Creepy - Day 9 - The Lonely Stars

Episode Date: October 9, 2020

In space...***Written by ShadowSwimmer77 and narrated by Steve Blizin and Cheryl Blizin***See your donation rewards podcast at patreon.com/creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCQ3SrH_3fsROXFAjomKcUtw***Produced 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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Three Spooked Girls. Three Spooked Girls is a true crime and paranormal podcast where co-hosts and longtime best friends, Tara and Jessica, talk about cold cases, missing persons, ghouls, golems, and all things that go bump in the night. Join the gals, or ghouls. every Monday for a deep dive on significant true crime cases like Ted Bundy or Ed Kemper to hear the history and haunts of abandoned asylums, homes, and creepy creatures,

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Creepy presents the 31 days of horror. Day 9. The Lonely Stars Written by Shadow Swimmer 77 And narrated by Steve Blizzin And Cheryl Blizzin Houston, come in This is UN Space Station Libra

Come in, Houston No reply, just like every other time I throw the receiver in disgust The weightless environment causing it to float mockingly in front of my face at the end of its retention strap. I'm bathed in the soft red glow of emergency lights that serve to illuminate every inch of my tiny cell.

I take a deep breath to calm my nerves before returning to fiddle at the maintenance panel. I've been in here for two weeks now. Libra was designed as the successor to the International Space Station. Typically, there is a minimum two crew on board at any one time. I was supposed to be out of here three weeks ago, with the British and Chinese astronauts who came up with me. But unfortunately, the replacements had some mechanical complications, and then nasty weather delayed the Moscow launch another week.

Even so, they should have been here days ago. You sure you'll be all right up here by yourself, mate? Sure. Somebody's got to keep the lights on. Besides, the Ruskies will be here soon. Just have a drink for me when you get Lanside, yeah? I expect I left too. Godspeed. I was ready to spend seven to ten days by myself on the station, waiting for the Russians to get their act together and get me my ride home. I'd done some time in an isolation chamber during my training, so I knew how to handle being stuck in a confined space with myself.

The trick is to not listen to the voices. The station itself isn't roomy, but it has five different modular commons. compartments, more than enough space for one person not to feel enclosed. Even better, every module except for the emergency cell has specially reinforced portholes giving magnificent views of the earth far below. It was photos of this breathtaking panorama that had first driven me into the NASA program almost 20 years ago. So what better way to spend a week than by gazing at the world in all its glory? Since our planned experiments were complete other than basic maintenance, that's exactly what I spent the first several days doing.

I could lose myself for hours, watching the whirling blues and browns fly by underneath. The sun rising and setting every time I completed in orbit. Then came the event. Five days into my lonely vigil, I'd been roughly woken by a blaring along. The alarm. Houston was trying to reach me. And they needed me now. What's going on, Houston?

Satellites register some left behind by a passing comet or... How long will that be? It was good advice. Alarm started sounding almost exactly 60 minutes later. And abruptly, whole sections of the station's instrument panels started shutting down. I was able to track everything that was going on from the master controls in the emergency cell, so I knew exactly when the power to the station completely cut. out. There was a tense five to ten seconds before the emergency batteries kicked in. Then with

a soft wine, they powered up the red lights I'd been basking in ever since. I paused my work at the maintenance panel for the thousandth time. I take out the photo of my wife and daughter. They're both smiling, holding each other close. Are you going to space again, Daddy? Yes, honey, but not for long this time. I don't want you to go. Don't worry. I'll be back before you know it. The emergency batteries are designed to provide minimum function,

pretty much just life support and basic communication. Theoretically, they'll last long enough that I'll have to be more concerned with running out of food and recycled water before worrying if they're going to run dry. But I'm blind and deaf in here. The communications are rudimentary, designed to run on almost no power. So it's small wonder I haven't been able to reach Houston.

I have to do something. I can't even see outside since the emergency cell was designed specifically without any kind of viewport. The walls are starting to close in. And in a cell this small, there's not much room to shrink. At least the voices haven't started yet. Like I said, the trick is to avoid them. but in here there's nowhere to run. Nothing to distract my mind.

The main system is powered by exterior solar panels. The system had been tested and retested to automatically restart in the event of a catastrophic failure. But when it actually counted, something stopped the reset. After a day or two, I decided to take matters into my own hands and pop the cover off the maintenance panel. After two weeks, I've gotten exactly zero. response for my efforts as I put the photo of my family back in my pocket. The fear and unfairness of it all momentarily get the better of me. Damn it! I was supposed to be home weeks ago! In frustration, I hit the panel as hard as I can with my open hand. Amazingly, that does the trick.

With a click and a whir, the red lights shift to white, and the instrument panes. And the instrument begin powering up to their fully operational state. Ecstatic, I throw myself across the cell to the communication array. Houston, Houston, come in. This is Space Station Libra. I try the line for 20 minutes. Still no response. What the hell is going on? A gnawing pit is growing in the base of my stomach.

While the system was down, I could make excuses for the radio silence. Use them to keep the panicky feeling to a dull roar. But now, I have to get out of a stupid cell. I may not be able to talk to the people down there, but at least I can watch them. If I imagine hard enough, maybe I'll see my little girl, looking to the sky to see if she can spy the station as it passes overhead. I unseal the airlock and move to the next module. I chuckled to myself.

Maybe I'll be able to see my replacement shuttle. I peer through the viewport. Then, frantically, I move from module to module, looking through each porthole in turn. The pit growing deeper and deeper with each passing moment. She doesn't want you to go. She's a kid. Of course she doesn't want me to go. I don't want you to go either. I know. But...

But I know you will any. Anyway, and I won't stop. I love you too. Always. It takes the station's computer two hours to identify our position. Finally, it finds enough known stars to triangulate where we are. Exactly where we should be, two weeks after the last measurements were taken. The rest of the universe, though, is a little off.

Ahead of itself by 1,500 years. My gut, I'd already known that though. I'd known when I'd looked through the viewport and didn't see the big beautiful earth shining below me. Just the dark, empty blackness of space, filled by only a few lonely stars. The Patreon Vault. Creepy Presents The Children Found a Flower. Credited to use your skull munch.

Gross, don't touch it. Judith whined, recoiling as George prodded at the fleshy lump in the side of the cypress tree with a sharp stick. Little Thomas spoke up from beside her, pointing at the thing excitedly and smiling ear to ear. Look, it's moving. Sure enough, their discovery twitched in response. The fleshy hole in its center slowly beginning to open and close. It was an odd thing, so children knew at least that much. From a distance it had just looked like a flower on a tree, but when they had gotten closer, they had noticed its peculiarities.

For one thing, it had a mouth, a fang-filled maud that had seemed dormant up until this experimental stick-poking. That in itself was bizarre, but during the children's inspection of it, they noticed that the throat of the thing on the tree seemed to stretch on for miles. A grotesque tube filled with teeth going on and on longer than it had any right to. This discovery was quickly shoved to the wayside upon closer inspection of the large pink petals the thing had. The mouthhole resting in the middle of what looked like a pile of tongues, each with many white petrusions.

It had been Judith to notice what exactly the white shards were. Human teeth. Seemingly growing out of the flesh of this meat flower. Judith was cautious of the thing, as she was with everything she did not understand. But George and Little Thomas were excited and curious about this new discovery, and there was no way she was walking back through the swamp alone. The boys laughed at the thing, enjoying the spectacle of the hungry maw twitching and burbling, some of the petals lapping at the air, many of the teeth retracting inwards. Every movement it made Judith took a step back. It just looked wrong.

She had always seen the same kinds of plants in the swamp outside the house, and there had never been anything like this in her father's flower. books. Judith twirled a lock of brown hair in her fingers as George experimentally put the tip of the branch into the now gnashian gullet, dragging the pudgy, bespectical child a few steps forward as the stick in his hand was chomped down on and pulled in violently. He shrieked, releasing the stick as the flower devoured it hastily, splinters of wood flying through the air, at the force those many rows of razor-sharp fangs were showing with every bite. Every one of the petal tongues lashed aggressively now.

Their many tiny teeth jutting out and wiggling violently as it mindlessly consumed the invading object. Little Thomas shrieked loudly, his shrill voice piercing the air and drowning out the sounds of slurping and chomping. Judith and George quickly following suit and taking several steps back, eyes filled with a sudden and immediate terror at the sudden threat to their lives. Judith pouted, straightening her dress before stamping her feet adamantly, shoulder-length brown curls bouncing angrily as she made clear her displeasure.

I told you not to touch it, George. I don't like it. I want to go home. George fixed his glasses, puffing his cheeks out grumpily and giving a pout straight back at the young female. He folded his arms across his chest. Fine, you big baby. If you're going to be like that, we'll just leave you behind next time. Yeah.

Little Thomas piped up, mimicking the pose of the larger boy beside him and giving him a sneer in Judith's direction. She blushed red, then stuck her top. hung out, taking a seat against another cypress and crossing her arms as well. The situation upset her, but not enough to warrant losing her playmates. George nodded at Little Thomas and turned his attention back towards the unusual flower. He rubbed his chin for a moment, pudgy fingers brushing across pale, freckled skin as he considered what to do with their discovery next. It was hardly moving at all, dormant as it had had.

Ben when they found it. Suddenly, little Thomas had an idea. You want to throw a rock at it? Good idea! The two boys beamed. Judith opened her mouth to speak and went back to sulking. If they wanted to get themselves hurt, who was she to stop them? They didn't want to listen to her, after all. George and Little Thomas dug through the dirt and grabbed the biggest rocks they could find. the larger child rubbing his sweaty hands on his stretched cardigan before taking aim at the flower. The rock loosed with more force than George had expected bumping against the petals hard enough to leave a bruise on one. The oddity howled in pain. Its wails echoing throughout the forest loud enough to force the children to cover their ears.

The teeth covering the creature's tongue petals seemed to bear. Dozens of them nearly in danger of digging their way out of the bumpy flaps entirely, as they wiggled and squirmed the flower furious at having been struck. The pink organs flailed and thrashed hungrily slurping maud, jetting out a long black tendril from somewhere in its chasm of a throat and thrashing it through the air wildly, desperately searching for whatever attack. it. Little Thomas yelped and threw his rocks square at the flower, unable to think of anything else to do. Another gibbering howl sent the birds flying out of the trees, the long, shrill sound bringing Judith and George to their knees' hands covering their ears. The youngest among them was not so lucky, however. His gaze fixed on the black tendril. His ears deafened as he watched it's slow, its flailing. The tips splitting and peeling back to reveal a milky, white eye.

More dripping tendrils began to form off of the first, each one stretching out several feet before splitting to reveal eyes of their own. The monster's shriek had stopped, but little Thomas could still hear the ringing. Two small pops, the only indication that the boy's eardrums had broken. His eyes trained on the curious, watching eyes, constantly multiplying as they slithered closer still. George called out to them, he thought, but his voice seemed a million miles away. One of the flower-starred dripping tentacles surged forward, followed by what was now hundreds more, moving as a concentrated mass toward the little Thomas' face. The boys' out of the boy's eyes. The boys' eyes spinning round and round. Many dove down his mouth, shattering teeth as they filled up his

stomach, others filing into his ears, into his eyes. They moved clumsily, dragging him to the ground with some effort before steadily pulling the new mealing closer. Oily tendrils caressed his brain, and both Judith and George screamed in utter horror as they watched. their friend smile. Tiny hands clinging at the dirt as if trying to get closer to the thing on the tree. His eyes appear white and his skin pale as death as he desperately flopped himself across the dirt. Sobbing and wailing, George grabbed Little Thomas' feet and pulled. His once polished dress shoes becoming caked in mud and dust as he strained with all his might.

The younger boy's legs flailed and kicked in retaliation, gurgling angrily and hugging the cypress's trunk as if it were the most important thing in the world. One of these kicks landed its mark, catching George in the face and shattering one of his lenses. Judith still shrieking and holding her hands over her ears in complete hysterics. Little Thomas happy burbles grew more frequently as he grew closer and closer to the flower, gripping the tongue petals reverently as he caressed the angry bone petrusions. They lapped at his little fingers, slathering them in a thick saliva as the tendrils forced his head into the gnashing tube of hungry teeth, leaking thick ropes of crimson down the ashen

wood as little Thomas's skull was quickly crushed, beaming smile still plastered on his face as the flower began taking bites from him. Judith hyperventilated, curling into a fetal position while George wailed holding his bloodied nose. The sounds of slurping and breaking bone gradually faded. The two remaining children sitting in silence for several long minutes even after the noises had stopped, it had been Judith who looked up first, streaks of tears running down her face, cheeks cherry red, and her breathing a little more than wheezing at this point, the flower was gone, as was the tree it had been attached to. Even the stains were gone. It had almost been as if it had never happened. They had never run so fast in the

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