Creepy - Day 5 - Biggest Lie Ever Told & Welcome to Butchery Bog

Episode Date: October 5, 2022

Biggest Lie Ever Told***Written by: No One of Consequence and Narrated by: Michelle Kane***Content Warning: Religious themes***Welcome to Butchery Bog***Written by: S.L. Hall***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 are simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of books. Violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised.

Creepy presents. The 31 Days of Horror. Day 5. Biggest lie ever told. Written by known of consequence and narrated by Michelle Kane. Halloween is a favorite holiday for so many. But not me. Outside of the classics, I hate horror movies.

These days, they rely on jump scares and too much gore, making it far from believable in favor of just being gross. My husband loved that stuff, and it was his job to take our kids trick-or-treating. I'd stay home, waiting eagerly for them to get back. Handing out candy was fine since the kids came up to me, and there was little chance of getting scared. Seven months ago, my husband was sick. in an accident. He was at work and some idiot he worked with wasn't paying attention to what he was doing. Mark was a good, honest man that believed in the American dream. He worked hard to provide a comfortable life for us, and knowing his labors were paying off made him happy. Mark loved to

build things and preferred to fix things himself rather than pay someone to do it. He believed in self-reliance and always looked to the future, wanting to make sure we were never going to endure hardships. Both of my parents were lawyers, and they took it upon themselves to sue these shit out of the company and the idiot responsible for his death. I said I didn't care about the money, and I don't, but I'll admit it's nice not to have to work anymore.

Still, a life without Mark is half a life at best. Sometimes I wake in the middle of the middle of the world, of the night and reach over for him, only to end up crying. Nights aren't even the hardest time for me. Storms are. Heavy rain would always bring him home since he worked outside. We'd sit on the couch looking out at the storm and make love. I'll never get over his loss, and I will spend my nights in an empty bed until I join him

in heaven. Dean and Ellen missed their father, but being six and seven, it's easy. on them than it is me. They know Daddy is in heaven among the angels, and that's enough for them. I do as much as I can to make up for his absence, but it'll get harder when they're older. I cherish these early years with them, full of smiles, laughter, and hugs. They did get sad when we went shopping for the Halloween costumes, but I promised to take them trick-or-treating. Sure, I could have let my in-laws take them, but I'm their only parent, and I won't let them down.

However, Pastor Tannis convinced me to bring them to the haunted house at the church this year. They whined because they'd miss out on trick-or-treating candy, but I told them there'd be plenty. That's what Tannis had assured me, and what man of God would lie to a widow. Pulling up to the church, I have to park in the back. Both parking lots are full, and it takes some doing to find a space. There's enough spaces for at least 200 cars, and the fact that it's full puts me at ease.

This is a very good community, the safest in the state, and I count six police officers at the back entrance. I know there were more at the front, plus two directing traffic at the road. I'll still be on guard, but not nearly as much as I would have if we were trick-or-treating in the neighborhood. Walking hand-in-hand, I escort my children through the parking lot. Dean is dressed up as the gruff older brother from the show Supernatural, a bit of influence from me and Mark since it was one of our favorite shows. For a candy bag, he's got a small duffel bag, and of course I had to get him one of those green and orange pistols,

similar to the one that character carries. Ellen's costume is also based off a character her father and I loved. Even though the movie tends to scare the Pichesis out of me. She's wearing gray pants, a white t-shirt, a thin black harness with white and red sneakers. Her candy bag is a small shoulder back, and she's carrying two large, brightly colored Nerf guns taped together. The movie came out before I was born,

and I think people won't understand who she's supposed to be. But I wasn't going to give her a name tag with the name Ripley on it. I think it's cute, and besides, Mark and I came up with the idea last year. The officers at the back entrance are holding bowls of candy and giving all the kitties a few pieces. I greet them as we approach, knowing them all by name since they attend this church too.

Also, I had dealings with some of them due to Mark's accident. All six of them go nuts over the kid's costumes, so different from the others. One of the female officers tells Ellen that Ripley had been her idol when she was a kid

and makes my little girl smile. The male officers are praising Dean for his outfit, asking if he really likes Led Zeppelin, which he appropriately responds to you with Zeppelin rules. I don't have the heart to tell him. The song he starts humming as we walk away is actually Metallica. I expect to walk into a dark entrance with fake spider webs all over the place and artificial fog covering the floor, but it's as brightly lit and normal as it is every Sunday. This area of the church is where the Sunday school classrooms are, along with the administrative offices. Both entrances feed into this area and its nearly wall-to-wall bodies, mostly small ones.

The entryway to the rest of the church is a large set of double doors made of dark wood. The doors are open and a temporary wall bisects it. On one side, I see people going in and the other has people coming out. From what little I see, the space beyond has all the things I expected to see in the entrance, and a lot more. I've been dreading this part, and it shows. One of the younger administrators, a 20-something woman named Julie, comes over to us. She tells me groups of ten are taken into the haunted house with a chaperon, and her group is too shy. I've seen her many Sundays. I believe she actually teaches one of the teenage classes. Deciding to leave my children in her care is a big step for me.

Outside of Sunday in regular school, I go everywhere with my little angels. Children are more perceptive than people give them credit for. Dean notices my hesitation and pulls me down to his level. Don't worry, Mommy. He says as he pulls out his toy pistol and pulls back the slide like he's loading his first round. I ain't afraid of no ghost. and he whispers in my ear, I'll look out for Ellen.

Even though he's the younger of the two, Dean is protective. Last month, I got called to the principal's office because Dean pushed an older kid for picking on Ellen. The other kid's parents were throwing a fit because their kid ended up with a split lip. They had also been under the impression my son instigated the altercation, but were quickly put in their place by the principal.

No punishment was doled out, but warnings weren't given. Did I mention the principal is my husband's cousin? Anyway, I tell my precious boy, I know you will. I kiss them both before I release them into Julie's care. Watching them go through the dark entrance to the haunted house, I'm relieved. As soon as they go through, someone screams and it makes me jump. I go back outside and bum a smoke off of one of the officers. I don't have them often, but since Mark's death, I've picked the habit back up.

We both quit when we found out I was pregnant with Ellen. The trip through the haunted house will last at most 20 minutes, so I make it back inside before they come out. I take the time to look over the pictures we took before leaving the house. My in-laws came over to hand out candy while we're gone and to see the kids in their costumes. We took our traditional pictures, and I placed them in my Halloween album. Scrolling through, I come across pictures of last year.

Mark and the kids were all dressed, superheroes. Tears escape my eyes as I noticed Julie coming out of the haunted house. I waste no time getting to her and demand to know where my children are. Her group is too short, and my worst fears begin shooting through me. Julie tries to calm me down and tells me there's a split-off inside the haunted house. One path leads to the exit and candy, while the other leads to Pastor Tannis and a special service with communion. I want to slap her so badly, but I just growl at her. You should have told me this could happen. And I storm into the haunted house. Quickly, I understand the theme of the scary scenes the church has set up, even though I couldn't

care less right now. A man stands at a broken window with an assault rifle, dead bodies littering the room around him covered in blood. He screams hateful. things out the window as the weapon makes fake gunshot noises, pretending to shoot it a crowd, I assume. There's a sign hanging from the ceiling that has the word wrath printed on it, and I find this rather appropriate because my wrath is on the rise, and it allows me to blow through this crap, my anger making me ignore what would normally frighten me. I barely register the next few rooms but catch snippets here and there. One room, pried, I think, had a mad scientist type working on a body laid out on a table, the chest cavity exposed.

All I noticed of lust was a man chained to a large wooden X and a woman in leather with a whip. After the fifth room, I came into a room that is rather plain. The dim lighting allows me to see an unnaturally tall man in a black hooded cloak standing between two doors. The one on the left has a sign that says glut to be. and greed. The one on the right says salvation. With a deep voice, the man tells me, if I wish to have all the candy I can carry, I should take the door to gluttony and greed. However, if I desire the righteous path, then take the door to salvation and be led to heaven by Pastor Tannis. Most kids would obviously choose the path to candy. Halloween is the one time they're allowed to be greedy and gluttonous.

However, I know my children and the thought of seeing their father again is a far stronger pull than any sweets. It's no wonder they chose salvation. Mark used to tell them, no matter the options, always choose the righteous path. God will favor those who choose well. I go through the door to salvation, trying to curb my wrath. That's not my children's fault, but I do have a few choice words for Pastor Tamp. and the planning committee for this. The room is a very small chapel with two benches in front of an altar. Pastor Tanis reads aloud from a large green tone, not his normal Bible for sure. A father and two small children receive communion, drinking the wine and eating the wafers.

I'm aware of this going on, but I'm transfixed by the doorway on the far wall. It's filled with a white and blue swirling light, almost a little. like a portal in that crude yet hilarious cartoon with the scientist's grandfather. Pastor Tannis leads the three to the doorway and tells them the kingdom of heaven awaits. As I watch, the three walk into the light and completely disappear, the sound of liquid splashing as they go through. There's no one else in the room, meaning my children went through whatever for the hell that is and I am livid. I get right in his face, even pinning him to the wall.

I demand to know where my children are, and he's panicked, as he tells me. While looking through the church archives, he came across a green tone that was full of ancient rituals, prayers, and all sorts of healing practices. In it, he found a doorway that leads directly to heaven, and that's what the swirling light is. He promised my children they would be reunited with their father if they willingly accepted communion and stepped through. For someone devout, this is an ideal situation. Since Mark's death, God and I haven't exactly been on the best of terms. This sounds too good to be true, and I'm incredibly skeptical, but my children went through, so I will too. I'd walk into hell itself

to get my family back. I just hope that's not what I'm doing. Pastor Tannis reads a passage from the green book and offers me communion. The wine tastes odd, sickly sweet, and a bit too thick to be normal. As for the wafer, it was an ordinary disc of bread, but anointed with the bitter oil that made me wince. Walking to the portal, I close my eyes to the brightness and step through. Instantly I feel disturbingly lighter and oddly warm. Opening my eyes, I expect to be in another room inside the church. What I see is the top of a desert plateau surrounded by angry mountains and a sky full of orange storming clouds.

The three I watched up through the portal are yards in front of me, crouched down and screaming at the sky above us, Looking up, I see winged men flying above. Picturesque angels with swords in outstretched arms. They swoop down as a group and swarm the huddled family. My eyes go wide with horror as the angels not only hack them to pieces, but expose bright lights within and devour them until there is nothing left. As they ascend into the sky again, I expect to see a bloody mess behind.

but there's nothing. Fear grips my heart, thinking the same fate be felt like innocent children and I want to scream before I can. Huh? I hear a voice.

I hear a voice I haven't heard in months scream out to me. Lana! My head snaps in the direction it came from and I see another angel standing with sword drawn. He is an Adonis, perfectly chiseled muscles,

and pale flesh sporting a golden tan. I know the flesh was pale ones, because Mark didn't like the sun enough to tan. He stands with our children at his back and a handful of angels trying to get to them. With the ferocity I didn't know he had, Mark brutalizes the other angels with his sword until they take flight.

Instead of circling, they fly to the mountains. Running to them, I once again feel my husband's embrace, his strong arms holding me tight as he kisses me. Tears flow down my face as I hold him, telling him how much I've missed him. I expect him to say the same, but his tone is harsh and urgent. Lana, please, you have to listen to me.

Mark, the love of my life, my soulmate, lays it all out for me as quickly as he can. If he takes his time, the others will come back, and he won't be able to hold them all off. Mark isn't an angel. He's a warrior's spirit that was recruited when he died. His anger at the idiot that killed him and took him away from us was so strong. It almost sent him to hell. The real angels, horrible-looking creatures that don't resemble humans at all, are in an all-at-war, not only with demons, but things we never knew about. In order to get the upper hand in battle,

youthful souls wandering the deserts of heaven are being cannibalized to increase the warrior's spirit's power. What we've always been led to believe about heaven is a lie. There's no paradise for those that die. The closest that exists is a desert oasis where the old souls are too weak to boost a warrior's power hide. Not even the demons will touch them. Pastor Tannis opened a gateway to the desert two weeks ago and made a deal with a warrior that was going to cannibalize him. To spare his soul and to be allowed to return to his body, he promised dozens of souls to be delivered to this plateau.

There have been 26 so far. I need you to take our kids back and close the door so no one else takes the word of a false prophet. That's my husband. even dead and shown God's love is a lie, he still chooses the righteous path. I want to say so many things to him, but flying figures start swarming in our direction from the distant mountains. With love, he hugs us all one last time and practically shoves us through the swirling light. All three of us gasp for breath as we wake up on the other side of the doorway.

bodies lit her at the floor, and I check one of them for a pulse. Before my children can take it all in, I grab them by the hands and drag them out the back door. The officer that commented on Ellen's costume sees us coming, and I leave them in her care as I take the other officers to the Salvation Room. My wrath is back, stronger than ever, and I think this will be the last time I stepped foot in a church. For your bonus episode, Creepy Presents, Welcome to Butchery Bog, written by S. L. Hall. Halloween special in our town.

It's the main event we wait for each year. Sure, we have fairs celebrating the heat of the summer and peppermint festivals for those snowy days. But it's the month of October that sends our residents into a frenzy. Pumpkin farms spur up, offering candy apples, cider, and donuts. Every weekend the town park is filled with some kind of Halloween event, costume contests, parades, and the like. Downtown storefront spew orange, black, and purple as far as the block reaches. It's pure joy to experience a Halloween like this. No one knows when it began.

The legends have been around for ages. There are no cursory. tales or ghost stories. The residents seem to have this urge they can't quite figure out to experience Halloween at its fullest. To set the decorations just right and have that perfect costume in preparation for the enchanted Halloween house. It's the house of houses after all.

Only allowing residents in on this magical night. However, the house does not exist in current day. You can't deliver the mail or ring the bell. It's simply not there. The house only appears on Halloween night, from dusk until midnight. It appears at the back of the Little League field on the edge of the woods. This dark gray Victorian-style house trimmed in deep purple looking nothing like the rest of the town. Colored sheets of light escape through every door and window, inviting the town in.

Each year the kids and adults alike, dressed in their best costume, approached the house with excitement. You see, when you walk in, it wasn't just a house you entered. The house was only the beginning. It was spectacular. Beautifully crafted turrets reached high into the night. Steep roofs slanted to sharp edges. Large bay windows sat knowingly on either side of the wide stairs. leading up to the porch. Stained glass decorated every frame and opening you could imagine.

Blues, greens, oranges, and purples reached out painting the porch. Inside, lard bannisters flowed up to the third floor. Great rooms loomed their richness. With crown molding wrapped in gold and silver, starred wallpaper, you swear was twinkling before your eyes. Chair rails wrapped in fabric so soft it felt like feathers. Room so tall you'd swear there was no second floor. Decorations did not disappoint. Ceramic pumpkins, sparkled oranges and purples, twinkle lights dangle from the ceilings, entangling the house in soft hue.

Ghosts fluttered above like they weren't even tethered, all of it making for a spectacular evening. Kids were bobbing for apples, decorating pumpkins, making mummies. The hosts always ensured the sweets were a plenty, with spider cookies, back cupcakes, eyeball marangs, and spooky cauldrons with punch set out. They never spoke much,

only observed with their wide, sparkling eyes. As usual, all were dressed to match the house, dark grays and purples, as if they were part of it. After the folks were satisfied with the face paintings and apple bobbing, they would exit the back of the house, stepping under the cobblestone streets. The street lamps flickered, casting long shadows down the streets.

The houses dabbed the blocks showing off their class with long porches, steeped roofs with the same sharp edges and colored light dancing about. Mums with their fall colors spotted the perfectly manicured yards. Decorations were spectacular as the main house. Ghosts fluttered above the house. houses. Lavish-carved pumpkins sat glowing on porches and street corners. Black lace strung over

the railings and lights. Purple lanterns glowed and paper-machet bats floated around freely. Trick-or-treaters ran about, gathering goodies, excited to see what each house would bring. It was a time away, into another world with no worries. There were fields at each end of the town. The corn mazes at one end were always the big hit. easy ones for young kids and those tough ones for the older generations. The challenge to escape the tall mazes, sending people running in all directions. Decorated with scarecrows and witches among the dried thick cornstalk walls. No escape was to be had.

The other end offered hayrides in the woods decorated by lanterns sparkled throughout. The wagon circled under canopies of maple leaves and tall purple, withsteria trees. Riders began the journey with laughter and excitement. Hushed tones took over waiting for that frightening encounter with a witch flying through the trees or a werewolf heard in the distance. Lantern seemed to dim the deeper into the woods they went.

It was the perfect Halloween. The town mayor went to head home early, said good night to the folks you passed, smiling, tipping his hat, making his rounds one last time. finally approaching the front door the stand-up Victorian house. The door was locked. The knob turned, but the door wouldn't budge.

Strange. He went to the great room on the left. The windows wouldn't open. Great room on the right. Wouldn't budge. Priskly he walked through the back door not wanting to alarm the rest of the townsfolk. locked tight starting to panic he tugged and pounded on the back door

why wouldn't it open the people around him realized what was happening and began to hurriedly run to the doors and windows there was no escape no one could get out no one get in metal slabs came crashing down covering the windows and doors slowly the chair molding flipped down and this shiny metal started to roll out, creeping out very slowly.

A gentleman leaned forward and ran his finger across it. Thin and sharp it sliced deep into his skin. And whoosh, it cut through waist deep. Metal slashed through bone and flesh, clanging when it met the middle from wall to wall. Body parts fell. Blood pooled over the oak. and wooden floors. Silence.

Outside, you could hear the happy sounds of laughter. No idea of what to come. The mazes began to come alive. The cornstalks greedily stretched out, pulling people back into the walls. The scarecrow's hugged and choked those closest to them, shoving them back up the posts they fell from. The witches flew hard and fast, smashing people into the ground. The screams never left the field, like a bubble enclosing all the chaos.

No one down the block was aware of the horrors this house was going to bring. When the screams quieted, the mazes were soaked in blood. The hayride took fright to a new level. The lanterns went out all at once. Screams started when people were being ripped off the wagon by a forest they could not see. The horsemen had vanished. The wagons were no longer moving. Confusion struck the passengers.

Growls were creeping in, getting closer and closer. The were coming. They rammed the wagon, sending it flying off the forest road. People were tossed around like rag dolls. Carnage ensued as the animals erupted with bone-crushing force, tearing into the flesh, spewing intestines and order. into the air. Again, after the screams went silent, blood sat stickily over the forest floor. Back in the center of the small magical town, the trick-or-treaters were happily trotting about.

Not a worry. The purple lanterns began to float into the black starless sky, glowing more brilliant as they went up and up. Everyone stopped to watch. What a magnificent sight! Shades of purple danced above their heads. Smoke like limbs began to swirl and shoot from the lanterns. Houses began to close their doors. Lights turned off. Mesmerized by the sight, no one noticed.

Small purple clouds formed and floated down. Soon there were hundreds of them, drifting around feet, sailing around arms, looking so velvety and soft. They began to grab at them. poking into the plushness. Purple smoke exploded into the air, each one making a subtle popping sound. The vapors spread quickly, covering the town in mere seconds.

Inhaling the toxic gas, people began clawing at their throats, fighting for air, slowly succumbing to the purple darkness. Bodies stood still. There were no screams. No one fell over or passed out. They stood still as statues. Hearts did not beat. Highs did not blink.

Not a hair fluttered. Boom. Bodies exploded sending bits and pieces flying back into the dark starless sky. In the silence, midnight chimes struck. The house in its blood-soaked streets, fields and wagons, creeped away from the edge of the Little League field, evaporating into the dark green behind it. Its residents have been fed. Sunrise rose across the town, a slight frost in the air.

Homes were dark, diners were empty, businesses didn't run, vacated by unknown forces. A few days passed, a sound could be heard in the distance. horns, vehicles. It was like a convoy, moving trucks, family vans, all barreling in. A large black vehicle looking like something between a hearse and an escalade seemed to be leading the pack. Everyone came to a stop in the center of town. A man dressed in a rather elegant manner stepped out of the black vehicle. He was wearing a dark gray suit and some kind of strange pattern in a deep purple.

decorated it. He was simple and straight to the point. Welcome to Butchery Bog, he exclaimed, named for the first settlers of the village who were famed for pig farming. I welcome you to call this home. You will find everything you need here and more. Families dispersed off to houses and shops, knowing right where to go. The diner open. Firemen were manning the station. A paper boy was bicycling through, the town was bustling again. The strange man, seemingly satisfied with his work, returned to his vehicle, pausing before he fully entered, glancing around at the busy streets, a sly smile spreading across his face.

With his hand paused on the door, the pattern shone in the sunlight. Faces appeared on it. Faces stuck in a screaming, agonizing pose. The town was alive again. People seemed happy with a fresh start in a new town, unpacking belongings, making the houses their own, for however long they would be here,

planning for jobs and school to start, and this urge was creeping in, and excitement was growing, like it was in their blood to sunset. We can't wait for the next Halloween. For more information on this podcast, 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.

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