Creepy - Day 17- Only Following Orders

Episode Date: October 17, 2020

It wasn't my fault...***Content warning: child death***See your donation rewards podcast at patreon.com/creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCQ3SrH_3fsROXFAjomKcUtw***Music 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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Now, this is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous, chilling and disturbing creepy pastas and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened or are simply fabricated. Cauticants 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 17, only following orders, narrated by Joe Stoffco. The story you are about to read is one, that has been for the last 70 years left to wither in the hearts of those few who recall it. Of the twelve of us present that day, or may I remain, and my own end is rapidly approaching. I write this tale with shaky hands solely in order to console myself in my final moments, and I hope anyone who may discover this document will refrain from judgment upon me or my comrades until the end.

I distinctly recall sitting in a tent with my fellow soldiers just outside the Berlin, huddling around the shortwave radio and listening to the trials of our nation's greatest foes. They feigned insanity, pled guilty, gave harrowing accounts of every detail and every single crime committed by their hand or under their watch. My favorites, however, were the ones that pled innocent, the ones who said, I was just following orders. I had to wonder what I would say, had the war ended with Moscow under the Iron Eagle,

what would I say if asked to justify my actions in war? I believe I know exactly what I would say, and it would be the same as the men being jeered by the entire Red Army, excluding the ten of us gathered in the tent. see, the too luckiest of us had already died. It was a quiet village in eastern Germany, December 24th, 1944. We were under orders to seek out any soldiers lying in wait to ambush the main column of the army. Our sergeant, Ivan, took the lead, the rest of us falling in behind him. It was raining heavily, obscuring our vision.

A sharp crack jerked me to attention, and I immediately fell to my stomach. I smelled smoke, and I heard a thump in the dirt a dozen feet ahead of me. The sound of gunfire roared in my ears as we returned fire. We had no idea where the shot had come from, so each among us took our best guess and fired in that direction.

We knew we would not hit the tutor, but we had hoped to scare him off. I decided to hold my fire in order to cover my comrades, as they reloaded their weapons. When the gunfire stopped, I watched carefully for the nearby houses. A quick movement by a roadside fence caught my eye, and I quickly shot off a couple rounds at the dark mass. At least one of my shots must have landed

because whatever it was fell to the ground, unmoving. By now my fellow soldiers had finished reloading, and so I ejected my magazine and slid a new one in its place. We were still for some time waiting for the returning fire. When it never came, Ivan came up to a crouch and quietly walked over to the corpse. He felt the pulse. and then returned to us.

Yes, we got him, he said. In his eyes I saw something I hadn't seen before, a kind of deep sadness and regret. No matter how I pushed, he would not tell me why. We stood and casually walked over to the house where the shooter had come from. Ivan knocked on the door. We waited a moment,

and Ivan firmly planted his foot up. on the floor, rearing back to kick the door down when a shotgun blast blew through the door. Ivan fell to the ground, riddled with buckshot. We returned fire through the door, then swiftly beat it down with the stock of our rifles. Inside, broken glass littered the floor, and bullet holes scattered along the walls. On the ground was a young woman, shot fatally four times. In her hand, the shotgun that killed Ivan. We had had more than enough of this village. We ransacked the house, throwing over tables,

and filling our pockets with valuables. When we had finished, we threw gas lamps onto the floor and tossed matches on the pulling liquid. We left the house on fire. It was only once we were outside again that we heard the wailing. By then, the flames had taken hold, and it was too late to re-enter the building.

The mother had hidden her babe before turning to fight us, and we hadn't found it before torturing the house. The walls continued for just a few minutes before falling silent among the crackling flames. A man burst from a building down the street and sprinted toward us screaming in German, Our translator gaped at him, and then we raised our rifles. He held up his hand to stop us.

The German man shoved past us and up to the burning building. He hesitated only briefly at the doorway before running through. He didn't come back out. By the time the fire had died, we couldn't see it anymore. The rest of our mission went by in silence. When we doubled back to where we came, we found people standing in the street staring at us. Some were angry, some sad, but most had just a blank stare. I still see it in my nightmares. When we passed the house, I stopped. I announced to no one in particular that I had to take a leak. No one believed it, but that didn't matter.

I stepped into the shell of the house. had destroyed. There, on the floor in the bedroom, I saw the skeleton of a man crushed under a wooden beam, a smaller collection of misshapen bones in his arms. In the yard by the fence, I saw a little boy with a toy gun, dressed in the oversized uniform of a German soldier. At night we all had nightmares. The man, with his wild eyes, told each of us that he would be back for us, one after the other. The next day, we had left it off together. We had thrown ourselves into our duties.

We had fought hard not to think about the screaming man and a veiling baby. One by one, as the years went by, we died. Here, one of us fell from a tower we were constructing. There, an aggressive form of cancer that suddenly a peasant. in the brain, never obvious but always suspicious to us, because we knew. We all knew what was happening. When there were just two of us, just Yosef and I, he had come to visit me. When he had knocked, I thought my time had come, but I should have known I would be last. He is coming for me, Yosef had said,

It is my time now. I would have liked to console him, to assure him it was all a coincidence. But we both knew better. At night, Yosef cried on my shoulder, and eye on his. I am so sorry, he had sobbed. I didn't know.

The next day he shot himself in his apartment. That was one week ago, and now it is my turn. I know he is coming. Every night in my sleep he gazes into my eyes and smiles. Every night he smiles wider. Last night he began to speak quietly. So quiet I cannot hear any of what he says

other than make out that he is speaking. I don't want to hear what he has to say. I cannot sleep tonight. I will stay up as late as possible, and before I sleep, I will climb to the roof and stand on the edge. I must. I cannot know what he will say. The shot at us, the woman killed Ivan. We couldn't have known about the baby.

We were just eliminating the resistance. That's all. We were only following orders. only following orders. The Patreon Vault Creepy presents The Blackbird of Chernobyl Beginning in early 1986

The people in and around the little-known Chernobyl nuclear power plant began to experience a series of strange events revolving around sightings of a mysterious creature described as a large, dark, and mutated man with gigantic wings and piercing red eyes. people affected by this phenomena experienced horrific nightmares, threatening phone calls, and first-hand encounters with the winged beast which became known as the Blackbird of Chernobyl. Reports of these strange happenings continue to increase until the morning of April 26, 1986,

when at 1.23 a.m., reactor 4 of the Chernobyl nuclear power plant suffered a catastrophic steam explosion that resulted in a fire which caused a series of additional explosions, followed by a nuclear meltdown. The power plant, located near Pripyat, Ukraine, Soviet Union, spewed a plume of radioactive fallout which drifted over parts of the Western Soviet Union, eastern and Western Europe, Scandinavia, the UK, Ireland, and Eastern North America. Large areas of Ukraine, Belarus, and Russia were badly contaminated, resulting in the evacuation and resettlement of over 336,000 people. The Chernobyl disaster, as the incident was dubbed, is considered the worst accident ever in the history of nuclear power. Following the meltdown, the subsequent explosions and fires, Soviet helicopters were dispatched at the scene equipped with special firefighting gear.

These helicopters circled the plant, dropping clay, sand, lead, and other extinguishing chemicals on to the burning facility. Most of the fire was put out by 5 a.m. with the fire burning within reactor 4 continuing to blaze for several hours after. The firefighters who responded were unaware of the nature of the fire, assuming that it was simply an electrical fire, and received massive overdoses of radiation leading to many of their deaths, including Lieutenant Vladimir Prevac. who died May 9, 1986. The workers who survived the initial blast and fire, but would later die of radiation poisoning, claimed to have witnessed what has been described

as a large black bird-like creature, with a 20-foot wingspan, gliding through the swirling plumes of irradiated smoke pouring from the reactor. No further sightings of the Blackbird of Chernobyl were reported after the Chernobyl disaster, leaving researchers to speculate just what haunted the workers. of the plant during the days leading up to the disaster. The most commonly accepted theories suggested that the Blackbird of Chernobyl may have been the same creatures spotted in Point Pleasant, West Virginia,

leading up to the collapse of the Silver Bridge on December 15, 1968. Investigators have suggested that the appearance of this creature is an omen of disasters to come in the area in which it shows itself. The physical description of both the Blackbird of Chernobyl and the moth. man, the creature cited in West Virginia, are very similar. And the reports of nightmares and threatening phone calls leading up to these disasters are shared in both cases. A second, less accepted theory, suggests that the blackbird of Chernobyl was nothing

more than the misidentification of a black stork, an endangered species endemic of southern Eurasia. The black stork stands nearly three feet tall and is a wingspan of nearly six feet. This theory, however, fails to take into account the menacing phone calls and the disturbing nightmares. Also, the physical description given by the majority of eyewitnesses who actually saw the Black Bird of Chernobyl does not in any way match the physical appearance of the Black Stork. Both the Blackbird of Chernobyl and the Moth Man have not been cited since the respective disasters, leaving us with many unanswered questions.

All we can do is wait for the beast to show itself again. and give us a chance to figure out just what it may be. Unfortunately, it would appear that for this creature to show up again, we would have to anticipate some form of disaster in the area it is selected to appear. For more information, including pictures and videos of the stories told on this podcast, or to suggest stories for future episodes, please visit us. creepy pod on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook, or email. All stories told on this podcast can be found at creepypasta wikia.com

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