Creepy - Day 9 - The Quiet Child

Episode Date: October 9, 2018

She'll tell you her secrets, whether you are ready for them or not...***Written by: C. Walker Thomas***Please consider supporting the podcast at Patreon.com/Creepypod or creepypod.com/support***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCQ3SrH_3fsROXFAjomKcUtw***Produced by Steve Blizin, Puzzle Audio***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. Day 9. The Quiet Child Written by Seawaker Thomas. I'm told you'd like to meet the quiet child. Well, I'd firmly advise against it. You may believe you can handle what she's offered to review. feel, but I promise you are not strong enough.

No mortal is. Oh, I don't blame you for being tempted. After all, you may well reason that you, like all people, could benefit from learning profound truths about your character and your place in the universe. It seems rational on its face. Normally such deep introspection would be helpful, as it may well lead to that moment of enlightenment you're so desperate to obtain. However, that's not exactly what she offers. You see, we are all deeply flawed creatures that delude ourselves into believing we understand

the depths of our own psyche. We are wrong. Moreover, she knows we are wrong in that assumption. In fact, I suspect she counts on it. What is given goes beyond petty consideration. considerations such as unshackling you from your childhood traumas, helping you to understand your ultimate motivations in finding love or career success, or even in discovering your life's true purpose. Instead, she delivers a moment of heart-wrenching clarity, a point of razor-sharp truth that will cut through any and every preconceived notion you've ever had about your life and about human existence in general.

In short, it will be a glimpsychic that will be a glimpse. imps into the eternal, something our minds are poorly equipped to comprehend. I can't tell you exactly what she will say, but please believe that it will shatter you. She will leave you maddened and adrift in a void of objective reality with a crushing knowledge that you do not matter. Are you still willing to find her at the risk of staring down that fate? All right. Well, I did try to warn you off.

not that it seems to have done much good. You know who you are, after all, and undoubtedly are confident in the strength of your essence. My rambling certainly can't be anything more than the fanciful exaggerations of a tired old man, right? Right. On with it, then. If you are dead set on meeting with a quiet child,

wait for the first significant snowfall after the winter soul, Pact warm clothing and provisions for an extended camping trip. You may need them. Find an empty and remote field well away from any houses or other signs of habitation. The field should be fairly large so as to afford some semblance of solitude. Store any electronics in the trunk of your car. This step is more to prevent them from being destroyed than anything else. Once they are safely stored, collect your gear and leave your vehicle behind.

proceed on foot out into the middle of the field. Your tracks should be the only evidence of passage and the otherwise pristine blanket of white. If you see any other footfalls, human or otherwise, leave immediately. She will not suffer anyone else milling around about that may bear witness of what she has to impart to you. Her insight is for you alone. Further, if there has been evidence of a prior trespass, do not offend the quiet child by lingering in the field or trying to spot her. The only thing worse than the truth she tells is the slow and pitiless way in which you

will be made to suffer while she tinkers with your anatomy should you test her patience. If, however, your certain yours are the only tracks leading into the field, then by all mean to stay if you wish. Be advised that this will be your final opportunity to back out. Once you are certain of your commitment to stay, slowly reach around toward the back of your neck, you will feel a small scar, perhaps a couple of centimeters long, near the base of your skull. That wasn't there before.

Moreover, as your fingertips move over the scar, you will feel a tiny ball-like object rolling beneath the surface. No, don't bother checking for it now. You won't find it. Not yet. When you do find the scar in that field, take a breath to steady yourself for this next step. If you have a length of cord or wood in your pack,

bite down on it. Hard. Once you're ready to proceed, locate the object under the scar and press down upon it firmly. A silent pulse will cold. quake your frame and ripple outward. A sort of silent thunder. The pain will be excruciating, but you must not cry out.

Your reaction to this test of fortitude will be closely observed. For what it's worth, the agony will pass in about 30 or 40 seconds. Although, I doubt that it will be of much comfort in the moment. When the pain abates and your wit's return, I would suggest taking that moment to look up at the sky. If it's a cloudless night, the stars themselves will appear to flare and scintillate more obviously in that moment. Take it as a sign that you are on the path.

However, if clouds or fog obscure your view, you may have no such assurance, I'm afraid. Your next task will be to turn and take exactly 12 northerly steps. I hope you'll have remembered to pack a compass. Be mindful of those steps. A miscount here will take you off course into realms unfathomable. Or at least, that's what I've been told. As you walk, strange shadows will appear in your periphery,

and you will quite likely hear crunching footsteps in the snow all about you. It is vital that you do not seek their source. Some horrors are not worth bearing witness to. These are they who have tried and failed before you. Twisted abominations that would gleefully fall upon you should you err in some way. Focus instead on your feet and ensure you proceed as directed. Upon reaching the correct spot, an eerie quiet should be noticeable, as though all the world around you is holding its breath.

The phantoms will fall still and any sounds from the wind or distant birds will be conspicuous. ridiculously absent. It will feel like nothing so much as a dead world. It isn't. You'll still be very much alive. The world around you, however, will simply have retreated and gone to ground. Regret your decision to follow the path at that point if you like, but there's no stepping off at once the journey has been undertaken, while still on the spot where your 12th step fell, turn toward the east and sit in the snow. Try to make yourself as comfortable as you can considering the cold. You will be waiting a while.

The quiet child will not be rushed. Whether it will be a matter of hours or days, I can make no promise. I can say with some degree of certainty that she will most likely come in the night. I've heard rumor that she prefers to crisp and quiet hours under the full moon. but you should be prepared to welcome her whenever she chooses to come. When she does deem to appear, you won't see her trudging through the snow from a ways off. Any notion that you'll see her coming and have a final few moments to steady your nerves is faulty. Rather, you'll begin to feel a sharp, numbing cold swell up from the pit of your stomach,

bringing with it a persistent nausea. It is not a common sense of dread so much as a sort of, primal knowing, a gift of evolution, I suppose. Left over from ages past where such meetings must have been more common. The icy pit will pulse and stab, and you'll find your resolve failing you with a quickness. No matter what your fierce, soaked primate mind tells you you must not run. That is essential. It will be far too late by that point for it to do you any good anyway. I needn't remind you just how poorly it will go should you decide to bolt, do I. As I mentioned before, she expects to be welcomed. Running would just be seen as a vulgar

offense, and I'm afraid you wouldn't enjoy the consequences of that choice. Let the cold and nausea ebb and flow as it will. It may help to close your eyes, but I can't say for certain. Either way, you won't see her approach. It's possible that you may see odd lights in the trees or stars that dance and sway out of step with the functions of reality, but it is not a certainty. You may hear odd sounds or see shadows ripple and bend contrary to their nature. At some point, you will all once become aware of her sitting near you, watching you with a pertin natural intensity. Her overly large eyes will be open wide, and you will never see her blink. Also, for a glimmer of a moment, you may see them flicker into an inkwell black. A glossy void

containing pale starburst irises inset way down deep. Everything I know and if seen suggests the change will be fleeting, but the quiet child will do as she wills. Try not to be unnerved. To treat a guest of such rudeness is an unforgivable sin. It will also be apparent that she is altogether underdressed for the weather. She will appear as a porcelain-skinned waif in a faded ashen dress that feels off somehow in its design, as though it were only an approximation of what a little girl should wear. Her small hands will be folded tightly into her lap, with her fingers folded under.

Those hands will frighten you, though you'll not quite remember why. It will seem as though you should recall something about their unnatural shape and deft movements. That thought will dance about in the far reaches of your consciousness, but try as you might, you will not be successful in dragging that wisp of a memory into the full light of recollection. Don't worry. It will soon fade entirely and trouble you no further. Despite that nagging distraction, the most disturbing feature you'll note will likely be her tightly pressed lips, thin, blackened, and severe as they are. I sincerely pray she never opens her mouth in your presence.

It has been said that all truth will come spilling out in a torrent, and that all the fallen aeons in hell's realm will conspire together to keep her delicate lips sealed, in fear of the devastation that would be wrought by her unfettered truth. I don't know that I believe those legends, mind you. But I am cowardly enough that I would not want them tested. Suffice it to say she has means of communication beyond speech which allow her to be more selective in her delivery. Take only a few moments to observe her form.

As I said, the quiet child expects to be welcomed. properly, not leered at. Turn toward her and thank her for meeting you as warmly as you are able. You would also be well advised to ask if she has traveled well. I don't know that your phrasing is all that important. She seems more concerned with intention rather than pretty words. I can only give my best recollections and say I feel impressed that expressing those sentiments are vital. When you finish speaking, long and uncomfortable silence will follow while she takes your measure. Weight it out, and whatever you do, don't look away. If you even so much as glance off and back at her, she will be inexplicably closer. I'm not sure about her intentions in that

scenario, but I don't want to imagine what would happen if she were to reach you while you look away. Just hold her respectful gaze and wait. At some point, a vague whisper or buzz will begin rattling around in the back of your mind. A probing presence in your most inner intellectual space will gradually assert itself, and it will be the most invasive and terrifying experience of your life. The human mind has no frame of reference for that sort of intrusion. No matter what horrors we may face, our thoughts are inherently private and inviolate, not so in communing with a quiet child.

Every firm conviction, embarrassing failure, private, interlude, and wicked act will be laid out before her. That sort of transparent vulnerability would be utterly mortifying. To have another and know literally everything seems to fulfill the very definition of hell to me. However, what may be worse still is that you will find the sum total of your life's experience to be so completely and utterly, uninteresting. Oh sure, you may take some sense of moral absolution away as she glosses over your sins, but your greatest accomplishments will also be discarded just as easily. What may once have brought a sense of pride will now feel small,

unimportant, trivial even. To say you will feel deflated in that moment is an extraordinary understatement. You likely won't have much time to sit with that new perspective on yourself, though. The whispers in the back of your mind will start to coalesce in a more direct and understandable message. Words, memory fragments, and foreign images will all be weaved together as a quiet child starts addressing you directly. It won't be a simple narrative as you may expect. Not exactly. Rather, all of those components will blend and twist about in your mind to deliver.

the overall message. Elements will be recalled from your past and mixed with things you've never before heard or witnessed. The overall effect will be incredibly disorienting while still somehow maintain a logical thread throughout. The main thrust of the message will feel entirely foreign while being dressed upon in the most intimate and familiar terms to you. As I said, I can't know now what you will tell you. I can't know if the revelations will destroy your mind or if you will even survive the encounter at all. I can only say that it will be a horror and a wonder beyond description.

Your understanding of the universe will be unfolded in ways you can't begin to conceive from your limited linear mortal perspective. In fact, from my experience, I can promise you won't be able to retain it at all, even if you do come out of the experience reasonably intact. I suppose it's obvious by now that I once sat where you are, being warned off from running down this path. I remember being so sure that the warning was overstated. If only I had listened, no matter. I can't change what was done.

All I can do now is tell you the rest in hopes that some part of it, any part of it, will resonate with you and divert your course. Although, I suspect I'm only making the whole of this all the more attractive by adding an element of dangerous foreboding. You're right? You're right. Enough of that now. Even if you were somehow coherent or capable of any conscience thought

after receiving her gift, you would never see her leave. Just as she arrived She will all once be gone And you will find yourself in your car With no recollection of how you got there Moreover Upon checking you will discover significantly more time As past during the encounter than you might have thought

In fact If you're in the habit of wearing a watch You will now appear out of sync Now that may be a matter of minutes or hours But it's not impossible That you will have lost track of a watch couple of days. Regardless of how much time has passed, if you reach that point, you are out of immediate danger. Congratulations ahead of time for what little it's worth. I have to warn you though,

that the cold dread will still grip you even though you made it to the other side. It takes a good long time to recover from that sort of primeval encounter. I don't know if that will ever really leave you. Not completely anyway. In my weakest moments, I still feel that fear all these years later. I suppose that's part of the price to be paid. As though that weren't enough, though. She will send her emissaries to observe you from time to time your whole life through, renewing that dread each time they appear out of nowhere just as she did. They will never speak to you and will never even acknowledge you if you try to engage with them. They will just stare with their wide, blank eyes and probe your mind before seeming to blink

out of existence again. I can't be certain. But I suspect she's most interested in how we cope over time with what she's revealed, like some kind of perverse experiment. At any rate, take whatever boon she has given and make the most of it. Upon receiving mine, I was able to reorient my life along an academic path and gain a rather great measure of success by any worldly standard, enough to live a comfortable life anyway. Yes, I obtained some bit of wisdom and pursued startling moments of brilliant insight that led

me down avenues I never would have seen had it not communed with the quiet child. Still, as my time in this world dwindles, I wonder if that was worth it at all. No matter my success, the ultimate realization of my place in this universe has robbed me of any ability to truly appreciate and revel in it. I've seen pictures of myself at those points of triumph, and even though I may be smiling, my eyes in those photos always betray a hollow vacancy. The context she provided has made it entirely impossible to truly believe that any of it matters much. Further, in all my days since meeting her, even the simplest pleasures of food, drink, and carnality

have never registered anything beyond a momentary distraction. No relationship has lasted, and every friendship has faltered and faded away. Should you go through with this, I hope you're experiencing. is different, but I can't imagine how anyone would be able to function normally while holding this sort of terrible knowing inside. So there it is. The whole experience is yours to do with what you will. I know it won't stop you. After all, being all headstrong and sure as a youth, I wasn't even momentarily deterred. Just don't let it be said that nobody warned you how heavy the burden of the experience will be. Now that I've given it, and all but

assured you will seek her out. Perhaps a quiet child will finally let me die and fade away into the nothing beyond. For more information, including pictures and videos of the stories told on this podcast,

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