Creepy - In The Walls

Episode Date: November 12, 2018

Sometimes, that feeling you are being watched is right...***Guest narration by Nate Dufort***Pre-order copies of "The Hate Home" at https://www.inkshares.com/books/the-hate-home***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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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 In the Walls

narrated by Nate DeFort. He moved out of our last house a week ago. and I'm glad we did. It was definitely not safe there, especially for a man like me who has a young family to take care of. I think if I hadn't decided to get the hell out of there, I would have failed my family, and I probably would have lost them too, eventually. There was nothing obviously wrong with the house, actually. I suppose it was just a regular detached family home in a suburban neighborhood.

but I think the first thing that struck me is off about it is the fact that all the houses on that street had been built sometime in the 1980s. The odd bit about that is the fact that nobody had actually lived there. In almost three and a half decades, nobody had ever lived in that house. But what could be wrong with that? Didn't ring any alarm bells apart from the normal sort, like, does the electricity still work?

and is the boiler outdated? On top of that, we had to check if there were any pests or squatters. Nope, nothing there. The house was well built and hadn't let anything in. So it seemed, at least. Once we were settled in, we were actually very happy there. I think, although I find it hard to believe now, we wanted the house to be our home for a good long time.

Bizarrely, it just felt so perfect and right when actually there was something very deeply inherently wrong about the place. The tension began on one typical gray London morning. My wife was going to drop off our four-year-old boy at school, which usually takes about half an hour. It was the oddest thing. As soon as she shut the door behind her and I was alone, I became aware of a feeling that I hadn't felt before.

You could describe it as a feeling of being watched, but I think it was something else. A feeling of tension and discomfort arising from, well, nothing. Nothing at all happened. No creaks, no bumps, no whispers? I had the heating on. It was December, and was listening to Classic FM on the radio. On first inspection, it appeared to be a comfortable, peaceful environment. I deal for sitting down and getting on with my work.

But it wasn't. I felt sort of agitated. I supposed it was just down to this being a new house that had only been slept in a few nights, and I got on with my work. Except I didn't. I couldn't settle down and concentrate. I found myself wandering around the house, walking slowly around every room. There were a few boxes of things that still needed to be.

be unpacked and some rooms that were still quite bare. I refused to accept it, but a tiny part of my subconscious expected that there was an intruder in the house. I was in the room farthest away from my study, so I could just about hear box cello suite or whatever the heck it was playing upstairs. I stayed at the window waiting for my wife to turn up in her car. It was incredible how quickly the mood shifted as soon as my wife stepped into the house. soon as I was no longer alone.

The uncomfortable feeling lifted and I could actually feel the warmth of the central heating, and my tea with a tablespoon of honey in it actually tasted sweet. Even the rain clouds which had started to drizzle outside seemed friendlier. The next morning I did the school run, just as a little experiment. I was driving when I got a call from my wife. I don't think she wanted anything in particular. apart from some company. Her tone was very casual.

It almost sounded forced. And she was only asking when I would be back, but in a prolonged way, as if she wanted to keep the call as long as possible. I had some idea why she was calling. She was getting the feeling, too. She probably felt it more because women are more tuned to those subtleties at an environment.

She didn't mention anything when I returned regarding the feeling. but through her smile, I could see that she was a tiny bit spooked. To be honest, it was nothing really, just a feeling that people get sometimes. The only odd things about it were that it happened when we were alone, and that it happened to both of us. Well, still, some places are just like that. A house that hasn't been lived in for decades might take time to warm to its new owners, I guess. The next day while my wife was out getting the groceries, I made a little discovery.

The strange feeling grew more intense in certain parts of the house. In the upstairs bathroom it was particularly strong and there was a corridor that connected the dining room and living room where it was also quite noticeable. The thing about these places is that they were the only parts of the house with mirrors in them. With time, I came to hate those parts of the house, and to those mirrors. Nothing new happened for about a week. I just avoided being in the house by myself, and I noticed my wife did the same, although we never discussed the fact that we felt uncomfortable being alone. It was a new house. We didn't want to spoil our first days there with negativity. But a certain

negativity hung about the place nevertheless. It was not obvious. It was not intense, but it was always there. It felt somewhat hostile as if we were sharing the home with something, something that didn't like us being around. I read up online, while my wife wasn't looking, that some places just have what they call negative energy. Apparently this is the result of many things such as poor lighting, bad feng shui, and bad things that have happened in the past in the place. Ironically, we installed brand new high-powered light bulbs. My wife had a whole book on keeping good feng shui.

And as for the whole bad things happening in the past thing, nobody had ever lived in our house before. I mean, how could anything bad have happened there if nobody lived there before? At least our little boy didn't seem affected. He was playing just as happily as ever with his toys. A work overloaded preoccupied me and his mother lately, so we didn't spend as much time with him as usual. He didn't seem to mind.

He even managed to invent an imaginary friend to play with. There was this one night, however, when I came home from work late to find my son in bed, and my wife waiting for me in the living room. As soon as I came through the front door, I was greeted with a thick, heavy presence. It gave me a bad feeling immediately. I knew at once that something was not right.

And yet, everything seemed fine. We ate dinner in front of the television, washed up, and then got ready for bed. We both joined our son upstairs to sleep, and soon enough, we had both dozed off. Except, I was suddenly disturbed from my sleep. It was nothing unnatural, in fact, it was the very cold. of nature that woke me up. I needed to use the loo. I got up and put on my slifferes in nightgown. It was absolutely freezing being a winter's night. But when I stepped into the bathroom, I was shocked by how cold it was. It was not safe. How chilly it wasn't there. I looked at

myself in the mirror for a bit, then sat on the toilet seat to do my business. I was giving me a bad feeling. I kept imagining that I could see something moving around. in the mirror and yet there was nobody else in the room but me not even a fly or a bug it happened at least three times then I got up washed my hands and just stared into the mirror for a while just to make sure it eventually made me uneasy so I hurried back to bed and actually found myself hiding my face with the duvet I think I saw something moving in the mirror again the next night I think I even saw a face in the downstairs hallway mirror as I walked past for a split second.

I knew it was only my imagination, definitely just a side effect of all the negative energy in the place. It was getting more irritating than frightening, so I decided to ring up one of those priests, those spiritual sorts who know how to brighten up places with negative energy in them. She turned up while our son was at school, a frail old Japanese woman who had a frail old Japanese woman who must have been 80 years old at least. Her son dropped her off since she was very weak and unable to walk the distance. Anyway, she came in smiling faintly and telling us in broken English that she would just take a walk around the house to get used to it.

I and my wife sat quietly in the living room. Personally, I don't think she was all too happy about the house being checked out by what she referred to as an exorcist. I showed her the web pages about clearing negative energy and she agreed with a sigh. After all, it was good feng shui to have your house cleared. The spiritual woman came downstairs after about ten minutes. In spite of how bony and old she was, she made the place feel very secure and comfortable. I almost wanted her to stay with us so that we could be assured that we have no negative energy.

But something happened that made us wonder if it was negative energies making our house the way it was. Anyway, she came into the living room and told us that she had burnt incense in some of the rooms and that she was going to go over the rooms again, just to clear out any remaining negativity. Then she suddenly went stiff, and her quivering smile became a screwed-up scowl and her watery eyes hardened. We thought she was having a stroke and reached for the telephone to call an ambulance. It turns out she was fine. She told us not to touch anything or we listened and watched, dumbfounded, as she rushed to the wall with an impressive speed and pressed her ear against it.

She whispered some words, which we couldn't hear, and she seemed to be receiving a reply as her expression changed and contorted. Whatever she was hearing can't have been good because she gave a shriek and sprang away from the wall. The room darkened noticeably like when a cloud covers the sun. You know live this house! The old woman grabbed my wife by the shoulders and shook her firmly as she said this. Why not? I asked, as my wife was too taken aback to reply. Man in the walls, she shrieked. There is man live in the walls. Bad man. Man in the walls! The old woman hurried through the hallway and, without even putting her shoes on, stepped outside the house, and urged

us to come with her. She called her son to pick her up on a little Nokia phone and refused to step back inside, even though she needed to sit down because of her frailty. I brought a chair outside for her and brought her shoes out too. We waited with her outside, and I can swear that when I went inside to fetch the chair, I was not the only one in that house. I cursed the old woman for making me so nervous. I was hearing whispers all over the house now. Her son picked her up. When he saw her in a nervous state, he gave me and my wife an unfriendly look before driving away. Who would have got mad at each other had it not been for what the old woman had said.

It was chilling to hear that, and the look of terror on the old woman's face convinced us that she was serious. But, being modern cosmopolitans, we just agreed after some conversation that she was doing that to frighten us or that she was just old and baddy. We didn't want to believe her bullshit, but the phrase stuck with me, walls. I even admit I put my ear to the wall to see if I could hear anything or uneasy now than we'd been before the spiritual had come. The tension gathered all day until, at bedtime, and the house felt unnaturally dark. As I was slipping into bed, relieved that the day was over.

A cry from my wife got me out of bed. She rushed into the bedroom with a look of utter whore on her face. Man in the mirror, she screamed. Man, man in the mirror! I had enough sense to realize that she was not talking about the Michael Jackson hit. She was genuinely terrified. Where? Bathroom, I saw it, I tell you.

I believe you. I believe you. I had to believe her. I stormed to the bathroom and looked into the mirror. It was just... a normal reflection. There was nothing there. I stood there for a while. Then... Man in the wall? Tell me, is there a man in the wall? No, no, there isn't. My wife comforted me. It was my imagination, I'll bet you. It's just that damned old woman coming in here and telling us all

this mumbo-jumbo about men in the walls, it's nothing, nothing at all. Then what the hell have I been seeing? This place, it feels just wrong. Oh, nothing. Don't worry. There's nothing here. There can't be. Let's just get some sleep.

That's what you need. Sleep. I was too tired to carry on with this. I forced myself to believe that there was nothing funny going on. I didn't convince myself. We went to bed and I was about to turn out the last. light when my wife told me something that made me shudder. You know Daniel, our son, has been saying some weird things lately, she said.

Like what? Well, it might just be a coincidence, but what that old woman said about a man in the walls, it seems to fit with something that Daniel's been talking about. Oh, really? Do you know anything about his imaginary friend? I chuckled. Well, I know that Daniel spends an awful lot of time with it. What does he call it again?

Wallman. Oh, yeah, oh. I realized just then the creepy connection. Wallman. Daniel's been saying things about his friend. He told me the other day that he's got a round face with black eyes and a big smile, and he's really thin so he can fit in the wall. I found it cute at the time, but now I don't know.

I got the biggest chill I'd had in a long time. Well, there's more. We were in the park, just me and him. Nobody else was there. I asked him if he wanted to invite Wallman for a picnic. He said he couldn't. He told me that Wallman is only in our house and never leaves. That one made me laugh a bit when he told me it, but then he gave me the same.

serious, worried look and said, Don't laugh, Mommy. Walman doesn't like you and daddy. He hates you. He says he only likes me. I shuddered and took a deep breath. The air suddenly felt colder and more. Hostile.

You know, I said to my wife, after a period of silence. I really do think we should move out. I don't know if it's just a bad. feeling I get about this place or if maybe that old Japanese woman was right. This stuff is creeping me the hell out. I don't think I can sleep now. I don't feel safe. Nevertheless, we both managed to sleep after a bit more conversation on where we could move

to. I had dreams. They were mostly just plain, random dreams, but... One thing stuck out as different. I dreamt I came home to find the house empty. I called to see if anyone was home and turned on a few lights. I noticed very vividly that there was somebody standing in the living room. It was a man's figure, very lean and about the height of a child.

He was facing away from me, I could tell, but the light wouldn't turn on in that room, so I couldn't see any more. I think he was naked. In my dream I called out, Daniel? But I felt certain that this was not my son. I was scared of this figure in the living room. The dream ended there and I woke up. I blamed all the weird events they were affecting my sleep.

I managed to get some more shut-eye after that. No dreams this time. It was a Saturday next morning, so we had a bit of a lie in. I'm getting the kettle on. How many sugars would you like? I asked my wife before going downstairs to the kitchen to make some tea, but as I waited for the kettle to boil, a voice caught my attention. It was Daniel.

He was raising his voice. I found him looking up at the mirror in the downstairs corridor, in a heated argument with somebody. No, if you don't say sorry, I won't be your friend anymore, he cried. Hello? Dan, you all right there, son? to him. He ignored me outright. No, no, no, no, he shrieked at whoever he was speaking to, and I saw tears on his cheek. I don't want to. You're not nice anymore. Go away, go away,

he began to screech. I don't want to go with you. I rushed along and lifted him up, carrying him away from that mirror. His mother came downstairs, roused by the shouting. What's wrong, dear? She asked him. Wallman, wall man. He wants me to go with him. In the wall. He wants to take me in the wall, but I told him I don't want to. Oh, God, I muttered handing him to my wife, my voice shaking. I can't put up with this bullshit any longer. Wallman! Where the heck are you?

Come up, you bastard! I had never spoken in front of my son like that before, but he didn't seem unsettled. He seemed glad that I was angry at his imaginary friend. My wife took him upstairs while I raged on for a bit. Right, I said when my wife came back downstairs, We've got to get rid of these goddamn mirrors. They're creeping the shit out of me. It's fine.

It's okay. No, it's not fine. It can't be fine. It's like their portals or something. Like there's evil coming straight out of them or crazy shit like that. Okay, okay. We need to stay calm, she assured me. Let's just get breakfast sorted and we'll see how things go.

We had breakfast in silence and after a while it all seemed okay. And then something happened that was. amazing. Nothing. Nothing at all. There wasn't even a weird feeling of anxiety anymore. It felt like a normal home should. Weirder still, the next day was fine too, and nothing dodgy took place overnight. We kept the mirrors. I hadn't been entirely serious about throwing them out. I had just been stressed out. Then a whole week went by and it It was Sunday again, without a single weird thing happening. Our house was beginning to, at last, feel like a home.

We had less work, so we spent more time with Daniel, and he seemed to forget about his imaginary friend, which was actually a relief to us. That imaginary friend had seemed like something else. It seemed wrong to be coming from the imagination of a four-year-old. We thought everything was going to be fine, but then... Something made us think twice. Yellow mold had started to grow in circular patches around the house. The patches were about the size of footballs, and they gave off a rotten smell.

We decided to leave it for a while, but the patches turned up suddenly in more places, and they were too ugly and stinky to stay. We called in a man to investigate and sort out the mold problem, and while he worked, the three of us paid a visit to my parents-in-law. We had a call from the man dealing with the mold at about 8 o'clock in the evening. He sounded troubled and told us to come home quickly. We were very agitated throughout the car journey, and when we saw policemen standing around our home, my wife looked as though she would cry.

A tall, fat policeman stopped us in our tracks, and we made our way towards the front door. Stop right there, sir, he said. I highly doubt that you and especially your wife will want to see what's been found in your home. You ain't suspected, don't be afraid, but I tell you, mate, it's ghastly. He took off his hat and breathed out with disgust. Mommy, Daddy, what's happening? Daniel kept asking, but we just let him back to the car. I went back to the policeman, and the inspector came and told me I could come in. I went and to find that where the patches of mold had been, there were holes in the wall.

Men in uniform and masks were carrying small objects and plastic bags out of the house. The mold specialist was sitting down with a cup of coffee on the sofa. His head in one hand. He seemed deeply troubled. I looked at him for a while and thought it might be better not to ask him what had happened, but I didn't need to. You ain't seen what you've had in your walls yet, he asked me, his eyes bloodshot. I never done a job like this one.

Bloody shocking. What was in my walls? I asked. My voice shaking. Tell me, please, I can't bear it anymore. Can't tell you myself, mate. Bloody shocking. Suddenly, the world around me became a blur and I collapsed on the ground. I came to at my parents-in-law,

again. Had that all been a dream? No. It was now two in the morning. My son and my wife were upstairs. They told me an inspector was waiting to speak to me. What happened, Inspector? What was there in my house? I asked as patiently as I could. Now don't take this the wrong way, sir. We're not accusing you of anything. The things we found date back at least a decade, judging by the state therein. What did you find? Then I was told once I had promised to remain calm that behind each of the 16 patches of mold, the bones of a small child had been found, curled up inside the walls. The children were all between the ages of two and five, and were recognized as children that had gone missing in the area over the past 30 years or so.

Now hearing that shook me as much as it would shake anybody in my position. There was something else in the walls of that house, something evil, and had things happened differently. It might have taken my son into the wall like all those other children. I and my wife still haven't gotten over our experiences in that house, although our son seems to be indifferent to the whole thing. He never got told about the children, the walls, and hopefully he'll never ask so we won't have to tell him.

He never mentions his imaginary friend, Wallman, and he seems happy enough at our new home as do all of us. I don't want to tempt fate or anything, but our new place seems just right. Nothing weird going on here. But one thing bugs me, and I don't think it'll ever stop bugging me as long as you. I live. I still don't know what the heck it was in our house. I refer to it as wall man because the name makes it seem less frightening, but I can't get over the fact that I have actually had contact with a paranormal entity. I'm guessing it's still there in that building. Fat chance

anybody wants to buy that house now after the discovery made the local headlines. There's one more thing. A few days after he made his dreadful discovery, the mold specialist arranged to meet me at my workplace. He seemed deeply disturbed and told me he had something dead strange to show me. It was a picture he'd taken on his mobile phone on the day he had been at our house. It was a picture of the mirror in the corridor, although the quality was a little grainy. A face could be seen very clearly in the mirror. It just popped up in the bottom corner of the mirror, a white face with a wide, thin-lipped mouth,

and large black eyes. It had very clean, neat teeth. It didn't appear to have a nose or any hair, but perhaps it was just because of the quality of the image. It was grinning broadly, and its eyes were wide open. The picture was taken from an angle so that the photographer could not. be seen, only the face in the rest of the room. But what scared me most about the face was the fact that it was there. It was actually photographic evidence of something paranormal that had been in our home all that time. Saw the bastard in the mirror and I didn't know what the bloody heck it was.

So I snapped a shot and ran out of the bloody house, the man explained to me. He seemed shaken. I'm not sure why he showed that to me. Perhaps he was frightened and just wanted to get it off his chest. Perhaps it was just fascinating or incredible to him. I don't care really because now that I've seen that photographic evidence, I won't stop thinking about it. I never truly actually believed in the paranormal until then, but now I'm open-minded. I say my prayers before going to bed every night. I've started being superstitious and avoiding creepy places and walking under ladder

and everything. I only have one mirror in my house now, in the bathroom, and I avoid it like the plague, not to mention that I practice methods designed to keep my home free of negative energies. My wife likes that. After all, it is good feng shui. And sometimes, only sometimes, when I'm alone at home and it is quiet, I press my ear to the wall and listen carefully. Then I look into my mirror. for a while just to make sure there isn't anything else there. Perhaps you should give it a go too. After all, some houses are strange and some houses have been there for a long time. With enough time, I think things come into existence in empty places that shouldn't be allowed to exist. You may find that those walls that protect you from the elements every day are in fact

home to something that you might need protection from. And as for mirrors, I guess they are like doors into the wall. They show you not only what's behind you, but what's behind them. Trust me. If you see any strange faces in the mirror, there is a possibility there could be something in your walls. I'm afraid? My advice?

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