linnea, what for? Everyone is out to watch the fires. She didn't smile, but as her eyes narrowed on me, my mind flooded with a primal dread. I struggled to feign any form of composure as I moved towards the door, but the trap clattered its chain in protest. None of that know. They'll help you.

A slim, pale hand revealed itself. from the robe and motioned to the others still cast in the dark. They moved in, two grabbing my arms with a stern vigor and lifting me from the ground. I screamed, the teeth of the trap sliding into my skin, filing against slivers of bone. I know why you're here. Dear Linnea, who walked into my building looking to disappear. I am happy to oblige. She motioned again in another man unhooked the chain from the floor, freeing the trap from its anchor. They drew. dragged me, the metal trap hissing against the floor, and with an uncaring heft dropped me to the ground back in their previous circle. I wasn't sure how good at your job you would actually be. After all, you were a mediocre secretary.

She leaned down to secure the chain to a new anchor on the ground. Really, your Swedish is awful. But you did play the part of sweet Linnea so well. My breath rushed through me. And what? You play the part of not a fucking psycho all day long? I wrenched at the chain. Help! Yelka!

Save your strength. You're already gone. She spoke as they encircled me. Again laying on the floor, my vision blurred with pain. I could make out only small white flecks of light strewn near my hands. I reached out and rattled one into my fingers. A tooth. Many teeth.

A whole mouth set of tiny, pearly teeth. What? I hissed loudly, trying to focus on her. These are kids' teeth. Merely leftovers now. She kicked a few aside, then glanced expectantly at the others. One began a low hum, and soon the room filled with a vibrating, harmonious chant that stung behind my eyes. I couldn't concentrate.

The vibration set out. My teeth felt like they were shaking loose from my jaw. My bones rattled. My limbs felt bloodless. The pain in my leg persisted, but the adrenaline pushed it down as fear rose in its place. Then, just near my immovable foot, spontaneously, and without match nor spark, a green flame sprung up. It pulled along the floor inching nearer my leg, its emerald wispy arms flailing. You can't.

You can't burn me. Desperation and confusion poured out. of me. Help! I gazed up at her, and as she came to the end of her unceasing chant, she glanced down at me. A burning would be too good for you, sweet Linnea. She didn't skip a verse and resumed the chant as the flame grew more condensed. The vibrations rocked through my body further. My jaw began to ache. I tasted copper. Blood dripped down and I lifted my hand to my mouth. With a touch of my tongue, my incisor fell into my palm. My eyes widened, and I fought against the chain.

I grasped the side of the trap and attempted to pull myself free. Clenching my jaw, I released in pain, my leg, my teeth, everything ached and soon, screaming. I felt another tooth come loose. From the dense dancing flame, green and alive, something moved in a manner more organic than ethereal. A small spring of light shifted and moved than another. and before my eyes crawled an insect larger than my hand, which could only be described as a foul millipede. It's black, segmented plates and hundreds of legs shown in the green light,

and with every move it crawled closer to me. Mouth aching, I could not stop myself. What the fuck is this? Another tooth fell from my mouth as I scream. The millipede reached my leg, crawling up. I swatted at it, but some force I could not reconcile held it to me. It crawled so fast and so small, a million black legs scuttling up my shirt. I closed my mouth as it touched my neck and wound its way around my head,

legs pushing in my ears and nostrils. Another of my teeth came loose. I feared spitting it out and held it in my mouth, which I flung my hands over, trying to keep the thing away. I coiled around my hand in jittering noises, barely audible over the chance and vibrations. It pinched at my hand harder and deeper, drawing blood, but I persisted. It gripped my thumbnail and pulled back, and though I screamed through my hands, I held on.

Then it wriggled around my head again and again, an objection. And before I could react, it dove its body into my ear, millions of blackened legs pushing into my skull. The pain pushed into the forefront of my mind, and I could hear the wriggling louder than anything. I grasped at the thing but could not loose it nor harm it. When at once everything was loud and painful, suddenly it became soundless torture as the thing pierces my eardrum. Through my blurry vision, I saw her looking down at me. It's what you're here for.

Our secret to success. It wriggled deeper. 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 creepypon. All stories told on this podcast can be found at creepypasta wiki.com and are protected by a creative commons license. Some rights reserved unless otherwise stated. Welcome to the Drift and Rampers Pemble podcast. Each episode will explore true stories and American legends. From the pages of

history, we'll look at the people, places, and events that helped shape a nation. As darkness descended upon these desperate souls, all but abandoned in the muddy, bloody battlefields of Shiloh. So came the rains. And if that wasn't enough insult to injury, a strange and bizarre phenomenon began to occur. Many of the wounded were left lying on the battlefield for days, and they began to suffer from hypothermia, and amidst their shivering cold, they began to exhibit a strange phosphorus glow emanating from their open wounds. This eerie pale blue light was easy to spot among the wounded. For two days and two nights, the soldiers who survived their wounds lay in the cold, wet field awaiting medical attention.

Then, things got even stranger. All the men who reported that their wounds had been glowing in the night seemed to heal faster than those whose wounds did not glow. These men, with the glowing wounds, not only healed faster, but they had a much higher survival rate than those whose wounds did not glow. And these glowing wounds had far less infection, and even less scarring than the non-glowing wounded. Many of the men who survived this battle

probably couldn't have survived by any other means than by the help of this ghostly weird blue light shining from their wounds. Stories of survival, notable frontier men and women, explorers who struck it rich, and the outlaws that stole it from them. So, saddle up, or settle in, for the Drift and Rumble podcast.

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