Creepy - Day 9 - New Baby Smell & When It Snows on Halloween

Episode Date: October 9, 2022

New Baby Smell***Written By: R.T. Raynaud and Narrated By: Alicia Atkins***Content Warning: Mistreatment/Manipulation of Vulnerable Persons, Reproductive Assault, Graphic Depictions Of Abortion, Dead Babies***When It Snows On Halloween***Written by: Becks Scardaci and Narrated by: Megan McDuffee***Check out our reward tiers at patreon.com/creepypod***Sound Design by Pacific Obadiah***Title music by Alex Aldea***Intro/Outro Narration by Joe Stofko Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Welcome to the bloody disgusting network. No. This is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepy pastors and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened or simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence. and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised.

Creepy presents The 31 Days of Horror. Day 9. New Baby Smell Written by R.T. Rayno and narrated by Alicia Actins. I watched the bag of popcorn inflate in the microwave as I slowly sip my beer.

I'm dreading this process. I just know Regina is going to say you some shit about how it tastes burnt, regardless of how long it actually was in there cooking. The interaction to come has me taking longer swigs of my beer, just to take the edge off. It's from your janky-ass microwave. I cooked it as long as the bag told me to. Will be my response. Everyone knows that you don't just follow the directions on the bag.

will be her reply, without any rationale as to why following the direction is inappropriate when it comes to her microwave. I'm obviously not going to get into a screaming match with her defending my competency in heating a bag of popcorn, and neither my wife nor Regina's husband Greg will say anything in my defense that may incur her wrath when the comet has no effect, but to slightly elevate my blood pressure. So, the subtle little dig will stand unopposed, inevitably coming to rest in the limbic region of my brain, until it, along with all the other subtle little digs I've suffered from her over the years, reaches a critical mass, and manifests into an aneurysm one day while I'm taking a dump.

It's a Kobayashi-Maroo, the classic no-win situation. I don't even like popcorn. Regina is my wife's Sky's best friend since college. Not going to sugarcoat it. She's a judgmental cunt. I'm not a real big fan of the phrase, particularly in using it to describe someone else with a vagina. There's really just no better term to describe her.

Somehow, bitch doesn't quite capture the essence of how ridiculous she acts on the daily. In the decade it has been since we met, she's never liked me. I think causing my ignominious toilet death has been Regina's plan from day one. The idea that she's jealous of me, supplanting her as the most important person in Skye's life, has occurred to me.

Rubbing my fingers together, I realize they're coated with a thin film of grease, pulled from the handle of the microwave. It's the product of years of neglect. Greg and Regina really don't clean the microwave anywhere near as often as it's necessary. How someone this unreasonably dirty can be so judgmental is beyond me. Five, four, three, two, one.

I open the microwave and grab the piping hot bag. Risking life and limb, I open the bag and pour the steaming contents into a plastic bowl. As I watched the popcorn drop into the bowl, I examine the kernels. they are perfect. The thought forms. Just let this bitch talk shit about my popcorn now. As if on cue, I hear it from the living room. I hope you didn't just follow the directions on the bag.

Everyone knows that the popcorn will burn if you cook it for that long. Fucking, cunt. She didn't even let me get in the room. My eyes narrow on their own. I finished my beer and grab another one out of the refrigerator before walking towards the living room. It's a packed house, with about a dozen people sitting in front of Greg and Regina's 50-inch TV. Other than Greg, Regina, and Sky, I know none of these people. Based on their outfits and the snippets of conversation I catch in passing, I'm not missing anything.

front and center on the couch is Regina, sitting next to sky, to save me a seat on her other side. I dropped the bowl wordlessly in Regina's lap as I walk past her to take my seat. I noticed that the sudden drop causes several of the kernels to bounce out of the bowl onto her lap. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Regina's head sharply glance upward in my direction, though I make it a point not to look at her. The annoyance I no doubt caused her makes me. smile internally. Two can play this game, ho. Smells burnt, I hear her say before I make it to my seat. Maybe if you clean your microwave, it cook right. I respond. Again, not looking at her.

Settle down, ladies. It's almost on. Greg chimes in, seemingly out of the blue from his seat off to the side of the room. He's the human equivalent of a golden retriever. affable, obedient, and slightly dim. But he does have an ear for conflict and a knack for intervention, particularly where he would inevitably be drawn in otherwise. After Greg speaks, though, I see Regina out of my periphery lean back in the couch, apparently giving up the hostilities. Ha! We're all here to watch. See It Made. The show about how common household products are mass-produced. Tonight's episode is on how the Dandy Candle Company manufactures its new baby smell scented candle. Normally, I'd give this episode a hard pass.

I found this show entertaining only when I'm high, which I am sadly not. And I have precisely zero interest in seeing how any scented candle is made, let alone how one is made smelling like a new baby. whatever that smells like anyway. By the time my wife and I received the baby we had adopted, he smelled just like every other newborn I could recall. Diapers, rotten milk, and baby shit. I really hoped to know company was in the business of selling a candle with that smell.

But, apparently, Regina works in the factory and was interviewed by the TV crew about the process. I honestly had no idea what she did beforehand. But after the TV crew had told her the air date a couple of weeks ago, Regina has been jabbering about it non-stop, and she wanted all in sundry to know she was about to be broadcast on national television as the local expert in baby-scented candle manufacturing. Quite the resume, I presume.

Ever the sweetheart, Sky suggested this viewing party to see Regina get her 15 minutes of fame. Well, it would have been a nice suggestion, had it not also included a promise that I would appear in order to boost the number of people in attendance. God, I hate when she pimps me out. Can we leave yet? I jokingly asked Sky. Shhh, it's starting, Greg says. He gets off him his seat and turns the living room light off. I gave Sky a look of ridiculousness, cramping at the thought.

of being a grown-ass person that has been shushed by another grown-ass person for the sake of a TV show. Sky smiles and shushes me more forcefully. She reaches over, grabs a popcorn kernel from the bowl in Regina's lap, and eats it. I put my arm around her with a smirk and turn to the TV. The TV plays the opening sequence for the show. A montage of industrial machines spinning and bending various objects over a jaunty little tune. Ending with the title card, See it made.

The title card fades out, before opening on an attractive blonde in a conservative outfit standing in front of the building. The words, The Dandy Candle Company, sprawled in gigantic lettering across the front facade. Semi-trucks move about it off to the side of the building. It is the very picture of industry.

In a transatlantic accent, the blonde discusses the revolution new, new baby smell, scented candle, and how much of a hit it has been. She then launches into a telling of the dandy candle company's history, voiced over another montage, this time a secession of old-timey videos of people making candles by hand. After completing the history, the show then opens on a factory floor, showing workers dumping large blocks of off-white wax into a large metal vat. A worker then stabs open a large brown paper sack, emptying what looks like white sand,

something the narrator states as a proprietary binding agent, into the vat with a wax. An arm attached to a spindle in the center of the vat rotates around, mixing everything together. The show continues, depicting a worker upturning a quart-sized plastic jug over the swirling wax mixture. The blonde's voice narrates, advising that we're watching the, new baby smell added to the wax. The camera captures grayish chunks covered in a thin pinkish fluid fall from the plastic jug into the vat, causing small splashes in the wax as they land. The rotating arm then mixes the contents of the vat, causing the pink fluid to streak

against the off-white coloring of the wax. I had really only been half paying attention up until this point, taking advantage of the darkness of the room to distract my wife by kissing her neck and teasing a hand on her thigh. But the fact that chunks of something had been poured into the vat didn't look right. I stopped what I was doing to watch with more attention. Before I can make a full account of the scene, it cuts to Regina's face in the course of an interview. Regina, Greg, and the rest of the viewing party cheer at the sight of Regina on screen. The secret, Regina on TV says, to the incredible smell of the candle is in how we acquire the additive, a combination of amniotic fluid,

vernic's caseosa, and excess waste tissue, which we source from local donors at area hospitals. With the uproar from the rest of the party, I almost missed what Regina was saying. The scene cuts to what looks to be a maternity ward. Four beds are lined parallel to one another. One of the beds is empty, while women covered in white sheets, occupy the remaining three. Under the white sheet, we can see that the women are all very pregnant. None appear conscious, though I cannot tell whether they are asleep or something else. The cheering of the viewing party dies down as narration from Regina on TV begins.

Consenting donors assign us the rights to their pregnancy waste byproducts, most of which are typically thrown away after delivery. During the pregnancy, these donors, who are mostly indigent, are treated by our top-flight OBGYN staff on retainer. The video packaging playing underneath Regina's on-TV narration is a clip of a black woman, sitting on an examination bed in a hospital gown, speaking with a white man in a lab coat, who then offers the woman a clipboard with a piece of paper on it.

The woman looks hesitant at first, but ultimately signs it. The scene then changes, depicting the woman lying back on an exam table, with her legs up in stirrups, covered in a blanket, engaging a doctor in conversation who is standing off to her side. What the fuck? The episode is getting real weird, real quick. I look at Sky, posited that my face is not doing anything to mask the thought running through my head. Sky looks back at me. It's clear she shares my sentiment. I look back at the rest of the viewing party, all of whom look unsettled, except for Regina and George, who eagerly continue watching the TV.

The narration from Regina on TV continues. When the delivery date approaches, donors are brought into a segregated wing of the hospital to be induced. The donors are given general anesthesia. after which the additive components are harvested. The narration plays over a clip of the black woman, unconscious on an operating table, draped and prepped for some sort of procedure. The scene then cuts to another clip of a doctor sliding a probe back and forth into the unconscious woman. Thankfully, the position of the doctor's body on screen blocks us from seeing shots of the probe

actually entering the woman. Unfortunately, however, the clear tube attached to the end of the probe, and the chunky, viscous red and white fluid coursing through it, as the doctor works, is captured in vivid detail. He reminds me of liposuction. I hear an audible gas from one of the viewing party behind me, followed by several others saying some variation of, Oh, my God.

At this point, I'm staring at my wife with wine, eyes. She meets my look, equally shocked. We both turn to look at Regina, her smirking eyes haven't left the TV since the episode started. Regina? Sky leans in and asks low, what are we watching? Shh, my shot is coming up, Regina responds, eyes still glued to the show. Sky looks back at me with concern. The narration from Regina on TV continues. Once the components are harvested, the baby is delivered, and mom and baby are whisked away to the recovery rooms for monitoring before going about their happy lives. Her voice plays over a clip of the woman smiling widely with a sleeping baby swallowed in her arms. I take a breath. For the very briefest of moments, my mind comes close to

rationalizing what it's watching. I mean, it's gross as fuck to use whatever that smegma is to send a candle. But if everyone walks away happy and healthy, I guess it can be all right. For the second time in the night, I'm regretting not being high. This narration then changes back to the blonde host accented voice. Unfortunately, not all the fetuses survived the procedure. When that happens, though, the waist tissue is then collected, as it contains concentrations of the additive components which can be extracted for use, the blonde says.

Underneath this narration is a video clip of a doctor, holding a gray, still-born baby boy. The doctor briefly examines the body, before placing it unceremoniously into a plastic bucket situated on the floor by his leg. As it lands, it jars the bucket slightly, but because of how it lands, the baby's arm is draped over the side of the bucket. The scene is silent, but that doesn't stop my brain from imagining the dull slap the body would have made when it landed, or the scraping sound the bottom of the plastic bucket would have made on the linoleum as the body made it shift. It is the very picture of obscenity. The video clip could only have been a second or two in length, but in my horror, it felt like time froze. The realization of what I was watching short-circuiting my brain's ability to process.

Babies. That's what the show just told us went into the new baby smell, scented candles. Dead babies. Dead babies that were killed in the process of harvesting. the additive. Is that what those grayish chunks being dumped in the vat were? The shot quickly cuts to Regina's face mid-interview. Nothing is wasted, Regina on TV says, with a wide public relation smile.

The show then transitions to video clips of the wax being colored a vibrant pink and poured by automated machines in the glass jars around links of wick. Hundreds of glass jars filled with pink, wax candles, then rolled down conveyor belts, where labels are applied before being placed in the boxes. These scenes are narrated, by by this point, I have long since stopped paying any real attention to the show. The blonde host's transatlantic accent just blends into the background.

How the fuck did this even make it on TV? One of the viewing party jumps up and runs out of the room. I watch her leave Regina doesn't even glance at her The television's light reflects off the tear streaks Running down her face

As she exits the room She passes in front of a lit candle I hadn't noticed until that point A pink candle A new baby smell Candle All I had been smelling up until that point Was perfectly cooked popcorn

I am now incredibly thankful for having made it. I turned my gaze to Regina, as to Sky, as does the rest of the viewing party. We're all just silently staring at her. There just doesn't seem to be any right word for the moment to break the silence. And Regina seemingly has no idea. Not of the discontent in the room, or the barbarism we just watched on the TV, or the outright inhumanity of the whole enterprise.

She is the very picture of obliviousness. Not that anybody is paying much attention to the TV, but the show is coming to an end. The final scene is a clip from the end side of a country store. A sorkler cans of vibrant pink candle and a glass jar over to a woman. Both are smiling unreasonably large smiles. The woman opens the jar and takes a deep whiff of the contents. Her eyes close and contrived ecstasy before the credit scroll begins.

Regina stands up and turns to the rest of the viewing party with a wide smile as Greg starts clapping and applause. The moment had clearly been scripted, designed to maximize adoration from the viewing party. Greg's claps are not joined by anybody. and quickly die out. The lack of any enthusiasm from the crowd quickly scrambling the sad plan. Regina's face drops, and she has met a lot more coldly than she would have anticipated. Everyone is just looking at her in silence. What? she asked.

For your bonus episode, Creepy Presents, When It Snowes on Halloween. written by Beck Scardacki and narrated by Megan McDuffie Halloween is a big deal in my town every house goes all out in a competition to see who can freak out the most kids luckily for us they also compete to see who can give out the best candy it's pretty great

and this year my friends and I were finally old enough to go trick-or-treating alone I spent all day getting ready with my friends Ashley and Sherry, I was going as a vampire. Ashley was a witch, and Sherry was a werewolf. I was just putting some fake blood around my mouth as a finishing touch when Ashley gasped. What's wrong? I asked, without taking my eyes away from the mirror. It's snowing. Shit. Remember when I said Halloween was a big deal in my town? Yeah, well, snow on Halloween was an even bigger deal in my town.

It only happened once in my lifetime, and that was ten years ago when I was two, so I don't remember it at all. But that didn't matter. Every year in the days leading up to Halloween, the grown-ups in town would drill it into our heads that snow on Halloween was a bad sign, and that if it snowed, we had to follow the rules. The rules were, if it snows on Halloween, every trick-or-treater wearing a mask will be asked to take it off before they can get candy. If you are wearing a mask, you must take it off before getting any candy. If someone refuses to take up their mask, do not offer them candy and do not speak to them. We didn't know the why behind the rules, but honestly, I didn't care.

Sherry was the only one of us wearing a mask, after all. Sucks to be you, Sherry, I joked. Hope that giant fur ball of a mask is easy to take on and off. Yeah, Cher. Michaela and I will leave you behind if you aren't fast enough, Ashley said with a laugh, very funny guys. The good news was that we were staying at Ashley's house for the night, and her mom wasn't much of a nagger, so I figured she'd give us a quick reminder of the rules as we went out the door, and that would be it.

My mom, on the other hand, was definitely a nagger. I could sense her phone call before my cell phone even rang. Yes, Mom, I said as soon as I answered, not letting her get a word in. Sherry's the only one wearing a mask and she knows to take it off before getting candy. We won't talk to anyone who doesn't take their mask off, blah, blah, blah. Love you, see you tomorrow. I hung up and giggled. Parents, am I right?

After one last look at our costumes to make sure they were perfect, we tumbled out the front door and into the snowy neighborhood. Our plan was to start at the house next door and work our way around the neighborhood as the night got darker. The inner streets had some seriously creepy-looking houses. and we wanted to hit those when it was good and dark out for maximum creep factor. Do you think Josh and the guys will be out? Ashley asked as we headed up the walkway to the nearest house. She had an obvious crush on Josh, but swore up and down that she didn't. No idea, Ash, I said as it rang the doorbell. Trick or treat? As the night went on, Sherry got pretty quick at ripping her mask off her head the second she was asked.

I had to give it to her because she put it back on every time. I know the mask completed the werewolf car. costume, but I probably would have just left it off after the fourth or fifth house. Just before nine o'clock, we hit the last house in the neighborhood. They were known to give out two full-size candy bars at the end of the night just to get rid of them. We ran past a group of kids who were just leaving and bounded up the steps. Trick or treat! What great costumes! Go ahead and take two bars if you'd like, the woman at the door said,

but you two will have to take off your masks first. Two? I looked over at Sherry and saw another kid standing next to her. He was dressed as a scarecrow with a burlap sack over his head. The mouth was crookedly stitched on and the eye holes were jaggedly cut. I shivered and looked away. Just some kid trying to get their last bit of candy like we were before the neighborhood shut off their porch lights and turned in for the night.

I reached into the plastic pumpkin the woman was holding and grabbed a twix and a milky way. I looked over at Sherry who was pulling off her mask. The scarecrow stood still next to her. His mask's still on. Ashley grabbed her two bars and nudged Sherry. Come on, Wolfie. Let's go. Sherry grabbed her candy and turned to the scarecrow. Hey, kid, you gotta take your mask off if you want any candy.

Sherry, you can't talk to him. I blurted out. What? She looked confused for a second before her mistake dawned on her. Oh, shit. The rules. Sherry had moved to town three years ago, so the rules weren't as ingrained in her as they were in Ashley and I.

We looked at the woman at the door nervously, hoping she would tell us the rules were just some silly, made-up thing to make Halloween seem more scary. Instead, a look of pure terror crossed her face, and she yanked the plastic pumpkin back to her chest. Run! She whispered before slamming her door shut and clicking the lock. Ashley and I grabbed Sherry and pulled her down the steps.

We couldn't help but scream, though we didn't know why exactly the woman was so afraid. As we rounded the corner of the sidewalk, I turned to look behind us. I let out a shriek when my eyes met the jagged, empty holes of the scarecrow's mask. He was right behind us. Faster, I yelled, pulling on my friend's hands as I sprinted down the sidewalk toward Ashley's house. If we could just make it inside, we'd be safe from whatever this thing chasing us was. Over the ragged gasps of our breath as we ran, I heard the sound of straw rubbing together as the scarecrow gained on us.

Finally, I saw the illuminated front porch of Ashley's house. The three of us sprinted up the front steps faster than we'd ever dreamed of running in gym class. Ashley reached for the doorknob and froze. It was locked. She fumbled for her key as Sherry and I pounded it on the door for her mom to open up. I could hear the rustling sound of the scarecrow getting louder. Just when I thought my heart would be straight out of my chest, Ashley swung the door open and pulled us inside.

She slammed the door shut and locked it before turning the porch. light off. As we collapsed on the floor, gasping for air, my eyes turned to the side table by the door. On it was a piece of notebook paper. I picked it up and read it quickly before crumpling it up. Your mom got called in for an emergency shift at the hospital, Ash. We're alone. Before Ashley could respond, there was a loud bang on the front door. The scarecrow was here, and it was mad. We have to barricade the door, I said, standing up and grabbing the side table. Ashley got up and grab the other side of the table so we could move it up against the door while Sherry dragged over a chair from the living room. Bang!

Something hit the window above us as the front doorknob rattled at the same time. Is there more than one of them? Sherry asked. No idea, but we need to get away from the door now, I said as I scrambled for the staircase. I figured being off the ground floor was safest. We ran into Ashley's room and started pushing her desk up against the door. I was pretty sure the scarecrow outside was no ordinary. kid and I didn't want to find out what would happen if it got to us.

Guys, I'm so sorry, Sherry said through choked sobs. I didn't even think. I just thought it was some dumb kid and I... It's okay, Cher. I said, we're going to be okay. Bang. All three of us shrieked in unison as Ashley's bedroom window shook from the force of being hit. I turned to look and saw those jagged, empty eye holes pressed up against the window. How did he get up here? Ashley screamed. I don't know, but we need to hide.

I said, follow me. I ran to the closet and ushered them inside, closing the door tight behind us. We huddled together behind Ashley's hanging clothes. Our backs pressed up as far against the closet wall as we could. The angry banging on Ashley's window continued. I braced myself for the sound of the window shattering from the force of the scarecrow's blows, but instead another bang sounded from the door to Ashley's bed. bedroom. Next, another from the window. Then the door. Then the window. Sherry wept beside me while

Ashley rocked back and forth. I prayed to God that I wouldn't skip school again and I'd do all my chores and I'd never ever do anything bad ever again if he'd let us live. The assault on Ashley's window and door went on for hours. I swore I could hear the rustling of straw rubbing together from just outside the closet door, I was certain the door would open any second, and the thing dressed as a scarecrow would drag us all down to hell with it. But finally, the banging stopped. We waited in silence for minutes, battled together in fear, silence. I pulled out my cell phone and checked the time, 12.05 a.m., November 1st. We made it. on this podcast, including how to submit your own story for consideration.

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