Creepy - Flesh Flies & KnightBear

Episode Date: August 7, 2025

Flesh Flies***Written by: Robert Smiley and Narrated by: Owen McCuen***KnightBear***Written by: Arthur Jay and Narrated by: JV Hampton-VanSant***Support the show at patreon.com/creepypod***Sound design by: Pacific Obadiah***Title music by: Alex Aldea Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

No. This is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepypastas 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 violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. Creepy presents. Flesh flies.

Written by Robert Smiley and narrated by Owen McCune. I never fall. I've been rock climbing for 20 years and never once slipped. Until it mattered most. As I stretched my right hand out, the rock under my left hand gave way. Time stopped. I watched in horror as, my hands grabbed fruitlessly for a rock face, slowly shrinking away.

P-ting! My anchor rocketed from the wall. My safety rope wasn't going to save me. I'm going to die. P-ting! I'm going to die! Then my body wrenched back as the third anchor held. I almost screamed with joy until I started swinging like a pendulum.

Pure terror escaped from my lips as I slammed into a rocky bluff, exploding both my sat phone and my knee. Dazed I hung in the air for, I don't know how long. The anchor keeping me alive must have been bolted onto higher rock quality. I yelled for help, but only my echoes responded off the rusty Moab Canyon walls. The sweltering summer sun was overwhelming, but my leg was cold. I looked down. My knee had turned into crimson confetti, soaking my shin in rivers of blood.

reluctantly, I belayed down. The orange rocks petered into a narrow slot canyon filled with brackish water. No climber would willingly come down here. My descent spooked to the local fauna. Thousands of flies swarmed out of the slot canyon. Dozens of flies infested my gaping wound. I felt hundreds of legs touching exposed nerves and tearing flesh. I slapped my knee again and again, screaming out in pain.

I squeezed the belay divide. and zoomed the remaining five feet, splashing down. Never put an open wound in practice water, but at least it drowned the flies. With the current crisis dead, I looked around to my new one. The water was only a few inches deep. A bad sign. Moab routinely reached over 100 degrees in the summer.

The only reason shallow water wouldn't evaporate is if it was trapped in the shade. One quick scan of the orange and white striated walls confirmed this slot canyon had no exit. Cracks and holes littered the wall, but all were far too small for a human. I couldn't walk to safety. Time to find out if I could walk at all. I dragged myself out of the water and examined my knee. I used the stagnant water to clear away all the zebra-striped dead flies, but what was left wasn't prettier. My flesh had been peeled back to the bone. My patella had fractured and bits of my kneecap had fallen out. My fibula and tibia moved in ways they weren't

supposed to. Clumsily, I tried placing my bones back to their correct position. I pulled out my emergency kit, used liberal amounts of alcohol, and wrapped my knee in gauze. Multiple bones would pierce my skin if I tried to walk on my right leg. My emergency kit had eight pain pills in it. I popped two and stored the rest. My adrenaline would wear off soon and I'd be in the same. I'd be in the most agonizing pain of my life. Hopefully, I'd be rescued before then, but for now, rationing. It wasn't a long climb,

so I hadn't packed much. Five granola bars and roughly eight ounces of water. I used most of my emergency medical kit, but still had flares, a solar blanket, a pocket knife, and extra rope. I ripped open the Velcro holding the solar blanket together. I caught the sunlight to immediately dry off.

exposure is my deadliest enemy now. All belayers had heard horror stories of the ones who had fallen. It was part of the hobby. There was no shortage of gruesome injuries and deaths from exposure. And the whole world had heard of the tragedy of Aaron Rostead, who had to cut his arm off in the southern part of this state after he was trapped for 127 hours. But Moab was one of the world's most popular rock climbing spots.

Someone would come along, even if I am off the beaten path. safer to wait than climbing out of here on a busted limb. Alone with my thoughts, I watched the shadows slowly climb the striated walls. Maybe this climb was further away from civilization than I thought. I wondered when someone would notice I was missing. I'd come alone to Utah and was alone in general. I had a sister living in Connecticut, but I don't remember the last time we spoke. Relationships that had ended badly,

friendships that had grown brittle with distance, and a few co-workers I make small talk with, are the extent of the sad husk of my social life. Would anybody notice if I disappeared from the world? I guess my lab will, after I don't come into work, but I'd be replaced three weeks later. In a month, I may as well never have existed. Summer nights in Moab never get below 60.

I wrapped my solar blanket around my legs, more for cushiness than warmth. Shockingly, weathered stone wasn't very comfortable. The Milky Way shone down and cast the slot canyon in a cozy glow. I started to drift off to sleep when something moved next to my arm. I jerked back and heard the telltale noise of a rattle. My breath died in my throat. By starlight, I could see the rattlesnake coiled to strike.

If only my solar blanket wasn't wrapped around my feet, I'd have some protection. but I was exposed to the mercy of a rattlesnake. Around us, the inhabitants of the holes in the canyon walls slithered out for a drink. Snakes and lizards sat around the water's edge, hissing at each other. A Gila monster wandered too close to the rattlesnake and shook its tail. Now's my chance. I immediately rolled away and wrapped myself tightly. I ducked my head under the sheet like a small child afraid of monsters under the bed.

I stayed awake all night, praying of venerable. Critter wasn't curious enough to peek under the blanket. The morning light failed to provide relief. The reptiles basked on the rocks before the desert heat became too much. The sun approached noon before I had the canyon to myself. With the danger passed, my eyelids felt heavy. A nap sounded incredible, but I couldn't. What if a climber came and didn't see me down here? I only had four granola bars and six ounces of water left. assuming nobody took this path recreationally, how many days would I be stuck here before help arrived? My car was visible from the road. Surely a ranger or cop would investigate?

My motel will notice I haven't checked out two days from now, which means the latest a search party would find me was three days. Two ounces of water a day isn't much when the temperature exceeds a hundred. Can a human survive that much dehydration? I spent the day morosely obsessing over every bad choice that stranded me in this canyon. Was there any reason to survive other than basic animal instinct? What was the point of my pathetic life? And my leg wouldn't stop throbbing in pain. When night came, I was depressed, parched, and hidden.

Day three in this canyon, and I could no longer swallow. My tongue had shriveled into leather, a dull pound. throbbed in my head like someone jackhammering an ice pick into my brain. Worst of all, my knee was writhing in agony. I didn't mean to down the rest of my water. The brief relief was so good I couldn't stop myself. Now my water was gone and I was still severely dehydrated. The brackish water started looking mighty tempting.

If I wasn't rescued soon, I'd have to drink it. Just because I've seen animals drink. doesn't mean it's safe. Civilization has robbed humanity of our natural resistance to stagnant water. But I couldn't sit here. I've distilled water at my day job, so I knew the rough concept.

You need two receptacles, a heating source and a sheet. You boil dirty water in one receptacle. The evaporate hits the sheet and condenses. Angle the sheet downward, then pure water drips into the second receptacle. My flare in the solar blanket could be the heat, source and sheet, respectively. I could also use my belay line and ropes to angle the blanket

properly. Unfortunately, my water bottle wouldn't work as a receptacle. Wrong shape. The hole is too small to catch or boil water. Also, the flare would burn right through the plastic. My metal first aid box could act as a pot, but I needed another receptacle. My rock climbing helmet was basically a large bowl, albeit one with air holes. Time and necessity are the mother of invention, and I have spades of both. I used the remainder of the gauze to plaster my granola bar wrappers over the holes outside of the helmet. I almost tested to see if it was leakproof before catching myself, so close to contaminating the whole thing. Sadly, my water will mix with my dried sweat, but at least it's sterile. A few hours after setting up my gizmo,

I sipped fresh water. Best damn thing I ever tasted. I ate the remainder of my granola bars. Who knows if they'd stay good without wrappers. Plus, I didn't want the smell to attract animals. Between the food and the water, I had a veritable desert feast. Without my head pounding and my stomach growling, I finally heard my body's other warning signals.

My knees writhing wasn't just from pain. I ripped off my gauze and screamed. Larva wriggled everywhere, across my knee, inside my flesh, eating everything. I screamed and cried as I clawed handfuls of larvae out of my knee. My own flesh and blood came out in chunks. I should have recognized those flies from their zebra stripes. Flesh flies. They're ubiquitous in the United States.

In my field of forensic science, flesh flies are one of the best ways to do. determine when a body has died. The insect immediately lay their eggs in a cadaver so their detrivers brood can hatch and feed. The larva will start devouring within a day. This means the flesh flies had been feasting on my leg for over a day, and I hadn't even felt them. I drowned my leg with the rest of the first aid kit's alcohol and braced myself for agony. None came. Oh my God, how much of my nerves did they eat? I popped. out the tweezer attachment of my pocket knife and went to work. Bloody larva after larva extracted. Then I saw something even more disturbing. A brown line ran up and down my leg, following the femoral artery.

Blood poisoning. Sepsis was often fatal in a hospital, and out here, it was a guaranteed death sentence. I could no longer wait for a rescue. While it was a 300-foot climb to return where I fell, The walls of my slot canyon only rose 40 feet to the west. That's roughly the direction of Moab, although I can't guarantee it's not a dead end. I drank the rest of the water in my distiller and dismantled it. I wrapped the last of my gauze around what remained of my knee. The helmet was still sopping wet when I strapped it on. Oh, wow.

I allowed myself a momentary respite to enjoy the trickle down my dried chapped skin. I rolled the solar blanket around my bad leg for cushioning. A shame I didn't have any sticks down here to make a splint. A useless leg while climbing was not ideal. I left everything else. There would be no return. My rope still hung securely even after three days. It should be fine to hold my weight.

Unfortunately, three days of little food and water had sapped me of my strength. I wasn't sure if I could climb 40 feet with three limbs and little energy. A disgusting idea popped into my head. I had a new source of food, high in protein and fat. In some places, larvae were a delicacy. I dry-wetched. Fortunately, I didn't have enough liquid in my stomach to vomit. Beggars can't be choosy, and I'm far more desperate than a panhandler.

I gathered up the larvae in a pile. and dry wretched again. Not only had the fleshflies feasted on me, but they were covered in my blood and tissue. Self-cannibalism in every bite. I gagged it down. Disgustingly, the familiar coppery taste of my blood was the tastiest part.

Wishing I hadn't drunk all my water, I shoved as many fly larvae into my mouth as possible. Finally, it was time for the climb. The western wall was smooth and I couldn't find a way up. I scanned the canyon wall and found a crack leading up 100 feet from the floor on the northern face, possibly a pathway over to the west. I cinched myself to the old rope and began. I knew I was in trouble for my strenuous first pull.

It's not far, I kept telling myself. I can make it. I tested if the slot canyon could handle anchors. No. Oh well, it didn't matter until I had to climb sideways. After the slowest climb in my life, I reached the 40-foot mark. My muscles screamed and water felt like a distant memory. I avoided the sun in the canyon, but now it was baking me alive. I started crab shuffling west. This was the most dangerous part of my climb. No matter how tight I made the rope, a slip would cause a full momentum pendulum crash to the canyon floor.

Do or die. The slot canyon walls were worn smooth by the sandy howling wind. While the crack had provided steady handholds, the journey west had no guarantees. All my years of climbing experience were needed to find the narrowest precipices I could grab. Sometimes my fingers were gripping on mere inches. Each time I moved, I had to swing my good leg to the next foothold.

brutally exhausting work. I came across an obstacle two-thirds of the way to the Western Wall. The only handhold was three fingers wide and an inch deep. There was a rocky outcrop I could grab onto next, so I wouldn't need the small hold for long. I swung my good leg onto a small bump. My foot wobbled, but I had little choice. I stretched my left hand over to the small handhold.

God, there was barely anything to clamp onto. As I reached with my right hand, my foot slipped. I yelled in pain as all my weight fell on the tips of my middle three fingers. Muscles snapped in my arm as my foot dug against the side of the wall. A foot hold! I pushed off and leaped to the rocky outcrop. Arms outstretched. I clenched the side of the wall as my legs smashed into it.

Excruciating pain rippled through my body, but I didn't care. I'm still alive. The remainder of the climb was easier, but my strength faded fast. I shimmied carefully over to the edge of the western wall. With a final tremendous heave, I pulled myself up. I don't know how long I lay there, barely able to breathe and giggling uncontrollably. Finally, I stood up. The human body wasn't designed to stand on a broken leg, but our bodies don't care.

Pain is a construct of our mind, warning our conscience, of irreparable damage. But when survival's on the line, the warnings shut off, and human beings are capable of the most extraordinary feats. I long passed to this point. I trudged forward on my new canyon path,

broken leg be damned. Maybe it led to another dead end, or perhaps the blood poisoning would get me. But by God, I wasn't going to quit until the Reaper came. Creepy presents. Night bear. written by Arthur J. and narrated by G.D. Hempton-V. Van Sant.

Ask any parent, and they can tell you, children seem pre-programmed for self-termination. The majority of time as a new parent is spent in a paranoid fever dream fueled by caffeine and adrenaline. Compulsively checking their babies breathing every 10 minutes while they sleep, overcome with love and anxiety. Before long, the baby learns to crawl, then walk, opening an entire world of death drafts. It's a miracle that the human race hasn't gone extinct with our offspring being so seemingly hell-bent on offing themselves. But as it turns out, children do not have a death wish, nor do they engage in reckless actions apropos of influence. Rather, they are being stalked, trapped, and hunted by spiritual beings beyond the boundaries of the physical dimension.

Most parents are too exhausted to give it much consideration. They take it one day at a time, doing their best to succeed in the world's most difficult and ill-prepared job. But they do occasionally notice it. Every now and then, they see their child stare off into space, attention fully locked on an empty corner of the room. Unseen by adults, a spirit waits for the moment when it can finally be alone to take the child's soul. Amber and Caitlin didn't think much of their daughter Crystal's fascination

on the spinning mobile as they lay her down for her afternoon nap. But if they had looked closer, they would have noticed that her sleepy gaze was actually to the right of her mobile. Crystal lay on her back in her crib, swaddled tight in a neon green baby blanket that gave her tiny figure the appearance of a chrysalis. Her chest slowly rose and lowered with each steady breath in time with the pulsing waves of brown noise. from Alexa opposite the baby monitor. She gnapped, blissfully unaware of the danger from the thin, spindly legs that hung down from her ceiling. The spirit kept two dark-pointed eyes fixed upon crystal

as the other eleven surveyed the room. Both the bedroom and closet doors were shut, and the window was securely latched with, its curtains drawn together to block the afternoon light. The entity started to descend, hovering past the spinning mobile, pulling its legs in close as it reached the high walls of the wooden crib. Crystal began to fuss as the spidery spirit lowered its torso over her, unable to resist the pull of energy from her body. Now all its eyes were locked upon Crystal, as she furrowed her brow and opened her mouth to let loose a cry,

her only defense mechanism against so much dark in this world. But the sound dissipated against the web of spiritual energy the kami had weaved around the crib. The spirit lowered itself onto Crystal, who gasped under its spirit pressure. Soon it would be satiated with her soul. Suddenly, the arthropod was lifted into the air and tossed out of the crib. Momentarily stunned, it flailed its legs.

Finding purchase on the wall, the spirit pulled itself upright and scurried toward the ceiling, eyes spinning rapidly to find the one responsible for interrupting its repast. Everything in the room looked identical to how it had prior to its descent into the crib. not a shadow out of place. Slowly, it paced a circle along the walls of the room, careful to register each and every source of energy in the dark space. There, under the crib, was a faint glow of yellow, mixed with the green of the child,

easily missed when directly above, but more visible from a side view. The spider spirit, leapt from the wall, flipped over the crib, and landed gracefully on the floor. As it lowered its torso to the ground, two arms shot out from the darkness under the crib, and took hold of its front legs. Reflexively, the spirit pulled back against the grasp, but could not escape the iron grip. Pulses of white-hot lightning shot through it as its front legs were torn away from its torso.

It scurried back up the wall, eyes fixed on the space under the crib, fangs chittering rabidly in anger. From the space underneath the crib, a rainbow bright doll emerged holding a spidery leg in each hand. Strands of yellow yarn were pulled back into a ponytail, letting the doll lock eyes with the hostile spirit. It reached back its arms and harpooned the spider spirit with the thin needle appendages. The entity gave a final twitch as its essence dissipated into the ether. The doll turned to see the energy web that had encased the crib evaporate into the atmosphere, while crystal lay wide-eyed, but unconcerned. Rainbow Bright returned to its vigil, resting among the stuffed animals gathered in a net hanging in the corner of the room, waiting for Crystal's parents to pick her up from her afternoon nap.

Such is the unseen battle of humanity. Since the beginning, there has been both a physical and spiritual existence, matter, and energy. All life starts as spiritual. energy that can manifest into a physical being. New to the material realm, human children can perceive spiritual beings as their brains have not developed a robust psychic defense against spiritual influence. Much like an immune system, it needs time and exposure to strengthen. Ironically, this defense is what prevents a parent from being able to perceive the dangers that haunt their children.

Thankfully, most spirits are not powerful enough to directly engage with the physical realm. These entities can only interact with the child visually or auditorially. Through this influence, they set the child up to have their soul harvested upon death. So, don't feel too bad about that time you went to the bathroom for just a moment. and return to find your kid, naked, swinging from their room light, or sitting on top of a rickety bookcase with their hand in an aquarium, a fish clutched in their fist. Parents do a good job of protecting their children from these scavengers,

and as a child grows, their brain develops the barriers necessary to protect them from these psychic attacks. Eventually, they grow beyond the influence, of their imaginary friends, but still believe in guardian angels. The memories of their earliest assaults are lost with the other experiences of being a toddler, but the fear lives on in their subconscious as phobias, most universally a fear of the dark. But every once in a while, there comes a spirit that is powerful enough to steal the child's soul while they still live.

These beings are so formidable that their influence can be sensed, even by adults. An unnerving sense of dread that can't be ignored, apparent's intuition. These entities stick to the shadows and target children when they are alone at night, leaving parents to wake to their worst nightmare. We call this sudden infant death syndrome, but in the past we had a better grasp on the true cause and took step to protect our young at night.

Our ancestors invoked a humunculus, a container in which a spirit could reside, to stand watch over our children and protect them from spiritual predation. Oftentimes, homunculi are the superiors. spirit of a family member, a loved one whose physical body has failed, but whose spirit lingers on seeking to protect their family. For others, it is an idelon, a spiritual being that protects a lineage out of gratitude for an ancestor's long-forgotten actions. Even today, humunculi stand guard over children at night while parents get much-needed rest, though many cultures have forgotten why we give the children dolls in the first place. They do battle with spirit intruders as they are able to sense their spiritual energy and do damage to their spiritual forms. While they do not reside in living

bodies, humunculi can absorb spiritual and even physical damage that can render them too weak to defeat a powerful spirit. Over millennia, we have made great advances in our knowledge and technology to produce a humunculus doll. Corn husks, straw, and pebbles were replaced with wood, cotton, and glass, and subsequently, wood, cotton, and glass were replaced with plastic, polyester, and resin. Caitlin and Amber brought Crystal home four months ago. Amber's pregnancy had been fraught with illness, both preclampsia and gestational diabetes. She was ordered to bed rest in the last trimester, and Caitlin stayed home to ensure that her needs were met.

It was an oddity of American society that they should both be able to take maternity leave, but human resources at Caitlin's employer had not gotten around to updating their policy, post-Obergapel. And there was no legal distinction between being a pregnant woman and being a woman expecting a child. As such, Caitlin was able to take the full-term maternity leave offered by her company, instead of the standard two-week paternity leave, even though she was not the one who was pregnant in the household. Of course, it was American maternity leave. which only granted job security with no pay,

but their state offered additional financial programs to support families while on leave. The idelon that awoke that night insouled within a rainbow bright doll. It had served Amber's bloodline every generation since her ancestor Arepo had built a shrine to honor the spirit world. It had protected Amber as an infant,

insouled within a cabbage patch doll, and her father before that, insouled within a G.I. Joe. And now it had been called again to look after Crystal. The Idleon observed the environment of Caitlin and Amber's home through unblinking eyes as the new mothers doaded over their precious child. They lived in a modest two-story house with hardwood floors and high ceilings that reminded the idyllon of Amber's great-grandfather's Victorian home. His family was the first to leave the Mediterranean and settle in the United States in the late 1800s.

Every surface of the house was free of clutter, each item tucked neatly away in its proper place. Caitlin was particularly attentive to the cleanliness of the house. always the first to pick up any object that fell onto the ground, unwilling to give up until the offending detritus was located and placed in the trash. The sight of a violet Roomba caused a momentary panic in the Guardian as it gently swept around the room. Technology had progressed at such a rapid pace in the past century. It was always a wonder to see the new devices in the living spaces.

For hundreds of years, the Idleon looked after children in dirt floor hovels and had been carried along to farm fields to assist with minor chores like feeding chicken's stale bread or dipping long candles. But after the 19th century, Every generation's conditions radically changed from the last. Horse and carts were replaced by trains. Trains were replaced by automobiles and planes. Hand-written letters are now sent electronically,

and robots cleaned the floors at the direction of a virtual assistant. The Idleon thought back to the first time it saw a television, and how it nearly destroyed the device when the white static suddenly contorted to the Howdy-Duty show within the vacuum tube screen, mistaking the images for a malevolent spirit. In just 60 years, those devices had evolved beyond the doll's wildest imaginations. Instead of a large, heavy wooden cabinet with a vacuum tube, display, the Idleon observed a small plastic device that projected a wide image on a screen, stretched out on the opposite wall. While most of it today would be spent observing children's shows,

it hoped to watch the return of the king while it cuddled in Crystal's arms. Amber was four when the first movie in the Lord of the Rings series came out, but had grown passed the need for the Idleon before the third movie made it to DVD. When their charge grew past the point of needing a guardian, a homunculus spirit rejoined the universe as cosmic energy to await the call to protect the next generation. It fondly recalled bedtime readings of The Hobbit as Amber cuddled her cabbage patch kid. Her father's voice soft and clear, as he used a different voice for each dwarf in the party. The Idleon was glad to see Amber had already taken the precautions of installing gates and door

handle covers, even though Crystal would not require them for many months. Modern technology had made guarding children significantly easier. In the past, weak spirits could easily tempt toddlers to knock over lit candles or stick forks into electrical outlets. Many fables and folk tales were created as humunculi were forced to move in order to ensure the safety of their charge. The stories of gremlins, goblins, or elves are all products of a humunculus protecting their young,

moving objects that could be used to tempt children or sabotaging pieces of furniture that could harm a child. Nowadays, a weak spirit must go to such extremes to reap a child that its chances of success are very low. It was the more powerful ones, like the spider spirit, capable of extracting a child's soul, that the idealon endeavored to destroy. Within the home stood a bright,

blue door, one that never opened. The Idleon observed pictures upon the stairs that told the story of another child. It did not take long for it to piece together the story from the collage. Caitlin had gotten pregnant with her first child. Pictures showed the boy taking his first steps and playing in the bath. A Halloween picture. showed him dressed in a red, yellow, and green Robin onesy, while he held a teddy bear with a cape and Batman mask. Brown eyes and chubby cheeks smiled gleefully as frost and covered fingers reached out toward a tiny orange cake

with a paraffin candle in the shape of the number one. Sadly, there were no pictures of a second birthday cake on the wall. The previous humunculus must have died trying to protect the boy. Amber and Caitlin handled the stress of a newborn well, as they adjusted to the midnight feedings and developmental milestones, all under the watchful eye of Rainbow Bright. As Crystal was their second child, both moms knew what to expect as she grew quickly out of onesies and started to roll over. They both watched with joyful tears in their eyes as Crystal shrieked in frustration

while she tried desperately to figure out how to crawl forward, but only managed to pull herself backwards with each kick of her legs. The Idalon smiled as it recalled a similar look of frustration from Amber as she tried to figure out how to walk in the living room of her childhood home. Before long, both Amber and Caitlin had to return to work, but Crystal remained safe at daycare. At night, the Idalon stood vigil, fighting off the occasional spirit to ensure that Amber's line would live on. Crystal was eight months old when she started eating bits of solid food. Caitlin seemed especially nervous during meal times and constantly fussed over.

the types and cuts of food. She always made sure the hot dogs were cut lengthwise, never in rounds, grapes were diced into quarters, and nothing was allowed to be larger than her pinky in size. Amber sat alongside Caitlin for every meal helping to dice the food and suggesting different varieties to expand Crystal's palette. night, Crystal started to cough as she shoved a handful of spaghetti into her mouth. Caitlin's chair toppled over to the floor as she rushed to pick up Crystal and smack her solidly on the back. Amber hurried to assist as Crystal began to cry from the force of each strike. Caitlin collapsed under the weight of heavy sobs as both mother and daughter wept.

Having wiped tears and ragu sauce from her daughter's face, Amber placed Crystal in her playpen and returned to the kitchen to console her partner. That night, there was little conversation as the table was cleared and food was put away. Amber gave Crystal a bath as Caitlin stood in front of the blue door, unable to turn the knob and walk inside. Together, they wrestled Crystal into her pajamas

and went about their nightly ritual of dimming the lights and listening to the soothing brown noise as each mom took turns reading picture books. As soon as Crystal had fallen asleep, the women retired to their own room to comfort one another. Around one o'clock, Rainbow Bright overheard the sound of footsteps overhead. The doll turned its head to scan the popcorn ceiling for predatory spirit, but nothing emerged from the shadows. The idelon leapt from the toy net and silently landed on the floor beside the crib.

Crystal laid peacefully asleep, wrapped in her indigo baby blanket, a gift from Caitlin's mother. It checked the space under the crib to ensure there was nothing hiding. before walking towards the closet. Rapid, soft impacts raced across the ceiling, signaling the intruder was on the second floor. Rainbow Bright slipped into the hallway and silently crossed the living room, only stopping to allow the Rumba time to return to its charging station. Stairs were a bit of a hassle, as the humunculus was only 18 inches tall. But it managed with a series of acrobatics that would have made Jesse Owens jealous.

Of course, he had muscles and bones that could be injured, whereas the doll was made of nylon and polyester. At the top of the stairs, the Idleon moved to the only room in the house it had never entered. The one with a bright blue door. The door hinges emitted a soft sigh as they turned for the first time in several years. The room looked similar to crystals, a singular window that stood closed to the right of the closet. A long wooden chest sat against the wall opposite a wooden crib, both covered in a layer of dust. A soft thud from within the chest caused the lid to the lid to.

jump but remain in place due to a brass latch. The ideal unstealed itself as it quickly crossed the room to do battle with the imprisoned spirit. Being a cloth doll, it had very little ability to hold any weapons, but its plastic hands served as excellent hammers to bludgeon offending spirits. It turned the latch on the chest with both hands and stood back. ready to strike whatever emerged from the dark. A flash of claws and teeth erupted from the wooden box. It moved with such speed that Rainbow Bright was surprised to find itself pinned to the ground face

down, razor-sharp talons threatening to shred the fabric that held the doll together. With a sudden jerk, Rainbow Bright quickly twisted her head around 180 degrees, to see what was pinning her down. The creature stared down at her, through one large eye, lips pulled back displaying sharp incisors and pointed canines. Did you check the closet? It asked in a firm but urgent tone. Rainbow Bright's eyes widened as it realized its mistake.

The weight that pinned the idelon to the ground, suddenly evaporated. Rainbow Bright looked up in time to see the flutter of a black cape escape through the doorframe. It quickly got to its feet and rushed to the stairs, stepping between the banister and rails and leaping to the first floor, softly rolling to preserve the forward momentum. As it reached Crystal's door, the idelon could see the closet door open wide. Rainbow Bright entered the room to find a gassed standing beside the crib.

Blue lips and wispy red hair stood out starkly against its pale features, which were ruined by jagged red gashes that gave the spirit a sad, weeping appearance. The ghoulish clown lashed out a skeletal hand to swat its opponent away, but the one-eyed teddy bear vaulted over the emaciated limb, tucking into a roll that sent it under Crystal's crib. Rainbow Bright watched as the stuffed bear bounced off the opposite wall to leap up to the crib. Perched on the railing, the bear turned its head to look down at the idelon.

Are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to get to work? It asked in a matter-of-fact tone. The idelon called out a warning as the gassed approached from the bear's blind spot. The swipe caught the bear in the side, pulling it off the crib, but it managed to sink its claws into the spirit's arm and bite into the bicep, ripping it apart below the elbow. The idelon rushed forward and landed a drop kick to the chest, of the gas, knocking it to the ground.

The spirit weased a mournful death rattle as the teddy bear sank its teeth into its throat, tearing it out with a few powerful thrust of its mandible. From under the door, a beam of light cut across the hardwood floor of Crystal's room. The bear rushed to the closet, and, in the blink of an eye, had the door shut as Rainbow Bright simply collapsed to the ground. Caitlin and Amber entered the room, unable to perceive the dissipating corpse of the morbid mime on the floor. They walked to the crib,

and Caitlin put a gentle hand on Crystal's chest to feel her even breathing. Amber assured her that everything was fine and that she was just spooked from the event at dinner. But seeing the look in her lover's eyes, she offered to bring Crystal into their room for the rest of the night. Caitlin stood and pulled Amber into a comforting embrace that ended with a gentle kiss. Amber picked Crystal out of the crib, softly cradling her in the crook of her arm. Before they left the room, Caitlin picked up the rainbow bright doll and placed it back

into the toy hammock in the corner. Soft steps shuffled across the living room, and when the latch of the master bedroom door sounded, Rainbow Bright jumped down from the net and addressed the closet door. Thank you for protecting Crystal. The closet door opened as the teddy walked into the room. Its fur had seen better days with several mothy-in holes that allowed tufts of cotton to be exposed to the night air.

Its visage was worn and haggard, with one large button eye stitched to the right side of its face and a broken piece of thread dangling from the left. It had retracted its claws, and its muzzle no longer displayed teeth as it trudged toward the bedroom door. His cape was torn in several places, creating black ribbons of varying lengths that fluttered with each step. The Adelon stepped into the path of the bear, forcing it to stop its exit from the room.

Who are you? I am no one. The bear replied, as it continued its journey back to the wooden chest upstairs. The Idleon turned on one foot and placed a solid punch to the back of the bear's head. The bear flew forward from the force of the blow and ricocheted off the wall next to the bedroom door. Before it had a chance to get up, Rainbow Bright placed its foot on the bear's chest. I asked you a question. The bear let out a sigh.

If I tell you who I am, Will you let me go back to the room? Yes, replied the Idleon, easing the pressure of its foot as a gesture of good faith. Crystal is not the first child of this family. Caitlin had a child three years ago. I am her grandfather.

I passed away before she gave birth, and I stayed to protect the child. Now, let me up, the bear demanded. Rainbow Bright raised its leg and allowed the bear to stand. What took your child? The bear said nothing, only looked down at the ground. Rainbow Bright looked at the bear, at the spot where its left eye was once stitched.

Suddenly, it all made terrible sense. The obsessive cleaning, the anxiety during meals, Caitlin's overreaction to the coughing. The spirit was powerful. The bear spoke into the darkness. I was not able to destroy it, but I did cause it enough harm to make it leave the house. During the fight, it severed my eye,

but I continued to fight to protect my great-grandson. After the spirit fled, I turned around and I saw him gasping. His face was red, but his lips were so blue. I jumped on him and tried to pull the button from his throat. But Caitlin came in the room. In all the confusion, she simply assumed he had chewed the button off my face. She threw me off him and screamed for Amber to call for hands. help. I had to lie there and watch as she desperately blew air into his body. I heard his ribs

crack from the chest compressions, and I watched his soul leave his body as the paramedics wheeled him out the door. The Idleon had served Amber's family for many generations, and in that time, It had never failed to protect a child from a spirit, but it had suffered the loss of a child from disease and illness. It understood the terrible sense of loss and loathing that the bear would be dealing with for the three years it was locked in the wooden chest. You could have moved on, the Idleon said. When your only child died, you could have released your essence.

Why did you stay? The bear simply stood in silence. Punishing yourself will not bring him back. The doll said as it placed a plastic hand on the bear's shoulder. The bear looked up, but its gaze was fixed across the hall. something's not right. It growled as it walked past the idelon. Silently, they crossed the hall and stopped in front of the master bedroom door.

Both dolls sent a presence beyond the door, one of sadness and frustration. The bear jumped up and grabbed the handle while Rainbow Bright pushed the door open. In the room, Darkness enveloped the space. Vague outlines of makeup vanities and plush ottomans could be observed in the soft glow of an LED nightlight. On the bed sat a shadow figure. Malice radiated from it as the humunculi carefully walked towards it. With a quick boost, the bear tossed the idelon on top of the bed and quickly climbed up.

the bed spread. The entity sat on Caitlin's chest with dark red eyes that stared down at Crystal, who rested between her mothers. Though Caitlin's eyes were opened wide, staring upwards at the entity with fear and anguish, she made no move to toss the demon off her chest, paralyzed with regret. Rainbow Bright stepped forward, ready to battle the creature, when the bedside bear placed a soft paw on its shoulder. It's Alex. The bear said with a twinge of pain. At the sound of his name, the entity looked up and grabbed the idelon,

crushing it within its grip. The protective spirit was unable to move, clutched in the grip of the child, as the essence began to erode from within the doll. Alex Red glowing eyes glared over the rainbow bright towards the bear that no longer stood on the edge of the bed The stuffed bear sat slumped to one side Lifeless

Beyond the bed stood the figure of an old man He walked over to Caitlin's side of the bed And put a comforting hand on his great-grandson's shoulder The boy relented as the old man reached down and remove the idelon from his death grip. He placed the doll on the bed next to the stuffed bear and returned to pick the boy off his mother's chest. Resting on the old man's hip, the child's spirit wrapped its arms around his great-grandfather. As they turned, the old man looked down at the rancel. rainbow bright doll.

Take good care of him, he said. The Idalon nodded and watched as the two spirits passed beyond the boundaries of the physical world. The Idalon looked over at Caitlin, whose eyes were now closed as she breathed steadily. It took the teddy bear back to the chest in Alex's room before returning to the toy net. In all of its existence, the Idleon had never witnessed such an event as it had that night. It hoped to meet those two on the other side once its time with Crystal had reached its end. For more information on this podcast, including how to submit your own story for consideration,

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