Creepy - I'm a Marine Biologist Studying Blue Whales in the Pacific Ocean

Episode Date: July 5, 2021

The ocean is a big place... The Creepypasta Anthology***Written by Engoby***Bonus Episode: "My Wife Won't Stop Mothering A Baby Doll", written by sinkintothefloof, narrated by Danielle Hewitt***Check out our reward tiers at patreon.com/creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/creepypod***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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Creepy Presents. I'm a marine biologist studying blue whales in the Pacific Ocean. They are not the largest animal in the world. Written by Engaby and produced by Steve Blissen. Through the course of millennial, of mankind is made an effort to explore every frontier this world has to offer. Every undiscovered region has been prioritized by humans to conquer. No leaf ignored, no stone unturned.

The predetermined notion is that mankind is at the top of the food chain. Apex predators with no natural superior. Nothing to stop us other than our own willpower. I mean, we've made it this far, right? Wrong. A few years back I embarked on a research expedition studying the migration habits, blue whales, and the Pacific Ocean. And while on that trip, I realized that we are in fact not the Earth's apex predators. In fact, we're most likely relatively low on the food chain.

Please forgive me. I'm rambling. Let me introduce myself. My name is Zach Kigrell. I'm a marine biologist that specializes in the feeding, migration, and migration. and mating habits of whales, particularly the blue whale. The largest animal on earth, or so I thought. Through all my years in practice, there was nothing more exhilarating than putting on a dive suit and swimming within an arm's reach of a creature so astronomically massive,

just to be able to poke a tracker in it. It was almost humbling, looking into an eye the size of your head, and gazing into its soul as it swims past you. leaving a wake that propels you backwards. It gave me an adrenaline rush like never before. I'd embarked on many expeditions in the past. My most recent accomplishment being able to determine and predict with 90% accuracy down to the grid point, the location of certain pods during certain times of the year due to the movement of certain swarms of krill.

The expedition that led me to writing this story was the test-eye for this accomplishment. We were going to see if what I predicted was actually accurate. We had a small team of researchers, Dr. Sarah Renger, a fellow marine biologist, Dr. Jacob Akapov, a Russian oceanographer, Dr. Chris Hatfield, an American oceanographer, and myself. Accompanying us on this expedition was a small crew and a captain whose sole job was to maintain the ship, and gets from point A to point B. We got a five-day trip ahead of us, you ready, Slugger? said Sarah.

Slugger was a nickname I'd picked up a few years back, a colleague's softball game when I proceeded to hit the ball straight out of the park and land this grand slam securing my team's win. I think I've had enough time to get my sea legs under me. It's not me you should be asking, I replied, giving a slight gesture to one of the crew members who was looking exceptionally sick. After the team and crew were done preparing for the journey, we all met in the bridge to discuss the location to where we were headed and what we all needed to do.

Since the mission was to test my hypothesis, I was deemed the leader and subsequently gave the briefing. All right, everybody, listen up. Before we get into it, I would like to thank Captain Ryder and his crew for allowing me and my team to use his vessel. I'm sure if we all do what we're supposed to do and conduct our jobs correctly, we'll be able to get along just fine. That got a good condescending laugh going around the crew. Captain Ryder took a long drag off a cigarette and proceeded to scoff. I gave a quick glance to Chris, who mawis to me, great going, jackass. Rubbing the back of my neck, making it very obvious of my nervousness, I continued.

We will be heading to grid point 34 degrees, 50 minutes by 9 seconds north, 140 degrees, 13 minutes, 39 seconds west. If my estimations are correct, that should be exactly where a pot of blue whales migrated. two. My team will be based in the lower bunks and we'll be conducting our operations on the upper deck. Why do we have to give up a part of our upper deck for a bunch of white-collar scientists? One of the crew members blurted out. After a few nods of agreement between the crew, Sarah chimed in. Listen, we all know this arrangement isn't ideal, but with your cooperation we can get this done as smoothly as possible. Five days there, two days spent studying, five days back. Twelve days. I think we can all make it through that. You all, of course, will be paid by

company for allowing us to conduct our research on your ship. The mention of monetary compensation seemed to calm them all down for the moment. And after discussing a few housekeeping details, we were ready to set sail. Two days into the voyage, I decided to walk up to the deck late at night for an evening stroll. The air was bitter, the night's sky and moon illuminating the ocean below it. I noticed that Sarah was sitting on a chair looking out into the water. I saw an empty chair not too far from her, so I pulled it up beside her and sat down with her. Hey, didn't realize I wasn't the only one that liked to come out here late at night. She gave a light chuckle.

I liked her chuckles. They relaxed me. She offered me a cigarette. No, I'm okay. I quit. I'm trying to do the whole Nicarat thing, you know. She put the pack back in her pocket, continuing to take log draggs out of hers. Do you remember shortly after we got divorced when you told me my senile grandma, God rest her soul, showed up with presents congratulating us for getting a dog or something like that? She said.

Yeah, I do. Her dementia really got the best of her sometimes. I missed that woman. I probably should have mentioned this before. Me and Sarah used to be married. We met in graduate school. I had our graduation to receive our master's. I proposed on stage.

We got divorced not too long after the death of our unborn child. His name was going to be Elliot. Fortunately, after some time apart, we managed to maintain a healthy friendship, as well as a professional relationship. What do you think he would have been like? I asked. Dumb is a box of rocks if he inherited your genes, Sarah said between laughs.

No, really. What do you think he would have been like if he was here today? I asked, this time making eye contact with her. Sarah looked out into the water. I don't know. I like to think he would have been happy, enjoying his life. I also like to think he's looking down on us. Not blaming us.

I pondered this for a moment. Was he looking down on us? I'd always believed in a god, but was our son actually looking down on us at this moment? We sat in silence for a little while before I decided to go back to bat. Let me know if you need anything. I'm going to turn in for the night. See you tomorrow. I said in my most kind voice possible.

Okay, good night. She replied without even glancing at me. Her eyes fixed on the water. Three days later, we started to approach our grip point. The entire team was up on deck as the ship's theme forward, looking out onto the horizon. Do you see anything? I asked Jacob as he appeared through the binoculars. No, not yet. He said through his thick Russian accent. Wait, blowholes. I see blowholes. Let me see.

Chris yelled as he grabbed the binoculars from Jacob. Yep, that's them! I'd done it. My theory was correct. The entire team cheered and high-five me, congratulating me for my achievement. As we relished in our excitement, Captain Ryder brought the boat to a halt, and we began preparing. As exciting as this was, it was now time to get to work. We ran down to our bunks, gripped our equipment, and started to set up shop on the deck. Me, Sarah and Chris grabbed our dive suits, or spears to place trackers on the whales,

waterproof cameras, as well as oxygen kits. Jacob grabbed his radar system and began setting it up on the deck. We were all ecstatic to get in the water with these majestic creatures. We could see the pink swarm of krill and the mass of whales swimming through them. Right off the bat I cone at six, but I assume there were a few more deeper in the water. Me, Sarah and Chris kidded up, lowered our boat into the water, and gently stirred the head in the direction of the whales, which were about 100 yards out, was one of the crew members on board with us to help us get back in.

Jacob elected to stay behind in order to confirm a first. we had successfully placed our trackers on the whales. From there, we could study their movements, how long they stayed in one area before migrating. It was my now proven correct hypothesis, predict where they would head next. We brought the boat to a stop at around 70 feet from the whales, as not to spook them.

I was the first enemy. Right as I submerged in the water, I noticed two adults that we hadn't seen previously at around 100 feet below its surface. I heard a splash next to me and saw that the same. Sarah and Chris dived in. Couch! Sarah said over the earpiece we all had in.

Eight. I replied. Look below. Two adults. Probably letting the females eat first. I guess chivalry isn't dead after all. Chris said jokingly. We admired the creatures for quite some time.

Get some photos before we try to plant the trackers. Sarah suggested. I pulled out the underwater camera and began snapping photos of the whales. We measured two of the females that are on 70 feet to try to get an average size for the pod. The next step was the trackers. But right before we began preparing, the whales began to act odd. They were acting distressed as if something was deeply, deeply wrong. This wasn't normal behavior for a distressed whale, though. They made the normal sounds that distressed whale does, but they were swimming upward as if they were trying to escape the water.

They would swim and shoot their heads out of the water, only to fall right back in. Their distress calls got louder and louder as if they were frustrated and afraid that they couldn't get out of the water. I heard Chris over the earpiece. What the hell's happening? What are they doing? Before I had a chance to respond, I heard Jacob come on the line as well. Zach, what's going on out there? What are the whales doing? Everyone be quiet. Let me think for a minute. I blurted out over the calm.

line. The whales began to thrash and jump even higher out of the water. They were getting close, and the situation was becoming dangerous. All right, everyone, let's get back in the boat. This is getting unsafe. We began swimming towards boat, but right as we began to head back, a massive tentacle shot up from the deep. Now, when I say massive, I don't mean pretty big. Each suction cup was the size of a small house at least. It was The gargantuan. It wrapped itself around one of the whales and pulled it down with such force. We descended at least fifty feet.

The whales were going crazy at this point. Distress calls were raining out through the ocean. Crel began swimming everywhere. I could barely see Sarah and Chris. What was that? Chris screamed out. I heard Sarah yell. What is going on out there?

Jacob screamed into the mic. The entire scene had turned into utter chaos. We began swimming up to try and reach the boat, but right at the moment another tentacle shot up from the deep and wrapped itself around another whale. The whale screamed out in agony before it was wretchedly pulled down to its watery grave. The force of the pole yanked us down even deeper. It was getting unsafe to be at the steps. We needed to get out of here immediately. We needed to get as far away from whatever Eldridge horror lurked beneath us.

We began swimming up again. Chris, about 50 feet to my left. Sarah, I couldn't find Sarah. I looked panically around me, but there was no sight of her. Where's Sarah? I yelled over the mic. Chris began to look around too. Did she already make it up? He asked.

At that moment, we heard crackling over the earpiece. I'm over here, do you right, Zach? I looked over and saw her about 70 to 80 feet away from me. Sarah, you need to swim in our direction and up now. I demanded. I noticed that there was a whale above her. Sarah, get out. Out of the way of the whistle!

It was all I could get out before one of those godforsaken tentacles shot up from the depths and pulled the whale under. Catching Sarah in its wake, scream over the microphone. Jacob was screaming like crazy, demanding I tell him what was happening. Didn't care. My ex-wife, the would-be mother and my child, my close friend, was that I couldn't compose myself any longer. I began hyperventilating. burning through my oxygen, when I felt something slamming to me. It was Chris.

Get yourself together, man. It's gone. We have to save ourselves. It was then we heard the loudest sound either of us had ever heard in our lives. It sounded like a thousand train engines going off at once. One hundred nuclear explosions all happening at the same time. The ocean shook violently. Tell me what the hell is going on right now.

I'm diving in there myself. I heard Jacob scream with all his might over the mic. Still ignoring, me and Chris look down. Each at least 2,000 feet in length with suction cups, the size of landing pads began rising up from the depths. As they grew closer, hundreds of smaller tentacles writhing and wriggling near the maw of whatever this beast was. While we weren't paying attention,

The massive tentacles proceeded to rise out of the water. Once again, I heard Jacob's voice. However, he wasn't talking to me this time. In the background, I heard mass confusion between the crew members. My God! What is it? The skull. Jacob's voice over the mic must have snapped me and Chris out of our trains because we immediately began swimming upwards. As if despair was destined that day.

however, I heard Chris scream out in agony. I snapped my head around and saw Chris Ben Pierce with a stinger-like limb that had shot out of one of those massive suction cups. I watched as that massive tentacle lowered itself down into the ocean taking my face with him. It was only a matter of time before I was next. I couldn't stop. I had to swim. Keep swimming. Keep swimming.

Don't stop. I then heard a loud crackling noise. I looked in the direction of the sound and saw another tentacle had wrapped itself around the ship and was beginning to pull it under. I saw crew members dive into the water and a feeble attempt to escape to peace grasp. It's similar to the spear that had gotten Jake, the tiny biological harpoon were shooting out of the suction cups and picking off each sail one by one. It was as if the tentacle had a mind of its own. As tragic as this was, it was distracted. This was my chance.

I shot myself upwards with great force. I saw the ship being pulled slowly down along with the punctured crew members. I could only assume Jacob was among them. Right as I neared the boat, it came crashing under, nearly hitting me. One of those damned stingers that shot ran through it and pulled a crew member that was on the boat under. How did it know he was on it? And how did it knock on me yet? Chunks of wood floated to the surface.

I heard another of those loud, guttural roars and looked down. The creature now had its gaping maw open, and it could see its eyes. Three gargantuan sets of eyes peered up to the surface. Each could have been an ocean themselves. The teeth... My God, the teeth. Each the size of buildings, razors sharp and designed to kill. The inside of its mouth gave off an orange glow, resembling a portal

to hell itself. The light it produced perfectly illuminated the creatures. With all the chaos, I hadn't even stopped to think what this thing might have been. Due to the tentacles, I just assumed there was a previously discovered species of Godzilla squid when described the face. An almost reptilian, Eldridge horror that completely embodied every awful thing I could imagine. Its three mass of eyes gave off the face. such hate and anger.

This thing shouldn't have existed. A spawn in the devil himself. Watched as it pulled my ship and all of the crew with it into its mouth and swallowed them effortlessly. I stared at it, hoping it would pierce me like it did Sarah and Chris and the crew. I was begging it to, but it never did. It just sat there, gazing up to the surface. surface with that unfiltered raw anger and hate burning in its eyes.

It gave off one more ear-piercing roar before it descended into the deep. I said there floated, watching it get deeper and deeper, until the very tip of the longest tentacle eventually disappeared into the deep. As if on autopilot, I propelled myself up to a floating piece of driftwood left behind from the destroyed boat. Thankfully, it was big enough for me to climb onto. I lay there for hours, completely hopeless, stranded. I remember thinking to myself, I'll probably die out here. But I was fine with that at this point.

I fully accepted it. That was the last thing I remember before passing out. I woke to the sound of helicopter blades getting closer. Through my blurred vision, I saw a navy vessel in the distance, and a helicopter approaching. I'd apparently been adrift for two days, completely unconscious and barely hanging on to life. Navy doctors were amazed at how I was alive with how dehydrated I was.

After a few days spent recovering, I was interviewed by representatives of the company I worked for, as well as the company that built the ship we were on. I had to explain why three of my colleagues were dead, and why a ship disappeared along with the crew, me being the only survivor. It was faulty equipment and poor maintenance. One of the motors overheated and exploded, causing a reaction with the fuel.

I was on the deck for a late night stroll when I saw the stern and the ship go up in flames. I tried to warn people, but the fire quickly spread, and I had no choice but to hop onto the lifeboat. The fire reached the boat and burned away most of it quicker than I could lower it. By the time I reached the water, I was left for the water. with only a piece of driftwood, was what I told them. It was either give them a BS story that they could put in the headlines or tell them the truth and be deemed delirious and traumatized and they admitted into a psych ward.

I used to not believe in monsters. Biblical stories from the ancients, of Leviathans, and horrors beyond our understanding. I thought it was all make-believe. As I sit here saying this now, three years later, I still refused to step foot in the ocean. I retired as soon as I returned to shore, using the money I'd saved up to live within my means for as long as I can. Every now and then I think about my colleagues, especially Sarah. I like to think she's looking down on me with our would-be child.

Just like we talked about on the deck that one night, if you're listening to this, The ocean is an untamed, lawless alien world that lives subsequent to ours. The bloop? Strange recordings from the deep. Cataclysmic movements attributed to glaciers or tectonic plates. Before you immediately write those off, just remember. I have seen what lies beneath. Bonus episode.

Creepy Presents. my wife won't stop mothering a baby doll written by sinking to the fluff and narrated by Danielle Hewitt we were so sure this time so sure that we told our friends and family so sure that we painted the nursery pink and fantasized about our little girl growing to take her first steps

and speaking her first words I'm not sure what to do now Do we continue with our lives? I guess the best course of action is to move on the best we can. I grabbed a pot from the cabinet and began boiling some water on our electric stove. The water bubbled and hissed. I watched the water steam and release into the air. I broke my attention from the water and focused it on Irene.

It was now sitting and glaring at me. Her eyes were still the same green I fell in love with many years ago. But now they were dulled. She huffed, weakly stood to her feet, and waddled down the hall. I let her be. The third pregnancy took a toll on her body and mine. She has lost a substantial amount of weight.

Stretch marks riddled her abdomen, which now sagged along with her breasts. Her face was puffy, especially around her eyes. The life had been sucked right out of her. I found her down the hall. There she was, rocking back and forth in the nursery, with one of the dolls we had picked out for Lucy. I approached her and knelt, putting my hands on her thighs and squeezing lightly.

Her eyes met mine. They were swampy, and water overflowed down her cheeks. I'm at a loss for words here. There was nothing I could say her due to console her. I so badly wanted to take away. her pain. As the days passed, postpartum depression engulfed Irene. I became aware that there was really nothing in my power I could do to revive her. She spent the day sleeping and I spent my days working. Despite our losses, life does not cease and the world spins on. I kept telling myself this,

ignoring that the real reason I picked up double shifts at work was to avoid that painful house. I am powerless. As much as much of my mother. I am, as I longed for my baby girl. It was nothing I could do to bring her back. Coming home each day, I'd find Irene right where I left her, under the sheets of our bed, cradling the doll from the day of Lucy's death. Irene made it a habit to treat the doll as if it were actually Lucy. She put diapers on it, changing them every few hours, and then discarding the clean diapers in our trash. She even let it suckle, bringing the doll. which was wrapped in Lucy's blanket to her chest.

Lucy's clothes curiously fit the doll well, and Irene made sure to pick out a new outfit each day for the doll. Ridiculously, she named it Lucy. The thing is, I thought Lucy was a normal doll. Her body was squishy like a pillow, the stuffing neatly sewn inside of a cloth frame. Her arms and legs were plastic and dangled from the body like dead weight.

Her head was plastic too. her eyes would either open or shut in response to the doll's position. Sitting here at the dinner table with us, her eyes were open, and her head was tilted towards me. Irene started eating again, and we resumed our habit of having dinner together each night. I'd come home from my double shift to a candlelit meal prepared specially for me on some days. It was like life was returning, and my days would become normal again. I looked at my wife, whose eyes had a light behind them again. She looked at me and smiled.

I hadn't seen that smile in so long. In turn, I couldn't help but smile back. As I lay next to Irene under the safety of our sheets that night, I pondered if Irene was really okay. Her spunk had returned and she was being more active around the house. But she cared for Lucy, as if the lifeless doll, really was our baby. I turned toward her sleeping body and placed my hand on her back.

I paid close attention to how her diaphragm moved up and down along with the sounds of her breathing. I traced my finger along her body. Hills and valleys had transformed her landscape. She was forever changed, for better or for worse, I don't know. I felt the slow beat of her heart, and thank God that she was still here. She had been through a lot in her 26 years of life. Her father was a raging drunk, and her mother was a timid victim of his abuse. Her parents were often distracted, and Irene swore that she would be better parents than her own.

Since we've been married, we've been trying to bring a child into our life. I got her pregnant within the first few months. We eagerly watched the fetus grow from a clump of cells into something that vaguely resembles a human. But the growth stopped, and Irene's body, released a premature failure. The second time around, our child grew into an identifiable boy who we named Toby. Toby didn't last much longer inside what doctors described as a hostile womb. After the second failed pregnancy, we sought help from fertility experts, who said the problem lies within Irene's uterus. Evidently, the uterine lining is too thin to properly sustain a fetus.

It seems as though I would never get the opportunity to prove to her that I'd be a good mother. My thoughts were interjected by the cries of a baby. I nudged Irene in a panic, and she stirred out of her sleep. Do you hear that? I whispered with my eyes wide. Irene sighed. Yeah, it's the baby. What baby?

I responded. Irene shot me a dirty look and walked across the hall. The wailing stopped, and in came Irene holding the doll. "'This baby, our baby,' she hissed. The doll's arms flailed around as Eileen softly hummed to it, rhythmically bouncing back and forth to the tune. In response, the thing cooed at Irene until it settled and seemingly drifted to sleep once more. My mind raced.

I became hypervigilant as Irene casually returned the thing to the nursery, and then laid back down in our bed. The next day, I robotically moved through the motions of my job, clouded by last night's events. Every rational thought inside of my head irked me at this could not be possible. I was dreaming. Everything seemed like a bad dream. I quickly came to the realization that, in fact, none of this was a dream, no matter how

much I prayed it was. I clocked out and returned to the House of Horrors. As soon as I stepped into the front door, I was greeted by what I had feared most. My smiling wife, with a baby bouncing on her hip. Irene was busy in the kitchen, giving the last touches to our meal. The dinner table was set and I took my place as she put my dinner in front of me. I wasn't hungry. How could I be?

I stared at Irene, begging her with my eyes to give some sort of rational explanation. The baby cooed at me. It was wearing a purple dress with pockets that I specially picked out for Lucy. I wondered if this was Irene's way of brainwashing me into accepting the child. I wanted a baby for sure. But not under these circumstances. It was too weird. Irene must have sensed how freaked out I was because she began to talk.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I failed you and this family. There is something dark and twisted about my body that has made it so we couldn't have a baby the traditional way. I am so sorry. I love you, and I don't want to fail you. So I did some research, and I found someone that could still give you what we want. A baby. And here she is.

Irene paused from her speech to pinch the baby's cheeks. She had a giant smile on her face that stretched from ear to ear. I noticed that she had a little bit of makeup on because as her eyes pulled with water and spilled down her cheeks black lines appeared contrasting her rosy complexion she resumed I made a deal with this guy and he gave me a baby in turn for

for what I blurted out for my soul she said so softly as if it was a secret only meant to be kept between herself and the entity I looked at her puzzled. Was this for real? What do you mean? I said hesitantly.

I guess I said the wrong thing, because in response, Irene jumped out of her seat crying. She said I wouldn't understand that I couldn't understand. She was right. I couldn't understand her now that she was hysterical and barely pronouncing her words between her whales.

She stormed off, grabbed her keys, and leaped out of the house. I looked at the baby who was looking back at me, and I listened to Irene's SUV skirt out of the driveway. I sat glued to my seat frozen in a state of shock and confusion. She sold her soul. What?

A soul in exchange for a baby? How peculiar. Regardless of how Irene acquired the baby. The baby and I now sat at the table in an empty house, blanketed in silence. I listened to our leaky kitchen sink and the soft pattering of the rain tapping on the windows. The baby and I made eye contact again, and upon doing so, the kid burst out into an inconsolable fit. I took action and scooped the baby up in my arms holding it securely against my chest. It was the first time in forever that I held a human pupae in all of its glory.

Its nose dripped of snot that went down and around its mouth. Its lips were wide open and screaming, exposing toothless gums. Its face was so soft, toned to the color of roses, as tears streamed down its face like a ruthless river. I looked into its eyes. They were blue

and pleading at me to provide protection and comfort. I did so, and held the baby tighter, rocking back and forth and humming the same tune Irene had sung last night. Just like before

the baby calmed down and I realized what its problem was. A foul smell coming from its back end. Lovely. Although it was not my child, someone had to look after it in Irene's absence. I didn't know what to do. Do I feed it and then change it? Should I change it and then feed it? Does it need to be fed? I scanned the kitchen counter for instructions, a baby manual maybe, but found nothing. I was all on my own and wishing for Irene to come home.

I had cleaned, clothed, fed, and put the baby to rest all by myself before Irene finally returned home. She walked into a quiet house that was tidied and wrapped up in serene darkness. The lights were off, dishes washed, and the baby sleeping in her nursery. Irene found me already half a sleep in bed. I'm sorry, she whispered. It's okay, I said. I opened my arms to her and she fell asleep there. I think we were both too tired to continue from where we had left off. There was an unspoken understanding that neither of us wanted to disturb the tranquility

that failed us. Our healing embrace made me feel whole. I no longer cared where Lucy came from or how Irene acquired her. I was just happy that they were both here. Our moment of peace was broken by our daughter's cries. I squeezed Irene tighter. One of us would have to take the L and tend to the baby. To make a point, I slid out from under the covers and retrieved the fussy baby. I held my daughter in my arms, rhythmically bouncing to the same tune we had all heard twice before. Through the darkness, I could see the same sparkling green eyes gleaming up at me from Irene's smiling face. It's been a while now that our little family is whole. Winter came and went, and I'm looking down at Lucy wearing her purple dress on an airy spring day.

Lucy is bigger now, and we are happier. The sun's rays beat down onto Irene's face, causing her to sweat, which makes her cheekbones shine and her cheeks flush. My hand is around her waist, and her hand is clutched onto Lucy's stroller, and together we stroll along. There's a popular walkway that runs along a canal in town that Irene and I would frequent during those days we exercised. Since we've found the light at the end of the tunnel, we re-adopted our habits and take Lucy here regularly. Usually, Irene and I jog, taking turns pushing the stroller along the paved path. I snapped, too, upon hearing a familiar voice, approach me. "'Hey, Robbie and Irene, I haven't seen you all in a while. How have you been?'

My co-worker approached me smiling ear to ear with his own wife and kid in tow. His family had crossed paths with mine, and now here we stood. His eyes bounced back and forth between me and my wife and then down at Lucy. I watched his expression fall flat, and his eyes returned to mine, who stood before him like a deer in headlights. You raised an eyebrow and asked, why are you guys walking a baby doll? For more information, including pictures and videos of the stories told on this podcast,

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