Creepy - Day 30 - The Sugar Man Can

Episode Date: December 21, 2017

There is a tree standing in the family room. It is decorated with lights and bulbs, but no candy canes...no, those are for something else entirely.***Credited to Some Guy ***Please consider supporting the podcast at Patreon.com/Creepypod or creepypod.com/support***Sound design by Steve Blizin***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.

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Creepy Presents The Bad Days. Day 30 The Sugarman Can. Credited to some guy. if I had to do one of those word associations and they said grandfather, my response would probably be candy cane. And if they wanted another response, I might say, the sugar man. I remember that my grandpa always had candy canes.

They were in the kitchen drawers in his nightstand, often in his pockets, and always hanging from the doorknobs around the house during holidays. Not the Christmas tree, mind you. The doorknobs. I don't remember him always eating them, just around Christmas time. That's probably because of the time my sister and I stayed with my grandparents for a week when my parents were out of town on business. I'll never forget the night he told us.

The sun had just set. It was only a little after five in the afternoon, but that was just part of Christmas time in the north. My grandpa just lit a fire in the fireplace and the wood crackled and popped as the flames grew and the embers glowed with their radiating warmth. It was still in the days when you could have a wood-burning fireplace. My grandpa had a garage full of firewood. He'd split himself. After dinner, he sat in his chair near the fire, poking at it occasionally with the stoker.

My sister and I busied ourselves with coloring books as my grandma crocheted and Afghan. Must have looked like something out of a Norman rock wall painting. You know, except for the row of sharpened candy canes on the table next to Grandpa. I don't remember if it was me or my sister who asked about them, but one of us asked. Why don't you ever finish the candy canes? Grandpa considered us as he slowly turned the fresh candy cane in his mouth. He took it out and looked at the end. The bright red line's just starting to fade to pink.

They are done, he said. At least for me. Why don't you throw them away? These are for the sugar man. We didn't ask who. We just sat there in curious silence. He knew we wanted to know, but he made a show of it, sucking on the end of the candy cane a bit more before speaking again.

He comes from the same place as our family. When the Great War displaced your great-grandfather and grandmother, he left too. He must have followed them on the boats. Hidden amongst the few bags and possessions people were able to save. even take with them. He loves sugar. That's why they call him the sugar man. He loves candy canes most of all.

So he only comes out in the winter and in the dark. This time of year, when the sun is out the least and the wind is so cold, it feels like the old country. And he awakens. The cold and dark makes you stay inside so you can't see him running around. round. Those tiny footprints in the snow that parents so quickly tell you are from a rabbit or squirrel. My sister and I must have scoot it a little closer together because he smiled softly. The light from the fire dancing on his face.

Don't worry, he said. The sugar man is a coward. He doesn't want to be seen. He would never come out when people are awake. He's blind. and afraid. He's so old that his eyes long ago rotted away, so he can only hear and smell. He smells the sugar, smells it in all of the houses and schools, all the candy canes out there for him to eat. Grandpa looked at the candy cane again, still not to his liking. He's got a bulbous little body, short and fat, almost round.

with a sharp nose better at smelling than a dog. He follows that nose through the snow, searching for his precious candy. But he gets cold and needs the warmth of the houses. He slips into them easier than a mouse. He's done it for so long that he doesn't even need to think how anymore. His tongue is long, longer than a dog or a snake, and it's sharp, flicking out, looking for sugar. I tried to show how I was the brave older brother and speak up with authority, as if I already knew how the story went in my wise old age.

That's why we hang candy can'ts around the house. Grandpa smiled and nodded. That's right, but not just any candy canes will do. He reached over and held up one of the already sharpened candy canes. He's a coward, but he's so hungry. We sharpen the candy cane So his tongue will flick at them and cut him And he will get scared because he knows we know he's there

If not He will keep looking for something to eat I remember it was my sister who spoke up next Can't we catch him and give him to the police Again my grandpa smiled his patient smile No sweetie We need to be asleep when he comes comes. He is a coward, but hunger makes animals do dangerous things. You see, when we sleep,

our hearts slow down and rest with us. If we were to awake and be scared, our hearts would be too fast and he'd smell the sugar in our blood. It would make him wild, and he might look for more than just the candy canes. I still regret asking the question. More what? Grandpa leaned forward in his chair and held out his right hand, like he wanted a high-five. I slowly pressed my palm against his and he took out a fresh candy cane. He took his hand away and held the stem of the candy cane next to my small fingers. I immediately understood. Those candy canes, almost the exact same shape and width of my finger.

He wants something sweet, but he can't see. he's looking for candy canes. That's when he held up his left hand. It was something I'd seen my whole life and never once considered. It was just the way it was. Grandpa's left hand, a thumb and three fingers, only a small stump where his pinky used to be. In the old days, we couldn't always afford candy canes.

He said. My sister and I spent the rest of the night huddled under a blanket next to Grandma, watching Grandpa work on the candy canes. He even handed one to me. It's time you helped, he said. Have you done it before? I nodded. Of course I'd sharpened candy canes.

All kids did. It was as if you read my mind. Perhaps the other children know of the Sugar Man too. Don't be the only one he's not afraid of. Grandpa leaned over and stuck the fire a few more times. I listened to the crackle of the wood, but all I did was conjure images in my mind of snapping branches in the woods, and animals skulking through them.

Hunting. Your mom and dad tell you to sleep so Santa will come. But that's not really why. When little boys and girls can't get to sleep, Santa can't. and won't make them. But the sugar man can. Oh yes, he can.

Every night that week, Grandpa showed us what he claimed he normally only did after we went to bed and hung the sharpened candy canes from the doorknobs. We went right to bed, tucked in, eyes clenched no matter what sounds we heard outside. Exhaustion would usually take us immediately to sleep. Every morning, the candy canes would be gone. And Grandpa would start working on them again without a word. When our parents got home, we ran to them. So glad to be safe.

We could go home where there was no sugar, man. Go home and be safe and sound. Out of sight, out of mind. My parents must have sensed their attention and dad talked to Grandpa. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but he had a look of concern on his face and I'm sure he was mad. Grandpa told us a scary story. We went home and then I went to bed as usual.

No candy canes, no worries. Even my sister seemed to have forgotten about the story as soon as we were back in our parents' protection, and she was surrounded with her dolls and stuffed animals, like a blockade around her bed. Still, that night I couldn't sleep right away. I took a couple of candy canes out of my bag, but it was dark, and I was tired and scared, so my mind jumped to the part of putting them directly onto my sisters in my doorknobs without sharpening them. I know it sounds silly and childish, but it helped me go to sleep that night. That night, I swear, I heard crunching and chewing.

This sounds of lips smacking as I dreamed to horrible things. I woke in a cold sweat. Still not even three in the morning. I desperately needed to go to the bathroom, but the moment I opened my door and saw there was no candy can on my doorknob. My feet felt the wet, tacky sharpness of something. something, and I rubbed at him. I felt the bits of candy cane fall away. I dove back into bed and silently cried until sleep took me away. The next morning I woke early, pressure in my

bladder not letting me stay in bed anymore. Slowly I opened the door and looked into the hall. Neither my door nor my sister's door had a candy cane on it. But as my eyes scanned down the hall towards the bathroom, I saw my parents' door, closed. with a sharpened candy cane on it. I couldn't make it out because of the shade carpeting, but I swear I saw a few drops of red beneath the candy cane. Red that looked an awful lot like blood. Walk your doors.

Hang your candy canes and go to sleep. You can keep out the cold, but he's coming inside. The sugar man can. For more information, including pictures and videos of the stories told on this podcast, or to suggest stories for future episodes, please visit us. At Creepypod on Twitter, Instagram. All stories told on this podcast can be found at creepypastawikia.com and are protected by a Creative Commons license.

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