Creepy - Mabel's Storytime

Episode Date: May 19, 2025

Mabel's Storytime***Written by: Mike Mann and Narrated by: Nichole Goodnight***Tubing My Troubles Away***Written by: No One of Consequence and Narrated by: Owen McCuen***Happily Ever After***Written by: James Tloczynski***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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As a reminder, submissions are always open. There are just certain times a year when we look for specific themes. Speaking of which, it's time to start thinking about October. So if you have an October-themed story, you know, pumpkins, scarecrows, trick-or-treating, selling your eternal soul, et cetera. We're going to be asking for him really soon. And I mean really soon. Until then, 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, most simply fabrications, is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised.

For our first story this evening, an old woman recounts her tragic, grotesque life to a captive listener. And as her eerie monologue unfolds, the listener realizes the story is more than just a story. Creepy presents Mabel's Storytime Written by Mike Mann And narrated by Nicole Goodnight Oh hush now, child

Just take a bite and gain your strength A growing boy needs to eat While you eat, I'll tell you a story A stormy night like this reminds me My first born rest his soul His name was Anton And he was brought into the world on a night just like this storms brewing, thunder rattling the windows in the sky lit up with streaks of lightning.

What a glorious scene to bring life into our home. I was so proud to be his mama. Can't say the same about his pa. Don't worry, I'll explain that later. Eat up now. Ronald was a strong and handsome man, the best crop of our family. See, back in my day, to keep the bloodline strong, we were courted by our cousins, and he was my chosen bow.

My, my, my, was he a dreamboat, muscular arms, tall and full of wonder. His mama, my aunt Vera, happily took the four cows and billy goat for the dowry. The two of us were married in the old Abidon church up on the hill near Necropolis Creek. It was a small ceremony, but oh, was it beautiful? I sure shed a tear or two when he put that ring on my finger. The first few years were a dream. But then Ronald started up his still. That corn liquor he made sure brought the devil out of him.

He would beat me something fierce if I didn't have dinner ready the moment he came home from the mines. Ain't nothing worse than taking a cold dust-covered fist to the face. That black powder leaves a harsh sting in your eye, and the swelling is horrendous, to say the least. What's that? Oh, you don't like the soup? Well, that's quite all right. I'll sit it over here for now.

Oh, where was I? Oh, that's right. After I learned the proper way to avoid Ronald's fits of rage, I did my best to keep him in good spirits. Freshly baked cookies filled with barbiturates did the trick, but it tended to put him in a certain mood. The downside of his giant size was his lustful manner and what he was equipped with.

I'll spare you the details, but let's just say he would leave me sore and praying for the nights to end quickly. It may matters worse when I would ask him to stop. I didn't take long to learn to bear the burden and just let the man get his fill. It was a painful process. But I'd rather have dealt with that than the thick leather strap being brought against my back and cheeks. Especially when he swung it with the brass buckle at the end of it.

Never a fun experience. Trust me, dearie. As luck would have it, we were eventually blessed with a visit from the stork. Yes, sir, I was pregnant. And let me tell you, the weight and pains were absolute hell. It made cooking and cleaning difficult with a giant belly in my way. Ronald was not at all pleased by that, which meant he would either take a strap to me or throw a few punches to my stomach. But that's just how the man was.

So I had to up the dosage on the barbiturates in order to calm his fits of rage. But that also meant he would be even rougher in the carnal way. Eventually one thing led to another, and during a session of rough passion, he caused my water to break. I was new to the realm of pregnancy, so I was new to the realm of pregnancy, so I was new to the realm of pregnancy, I didn't know that blood was a bad sign. What a 14-year-old lady would know such things? What's that? Oh, well, yes, I did get married young, but that was normal back then. Ronald? I believe he was 19 when we wed. Don't look at me like that. You kids nowadays live differently. In my day, that was normal. Shush now, and let me continue. Like I said, I was new to

motherhood and didn't know what all to expect. Although I did find it odd that I also bled out of nose while pink foam oozed out of my eyes. It was a mess of fluids, and oh my, the birthing pains. Child, let me tell you, I would rather have been beaten with Ronald Tickory cane than go through that again. After the straining and pushing through my labor our little boy was born. Ronald gasped and yelled when he caught a glimpse of the baby. I believe his exact words were, shit. What the hell did you grow in your body, woman? Toss it off of the cliff out yonder. He was not happy with the child he had a hand in making. Granted, Anton wasn't the most handsome boy, but he was such an angel.

He had one of my blue eyes and one of Ronald's hazel eyes. His hair did grow in odd places due to the patches of orange scales that protruded from his scalp. But as clear, the hair color came from my side of the family. His olive skin was a sure sign of Ronald's side, but the jagged horn above his left eyebrow was a mystery to me, as was the tail with its heart-shaped tip. It caught me off guard as well. I refused to listen to Ronald, no matter how much he beat me.

Anton was our baby, and I would protect him no matter what. Motherhood is sure difficult, I'll tell you. Never knew that babies drank blood along with breast milk. But Anton sure loved to bite hard enough to break the skin. Sometimes he preferred to feed from my wrists instead of my breast. He would use a small set of rather sharp teeth to make a hole in my vein. It was a little uncomfortable, but what can you do? Huh? Sorry, honey, you need to speak up. I don't hear so well anymore after Anton chewed the ear off.

Oh, no, I never had relations with anyone prior. Anton was definitely Ronald's child. What's that? Oh, no, no, no. Why would I ever beat my child? It was just an ear. Besides, Anton didn't know what he was doing, and he seemed rather happy after he ingested it. He had a terrible tummy ache that week, and after he swallowed my ear, he was just an ear. he was cured. It was so strange, but I was relieved that my boy felt better afterwards. How could I punish him for that? Anyway, as the years went on, Ronald got worse with his drinking. This meant he got meaner. He tried many times to take Anton away and throw him off the cliff near our home or leave him outside in the cold during the winter following his birth. One time, he got so angry that he

threw the boy through our window. I tried to warn him about Anton's due clause, but he refused to listen, and to complain about the boy's glowing eyes. To be fair, it did give me a start. the first time I saw Anton's eyes glowing in the dark. But that was no reason for him to be thrown out like a piece of trash, especially out a glass window. Luckily, our baby boy was a tough little cookie. He barely bled and received no broken bones. On his fourth birthday, we both had our fill with Ronald's bad behavior.

I'd spent all day making a nice cake full of Anton's favorite flavors, buttercream, chocolate, blood, and stag beetles. I spent that day slaving over the stove to fry up the possums who had been rummaging through a trash. They're a bit gamey in taste, but Anton loved to eat them. I added some mashed potatoes and deep-fried scorpions, drizzled in honey, and the dinner was complete. I even clipped off my pinky toe to give the birthday boy an extra treat for a special day.

After all, he did have a fondness for the taste of my flesh. I'd do anything for that boy. Ronald barged in shortly after Anton had blown out his candles. The man reeked of corn liquor and cigars. He slapped my poor baby across the face so hard that a tooth flew out of his mouth. I heard it bounce onto the floor. He shed those green-colored tears and ran to his room. I threw off my apron and ran after him, but Ronald stopped me. He gripped my arm hard and spun me around. Fire burned in his eyes when he scolded me. You worthless bitch, why are you

celebrating that creature? He needs to die. He slapped me in the face and then stormed towards Anton. I heard the door fly open, and the sound of his hand pummeling against my child sent a jolt in my spine. Anton wailed in pain while Ronald screamed at him, calling him a beast, monster, and bastard. I hit my breaking point then and gripped the knife I was going to use to cut the cake. The wooden handle creaked when I squeezed it. I slowly started walking towards the sounds, my heart thumped so hard that I could feel it in my temples. My ears buzzed, and my legs felt stiff. I wasn't sure what my true intentions were, but I knew I had to stop Ronald. Right as I got to the doorway, the commotion ceased and was replaced by a wet noise followed by a long, moaning

gasp of air. I walked in to see Anton pulling his horn out of a hole it had created in Ronald's stomach. The red liquid spurt, and some landed on my dress. The fluid slowly dripped off of the horn in a pool surrounded Ronald. He glared at me and rasped. Kill that damn thing, Mabel, now. His hand squeezed my ankle. I kicked him off and dropped to my knees. A spark lit up within me, and I watched my arms raise and bring that blade deep into the chest of the man I once loved. I can't tell you how many times I drove it in or how long I spent cleaning the mess we had made. Anton helped move the body into our little shed. Over the course of a month, my growing boy had completely devoured the corpse of his late

father until there was nothing left but bones. Such a helpful child. I sold Ronald Still and his tractor in order to make ends meet. Eventually, I opened up my own bakery down on Dartmouth Avenue. Anton helped me for a while but avoided every customer that came in to buy my baked goods. He was such a shy boy. Oh, here.

Why don't you have a cookie, sweetie? They're fresh and made from real strawberries. They're one of my best sellers at the bakery. Help yourself while I continue. Now when Anton was 15, he became interested in girls. He had his eye on a few and I did my best to educate him, at least from a woman's perspective. He went to court and but sadly all the girls ran away from him.

She was reaching seven feet tall, and I guess his horn, tails, and dewclaws seemed off-putting. But if they had looked past those things, they would see what a sweet boy he was. He soon went sneaking out periodically. I knew it was happening, but I didn't yell at him for it. I thought freedom would break him out of his shell. Little did I know what he was doing during those nightly adventures. I soon found out when I discovered the scalps of a few girls along with their torn dresses. The fabric was tattered and stained red.

The scalps looked to have been crudely ripped off. Clearly, things didn't work out with them, and Anton. Before I could hide these things or talk to my son, there was an orange glow outside and allowed begging at the door. I answered it to see the entire town in my yard, all equipped with torches and a few had rope and knives. They demanded Anton to come out. They were going to lynch my poor baby.

I couldn't let that happen, so I tried to slam the door. Unfortunately, I wasn't strong enough, and they busted in. Two men hit me and then held me down, while a few others ran into Anton's to discover the scalps and dresses. They destroyed the house trying to find him. Eventually they caught him while he attempted to run out of the back door. I was dragged to witness the heartbreaking event. I was to be there to watch my boy hang.

The men tied his hands behind his back and pushed him to the center of town. They strung up a rope and tied the noose while a group of five beat and stomped on my poor Anton. He shrieked with agony as the blood spewed from his mouth. One man gouged his beautiful blue eye out. In a twist of events, he broke his restraints and was able to hold his own for a while. He ripped the throats of two, then snapped the neck of another. I cheered for my boy as he fought for his life. But he was soon overpowered.

The mayor stuck a knife in his back. Then they put that rope around his neck. They pulled him off of the ground and forced me to watch him flail and kick until his life fluttered from his one remaining eye. They left him hanging for three days before setting his body on fire. I was punished for trying to save him. The bastards burned my bakery and locked me in the courthouse jail for eight days. Seeing that they saw me as a sad old woman, I wasn't banished or anything like that.

But for a while, no one spoke to me. I still miss my son dearly, and these stormy nights remind me of him. And your bright blue eyes remind me of them too. Oh, you want to know what makes those cookies so crunchy? Why, those are the bits of stag beetle wings. Anton loved those. Ugh, how rude. Why would you spit those out? Such disrespect. I'm going to have to leave you here to sit and think about what you've done. Just tasteful display, I swear. Have you thought about your actions, young man? No, just going to sit there in silence? Fine then. You know, you should be grateful for every meal you receive. Someday, things like that won't be around. It's a good thing you weren't here for the famine of 82. My, what a dreadful time to be in Azizel Pines. There was a terrible drought. followed by a monstrous plague of black mold, which decimated everyone's fields.

Not a single ear of corn or grain of wheat could be eaten. What crops didn't die from lack of rain were destroyed by the black pulsing veins of that nasty disease. I remember watching old Cotton Athens trying to eat an infected batch of potatoes. They were covered in that mold, and two days after he ate him, he ran outside screaming. His eyes were oozing pus and his stomach was bloated. As I watched him fall to his knees, his stomach burst open. blood and intestines splattered on the yellow grass that had been dead for months,

large insects popped out and dug into the dirt, poor cotton rolled in pure terror and agony for a few minutes before bleeding to death. There are a few other residents who tried eating the plague's crops. Each one died in about the same manner. The whole damn thing caused the population here to dwindle drastically. This led to everyone around here turning to hunting. Now most folks around these parts did hunt on occasion, but now it was becoming a necessity. However, the problem was that you had to look out for the animals with black mushrooms growing from their ears and nose,

or pay attention to the green sledge that dripped from their eyes or mouth. Those ones were rabid and infected with the black mold. If you ate them, you'd go insane. It was a time of discovery, because no one in the beginning knew the effects of eating those poor critters. I heard a man down the road lost his mind and tried eating his wife. I don't know how true it is, but I didn't want to take any chances. So I made sure to steer clear of any odd-looking animals just to be safe. With the fear of the mold and crazed animals, resources became limited,

and the stores barely had any reserves. Now being alone with barely any money, I couldn't really get any provisions from the market in town. But I was smart and had a basement full of preservatives and pickled vegetables. Due to the famine and such, I made sure to eat them sparingly. To save on the food that was stored in jars, I did take to looking for a way to trap healthy animals for the protein. Not being much of a trapper myself, this was a bit of a struggle. However, it was easier than expected to catch a few squirrels and raccoons when they came around.

One of these critters was already infected, so I had to toss it out. This was a mistake, though, because the neighbor's dog ended up eating it. I guess I should have either burned it or buried it. I would soon pay for that mistake. That was a terrifying night, nearly having a heart attack. The damn thing busts through my window and tried to eat me. The crazy mutt ripped right into my leg. Take a look. I still have a nasty scar from it.

Hideous sight, ain't it? When it latched onto my leg, I panicked and hit it upside the head. That briefly stunned the animal long enough for me to run into the main room and grab Ronald's old rifle. He only showed me how to shoot it once, so I was nervous about firing it. The dog crept in on shaky legs. A long trail of green mucus fell from those nasty teeth. There were polyps and other disgusting tumors that littered its body. Some pulsed and spewed gut-wrenching fluids that smelled like death.

I swear I could hear its heartbeat as it got closer. The thing lunged at me and I closed my eyes, then pulled the trigger. The sound made my ears ring, but I got lucky and hit it. Upon opening my eyes, I saw the blood and brains of the animal all over my walls. The head completely exploded. Weird, writhing black insects squirmed out of the crude opening of what was once its skull. They fell from the opening and wriggled to the spaces in between the floor planks and fell through the cracks. Smoke rose from the pungent blood that almost looked like tar.

The dog's legs twitched and sent me into a panic. I gripped the gun and shot it one more time. After that, I buried the body out back and spent hours cleaning up the mess. I learned real quick how to use that gun afterwards, making sure to have it on me at all times. Crazed animals with those growths continued trying to attack me, which ended up leaving a literal pile of dead critters. Eventually I had to burn them in a large fire pit out back. It got worse when the neighbors started trying to come after me.

The worst was Sheila Evans. Her haggard shape and jerky steps scared the dead. dickens out of me when I was sitting on my porch. She screamed at me, but it sounded like a dying wolf or something. Her eyes were gone and all that was left was vacant holes, and these strange ropes of blue material were there. They swayed back and forth like a group of earthworms. Her teeth were gone, replaced by what I can only be described as insect pincers. You know like what beetles have in the front of their heads? The sides of her mouth were cracked, flesh split all the way up to her ears. When she screamed, it opened up wide to show her spine behind that disgusting purple

tongue littered with yellow boils. The worst part was when she bent over and started galloping towards me on all fours. Large talons had grown over her fingers. A mass of waving tentacles burst from her back. They flailed in the air, sending a sound that resembled a distorted wind chime. Her speed was inhuman, and I surprised even myself when pulling the trigger to land a shot right into her skull. It only slowed the deformed woman down, so I hate that. I hate that. I hate that. I hastily unloaded a few more shots until she fell limp. As I approached, Sheila was breathing heavily and leaking a fluid that looked like oil. She stunk of rot, and then her head snapped towards me.

A mucus of red escaped that horrifying mouth and hit my face. Some of the remnants landed right on my tongue. The taste sent me into a world of disgust accompanied by a fit of blind rage. Without thinking, I took the butt of the gun and bashed her head in until I heard a loud crack. Once the body ceased moving, I doused it in gasoline and let it. it burned ash. What's that? Oh, heavens no, we were never friends, so I didn't feel too bad.

But then again, I doubt Sheila ever wanted to become something so macab. Don't you worry, child? She's in a much better place. I'm glad you decided to finally chime in. Are you hungry? No? Well, that's all right. I'll make you something when you're ready.

Now the famine continued like this for almost an entire year. During that time I had to end countless animals in about eight townsfolk. All of them resembled with poor old Sheila. had turned into, and towards the end, I started getting strange cravings. I had found a pack of dead possums near my trash can, and I don't know what came over me, but I ate them. It was like some animalistic hunger came over me, and I couldn't hold back. Something about the smell of expired meat and their soiled fur. It just sent a terrible hunger in my stomach. I'll tell you, raw meat takes a lot of effort to chew. It's even worse when

you're trying to tear it from the bone with your teeth. Tends to be a little easier when the meat has been rotting for a week or two. And, oh boy, do the clumps of hair hurt when you try to pass them on the toilet. Oh, dear, I apologize. Talking like that isn't very ladylike. So sorry, dear. Huh? Oh, no, I never went and tried eating a neighbor.

I'm no cannibal. Just the occasional rotten rodent. The debtor, the better was my motto back then. But I tried to eat the corpses before the maggots began squirming around the spoiled meat. Those damn creepy crawlies taste way too much like almonds. And I absolutely despise almonds. almonds. So usually I would brush them off before eating the pieces of meat with that green shimmer and sickly sweet scent. After the famine finally ended, it seemed like I saw less and less

of those random dead critters. This meant I had to teach myself how to eat normal cooked food again. It took some time, but eventually I trained my body back to normalcy for the most part. But I'll tell you a secret. Sometimes I'll go out and shoot a squirrel or raccoon and leave their body out for a while. Let them bake in the sun until they're good and bloated, then have myself a nice little snack. It's like a delicacy. After the gases in the body make it expand, that's when the savory flavors really bubble to the surface. Maybe if you're good, I'll bring you a slice of some spoiled raccoon liver. I believe I have a few scraps left from the last time I did that. No? Well, suit yourself. So, are you ready for your lunch yet, dearie? You should eat something. Don't starve

yourself now. Okay, then, I'll check back on you later. You just relax and try to get some rest. quite tired. How are we this morning, dearie? Oh, that's not too bad. You must not have gotten much sleep. Calm down, calm down. I'll get you some water. There you go. Oh, why would you do that? Such a rude boy. I didn't want to have to do that, but you forced my hand. That slap is mild compared to what I did to the last person who spit in my face. Oh, don't you get that tone with me? You're going to sit there and listen. There, since you want to be such a problem, you're going to sit there with that sock in your mouth. Keep it up and I'll get a switch. This story will be a lesson of what happens when you disrespect a lady.

Hopefully you learn something from it. Hush, ain't no sense in trying to talk. If you stay calm and quiet, then maybe I'll take the sock out and let you speak. But you'll have to earn that privilege. Now then, I'll start the tale. In my later years after the loss of Ronald and my sweet angel Anton, I longed for companionship. My books were open as was my heart, so I went searching for love once again. The first attempt was not the greatest.

He was nice enough, but he was. He was too handsy. I'm a modest woman and not accustomed to neckin on the first date. Well, this fellow was. I believe his name was Hank, no, Harry. Oh, my, this old brain of mine. Age tends to creep up on you when you least expect. Oh, Harold.

Harold Divine was his name. He held the persona and image of a true gentleman when I first met him. I would learn his true nature during our third date. He took me to dinner and we went on a drive to the peak of Pestil and Sil. We sat and viewed the blood moon in the sky. We kissed, but then this man tried to. to put his hands all over me. I wouldn't stand for that and demanded he stopped. After the third attempt to get his hand under my blouse, I slapped him across the face.

This led to a scuffle that ended with me getting a busted lip and his eye being jabbed by one of my nails. He screamed and cursed. He lunged forward, his body hovering over me as he began to squeeze my throat while calling me a cunt. Such a nasty word. So I threw my knee into his groin as I began to see stars. He jerked back, cupping his crotch. That's when I pulled the knife out of my purse. a habit I picked up from the time of the famine. I took that blade and then slid it across his throat. Some bitch deserved it in my opinion. I watched him cry while clutching his open neck.

He bled out all over his fancy button-up shirt. After he finally died, I put the car in neutral and pushed it towards the cliff. Huh? All right, well, you've been good so I suppose I can remove the sock and let you speak? Well, yes, I did. I know I'm small, but I was able to do it. It helped that where we were parked was on a downward slope. So eventually gravity took hold, and Harold rolled down to the woods below with his snazzy car.

Don't look at me like that, he tried to kill me. I'll be damned if I allow that. So I took him out first. Stop interrupting and let me finish. Disrespectful boy. You don't want that sock back in your mouth, do you? That's what I thought. A month after, the sheriff found Harold's body. I was being escorted around town by the most handsome farmer in Azizel Pines. He was a lumbering giant of a man by the name of Bartholomew. He purported. proposed to me countless times, but I kept refusing. The time didn't feel right. I wasn't ready to be married all over again, at least not at that point in time. I did fancy him, but I was in no rush to get hitched, especially to someone outside of the bloodline. But all the other men and the family were spoken

for. This meant I had limited options. Anyway, Bartholomey treated me like a queen and never tried to hike up my skirt, so to speak, such a gentleman. However, I later caught him swap and spit with old Susie Lombar, the town harlot, but her honeypot dipped by many a men. I caught them in the act in the alley near Bielzebub's tavern. I started them with my approach, and Bartholomew tried to bold-faced lie to me. When I berated him, he spat in my face and called me a jealous winch. I saw red and as if controlled by pure rage, I attacked him. The surprise of my attack caused him to fall. I beat his face until my fists throbbed. I then took out of one of my heels and pummeled him. The sharp end of the footwear stuck deep in his eye. This caused him

to shriek, and behind me, Susie screamed, then fled. I got up and tackled her. There's no way I's letting this whore get away. In the struggle of our fight, she tried to crawl away. I believe I heard one of her nails snap off in the asphalt. She put up some resistance, but there was no chance of escape, especially after having her nasty, thin lips on my Bartholomew. I hit her continuously, and eventually I stood up and stomped on her head until I heard a sickening crack. I tell you, my foot swollen for weeks after that. I may have broken something because it has never felt right since. To this day, it still hurts to walk, and that was almost 25 years ago. Being that I couldn't just let the carnage be left for someone to discover and fingers being pointed at me, I ran to the butcher

shop down the street and asked for help. I spun a tale of Susie getting hansy with Bartholomew and assaulting me before turning on him. I told the sheriff that Bartholomew lost control while defending me, accidentally killing her. Well, Susie was buried back in the cramped cemetery on in Park. Bartholomew, on the other hand, was hanged for his assault and murder. Apparently, I didn't kill him after stabbing his eye with my high heel. My heart broke watching that poor man swing from a rope, his legs twitching in that awful sound of his neck snapping. I cried myself to sleep for weeks. But then one day I got a bright idea. My heart fell for him, and I could make a mind due to my hesitance. But I was finally ready to settle, and he was the one. So I scrounge through my grandmother's

things that were kept in a large trunk up in the attic. I took some time. time sorting through the vials, bags, and countless tomes, but eventually I found that special black book of hers. I scanned the pages until I found the chapter on resurrection. In order to do the spell correctly, I had to wait for a hunter's moon, which gave me about five days. In that time, I had to sacrifice my neighbor's stallion to the demon bow, drain the blood from a venomous snake and stored under my bed, eat a raw heart from a toad amongst other things. Those details aren't that important to the story. What? Oh yes, this is all true. Crazy. Of course not. I am many things, but a liar is not one of them, dearie.

The most important part of this ritual is making sure to have these things done in time of the celestial event and dig up Bartholomew in order to bring them home. I was able to get what I needed just one day before the hunter's moon. Let me tell you, digging out the earth of a fresh grave is not as easy as it sounds. Neither is trying to remove the body either. Good thing I had a rope in the bed of Ronald's old pickup. I was able to tie up the body, attach it to the bumper, and pull them out of that hole. I won't get into the full details, but after some time and effort, I was able to bring my love home. I followed the directions and spoke the incantations properly within the allotted time. I went to bed with a corpse on my living room floor. I woke up the next morning to find Bartholomew

alive and chomp it down on a dead deer he had brought inside. The mess took some time to clean, and the revived man did try to attack me. But thanks to my grandmother's book, I was able to create a dust to make him compliant. A little handful blown in the brute's face and he became open to suggestions. at least enough to lure him into the basement. The chains held well and kept him in place. We had a glorious relationship while it lasted. Although he couldn't talk beyond the grunts and screams, he was still the man I fell in love with.

He just smelled a little different and a tad bit more aggressive. I didn't let that ruin the time we had together. We made love every night right over there where that bed is in the corner. Now, don't give me that look. It's completely natural. Don't act so disgusted. Anyway, I eventually became pregnant, but sadly the child inside of me didn't really. make it. None of them did. I don't know if you saw the crosses in the front yard or not.

Those are all the children, Bartholomew and I lost during our time together. After the fifth attempt, we gave up on trying to start a family. I didn't read the fine print on the resurrection page and soon learned that even though revived spiritually, Bartholomew's body was still dead. This meant he continued to decay over time. He was losing limbs and becoming more and more ravenous in an attempts to get free and bite me. Sadly, I had to put him down after he escaped his restraints and tried to kill me. two shots to the head and my sweet farmer could finally rest in peace. After burning his body, accepted that love was lost to me.

Since then, I have lived a solitary life, tending to my garden, occasionally cooking the animals I catch in the traps, just keeping them myself. But then you came along. And what a blessing if I do say so myself. You are a spitten image of my late Ronald, and yet your eyes resemble Bartholomew's. It's as if the universe sent me another chance at happiness,

combining the men who stole my heart when I was young, The moment you came to my door, I knew love was not lost. Oh, stop it, there's no need to get all riled up, dearie. Just hold still. The more you struggle, the worst it's going to be. What? How dare you? Don't ever call me such a name.

Stop fighting, acting like this will not get you out of those chains. And I damn sure won't let you out of this basement while acting in such a crude manner. Just relax, my love. Hold still and give Mabel a kiss. Oh, you son of a bitch. What kind of animal bites a lady's lip? Bastard. Oh, well, you didn't want to listen and now look at you.

Sitting there bleeding out like a stuck pig. All you had to do was behave and let me love you, but no, you had to act out in such a horrible way. Forced my hand to jab this knife in your chest. Ugh, what a waste. No worry. I've got plans for you, young man. I'll be back after you bleed out with my grandmother's book. This time I'll make sure to read the fine print, maybe find a better resurrection spell.

Don't want you falling apart with me like Bartholomew. For our second story this evening, a man's secret. refuge from his chaotic life by tubing down a familiar river, only to find himself swept into uncharted waters and forced to confront mysterious and treacherous currents. Creepy presents, tubing my troubles away, written by known of consequence and narrated by Owen McCune. I truly believe we all need to unplug every once in a while. One of the things I like to do is grab my inner tube and head down to the river. Right now, my friend group is going through some intense drama, and of course, everyone wants my opinion or input.

It's all because of this moderately crazy woman in our group that got pregnant, and because of a drunken party we were all at, Carly claims I'm the father. I know that's not true, but I don't have anyone to corroborate my claim and thus ensuing drama. The number of ignored messages and calls accumulating on my phone are astounding. It's nearly gotten to the point where I've almost chucked my phone out the window. Instead, I turn it on Do Not Disturb and use it only for music. I completely ignore the growing number along each icon. Half of them are probably Carly.

I don't have a lot in the way of secrets from my friends, but I've been known to disappear for a weekend without telling anyone. Every time I come back to a barrage of questions and I always give generic answers, never revealing any details. If I did, then everyone would know where I'm headed right now, and I seriously need some time away from this stupid bullshit. There's a decent-sized river that runs along the outskirts of town and is known for being a great tubing destination.

As long as the water level isn't too low, you could drift down for hours on end. This is only one of two reasons why I keep my phone on me as I get out of my truck and get my stuff ready. As I put the floating harness on my ice chest and connected to the inner tube with two ropes, my phone buzzes. When you have your phone on Do Not Disturb, you can designate one or two numbers as emergency contacts that can still get through. Karen, one of my oldest friends and part of the group I'm trying to avoid, is one of those contacts.

Pulling out my phone, I find a message that says, Dude, call me right now! Karen is one of the only ones that's completely on my side in this drama, wholeheartedly believing that I didn't sleep with Carly. But that being said, I still don't feel like talking to anyone. There's a 50% chance that she wants to give me a heads up on the latest of the insanity, but I seriously don't want to hear any of that shit right now. The only way to block even an emergency contact from getting through

is to turn the phone on airplane mode. Thankfully, I have a number of playlist downloaded on my favorite music app, Groov tunes, so network connectivity isn't necessary. After locking my truck, I stow my keys, shoes, socks, a towel, and my phone, and a waterproof backpack that's attached to the inner tube. The Bluetooth speaker is attached to the lid of the ice chest and is playing a playlist at a decent decibel, loud enough that I can hear it, but not so loud that it'll get anyone's attention nearby. Popping open my first beer, I reclined back in the floating tube and let the gentle current take me away. It takes about a half hour to go a mile, and by that time I've started my second beer.

I'm not aiming to get drunk since I plan on driving home afterward. This is actually the first alcohol I've had since Carly started claiming I slept with her. I can't say the same for any of the others, but I've avoided any parties or get-togethers. In fact, this is the longest our friends have gone without seeing me regularly. I try not to think about that, but of course I do. Carly has slept with damn near every guy in our group, so any number of them could be the father. My money's on Jared, the lonely sad sack of the group. He's one of those guys that doesn't get attention from women and is often depressed because he thinks no one will ever love him.

The poor guy's desperate enough that if Carly walked up to him that night and asked if he wanted to bang her, he'd have done it in a heartbeat. Opening my third beer and focusing on the mellow music trying to chill me the hell out, I swallow a drink and let my head lull back. I'm really trying to clear my mind of everything but the sensations against my body, the cold can in my hand and the gentle melody drifting to my ears. It finally starts to happen. The tension in my shoulders begins to ease, and I feel a bit lighter, just a little bit better than I have in days.

With more idle sips of my beer and my body growing more relaxed, I almost dropped my beer in the water. That shouldn't have happened, and as I quickly regain myself, I realized what's changed. Since I was concentrating so heavily on my own body and letting my stress go, I failed to notice the water flow had increased. Well, there's another contributing factor to me missing that change. It's never happened before.

This river's flow has been consistently slow for more years than I can remember, so this sudden quickening pace is out of the ordinary. I've been coming here so long that I can usually glance around and know exactly where I am. The area around me doesn't look remotely familiar, and I twist around to look upstream. Almost 50 yards back appears to be a different river, one that flows into this one, which is just wrong.

There isn't an offshoot for at least 30 miles from my starting point, so what the hell is this? The water's flow is picking up speed, becoming increasingly choppy as the once wide banks start narrowing down. It's like going down some whitewater rapids, but I know there isn't anything this intense in these parts. I'd never be caught dead going down dangerous waters like this, especially in a fucking inner tube by myself.

Forgetting for the moment that this is completely and utterly impossible, I changed my position in the tube and hold on for dear life. I'm having to hold on to the handle so tightly that my knuckles turn white. I still nearly slip off a number of times. The river starts twisting and turning more drastically, and at one point the inner tube crashes right into a large rock protruding from the water. The impact is so hard that it launches me over the tube and rock to splash directly into the water. I go down river without a flotation device of any kind since I don't wear a life preserver while inter tubing.

Bouncing off various rocks, I pick my feet up as high as I can and hold on to them with my hands, desperately trying to avoid getting snagged on something underwater. If that happens, there's a little chance of getting myself free before I drown. Go fucking figure. I try to get my mind off the crazy shit with Carly only to drown in the damn river. My body's getting battered and bruised as I continued to bounce off the rocks that make the water so treacherous. On the upside, I managed to avoid getting caught on something and keep my head above water, for the most part. I do periodically get dunked, but that can't be avoided.

I know trying to get myself to shore as a losing battle through all this, the current's too strong. so I try to ride it out. They can only be a few minutes, but it's the longest minutes of my life, seeming like hours. Eventually, the waters go from utter chaos to oddly calm. Once I come out of the narrow passage

and into a larger area with wide banks, the flow travels outward at least 180 degrees. This reduces the speed to an almost non-existent current, giving me the chance to let go of my legs and stretch my body out to full length. Doing so lets me discover that my feet touch the bottom, and I raise myself up. The water only comes up to mid-chest.

Looking around at my new surroundings, it doesn't look like the water goes anywhere, but this giant circular pool. There's no offshoots for it to continue flowing down that I can see. Perhaps it feeds into an underwater passage or something like that. Trudging my way to the shore, I scanned the water for any signs that my inner tube made it this far. Unfortunately, I don't see anything out of place but me. No ice chest, no waterproof backpack, and no inner tube. Well, fuck, even if I managed to hike my way back up to my truck,

I can't get in or call for help. I'll have to flag down a passing motorist, something that's not easy to do since people don't drive on the nearby road often. What's even worse? I don't have any fucking shoes, just my water socks. Making my way to the bank, the ground starts rising quickly, and before long, I'm in knee-deep water. The trees are tall and ominous as I get closer to them, making it seem a lot darker than it was before the rapids. Either the cloud coverage has got significantly thicker, or it's much later in the day than I thought.

The absolute last thing I need right now is for night to come on. Finally making it to dry ground, I take stock of my surroundings. night or not, I might very well be completely boned here. The trees are very dense, and it'll be hard to get through them, but it's not like I can swim back upstream. Those waters are too treacherous to even come down through. Going up would be a practice in futility. I might as well change my name to Sisyphus and try to push a boulder up a hill for the rest of

my life. Trying to get around the trees is really damn hard. It's not like the ground is nothing but tree roots and grass. there's a shit ton of thorny bushes covering the ground, and if I try to push my way through, I'll get cut up to oblivion before I made it five damn feet. Trying to skirt the edge of the trees along the bank isn't an option either. It's too close to the water's edge,

and the moment I try to walk along it, I slip into the water, and the mud below the surface tries to suck me in. If I try this next to the rapids, I'll either bash my head on one of the rocks, or end up back where I started. Not seeing any feasible options, and I start coming up with the most ridiculous ideas that have passed through a rational mind.

At one point, I even consider swinging from tree to tree above the thorny bushes like a monkey. While that is a really dumb idea, it does get me to look up at the trees. They're very tall and incredibly thick with branches that spread out wide, intermingling with the ones closest. Not seeing a better option, I get to one of those trees not completely covered at the base with those thorny plants and start climbing. Getting up about eight feet, and I walk out on one of the limbs. The trees are so close together that I actually managed to climb between them and start making my way upstream.

I've never been in woods this dense, and if I manage to keep any of my friends after the drama, this will make an interesting story. Though I'm trying my damnedest to have at least two points of contact with the trees, I still slip every once in a while. I've progressed far enough that I hear the rapids below, and when I look to the ground, I can see some of the water. Going a few feet farther, I hear something odd among the sounds of rushing water, like something solid thumping against a rock. Looking down again, I see something other than rocks in water.

My inner tube is caught on a low-hanging branch just above the water. Faster than what's safe, I climbed down and get as close to the water's edge as I can without getting in. I can't reach the damn thing with as far out as it is, but I managed to find a broken branch and hook the rope with it. After nearly suffering from a heart attack when the rope nearly slips off the branch, I managed to pull it in with some considerable effort. Reaching into the backpack still attached to the tube, I get to my phone. Though it's still completely dry, the expensive rectangle took a hell of a beating and is smashed

beyond use. At least my key fobbs seems to be undamaged. and I can finally dry off my feet. Taking the inner tube and ice chest back isn't an option, but I do put the beverages in my backpack. Climbing back up the tree is a little harder with a full backpack, but the change in footwear is most appreciated. After another half hour,

I find a decent place to sit down on a wide branch and rest my back against a trunk. Opening my pack, I reach in for a bottle of water, but my hand encounters a still cold can of beer. Figuring things can't get any worse, I take up the can and pop it open. I down half the can in one go. As I give a satisfied sigh, movement to my left catches my attention. Waring I'm about to discover a venomous snake curled around a branch,

I'm shocked to see a tiny face staring at me. Doing a double take, I look closer and find not only a face, but a head, body, long hair, and... Fuck, are those wings? The tiny figure can't be more than four inches tall, but she looks properly proportioned, as if she were a real person merely shrunken down to action figure size. She's close enough for me to see the natural colors of her clothing, and can even tell that she's pretty normal by human standards.

Think Julia Roberts when she played a fairy, only wearing brown instead of green and sporting black hair. The tiny figure looks at me curiously, and not sure what else to do. I give her a little wave. Her eyes are drawn to the object in my hand, and being the gentleman that I am, I offer her a drink. Do you want some? I asked gently.

She cocks her head to the side, like a dog does when it's trying to understand what you're saying to them. It doesn't take more than that, and with strength I find surprising, she takes the can from my hand. Even though it's as big as her, she lifts it and gulps down about a quarter of the can

before handing it back. Immediately her first, footsteps are staggering, as if she's instantly drunk. Okay, maybe offering a real-life fairy beer wasn't the smartest idea, but it's not like I've been in this situation before. As she leans against a nearby branch, she looks at me in a way that's oddly familiar and kind of disturbing. I've seen a similar look on Carly's face a lot since I've known her, and I decide it's

time to get moving. Downing the last of the open can, I placed the empty in my pack, shoulder the bag, and say to the ferry, it was nice to meet you. I'm way out of my fucking league here, but it doesn't hurt to be polite. Continuing my odd walk through the treetops, I occasionally hear a flutter behind me, like a hummingbird is near. At one point I see the fairy I shared my beer with, but she's not there when I look back a second time.

After 15 minutes or so, I hear even more fluttering. This time when I glance behind me, she's back, but she brought four friends. They're similarly pretty as the original brunette, and as if this couldn't get any stranger. They're all looking at me in a similar manner. The brunette moves over to me and drunkenly lands on a branch near my face. She mimics taking a drink while pointing at me, asking for another beer. Dump found it I reach into my pack and take out the remaining beers. Before I can do anything more, the four new ones swoop in on me and greedily take them from my hands.

You guys enjoy those. I've got to get back to my truck before it gets dark. The five of them sit around in a circle and start chugging the beers like their college kids at a kegher. I double-time it, going faster than what's safe, but wanting to get the hell out of there. I don't know a lot about fairy lore, but I really don't want to find out what those things are capable of

if they decide to gang up on me. It takes another 45 minutes to get back up to the original river, but before I can climb down to, the relatively clear floor of the woods, there's an angry flurry of wings swarming toward me. Looking back, I see a small army of winged figures. Worried that the five female fairies brought more of their sisters or whatever, I realized there are what looks to be male fairies among them. What seriously doesn't bode well for me is that they look seriously pissed off. I scrambled down the tree, but the male fairies fly at me,

hitting me with small blunt objects. A couple of them have some kind of knives because my arms get cut up. The barrage is so unexpected and painful that I lose my grip and fall. After bouncing off a few branches and landing like a sack of potatoes, I lay on the ground looking up. Just as I'm about to attempt to get to my feet, one of the male fairies slams down on my chest, hitting with the force of a strong punch. The rest land around us, and this fucking thing starts muttering at me with angry. tones and irate gestures. I don't understand what it's saying, but he keeps gesturing to a cluster of

fairies, and I realize why. The five that I gave the beer to are all standing with several men holding them up. Clearly, they're all shit-faced, and this guy's pissed at me for getting them drunk. I try to apologize, but when I start speaking, he swipes at my nose with a blade. Oh, fuck this shit. I swing my arm hard at him, knocking him off my chest with enough force to send him splashing into the water. I get to my feet as the collective watch. I'm guessing he was their leader, doesn't emerge from the water. They start swarming me again, and I run as fast as I can upstream as swinging my arms wildly. Sometimes I connect with something solid, and hear a satisfying funk or splash.

One of them even lands on my head and bites my fucking ear. It takes a while, but I eventually fight them off. By the time I make it to my truck, I'm beaten to hell, exhausted, to the point of wanting to pass out and bleeding from all over. I hate to think what I look like right now. Climbing in the cab, I turn the engine on and drive the hell away. I don't speed, but the urge to do so is strong. Just when I get on the highway and head home, my truck plays Karen's ringtone.

Looking to the monitor, I realized my phone's display was smashed beyond repair, and the phone itself still works. deciding that I need to talk to someone about what the hell just happened, I answer. Before I can say more than a word, Karen starts in on me with the usual. Where the hell have you been? Why haven't you returned my calls? I've been trying to get a hold of you for hours. Then she tells me exactly why she messaged me to call her right away. Someone finally came forward about sleeping with Carly that night, and to my surprise, it wasn't Jared. I sit there in silence for a minute, and Karen finally asked,

if I'm going to say anything. I do, but it's not at all what she's expecting. Do fairies have rabies? The bite on my ear kind of burns. For a final story this evening, in an attempt to save a failing marriage, a couple takes a skydiving trip, during which the husband takes stock of what brought them there and what comes next. Creepy presents, Happily Ever After.

written by James Tachinsky. I never thought of myself as an adrenaline junkie or an inherent risk taker, so my reluctance to join my wife on this inane trip was warranted, to say the least. But this was her way of reconnecting. I never knew she was into stuff like this. It's true. You never truly know a person until you live with them. Seriously, though, how the hell this skydiving fix a loveless marriage?

She wanted to rekindle the flame, I guess, since we've been drifting apart. It's gotten so bad that we barely speak to each other. Hell, we barely see each other. If we're in the same room for more than an hour, it always ends up in a heated argument. It wasn't always like this. We've been married for five years, together for six, and it hasn't all been bad. When we were dating, we couldn't get enough of each other. Young and in love.

We were having fun. After a few months together, I decided it was time and heeded my mother's advice, dropping the one knee in the middle of a random party. I popped the question. And that's when she packed up her apartment and moved into my small house. It was the small things at first. Things like how she'd leave a butter knife slathered in her sugar-free jelly, right on the damn counter after covering her low-carb bagel.

Even though the dishwasher is a mere two feet away. Don't strain yourself, Lauren. In the bedroom, now where I sleep alone most nights, her clothes would be thrown everywhere. I'm talking piled on the floor, heaped in the closet, scattered all over the bed, draped over the chair, dirty clothes goddamn everywhere. In the bathroom, it was her hair. Her long, flawless brunette hair that sat still attached to the multicolored hair ties. Also, the hair that filled her hairbrush, which she tossed carelessly under the vanity.

hair in clumps in the sink basin, hair clogging the sink trap, they're freaking everywhere. Ah! Not only that, but a fresh roll of toilet paper would usually be resting atop her hair that carpeted the bathroom counter, leaving the empty cardboard tube on a toilet paper roll for me to change. And if I were to mention anything or ask her to clean up, she'd scoff. Look at me like it was my fault her crap was everywhere, and stomp around the house and her stained sweatpants half-heartedly cleaning.

That's when the arguing started. I just couldn't stand it. She was a goddamn slob. I tried not letting it get to me, but come on! Leaving dishes lying on every surface, all with leftover food encrusted upon them. I have to draw the line somewhere. We talked on one of our good days, and she agreed she tried to get better about cleaning up after herself.

And she did try, at least for a month. That was also the month that we decided it was time to get married. We eloped and officially became Mr. and Mrs. Brady. Oh, what a joyful marriage it's been, too. Not long after getting hitched, she resorted back into her slovenly ways. Then the arguing started. Then it was barely acknowledging each other. Now, we're drifting so far apart, we hardly see each other.

Every weekend she goes on her girl's night out, which most times she doesn't return from until morning. Really? How naive does she think I am? Not that I'm complaining as I lay in the neighbor's bed. The small twin engine turbo prop hits a patch of turbulence sending my stomach to my throat. Let me Lauren's eyes directly across from me while it settles. The roar of the twin props making it impossible to speak.

But I give her a lopsided smile as she mouths the words, I love you. I love you too, sweetheart. I love you so much. I just might. Well, I don't know what I'd do. Maybe her shoot won't open. That'll be great.

Then I'd be able to reap the insurance money. This is your wife you're thinking of. Lauren's eyes bore into me as if she could see exactly what I was thinking, picturing life without her, finally being separated from this woman. The pilot's garbled voice informs us over the intercom that we'll be reaching our jump point in two minutes. My God, my hands are sweating profusely. nervous as hell.

This is utterly crazy. Why the hell am I doing this? Lauren keeps staring at me, watching me as I wipe my hands dry in the olive green jumpsuit. I need to do this just to spite her. My hands find the straps in my parachute and ensure they're undoubtedly cinch tight.

The instructor, Stoner Tyler, has informed us numerous times that skydiving is a very safe sport and not to worry. Just have fun. Easier said than done, shithead. Bad enough, we had to sit through an eight-hour class on all this. Honestly, I didn't even know that you could go skydiving on your own the first time.

I was thought you had to be strapped to someone. Well, Lauren insisted this was the best way to go. It would bring us closer together. Great. A bright amber light located above the rear ramp illuminates, casting a fuselage in a muted glow. The pilot electrically lowers the ramp allowing a torrent of air into the aircraft. Are we really about to do this? A second amber light flicks on, indicating the door has been opened and that we're 30 seconds away from plummeting to the ground.

Lauren and I stand and make our way to rear the airplane. The bile in my stomach threatens to rise while viewing the earth so far below. So now or never, Shane, is it? Glancing to my left, Lauren stands, poised and ready. She reminds me the statue of liberty with her arm raised over her head, firmly grasping the thin leather strap dangling from the ceiling. Her jumpsuit billowing in the rush of air, and her supple red lips spread in a wide grin. She's a portrait of a woman about to be set completely free. Five seconds.

This is insane. I could just go sit back down. She would just love that. Oh, meet my husband. The chicken shit who wouldn't jump from a perfectly good airplane. Four seconds. I have got to do this as much as I don't want to. Three seconds.

My eyes find Lauren's. They plead with her to call this whole thing off. Two seconds. She just stares in me, her mouth and a sidelong smile, and gives me a final wink. One second. The light above our heads glow green and just like that. Lauren disappears into thin air. Shit.

This is crazy. This is crazy. This is crazy. Crazy! Weightlessness takes hold of my insides while the thrumming roar the twin props is replaced by the tumultuous rush of wind over my ears. Remembering what Stoner Tyler told us, I spread my arms and legs to balance myself. Lauren is just beneath me, performing the same aerial maneuver. Tucking in my arms increases my rate of descent and I quickly catch up with her.

Now at her level, I spread my limbs back out to match her speed. After all, we did this together. Always in forever, until death do us part. Right, honey? Her smile silently answering me. For eternity, my love. A panoramic view is absolutely breathtaking. Seeing the earth from this height reminds me of just how small we really are.

I take it all in and inhale a deep breath of pure fresh air. A flash of white upon my wrist grabs. my attention. The altimeter light indicates that it's time to open the parachute. This is going to be exhilarating. I find the circular metal ring of the rip cord and yank. There's my car. A faded blue Subaru parked near the landing pad. The cement, painted with a giant red axe, is growing larger by the second. In my hand is about two feet a cord. Fraid. At the end, at the end, my parachute did not

open oh my god why the hell did my shoot not open this doesn't just fucking happen I knew I should have checked the pack better but no I put too much trust into Tyler the fuckhead stoner who packed it holy shit

what the hell am I going to do wait it's backup court Every parachute pack of the backup cord just in case, well, in case shit like this happens. Frantically, I grew up in my chest in search of the backup cord. My fingers fell on the metal ring just as my heart was ready to literally beat out of my chest. Grasping the ring, I pull with Herculane might. Lauren wraps her arms around my waist while I finish twisting the cap onto her Stanley Cup that she chugs from every day.

Are you ready to go? She asks. Almost, if I tell her, just filling your water for you. With a final squeeze of her arms, she says she'll be in the car waiting. Okay, honey, be right there. I watch her as she walks away. When I know she's gone, I pulled a vial of arsenic trioxide from my pocket. Its contents having been emptied.

Pulling a cloth from the drawer, I cover the vial on the counter. Hoisting the meat tenderizer, from the utility holder, I intend to rid myself of any evidence. The vial smashes easily and silently under the pale yellow cloth. Now, just toss it in the trash. Done. I give the counter one final sweep to ensure no glass remains. Everything cleaned and make my way to the car with Lauren Stanley, all filled for her.

Just like she requested. I can't help but smile as I close the front door knowing she'll be sipping on it all, day while we're on this damn skydiving trip. My eyes home in on the strip of backup cord blowing wildly in the screaming rush of wind as it too pulled easily free from the parachute strapped to my back. My parachute did not open. This is it. This is how it'll all end for me.

In a fucking skydiving accident. Why the hell did this happen to me? I'm sorry, Lauren. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't a better person. I'm sorry I wasn't who you needed me to be. I'm sorry I wasn't a better husband. I'm sorry.

I... Through the tears in my eyes, I catch sight of Lauren, and she sees me watching with those blue eyes I fell in love with so long ago. She raises her hand to that same lopsided grin plastered upon her face and blows me a kiss. Pullering your own rip cord, a bright yellow parachute blots out the sun. Tyler's skydiving

and blazing across it in large block letters Oh, that bitch! 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 Commons share-a-like licensing, or with written consent from the authors.

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