Creepy - Day 28 - Heed the Warnings

Episode Date: October 28, 2021

I should have known better...***Written by Donna J.W. Monroe and narrated by Owen McCuen***Bonus episode: "Blind Man's Bluff Ritual" written by Ananorai***Find our reward tiers at patreon.com/creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/creepypod***Sound Design by Pacific Obadiah***Title music by Alex Aldea***Intro/Outro Narration by Joe Stofko Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Welcome to the bloody disgusting network. 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 not 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 28. Heed the warnings. Written by Donna J. W. Monroe. And narrated by Owen McCune. Maybe this wouldn't have happened if we hadn't been floating, drunk as shit, pissing arcs off the raft with Ben.

Ben was an asshole. We all knew he was, but clung like dingleberries because he was the shit. Ben's future was paved by his name and his dad's connections, so he partied, got seized, and fucked his way through the junior and sophomore class. Hanging out with Ben meant dangerous adventures, plus quality drugs, plus a sense of entitlement he shared with his crew. Fun, as long as you were on his good side. I'd landed on the right side of Ben because of my looks,

my quarterback body marked by black tribal tats, curling dark hair and tawny skin, and Grecian blue eyes. Ben forgave my lack of money and posh background because I was a chick magnet supreme. He said the two of us working together would be better than competing for ladies. Sometimes it made me uncomfortable, and I wasn't really interested in most of them,

but Ben didn't mind being the goalie that netted all the girls. Maybe this wouldn't have happened if I hadn't caught her eye. We'd floated the Hazah River on Saturday, tossing vodka jello shots at girls in tiny bikinis for flashing their tits. We jumped cliffs and mooned families stupid enough to float on the weekend. That night, the party at our camp went on all night. Most of us got lucky around the campfire. Girls slunk away after, probably worried about whoever they'd ignored in favor of us.

Ben called it the walk of shame when you saw a girl creep by at 3 a.m., face downcast and shadowed. He was all asshole all the time. In the morning, while the others slept it off, Ben tumbled out of his tent, leaving two pretty blondes he'd bedded in a howling threesome the night before. He'd been overly loud, so we all knew. He stretched like a big cat and grinned at me. Joshy with coffee and clans. He dropped into the camp chair next to me, and I hand him bitter as shit coffee, strong enough to knock the hangover out of your head. How about a morning float? Just you and me? Best buds and some bud?

He flashed a dime bag he'd kept from the other guys who still snored in their tents. Sure, why not? We threw in some liquid provisions, a hot sixer and some melted shots from the day before, and launched the canoe. front and me and back, the natural order. Maybe this wouldn't have happened if I'd been in front, directing the boat down the larger channel. Ben stopped rowing after a couple of strokes and packed a bowl for us. Hey, muscles, Ben said, between thick toaks off his one-hitter.

He blew smoke out around his words. Let's check out that side stream we saw. We'd gotten there on Thursday night before all the weekend partiers. We'd walked to the show down the length of the stream until mosquitoes sang around our heads in clouds, and the brush got too thick to push through. In the dark, the moonlight broke through the canopy of the branches wound together at the top, so that it looked like a wild woman's mouth, black, oh of a throat, streaming silvered water like a tongue.

It reminded me of when I was a kid hunting with my opa, how he called the woods a live thing. single thing that we all belonged to. He'd gone and died a couple of years ago, and what he'd taught me in the woods was all I'd had left of him. The clang of Ben's oar against the side of the canoe brought me back. Well, you a pussy? Ben passed the one-hitter, grinning because he knew how to get to me.

I'm game. The pot unscrewed the tightness in my chest. It took the edges off of Ben, so I leaned in and paddled, enjoying the quiet. The stream was mostly still and deep. On Fridays and Saturdays, Missouri rivers flowed yellowish, brown, and smelly. All the party piss had to go somewhere. But after the rafts beached and partiers went home, rivers turned sweet-smelling and dark.

Except the water from the side stream. It ran so clear you'd never know it was there, except you floated on it. Maybe this wouldn't have happened if I'd listen to my gut. Ben, look. I pointed the oar at a bullet hole-riddled sign. Private property. Across the stream, a worn wooden sign said, continue at your own risk in shaky black scrawls.

Maybe we should... Ben made wet, sucking noises. He said that's how pussy sounded during sex. That's how you sound right now, he said. It took another hit. It was enough to get me to paddle past the warnings. Then I saw her on the bank. Brunette with wild tangled hair that hung her ass and skin so white it shone.

Huge dark eyes that found me and locked. I mean it. I felt like she'd harpooned me. In that gaze, something inside me near my heart wriggled like it wanted to get free. "'That bitch is naked, man!' Ben whispered, though the stream was so quiet, his words echoed. Through her gaze, I felt a spark of anger as loud as if she'd shouted it. Why would I feel that? A little spark of worry flickered in my thoughts, but she was so beautiful.

The way she stood, so proud and plain, like being naked meant nothing. It felt like she'd been waiting for me. Hunting for me. A shiver ran through my blood. But what she broadcasted between us turned warm and welcoming. Hey! Ben said, standing in the canoe, making it rock. Hey!

It tipped, dumping us and the provisions into the stream. Everything floated away with the canoe. Even though we weren't far from our campsite, It felt like another world in the crystal stream. In the cold pit of my stomach, I knew we'd gone so much further than we meant to go. Maybe this wouldn't have happened if I'd gone for the canoe. We swam to the shore and climbed out. He grinned at her like a fool, taking in her small scoops of breast and the triangle of hair between her thighs.

Damn, man, I said. Have some respect. Right, right, he said, clearly not meaning it. I'm Ben and this is Josh. Who are you? She never even looked at him. Josh. Her voice sounded like a bird. So beautiful, my body tingled.

What's your name? I asked her. Sissy, she said, pulling on a thin shift of a dress. She reached a hand out to me. And what was I going to do? I took it. Maybe if I hadn't. See, Ben didn't ever accept rejection. He got what he wanted every time,

so her lack of attention made him even more interested. Whoa! Sissy, don't you want to meet me? He stepped in front and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her close to him. Flair of anger. I felt it in my skin, but I wasn't sure if it was mine.

or hers. The understanding of her feelings imprinted between our pressed together palms. What she needed, what she felt, wired itself in my thoughts. His fingers bruised her white arms and I wanted to hurt him. I shook off the urge to punch him in the face.

I put up my arm between them. Let her alone. This bitch isn't worth it, Ben sneered. Itty-bitty titties and no ass. "'Fucking asshole!' She turned to him, head tilted, and angled up with pride. "'You are for my sisters.' "'There's more of you?'

"'Cool,' Ben said, predatory grin spreading across his face. She smiled back, and it hurt deep like a knife twisting in my balls. Something felt so wrong, and I jerked at my hand, but she said, "'Josh!' and the pain melted away. Come with me. She gently tugged, and my feet followed, though my mind whirled with jealousy and a heat

that radiated from her into me. The knowing part of me wanted to stop and drag Ben back to the stream. The deeper parts of me, whatever she'd connected to, pushed me along. We followed her through the woods on a narrow dirt track. My opa used to call them

Indian trails when we hunted, said deer and other animals ran the dirt track like mindless things, expecting always to be safe on the trail. That's why it was okay to kill them. They weren't smart enough to know that they made their own danger. The strong eat the weak, he'd said. At that moment, I felt pretty weak. Maybe this wouldn't have happened if I hadn't fallen in love the second I saw her. She led us to a little shack, porch and windows that sort of Lincoln log look the cabins had. On the grayed out wooden porch, there were six women all about our age. Maybe. Hard to tell. They were all beautiful in a wild way. They wore plain dresses and had bare feet. Some were blonde, some had black skin, some curved and some didn't. All of them had eyes for Ben.

He passed us, eyes dreamy. Ladies, wow, so many. They all grinned and encircled him and pulling him up on the porch. Let's leave them alone, okay? I didn't think anything of it. Or maybe it was that she didn't let me, but Ben looked as happy to be with them as he'd ever looked, and her hand in mind soothed away any worry my mind could conjure. She led me into her backyard where the meadow grass gave way to a sheer rock face, only broken at the bottom by the dark mouth of a cave.

We walked to the cave's mouth and sat together on a big stone, tangled in each other's arms and eyes. She kissed me, and it felt deep, like the cave was inside of me. She pulled my shirt off and ran her long fingers over my tribal tats. Why'd you get these? They're a copy of my opah's tats. He was half Greek, but... He said he was half demon. We had these done after my first deer.

He said it made me a demon, too. I smiled, remembering. Grandma threatened to hit Oprah with a skillet if he kept telling me ghost stories, but I saw him hunt. He was vicious, so vicious, so fict. so fast. Sometimes he seemed like something not human.

She ran her fingers down my backbone. Your tattoos mark you a shifter. I started to ask what she meant, but she stood and began to sway almost reverently. Her sisters laid Ben out of the cabin, all of them naked. She took my hand and we followed them. The sky darkened as we stepped into the, the shade of the cliff, and the parade of us felt ominous, like a funeral parade. Part of me wanted

to stop her, but it was like my body belonged to her instead of me. She laid her finger on my lips. Maybe if I'd said no. They stretched him out on a stone shelf made soft by thick blankets. He moaned, and his dick was a rock. I didn't want to see it. But there it was. I started to take a step, I don't know, stop them maybe, or to leave them alone, or get Ben and run. My mind whirled around the possibilities, unable to settle on an action,

and my body shook with the unused energy. Before I could move, one of the sisters ran her fingers down another sister's spine, opening her skin like it had a zipper. She pulled her arms and legs out, and hung her skin neatly from a peg on the wall. I was frozen, heart hammering, and legs locked, as all of the sisters did the same.

Soon there was a wall full of beautiful skins and creatures of nightmares stretched inside with something like relief. My sissy stood all muscle and slick blood, red and wet and smiling. Maybe I should have run screaming, but I wasn't afraid. I kept thinking of Opa and his stories.

Skin-walking demons. Shape-shifters. How his eyes glittered when he told me, how he'd itched at his back sometimes and let his eyes go distant. She ran her finger down my spine. My skin fell open and the sisters tugged me out, undressing me from my skin.

The wind on my wet insides felt like a mother tongue, soothing me, and I knew I was home. We surrounded Ben, who was too stone to understand the danger. He laughed like a fool, like the deer who run the hunting path, expecting safety. He deserved to die. The sisters tore his skin off in strips. Ben's eyes found mine once he was skinless and screaming. Maybe if they killed him quick, but the sisters wanted to taste his pain.

They savored the bits of him they ripped away, chewed him and smeared his blood all over their red muscles and white sinews, trilling with happiness as they reveled. It was Sissy who ended his pain. She tore into his chest, ripping out the velvety organs and offering them to her sisters who knelt and simpered before her. as she gave them their share. Then she ripped out the greatest prize. Sissy smiled with bloody red teeth and offered me his heart,

a fitting tribute for the new mate of the Alpha. I bowed and ripped it in half, holding part of it up for her to eat from my outstretched hand. Opa's lessons and what I'd seen in the woods how he hunted, how he ate the hearts, all made me ready for this. His great lesson and my inheritance.

The strong eat the weak. Down deep, I always knew it would happen this way. Maybe it couldn't have happened any other way. For your bonus episode, creepy presents Blind Man's Bluff Ritual. Written by Aninori. The following is. something I made up. But by listening to this, you've made it real. It's best prepared beforehand

so that way everything can be on time. Timing is very important in this game. You will need a dark room with or without windows. Windows if you want safety. If you have windows, there must be curtains or sheets on them. No light can be seen. There may be furniture in the room. There may be furniture in the but not much. The floor should be clean. I don't recommend having anything hanging on the walls. They might fall down, depending on how the game goes. There should be some sort of seating arrangement for at least three people, or no more than five people. This includes a circle of chairs or a couch love seat. I recommend the chairs if you do not wish to share a seat. The room is ready. I recommend memorizing the way to your seat.

You will not want to bump into anything on your way there. I also recommend having your game room on the same floor as your bedroom. Go to bed at 8 o'clock that night. You will want sleep. It's imperative that you sleep for a duration of time, no matter how short. Leave your room at 1150. Put a blindfold on your eyes before you leave. Walk to your seat.

Do not be alarmed. No one will block you. Sit in your chair. When you feel that ten minutes have passed, you will know because it will have felt like 20 minutes. Invite them in. If it happens that you do not want to go through with the game, then go back to your bed without taking off your blindfold.

If you wait longer than ten minutes, they will be offended and enter anyway. Do not let them enter on their own accord. If you take off your blindfold, it is a signal of fear. They like your fear. You do not want them to like your fear. If it happens that you want to play, say calmly but firmly, come in. in and be obedient. They will come in.

They are your guests. They are yours to entertain, so be polite. Be careful of your manners and do not remove your blindfold. You do not want to see them. Be very specific of what you want them to do.

They will do exactly what you do and do not tell them to. Before anything else, tell them your rules. You are their host, and they will not disobey you. Be specific. Tell them how you expect them to act. Tell them if they are or are not allowed to touch you. Tell them what they can and cannot touch in the room.

Tell them where they can go. They are like children. Instruct them with precision. You may tell them to sit. they will sit. You will know when they are seated. You may ask them questions. They may lie to you. You will not know when they are lying. You may ask them to knock on the walls. They will knock. You will hear them knocking, as will anyone else in the house. The other person may wake up from the knocking. If he or she does, pray that whatever pain comes to you will be swift.

You may ask them of your future. They will not know. They will not tell you. You may do anything, but you must not cross their lines. You will know when they are crossing their lines. If you wish to ask them something, and you feel even the slightest hint of something, wrong, do not ask it and do not mention it. The moment you cross their lines, you are dead.

Remember to never take off your blindfold. They will ask you too. They will beg you too. They will try to force you with the sweetest tongues and the harshest tones. No matter what, do not take off your blindfold. And above all, do not be harsh with you. them. You are their host. They are your guests. You must never be unkind to them. They will see it as a threat and take care of you as seen fit. When you are done with them, tell them to leave and not return unless you invite them to do so. Tell them that you enjoyed their time. They love your flattery. You will know when they are gone. Do not take off your blindfold.

When they are gone, walk back to your room and go to bed. Do not take off your blindfold. Sleep. You will dream of nothing bad. You may take off your blindfold when you wake, so long as it is daylight. For the rest of your life, they will follow you. But they will never be in plain sight, and they will never be there when you look at them. They will always want another chance to meet.

chance to meet you. Do not exceed three meetings. After the third meeting, they may invite you. You cannot decline their invitation. For even more from creepy, 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 used under license and may not be rebroadcast or distributed without the express prior written consent of the story's author. Please contact us at creepypod at gmail.com for further information on obtaining the rights necessary to rebroadcast or distribute a particular story.