Creepy - Day 27 - Coilscrew

Episode Date: October 27, 2017

My grandpa told me a story...***Presented by Atheist Apocalypse (https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/atheist-apocalypse/id1022840341?mt=2)***Support the podcast at Patreon.com/Creepypod***Sound design by Steven 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 and disturbing creepypastas and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened, or our 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 27. Coil Screw. As a child, I truly adored my grandfather. He was a now rare breed of man. A word spinner, brilliant storyteller, whose words could paint vivid images in your head which would stay imprinted in your mind forever more. And since I was an infant, his stories seemed mad.

He told me of far-off places and paradises, cityscapes, and great lakes, animals with exotic names which exploded on the tongue like spices. If I try to remember his good stories and close my eyes, I can remember the ideas I heard from him better than most memories I saw with my eyes. Even once from an age as young as that. That's how good he was. Now, I've mentioned already, I think, that he had good stories, which means I've inferred some more bad. He told one to me once, but not so much of a story, but of a being. I apologize. I'm not even half the storyteller my grandfather was, but here's the basic jest. He told me, where he usually did, in front of that grand firepower.

place, the only thing which made his little house beautiful. He lowered his voice to a sibilant whisper like dead leaves blowing across the ground in winter, so my mother couldn't hear. She was never present when he told me his stories. She often stayed in the garden or chatted with the neighbors. He described how he once had a friend whose passion was for the science of anatomy. He longed for a time to discover the trick of life. Andy had attempted to do this by combining creatures with before little success.

This was disturbing in itself. But this time, my grandfather said, he came to him and said, I have a new piece. His friend had said, it worked this time. I didn't do all the work. Most of it I found already like this. But still, still, come and have a look.

But mind yourself, it's rather... Offensive. Maybe the words of his friend were branded onto his brain like his description was to mine. His friend let him do a metal door. The only metal door in the facility. You'll understand why it's assigned this room soon. He had assured him.

My grandfather described how he'd made to open the handle. His friend stilled his hand, instead directed his eye to the peacle in the door. And this is what he saw, not cowering, but in the middle of the room, awaiting a visitor with relish. It even seemed to be bouncing slightly. He said staring into the distance and troubled, when he noticed its legs were not there at all. But there was only one huge rusted spring at the base, like a monstrous zibati. Its whole torso was made from lattice, different hues of skin, sewn crudely together to cover him from groin to head. Its arms were springs, but less rusted and more slender, interlaced with what he perceived to be a network of nerves all the way to the end of its fingers, which were actually hooks, stained red.

From rust or blood, he never knew. In its head, the images my mind created of this never left me. A pale ball, bulbous, not humanoid. Long mouth stretching from where ears would be on a human. But its black ears and eyes where only holes as big as nail heads and full of needles, like the ones used to pierce flesh or fabric

and injections or sewing, protruding from an inch-thick, pale pink gum which reflected the light where it reflected off the coating of saliva. The teeth were randomly in double-lined like a shark, he said. By now, I remember feeling petrified beyond panic and my child's face must have reflected my feelings. I wonder why now he grimly continued. Maybe he was too thorough to simply leave a story unfinished. He told me how he'd pulled away from the hole and at that moment heard a noise like a caw combined with a squeak like a damp cloth on a plate, followed by panting like a dog and noises like springs of the mattresses.

His friend had looked abashed for a moment and then said, Sorry, he'd excited you the little coil screw. He senses you. He quickened the pace of his tail now. I remember how he said now suddenly the door started quaking as the coil screw began scratching at the door. The noise like rusty springs from the other side of the door. The blood drained from his friend's face and he bolted up the corridor just as the door fell down and it bounded out. Grandfather, as he portrayed himself, that is, saw the full extent of the sting's abilities.

He bounded forward only a little after his creator before instead extending his spring arms, hooking him back by the eye sockets. He proceeded to bite into him as he reeled him over. Tiny little pinpricks which seeped blood and left little scratches. Drink. About then, you remember the presence of my grandpa. He looked up at his face, creaking as his neck springs bent and hissed. He moved me of how he ran. and ran and never looked back.

Now he fully looked at me and told me, you must remember this story. It's very important. I heard footsteps coming from the front door for you to remember. Because one day you may need to remember some monsters are truly real. My dear.

And at that moment, my mother walked in. She saw me, tiny face rigid and terror. My grandpa's face and heard his words and at that moment dived on him and began shaking his shoulders. Have you been telling that goddamn story, pa? I told you never to tell a child of this family that again. You'll disturb him like you disturbed Katie and you know what happened to her. She turned and grabbed my hand.

Come on, sweetie. We're leaving now. It's okay. Forget the scary things he's been telling you. And she quickly brought me out of the house I remember hearing Gramps shouting. Katie didn't die because she was disturbed. It was the coil screw. God damn it, Helen.

My mother's name. It's for his protection. It'll hunt down any of Sot and their family and we should be warned. His incessant shout it's waned in nothing as we walked to the car and drove off. I remember not being able to sleep months after that story, and we never saw Gramps again. But I did some digging afterward and found his job had been traveling to various scientific facilities around the globe. I found the institute his friend worked at, whose name turned out to be Colin. And all his colleagues were killed but never found.

Families had sought truth on the internet and all concluded that the work went too secret and they'd been assassinated a conspiracy. I always wondered when my grandpa had told me that story. And as he was diagnosed bipolar before his death and lived out his last days in a mental institution, I think he'd made it up as an after effect of losing a friend so close. But the idea of such a being scared me then, still does now. So I thought I'd posted here. Now, time to return to my present life.

There's paperwork to fill And I can hear birds singing And God, I can hear my son bouncing on the bed I thought I told him never to mess around in my room Past two and a half years The news crew at KUSA 9 News at 9 Have made you laugh I'll exercise my Fifth Amendment rights all over his face

We have made you groan You better be careful KUSA 9 Social Warrior. Alongside us, you have cried. And maybe, just maybe, we've made you think. I really need you to think about this. I mean, what if you're wrong? These are uncertain times for sure. Please acknowledge that everyone is going to deal with this differently, including me. But in season four, there's one thing we will do that we've never done before.

People are in danger. You know, Drake, you might be on to something. I am remarkable. Maybe too remarkable for this news station. Really giving me something to think about. We're going to make you say... Max and Andy are going broke and spending their last pennies on the barrier buster to see if we can escape sunrise peaks.

And now no sponsorship money coming into the station? It's almost like this is a sign of... Goodbye. To all things are as the beginning. And so, all things must end. Goodbye, Beatrice. Goodbye. Some will laugh. Some will love. Some will live. And some will die. Sarah, call Sheriff Rogers. He's got a gun!

On October 31st, 2017, in what was the first, 2017, in what we're going. will be the biggest season of atheist apocalypse ever, with 12 episodes guaranteed to tickle, taunt, and teach the world through the best satire and audio drama. We will finish the story of the Tri-County. Pot off the wire. Look at what it says. Oh. Oh, wow.

Jake? No. No, no, no, no, no. I'm not ready to say goodbye. Tune in at your favorite podcatcher so you don't miss a minute. of the final season of atheist apocalypse or go over to Paulsating.com forward slash atheist dash apocalypse

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