Creepy - Day 16 - Heat Melts Everything

Episode Date: October 16, 2019

Especially the snow...***Written by Regjit***See your donation rewards podcast at patreon.com/creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCQ3SrH_3fsROXFAjomKcUtw***Produced by Steve Blizin***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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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 16. Heat melts everything.

Written by user regit. When I was 12, and still unaware of all the ugliness in the world, my mother and I would visit our family in Hungary once every year. We'd usually go around Christmas. My family is huge. My grandmother has three daughters. Divided amongst them were her 15 precious grandchildren. I am an only child.

So whenever I was with my family, I felt like I had my fair share of brothers and sisters, which I did not have at home. They even treated me like I was one of them, too. My cousins would beat me like brothers do, in a lovingly way, of course. Whenever I did something bad, my aunt would give me the slipper, just like she did with her children. I absolutely adored each and every one of them. Most of my most precious childhood memories include at least one of my cousins, especially

my cousin Peter. He's exactly four months older than me. Every year when I saw him, we would rush over to each other, stand back to back and ask my grandmother to check which one of us was taller. Peter was always just a half an inch taller. He was always rubbing it in my face. He was always acting like my big brother, and I secretly loved it. He was my best friend in the whole world.

In my family's possession is a small house and a little village in the mountains of Hungary. Well, I'm not sure I can call it a house. There's no running water or central heating. The panels were sliding off the roof, huge cracks in the wall, terrible isolation, and pretty much everything for a season's worth of extreme home makeover. We couldn't even shower properly. We had to get water in buckets at least five times a day from the sky blue, water pump across the street.

Nonetheless, we all loved the place. It was one of my favorite places in the world. Every winter, I was looking forward to spending a few days in that shitty old house. I'd usually go with one of my aunts and uncles and about five cousins, which is already too much to fit inside the house. We'd all sleep in the living room, even though there was barely enough room for us all. There was something cozy about being all cramped up. in there with your favorite people in the world.

My uncle would always light the fireplace. It always took a few hours for the house to warm up completely because of the terrible isolation. Also, it's always freezing outside during the winter up in the mountains. Across the street, almost next to the blue water pump, was a restaurant. I don't remember much of it. We didn't really go there because it was just too expensive for us to eat there. All I remember is that the windows,

had these red and white plaid curtains, and that the restaurant was built on a five-foot-tall-solid concrete platform. One autumn, the restaurant burned to the ground, killing three people. We didn't actually find out until a few weeks after, because we never visit in any other season besides winter. My grandfather drove up there at around November to check up on the roof because it had been very unstable for weeks. Suddenly the restaurant wasn't there anymore.

just a massive concrete platform it was once resting on. After some masking around the village, my grandfather found out from the old man who works at the local mini-mart that one night had just caught on fire and couldn't be saved, and neither could the three people who ended up losing their lives to the flames. An electrical failure, the fire department said. That year, the same year the restaurant burned down. My life was turned upside down. That winter, a substantial amount of stuff.

snow had fallen. When we were driving up from the mountain for a yearly visit to our little house and happy place, Peter and I couldn't stop talking about checking out the ground zero, where the restaurant had once been. The higher we got up in the mountains, the more snow there was. Once we arrived at the house and got settled, Peter and myself went out to check the remains at the restaurant. Ma'at yelled something at us while we walked off the property. We walked across the street and walked off the property. We walked across the street and walked around the platform.

Around it was debris, lots and lots of debris, pieces of bricks mostly. But her curiosity and thirst for adventure wasn't quenched yet. After we walked around the platform for the third time, Peter spoke up. Let's check what's up there. But your mom told us not to, I said with a slight discomfort in my voice. Peter had always been the bravest of the two of us. Big deal. I'll just go alone then.

and started to pull himself up to platform ledge. Not looking forward to the circus of hurtful words I get flung at my head for not climbing up there with him, I followed. Well, this was a waste of time, Peter said, disappointed, while looking at the endless debris and occasional pipe sticking from the concrete. I was just starting to turn back to climb down as my eyes fell on something. A handrail. I was insured first, but after closer inspection,

and my mind cleared up. Hey, Peter, come look at this. Whoa, creepy as shit, said Peter. He was always using bad words when there are no grown-ups nearby. We were staring down a small set of stairs leading into the concrete. It didn't go that far, like eight steps or so if I remember correctly. I'm going to go check it out, Peter said. It was meant to sound brave, but I could clearly hear you with something.

somewhat hesitant. Yeah, good luck with that, I said. I don't care how much shit he was going to give me. I was not going in there. Peter started walking down the stairs. The moment he set foot on the first step, I felt a warm breeze stroking my face. I almost jumped. It came from wherever I was down there.

I was trying to pull myself together and figure out how on earth that was possible when everything around it had burned down months ago. Peter was already down the snowy stairs. He didn't seem to have noticed. It looks like a small kitchen or something. I heard Peter say. Gathering in my thoughts and balls, I strolled down there as well. I almost started to laugh with relief forgetting about what it just happened when I saw what was down there.

It was an almost perfect square room with rough brick walls, some pipes running over the wall. A stove, a few of the wall. shelves and something that looked like a small refrigerator. Nothing scary. The room itself, however, was flooded. Because it was so cold outside, the water in the room was completely frozen. We couldn't see how deep the water, or ice, was. Only half the stove was sticking out of the ice, so that gave some sort of indication.

Realizing that we would not find anything, we walked back up the stairs. Zepro was almost ready anyway. While I was walking up the stairs following Peter, I saw something from the corner of my eye. Something moved under the ice. Something dark. I stopped dead in my tracks. I slowly turned my head towards the ice, even though every part of me was telling me no, yelling to get the fuck out of there.

There was nothing. Just ice? and furniture. Still, I let out a scream and I ran. Even though I wasn't sure what I was afraid of. I wasn't even sure if I actually saw something down there or that it was just my imagination. As I jumped down the concrete platform, I heard Peter yelling something at me. I could hear the words, What the Hell, and chicken. I wasn't very brave or tough, so you could guess I didn't get much sleep that night. Since all of us were sleeping in the living room, I took a glance at Peter every now and then to see if he couldn't sleep either.

He was sleeping. Of course he was. He didn't see what I saw. Did I actually see it? Maybe it was all my imagination after all. After a few hours of sleeplessness, I suddenly felt it again. A warm breeze flowing across my face and body. Slightly panicking, I looked around me if anyone else had noticed.

Everyone was still sleeping. except for Peter. I noticed that Peter's eyes were open. I thought he was awake at first, so I tried to get his attention without making a noise by waving my arms in his direction. He didn't directly respond to my effortless attempt to try and get him to look at me,

but he did do something else. He got up and started walking towards the living room door. He was going to take a piss, was my first thought. But then through the window of the living room, which is next to the front door, I saw Peter. He was not walking towards the outhouse. He was walking towards the street. A brief five seconds later, I heard our gate open. I couldn't just let him stroll out there alone.

So I jumped out of bed and ran out the front door into the ankle-deep snow, try not to wake anyone up in the process. At this point, I was starting to put the pieces together. When I walked out on the street, tears were already streaming down my face. I was freezing outside, but I didn't care. I didn't even put shoes on. I just wanted to make sure Peter was okay. Through my tears, I tried looking for him.

When I didn't see him, I almost automatically ran towards a concrete platform where we were exploring that afternoon. As I got closer, I began to see smoke coming from the platform. Not smoke. It was steam. Climbing from the ledge trying to figure out how the fuck steam was coming from the platform. I saw him. Peter was standing at the top of the small set of stairs leading down into that basement.

I dashed towards him and grabbed both of his shoulders. Just as I was about to start shaking him back to all his senses and ask him what the fuck he was doing out here. A wave of heat shook my entire body. It was like the world around me. disappeared and all I could see was flames and smoke. In the smoke. There it was.

Even though I couldn't get a proper look at him that afternoon, I was sure it was the same thing I saw earlier that day. The thing I saw moving underneath the ice, a long, lanky figure emerged from the smoke. It was almost like it was made from smoke itself. An extreme intense, he was radiating from this thing. It became harder and harder to work. breathe as a smoke surrounded me like a very tight sleeping bag. Just when I thought I was about to pass out, all of this.

The fire, smoke, and the figure all melted away before my eyes. And all I saw was Peter. But he was not standing in the same place yet before. He was now standing on the bottom step, staring into the underground kitchen. I wasn't sure how long these visions lasted. I didn't care. All I wanted was to get the fuck out of there and take Peter, me.

I noticed that all the snow on the platform where the kitchen was hidden underneath had melted. My heart was pounding so fast, I thought I was going to throw up. I was running on pure adrenaline at this point. If it wasn't for my best buddy Peter being down there, I would have ran back home and beyond already. I figured out how I was going to get him out of there. I was going to jump down the stairs, pick him up, and carry him out of there. It was probably a bad idea.

But it was all 12-year-old me. think of at that point. I took a deep breath and jumped. I skipped two steps and leapt into the steam down the stairs. On the second leap, I slipped. I remember trying to grasp the rusty railing, but instead I hit my head on it. The second my head hit the railing, I felt it again. That immense sickening heat.

I pulled myself back onto my feet and looked up into that glowing hot kitchen. All the ice that was flooding that room earlier that after you, was now water. Peter was still standing where he was before I slipped. His glare still fixed on the water. It was literally boiling. Terrified, as I was looking at a boil. I saw something rise up from the water. It was that inhuman, lanky figure. The water didn't react to a breaking the surface. It just emerged from the boiling water like a ghost. I could hear something that could be called whispering, but it wasn't any other whispering I had heard before. It was inaudible, far away, like a choir singing very quietly in the distance. I saw the thing dashed closer toward

Peter and it happened in the blink of an eye, but it felt like an eternity. There was a noise that probably shattered my eardrums. It sounded like a shiphorn, only more guttural and way, way louder. Tear clogged my windpipe. Tears streaming down my face, the thin coming ever so closer. Just when I was certain that I would die right here, right now, aired a big splash right next to me inside two legs disappear, followed by the sizzling of water.

A few seconds later, everything looked quiet. The water stopped boiling. The thing was gone, but so was Peter. The fucking thing took Peter. Total terror made place for total panic. I screamed. I cried. And I ran.

I don't remember much after that. I woke up in a hospital and a city at the foot of the mountain. I was told that my family heard my scream didn't follow me in the woods later that night. There's a massive search going on for Peter, but of course, they never found him, telling my family, the doctors, the police what I saw, but they didn't believe me. The doctor said that I was severely traumatized and that that was my way of dealing with the loss of my little friend and cousin. But I know what I saw that night. Even though everyone tells me nobody heard anything odd that night, I never stopped having it ever since. The thing still haunts my dreams.

reliving that one night over and over again. Two years ago, my aunt told me that they demolished the concrete platform, as it was quite an eyesore for most of the villagers. Last week at the beginning of January, I went back there. I thought I needed it for closure. Since it was the middle of winter, there was a fair amount of snow, especially higher up in the mountain. I got off the bus since I were walking towards a place for the restaurant,

once it been. My heart pounding faster and faster with every step. When I got close enough to see the exact place the underground kitchen once had been, I almost threw up. There was a perfect square patch of grass without any snow on it. 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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