Creepy - Day 28 - Ignore the Bush Smoking a Cigarette & There's a Baby Crying

Episode Date: October 28, 2022

Ignore the Bush Smoking a Cigarette***Written by: No One of Consequence and Narrated by: Michelle Kane***There's a Baby Crying***Written by: Sum Gigh***Tickets for the "Creepy" live show can be purchased at: https://bit.ly/BloodyFM***Check out our reward tiers at patreon.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 creepy pastors and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened or 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. Ignore the bush smoking a cigarette. Written by known of consequence. And narrated by Michelle Cain. Military service isn't for everyone. It's a fact that I not only know,

but has been drilled into my head for years. It didn't stop me from joining ROTC in high school or from taking the Armed Forces vocational aptitude battery in my senior year. My ASVAB score was at 82, which is pretty good. I shoved my score print out in my father's face and proved to him I could do better than he had when he was my age. It didn't matter to him.

I was his little girl, and he didn't want me, joining the Army. I wish I could say my mother was more supportive, but she really wasn't. The morning I left for the military entrance processing station, or MEPs, wasn't spent getting heartfelt goodbyes and hugs for my family. Nope, my recruiter picked me up before anyone was awake, and I left without a word. Just a backpack and a change of clothes, a few personal items, pack of smokes, and $200 bucks in my pocket. It didn't really matter that I'd left virtually everything I owned behind. The Army would provide everything I'd need for the next five years, or so I thought.

My parents wouldn't hear for me again for two months, and I wish it had been under better circumstances. Fort Leonardwood was where I get shipped off for basic training. Even though it was the tail end of summer, the temperatures were still hot. and so was the humidity. It didn't start feeling cooler until the end of October, but knowing what happened, I wish I'd joined up as soon as school had let out.

No one could say for sure, but I think the cooler weather can be blamed for what happened. I'd been doing remarkably well in my training, qualifying expert at the rifle range, passing my physical training tests with scores good enough to blow away the male standard. and I could carry a 70-pound rucksack while wearing my body armor without much trouble. For a 5-foot-4 female, I was doing better than most of the men in my unit.

Hell, I already outranked most of them since I started off as a private first class. Don't get the wrong impression, I wasn't some blue falcon strutting my stuff like a stuck-up cunt. I was just better prepared than 90% of the others. Sorry, a Blue Falcon is a term we used for those that fuck other people over, or those that generally screw shit up and get everyone in trouble. It basically stands for buddy fucker. Private Reynolds was a perfect example. Two weeks into training, five minutes after lights out, the drill sergeants stormed into our barracks and dragged all of us out of bed. We were forced to change into our PT clothes and warm up outside. Reynolds had been writing a letter when the lights were turned off. This fucking idiot didn't give a

shit and turn the lights back on so he could finish the letter. Their fireguard turned the lights back off, but Reynolds flipped them back on. The argument that followed got the overnight drill sergeant's attention. Even though the genders sleep on different flip, floors, what's good for the goose is good for the gander. Our entire company was pulled from their bunks and forced to do PT all throughout the night. By the time we were done, it was time for a regular PT, which we did with the rest of the unit. A week later was our gas chamber training. They took a group of 20 at a time, marched them into the chamber with NBC masks on, forced us to remove the masks, and experience CS gas.

When I got out of there, I had a giant dangling luggy and more phlegm oozing from my mouth. It took an hour for me to recover, and I'd only been in there for ten minutes. Reynolds went in two groups before me and was carried out after the group behind us was done. Apparently, someone knead him in the stomach,

shoved him in the corner, his payback. I freely admit to love. laughing when they pulled him out of the chamber. Alpha Company consisted of exactly 126 soldiers. On Thursday, October 31st, we were bused out to a camouflage training. As a smoker, I was seriously jonesing for a cigarette. There's no smoking in basics, so the craving was getting really bad. A big part of it for me is an oral fixation, so I'd regularly have a pentop tucked into the corner of my mouth. Not just any pin top, but the shiny clicker from a zebra pin. The cadre sergeant lecturing us on the important use of local fauna in camouflage happened to

notice the shiny top. He got right in my face and said, Private Barnes, when camouflage you are to be a bush, not a bush, smoking a cigarette. The lesson continued from there without mocking from the cadre sergeant, who, smelled like smokes, so I bet he understood what I was going through. After the lessons and practices were over, we were given a field dinner. This didn't happen often, but when it did, it meant we were in for a long march back to the barracks. What we got was a surprise. Instead of marching back, buses were going to come pick us up in a few hours. The camouflage course area was a four-acre quadrant with rope barriers. We were

to spend half an hour scattering ourselves throughout the area and hide as best we could using the skills we'd been taught. The drill sergeants were going to wait with our gear while the dozen cadre sergeants hunted for us. The last soldier to be found, we get a candy bar and a soda of their choice. Once let loose, we all bolted in every direction. I had a small group following me, thinking I was a contender for the prize. Took a few minutes, but I managed to shake him. as I ran through the woods. I didn't go that far back, figuring most would head for the boundary limits first, and clumping together would be a good way to get caught. Getting into the thickest part of the brush, which wasn't very thick, I managed to find a tree that had big roots. My original

thought was to climb the tree and hide among the leaves above, but there didn't appear to be a large enough cluster to conceal me. While circling the tree, I stumbled into a bit of a hole. One of the large roots was exposed and had a space big enough to hide half my body underneath. I grabbed as many fallen branches as I could and bunched them together on the other side of the tree, acting as a decoy. Using my uniform top, I covered it in dirt and dead leaves, making it look as much like the surrounding areas I could. Crawling as far as I could into the hole, I covered my exposed body with my makeshift blanket

and hid my head behind a small bush. Not 30 minutes later, I heard the muted movements of the cadre sergeants. I could see the beams of their flashlights, using the red lenses to keep from being too visible. They noticed the cluster of branches on the other side of the tree and pulled them away, saying they'd gotten whoever was there.

However, there wasn't anyone to find, and it confused them. Using their lights, they searched the tree itself, but declared the immediate area clear. By their conversation, they had already captured 36 soldiers and were expected to finish within the hour. As they began moving on, one of them said to keep an eye out for anything reflecting their light. It was a good indicator that they'd find the sergeant's top contender for the prize. The one that said this was the same cadre sergeant that told me not to be a smoking bush. I laid there counting the minutes, trying my damnedest not fall asleep. I'd never live it down if I got caught because of some stupid snoring.

It's not that bad, but I usually sleep on my side and it gets rid of it. Anyway, the air was cooler and I remember thinking it was a nice night, considering the circumstances. It had been two months since I had last had enough space to myself to really enjoy some quiet time. Since getting to MEPs, I had constantly been around people with all their talking and obnoxiously annoying personality defects. I knew the army was full of mouth-breathing morons, but ROTC hadn't prepared me for just how idiotic these people could be. If I could, I'd have stretched that game out for hours,

but the drill sergeants were going to announce when the time was up. Failing to comply at that point would not only lose me my candy bar and soda, but put me in a world of trouble. As I was pondering the merits of different candy bars, a wrestling in the brush cut my attention. At first, I thought it was the cadre sergeants making another pass or found soldiers making their way back to the group. It had been about an hour since the game began, and I'd heard caught soldiers grumbling on their way back,

but that's not what this was. From my vantage point, I couldn't see much in the darkness, made worse by the lack of moonlight, but I could hear whatever it was. The thing was big and smelled like a dead animal. All I could make out was a silhouette or part of it, because I didn't know any animal that was shaped like this. About the size of a well-muscled man, it hunched over on tree-trunk legs, unusually long arms, and a head that came to a soft point. I convinced myself it was a joke that cadre sergeants were playing. After all, it was Halloween, and we were playing an elaborate game of hide-and-seek. One or more of them had to have dressed up as a cryptozoologist's wet dream. That seemed only logical explanation.

The thing got closer and it didn't improve the smell. I could imagine military men doing a lot to scare the crap out of a bunch of trainees. But slathering themselves in dead animal guts to come up with this horrendous stench, that seemed a bit far-fetched. Then again, the drill sergeants did smoke the shit out of us for three hours when one of the enlisted voiced his disbelief of them having mustard gas. Of course it was absurd to think they'd use it on us like the scenario they gave us said, but we were punished because a private questioned what they had in their arsenal.

Whatever it was, stalked closer to my hiding spot, but I was determined not to be scared out of my hole. Then there was the sound of another soldier grumbling at being caught as he walked back to the group. His presence was made all the more obvious by the white light of his flashlight. Quieter than I imagined, the thing sprinted at the unsuspecting soldier. I never saw it coming as it took him to the ground with the fluid grace of a jungle cat. They were out of my line of sight when I could hear the struggling. With a gurgled whimper, the struggle ended.

And all I could hear was an animal tearing at something that was no longer alive. Unsure of what to do, I slid out of my hole, softly dumped the crap off my uniform top, and put it back on as I looked at the source of the wet sounds. What I saw? What froze me to the spot. The dead soldier's flashlight lay on the ground, pointing at the whole gruesome scene.

I saw a beast with dark brown fur and four unusually long arms tearing into the body, eating the morsels inside with what I can only describe as glee. Those hideously wide yellow eyes were delighted to have such a feast, and it was going to enjoy the best parts with that feline snout. At that moment, I knew this wasn't a prank, and every instinct in me screamed to run. Just as I was about to give in to my flight reflex, the creature picked up its head and looked off to the side,

thankfully not in my direction. I guess it heard more caught soldiers and it took off running, leaving mostly just the intestines left in the body. The damn thing moved so fast I had trouble tracking it. I'd never make it back to the big group, especially since it just ran off in that direction. So I did the only thing I could think of. I climbed the tree. Calling out for help would have defeated the purpose, and even if I did, what good would it have done? All our assault rifles were back with the drill sergeants, and if we had any ammo at all, they were blanks. The army doesn't send training soldiers into the woods with real bullets, only blanks.

Even then, each M-16 has a blank fire adapter on the end of the end of the army. the rifle. Intimidating the creature wasn't an option, even if it knew what a gun was. Shit, we weren't even allowed to have knives. Over the next 30 minutes, I watched that monster run past my tree several times. Due to the lack of light, I couldn't tell if it was the same or if there was more than one. At one point, I saw the beast stop at my tree, and I looked away at the sound of a radio squawking. The same three cadre sergeants I'd seen earlier were approaching my tree, and when I looked back down, the creature was gone. Without knowing where it went, I stopped myself from getting their attention. Overhearing the radio situation became clear. Bodies had been discovered

all over the camouflage range, and the cadre sergeants were trying to round up anyone left alive. As they got closer, something caught my eye at the base of the tree. Too late, I realized the brown fur I'd seen earlier would blend in perfectly with tree bark. And then the monster launched itself from the tree trunk. It knocked down all three of them, tearing into them, and this was the best chance I was going to have. Breaking off a thick branch, I leapt out of the tree and drove the pointy end of my stick into the beast's back. It tried to throw me off, but I stomped its back several times with my boots, driving the stick further into its torso. After what felt like minutes, the thing stopped moving, and only one of the sergeants was still alive. It was the one that had spoken to me earlier that day.

Barnes, he said, we need to get back to the group. QRF is only two minutes out, and they're going to flatten the entire area. I didn't need to be told twice. The quick reaction force was a standby unit ready to roll out at a moment's notice in the event of combat emergency. They'd be heavily armed and ready to kill. We ran through the woods grabbing anyone we could to follow. The drill sergeants called out on bullhorns for anyone in the woods to immediately come back to the group. As we came rushing out, up-armored Humvees were screeching to a halt just off the road, mounted 50-Cal machine guns were on all four vehicles, and soldiers loaded with M-4s poured out, chambering their first rounds and getting ready for the battle to come. I made my way to my gear and took off the adapter

for my rifle. Without hesitation, I walked up to drill Sergeant Eaglestad at the back of one of the humvees and held up my hand for him to give me one of the 30-round magazines he was giving out to the other sergeants. He looked me in the eye and gave me one of the magazines full of live rounds. Nothing in uniform was all he said. The other trainees hid behind the humvees, but I stood with all the real soldiers. We waited for a sign of hostile life and nearly shot several trainees as they stumbled out of the woods. Flood lights lit up the entire area, but I had a bad feeling. Scanning the area, my eye caught something on one of the large tree trunks. After seeing one of those things blend into tree bark like a fucking chameleon, I didn't hesitate.

I fired off a three-round burst. One of the rounds was a trace-around and everybody opened fire in the same direction I had. At first, it looked like the tree was bleeding. But then the creature that had been hiding in plain sight fell away. Very dead. After that, gunfire erupted all over the place as these things tried to come at us. There were dozens and more in the woods. After going through my third magazine, the sky lit up as Apache helicopters rained down hell on the woods. By the end of it, 57 soldiers, 8 drill and cadre sergeants were all that was left from our original group. In daylight, bodies were counted and carted off. The entire incident was deemed classified, and I never got to finish basic.

No one knew what those things were or where they came from, at least not that they admitted. I'm not permitted to discuss the incident, but fuck them. I was discharged without a say in the matter. And now I'm back home, two years later, still trying to figure out what to do next. For your bonus episode, Creepy Presents. There's a baby crying Written by some guy There's a baby crying

I always hear it The first time I heard it I was shoveling snow I barely even noticed it over the scrape the shovel on my driveway I stopped at the gentle wah of it I thought maybe it was the wind Or maybe one of the neighbors at a fussy kit But my neighbors don't have kids.

They're all older, old enough to have grandkids. Maybe that was it. Maybe it was a visiting grandchild. I dismissed it and went back to shoveling. It's easy to stop noticing sounds if you don't think about them. It's when you notice something and you realize that you notice. That's when you can't let it go.

Like there's a sound of a clock ticking. You could live with it for years, but then one night when you can't sleep, suddenly you notice the sound and then you can't get rid of it. You can't sleep because of that sound. The sound that was always there that you just noticed, how long have I heard the sound? I mean, hearing it without hearing it. How can you even know?

It's a crying baby. It's not even loud. It's just there. more like white noise or feedback most of the time. But sometimes, sometimes when I'm watching TV, I'll hear the sound of the crying. I think it's coming through the walls.

Another reason I regret moving into a town home. Sharing a wall was a mistake. I thought I could get over since it was so much cheaper than buying a standalone home. One time I cracked, it was late at night and the incessant whining had gone on long. I banged on the walls. I needed them and know that I heard it and they should do something about it. I could hear the bass of the neighbors yelling back at me. You could hear the stress

in their voice. But they don't get how annoying the sound is. Like when you pull your fingernails along a chalkboard, yet you know the sound is bad, but you're making it, so it's not that bad. When you have to hear it, your mind plays all kinds of tricks, making you imagine the feeling on your fingernails, making it reverberate in your teeth. That's what the crying baby sounds like to me. I've emailed the association, trying to be polite about it, asking all the neighbors to be considered to their noise levels.

I know that I try above and beyond to not interfere with anyone else. You'd never hear something like that coming from my house. Some people weren't meant to take care of a baby Still, the crying process Maybe it's colic, maybe an ear infection I never see the kid Maybe he's sick like the boy in the bubble Finally the neighbors have had enough of my complaints

They know it's me The man bangs on my front door But I don't want to open it I don't like confrontation. I just want to be left alone. I just want that damn baby to stop crying. He yells at me, calling me a freak, calling me all kinds of names, claiming that I'm just trying to start trouble,

claiming that he doesn't have a baby. But I know he does. I can hear it through the walls at night. I can feel it in my very being. It's not the first time. And when I find it, I'll bury it in the basement with the rest of them. Then the crying will stop again. For a while.

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