Creepy - Lake Copper Basin

Episode Date: September 30, 2024

Written by: Nicki Brumback and Narrated by: Michelle Kane***Bonus Episode: "Peek" written by: Jack Wight***Support the show at patreon.com/creepypod***Sound design by: Pacific Obadiah***Title music by: Alex Aldea Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

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To see how you can support the show and be rewarded for it, please check out the donation tiers at patreon.com slash creepypod. And speaking of the 31 days of horror, we're almost there. I do want to mention something about the episodes. If you listen to this podcast on Apple devices, Apple has updated the download policy so it'll stop automatically downloading episodes if you don't listen to five in a row.

And in October, that means in five days. I know that some people like to save them up and binge, and I'm all for that. I just want to let people know that yes, episodes are still happening. They haven't stopped, but we have been getting a lot of messages asking if we're still making episodes. Yes, if there's one thing you can count on these days, it's us making episodes, especially in October. We put even more time into the episodes this year for a special format that we hope everyone likes as much as I do. But that doesn't start for like, I don't know, 24 hours?

Oh, and we're also putting a hold on the Holders series for October, and we'll be changing that format come November. But more on that later. And yes, I did hear some of you just cheer. Your thoughts have been shared and noted. Until then, no. No. This is creepy.

A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing. creepy pastas and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened or are simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. Creepy Presents Lake Copper Basin. Written by Nikki Brumback

and narrated by Michelle Kane. My friend is currently rotting in prison for a crime he did not commit. And I don't know how to help him. You've probably heard of us. I mean the news story was hard to escape. Seven college students go into the woods and only two come out. That's the kind of attention-grabbing headlines that media outlets drew over, right? But there is more to that story than what was reported.

It's just that no one would listen. Let's rip the band-aid off then, shall we? My name is Kara, and a few years ago, I was dubbed the final girl of Copper Basin Lake, not the cleverest of names. I was the last survivor of a brutal massacre that took the lives of my closest friends. and my girlfriend, Beth.

I was the last to join the group. I studied engineering. I transferred in my third year of school. I was double majoring in aerospace engineering and computer science, with a minor in astronomy. I had all these dreams of one day becoming an astronaut. I guess that isn't ever going to happen now. No way I could ever get cleared.

just another thing that that night took from me. When I met the others, most of them had known each other since high school. They were locals, except for Beth, which is probably why she and I connected so well. The others never made us feel like outsiders, but there were inevitably inside jokes that we didn't quite get, references to old friends who had moved on. Aside from Beth and I, there was also... So Jason, Haley, Carter, Autumn, and Luke. Nathan was a part of a group, too, but he was going on a trip with his family down to Florida.

The last semester was a blur of final exams, grad school applications, preparing for the ceremony and trying to maintain some semblance of a social life. When it was over, we were all a little burned out. We wanted to get out in the fresh air, but we wanted to get out in the fresh air, but we also wanted a chance to say goodbye. Some of us would be going out into the real world. Others, like me, were delaying the inevitable with graduate school. Either way, our lives were changing forever.

And it was going to be a long time before we all got together again. If ever. Even Beth and I were going to different cities. We wanted to try to make the long distance thing work out, I think we both had the feeling that this was the last hurrah. It was bittersweet. I was head over heels for that girl. Two weeks in the mountains, right on Lake Copper Basin.

The cabin belonged to a friend of Carter's mom. Well, one of those friend of a friend situations, I guess. We got it at a steep discount given the family connection. It wasn't anything luxurious. It certainly lacked upkeep, and we knew we were going to be packed in pretty tight. There were only two rooms, but there was a finished basement with a cocked. Luke was going to be in there, as the only single one among us. We drew straws for who got stuck with the pull-out couch in the living room.

The first few days were a blast. We swam in the lake, grilled some lunch, sat around the fire at night. We told stories, hooked up a phone to the speakers, and danced, drank. There was a lot of drinking, to be honest. The fourth day was the last truly good day, though we didn't think of it as good at the time. Funny, isn't it, how things change when you're looking back at them? Comparatively to what came after, that was heaven. It rained that day, so we couldn't get out on the lake.

Instead, we went to the movies, wandered around the local mall, and ate sub-bar pizza, and pretty amazing Chinese food out of the food court. Falling asleep that night, with the sound of thunder outside and Beth in my arms, how could that be anything but an amazing day? We woke up the next morning, and the sun was pouring in through the sun. windows. It was Autumn who suggested the hike. She said we should stretch our legs after yesterday. She was kind of a fitness nut. Not in a diet way, but she was accustomed to getting up early before classes and going for a run. Apparently, she had done some research on the trails nearby.

There was a lot of complaining, but we all agreed to go. That's the thing with Autumn. No one never really says no to her. She has this open, expressive face and wide puppy dog eyes. Saying no to her felt like stealing candy from a kid. Right after breakfast, we set out on the trail. Beth, a nature enthusiast, was chatting happily with an equally peppy autumn. The rest of us were shuffling along behind like zombies for the first part of the hike. As the air started to warm, we thought, thawed out. Jason and Luke were messing around like kids. Carter and I discussed a shared class last semester with a professor who ran his lab like a military facility, and Haley had joined Beth in autumn. It was wonderful. Then we made the biggest mistake of our lives. We stopped a little after

one for lunch, hopping off the trail to find someplace to sit and eat. It was such a beautiful. day. I don't know. I guess the guys got antsy and wanted to explore something. They wandered off. I'm not exactly sure how long they were gone, long enough for us to start getting concerned when we heard them come stumbling back through the bush. They were laughing loudly, whooping and taunting each other as they burst through the tree line. They had found a stream, they said. They had followed it and it led them to the mouth of a cave. They wanted to poke around inside. We protested, of course.

Autumn talked about the importance of staying near the path, but the boys insisted it was just a little way off. When we got to the entrance of the cave, I remember Haley saying it looked like a screaming mouth. The crumbling rocks were broken, shattered teeth. Once she pointed it out, I couldn't unsee it. Stepping into that cave was like being swallowed whole. We were walking of our own free will into the belly of a beast.

We were so stupid. I forgot my hesitancy once we were inside. I remember feeling like some explorer from centuries ago. I kept that feeling to myself. I knew the others would start cracking jokes about buried treasure and the donner party. The cave wasn't something shallow either. There were actual tunnels with dead ends and sharp turns. I kept expecting to find some end. I asked Autumn if she was sure she hadn't seen anything about the cave on any of the trail maps, but she was certain.

The air was cool but stale. I don't know if that's normal. I'm not much of an outdoorsy person. Jason was chatting excitedly about being the first person to discover this place and naming it. But we should have known if something was wrong. It was so close to the fucking trail. How could no one have heard of it? I guess I just figured that Autumn must have missed something. Eventually, we decided to turn back. I had this moment of panic where I was certain we would be lost, but Beth had been marked.

our way. Thank fucking God. Still, as we got closer to the entrance of the cave, I became increasingly anxious. I can't explain it. That brief moment of fear that we would be lost was like uncorking a bottle. I needed fresh air. I needed to be out in the open. The place, I was suddenly aware, could come down around us at any time. It was unlikely the place would have been millions of years old, but at that moment, I wasn't thinking about that. I surged ahead of the group following Beth's mark until I burst out of the cave entrance. I remember taking these deep, gasping breaths like I had been drowning. But the others didn't follow me.

I thought they were messing with me, making fun of me for running ahead and leaving them behind. I called out to them, told them to stop fucking around, but I didn't hear anything. I went a little closer to the entrance but didn't step fully inside. I called out for Beth. She knew me better than anyone else. She would have heard in my voice that it was really freaking me out. She responded a quick, Cora, we have a problem.

Then came the sound of her footsteps on stone. She emerged out of the darkness. her brow furrowed. Luke was missing. She had been just about to come after me, she said. When Jason pointed out that Luke wasn't with them, the others had turned back already. I didn't want to go back in there.

The thought of it made my stomach drop like I was standing at the edge of a tall building. But the idea of Luke alone in one of those passages was far worse. Beth, of course, noticed my internal conflict because she took my hand and promised she would stay by my side the entire time. We retraced our steps through the tunnels, listening to the others as they shouted Luke's name.

It was Carter who found him first. He was just standing there. He was staring at one of the walls, a dead end. His hand was pressed against the stone. He wasn't responding. I walked up to him, turned so I could see his face, and it was like, like it was empty, like he had been sleepwalking. I put my hand on his shoulder, and he jumped.

One minute he was gone, and suddenly he was just himself again. He said he didn't remember anything after stepping into the cave. For him, it was like no time had passed at all between Haley's comment about the story. screaming mouth and us standing around him like he was some kind of frightened animal. Autumn and Carter kept insisting that we should take him to get looked at by a doctor or something. Luke wasn't having it. He said he was fine and he wasn't going to waste hours of his vacation in a hospital waiting room just to be told to take a Tylenol and drink water. The walk back to the cabin was uneventful. I think we were all alone.

little shaken by what had happened. We didn't talk, just kept moving as the sun gradually sunk lower in the sky. It was the first night we didn't sit around the fire or play music. We lased around the cabin until we were ready for bed. The next morning, though, Luke looked exhausted. He smiled through it, but his shoulders were hunched. He had a rough night, I guess. Autumn and Carter both fussed over him like anxious parents, but he brushed him off. We carried on with our day like normal. The incident yesterday was otherwise forgotten. But that night, that night, the screaming started. The sound rose from the basement, muffled but audible. Jason and Haley got downstairs first. They were the couple who had been stuck with the pull-out couch in the living

room. When I got down there, Jason was sitting on the floor next to Luke, an arm slung over his shoulder. Luke's face was red. His eyes were watery with unshed tears. Haley was biting at her thumbnail, a nervous habit. It was just a dream, that's all? A dream of screams rising from the cave, of hands reaching out to him from the lake, of a voice telling him, that we needed to leave this place. He was certain that he had woken with bugs crawling across his skin, squirming inside his mouth, nose, and ears. They were choking him.

He could feel their legs on his tongue. He tried to scream, but it wouldn't come out. Then he had fallen from the hammock, and he was broken from the dream for real. He told us not to mention. to Carter or Autumn. Those two would take it way too seriously, he told us. They'd try to turn it into something that it wasn't. It was just a coincidence. If I was being honest, I was concerned as well, but I don't know, I guess I thought I would sound like an idiot. Luke obviously didn't want to go to a doctor. We let it go, but then it happened again the next night. Luke agreed to go get looked at.

As he expected, they couldn't find anything wrong, but the nightmares continued. In the daytime, we tried to go on as if nothing was happening. We swam, drank, tried to goof off like those first few days, but Luke was clearly just so exhausted. His eyes were bloodshot and his smile was weak. It seemed like he had aged years in just the span of a few days. I pulled him aside and asked if we should call it early. Maybe being back home in his own bed would give him the rest he needed. He didn't want that.

In fact, he asked that we stopped talking about it. I guess it was embarrassing for him to have all this attention on him. I should have pushed. I knew he was struggling. The day before Luke... No, not Luke. It wasn't him. The day before it happened, Luke disappeared.

We weren't certain if we should call the police. After all, wouldn't they just tell us that he's an adult with the right to leave if you wanted to? Would they take it more seriously if they knew about his recent nightmares? How would Luke react if he turned up and the police were here searching through his things for any sign of where he had gone? He'd never speak to us again, that's for sure. But wasn't his life and his safety more important than his friendship? We called the police, but he'd only been gone for a few hours. They told us to take a look for ourselves and get back to them if he didn't turn up.

Jason and Carter suggested going to look for him at the cave. They told us to stay behind in case he showed up, but it wasn't necessary. They never talked about what happened there. But when the boys returned, Luke between them. Jason had a bloody nose and they weren't speaking. We still had the cabin for four more days, but we decided we would leave the next morning. It was time to pull the plug.

The time had long passed in truth. We waited too long. I couldn't sleep that night. I was preparing to hear my first. friends screams rise up from the basement. I didn't think I could do it again that night, so instead of lying there waiting for it, I decided to go for a walk. I stayed with an eyesight of the cabin. I walked along the edge of the lake. The water looked inky black under the moonless night sky. I stepped out onto the pier. My friends and I had jumped from the dock dozens of times over the last

few days. But much like in the cave, I felt fear creep over my body. It cemented my feet in place and sent chills up my legs and prickle up my back and over my shoulders. I stared down into the water and remembered Luke's dream, hands rising up from the lake. I imagined arms bloated and pale reaching out to me, barely disturbing the water. They would pull me down into the depths and tear at my skin and hair. I'd struggle, my lungs aching with the need for air, until I was forced to take in that cold, muddy water. Every part of me would be replaced with it. I would be one with the lake forever.

No, no, I needed to get out of there. Part of me wanted to beg the others to wake up. Why wait till morning? We should leave right then. We didn't belong there. No one should disturb the peace of the mountains. I forced myself to stop and take a deep breath. I was being ridiculous.

That's what I told myself, that I was simply letting the stress from the last few days get to me. The vacation had been spoiled, but things would be better when we got home. Not just for Luke, but for all of us. I didn't want to go back inside yet. I was still feeling too restless and didn't want to wake Beth with my tossing and turning. Instead, I sat in one of the long chairs and put my earbuds in. There are dozens of choices that we made during those days at Lake Copper Basin

that I could go back and change, things that could have stopped that night from ever coming to pass. But I think if everything was going to play out the way it did regardless, then the one thing I would want to change the most is that moment. I should have gone back to bed. I should have laid down next to Beth and taken her in my arms. If I could, that is exactly what I would do. I would apologize for waking her. I'd kiss her and tell her to go back to sleep, and then I would wait.

I'd wait for the creek of the basement door and the heavy footsteps of Luke crossing the hall. I'd wait for the end. Reports say that he started with Jason. Maybe Jason was already awake and getting a glass of water from the kitchen. Maybe Luke lured him in there somehow. Jason never had a chance to fight back. Blunt forced trauma to the head rendered him unconscious. Luke had struck him over the head with a hammer from the toolbox he had found in the storage closet downstairs.

Jason lay there, prone, as Luke, Luke swung the hammer again and again. Haley was next, of course. She was still asleep when Luke climbed on top of her. His hands slick with blood, covered her face and mouth, wrapped around her throat. She fought back. Haley would have never gone down without a fight. She clawed at him, slapped and punched and bucked.

was so strong, but she couldn't fight forever. Then Luke went to the kitchen and grabbed a knife. He crept up the stairs and entered the bedroom where Carter and Autumn were sleeping. He plunged with the blade into Autumn first. She was on the right side of the bed, the one closest to the door. The knife cut into the flesh of her abdomen. I don't know if she screamed, but there were was no way he could avoid waking Carter up. The resulting commotion was enough to reach even me, outside and above the music. I thought I had imagined it. I pulled my earbuds out and stood, turning to face the house, just as one of the second-story windows shattered. I watched, disconnected, as a body fell and hit the ground with a repulsive thud. I walked.

walked over and stared into the lifeless eyes of Carter. The details are a little fuzzy. There was this pounding in my ears I felt disconnected from my body. My first instinct was to go inside and find the others. I stepped up onto the deck and entered through the back door. I bypassed the light switch and made it three steps into the kitchen. when my foot slid on the slick tile. I went down hard, my hands coming up to catch myself.

There was a crack as my wrist snapped. A sobbed tore as way out of my throat, too stupid with pain and confusion to keep quiet. I swallowed, trying to resist vomiting as shock-induced nausea hit me like a wake. I was struck by the childish desire to lay there and wait for help. That initial instinct that someone stronger and braver will come and make everything better.

I pictured my mother in my mind. The way she always used to pick me up as a child and distract me from my hurts. My eyes were clenched tight and I breathed through the pain. When I opened my eyes, that's when I saw Jason. It was just one of his arms and the top of his head that showed beyond the kitchen island between us. I tried to speak his name, but the sound of it came out, wronged, and jumbled. I could say that I went to check his pulse. I wish I could say that I comforted him as he took his final breath.

I didn't do either of those things. Instead, I turned so that I was on to do. my back and stared up at the ceiling. I had to get to Beth. I struggled to my feet. My injured wrist tucked protectively against my chest. I grabbed a knife from the block on the kitchen counter. I never saw Haley's body, though I certainly must have walked right by her. The steps seemed like a mountain in their own right. Rather than a measly twelve, there appeared to be Thousands, an insurmountable challenge. I leaned against the wall and took each step slowly, my breath shaking.

When I reached the landing, I was nearly blinded by the flickering artificial light of the television coming from Carter and Autumn's room. My eyes had become adjusted to the dark. Perhaps it was stupid to turn on the light. The cover of night was better for hiding. I was down an arm and the handle of the knife was loose in my left hand, my non-dominant hand. I couldn't defend myself like this, but I wasn't thinking about hiding. All I wanted to do was find Beth and get out. Our bedroom door was open, but it was empty.

I crossed into the opposite room where the curtains billowed as air poured in from the broken window. A gasp drew my attention. Hottom was still alive, on the ground with her back pressed against the wall. She clutched the jagged wound at her belly, the blood spilling over her fingers. She smiled when she saw me. Her teeth were stained red. I lied to her, you know. I told her everything would be okay.

But I knew. I knew from this. sound of her breath and the look in her eyes that she was gone. I asked if she had seen Beth, but she didn't respond. She was gone. I nearly broke then. In that moment, all I wanted to do was sit down next to her and not get up. I felt alone in the world, but there was still hope for Beth. She must have slipped past me somehow. I had come in through the rear of the house. It was possible she had gone out through the front door while I was lying there on the kitchen floor. Perhaps she was looking for me. A small beep drew my attention. Autumn's phone lit up, half covered by

her pale, limp fingers. It was like my brain finally caught up in that moment. I reluctantly released my pulled on the knife and took up her phone, entering her little sister's birthday to unlock it, and frantically dialed 911. The operator's voice seemed fake to me. It was strange to hear someone else's voice, someone on the outside. How was the world beyond this cabin still going on? How had all of existence not taken a pause? Held its breath and vigil of what happening here? Marie. I learned later that the 911 operator was named Marie. She's married and has two children, both almost grown. I met her once after everything. She was my lifeline in that moment. I remember being convinced that she wouldn't believe me, that like in the movies, she would

hang up and met her something about damn kids these days, Drinking too much and holding up the emergency line as part of a sick joke. I begged over and over, and Marie kept reassuring me that she would have someone out to me as soon as possible. She told me to stay on the line with her, but then a scream shattered the illusion of safety that that phone call had provided me. I told Marie I was going to find Beth to send whoever she could, and then I hung up, over her protests. I took up the knife again and stood. The adrenaline was starting to kick in,

and I made faster progress than before, back down the stairs and out the front door, which hung a jar. I found them at the edge of the lake. She was on the ground, unmoving. He straddled her waist, bringing what looked like a brick down onto her head again and again. I vomited then, and that drew his attention to me. Luke, only it wasn't him. It wasn't. I know how that sounds. His skin was too pale. His eyes, they were hard to see, but I swear to you that even with the porch light I saw too. two pools of black where his eyes should have been. I didn't say anything to him, but I didn't back away either.

Maybe I don't have one of those fight or flight instincts. I froze. The two of us stared at each other. Then it rose. It, not him, not Luke. hands bruised and bloody, the skin over the knuckles broken. There was something squirming over his chest and around his legs. You could see the movement and the shape of them beneath his clothing. A shape poked from beneath the collar of his shirt like the head of a snake. It took another step,

finally within reach of the porch light. I realized that it wasn't a snake, but a vine. The vine curled itself around the being's neck. The creature took me in, its head cocking to the side. It opened its mouth, too wide, and spit like cloudy water from the bank of the river spilled forth. A ragged sound rose up from its throat. I turned to run back into the house, but it was so fast. It caught up to me before I eat. even made it halfway through the living room. Something wrapped around my ankles and sent me down hard. I flipped over on my back just as the creature loomed over me. I plunged the knife into its chest, and it screamed. Its breath was hot against my face, reeking of death and coppery blood.

Thick drool speckled my face and dripped onto my neck. I sobbed as it wrenched the knife. The night. I sobbed as it wrenched the knife from its shoulder and held it up high. Mercifully, sirens, the sound of tires spinning over gravel. The weight of the creature was gone. It took off into the night. They say Luke was wandering in the direction of the cabin when the police found him hours later. He called out for help, waved them down as if nothing had happened. He said he was lost, and that he was. He was lost, and that he woke in a cave covered in blood and was worried about his friends. In police interviews, he maintained that he had no memory of anything happening that night. When he led the investigators back to where he had woken up, there was no cave. I too was asked to lead the detectives to

the cave that we had explored in the early days of our arrival. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't find it. I've been to see him. His eyes are the same green as they once were. His skin, the same olive tone that it always had been. I told him my side of the story. Just like I'm telling you now, I listened to what he had to say. A sheet of bulletproof glass stood between us.

Armed guards and security cameras tracked our every move. I know that whatever happened that night was not Luke's fault, but no one will listen. They say the traumatic events of that night have warped my memory. I have created some new reality in my mind to protect myself from what really happened. But I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Luke is innocent. I just don't know. what to do about it. For your bonus episode, Creepy Presents.

Peek. Written by Jack White. I've had someone peeking at me for most of my life. He kind of reminds me that poem by William Hughes Mewens. It goes, Yesterday upon the stair, I met a man who wasn't there. He wasn't there again today.

Oh, how I wish he'd go away. That's only the first of three verses, but it's a short poem. The first time I saw Mr. Peaks, I was a child, and that's when I named him. You can't really hold it against a nine-year-old when he's being unoriginal. The name stuck, and his name is Mr. Peaks. I call him Mr. Peaks because he's never told me his name. Mr. Peaks doesn't speak. He only looks at me.

That shouldn't be a surprise. I've never seen the bottom half of Mr. Peek's head, only the top of his nose, his brow, and his eyes. I don't like his eyes. I want to say that Mr. Peaks is a man, but I don't know if he is or not. I refer to him as he, because he seems like a man, but his skin's wrong color,

and so are his eyes. If he is a man, he must be a very old man, because his forehead is creased with deep wrinkles. When I look at his head, I'm always reminded of a potato which has been left out for too long and is starting to sprout and rot. I'm intentionally avoiding describing his eyes because I don't like him. But I want to tell you about Mr. Peaks, and that's the most important part.

Mr. Peaks is just a pair of eyes, with a head like an afterthought. His eyes are dry like chalky marbles. Most people take it for granted that eyes are wet and shiny. But when you see dry eyes, the difference is immediately noticeable. You'd think that because his eyes are dry that they would seem dead and flat.

They don't. His eyes are incredibly alive and intelligent. And hateful. Mr. Peaks hates me, and he's always hated me. I can see it in his stare. His stare is wide and glaring with deep, sagging wrinkles. His eyes make him look sick or like he's suffering because they're so jaundiced. Run through with purplish capillaries and rimmed with irritated pink skin.

I think the skin around his eyes is probably pink like that because his eyes hurt. That probably explains why his eyes are so dry too, because he never blinks. I've known Mr. Peaks for 28 years, and he hasn't blinked once. I don't think that Mr. Peaks is here with me, at least not all the way, because he peaks up from behind things that are too small for him to hide behind. The first time I saw him, I was in the shower and he was peeking at me over the curtain. I remember feeling cold despite being sprayed by water so hot that my skin was turning lobster red.

When I looked up, there he was. He was peeking over the shower curtain. He was just a desiccated top of a head. And wide yellow eyes like terrible saucers. I was too scared to scream for help. The sheer weirdness of him peaked a morbid curiosity. He was peeking over the top of the curtain rod, which was maybe an inch wide, and I could see the bottom of the curtain rod because our shower rings were big.

I couldn't see the bottom half of his face at all. At nine, I reasoned that the bottom half of his face must have been somewhere else along with the rest of his body. I was glad that the bottom half was somewhere else, because I could tell by his eyes that Mr. Peaks would really like to hurt me. His stare was so wide and intense that his eyelids were trembling. It gave his stare an unpleasant, vibrating quality that made his eyes look like they were buzzing at me.

If you keep staring at Mr. Peaks, he'll stare right back, and he won't ever go away unless he'll look at. you look away or run and hide. I ran out of the shower, and when I looked behind me, there was nothing on the outside of the shower curtain. After that, I would see Mr. Peaks every now and then. Sometimes you peek from outside,

but mostly Mr. Peaks likes to be inside with me. I also know that Mr. Peaks doesn't like the sunlight, because if he comes out in the daylight, he's careful to never let it fall directly on him. I'll bet that the son hurts him. That would make sense to me. I won't catalog every time I saw Mr. Peaks because that wouldn't be worth listening to. He showed up hundreds of times and because most of the time it wasn't any different.

I'd be doing something, then I'd feel cold and numb. Whenever I got that feeling, I knew he'd be somewhere in the room with me. well, as in as he could seem to get. I'd look around frantically for him because I didn't like it when he was too close to me. Sometimes he'll show up inches from my face and I really don't like that. When he's that close I can smell him

and he smells like old dust and cobwebs the way a tool shed might if left abandoned for years. Most of the time though, he's a couple feet away or across the room. I think he likes to peek from impossible places to show off. I think he wants me to know that he's something impossible and strange. He likes to scare me. I'll see him peeking from behind a milk cart on the counter or out of the sink.

One time I saw him peeking from inside my crock pot. Sometimes I've caught him peeking out of cabinets or through small holes, but usually not. He doesn't like me to miss him. It makes him angry. He's been with me for years. He'll show up with a silent glare and then disappear after I blink him away.

I'll confirm where he is and then go back to what I'm doing and ignore him. I think this makes him angrier. But after so many months and years, I've started to get used to him. I got complacent with him. Once I grew up and hit my teenage years, I was even less affected by it. I toyed with the idea that I might be insane for a while,

but then I flicked a rock at Mr. Peaks and it bounced off his forehead. He didn't move at all, but his irises faded from deep ultramarine to a blue so pale that they were almost white. I could feel his raid boiling out of him from his hiding place, and I decided to never push my luck like that again. I graduated high school, then college, then I joined the military. None of that's important, so I won't go into it. But Mr. Peaks was there the entire time.

By the time I was in my mid-30s, Mr. Peaks had become my quiet companion. I never liked Mr. Peaks. In fact, I hate him. I just got used to him. Hell, he was there on my wedding day, peaking from behind the coleslaw. Now I'm in my mid-thirties, Nevada's son. And now things are starting to change. Mr. Peaks was peeking over Atticus as Bassinet and the night he was born.

And that was the first time that it was different. His hateful eyes ignored me completely. He was looking at my son. His eyes were wide and feverish, and his pale pupils were dilated like in Attics. I looked away and looked back, and he was still there. This time he was looking at me again. The same hateful gaze I'd come to know so well. When I was finally able to blink, he was gone.

It didn't get better when we took Atticus home. Mr. Peaks, who'd normally... Mr. Peaks, who I would normally see about once a month, started to show up more frequently, and only when I was with Atticus. One time he hung around for almost an hour, and no matter how often I blinked or looked away, he would be there.

I've taken to leaving all the lights on in my house all the time, prompting my wife to ask what the hell is wrong with me, because the lights make it harder for the baby to sleep. I don't want to let her know that I'm trying to do it to protect him. Mr. Peaks is even outside now. I've started taking Atticus outside as often as possible so that we can both stay safe in the sun. It's not working. I see Mr. Peaks behind stone walls and in tree branches.

After decades of Mr. Peaks, I'd convinced myself that he was benign. Now, I know that's not the case. I found Mr. Peaks behind Atticus' crib. And although I can only see the top of his head, his cheeks and his eyes were upturned. I knew that Mr. Peaks was smiling. It wasn't a kind smile. Nothing about Mr. Peaks is kind or warm. Over the months, Atticus has been growing more and more aware.

He looks around and coos and laughs. He's a happy baby. When he cries, he's quick into the play. point. He lets me know he needs something and once he gets it he settles right down. One time, though, I heard him absolutely scream. He was wailing like he was in pain and I tore into his bedroom, sure that I would find him tangled up in his blankets or choking on his milk. But it was Mr. Peaks. Atticus was staring, wild-eyed into Mr. Peek's dusty eyes with a look of horror cracking his soft features.

I cursed and swore. I told Mr. Peaks to go away. He did, but not before I saw his cheeks pull up again into a hyena's grin. If I ever had doubts as to whether Mr. Peaks is real, those are gone. I've lost any hope that he might be a brain tumor or a manifestation of childhood trauma or some other nonsense. Mr. Peaks is real, and he's trying to come through. Every day he's pushing at the membrane between his world and ours.

I don't know where Mr. Peaks comes from, but I bet it's somewhere cold and dark. I bet he wanders there looking for windows to peer in at my family. I bet he's looking for a door. Or maybe he's already found one. I can see him now on the other side, squeezing himself through like an octopus, one tentacle at a time. My wife has started to complain that the house always feels cold. She asks me to locate the source of the odd odor she's always smelling. She says it smells like musty old books in our house, and she's right.

I tell her that it is probably a dead rat in our wall, or some old piece of trash we neglected through the years. One night she even talked to me about a nightmare where she saw a man with wild eyes looking at Atticus from behind the dresser. Last night was the worst. I was dozing in my bed, not sleeping. I never really sleep anymore.

I can't when there's something sniffing around my house, poking and prodding, trying to get in. I'm supposed to keep my house safe, and I'm failing utterly. Atticus started to wail in a pitch I'd only heard once before. I tore into the nursery to find Atticus alone in the room so frigid that Frost was creeping over the window. I sprinted to my son's side, and he wasn't alone. We keep Atticus in a little pillow that hugs him on all sides and keeps him from rolling over. It was a good idea, and it makes him feel safe.

Mr. Peaks was leering from underneath, inches from my son's face. His yellowed eyes were pulled open so wide that they were round and bugging like the eyes of a deep sea fish. His irises trembled in their sockets, and I could see tears streaming down Mr. Peake's face. Then slowly, horribly, a long finger reached from under Atticus's pillow and slowly correct. his face. The resulting scream pierced me like a needle, and I had Atticus in my arms in less than a second. He had a terrible, dark scratch on his face. When I looked back, Mr. Peaks was gone again. How much more of him will I see? What does he want with my son? It seems like only a matter

of time before Mr. Peaks can come through completely. I'm lost. I'm lost. I'm not. I'm completely hopeless. I just want to protect my son, and I have no idea what to do. Mr. Peaks is here again today. Oh, how I wish he'd go away. For more information on this podcast, including how to submit your own story for consideration, please visit creepypod.com. You can also follow us at creepypod on social media,

and YouTube. All stories told on this podcast are done so through creative common share-a-like licensing, or with written consent from the authors. No portion of this podcast may be rebroadcast or otherwise distributed without the express written consent of the creepy podcast production team and the stories author.