Creepy - It Came Up The Stairs

Episode Date: August 30, 2021

Mind the stairs...***Written by Sean Roberson***Bonus episode: "One of Our Cattle Started Biting" written by Dylan Skeldrum***Content warning: animal mutilation***Check out our reward tiers at patreon.com/creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/creepypod***Sound Design by Pacific Obadiah***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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please check out the donation tiers at patreon.com slash creepypod. Now, 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 not simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. Creepy Presents. It came up the stairs.

Written by Sean Robertson. My name is Damon Langston, and I'm here because, well, I don't know what to do anymore. There's something tormenting me every night in my apartment complex. I don't know what to do. I'm too afraid to try and confront it. My friends, well, friend, doesn't believe me. And I think, I know it's killing. I'm terrified, and I don't think I have much time left.

That's why I'm here, I guess, to send off a final message to everyone online so that at least someone will know what happened to me. Let me start from the beginning, the very beginning. I used to live in a rural mountain town in Montana. The exact location isn't important because I'm more than confident that no one would know it. It was that small. I think the size of an average high school graduation and cut it in half. And then half again.

That was my town's population. It was nice enough, but I'm not much of a people person who would much rather be alone than in big crowds. With that being said, I was tired of the small town life, seeing the same judging looks every day, hearing the same, Good morning, Damon, from the elderly people, and doing the same pointless farm work.

I wanted more. So I did the only thing a reckless who hates people would do. I moved to a really big city. Now, hear me out. I know that seems stupid. But you've got to understand. In a big city, no one knows you. No one cares to know you.

And no one will bat an eye at the things you do, or rather don't do. I'd prefer being a ghost in a foreign land than be known by every other. everyone from the age of 5 to 95. As soon as I turned 21, I left Montana and moved to Arizona. Another drastic change in climate if you catch my drift. It was hard leaving my family. But they understood, and I had no inclination of ever leaving their home that had been in the family for years. They wanted what was best for me and wished me off with love and affection.

I would lie if I said I didn't cry. But it was time for new things. and the city was as new as it could get for me. I also had never been here before my move, so I was really going off into an unknown future. Luckily, I found an extremely nice apartment complex with a gated community. Three great pools. Not that I would ever go out there because all the frat college teens

and annoying squealing children. The neighbors were spaced out perfectly. Thick walls, too, so you couldn't hear anyone on any side of you. And best of all, a room on the top of you. floor. The apartment itself was a two-bedroom, one bath with no master bath. They did beautifully spacious rooms that allowed for a lot of storage or hobbies. Best of all was the open kitchen living room plan where I could set up my massive TV, all my consoles, extra comfortable couch, and my PC, with plenty more space for whatever other comforts I may need. That means being

able to stay tuned in all my favorite shows while cooking and doing chores. A dream come true for some, even better than all that was a great price, a steel, really. That's something else I should mention here so you can know more about me. Money's never really been an issue for me. You see, even though I worked on a farm back in Montana, I worked at a really young age and made a lot of money selling produce and such to dumb tourists who would pay anything in the world for organic food straight from the pig shit and ground.

People would literally sell a kidney just so their food was organic. and honestly, I don't get it. But who am I to judge off my frozen dinners? Anyway, I had a lot saved up, and that set me up extremely nicely. Less fortunately, though, I got into an accident as a tween. Rather, I didn't get into an accident while in high school. Rather, some rich asshole driving through a small town who was going too fast because he swore it was abandoned and slammed their fire truck red corvette into my friend's shitty Subaru.

They had extremely good insurance, and with being such a small town, he figured he could just pay off me, my family, and my friend's family for the little mishap, as he put it. I didn't have any real say in the matter because I was in the hospital for weeks after that was several broken bones and fractures throughout my body and being in a cast for a super long time. My friend had it worse, though. He had his arm in the window while driving during the accident, and let's just say they never found it again.

because of how far launched into the fields. He's doing fine now. However, our friendship ended shortly after that, leaving me, once again, with only my family, myself, and my only best friend in the world. I know what you're thinking right now. You hope that fucker burn for what he did and got yours in jail, right?

Maybe even burned at the stake for some Montana cult shit. Nope. He had a lot of money. Like a lot. It was enough to pay for my hospital visit and my friends with enough to pay for our college. If we ever decided to go, I didn't. 20 times over again. That money really helped my family but solidified my hatred for people.

Not my family, of course. I get it. It was a lot of money, and it really helped them out and me in the long run, but still. So I didn't need a job when I moved. My rent is basically covered for as long as I'm here, which at this point, may not be too much longer. With me not working, I was free to my own devices and not being a people person means a lot of time alone with myself, which again is totally fine with me.

It let me catch up on my favorite hobbies of only shopping for collectibles, browsing eBay, binging the latest and greatest that all the streaming services have to offer, catching up on the latest tunes, writing, reading the classics and the Reddit stories, and of course gaming. I am a hardcore gamer. and the biggest night owl ever. If I didn't know for a fact that I have a heartbeat, I'd have been considered a vampire. Another reason I can't go to the pool because it's closed at night.

In other words, I stay up all night and sleep during the day. If that wasn't clear enough. I'm cool with staying up all night too because the Wi-Fi is better. You get to see a lot of interesting things and characters at night from the comfort of your own home and it's peaceful at night. Or at least it was peaceful at night. My nights of gaming and indulging in hobbies was interrupted by something. Something I can't explain.

Something that no one I know can explain. You see, recently, about a few weeks ago, something has been climbing up my stairs late at night. No, it's not a cat. Whatever it is big. Massive, even. The first time it happened, I figured it was nothing. Just my next-door college neighbor coming home late again from another late night of partying.

That has happened before. and one time he even came and knocked on my door thinking it was his and couldn't figure out why his key didn't work. Obviously, I nearly shit my pants when that first happened, but I yelled through the door, Wrong apartment! Twitchy looked puzzled at the number, smiled at the keyhole and slurred through his drunken haze.

Sorry, bro. You're the best. Come on with me next time. I'll get you fucked up. And he slammed his hand on my door one last time and stumbled back to the correct door. He never apologized when he was sober, nor invited me out in case you were wondering. Not like I would have accepted that anyway, but it's the principle.

Anyway, I figured it was just him again, and praying to God he wouldn't repeat knocking on my door. Luckily, all I heard was the banging coming up the stairs, loud and boisterous, and then silence. The weird thing was I didn't hear a door open nor close after the ascension, but I did brush it off and went back to whatever I was doing at the time. The night after that it happened again. Then again. The guy living across from me partied a lot, I knew. But he'd never done two nights in a row before. Needless to say, my curiosity was piqued.

I waited for the steps to stop stomping before I made my way to the peephole to my front door. Strangely, there was nothing. The person I thought it was was nowhere in sight, and not trying to fumble with his keys to unlock his door. I thought this was strange once again and remembered looking at the time. He read 125 a.m. Maybe he wasn't drunk that night? Just pissed off and rushed inside his place after running up the stairs.

I wasn't quite sure and quickly forgot as I booted up my gaming PC and loaded GTA5 for another game streak. The fifth night in a row is when things got interesting. And by interesting, I mean fucking terrifying. I was bored and in a weird mood, so I was just mindlessly scrolling through social media and memes on my phone. when I heard the roaring steps up the stairs once again. My timer at 1.23 a.m. I quickly and without hesitation rushed towards my door and look through the peep-pole. The light outside mine and my neighbor's doors were flickering so fearlessly that it made it almost impossible to see what was going on.

Almost. Sometimes I wish it would have made it completely impossible. Through the bright flashing lights, I saw something slowly making its way up to steps and towards my landing. It was a large hunched over black mass that was shrouded in darkness. It seemed as if it were wearing a cape that was the darkness incarnate. No light could highlight its features from its head down to his legs. I say legs instead of feet because you could see the feet. Those foul and disgusting feet.

They weren't human to say the least. Instead they looked like supersized horse hooves that were transformed into wood. Like a tree had a bastard child with a horse and this was its own. offspring. The long trunk-like legs were clearly what was making the loud noises that marched up each step with great precision. There was something else that one could distinguish from it too as it got higher up the stairs. All it could be seen of its facial features from this distance were its piercing violet eyes. They had no pupils, or white or black or anything. They were just a radiant violet that stared blankly in front of itself as it moved higher and higher. As I stared in disbelief, it was

what I was seeing. I could make out a new noise that I didn't remember before. The creature moaned, or rather hummed as it took its powerful steps. It seemed like it was in pain with what it was doing, but strangely it seemed that it liked it too. The mixture of pain and pleasure just made this thing even more unnatural. I kept watching in horror as it made its way all the way to the final step and put its massive feet down the third floor landing. It paused momentarily, staring straight forward. humming all the while a haunting melody. The light still flickering all around its shadowy form. Then it started moving again, silently to its open breezeway between mine and my neighbor's apartments.

Like I said, it moved silently down the corridor. The prior noise it made up the stairs were non-existent. Then, just as quickly as it had come, it was gone. The lights too were fixed and lit how there should be on a normal night. Even after it left my line of sight from the peephole. I was still glued to the spot, unable to break my gaze at what I'd just witnessed. My mind was racing with a million questions. My heart racing like I just ran a marathon.

And my is blinking spasticly as if it had been a trick of my mind. When I finally regained some sense of composure, I did what any sensible person would do. I made damn sure the door it was locked. Grabbed the biggest piece of furniture I could find and blocked my front door. And then grabbed the second biggest piece of furniture I had and locked myself. in my bedroom with it. I knew I couldn't call the cops. What were they going to do? Tell me I'm crazy and I should go back to bed? No way. Besides, what would they do anyway? As far as I could tell, it disappeared into oblivion. I decided to call the only person I could think of, and my only

friend, Jared. When I picked up my phone to dial his number, I noticed the time. 1.30. Jared and I's relationship is a long one that goes way back. We've been friends since I was a wee lad back in Montana. He was my closest friend and, well, my only friend that stuck with me through everything. It wasn't that I wasn't popular, but, as I've said before, I'm not a people person. And all the friends I made through the years either got sick of me or I of them. However, he broke through my heart exterior and made me gain some faith in people. for some reason we stuck together since then and have never been more thankful for another human being making contact with me in my life especially now he helped me with a lot of the firsts and had always had my back through thick and thin so of course i would go to him with this problem and see what he could do the thing about jared too is that he is not like me in other words he's like everyone else he doesn't stay up past the witching hour during the work we

nor sleeps all day like some vampire wannabe. It's crazy that we've stayed friends this long into our late lives, when we only talk for maybe a few hours to a few minutes a day, longer on the weekends, I guess. And that's when we'd be able to game together, which I always looked forward to. So I knew damn well that me calling him at this time and I would get no answer, but I could at least convey how terrified I am with what I just witnessed.

The phone rang and rang and rang until finally his voicemail began. Hi, you've reached Jared. I can't come to the phone right now because I'm probably sleeping, working, or being a social butterfly, and not glued to my phone, you sheep. Anyways, please leave a message at the tone, and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Unless you're a scam. Like, seriously, why robocalls? Jared, I'm freaking out, man. I need your help.

There's something fucking outside of my apartment. I just saw I walk by, and I'm scared out of my mind. I don't know what to do and barricaded myself in my room, and I don't think it can get in, but I'm not taking any chances. Please help me. I cried into the phone, speaking without taking a breath. Click. I actually stared at my phone hoping that some miracle would happen.

It'd be up and call me back, but he wasn't. I stared at my dresser that had been shifted to make a barricade for the door and waited for something, anything to happen. I've seen enough horror movies and read enough stories to know that this was a little. the moment something bad would happen. I would hear a loud crash of the first defense being torn down and then banging on my last hope until the monster were coming and ripped me to bloody shreds and tiny pieces so the police would have no clue who I was and chalked it up to a freak bear attack in the big city.

But that never happened. There was no dramatic climax of that night that led to my demise. Instead, it was quiet. The quiet was so much worse, though, because that meant it could be anywhere in the complex and I'd have no idea. I must have passed out sometime that night because I woke up around noon with the rays of light from the sun breaking in through my curtains. I'm never awake at that time and normally I always have my blackout curtains drawn to avoid this. But adrenaline must have overtaken me.

I was still exhausted at that time and felt like shit for sleeping all night when I'm normally awake. My mind immediately raised back to the events of the last night and my body stiffened up even tighter than it was. That thing. I go from my phone into eight voicemails and 21 missed calls from Jared. I called them back without listening to the messages and he answered after a few rings. Dude, what the fuck's going on? Are you okay? I'm at work right now so I can't talk for long. But your calls are freaking the fuck out this morning.

And what are you doing up? This is like your midnight. I don't know what's going on, but I'm freaking out. There's something wrong with this place and tormenting me. It's a monster. I wailed at him through the. iPhone. He sighed. I'm sorry. A monster?

I could hear sarcasm and speculation in his voice. Yes, a monster or some denizen of the night. I saw it this time. It's what's been making all the racket I've told you about. I've always assumed as my imagination or neighbor or freak raccoon. But this time, I saw the fucker. He sighed again, louder and more drawn out. this time. Okay. Hey, I gotta get back to work and the real world. I'm glad you're okay and weren't killed or whatever, but I think you're just watching and reading too many horror stories and

should lay off. Watch some cooking shows or some David Attenborough documentary. Also, get some sleep, man. I'll call you tonight and check in on you. Click, and that was it. He hung up on me. My jaw was on the floor with what he said. He didn't believe me. My best friend in the whole world didn't even believe me. I was filled with an awful cocktail of anger, hurt, despair, and fear. A drink that did not go down well. With that, I threw my phone on my bed and watched it bounce one big time and hit the floor with a loud thump. I then began tearing down my makeshift wall of self-defense and made my way to the kitchen. All I wanted was some more sleep and to forget what had happened. So I did what any responsible person would do at 1215 in the middle of the day and took four ibuprofen,

two long pulls of bourbon, an emergency drink, and a melatonin. I then made my way back to my fortress of solitude, closed those curtains, and passed right back out. My cocktail of health must have worked because I didn't wake up at my normal time when the sun goes down, but instead I woke up to loud banging again at 1.18 a.m. I immediately started sweating like a madman on a hot summer's day, and even though. let out a light squeal. I slowly made my way to the front door. It was still pressed with everything imaginable, but I was able to move something away as quickly and as quietly as possible to at least

see out to people. To my surprise, there was no monster. Instead, it was my lumbering buffoon of a neighbor who must be coming back from one of his late-night benders. He took each step with a long, drawn-out step that slammed when they made contact. It was clear he was focusing on trying not to fall down, or up the stairs. He clumsily made his way to the landing and immediately expelled the contents of his evening on the floor. And of course it slithered towards my door. He and his drunken haze noticed the error of his way

and started making his way towards my door, hollering. Shit, dude, I'm so sorry. I am... I might have left a present. I swear I'll clean it up in the morning. Dude. He strenuously laughed. out trying to articulate his words in a non-slaring fashion.

Of course, he started knocking him my door, trying to get some reaction out of me when suddenly the lights started flickering again. And that same, loud, elephant-like stumps started their ascent. Except this time, I wasn't the only one witnessing it. At first he didn't pay attention and just kept screaming at me through the door in a drunken, apologetic manner. I screamed at him to turn around, swearing at him. That got a response and he slowly looked up at the light above my door flickering and strange and odd intervals.

What the fuck? He started to turn around and saw it. The creature that always faced forward was now on the landing, staring directly at him and subsequently me through my tiny spy hole. Those piercing violet eyes looking through both of us as if we were merely husks. My neighbor screamed and started pounding on my door more for a little bit of us. He was gerociously than before. His apologetic drunk demeanor now a sober, pain-stricken plea for safety.

I couldn't help with scream, too, as I watched the thing take one slow, methodical step at a time towards him. Despite how slow it was going, it broke the space between itself and my neighbor in no time. I tried pushing aside the heavy items in front of the door with one hand and they stayed glued to the hole. I knew I couldn't save him. Even if I did, we'd both just be dead. I wish now I'd just open the door and face the horror so I wouldn't have to live with what I saw next. Through the people, I saw my neighbor turn around and press his back into the door as hard as he could as the thing lumbered over to him. My neighbor started sliding down out of the sight of my field of view as the thing's eyes never left him for a second.

All the while, those lights flickering fast and faster. Finally, it was in front of my door, directly in my sight, and over my now doomed name. neighbor. Through the flickering I finally saw an outline of its face, those blackened out like a dark night with no stars. I saw a vague outline of a smile, rows and rows of sharp yellowing teeth shimmering in the flicker in light like fireflies lighting up a forest in pits of hell. In a flash those teeth opened and the lights went out as it dove for him. The screams and pleas of fear turned quickly the cries of anguish and unimaginable pain followed by squelching, ripping, squirting of the Lord knows what. Pounding against my door began to room softer and lost of all strength as the cries died down

and the ungodly eating noise picked up in volume. As quickly as it began, it was over. I was left in silence and still darkness as the feast ended. The flickering resumed that something was different. My once warped vision of the peephole was now covered in a reddish haze that made things look even more distorted than usual. I was shaking and pressing my face even harder in the door as I tried to make out something, anything, to tell me what happened, when finally, something cleaned the lens. A long, grotesque, green tongue licked the lens and cleared my line of sight as the creature finished every bit of my once drunk acquaintance. After its lick, the creature began making its way back towards the landing and down the hall

it always goes down every night. Except this time, it stopped just before it passed my field of vision and looked me dead in the eyes through the people. Those violet eyes assaulted me with malicious intent. And though it was far away, I swear I saw its smile as it lifted a short, slender, slithery arm up and waved like a princess wood at Disneyland. Then it was gone in a flicker of the lights. So this is why I'm here.

Telling this to anyone on the internet who cares or as curious as to what happened to two men in the local apartment building. I'm sure the papers will chalk it up to they just laughed or something stupid like that. But this is the truth in its brutal entirety. Those events happened last night and I know it's coming for me tonight. I put everything I own against the door except for a little narrow gap so I could see the peephole. I'm sure all those items aren't going to do any good. This thing isn't human. It isn't even from this world, I don't think, but who the fuck knows?

It doesn't matter anyway. My clock reads 123 a.m. The pounding started up again for that slow climb up to stairs. I know I can't run. I know hiding won't work. and I know the police won't get here in time even if I called them. I can see the lights flickering brighter and more ferociously now than ever before through the trim of my door as the lights raised blair through the randomly stacked furniture.

I got up to look out the people slowly and carefully as to not make a sound instead of the bright flickering lights. All I see is a bright violet. for your bonus episode Creepy Presents One of our cattle started biting Written by Dylan Skeldrum I live in a small, tight and rural community

Obviously I won't disclose exactly where But all you really need to understand is how out of the way we are Miles and miles of road winding around endless hills Burns and locks separate us from the nearest town or any brand name stores operate. My mom and dad are farmers, but in a more rustic sense. Think subsistence farming, with a little bit of good faith selling and trading with the nearest neighbors. Where we are a cell phone and internet coverage is unreliable at best, anywhere outside your home.

My aunt and uncle visit every now and then, and if I want anything, I can get it sent up here. We're not all that disconnected with modern day technology and postage. But anyway, I only told you all that to give you a little bit of context towards my situation. I feel for where we are. We have some sheep and chickens, but mostly our pride and joy have been our cows. We keep them happy, and they've plenty of space to roam and have good lives. We genuinely care about them. my dad especially

Even after 50 years of heading the farm He still hates having to slaughter any of them Big softy he is Something most people don't know about cows Is that they tend to stay in barns during the day If they have the chance And then head out to pasture at night One evening about two weeks ago

We were at the table for late dinner When we heard one of the cows crying out Loud above the usual bustle When a cow's in pain, I're especially scared, it cries out in this weird, whining scream, high-pitched. Me and my dad gave each other a look and grabbed our flashlights and ran into the field with our collie, Kira, to try and see what it was. When we reached them, the beams of our old flashlight swept across the scattered herd.

Most of them still moving and giving these scared moves. No matter how long you work on a farm, it's always unnerving to be out there at night. All those big animals with their eyes reflecting with that ghostly green glow. Quickly I spotted one among the herd. Now, with a damp red glistening wound on the neck. Me and my dad spent a little time getting close to her, but it took a while because she was understandably skittish. Finally getting a closer look, I felt a little bit more.

my heart dropped and my stomach churned when we saw it. A bite. A big one. Another thing you need to know about the cows in our area is they don't have any natural predators. Foxes are too small and the wolves and bears died off decades ago. So nothing could have or should have done this. We heard Kira growling. And turning the flashlight to her, we saw her low to the ground, bearing her teeth.

face pointed toward the far corner of the field. We turned our beams, and standing there still a stone was one of the cows. It was eerie seeing it just standing there, unmoving and staring back at us. Caught in the light, it wasn't hard to see that its lips and chin were wet with blood. My dad looked at it with his mouth partially open and eyes narrowed, placing a hand on my shoulder and stepping in front of me. It was Claribel, one of the larger of the herd who was a couple months into a pregnancy. We'd never had aggression in our animals before. Just the odd nip and shove.

She must be sick, muttered my dad before adding. Take cure inside. The words came through to me, but I felt frozen as still as that cow. She was looking dead at me, those reflective eyes, a sheer pale green that, that bored into my soul and sent chills down my spine as I watched a single red beat of blood trickle down her lips. My dad shook me softly, repeating himself a little more firmly, which woke me up from my stupor. Nodding, I tore myself away from the cow's stare and pulled the disgruntled collie away and

back up to the house. It was only on that return trip that I realized how hard my heart was racing, thumping away in my chest. Something about the whole situation felt all. off, and I hated leaving my dad alone back there. I told my mom what had happened and explained everything, leaving her as confused as me and my dad. Thankfully, it wasn't long before he came back in, announcing he had gotten her back and locked her and the bitten one, Nell, and separate pens in the barn, away from the others.

He'd call a vet and see if we could get the herd checked in case there was some kind of disease going about. Needless to say, I didn't sleep easy that night. Late in bed, all I could think of was the look in its eyes. The intensity and intent I could feel behind it. I love animals, and I don't scare easy. But this felt different. Felt wrong. After a good few hours of tossing and turning, struggling to keep the cows off my mind,

sleep finally took me. I woke at the start to the sound and my dad shouting from downstairs. Frantically, I rolled out of bed and shoved on some clothes, stumbling down the steps with a nervous lump in my throat for what could have happened now. It was early, a cold amber tinting the horizon from the sunrise peeking through the cloudy gray sky. The front door was lying open, so I hurried outside and spotted the herd standing in the middle of the field, looking towards a farmhouse, all making distressed mooing sounds. I saw my mom standing in front of the open door, covering her mouth with her hands, a look of shock in her eyes.

Nervously I stepped forward till I laid eyes on it too. This sight made my gut rise, my hand coming to grip onto the barn door to support my legs, which felt like they were about to give out from under me as I tried not to vomit. On the left side of the barn, the wooden stall separating Claribel from the cow she'd bit. hadn't been smashed through. The wood splintered and broken. In the pen, Claribel was stood over the mess that was knell, mouth full of bloody meat. The dead animal's throat was torn open.

Her blood splattered across the wall and hay-covered floor from where it had been ripped open. It wasn't just that, though. Her stomachs were eaten into as well. A gaping hole where her gut was still warm and strewn with gore. And before I turned away, I was fairly sure I saw the part-weight-eaten body of a fetal calf amongst it all. The way she'd been moving to take each bite and swallow it was unnervingly quick and erratic. Nothing like a cow's usual lazy motions. I couldn't stomach another look.

The sound of meat being torn. and chewed by blunt teeth, the offense of coppery smell of blood filling my senses as I struggled not to hyperventilate. It was then I heard my dad yelling. Haven't grabbed a pitch for it, and begun trying to force Clarebell back from the body. And it took him physically prodding her to even get her to step back.

Speaking loudly, he told my mom to call her neighbor Horace to come around and bring his rifle. She ran back from the scene in a hurry. but I was still frozen as I watched my dad shout and fend off the bloodied animal. Clairbell swallowed with a gross gulping noise, and as soon as she had nothing left to chew on, she moved forward towards the corpse again. Hey!

My dad yelled at her, thrusting forward the pronged pitchfork in an effort to scare the cow back. But she completely ignored him. She was strong, the strength behind her movements. knocking the makeshift weapon out of my father's hands as she forced her way back to the corpse of now. When she finally reached it, she immediately bit down again into the pit of the dead cow's stomach. But when she'd opened her mouth, it was wider than I'd ever seen a cow's mouth open before.

Claire Bell made this horrid noise, like someone with a hoarse breath breathing inwards. My dad took a few slow steps back, watching in horror as a tear. terrible feeding continued. I was still stood in the doorway to the barn while this was happening. Glancing back to the house, I could see my frantic-looking mom looking out the window at us from the kitchen, on the phone, talking to someone who I guessed to be hoarse. I heard my dad muttering something, drawing my attention back towards broken stalls. What in God's name! He'd gone pale.

A look confused, disgust, and fear on his own. his face. Instinctually I looked to follow his gaze and saw it too. I felt the breath leave my shaking body, limbs and chest going cold. I'd mentioned before the Claribel was pregnant, but we could see her belly distending. It was moving, shifting as something was pressing against it from the inside, her abdomen becoming visibly larger and the skin thinner as she fed. But the thing pressing against her from the inside. It didn't look at all like a calf. It looked like an arm, a hand pushing outward for a moment.

I took a few faltering steps back, but my dad turned to me and began storming away from the scene, moving past me and marching to the storage shed. When he emerged, he was carrying a can of gasoline, and the look on his face was terrifying. It was this God-fearing anger, like he was hellishly intent on writing what we could both see was so wrong. He walked right past me into the barn and immediately began splashing it onto Clarabelle

in the stalls. The sound of her horrid, breathy, crunching and swallowing, still permeating the chamber. The thing in her stomach is still growing and convulsing. The smell of gas and blood mixed potently as my dad eminent. He emptied the can out into a trail which led past where I stood away a few feet from the barn. He closed the doors and pulled the latch, locking it before lighting a match. He hesitated for just a second, looking at me as if to check what was happening was even real. All I could give him in return was a pale-faced, pleading expression.

He dropped the match, which lit an instant tall flame, Following the trail of gasling quickly with a dull crackling roar, right up to and under the slight gap beneath the barn doors. It was full of hay and dry wood in there. We both knew that soon enough it would be engulfed, along with whatever it was that was inside. I stepped back because it intensified, feeling the heat coming off of it and watching the smoke billowing upwards.

I could feel this tension in my chest, like I was waiting for something to happen. But even as I smelt burning meat, the pain, the bo-bying cries I was expecting never came. As I was about to let out the breath I'd been holding, a sudden ungodly shrieking started. I ran. I ran away as a cell burst forth from the flaming barn,

even as my dad stood firm outside the bar doors. I ran as I heard the horrible pain mix of animal, human wailing from inside the inferno. I couldn't take any more. I ran inside the house straight to the bathroom, dropped in front of the toilet, and was sick. It was hours before the fire burned out.

There was nothing left of the barn but the charred wood and ash and the bones of the cows. I don't think I'll ever be able to feel safe out here again, though. Because my dad told me something that I'll never forget for as long as I live. He saw something escape the fire. For more information, including pictures and videos of the stories told on this podcast,

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