Creepy - Day 4 - The Witch's Familiar

Episode Date: October 4, 2021

Don't get caught up in rumors...***Written by Manen Lyset with guest narration by Nichole Goodnight***Bonus: "Trick or Treat or..." written by Joseph Yenkavitch and narrated by Jimmy Ferrer ***Check out 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.

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The 31 Days of Horror, The Witches Familiar, Written by Manon Lyset, with guest narration by Nicole Goodnight. Hi, I'm Amy, and this is... I am a lord of night, summoner of darkness, the shadow on the... This is my buddy Cole. We know this isn't exactly how it normally works on the podcast, but because of, well, reason. we're sharing this story together. I hope that's okay. For context, we're seniors in high school and we're in most of the same classes.

We're a bit of an odd pair, but we've been friends for a few years now because of what happened in science class. She's referring to the frog incident. It was a thing. That morning, I'd gotten into a fight with my friend group, so I took a seat at Cole's table near the back. We were doing the typical frog dissection experiment that day.

Well, I was. Cole was reading a book looking disinterested in his frog. The Spoon River Antology. Highly recommended it. You told me you didn't want to dissect your frog for ethical reasons? I'm sure I said something like that. Truth is we were out of latex gloves. I told Mr. Davison, but he said frogs were sterile.

And to go-ahead with bare hands as long as I washed with soap. Sorry, but I was not touching one of those things without gloves. Thank you very much. Ew, gross. My thoughts exactly. So, I was sitting there, minding my own business, enjoying the bleakness of poetic epitaphs, immersed in the lore of Spoon River, when I got Amy from the corner of my eyes scooping up my frog. To be fair, he wasn't doing the assignment.

Yeah, I didn't care. Mr. Davidson gave exactly zero shits as long as you passed his test, and I could do that with my eyes closed. He only ever recycled a practice exames from the test. books anyways. Wait, what? Why didn't you tell me? I thought everyone knew. Now I feel dumb for cramming so hard. Well, anyways, I was going through a weird, morbid phase at the time. You know how teen girls are. Sooner or later, we're bound to spark an interest in witchcraft. Anyways, everyone knows the myth you can bring a frog back to life using an electric circuit. A few kids up front were already hollering about

there's twitching. I, man, I really don't know what was going through my mind at the time, but I kind of went a little Frankenstein on those poor frogs. I looked up again, and she was sewing my frog's legs to hers. I wanted to see if the added limbs would also twitch. You were creating a veritable frog Ganesh. I remember thinking, wow, and people think I'm the freak. Don't get me wrong, I thought it was funny. And my curiosity was peaked.

Just as I was about to shock it, I saw my friend walking over. I panicked. She swapped our platters. I think she was coming to make a man. Who knows? But yeah, she saw Froggenstein's monster and Cole's platter and freaked the hell out. The teacher came running. I clammed up, but I was sure they'd figure it out.

I mean, I was still holding the needle and thread for Christ's sake, but no, the teacher started berating coal. Big surprise there. It's the goth luck. People just, you know, assume. You could have thrown me under the bus, but you didn't. I ain't no snitch. Thanks.

But after that day, you weren't just that weird, quiet goth kid. You were... I don't know. I was the creepy outcast who sewed frogs together. It's... Whatever. At least people stopped bothering me. Except for me.

Eh, you only half bothered me. Maybe one-third. One-third? Aw. Mr. Drudner tried to have me expelled over the whole thing. What? The gym teacher. Yup. He went to the principal, who essentially told him to stay in his lane, thank goodness.

What a turn-up. A guy had it out for you. Yupp. Anyways, that's how we became friends. It's relevant backstory, I promise. Cole, want to start us off? Yeah, sure. Every Halloween over the course of five years, local cats went missing.

It started with a half dozen or so at a time. Too few to be noticed beyond those directly affected. I remember little Tony and his dad, Big Tony, calling for him. for Captain Fluff Butt late into the evening, long after the trick-or-treaters had gone home. Little Tony looked like his world had ended, and his bag of candy was so far out of his thoughts that it might as well have not existed.

Big Tony looked annoyed. It had been a very dark and gloomy Halloween. Overcast and cold enough you needed a coat under your costume. Once the rain started, a parade of cars emerged to rescue children from the evils of soggy clothes. Mom said the Tony's cat are probably been hit by one. and that its driver likely never even realized it. But I recall the plethora of missing posters appearing in the following days.

I don't remember every cat's face and name, only the captain fluff butt wasn't the only one. Eventually, the posters became bleached by the sun and rain cycle, The search forgotten. The next year after Halloween, the bus drove by even more missing posters on the way to school. I vaguely recall someone blaming coyotes. And so it went for three more years.

years. As far as I know, none of the cats ever returned. Until last October, I can pinpoint the exact date it happened. It was the early hours of October 13th, 2020. I know this because I'd curl up in a blanket with a cup of tea and watch horror movies on the 13th of every month. It feels right. That night was special. Not only did it take place on my favorite month of the year, the month where ghosts and ghouls come out to play and darkness takes on a life of its own. But it was also the full moon. There was a sort of supernatural energy in the air. As though the night was alive and the wind was a breath ebbing and flowing through the trees.

My bedroom window was open and my black curtains were wafting about, letting the moonlight peek in. Everything about it was perfectly soothing. To me, at least. scary is my aesthetic i was wearing headphones my parents don't like hearing the screams of the damned past midnight but then i thought i heard a sound outside of the movie i slid my headphones off and listened carefully it was quiet at first with only the sound of an october night trickling in through my window i waited holding my breath in anticipation but nothing happened just as i was about to put that headphones back on and check whether the noise had come from the movie after all.

I heard it again. This time I recognized it for what it was. A cat's yowl. It was that obnoxious sound they make when sizing up a rival. He yelled again, this time closer than before. My eyes were drawn to the window and I peeked outside in time to catch a dark shape traversing my yard into the neighbors. It was too dark to see clearly, but nothing about it gave me a reason to second guess it was a cat.

It wasn't until morning when I heard Big Tony screaming in terror that I found out I was wrong. I wonder if that's part of why they blamed you for the whole thing. You know, because you were so close to the first house? Maybe. I have a feeling they would have found an excuse to point their finger at me regardless. Probably. Sorry, go on. Big Tony screams while woke me up that morning.

I don't think I'd ever heard Big Tony scream before. at least not like that not such intense panic he liked to give off this tough guy attitude single father raising his boy all in his own I think he felt like he couldn't make himself vulnerable

but that morning I could hear him cursing shocked what the fucks and who would do something like this and this is sick over and over again I went outside a check on him and our other neighbor was scooping something into a trash bag while his wife called the cops.

I didn't get a good look at it, but it was definitely cat-shaped. Probably Captain Fluffbutt, though it was impossible to tell for sure in its condition. And it wasn't just a cat. There were extra pieces. I saw what I thought was an extra paw hanging limply from its back, but given what we were discovered later, I can confidently say it was a crow's wing. The cops showed up and asked to keep the incident hush-hush. They didn't want to upset people.

I suppose I can appreciate the sentiment, but it only delayed the inevitable. Want to take over? You knew one of the victims, didn't you? Yeah, Marissa. She was a friend of a friend of a friend, literally. Not like, you know, a friend of a friend told me this frightful tale. She was literally Kate's friend, and I hung out with Kate whenever I wasn't with you. You threw up math together, didn't you?

Yeah, math with Mrs. Faust. She was my favorite teacher, very down to earth. I liked her, too. She had cool tats on her arms you could see when her sleeves rode up. I always meant to ask her about them, but never got a chance. In any case, I appreciated that she never batted an eye at me, unlike other teachers. I think I could have shown up in full-blown kiss makeup, and she wouldn't have cared. Yeah, she was chill.

That's actually where I was headed that morning, but I stopped by the bathroom on the way, and I heard sobbing from one of the stalls. I kind of peeked under the door and saw two sets of legs and asked if everything was okay in there. It was Marissa and Kate. Kate was doing the comforting, and Marissa was doing the crying. I didn't quite understand the story through Marissa's bawling, but after her parents picked her up from school, Kate told me the whole thing. See, Marissa's cat, Gatto, had gone missing three years ago. That's how I met Kate, actually.

See, mine also went missing the same Halloween, which, to this day, I'm not sure how, since he was an indoors cat. I'm not going to lie, for a while there I thought maybe my parents had gotten rid of him until I caught them accusing one another of it. Real back-and-forth blame game about the back door being unlocked. Anyways, I was out putting up posters, and much as so happened that Kate was helping Marissa with hers. We traded half of our piles to cover more ground and agreed to meet up for ice cream later.

Marissa was too distraught to show, but Kate and I hit it off. So yeah, sorry, I'm not very good at this. I'm the queen of tangents. Where was I? Last year in the restroom, Kate told you why Marissa was upset. Right. I can't remember what parts of the story I got then and what gaps were filled in later. Just tell people what you know to the best of your knowledge.

Right, okay, so it happened the night of the 15th, I think. halfway to Halloween. Mine and Marissa's cats had been missing for two years at that point, but her family still hadn't boarded up their cat door. I think Marissa more than anyone was holding on to hope that her cat would show up one day. I mean, I get it. I still had hope, too. I would have done anything to get Chester Purrington back.

I did do anything. The whole pagan witch phase I went through wasn't just for show. I tried every location spell in the book, psychic communication with your animal voice projection over a long distance, but in the end, that didn't even matter, which is to say I don't blame Marissa and her family for not bolting their cat door, you know? Marissa was in that half-asleep state where you're never sure whether your dreams are bleeding into reality or if you're dreaming of trying to sleep.

That's when she felt weight at the foot of her bed, followed by the sensation of shifting footsteps. It wasn't the first time she dreamt of her cat. crawling into bed with her. Even years later, she still remembered those little feet slowly pitter-pattering up to her waist where Gatto used to sleep at night. It was almost like muscle memory. She felt the weight of her cat dropping by her hip and could almost imagine Gatto purring. Still unsure whether she was dreaming, she reached down to Pet Gatto and felt something cold and wet that snapped her awake. She turned on the lamp and looked and screamed. She claims it was still alive in the moments between when she started screaming and when her parents ran into her room.

She swear she saw its chest rise and fall, but there was evidence that had been dead for a while. I'm sorry if this next bit is a little disturbing. On Marissa's bed was a gnarled mess of coppery mud and fur that smelled like old incense. It was curled up like a cat, but barely looked like one. She's not too sure whether it really was got to. It was too dirty to tell. And it looked deformed in the way what cats kind of look alien with their fur pressed down against their bodies. It makes her eyes look so big.

Yeah, it does. And this thing's eyes were huge and milky. She said parts of it was wrapped up in dirty bandages like a, I don't know, like a mummy. But also not like a mummy. I mean, she could still see fur sticking out so she could tell it wasn't wrapped up all the way. But the weirdest thing was that there were also feathers. A few of them stayed glued to her bedding after her parents got red. rid of it. She's not sure what they did with it, but she couldn't get a lick of sleep after it happened. Why did she even come to school after that? Honestly. I think she was still in shock. She wanted to

act normal so she could pretend it never happened. I'm not sure. We found out later her parents hid the fact that there were muddy footprints going all the way from the cat door in the back, up the stairs, and into her room. There was even a small puddle of mud in the kitchen where Gatcha's food balls used to be like she was waiting to be fed. Chilling. Do you remember gym class that day? Yeah. I especially remember Mr. Drudner yelling at me.

Oh my God, classic Mr. D. Cole. Black platform boots are not athletic wear. I don't care if you have a doctor's note. I was in the bleachers contemplating my own mortality, as one does. Amy came up to me and told me about the Marissa incident. Copper mud, she kept in system. as though I was supposed to know what it meant.

Copper mud, coal. Copper mud. I dodged a ball coming right at my face, and when I looked down, Mr. Dredner was facing us. Amy, don't you start being a lazy ass, too? Get down here this instant. Such a prick. I mouth the word to you as I backed away into the court.

Bog. It clicked. The coppery mud she was talking about. There's a sublime spot north of town where a crest in the trees cuts a deep, deep, wide, coppery bog. We were warned as kids not to go there, not even on a dare. Every now and again, I'd find petrified animals sticking out of it. A deer once managed to run all the way to the middle of the bog where it got stuck. They tried to get it out with a rope and planks

of wood, but... Nothing worked. The poor thing was screaming all night for help. It took two whole days for it to sink beneath the mud. At that point, it was already dead. Nature at its finest. Only you would think that. Says Froggenstein. Tushay. Between the incident with Big Tony and Marissa, people were starting to talk.

Things blew up over the course of the next couple of days. More cats, if you could call them that, showed up on people's doorsteps. They were looking for someone to blame. They were saying a psychoid collected all these cats and returning them to their owners as a sick Halloween prank. Night after night, cats were talking. turned to their owners, dead and motionless. And no matter how much the cops tried to suppress rumors of paw prints leading up to their bodies, people still talked.

And yet, most people still thought it was someone doing. I suppose it's easier to blame a person than to admit the poor animals were moving of their own volition. That's all anyone could talk about on the bus. Who was doing it? Rose, who lost a catty or prior, said hers came back with a crow's beak and wings. No one believed her until she showed photos. Someone was sewing crow parts to their cats. Tail feathers here, wings there, the occasional beak.

I wonder if there was a pattern. I think there was. The older, the disappearance, the fewer modifications, at least from what I gathered. Oh, I don't like that one bit. It implies some of them were practice runs. Yeah. And suddenly, a week before Halloween, all eyes were on you.

It was because of the frog incident. They thought I'd moved up from torturing frogs to cats. You didn't, though. You're probably the only person who believed in me. Even my parents started questioning me. To be fair, I was the only one

who knew you weren't responsible for the frog incident. Not to mention, you slept over at my place one night and those messed up cats still showed across town. Then there was Mr. D who always had it out for you. He kept saying you were behind it. That's word to Halloween Day

And I overheard him talking to the principal He said they should perform a random search of the gym lockers He was positive they'd find evidence Bastard You want to tell it? Yeah If it isn't obvious by now I didn't really participate in organized sports

I'd stand in the way until Mr. Drudner learned It was easier to bench me than to deal with it He'd give me the stink eye rather than try to force participation out of me. It's not that I didn't work out. It's just that I'm more of a private yoga at home kind of guy. Since it was Halloween, most students were dressed up and had makeup on, so Mr. Dreddener went easy on them.

Granted, he didn't let everyone sit on their asses any candy or anything, but he had thriller playing, and one of the dance students was teaching everyone the mobs. I was watching. I normally don't. I tend to let my mind wander and stare off into space, but it was horror-related, so I was vaguely interested. I remember Mr. Dredner left for a few minutes to take a call.

Remember how odd that was, because Mr. Dredner was very strict about phone usage. We all had to leave ours in a locker room where he'd confiscate them. It was like a bloodhound, head away a sniffing them out, even from the sneakiest of students. Not to mention, I'd never seen him leave class. before. When he came back, I remember how he decidedly did not glare at me for once. In fact, he wouldn't even look in my direction. It was so odd. I had this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach,

but I tried to tell myself I was just being parent-wide. I get accused of being an attention seeker because of the clothes and eyeliner and nail polish, but I don't actually do any of this for attention. for the first time ever, though, I was disturbed I wasn't getting attention. Mr. Dredner had gone from always having me in his line of sight, to the point of sometimes missing fouls and goals, to not so much as glancing at me. A million thoughts were running through my head. Was this a manipulation tactic?

Had he finally figured out my doctor's note was a fake? None of the above, as it turns out. The cops showed up to check the lockers for drugs. It wasn't the first time they'd done that, but it was the first time they came out of the locker room with someone's backpack, ordering its owner to come forward. I don't do drugs, so I wasn't really paying all that much attention to the bag. They all looked the same to me,

but when I took a second glance, I saw the little pentagram patch on the front, and I realized it was my bag. this icy hot feeling overwhelmed my senses. It was like being caught with my hand in the cookie jar, multiplied a million times over. Even though I knew I was innocent, I still felt genuine dread at the thought of being caught. I got to my feet and stammered something about it being my bag. From the corner of my eyes, I saw Mr. Dredner grinning triumphantly.

They started reading me my rights, and suddenly our big gymnasium started to feel as small as a hampsom. I tried to explain they've made a mistake that I don't do or sell drugs when I noticed the cop holding a Tupperware container. It wasn't drugs. To this day, I'm not sure what exactly it was or where it came from, but it looked like Roadkill. Roadkill in a Tupperware container. Because that's what you do when you want to preserve something. You use a fucking Tupperware container to conceal freshness of a dead badger. My family didn't even own Tupperware.

We're glass people, less of a carbon footprint and all. Mr. Duddner made a comment along the lines of, What's that? No sassy comeback? Andy was right. I didn't have a comeback. I was too shocked, too confused. They hauled me away in zip ties like it was some sort of dangerous animal. and all I could think of was Tupperware, really?

The jail cell was cold, damp and soaked in a miasm of dread so thick I could hardly breathe. It was like a medieval dungeon. And if I hadn't been so stressed, I might have even enjoyed the aesthetic. And any other scenario, I would have appreciated the fake blood decals on the wall, rubber bats flying overhead and stuff scarecrow sitting at the end of my cell. We had to deck out the police station for Halloween. As it was, everything was rippling and warped, and it felt like I was going to die. I heard the shifting of hay and how the scarecrow was coming to get me.

I imagined myself screaming from the cell, hands gripping the bars as it slowly crept to me and stuffed hay down my throat. Thankfully, the sound was just a damn thing toppling over. Due process was mostly respected, as far as I'm aware. I called my parents, but they were so dissoned. disgusted with me, they refused to bail me out. The cops used the roadkill as evidence for the cats and said they were glad they were going to have a nice quiet Halloween without traumatized trick-or-treaters now that I'd been caught.

So much for that. I wasn't there to see any of it, being in jail and all. But I could hear the screams through the window at the end of the hall. I could hear the sirens near and far all evening. But all I could do for those long hours before dawn was sit on a rubber caught with my eyes shut, imagining gruesome scenes, because I'd been all but forgotten. This is where I come in, because I wasn't in a cell that night. Let me back up to gym class. I took a break from dancing to get a drink from the fountain. I just so happened to do this as

Mr. D was crossing over from his office into the boys' locker room. I saw the plastic container, but not what was inside. I didn't think anything of it until the cops showed up and arrested coal. It didn't take much to put two and two together. Mr. D was framing coal and where there's smoke, there's fire. I remembered Marissa saying her cat smelled like incense and suddenly connected more dots. Mr. D. was always spraying air freshener in his office and hallway. I had assumed it was because he could smell sweat from the boy's locker room, but it must have been to drown out the stench of dead cats. I was angry. That sick bastard had found a fall guy and who knows what he was was planning on the night of hollow freaking wean. If he could bring cats back from the dead,

who knew what he'd be capable of? The only person I knew would listen was our math teacher, Mrs. Faust. I hoped she'd convinced the principal to check Mr. D's office. I thought we'd find proof and get Cole out of jail. Once the bell rung, I ran to her office hoping to catch her before she left for the evening, but I was too late and her office was empty. I know I shouldn't have, but I rifled through her things in search of an address or phone number or something to get in touch with her. She was the only teacher I trusted. I come through her drawers and that's when I noticed one tiny detail. Something right out in the open, so obvious I almost missed it.

The purloined letter. The purloined photo. It was her and her parents at a lakehouse. She was in short sleeves so her tattoos were visible. Remember how I said I went through a bit of a witchy phase? I recognized the geographical shapes for what they were. Ever heard of sacred geometry? There's supposedly power and lines and symmetry and, well, math is magic.

Math is fucking magic. I realized then that if Mr. D really had been the person responsible, he would have used one of the actual cat crow high. hybrid things to frame Cole with. Make it ironclad, you know, but he didn't. Because he didn't have those Zomkitties. Crombies? Cat crumbies? Whatever you want to call them, he didn't have them. He was just a dick. Well, I was all sorts of panicked. What do you do when you can't trust the one person you thought you could? I should have gone to the principal or the police or whatever with what I knew, both with the fact that Mr. D framed Cole and with the fact that Mrs. Faust was obviously some sort

of cat-killing witch, but instead, I went to confront her, got her address at the registrar's office, and jumped on a bus. I know it was stupid, but you got to understand, I... Yeah, I have no excuse. I was just dumb. Dumb and angry. I wanted to exonerate my friend. It probably won't surprise you to hear she lived north of town. Yeah, near the bog. By the time I got through a maze of city bus circuits, it was already dark out. kids had started trick-or-treating. I think it was 6 p.m. The bog was between the closest bus stop and her house,

so I decided to check it for evidence on my way. What I wasn't expecting was to see her standing there in the dark, holding her arms out towards the bog. Her tattoos were glowing a purplish color with a similar purple mist rising out of the mud. Streaks of coppery mud littered the, I guess you can call it a shore, of the bog. The streaks slowly.

turned to paw prints the further they went. One of the creatures hoist itself out in the mud, eyes glowing purple. It was so perfectly made unlike the others. I finally recognized it for what it was, or what it was trying to be, a griffin. It had a beak that opened and closed as it meowed, talons instead of front paws and silky black wings that repelled the mud almost as though by design. It was a tiny griffin, but a griffin all the same. There were herbs and flowers sticking out of its mummy-like wrappings, which fell out as it moved around. The source of the incense smell. I heard Mrs. Faust sternly command, fly.

Its wings twitched, but remained limply at its sides as it walked towards her. Useless, she shouted. She whipped her hand back violently as though karate-chopping a spider web, and the poor thing's eyes turned white. It changed directions, lumbering towards the street with some purpose. My best guess is it was going home. She didn't want it, so it was going home like the others. Mrs. Faust's lips moved, but I couldn't quite make out what she was saying.

Crazy as this sounds, it was like her voice had become a wails call. There was nothing natural about it. There was also nothing natural about the glowing eyes at the surface of the bog. Dozens of pairs coming to life as she chanted and waved her hands like a mad maestro. And they were getting closer to shore. I don't know how it took Mrs. Fass so long to notice me, but when she finally did, her hands dropped and her eyes widened in shock. I suppose she assumed everyone would be too busy trick-or-treating to notice her. We were at a standstill.

She looked unsure of herself, and I was trying to figure out how to get out of this mess. I took a step back, and as soon as I did, she whipped her hand forward, and it felt like she'd wrapped an invisible net around me and pulled it tot. That's unfortunate, I heard her say. not sure if she was saying it to me or about me. She pulled me closer and I finally started making a fuss, you know, screaming in the hopes that someone would come to my rescue. Thing is, it was Halloween. Of all days, no one answers screams on Halloween.

But all the same, she made a zipping mouth motion over her mouth and my lips suddenly clamped down. For a moment, I thought I wouldn't be able to breathe until I remembered nostrils were a thing. I inhaled sharply and tried to pry my mouth. open to no avail. She walked over to me and looked me over. I could see genuine disappointment in her eyes as she turned away. You know I can't let you get away, right? I shook my head. She started her wail-like chanting again. The glowing eyes approached, and this is where I, like,

legit don't know whether it was on purpose or because I interrupted her or what the hell went wrong, but instead of her little messed up griffins, a whole mass came crawling out of the bog. all those eyes were now clustered to one another and twisted like a bunch of pretzels. Take her, Mrs. Faust ordered. The mass was yowling and shrieking and meowing and cawing as it moved towards me, and I thought I was done for. I couldn't move, I couldn't speak, and little talons were tugging at my legs. I fell over and they started to drag me into the mud.

It was warm compared to the night air like a blanket, but it wasn't comforting. Go in the deep and there's no coming back. Just when I thought I was screwed I heard a voice. Mommy? It wasn't out loud. That's the weirdest thing. It's like, I don't know, like reverberated from inside. The mass of animals crawled on top of me in a wave of fur and mud,

and one of the beaked cats leaned up to my face. Tears streamed out of my eyes, and I internally begged for someone to save me. Mommy. One pair of purple eyes turned milky white. dollops of mud fell from its face and onto mine. I'd recognize that tortie pattern markings. Chester Purrington, my cat. Mrs. Faust piped up again.

Drag her all the way in, now. I could hear sirens in the distance. Whatever other chimeras had crawled out of the bog that night were finally at or near their destination. Chester turned his head towards Mrs. Faust and the mass of animals followed suit. Give treats. I nodded dumbly. One by one, the purple eyes turned white.

It was so stupid. So fucking stupid. It was exactly the kind of dumb request I imagined Chester making whenever he sat on my desk and stared at me silently. I imagined a muppity voice squeaking about wanting food, but instead of the high pitch I normally imagined, the voice was soft and deep and loving. I don't know if he could hear me, but I thought, I'll give you all the treats you want. Mrs. Faust looked confused. She made more whale calls as she tried to regain control of her creation, but it didn't work. Chester and friends broke off from me and lunged for her, dragging her towards the bog.

She clawed at the ground while making those whale calls, but they didn't stop until she was under. Soon, all that was left of Mrs. Faust was an air bubble slowly surfacing, and suddenly my mouth opened and the invisible net around me snapped away. I never heard Chester's voice again, imaginary or. otherwise. It took all my strength to crawl out of the thick, sticky mud. I went back into town and saw the chaos. No one was hurt, save for Mrs. Faust, but more than a few kids were shaken up. Apparently a few dozen hybrids marched through the street following their instincts to go home. There were hundreds of witnesses that saw them moving on their own. They didn't survive long outside of the bog. But at least there was no denying Cole's innocence, and he was released

once everyone was done dealing with the animals the next morning. It's Halloween again tonight, on a full moon, no less. There's something electric in the air. Just like the night I first heard Mr. Fluffbutt yowling in my backyard. Amy and I started a tradition on the last of the month every month. We go to the bog and leave a bowl of treats, just in case they're still there. A little thank you for her cat, a pittance for the others who were affected. We say a little pagan prayer and wish them peace

This month, this Halloween, tonight. When we headed to the bog with our treats, we saw something. A streak of coppery mud coming out of the bog and into the trees. It was large, larger than a cat's. And when the streaks gave way to Prince, They were undeniably human. For a bonus episode, Creepy Presents, Trick or Treat Or

Written by Joseph Yankovitch And narrated by Jimmy Ferrer The fog came in earlier than expected Considering the evening it couldn't have been more perfect though It was probably why my parents weren't home yet from their afternoon party Tonight careful driving was especially important My breath clouded the front window as I waited for the first Halloween costume kids to arrive. Outside, the oncoming night changed.

The darkening world lost its clearness. The streetlight at the corner had become merely an ominous glow. Pumpkin on the doorstep glowed through the carved screaming mouth. This was the kind of night where I could picture Jack the Ripper prowling the London streets. All sorts of weird things creeping about the world. Too bad it wasn't clear enough for the candy crazed kids to see the nearby cemetery, I thought. Good mood. I felt I could use it for something scary when I passed it this afternoon.

But the poor weather had already settled in killing that idea. I was sure of it because I had already scared myself being there. Those two freshly dug graves stood out in the... the growing mist. A couple of our classmates, but definitely not kids me or my friends will be caught dead hanging around with. They never fit in. It seemed there was nothing they could be part of, always looking and acting nerdy.

It was more fun making snide remarks and getting a few laughs at their expense. Still, the accident was an awful way to go. chewed up by the train the way they were. It just proved to me that they were losers right to the end. Who isn't smart enough or just observant enough to not see a train coming? Seemed funny thinking about it, but the odd sound I had heard kind of killed that. It drifted in the quiet, empty fog, intruded cemetery air. A kind of shuffling noise.

the way someone moving about in your clothes closet might sound, and also what seemed like voices mumbling, as though spoken from far away. Well, that's something I better stop thinking about. I rummaged my hands through a pile of candy for trick-or-treaters and glanced in the direction of the cemetery. Pushing away the unsettling thoughts, I wondered if parents would let their kids out in this.

Not all drivers were as careful as my parents, even in such poor conditions. The whole night could be a bust. Then I heard the thud of feet racing across the lawn. Doorbell chimed. My hands closed around the candy and I went to open the front door. Trick or treat, said the vampire, Frankenstein, and zombie. I plopped candy into each bang. Two of the children backed away and disappeared in the mist, a few freet from the door.

The last child thanked me and slipped into the gloom, saying, Excuse me as he ran away. I assumed the zombie boy had bumped into another child, but no one approached. The outdoor light barely penetrated 20 feet. A few leaves crackled. I could feel the moistness of the fog on my face. I stepped on to the front stoop, paring into the fog. My foot bumped the pumpkin.

It wobbled but stayed upright. There was an unusual smell. Come get your candy, I said into the haze. No tricks, just treats. Children's voices rose in the distance, but no one came forward. Don't be afraid, I said, and as nice a voice as I am comuster. I've got lots of candy. You can have your pick.

Something moved, but it could have been the breeze, tossing leaves. I moved back inside and closed the door, peering out the windows didn't reveal a thing. Odd child, I thought. Promises of candy usually overcome any shyness. Maybe I'll follow the next bunch of kids in. The doorbell startled me. I hadn't seen a thing or heard any thumping feet. Hesitantly I opened the door.

A movie starlight and a Cinderella greeted me with the usual trick-of-tree. I answered with a handful of candies scanning the darkness beyond them. Did you guys tiptoe up? I asked. I didn't hear you. We waited for the other two, Cinderella replied. Great costumes, little Marilyn Monroe said. But they just stepped back to where we couldn't see them. Both girls giggled and ran off.

I stood there. For a moment, the fog, catching the weak light from the street lamp, seemed to reveal a shape. Bill? Arnie? That you? I asked. Come on, guys.

The fog shifted into shapeless. Nothing. You'll have to do better than this. Just get in here. I'm going to be late going out. Quiet. Even the voices of the children disappeared from the night. I was determined not to let my buddies get to me and close the door.

Just in case I went to the back porch and turned on the light to be sure no pranks were being pulled. Only the fog swirled. A knock at the door. Not hard, but with some insistence. For a moment I hesitated. expecting the chimes from a well-lit doorbell. Then I saw a bobbing skull in the window. I opened the door and the skeleton said trick-a-treat and a tiny voice again.

I gave him candy. Then the child turned and said, How come it's so cold near your house? I just shook my head and watched the boy leave. A breeze blew into my face. It did seem colder. and oddly the fog now seemed to insulate me from the rest of the world. All their sounds became lost in the swirling murkiness.

I heard nothing except that wispy noise your ears make in the quiet night. A car rolled slowly down the street, unseen except from the glow of its lights. I waited to see if it would turn up my driveway, but it didn't. The ghostly beam silhouetted trees and shrubs. and the fence near the sidewalk, two figures in the center of the lawn. They stood there like statues off their pedesters, unmoving. For some reason, I could tell they were facing my way. Suddenly they appeared, surrounded in a reddish shimmer,

as the car's lights lit up fog. afterward the ghostly mist blinked them out hello i yelled i wanted to retreat back into the house but i couldn't why don't you just come and get your candy this is halloween uh candy's here for the taking a soft wind blew it carried that odd smell i waved my hand in front of my nose remembering the time i came across mr Perkins dead cat. Something else had obviously died, I thought. Russell leaves broke the silence. Kids coming up the lawn, but they always seemed to run.

And this was something slow, shoving leaves aside instead of stepping on them. I heard another sound. Not really breathing. More like someone weakly coughing up, something caught in. its throat. When rose shedding the fog, those same shapes again stepped from the mist. Cloth dangled from what I took to be arms and legs. Kids for sure, but the body parts didn't fit right.

Parts missing or attached in odd angles. Briefly, ever so briefly, the fog thin. Suddenly, the once hidden moon shot a shaft of light onto the lawn, glinting off moist bodies, and reflecting from eyes that stared dead. I stepped back. My foot caught the pumpkin enough to make me trim. I tried to scramble to my feet, but I couldn't move. Afraid, I left out a soft gasp.

My racing heart accompanied queasiness in my stomach. The two forms shuffled closer. Lifeless eyes focus on me. Now I could see the flesh dangling from their cheeks. Hair matted with dirt and a twisted torso. At first, lying there, I marveled at what I considered to be the best costume I had ever seen. It even drove away the fear. But where were the bags?

and the fear again pounced and the acid in my stomach rushed to my throat when both figures smiled. I saw the broken teeth and the drippings flowing from the sides of their mouths, but what finally made me tremble and cry out was the shaft of moonlight that flowed through a hole in their cheek of one of them into a black. I yelled and lay there staring. The two fingers approached.

I saw flesh sliding from one cheek. It could only mumble and feel myself losing as they bent over me. One lifted a gnarly hand and pointed. Stuff ooze from its slimy skin and dripped on my leg. The cadaverous boy asked, I just stammered and managed to ask. Why? How can this... But my voice choked.

like someone strangling me. The other man's shape, the boy said. We just want you to know something. The boys stepped back and stood as straight as they could. One boy started to speak. My head began to swim. Things felt blurry as I watched a bug crawl from the hole in his neck. The boy said in a raspy voice, like something struggling out of goon.

Looked up the other boy, and they both lifted their chins proudly. I think we'd find my fingers scraping the cement to get away. My vision blurred as I struggled to avoid those decomposing hands reaching down for me. Those last moments before I fainted away, I twisted, staring at the pumpkin. And hot thought struck me. The silent, frozen scream on my face must have looked just like the pumpkins. 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 email.com for further information on obtaining the rights necessary to rebroadcast or distribute a particular story.