Creepy - Day 18 - Remember, They Are Watching

Episode Date: October 18, 2017

Remember...***Written by: Tanner Paulson***Support the podcast and get more content at Patreon.com/creepypod***Sound design by Owen McCuen 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 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 18. Remember, they are watching. By listener Tanner Paulson. I've been chasing this story for a while now. It's when you probably don't remember from the news because it wasn't on the news. It happened in a town near me in Wisconsin. I'd rather not tell the name of the town and the deep. details of it didn't spread very far.

After a couple of days, people I had discussed the chilling details with suddenly wouldn't even acknowledge that they had ever heard of it. After a week, I was almost fully convinced I'd made it all up, even though I knew my friend had told me about it. It drove me mad. I had to know if it really happened, especially because it happened just a dozen or so miles from where I lived. So I looked into it, but came out mostly empty.

However, I had one fact that came through, the name of the officer who responded to the call, which I will not put here to protect his identity. I got in Dutch with him, and he agreed to talk to me. He met with me a week ago in a state park 20 miles north of my town. I figured it was worth the drive to hear this story firsthand. I saw him sitting at a picnic table under a pavilion smoking a cigarette. He was obviously nervous, his eyes darting from left to right, but never turned his head. When he saw me, he motioned for me to sit across from him at the table.

We chatted small talk for a bit, and then he finally told me he was certain we were alone and that it was hard to talk. I was about to ask him why he thought we may not have been alone when he cut me off. He told me he'd written a story down In as much detail as he could And slid it across the table to me Then he got up and left Now responding to my pleas to get him to stay and tell me firsthand I was kind of pissed so I hopped in my car and raced home

Once there I read this and then typed it out He blanked out the name so I filled in the blanks myself To make it easier to read I received a call about 530 on March 21st I sped down the highway to get to the house of Mr. and Mrs. Jones 12 miles out of town. They lived in the middle of nowhere. Their house surrounded by corn and soybean fields. Upon arriving, I saw Mrs. Jones in the front lawn covered in blood, screaming.

She looked awful, aside from the dripping blood. Her hair was falling out. She was missing teeth, and her eyes were sunken deep into her skull. I hopped out of my cruiser and ran to see if she was all. all right. She told me it wasn't her blood, but that her husband was inside and that it was his blood. At this point, I believe she'd possibly killed him, so I led her into the back of my cruiser where the doors can't be open from the inside. She screamed at me to just hurry the hell up and save her husband, so I got her in quickly and ran into the house. What I saw will haunt me for the

rest of my life. I walked through the entry hallway, which had a door to the right and left and an archway at the end that led to the kitchen. As I approached the doors, I heard humming in a wet, sloppy slurping noise. At least, that's the only way I can describe it. The noise was coming from the door on the left, so I prepared to peer around the corner of the open door frame. As I leaned into the room, I could smell the distinct smell of blood and something else, like a gutted deer. I almost vomited, especially so when I saw what the smell was coming from. Mr. Jones was lying on the couch, smiling and humming a tune, playing with his intestines. He was gutted from the lower belly up to his chest.

His innards just lay there, exposed. Flies buzzed around the room, some landing on parts of him that should never see daylight. The whole time I stood there, shocked. He was smiling and humming. As terrible as a sight was, that isn't the most unsettling part of it for me. I can hear the tune in my head whenever it gets quiet. He paused his humming and talked to himself for a moment. He talked about how interesting his organs were

and occasionally poked his innards with a bloody pocket knife. After a few minutes, me standing in shock, he noticed that I was there and looked at me. He waved, intestines still in hand, and said, Good evening officer. Is there something I can help you with tonight? I lost it. I pulled my weapon from the holster and pointed it at him.

I screamed the likes of, What the fuck is wrong with you? And was about to squeeze the trigger when he stopped smiling and vomit on the floor. Then his head shot straight up, staring directly at the ceiling. I noticed a slight glow radiating from his eyes and mouth. A bright orange orre floated out of his throat. through a closed window and straight up into the air.

I knew Mr. Jones was dead. So I left him and went back to my cruiser to radio for back up and in ambulance. I had walked back in a daze and just stared blankly out the windshield until they arrived. I didn't even hear Mrs. Jones screaming in my ear, asking about her husband. The two officers went into the house and came running back out, spraying the dinner they had most likely just eaten all over the porch. A paramedic told me later something odd. Mr. Jones had been dead for two days. Even stranger, his wife had severe radiation poisoning.

They tested Mr. Jones and he was giving off low levels of radiation. The paramedic thought it was odd but brushed it off, thinking there was probably a perfectly good explanation. I obviously told people about the orange orb, but nobody believed me. They contributed to shock of seeing a man with his guts hanging out. But I know what I saw. Just as the ambulance was about to leave with the body of Mr. Jones and his very sick wife, a helicopter landed in the yard.

They took Mr. and Mrs. Jones. The next day, the house was wiped off the face of the earth. In fact, dozens of trees were planted in the lot where their house once stood. Tell this story. Before it gets buried forever. But be careful. Remember, they are watching. ago, the officer who gave me this was found dead. He had 40 self-inflicted knife wounds on every

part of his body except the hand that held the knife. I talked to the corner after cornering him at the coffee shop, and he told me that he should have bled out far before administering a majority of the wounds as they hit major arteries. When I mentioned radiation, he squeezed past me and said he'd already told me far too much. As he reached the door, he turned to me and said quietly while looking up. Hey, they are watching. They are watching. 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 creepy pod on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook, or email all stories told on this podcast can be found.

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