Creepy - Day 22 - Room Zero

Episode Date: October 22, 2017

About Disney...***Support the podcast and get rewards at Patreon.com/CreepyPod***Written by: Slimebeast***Protected by Creative Commons License CC-By-NC***Sound design by Steve Blizin 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 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 22. Room Zero

Written by Slime Beast. This story is protected by Creative Commons license CC by NC. It's been a while since I've written anything related to the Disney Corporation. And I'm sure you can understand why. A lot's been going on since my last post. I've received a lot of questions and concerns from folks who read my first-hand account of Mowgli's Palace, a resort that was built and abandoned by Disney. I want to thank everyone who mirrored my post.

It's been taken down from a few places, mostly corporate sites that were easily leaned on by a larger power. However, for every nuke topic or disappearing blog post, it seemed like a hundred more have popped up. This is something they'll have to face. There's no turning back for them. None for me either. I'm definitely being followed. For the first month or two, I chucked it up to paranoia. Any casual glance or half-smile in my direction set me off.

Hair standing on the back of my neck and everything. The first one, or rather the first one I was actually able to spot, was a telephone worker milling around my apartment complex. He was middle-aged, doughy, dressed just as you'd expect. but something just seemed off about him. I couldn't place it, but I knew this wasn't just my imagination acting up. He was awkward and out of place, not somebody who was comfortable doing his routine job. I followed him around a corner only to lose him there.

When I turned to go back home, there he was, staring directly at me about 10 feet behind me, expressionless and cold. Exploring, he asked. That was all he said. And there was an accusing tone to his voice. Tell me, what blue-collar phone jockey does that? I guess that's the worst part. Never feeling safe, never feeling alone.

That and the again, the exact. occasional Disney merchandise left somewhere for me to find. Little rubber mickeys in the mailbox, a Disney Adventures magazine on my bookshelf. They hide little Mickey's everywhere. Three circles. One big, too small, in the silhouette of the famous mouse's head. I've started keeping a running list of Mickey's I've found. Coffee cup rings on my coffee table.

One big, too small. Colorglass bottles left on the doorstep viewed from the top down, all red. Graffiti on the wall on my way to work. A huge earth, small sun and moon in the proper locations. They're everywhere. People have emailed me about this as well. If you repost anything I have to say, you're going to start finding those son-of-a-bitch outlines. I guarantee it.

The best one by far. The one that actually made me laugh because of the one. of the horror of it all, was a drawing in chalk next to my car. I was taken aback at first, walking through the parking garage, keeping an eye over people following me. The outline seemed a perfect match for, well, a murder victim you're probably familiar with if you've read my past posts. Written in yellow, paint, I'm sure, was a single word. Retract. The only good thing that's come out of all of this is that I know I'm not the only one who's seen something they shouldn't have. I'm not going to give their names because, well, if I have to tell you why, you haven't been paying attention.

Researcher goes to Disney Parks whenever he can all throughout the year. He's not going to have fun, enjoy the rides, etc. He's looking for the gascots. There's been a long tradition, apparently, of people reporting students. strange patrons throughout the park. Silent, motionless, staring patrons of every age, shape, and size. Men and women, adults, children, teens, all wearing Disney-themed gas masks. Way back when Disney would get tons of complaints about oddly dressed folks following others around the park.

Folks would then merge into crowds and disappear. Later on, the gas masks caused folks to draw their conclusions and reports of possible terrorists and bombers started flowing. All those reports most likely went straight into the trash can. I know I can't find any sign of any such occasions reported on by the media. Although you should be aware of the fact that Disney can pretty much control its press like no other, researcher goes to the parks, talks with a few people, and tries not to draw any attention to himself. He'll just ask three or four families if they've seen his friend who's wearing a funny mask.

He's yet to see a gascott for himself, though on one occasion, a child pointed him toward Frontier Town. As he raced through the crowd, he heard a single voice a head cry out, Mommy, I want a goofy air mask too. A fellow I'll call Lifeguard, worked in a Disney Water Park from 2001 through 2003. He stood at the top of a huge water slide and made sure none of the kids got too rowdy. He passed the kids through, one at a time, telling them over and over again to be saved, keep their arms in, and so on. One day, as he tells it, this fat kid goes down the tube and doesn't come out the other end.

He sent two or three kids after. The whole thing moves at a steady clip, so naturally you'd expect that if fatty got stuck, the kids that followed him were stuck too. Not so. Only the big kid disappears Everyone else comes out the other end cheering and splashing like nothing's wrong Life card shuts down the slide

Much to the aggravation of the kid's waiting Before he can go through any of Disney's strict procedures Splash Faddy finally comes out Staff members pulled the kid out of the water He sank like a stone when he hit His skin already blew and his eyes wide All he would say was

no face kids and stop squeezing. The kid was okay in case you're wondering. He got carted right off to the medical center. When Lifeguard was told to open the slide back up, he made a big stink about how it clearly wasn't safe. Despite his complaints, he was threatened with firing and begrudgingly opened the slide again. From that point on, he kept a closer eye on the kids.

every so often they'd come out in the wrong order. Never as stunned as a fat kid, but always with a vague look of concern. A dreamy, half-stupor that seemed as if they were trying to figure out what was reality. They'd take on some water and choke a bit, and they'd never come back up to ride again. I read his emails with the same sort of unease you might be feeling right now. I wanted him to share his own story, but in the end, he didn't want to expose himself that way. I can't say I blame him.

Snow White, which wasn't the actual role she played, was a character in the park. She had a nice little tidbit for me. You know what happens when a costume employee drops dead in his suit? Like one second he's taking a picture with little Jimmy and the next he's had a fatal stroke? A second costume mascot in the area has to sit with a corpse on a curb or bench and wait for a designated dry cleaner

to arrive and cart the body away in a discreet manner. All the while, patrons have no idea they're sitting with a dead body for photo ops. Feel free to check your photo albums at this point. That was bad. But another fellow, janitor, went completely off the creepy charts. Disney World and probably others, It built with a series of underground tunnels just below your feet. Three stories worth.

Anything and everything you can imagine is down there for use of the employees. They're called utilitors, utility corridors. Basically, that's the reason you don't see characters out of place or janitors wandering through the park. They pop in and out of hidden doors and travel a concealed town you're walking on. Janitor told me something that might become a knowledge. but was nonetheless news to me. Walt Disney had several apartments built into his parks. There's one above Cinderella's castle.

There's one in the Pirates of the Caribbean ride. They're all over the place. More than that, there are nightclubs, a movie theater, bowling alley, and much more. All behind doors built right into the whimsical facades you pass by without a second look. Club 22 is one such hidden area. If you have the cash to join the exclusive club, you don't.

Then you'll have access to it and much more. Club 22 is a place where anything goes. Disney Co. calls these places dark zones. Spots where the squeaky clean visage of Mickey Mouse gives way to drinking drugs and, yes, sex. Conversely, the rest of the park is the bright zone, with a few gray zone utilitors between. As far as Janitor has said, it wasn't always that way. It was more of a slow decline in the gradual relaxation of social norms within that elite group. The reason he knows all this?

You may have already guessed. He's cleaned it. After lengthy background check in a non-disclosure form, Janitor moved up from a park attendant to one of the dark zone cleaning crew. Now, before you get some satanic human sacrifice vision in your head, janitor saw nothing of the sort Lots of empty alcohol bottles Yes

Used condoms scattered like depleted New Year's balloons Oh yeah He cleaned up his share of blood, piss and vomit But it was all down to the unrestricted behavior of patrons As opposed to any sort of cult behavior At least that's how he sees it in retrospect All that trash That profane shit

Went into a furnace and mingled with a smoke Of a quaint cottage's chimney If you've been to Disney World, you've breathed ultra-condensed sin. Backing up this information was Hammer. Hammer mailed me the old-fashioned way, though I don't know how he got my home address. He sent me photocopies of work papers proving his employment, with the instruction to burn them when I was convinced, which I did gladly.

Hammer worked around the Disney Park, doing demolition and construction. At one point he approached a superior regarding some strange construction plans. There was a wide, rectangular area marked off on the blueprints, bought the size of a supermarket. The area was left unnamed and only bore the words, Do not dig. Not only was his superior in the dark, but he was super fucking purposefully in the dark.

He didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to know about it, and ended the conversation with, This space intentionally left blank. Hammer didn't get it. The area seemed to waste a space and was directly conflicting with the work his team had been given. He started poking around the area in his off time,

finding only a derelict steel door and great span of concrete just beyond. It was a supermarket's worth of blank, gray floor. Soon after, Hammer started picking gascots out of the crowd, Unlike all other reports, the people and the things would stand in full view of the guy. They'd cluster together in the distance, or they'd just be pressed against the wall when he turned a corner. He said they moved weird, like they were weak or injured, like a deer that's been run down by a hunter and can't flee anymore. The gas masks, the Disney character faces with filters jammed in.

He noted that they seemed wet on the inside, the condensation on the car window. Tiny beads of water glimmered behind the glass, making it impossible for any of them to actually see. Probing further, Hammer started asking questions of anyone and everyone who had been working in the park for a decade or more. He hit dead ends throughout, until he was directed to Ida, an elderly woman who worked in a restaurant on Main Street. She'd been there since way back. and though nobody had the balls to ask directly, everybody knew she had plenty of terrible stories to tell. Hammer asked about the empty space,

then about the gas mask customers, and at first he thought he would receive the same non-answers he's gotten so far. She was quiet, eerily quiet. Room zero. She croaked. A single shaking hand placed through her cheek as if she were a little girl fearing a father's punishment. She didn't meet the man's gaze for the entire conversation.

Room Zero, as it turned out, was yet another hidden room just like the apartments in Club 22. However, its sheer size and its spot deep beneath the park set it apart from any of the fun, dark zones. It was a bomb shelter. Room Zero was built to withstand a massive attack, be it conducted by foreign or domestic enemies. Room zero was to be stocked with enough rations to feed the entire park's average number of patrons at any given moment, and housed a smaller yet lavish panic room of sorts for

Disney higher-ups. During World War II, official Disney gas masks were actually produced for children to wear in the event of an attack. The idea was that it would be less scary for kids if Mickey's face was emblazoned on the wartime safety device. Yes, I know the obvious problem. with that. During the Cold War scare of the 60s, when Disney World was constructed, Room Zero was stocked with similar masks as well. Whether they cared about the fears of children or just callous branding, the things found their way down there. What's more, some genius decided that kids would then be frightened by the gas mask or parents wore. And so all masks, adult and child, were made to comply to this insane standard.

Ida described it as treating a wound with lemon juice None of this explained what hammered been seeing though Not only the seemingly supernatural appearances But the empty-dell room as well I've been there he explained There's nothing but a cement floor in four walls No

Ida shook her head and covered her mouth stifling a sob You've been on top of it Someone or something sounded the alarm one day when the park was at full capacity. The warning was clear. It was supposedly an air attack. Security ushered everyone down, down, down into the tremendous shelter. There they were ordered to put on their masks and hunkered down for the duration of the assault.

Everything was quiet for about 30 minutes, save for the crying children and the frightened whispers. No one wanted to die. So they were thankful in a way for this strange measure of safety. Then the first scream rang out. Hey! The man shouted, Quit pinching. Waves of shrieks and yelps rippled through the crowd from one wall to the other pack and forth.

Who's running around? Settle down. Someone hollered. Who's laughing? This isn't funny. Oh, who stepped on my foot. Despite security guards. urging to calm down and keep their cool.

The crowd became more and more agitated until finally, after nearly an hour of madness, the lights flickered, then died. What followed could only be described as utter chaos. In the dark, only the whales of the young and the anguish cries of adults could be heard in a massive swelling din that bled the ears of all within that black echo chamber. A group of staff members and a select few patrons made it. it out of the door, ready to face the war above rather than the insanity below. What they found, of course, was a desolate yet untouched theme park.

The music continued to play, echoing through silent storybook towns. Upon returning to room zero, the few who stood at the top of the steel staircase that led down into the pitch blackness, heard no sign of the previous fray. There was only silence. I had herself descend at the staircase despite the begging of those she left above. She reached the reinforced door, herself now awash in darkness and hearing only the buzzing in her ears. A single voice came out of the darkness. The echo made it impossible to tell whether the mocking, raspy voice was at the back of the bomb shelter,

or if it was right in front of her face. Shut the door. By terror, she did just that. Within days the entire thing, shelter, staircase, all of it, was covered with feet upon feet of cement. Air systems engendered as above its ceiling were removed, creating a large empty space. They're all still down there, Ida told Hammer.

Down there with whoever that was, you might notice I've used Ida's name. Unfortunately, she passed away soon after telling her story. Accidental fall, supposedly, after getting out of bed to turn out a light. Such a company devotee, the paper reported that her entire bedroom was covered with Mickey Silhouettes. 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. All stories told on this podcast can be found at creepypasta wiki.com. And are protected by a Creative Commons license. Some rights reserved unless otherwise stated. Thank you.