Creepy - Day 23 - I'm Trapped in the Last Hour of Halloween 1993 & Sweet Dreams

Episode Date: October 23, 2023

I'm Trapped in the Last Hour of Halloween 1993. Please Help Me***Written by: The Invisible Man on the Bus***Bonus episode: "Sweet Dreams" Written by: C.A. Verstraete and Narrated by: JV Hampton-VanSant***Sound design by: Pacific Obadiah***patreon.com/creepypod***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.

Has anyone seen John lately? I think I saw him in the kitchen this morning. Why? Well, I know we came here to make things a little bit easier on him this month, but he still seems pretty worn down, don't you think? He's been doing a lot of narrating and production stuff, so it's probably to be expected. Yeah, I mean, we've never actually all been together for the 31 days of horror.

So all I really ever know about what goes on is what? I hear from him. What about the fact that he said one of us was going to die? That was like three weeks ago. You know, you'd think if it were more important, we would have talked it up a little bit more recently? So we just pretend like it's another random thing John says and forgets about almost immediately after? You know, John's basically a walking continuity error. Remember when Joe and David were here for one story and then never referred to again? Or the fact that evidently you've been in this house before. I was young and impressionable. What?

Besides, he tells him he's going to kill me all the time. He does? All the time. Every year, John always start going on about stress and anxiety come August. I'm not surprised if he's been run a little bit ragged. He's away from his family and he's got to put up with a bunch of narrators all month. Sheesh. Yeah, that's probably what it is.

Plus, this house just feels off, doesn't it? Which part? The stories that appear in our heads? The constantly shifting floor plan? The increasing number of times when the veil between sanity and madness feels so thin that it could tear forever? Yes. Good, that's settled. Who wants to play hungry, hungry hippos?

I'll find him and have a talk with him. I think I heard him walking around upstairs. He might be going to do a... another story. Honestly, I don't think any of that's necessary. He's been writing a lot. I snuck into his room and took a look at his first draft. The title was a little pedantic. All work and no play makes John lose his grip on reality and slip into the abyss. Was it any good? Neh, predictable. He should stick to narrating. Shh, I think I hear him coming.

Hey, everyone. How's it going? John! What's going on? Oh, John, hey. How's it going? He's our fearless leader right there. Looks like they let anyone in here. Am I right?

You all were talking about me, weren't you? Oh, come on. Nah. Don't be silly. Talking about you. Not the slightest. No. Why would we?

You aren't a good writer. Ouch. Okay. Well, I'm going to head and do another story if anyone needs me. Now? Dude, that's my line. It's like all I got. Whatever.

No. 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 23 I am trapped in the last hour of Halloween 1993. Please help me. Written by the invisible man on the bus. Please don't delete this. If you're hearing this, that means I've succeeded in sending it, and you don't know how rare that is for me.

Not yet, anyway. Not until you finish listening, which I'm begging you to do so. I need you to understand, because I need your help. This isn't a scam, I promise you. Out of the handful of responses have gotten out all the messages I've sent, almost every one has dismissed me as, a scammer. Apparently, that's a really big thing these days, which I can understand. I know exactly how this sounds, but I'm not asking for money.

I'm just asking for help. Not even your help. Not really, unless I somehow chanced my way into finding an expert in quantum physics or whatever else would take to get me out of this. If you're not such an expert, all I need from you, get this message to someone who is. Find a university to send it to, an institute, whatever. Just see that it gets into the right hands.

Simple, easy. If those experts dismiss me, that's on them. You would have done your part. If you're still listening to this, thank you. I'll get started now in case you're close to reaching your limit. Here it goes. This is how I got trapped in this loop. It was Halloween 1993.

I worked at Lennox Tallman, a mid-size insurance company in an office building in Bennington, Rhode Island. I was an analyst. I won't bore you with the details other than to say I punched numbers into a computer all day. My parents couldn't understand a job like that, not even when I explained it to him. I can only imagine that kind of job you might be working today. if work even still exists with how productive computers are supposed to make everything eventually. I tried to remind myself how amazing it was that I got to work on a computer all day. But I'd never been all that interested in technology.

And it took everything I had some days not to pull my hair out with boredom. But I'd graduated just a few years after the crash 87 and I'd heard the horror stories. I felt lucky just to have a job. I guess it was this attitude that led me to volunteer to work overtime on Halloween night. That and the fact that I was single while most of my coworkers had kids they wanted to take out trick-or-treating, and I wanted to make sure they all could. I'm not bitter about my decision. I think it would have found me wherever I may end it up that night.

My boss was really cool about it. She gave me double time, since it was technically a holiday, and let me order in some pizza. All in all, it wasn't a bad night. The work, though urgent, wasn't too difficult. The pizza was great, and it was kind of exciting being all alone in the building. It wasn't a bad night until it was. I was still working and would have kept on working into November when it came 11 o'clock and the portal opened.

I figured it happened because it was the darkest hour of Halloween. and maybe the barriers between whatever are especially thin then. I don't actually know. The portal was a swirling vortex of absolute darkness, and a frigid breeze reeking a decay howled out of it. For a few seconds, nothing happened. I just stared at the portal, hovering halfway between the floor and the ceiling, just a few feet in front of my cube.

Then the creature stepped out. Beneath its black-hooded robes, it looked like a man, a tall man with wide, powerful shoulders, but all with impossible human proportions. While I was still frozen in disbelief, it reacted without hesitation. It pulled a knife with a thick curved blade out of its robes and slashed it at me with its long reach. It cut me deep across my chest,

and while I screamed in pain and shock, I saw the creature flick drops of my blood into the portal as if the knife were a paintbrush. The creature flicked the knife in the same way a few more times until the portal seemed to get enough of my blood and it flashed bright red. For a moment, the light from the portal was blinding, and I couldn't see it all.

I don't think I'll ever know for sure, but I think that was the moment I became trapped in the loop. By the time I recovered from the light, the portal will become darkness once more. The creature's eyes must have been more sensitive to light than mine, which makes sense considering where to come from. It stood slouched over and rubbing at its unseen eyes with its free hand. I was still seated at my desk, but I wasted no time.

I sprung up so fast my chair toppled over, and I sprinted through the crowded cube farm that was my office floor. Before long, I could hear the sound of heavy footsteps behind me the creature pursued me. My plan, if you could call it that, was to get downstairs to my car in the empty parking lot. I'm not sure if it's the right call to head towards the elevator in such a situation, but that's what I did.

Thankfully, the door was opened right after I pushed the button. Inside the elevator, I pressed the button for the lobby, then frantically and repeatedly pressed the button to close the doors. I was facing the creature now, and could see it coming closer and closer as I will the doors to close. Finally they did, and only just before the creature could burst between them. I heard it smash against the doors as the elevator began its descent. My body was buzzing with adrenaline.

I couldn't stop shaking. My floor was only the third floor, but there was a running joke in the office about how slow the elevators were. I was sure the creature would bound down the stairs and beat me to the lobby. But then I heard what sounded like fists pounding on metal above. Heavy thud after heavy thud. I couldn't believe it. The creature wasn't trying to catch me by taking the stairs or seemingly even trying to just call another elevator.

Did it think I was in some kind of room behind the doors? Did I not know what an elevator was? I still heard the thuds when the elevator doors opened and let me out at the lobby. I ran through the dimly lit empty space and ended the parking lot. My car was parked right up front in a reserve spot. Another perk my boss had given me that morning. I was still shaking so badly when I pulled my keys out of my pocket that I dropped them before I could unlock my door.

I crouched down and picked them up and before I stood again, I looked back up at my floor. The only lit up floor in the building. My eyes were drawn to its dark shape right away as it stood in the window, watching me. It had its head cocked to one side as if it didn't understand how I'd gotten outside. It didn't seem to have any sense of urgency anymore. It just stood there, watching me. I stood, unlocked my car, climbed in, and sped away before I even closed my door. I didn't look back at the building as a receded behind me and I didn't even close my door until I was a few blocks away. Even then I didn't slow down.

The streets were empty, and no one was out by then except for a small group of teens I saw egging a house. I didn't drive home. I was sure that both of my roommates would be there, and although they could drive me insane sometimes, enough that I've been looking into getting a place of my own, I didn't want to risk leading the creature to them. I drove straight in one direction for nearly 45 minutes, eventually passing through the towns I'd only vaguely heard of.

The only thought in my mind was to get as far away from the creature as possible. I finally parked in front of some 24-hour convenience store to catch my breath, so to speak. I don't know what I was supposed to do. I didn't want to call the police because I knew they wouldn't believe me, and I didn't want to put them in danger by potentially sending them straight towards the creature. I knew what I'd saw, though. The creature was a danger to anyone who came across it, and I had a duty to do something about that. I'd made up my mind to go into the convenience store to tell the clerk to call the police when I phoned myself sitting at my desk again.

Almost immediately the swirling black portal opened again. I was sprinting again toward the elevators before the creature stepped out a few seconds later. I reached the elevators and pushed the call button. The elevator doors again opened right away and somehow they closed again before the creature could extend a long arm between them. As a creature descended, I didn't hear the sound of the creature pounding on the doors this time. During the short ride down to the lobby, I dug my fingers into my hair and tried to figure out how I could possibly be back at the office. I'd gotten away, hadn't I? Of course I had.

The elevator let me off at the lobby. and there was the creature standing right in front of the elevator doors. It must have figured out where the stairs were and beat me down there. The creature grabbed me tightly with both of its mammoth hands before I could even hit the closed doors button. Maybe it was excited or maybe it just didn't know its own strength, but it squeezed me too hard. I could hear and of course feel bones snapping. I think it must have snapped my speed.

fine because I couldn't move. I lay limply in the creature's grasp and I struggled to breathe. After one ragged breath, I coughed blood all over the front of its robes. The creature stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the third floor. It even impatiently pressed the closed doors button. I was blacking out before we even got back to my floor. And I died while the creature sprinted with me in its arms towards the portal. Once again, I was back at my desk.

I was running before the poor leaving open, this time towards the stairs. I didn't have time to process the fact that I died, or that I was now without a doubt trapped in a loop. I just needed to get away. I ran down to the second floor. I opened the door as quietly as I could and closed it in the same way. I only just got to close before I heard the door to the third floor get yanked. opened so violently it may have been pulled from its hinges. I held my breath and stood behind the second floor door.

I heard the creature bound down the stairs, presumably toward the lobby. I stood there longer than I should have, and only moved when I heard the sound of shattering glass and crunching metal outside. I tentatively stepped towards the windows and saw the creature destroying my car with its bare hands. I hadn't taken the elevator like you may have expected me to. and I hadn't been in the lobby. If it couldn't find me right away,

it seemed to want to make sure I couldn't drive away. My office building isn't very big, but an hour also isn't very long to look. I knew a few good spots where I could hide from the creature. That night I squeezed myself behind the vending machines on the third floor. The machines have been placed in front of a little nook where I could more or less sit comfortably and still be well-housed. hidden. I heard a lot of banging and scraping outside, but I never heard the creature moving

around inside. It didn't seem to be looking for me, and I couldn't understand what it was doing. As scared as I was, an hour's a while to remain so terrified that you can't think, especially when the threat doesn't seem imminently close by. I started really thinking about how I died and the loop I seemed trapped in. I didn't know how it happened, only that it seemed to have started when that portal had opened, and as I was dying the creatures seemed to have wanted to get me through it before I did. What would have happened if I hadn't died first? Was I doomed to keep on reliving this nightmare forever without even the escape of death?

I didn't know. All I knew is I didn't want to be anywhere near that portal. Every instinct I had warned me that something horrific waited for me behind it. I didn't know for sure that each loop was an hour yet. I remembered it being around midnight when the first one had ended, and I died too soon during the last one. My watch now told me it was still Halloween, and in the 11 o'clock hour. I watched as the last few seconds of 1159 ticked away

and was back at my desk again before my watch could change. to midnight. It turned out that the creature had been sealing me inside the building while I'd been hiding. I soon found out it had jammed all the exit doors shut and warped the metal panes of the first floor windows so I couldn't open them to escape. Things that I did during one cycle reset before the next, whether that was knocking over a chair or dying. But it seemed what the creature did, it didn't reset. I remained trapped in the building, and my car remained destroyed. I wondered why the creature didn't just destroy the elevator and the door to the stairs as well, trapping me on my floor with the portal. I'm sure I would have thought of that like it eventually

did everything else. All I can think is maybe it had to chase and pursue me. Maybe that was somehow a part of whatever it was trying to do. Maybe the more afraid I was, the best of the best of the better. For a while, my strategy was just to hide. I only ever had that few second heads start on the creature at the beginning of each cycle, so I had to be fast and smart. I varied what I did as best as I could to try to throw the creature off. I ran to different floors, double-backed, found more and more creative hiding spots, but the creature was relentless and tearing the office apart looking for me. For a while, I was able to stay out of its sight. but it steadily destroyed the best hiding places.

Eventually I ran out entirely, and when I was sure it was on the fourth floor, I smashed a window on the first, jumped out and ran as fast as I could. With every stride, I was sure that the creature was going to catch me. It took everything I had not to look back. Looking back would have only slowed me down, and while I'd never been much of a runner,

I'm sure I would have made my old gym teacher proud that night. I ran straight past the group of teens. They were now egging a house a few blocks away from the house and seen them making on the first cycle. Even though it had only technically been 20 hours before, it felt like another lifetime. I didn't bother trying to ask the teens for help. I knew I wouldn't get any.

They threw a couple eggs at me, but they all missed. My plan was to call my roommate. at Allen. He was always really into science fiction and while I figured I needed an actual scientist, I hoped he could point me in the right direction. I knocked on every door of every house I could find that still had a light on. Only a handful answered. A nail turned me away until finally an older couple allowed me to use their phone. I tried calling home first. I tried it a few times, but neither of my roommates ever answered. They were either a son. They were either a son. sleep, the most likely option, or they'd actually gone to a Halloween party for once.

After that, I called every number I could remember. But no matter how many people I tried or how I varied my story, no one believed me, let alone offered any useful advice. My mom had been concerned that I've been drinking. Finally, the couple had grown impatient and asked me to leave. After they closed the door behind me, I saw the creature standing across the street, staring at me. I don't know how long it had been there

or why it hadn't tried to give me while I'd been inside the house. Maybe it couldn't get me while I was with other people. Maybe my best option would have been to try and get back inside the house. Maybe. But I didn't think of that then.

I just took off running down the street. I soon rounded around the street corner and a pickup truck plowed right into me. I wish I could say I died instantly. I also wish I could say I didn't feel any pain, but neither would be true. I lingered long enough to remember the creature scooping me up again, this time much more gently and sprinting back towards the office. It had to have been running faster than an Olympian, but it didn't matter.

I think I died before we even got back to the parking lot. I think I knew I'd reach the end of the line then, and that this would finally be the cycle. At this time, the creature would get me into the portal. I had nowhere else to hide, and had been getting harder and harder to shake the creature each cycle. I knew it would be sticking close to me this time. I tried to accept it, to ignore my instincts that still screamed at me to stay as far away from that portal as possible. But I couldn't. I refused to die for real.

The creature was right behind me as I ran to the door to the second floor. I knew I couldn't get away from it, so I started throwing any remotely heavy object I could grab off a desk at it. For the first time, I was fighting back. A little good it did, though. No matter what I threw it, the creature, where I hit it, it seemed to be invulnerable. It just kept coming, and soon it grabbed me tightly again. I managed to grab a letter opener before it could bind my hands to my sides.

The creature pulled me back through the door and under the stairs. I struggled in its grasp as it climbed. When we got to the third floor, I kicked it as hard as I could in its thigh. The creature hissed in its grip on me slack just enough that I was able to plunge the letter opener into its stomach. Black liquid as hot as tar spilled out, scalding my hand. I screamed and kicked. I must have tripped a creature because suddenly we were tumbling forward down the stairs.

All the way down to the lobby level, we fell, smashing on a stair after stair. This time I knew I broke in my spine because I lay it there unable to move it all at the bottom of the stairs, and on top of the creature for the rest of the hour, longest hour in my life. I weased and struggled for every breath while the creature made no sound at all. When the next cycle finally came, the creature did not come out of the portal again. But this time it fell instead of stepping out. It landed hard on the floor on its side and then rolled onto its back. The hood of its robe had fallen off its head, revealing its face for the first time.

It was bald and had shimmering purple scales for skin. Its three yellow eyes were open and blank. If its eyes hadn't made a clear tumio, it was the same. dead, its neck dead. It had been snapped sideways so that its head rested against its shoulder. A few vertebrae were visible, bulging out from beneath its scales. From then on, every cycle was the same. The creature would fall dead out of the portal. In a way, I guess it makes sense. The creature had never seemed to be trapped in the loop like I was. The things it did never got reset like they did for me. So when it had died, it had died for good. With the creature dead, I was now

free, even though I was still trapped. Over the many, many cycles since, I've tried everything I could think of. I've called every university, institute, and company that I thought could even remotely help me, and whose number I could find. Of course, because it's almost past 11 o'clock, I've almost never gotten a response. The few responses I have gotten aren't even worth mentioning. I've scoured through the scientific and paranormal collections of the local library, which I can reach on foot, and libraries further out that I've been able to reach in a stolen car.

I also found a few houses with access to the World Wide Web that wasn't as restricted as computers at my office. I've learned a bit about the theory of time loops and theoretical ways to get out of mine. but nothing I have the power to actually do myself. I did find the emails of universities, institutes, and some companies I thought could help me. By the time I figured out how to send an email within the loop, they must have all gotten new email addresses, because none of my messages to them have been delivered.

I went to my apartment a number of times. Alan and my other roommate, Kelly, were both asleep. Alan turned out to be exceptionally useless. I guess that's a mean thing to say, but it looks like I'm still upset enough about it to not delete it. I've tried driving as far and fast away from the portal as possible in every direction in the hopes that I could escape the portal's range and get out of the loop. I've gotten more than a hundred miles away a bunch of times, but it's never mattered. I've gone through phases of trying to be the best person possible.

That somehow that was the key to escaping the power of the portal. I looked for situations where I could help people, big or small. On two separate occasions, I found and returned two different dogs from two lost pet posters I saw. Time and time again, I cleaned the houses that the teens agged. I discovered a burning house a few blocks from the office, and plenty of times I saved everyone inside. None of it ever mattered, so I've also descended into phases of nihilism. Nothing seemed to matter, so why not just do whatever I wanted? I won't describe the things I did.

Part of me thinks I deserve whatever's waiting for me behind the portal because of them. I'm just glad I never used the creature's hand to commit any of those awful acts. See, the body of the creature rotted away a long time ago. Now it's his bones in a robe. I'm just glad the smell is gone. While there was still plenty of putrid flesh hanging on the creature's hand, I had an idea. I saw the creature's hand off at its wrist and typed a sentence on my computer with it. When the next cycle came, the message was still there.

Turns out that whatever I'd do with the creature's hand will remain that away every cycle. That's how I got the car I stole to always remain parked in front. And how I've saved this message. It would have been a pain to record. this over and over again. I only knew a few people who did, so I ran out of context very quickly. Not that it mattered since all those early emails failed to send.

I kept trying, though, since I had and have nothing but time. I didn't know what day it was outside the portal, that is, when the first email went through, until I saw the timestamp on the nearly immediate response. October 31st, 1997, 11.18 p.m. The person I had emailed, they'd been an old co-worker, and they'd called me a sick creep playing a disgusting joke. Since they thought I was impersonating myself

on the fourth anniversary of my disappearance, I tried emailing back and emailing the rest of my tiny contact list, but no other emails went through. Cycle after cycle, I tried with no luck. I thought of the timestamp on the response. It had been the darkest hour of Halloween. Maybe emails could only get through during that one hour a year outside the cycle. Using the creature's hand to write, I kept a log all the cycles that passed until I knew it was the darkest hour of Halloween, 1998.

I got three emails to send that year. To the following, then. None at all for the next two years. It's like that for some reason. Some years I've been able to send out as many as five emails, while others none at all. I don't know why, but it makes the fact that you did receive this message

all the more meaningful. I have no idea who you are. I've taken to sending these messages to random accounts now that no one on my old contact list ever responds anymore. I'm just glad one person responded to him. me, basically laughing at me for emailing an address from such an obsolete email service provider, and suggested I, quote, try a few from this century. I didn't appreciate the snark, but at least you did write down a number of providers.

You don't owe me anything, but still, please help me. I'm beginning to think stepping through the portal is the only way out of this. I'm not sure how much more I can take before I actually do. John, can we talk? About? I just want to check in and see if you're okay. Why wouldn't I be? You don't have to pretend.

We've all noticed that you've been a little off lately. We feel the same way. But you're taking on the lion's share of the work in October, and I wanted to make sure that whatever this house is doing, Isn't messing with you too much. Danielle, I... Quick! Everyone run! We don't have much time left!

John? What are you talking about? Sorry. It just felt like something I was supposed to suddenly say out of nowhere at the moment. It's weird when no one else joins in. Um, sure. Danielle, I'm fine. Really.

Like the Bard said, we all go a little mad sometimes. Did you just... refer to Norman Bates as the Bard? Norman Bates said that? I thought it was Billy Loomis. Both are wrong. Anyway, it was Shakespeare. Shakespeare said we all go mad sometimes?

Man, first a dude invents the word cuckold, then a couple hundred years later it gets misused by morons. Now this. Is there anything the man can't do? You mean other than write his own plays? Ah, somewhere out there my college literature professor is so upset right now. You mean beyond being a college lip professor? Don't you have an English lit degree, John?

So, Frederick, how are they hanging? You seem to be in a good mood, John. Yeah, man, I'm actually feeling a lot better. Just took me all longer than I expected to adjust to the place. Danielle, you mind if I have a word alone with Frederick? Sure. She thinks I'm going insane. Are you?

I don't know. I've learned it's just best to let them think what they'll think. The more I argue, the more they seem to think I'm constantly thinking of some way to get rid of them. Like burying someone underneath a freshly dug grave, so when the casket is lowered, their body is lost forever? That's kind of basic, bro. Well, like, of course, this depends on the size of the body. You buy one or several of those realistic sex dolls. And it's just a matter of tribute.

This looks like to a landmark. I can feel them under my teeth burrowing deeper. I don't know why you're all or acting like this. Come on, he's so nice. He obviously just wants to be friends with us and keep us safe. That's why he needs the chains. It's happening. She was right.

Jesus God, no. Balls in a roof. Step three, prophets. You know what I mean? I thank all that is holy that I don't know what you mean. That may be the single worst thing I've ever heard in my life. And I own Stephen Seagall's album. The one where he has a Jamaican accent for some reason?

Dude. Do you need a hug? I do. Yes. Well, that was nice. Thank you. You're welcome. Ah, crap, but I forgot JV. has a story to record.

I'll be right back. There was something I wanted to talk to you about before we wrap things up this week. I wait with baited breath. There is something wrong with that guy. For your bonus episode, creepy presents. Sweet Dreams. Written by CA Vostrotti and narrated by J.V. Hampton Van Sant.

The wind whistled through the eaves, the tree branches making a scratching sound against the worn wood siding of the old manse. But inside, all remained calm. Only a small little whimper here and there disturbed the quiet. I stared through the window at the small still bodies lying in the dim room.

Flashes of the darkes of, lightning made the shadows dance on the walls, yet they slept. Good, good. A deep inhale told me their sweetness remained. None of the others had been here yet. Floating through the window pane, I hung in the air, waiting for the tiny newborns to wake. A couple stirred and went back to sleep. One twitched in discomfort.

Its face puckered as it began to cry. I sucked in its fear before moving to the next crib. Hmm. Better than honey. Then another woke, and instead of crying, the tiny boy looked at me, really looked. His big blue eyes widened. He seemed to see me.

The tag on the end of the bed held a name. Tommy. I smiled. A sense of recognition stirred. Yes, yes. This was the one. The little boy gave one last soft cry before falling asleep. My sense of contentment grew as I nestled under his crib,

waiting for the next night and the coming day when I'd follow him home. For from now on, you see, we belonged to each other. Tommy's doting parents, first-timers who tried to cater to their new baby boys every moan and mule, soon learned that sometimes there was. no answer to a newborn's discomfort. No reason emerged for his colic and fits of crying in the night. It wasn't a wet diaper or hunger, not gas, not being too hot or too cold. After several consultations and tests, the doctors could find nothing wrong or out of the ordinary either. Only a fussy baby. You'll grow out of it.

they said. Hopefully he wouldn't. What they couldn't see was the baby had a mighty big fear of me, which was good, as it kept me alive. Things went well for quite a long time.

Each night I transformed, switching from the bulky body that slept beneath his bed, to my lighter, ghostly form. Floating out from under his crib, I hung in the air, waiting. It took but a few minutes. The baby scrunched up his face and let out a soft sob, and then a wall of fear.

I sucked it in fast before his parents rushed in to comfort him and stop his cries. at least for a while. Those few moments we shared each night felt like heaven. Before Tommy's mother came in to settle him down, I would cast those long, eerie shadows on the wall, frightening him to burgeoning whales, that soon kept both parents up for hours in search of something,

anything, to calm him. Finally, eventually, the exhausted parents would get little Tommy to sleep, but not until I had a good fill of the terror that radiated from his tiny body like heat from a blazing furnace. Of course, I had to perfect my scare techniques as my little charge grew older. My ghostly tentacles moved across the walls in shadow, the forms lengthening as he became a curious toddler. I upped my game as he turned two. They don't call it the terrible twos for nothing, you know. Sure, I'd heard the tales from the others who'd found themselves literally out in the cold,

shivering from exposure without a warm house and a cozy bed to sleep under, their days and nights spent alone and hungry. Oh, so hungry. Why? I asked again and again. Why didn't you hang on? We couldn't, they told me. Once your child stops believing, you are dead to them. You have no choice but to leave. I didn't believe them.

Why would I? The relationship between me and my boy had never been better. He woke, I fed, the cycle continued as it should, though we did hit some difficult times later. By the time Tommy turned four, he no longer cried in his sleep. The dark, open closet scared him a little, but didn't send him into hysterics. His fearful outbursts came less often. It took more time and more work to shake him out of a deep slumber and give him a scare

that offered me more than a small bite. Where once I'd feasted on long, refreshing wails of fear, now I struggled to elicit enough of his terrors to quell the increasing hunger pangs. I chomped my fangs in desperation, the hunger gnawing like a festering wound in my ever-shinking gut. It was a phase, I reasoned. He'd likely grow out of it, so I told myself.

But the slimming down of my bulk couldn't be ignored any longer. No one had to tell me this wasn't a good sign. The legends passed around in my community for decades provided little comfort. When your stomachs start shrinking, you may already be beyond help, one story said. Once your child is no longer afraid, it may be too late, said another. If they quit believing, you've waited too long. I didn't believe it. I couldn't. After I transformed again into my monstrous form and slipped back under the bed with room to spare, I noticed.

I tried to figure out where to find answers. So, what's the solution? My roar of anger shook the bed, causing the boy to moan in his sleep. But it wasn't enough to. draw me out as I pondered what to do. It's too hard to move from family to family. I mused. It's too hard to keep looking for a new kid to feed from.

There has to be a better way. Finally, I switched forms and floated out into the night air, angry at the lack of answers, angry that maybe, just maybe, the stories were true, especially the big one. The missing cousin story. Everyone in our monstrous community had heard a story about the cousin that had disappeared, a scary tale meant to keep us on the right path. To me, it had always seen. sounded like an urban legend.

My cousin, as the story goes, hadn't heeded the warnings either. She'd kept up her tricks, fighting to stay scary enough, even as the little girl she haunted lost her fear of the strange shadows on the wall and the thing hiding in the recesses of a dark closet. The girl had begun reading spooky books,

and got more scares from a goose-bump story than the imaginary monster under the bed. The girl kept her imagination stoked with other things like spooky movies, locking out the monster that fed on those fears. And so the story goes, my cousin had melted away, never to be seen or heard from again. again. That won't happen to me, I vowed. It simply wasn't real. But, and this was a big question, Mark,

how could I stop what had been the normal course of things until now? Kids grew out of their childhood fears. They got older. They become adults. The days and weeks ticked by. I watched Tommy grow less timid and more confident. Why, he even let his foot hang over the edge of the bed outside the warmth and protection of his heavy blanket.

To my horror, he no longer jumped or even cried out when I touch his cold toes with my furry fingers. This, oh, oh, this was unbelievable, the horror of it. This latest turn of events made my heart pound in ways I'd never felt before. What in the world was I going to do? I flitted out the window and floated down into other buildings in the neighborhood, managing to suck out some fresh tendrils of fear from a few other kids caught in night terrors and teens stuck in nightmares. This new method was exhausting, though.

The listening for a sudden cry in the nights, the rush to find its owner, the disappointment at arriving and seeing another of my kind had gotten there first. And so it went, back and forth, up and down, from street to street, and block to block, the chase seemingly endless. In the hunt, I managed to barge in on some fresh nightmares and snagged a few morsels. It sufficed, but it wasn't enough. My belly grew smaller and smaller. I couldn't keep this up for long.

By now, Tommy was in middle school, pretty much out of my reach. Meaninglessness beckoned. Would I actually fade out of existence? Then came an answer I'd never expected. Our nature had always been to feed only on the young and innocent. And then it came to me. I suddenly realized the problem is humans grow up, and they come full circle. The results weren't as tasty or as satisfying as the innocent fears of a child, but life goes in cycles, I found.

I began haunting the old people's home. Many of the old ones had that childlike quality our kind favored. The delusions and deliriums of those in various stages of dementia became the only clue to my presence. I feasted upon those unspoken fears, blanketing the older people who sat forgotten and alone in their rooms at night. I fed from the tears soaking their pillows, each sweet droplet giving me

new life. And then they died, leaving me alone again. But my situation didn't last for long. Off I'd go to the next room, the patient in the bed watching me with ever-widening eyes, their fear spewing forth in murmurs and whispered denials. I fed. For years. Of course, the real problem I learned is that people's once trusting childlike belief in things outside themselves could never be replaced. Even in their so-called golden years, when parts of their mind told them what they saw was all too real, Their failing communication skills only exacerbated the problem. That's when the staff came in, vials and IV bags in hand,

medicating the patients who grew too troublesome and combative because of me. The pharmaceuticals quieted them true, but also escalated their internal fears. Could I make use of that, I wondered? Death interrupted the cycle, with humans dying way too soon. But that didn't stop me. I surveyed the many, many rooms of the nursing homes, and convalescent centers in wonder.

I noticed many more centers under construction and others newly opened or in the planning. Could it be? Maybe. Just maybe. I'd actually found the solution. The real fountain of youth. Why, here, I could really live forever. To my surprise, some of the old-timers actually began to believe again, evidenced by their increasing cries in the night.

Now, I just had to figure out a way to reach beyond their medically induced fogs and grab hold of the real fears, hiding deep within their aging bodies. I licked my lips and rubbed my furry hands together before waving through the doorway at the patient who'd just been booked into the new center I'd decided to visit. The look of shock and confusion on a face so familiar, even if a bit weathered, pleased me. I grew downright giddy, seeing the dark plume of fear radiating from him.

I flew closer and breathed deep. It tasted so, so sweet, just like strawberry ice cream. I sucked it in, anticipating more when night came. and I could nestle under his bed and wait for our special time together. Waggling my fingers in his direction, I smiled and let my true form shine through for a brief moment. My long, pearly fangs glimmered. The old guy stared at me, eyes as big as big as long. dinner plates and began to whine.

Ah, yes, there it was. Ambrosia. See you later, Tommy, my old friend. Sweet dreams, I whispered. Sweet, sweet dreams. I've just finished dropping off the last of the supplies for the week. I did have a chance to speak with the others, and they all seem to be doing relatively well. Relative to what?

Interesting. Well, you are all still forming coherent sentences. That's not bad, considering how long you've been here. At this point, where does the science experiment, aren't we? Oh, no, not at all. I'm rooting for you. Is it because I only paid you half the money up front? Uh, no.

Okay, well, I did want to ask you a favor. If you get a chance, would you mind dropping in from time to time this week just to make sure things are still going okay? Should I have a chat with anyone? Please, don't. That's just more audio for me to deal with. No, I was just hoping that maybe you could check in on me from time to time. Is everything all right? Yeah.

Yeah, I think so. I think I've been sleepwalking, though. The narrators have mentioned conversations with me that I don't remember. Sometimes I get confused about where I am, like I'm doing stuff without realizing it. I see. And what exactly would you like me to do? I don't know, just maybe keep an eye out in case it seems like I'm not acting like myself. And how would I know that? I don't know. Maybe just something that lets you know on me. Ooh, like a safe word.

Mine is eclipse. Okay, praying I never have to know more about that. But sure, I could work. Let's not call it a safe word, though. Just a password. Something I wouldn't usually say. How about day off? Isn't that two words?

What are you, the password police? Just pretend like it's all one word. That's even better. If I get irritated about people correcting me, but instead of saying anything, just get all passive-aggressive like a good Minnesota boy, you'll know it's me. You fascinate me.

Day off. Got it. Is there anything else for this week? What do you mean? Beyond day off, is there anything else you need? A day off? Are you kidding me? It's October.

Why would I want a day off? I see. Fortunately, I'm well aware of how to distract your generation. Hello, I'm with the student loan collection department. Can't catch me on the gingerbread man. Oh, generational debt is funny. Perhaps I should take a moment to let the others know of John's evident deterioration.

Oh well, I'm sure they'll be fine. I attribute the success. I am God. For more information on this podcast, including how can save mankind. 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.

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