Creepy - Day 8 - Grandma's Bones Won't Stop Growing

Episode Date: October 8, 2020

Some miracle drugs are too good to be true...***Written by Mr. Michael Squid***See your donation rewards podcast at patreon.com/creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCQ3SrH_3fsROXFAjomKcUtw***Music 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 31 Days of Horror. Day 8. Grandma's bones won't stop growing. Written by Mr. Michael Squid. My grandma suffered from arthritis for her entire adult life. Her hands were stiff and her fingers perpetually curled. Her thick, gnarled knuckles always creeped me out as a child.

Back in November, her excitement colored her voice as she explained to my father that she was selected to participate in a trial for a new drug that had very promising results for people suffering from rheumatoid arthritis. I spoke to her occasionally after she'd started the medication and she sounded thrilled with the results. She would ramble gleefully on about how she'd regain mobility and can fully extend her fingers for the first time in over a decade. Thanksgiving was fast approaching, and we were all looking forward to seeing her.

When the holiday arrived, however, we noticed her peculiar behavior. After gnaissance hors d'oeuvres and marveling at her new phone agility, we all shared our recent life events as the savory flavors of turkey and stuffy. and filled the house. It wasn't until we took our places at the table that the tone shifted from warm and welcoming to unsettling. Our small family was seated at the table, hungrily eyeing the spread when Grandma jumped up from her chair and began shaking violently before erupting in a harsh scream.

After a few seconds she sat down as if nothing at all had happened and turned to me. Sweetie, do you mind passing the stuffing? Grandma was in her 80s, and Alzheimer's runs in the family. Naturally, we worried the medications you've been taking might have triggered an episode. Dad made a few doctor's appointments. After a few cognitive tests and bewildered scratching of heads, they scheduled an MRI. After the scan, they explained something was peculiar about her skull. My father showed me the printouts of the MRI.

The profile cross-section of her head, showed a skull that was very thick, bumpy, and misshapen, and the brain itself looked to be pressed inward in one spot near the back. He told me the doctor was lost as what could have taken place. But they mentioned fibrodisplasia ossifikins progressive, FOP, a rare genetic disorder in which tissue is ossified, replaced by bone. FOP doesn't just manifest later in life, however. regardless, they ceased the drug trials in case something was triggered by the new medication.

My grandma protested, but I eventually agreed and reluctantly surrendered the pill bottle. The doctor discussed monitoring her behavior, and she was given a prescription for dexamethosone, a more traditional arthritis medication. I visited with my father a week later. We drove to her large house and spent relaxing afternoon playing gin rummy. Grandma was in good spirits, but it was impossible to ignore the occasional tick or twitch. Eventually, we said our goodbyes, and both Dad and I determined to visit more frequently and make sure she was doing all right.

Two weeks later, I was back at her house after promising to join her for lunch. I was startled when she opened the door to greet me. Grandma looked different. Her face was undeniably longer than before, and her eyes looked out of place. like her eye sockets had migrated upward and outward on her large head. She was a bit taller, too. It was shocking. She had grown at least two inches since our last visit.

After gaping at me, her open mouth showing long yellow teeth, she finally smiled and spoke. Oh, it's good to see you. Come in! I breathed in relief at hearing her voice, but only slightly. I had to force myself to smile and not stare at the strange-looking woman in the doorframe. She was taller and lankier, and her wrinkles seemed to smooth out from thin, stretched skin on an elongated frame. It was a truly unsettling sight.

I came in and began to relax as we talked about books in the weather. Grandma would shiver or twitch on occasion, but she seemed to be well, despite her startling appearance. I said my goodbyes and reported back to my father, who seemed concerned. It wasn't for another month and a half before I saw Grandma again, and it would be the last time. My father rushed into my room as I was planning my senior thesis. He informed me Grandma wasn't answering her phone, and he couldn't visit as there had been a serious accident at his work. I agreed and took the keys as he headed out. After a short drive, I was at the house.

I noticed the lights were off aside from a single naked bulb on the second story. I tried not to think of her misshapen head and bizarre growth spurts. I knocked on her front door to no reply. Worry swelled within me as I stood outside in the dimming blue light of dusk, listening for a reply. I tried ringing the doorbell. No answer. I called out.

denouncing my presence. Hey, grandma, it's me. Are you home? A muffled distant thump and crash joined the sound of crickets from the surrounding trees. I tried the door, finding it open, and entered into the dim interior. The house was cold and still.

No sign of her. I was startled by the thumping sound of running feet from the floor above me, and I needed to take a few deep breaths to slow my pounding heart. "'Grandma, it's me. Mike, your grandson. Dad wanted me to make sure you were okay.'

I began climbing the winding stairs to the second floor. I just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. I then heard a faint crackling that grew louder with every step I took upward. I made it to the top of the stairs and scanned the fuzzy shadows, searching in vain for a light switch, A snapping click from down the hall drew my attention. In the darkness, a tall form moved closer until a silver sliver of moonlight to find the contour of its shape. It stood roughly seven feet tall.

Her now long, slender arms and legs protruded in various places from knobs of sporadic calcium growth, poking the skin from within. The neck was far too long, like something below. longing to a goose. It looked as if half the spine had sprouted out the top of the clavicles. An oversized head veiled in shadow dangled like a grotesque puppet. I was grateful the lights were out. I didn't want to see what the face looked like.

Grandma? My voice escaped in a squeaky, shaking plea. I watched in horror as the large head cocked with a crunch. The moonlight caught the eyes Which had migrated to the edges of that strange, terrible head And then it screamed That scream was a howling sound Raspy and deep, confused and aggressive

I stumbled backward and fell as the limber long arms Of that large figure reached out towards me Reaching pale branches of stretch skin over knotted, warped bones. I scrambled backward, as splayed hands with stick-like fingers fell to land on the carpet with a pacey thud. It was now on all fours like some unearthly antelope. I watched and tears spun within my skull as it began bounding toward me.

It closed the distance between us in seconds, and I screamed as horror racked my brain. The long humanoid form raced by me, followed by a rush of gamey wind. The thing then leapt up and burst through the second-story window, shattering the glass with an explosive crash. I stayed on the ground, frozen with fear for a few moments before I could finally move. When I gathered the courage to approach the shattered window, it was gone, vanished into the woods behind Grandma's house. my grandma hasn't been found

despite a search of the woods they theorize whatever I'd seen must have been an animal and perhaps my grandma was taken by predators or maybe she just wandered off into the woods and a fit of dementia we did hear about a few strange animal sightings and farmers in the vicinity of reported missing livestock

despite the incidents nobody seems to take the account my father and I shared very seriously. The doctorhood ministered the medication claimed there must have been some genetic anomaly as the cause. None of the other patients experienced any side effects. And with Grandma gone, any chance to study and understand it seems to have vanished with her, at least until today. I was brushing my teeth when I heard the scream. A shocking animal howled it caused my heart to race. I followed the horrible sound into the hallway and saw my father standing there.

He was quivering, convulsing as if in seizure, and his jaw was wide open from emitting that awful scream. His face looked strange, ever so slightly different, as if his features had shifted in the night just a centimeter here or there. Dad! I shouted, and he snapped out of the horrific paroxysm. Hey there, off to work! He said chipperly.

I shivered, observing his strange features as he grabbed his keys and headed out the door. He made one observation before exiting the house and heading off to work. One that confirmed the dreadful concern roiling in my mind. Funny! This shirt seems to have shrunk, he said, and my stomach twisted in knots. From the Patreon Vault. Creepy presents, the Willow Man. Written by listener and Patreon supporter Scott Roche, submitted for consideration at the creepypod subreddit.

You guys have been asking me all summer how I lost my legs and wound up in this wheelchair. I put you off and put you off, but... I guess tonight's as good as any to put the rumors to rest. This isn't my first year at Camp Waukima. I've been going here for four years. Next year I hope I'll be the first concert with a disability. I'll also be the first one who is a victim of the Willow Man. Why was he called that?

Well. The story I heard is that he was a kid just like you and me back when the camp first opened in the 50s. He died down by the lake. Some say it was drowning. Others say it was horseplay than went too far. I think it was just that he'd gotten picked on too much and finally snapped. He's a skinny kid like you, J.R.D. He also wore braces from polio. Ask your mom what it is, Richardson. Anyway, the bigger kids were unmerciful. One night he just flipped out and was beaten to death by a group of bullies.

They buried his body down in the Willows. Week later, the bullies started to get injured, one by one. It would never happen in plain view of anyone else, and no one liked to talk about how it happened. Mostly it involved them losing a toe or breaking a leg. Willow man liked to slow down his victims. Like them to know what it was like to have to hobble a little. Anyway, fast forward a few decades.

well a man hadn't gotten to take any new victims in a while. Camp had policies against bullying and the counselors did a good job of enforcing the buddy system. People got slack though. The second year I came to camp, no one even warned us. There was a new kid that year. Rossi. He had some kind of thing that many had to be in a wheelchair. Smart kid. Voice of an angel.

But he was like a siren song to anyone who wanted someone. one smaller, weaker, just different to pick on. I'm not proud of it. I was one of several, but that don't make it right. I sharpened a stick and would poke him every chance I got. Ask him if you could feel that. I asked him if you'd ever made it with a girl. That was a great abut hole to him.

Late one night, I had to go to the bathroom. I was supposed to get someone to come with me. But let's get another guy to go to the crapper with him. Back then we still had to leave the cabins to use essential showers. We didn't have TV either. On the way back, that's when I heard it, the squeak. Of course, I didn't know what that was. It's the rust and muck that built up on his braces.

No, coolly, you dumbass, not the ones on his teeth. The ones like Forrest Gump wore. Shit, you kids need to watch a movie. Like the kid on Breaking Bad, Savvy. They kept his legs stiff so he could walk. As I walked back to the cabin, I heard the Willow Man's braces moving faster and faster. I tried running, but I kept tripping. Every time I fell down, he'd get closer.

I was 20 feet from the cabin when I felt the crutch hit me on my back. I went spilling into the dirt. When I looked up, I saw the figure of a man covered in mud and weeds. He stumbled towards me, squishing and creaking. You'll learn to keep your stick to yourself. Those words were barely understandable. It brought one of the crutches down on my shins. I tried to scream, God's honest truth, I did.

I lay there squirming in the mud, crying like a baby. That's when I felt the first. sharp pain of metal on my calf. I looked down and he was putting his braces on me. They weren't the nice metal and fiberglass frames you might see today. They look like they were made from the barbed wire from Old Man Johnson's farm, covered in cow shit and lake mud. He put the second one on and then began beating on me,

driving the metal points home. Maybe I should put one on your pecker. He cackled. and gas that smelled like cow farts came out of his mouth. At some point I passed out from the pain. I didn't wake up until morning light streaming down on my face. My legs hurt so bad. I was afraid to look, but eventually I had to.

When I did, I was horrified to see the holes in my skin. They had to amputate. By the time I'd gotten to the hospital, the rot was too bad. They said it was that flesh-eating bacteria, but I knew better. It was a will-o-man. Come to remind me not to be a dick to kids. For more information, including pictures and videos of the stories told on this podcast, or to suggest stories for future episodes, please visit us.

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