Creepy - Day 19 - 5 Years In Hell

Episode Date: October 19, 2018

Maybe it's more than just bad luck...***Written by: J. Speziale and guest narrated by Alicia Atkins***Check out more from the Bad Movie Night Podcast at: https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/bad-movie-night-podcast/id1176160601?mt=2***Please consider supporting the podcast at Patreon.com/Creepypod or creepypod.com/support***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCQ3SrH_3fsROXFAjomKcUtw***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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I was lucky enough to be on there recently to talk about one of my favorite 90s movies, Robot Chocks. Subscribe, review, support any way you can. This is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepy podcast. 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 19. Five years in hell. Written by J. Space and narrated by Alicia Atkins.

Year one. I didn't even notice I was in hell my first year. Everyday life seemed the same, minus one particular detail. Nothing good happened, ever. I had a secure job, relationship, and life. It fell apart. All of those little doubts I had about myself ate away at me until they were full-blown paranoia.

Then, it became reality. My company kept suffering loss after loss until the problems were eventually pinpointed to being solely my fault. After I lost my job, I lost my fiancee to my best friend, and no one seemed to be on my side. Every person in my life was cold and distant.

Even the little things that didn't matter were awful. Food tasted terrible. My favorite shows were cancelled, and something in my apartment always needed to be repaired. Each day was cold with rainy overcast, and the nights were eerily dark, with no stars or moonlight. There is absolutely no enjoyment in hell. But the first year, it's child's play compared to the rest. Year two. During the second year, I came to two possible conclusions.

The first was that I had gone completely insane, and the second was that I was no longer in the same world I was born into. It started in the morning when I powered up the TV. The morning news was on, but I couldn't hear anything. I turned the volume up to max. Still, nothing. I set the remote down, and I couldn't even hear it hit the table. I started to panic and immediately assumed I lost my hearing.

I spoke aloud, but I was able to hear my voice just fine. I walked down to the corner store. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked directly at me. Everything froze, like time was standing still. My stomach turned. A sea of people stared in my direction, but their faces were a jumble of features. Eyes, noses and mouths all swirled in a mess of flesh, hair, and teeth. Even if I wanted to speak with one of these monstrosities, I couldn't.

They remained still. Instead, silence was everywhere I went, and every person stopped and turned in my direction. Always watching my every move with their misplaced eyeballs. Hell was studying me, and it only got worse. Year three. If you've ever wished you could be in complete seclusion, I'll be the first to tell you. It's not worth it. One day, out of nowhere, I was completely alone.

No jumbled-faced people, animals, cars, or life in general. The world was a hollow reminder of what used to be. With no other plan in mind, I started wandering. The depression started to wear on me. Always alone. I had no idea what was going on or where I was. Eventually, it was too much, and the loneliness weighed me down. I gave up.

I jumped off the tallest building I could find. I felt the entire impact of the fall. I heard my bones shatter, but death never came. After three agonizing days of lying on the cold black asphalt, the excruciating pain started to fade, and my body remained intact, even though it should have been completely mingled. Year four. The suicide was a lot of the suicide.

attempt to seem to accelerate things. But I was awarded with one luxury, and I used that term lightly. I could hear sounds again. It wasn't worth much in an empty world, but nevertheless it had returned. But, like everything in hell, there was a reason. My hearing allowed the shadows to terrify me on unimaginable levels. I'm not really sure what these things. are, but I can try my best to describe them. You know that feeling when you're walking in a dark

room or going down a flight of stairs in a creepy basement? The feeling that something is right behind you, so you start moving a little faster to get to the light? Multiply that fear by 100. I would catch glimpses of them out of the corner of my eye. Tall, black humanoid figures darting quickly behind buildings or trees. I could feel them getting closer. The creeping paranoia consumed me. One night I was taking a shortcut through an apartment complex. The entrance doors were open and a flickering fluorescent light partially illuminated the narrow ground floor hallway. Halfway down the corridor, the lights went out and darkness washed over me. The hair on the back of my neck stood straight up and I had the unmistakable feeling of something behind me. I prepared to run,

but it was too late. With a high-pitched howl, one of the shadows had me. Its cold, dead hands wrapped around my arms as it sank its teeth into the top of my skull. The pain was indescribable. I thrashed around in agony as more shadows emerged from the open apartment doors. In my fit of pain and terror, I pulled my head free from the fangs and stumbled to my feet. I ran for what seemed like hours. I learned quickly that traveling in the evening was no longer an option. I barricade myself in any shelter I could find every night.

night. The shadows always paced outside my doors until they would leave each morning as the dull, gray cloud-covered sunlight drove them off. Year five. Eventually, my nomadic lifestyle was impossible to continue. I unlocked the door of the small two-bedroom house I had been sleeping in and walked outside. It was raining. It was always raining. Despite all that I had been through, what I saw took me by complete surprise. The first change was the gates. Black, iron bars had surrounded the neighborhood. They extended from the ground and rose impossibly high into the sky.

I was trapped. The second thing I noticed were corpses. Dozens of them were lined up on the street in perfectly straight rows. They were in various stages of decomposition, from recently deceased to walking skeletons with hanging flesh. In groups of four, they walked hands. hand towards a massive swimming pool-sized hole in the ground. Without hesitation, a group of four would fall in, and after a few seconds, the next group would follow suit. I turned around to head back inside the home, but I couldn't.

The iron bars had somehow closed in and were just a few feet away. I looked back towards the people and saw the bars across the street had moved in closer as well. It was pushing me towards the hole. I panicked and grabbed the bars with both hands and began to shake them. They didn't budge. I started running the entire perimeter, looking for a way out. The bars began to move, ripping through earth and concrete, pushing me closer and closer to the dark abyss. By this time, the rows of people were gone.

I planted my feet in the ground and began pushing with all my strength. The bars continued to force me closer to the endless hole, despite my efforts. After a few moments, it was too late. I was right on the hedge. I remember clawing at the ground, begging for help. I accepted the inevitable fact that I was going to descend into the darkness. Dozens of cold hands reached out and grabbed my legs. Fingernails and bones dug into my flesh.

But just before I fell, a flash of light blinded me. Electric pain filled my chest. I woke up in the emergency room back on Earth. According to the paramedics, I was only dead for five seconds. I began rambling about all that I had seen and been through. No one seemed to acknowledge or believe me. This story is not a lesson. I am not telling you to change your life or be a better person.

This is a warning. If nothing is going well in your life, it might not be coincidence. You may be in hell. Hey, this is Chris, and I just wanted to let you know about our podcast, Bad Movie Night. Each week, we dive into an obscure horror, sci-fi, or fantasy movie, and then discuss. My God, this looks like a proboscis. Not only to make fun of,

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