Creepy - Day 22 - Mary & Cold Shivers

Episode Date: October 22, 2023

Mary***Written by: Laugh Man and Narrated by: Megan McDuffee***Bonus episode: "Cold Shivers" Written by: HopelessNightOwl***Link: https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/Cold_Shivers***https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/***Title music by: Alex Aldea Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

No. This is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous, chilling and disturbing creepyposters 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. party. Dark plastic tablecloths hang swaying eerily from the rafters, casting shadows and creating spooky spaces for party guests to mill about. The lights are dim with strobes and strings

glowing all around. Tables are set with bowls, containing cold spaghetti brains and slimy grape eyeballs for nervous hands to discover if they dare. Guests begin to arrive in full costumes, attempting to outdo each other to win bragging rights and this year's costume trophy. classic party songs played gently in the background. The monster mash and purple people eater stoke memories of childhood lost as the guests sip adult beverages from their red plastic solo cups. Children scurry, giving chase to those who jump out from the shadows, giving their friends a scare.

While the night progresses, dancing shoes loosen as the cheeks burn red with alcohol and confidence. As the party trickles to an end and parents stumble back, to their respective corners of the cul-de-sac. Their children are left behind for a slumber party at the host's house. The living room is cleared of tables and chairs so sleeping bags can be sprawled out in front of the TV. A classic horror movie plays, featuring an axe-wielding dad and glowing red eyes, hovering outside of the second-story window.

The children huddle together, squealing with delight, as the clock strikes 3.15 a.m., both in the movie and in the home. The spunky neighborhood girl, her face still painted white like a ghost, proclaims she has a great idea during the switching hour. The others crowd closer as she tells the story of a familiar tale full of mirrors and witches and dares. The legend claims the original act was good-natured for those seeking a glimpse of the future, standing in the dark or walking backwards up the stairs.

Both versions require only a candle, mirror, and simple chant in order to reveal the image of their future husband. But this comes with a risk, for if they see a skull or grim reaper, it means they will die before they wed. On nights such as this, there's only one way to find out, so the children rush to the small bathroom down the hall to face their fears. As they cram around the sink at the base of the looking glass,

one child claims they heard on good authority that their cousin's neighbor's girlfriend saw the figure and had her eyes slashed out. Another said they heard someone was strangled by the otherworldly apparition right through the mirror they'd conjured it from, and a third claims they know someone whose soul was stolen by the entity, leaving them to wander the earth in a constant state of sorrow. The slumber party host, a girl slightly younger than the rest,

yet fearless in posture, volunteered herself first to see if these legends were true. A candle is brought in from the hallway, its flame licks at the edges of the glass as it resists the air for which it travels through. Coughing the jar below her chin, she holds the flame close. The shadows distort her facial features as her expression turns serious and her face stretches long and thin. The children grow quiet as she utters her name for the first time. Bloody Mary! Nervous giggles erupt followed by immediate shushes.

The children fall silent again as the children fall silent again as the same. they hold each other's hands and cower behind one another, smiles spread across their faces and wide eyes glimmering in the candlelight. The thrill was both exhilarating and terrifying, perfect for a haunted evening. Cradling the candle closer, the heat beginning to burn her chin, the girl stares at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes are swallowed by the shadows cast from the tiny torch in her hands. Her cheeks shift in the contours and angles of her face. as it continues to dance in her breath. Bloody Mary, she repeats in a whisper.

The silence is thick in the small space, each child holding its breath, waiting for the final summons. The only movement was that of the flame reacting to her gently shaking hands as she paused, waiting for any sign of a monster or man to appear. She leans closer to the mirror, studying the glass,

questioning its fluidity, wondering if something will reveal itself after all. Barely audible, she breathes for a third and final time. Bloody Mary, the darkness dances across their faces as all eyes are on the mirror. The room appears to shrink, the blackness behind them closing in. Suddenly, the flame goes out. A child shrieks, causing an avalanche of noise as they rush from the bathroom and the candle jars dropped, smashing into a million pieces on the floor.

The children all huddle under their blankets and pillows, covering their faces to avoid the monster they were sure just appeared. All the lights rise at once as the commotion disturbed the sleepy parents on the second floor, and they rushed down to see what was going on. Coming upon the shards of glass, they declare that it's officially bedtime and calm everyone down as they clean up the mess. The next morning, the kids were still buzzing from their adventurous night with the supernatural. The story had already been expanded and changed, their wild imaginations, speaking of ghostly figures and scary claws reaching for them.

Only the host girl knew she was the only one who gently blew out the candle to scare the rest. Her sleepover will go down in history. She can already hear their future campfire tales beginning with, one time when I played Bloody Mary and relished at the fact that it was her doing. Throughout the day, the children slowly returned to their homes as hungover parents came to pick them up, one by one, until there was just the host girl remaining. She scarfed down her dinner and asked her parents if she could finish the scary movie from the night before. They asked if she was brave enough to watch it alone, already knowing she was. She nodded with a smile and hopped off the chair, dashing to the living room to cue up her movie.

As the film continued, her parents adjourned to their bedroom, leaving her, to engulf herself in covers and snuggle down under the creases of the couch. Only her face was illuminated by the television as she embraced the warmth and fluff surrounding her. She jumped at the scary parts and burrowed deep into the blankets, peeking out between her fingers while giggling at her foolishness. She loved the way scary movies made her feel, the thrills, the chills, the bumps on her skin. As the credits rolled, she sighed in sadness that it was over, but her heavy exhale was, was interrupted with a yawn as sleep suddenly fell upon her. Wiping the heaviness from her eyes, she clicked off the TV, leaving her in the quiet of the living room. The pale blue glow of the

moon gleamed through the windows, casting only a sliver of light on the floor in front of her. As she peered into the distance to the staircase, she felt uneasy as she examined the space, separating her from the comfort of her bedroom. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the jitters reminding herself it was just a movie. She threw the covers to the side and placed her feet on the carpet. Then suddenly she heard the faint whimper of a girl's voice. Frozen in place, she felt every hair on her body lift in reaction to the tiny sound that came from the shadows, for she was an only child and her parents were in bed. She slowly turned her head to the right, her eyes straining to adjust to the darkness of the hallway. She held her breath listening for another sound, but none came.

When she finally drew in a shaky breath, she realized she had grabbed the covers again and was clutching them so tight in her hands that her knuckles had turned white. She scoffed herself for being ridiculous and threw the covers to the side once again. This time, as she planted her feet firmly, the whimper came louder, and she knew it wasn't her ears playing tricks. She stopped dead in her tracks. Her hands began to tremble as she heard the moaning continue softly filled with such sadness. She swore this time she heard the words, Help me, buried within the frail groans.

Her shallow breathing came and left in short bursts of nervousness. She swallowed hard, the dryness of her mouth like sandpaper down her throat. She wanted to run to her room but had to pass the entrance to the tiny bath, where the noises were originating. This time, a clear, tiny word materialized. Please. The girl took a weary step forward as gentle sobs emanated consistently now from the half-bathroom. She crept to the wall and pressed her back against the frigid surface, the iciness causing her hair follicles to stand on edge as the cold seeped through her nightgown, almost wet on her back.

She pressed her ear to the wall and heard tiny murmur again, pleading, crying, helpless. The small vibrations of the voice cautioned her that someone was actually in there pleading for help. Had one of the neighbor kids been left behind? Impossible, she thought. Sliding along the wall, she stretched her arm out until her fingertips grazed the doorframe, causing a scratching sound that made her stop. The little voice called out again. Hello? Are you out there?

The girl who just 24 hours prior was the most fearless on her block now had a steady stream of pee running down her leg, soaking into the carpet. Had she conjured the infamous spirit? Was Bloody Mary a child just like her but trapped in glass? She edged closer to the entryway, ready to dash if beaming red eyes glared back at her when she peered inside. She slowly leaned forward. ever so slightly peeking into the darkness, but was met with nothing. The sobs had stopped.

The pleas dissipated. No sign that anything had ever happened. Had she imagined the whole thing? Feeling braver, she leaned a little further to look around the door deeper into the room. Still, nothing. Her limbs fell in relief. Her arms swung to her sides with the natural weight of tense muscles gone soft. She hung her head, catching her breath, and saw the mess she had made on the carpet below her.

Embarrassed, she made a face, and then flipped on the light in the bathroom to grab some towels to clean it up. Her finger still on the light switch, she looked at the mirror and was met with the gaze of a familiar girl. The reflection looked just like her, but was bloodied and battered with dark pits for eyes. Her face was ripped to shreds with fleshy tendrils hanging from her chin, lifting a mask. mangled arm, the reflection reached through the glass, grabbing for the girl, screaming, Help me! The girl shrieked and darted past the room and up the stairs bursting into her bedroom. Her parents flew in, wrapping her in the security of their arms and gentle hushes.

They asked her what happened, already knowing they shouldn't have let her watch the movie alone, but she kept claiming, Bloody Mary was trapped in the mirror and tried to grab her just now. They insisted it was all just a bad dream, and her dad, went down to check out the space to make sure it was all clear. When he returned, he reassured her everything was as it should be, and they were safe. Our mother cleaned her up and changed her nightgown, showering her with kisses and calming words. Her father plugged a nightlight in next to her bed and waited until she drifted off to sleep before returning to the master bedroom.

She tossed and turned, falling in and out of sleep. The red eyes from the movie and bloody skin of the mirrored image haunted her in waves. She woke multiple times, unclear if she was awake or dreaming, but found relief in the small light next to her bed. As she began to doze off again, she heard a faint tapping. Shaking her head, she convinced herself she must have been dreaming already. She rolled over to face the nightlight, a gentle glow through closed eyelids providing some comfort. Tap, tap, tap. Our eyes. Our eye, light, a gentle glow through closed eyelids providing some comfort. Tap, tap, tap, tap. Our eyes darted open as she frantically scanned the space in front of her, searching for the source, but there was nothing. Then came the familiar whimper from behind her,

the same small sound as before. The girl's eyes grew wide as she realized her bedroom mirror was across the room behind her. Could Mary travel through the looking glass? Did she follow her to her room? A girl tucked her head under her covers slowly. and contorted her body to lie flat on her stomach, trying to blend in with the pillows and stuffed animals around her. The whimper came again, the same words as before. Please, the voice pleaded. You summoned me here. Please help me. The girl slowly moved her hand along the mattress up to her face.

She ran her fingers under the edge of the cover and lifted the blankets slowly to peer out from under it. Her silhouette from the nightlight behind her filled the wall across the way, casting a large, dark shadow on the mirror that sat atop her dresser. She couldn't see anything in the mirror. It was too dark. There was no sign of the monster. The girl laid there completely still, listening to the night, waiting for silent confirmation that she was in a lucid state. Then there was a thud on the floor, the sound of feet pitter-pattering across carpet. She quickly pulled the blanket back down over her face. Hello?

The small voice said again, this time closer. The girl covered her own mouth to keep her fright from seeping out. She could hear the carpet fibers compacting underfoot. The steps grew closer and closer to her. Then it fell silent again. The girl laid there shaking under the covers. She kept her hand over her mouth as tears streamed down her face. She slowly moved her other hand across the mattress again

to the edge of her blanket to peer out. She lifted the fibers ever so slightly, a sliver of her bedroom in sight, but no sign of the girl from the mirror. She chewed on her bottom lip, hesitating to move, but raised the blanket a little higher to examine her room.

It appeared to be empty, and her ears were met with silence again. No girl, no tapping, no whimpers. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath in and slowly breathed. out. Another vivid nightmare was all. She rolled onto her side, inched the covers down, her face,

feeling the cold air hit her nose and breathed it in deeply to calm herself. She peeked out from the slits of her eyelids and was met with the face of Mary just inches from her own. Mary forced the girl to her back, gripping her arm and pushing down harder on her mouth, her hand sliding side to sighed in the slickness of the blood as she drowned the girl's cries. A metallic taste seeped onto the girl's tongue as the blood oozed from the fleshy hand through her pursed lips, pieces of skin brushed across her cheeks, leaving trails of red behind as the girl struggled against the weight of the figure. Mary leaned in closer until the girl was face to face with her seemingly bottomless holes for eyes. In a deep, sinister tone,

Bloody Mary leaned in and said, What beautiful skin you have. For your bonus episode, creepy presents cold shivers, written by Hopeless Nightdowl. This happened decades ago, when I was in middle school or junior high, as I called it back done.

I understand if you're skeptical, but respectfully, I'm not really interested in having a logical debate about the merits of my story. At the end of the day, either you're someone who believes this type of thing could happen, or you're not. It was the beginning of October.

My friend Kyle and I had spent several hours going through one of the local haunted corn maze attractions. The first few times, we had the time of our lives. But by the fifth or sixth time through, it was starting to get old. We thought about switching to another haunted attraction in the area, but Kyle had another idea.

He said we should sneak into the maze at the local botanical garden. We were both latchkey kids who were into trespassing for fun, so I didn't have any ethical objections, but I didn't see the point in it. That's when he told me about a being called the clipper. The clipper? Like garden clippers? I gotta say, that's pretty lame.

What's next? Are you going to take me to the cemetery so we can look for the shovel? I scoffed. You're laughing now, but I heard he stalks the maze at night and kills anyone he catches in his maze after hours. They say he carries a big pair of clippers to torture his victims, he rebutted. Just who are they? And how did they know any of this? Wouldn't it be in the news if that happened even once?

Where does he go when it's not nighttime? What about when they let people into the garden at night for Halloween and Christmas? Where is he done? We did this dance back and forth, but Kyle convinced me to go. I didn't have anything better to do that night, and we had all October to go to haunted houses. The botanical garden was close enough for us to walk there. I never honestly expected to find the clipper. Kyle was academically quite smart, but he was kind of stupid and he was.

other ways. I suspected some kid at school I decided to prey on his gullibility by telling him this ridiculous story of a slasher who stalks the maze. As cliche as it may sound, we got over the fence by climbing a tree. We were in luck. The maze was nearby. It was a fairly warm and still night. We barely even needed our long-sleeved shirts. I was more concerned about being caught trespassing than encountering any sort of supernatural being, although it wouldn't have been the first time. If this glipper fellow was hiding in the maze, it wouldn't take us long to find him. It was way smaller than the corn maze.

Look up pictures of botanical garden hedge mazes. This maze wasn't any bigger than those. But still, it was honestly kind of nice being there after dark. The maze was very well kept. with an area twiggerly visible on the path. The full, or almost full moon, gave it a very tranquil atmosphere. We saw an owl bathing in the fountain that served as a centerpiece of the maze before seeing us and flying off, which was pretty cool.

We also found a snake crossing one of the narrow pathways. Even if there was no slasher monster around, it was interesting to see how the place could come alive at night in its own small ways. I did feel a slight cold shiver a few times, but I didn't pay it any mind. We walked the maze several times over, keeping our voices hushed just in case there was security around. Maybe an hour in I suggested exploring the rest of the garden. But Kyle said he had to piss. Just go to the fountain, I told him, referring to the collection pool at the base of the fountain. He thought that was gross, so he opted to go on the hedges instead.

Well, we've been over this maze a bunch of times, and no sign of the clipper, I said when he was finished. I said we'd go check out the rest of this place. We were about to do so when we saw him. The clipper, for who else could it be, merely took a small step from where he was standing to reveal his presence. He, it, I'm going with he, had been standing there the whole time. but we didn't notice him until he moved.

He just blended in with the maze, I guess. He was tall, taller than the maze itself, and slender and cloaked and green robes that covered his body head to toe. I assume he had hands, because he was holding a pair big, menacing, almost comically oversized pruning shears. I'm pretty sure I always got that slight chill feeling whenever we were at that same spot at the fountain, how would we miss him?

The clipper made no noise as he began walking toward us. He didn't stagger like monsters in the movies. His gate was perfectly even and graceful. Needless to say, we weren't looking for any reason to stick around. Like I said, the maze was small, so we were out of it in seconds, but we didn't stop running until we were back at the garden fence. I looked back once before we found another tree and climbed back over. The clipper was standing there at the mouth of the maze, facing our direction,

before turning around and walking back into it. You may have several questions at this point. How could we fail to notice the clipper in such a small maze when he was taller than the hedges? Where did he go during the day? How had no one else ever discovered him? How could he be real when my friend, or someone he knew more or less made up his existence. Well, these kids are fond of saying, I got nothing.

Like I said in the beginning, it's your choice if you want to believe me or not. But I stand by my story. If you follow a magical thinking philosophy, maybe Kyle's own belief in the Clipper somehow made him real. But he definitely was real in that moment, not just a figment of our imagination. I actually went back to the maze years later as an adult during the day. There was, of course, no sign of the clipper,

but I never once doubted the reality what Kyle and I had experienced. One lingering side effect of our little adventure was that haunted houses and corn maze has lost their appeal to us. They just suddenly failed to deliver the adrenaline rush we were after. For more information on this podcast, including how to submit your own story for consideration. Please visit creepypod.com. You can also follow us at creepypod on social media and YouTube.

All stories told on this podcast are done so through Creative Commons share-a-like licensing or with written consent from the authors. No portion of this podcast may be rebroadcast or otherwise distributed without the express written consent of the creepy podcast production team and the stories author.