Creepy - My Grandfather Was A Famous Comedian

Episode Date: April 26, 2021

Stop. Laughing!***Written by RyanHatesMilk and narrated by Joe Stofko, Nate Dufort, Steve Blizin, Owen McCuen***Check out our reward tiers at patreon.com/creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/creepypod***Produced by Steve Blizin***Title music by Alex Aldea***Intro/Outro Narration by Joe Stofko Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

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for people to sort through the back catalog and find particular stories. As the podcast has grown, and once we opened up for submissions instead of contacting authors directly, our back catalog of stories to read is grown significantly. so much so that we had to close ourselves to submissions, otherwise we never get through the stories we have. And even doing that, and with narrating four additional stories every week on Patreon, we still have a lot of stories to get through. So?

We're adding another story to our Sunday productions. This will serve three things that I think everyone will really like. First, it'll give us a chance to make sure we can narrate all the stories we've graciously been allowed to narrate from the amazing writers around the world. Second, it'll provide our listeners with even more content. These second stories will be narrated like our Wednesday stories, with little to no effects or music, just a narration for people who prefer the sparse reads. And third, and most importantly for some listeners, ads will no longer appear in the middle of a story.

They'll appear between stories. We've always tried to make our ads as enjoyable as possible as they provide us the revenue to keep going. And to tell the truth, I've never been a fan of having to put the ads in the middle of the show. But that's how the advertisers would get work. and that was a sacrifice to maintain the format and the show. And that's changed. So, for the foreseeable future, possibly to the end of 2021, most Sunday productions will have two stories.

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And no more hearing about my personal grooming habits in the middle of rising tension. That's a completely different kind of tension. The show has always been about the listeners. And I've always tried as hard as I can to provide the best stories and best environment for all. I want to thank you all for listening to the show. I want to thank the patrons for making this happen. They're the ones that are helping us pay the narrators and writers for the extra content. So thank you.

And remember, that starts next week. So be prepared. Now, 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 our simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. Creepy Presents

My father was a famous comedian. I found his final joke. Written by Ryan Hates Milk. With guest narration by Joe Stoffco, Steve Blizzin, Nate Dufort, and Owen McKeown. and produced by Steve Blizzin. I think I was nine when I first found my granddad's teeth. Me and my brother couldn't stop laughing. They came with a little key that you could wind up

and walked around on little feet, chattering together in silent laughter, throws a teeth clacked against each other, and they paraded around in a little circle. I suppose we'd seen them before or comics or TV or something. But somehow having them right in front of us was so much funnier. Johnny set them on the dresser and then pushed aside some little thimbles that had belonged to our grandmother before she passed away.

One thimble fell off, clattering to the floor and we both erupted with whoops of laughter. But it didn't last long. What the hell are you? Our granddad began as he stormed into the room. I knew he'd be mad. I'd been on the wrong side of my granddad's temper before, and whenever grandma was involved, God rest her soul, his anger became tenfold.

He gave me a clip around the ear and pulled Johnny onto his feet. These aren't yours. He snarled, snatching up the teeth and reaching for the thimble. As he bent over, though, he must have hurt his back. He shot out a hand in Winston pain. Johnny's eyes met mine. You know when something's funny because it shouldn't be? Well, to me and Johnny, right then and there, it was hilarious.

We both sniggered into our hands and got our heads bumped together by our granddad. He could be a mean old bastard when he wanted to be. The teeth got locked away, and I picked up the thimble for him, which was promptly placed back in its precise position. For a comedian, granddad sure is miserable. I said to my dad when we were safely in the car out of earshot. My head's still hurt from where he'd slap me. Johnny was pouting too.

None of it seemed as funny now. Well, he's not a comedian anymore. Hasn't been for a long time. My dad said as we pulled away from my granddad's drive. He adjusted his wing mirror. People change. He wasn't always so grumpy, you know. I don't think I've seen him smile since her grandma passed away.

That's why he got mad, said Johnny, rubbing the front of his head where we've been unintentionally head-butted. We knocked off Grandma's thimble, but it was an accident. I've never even seen Granddad's smile, I said, folding my arms. He's just a grumpy old fart. That made my dad chuckle. I suppose he is, but he used to be different. You know, I never met anyone who could make me laugh like your granddad could. He's never made you laugh.

I protested. He used to. My dad said. Used to make me laugh until my belly hurt. Like I say, people change. But for me and Johnny, we never saw granddad change. As we grew up, he just stayed the same. Grouchy, quick to anger, boring.

How he was ever a fun-loving comedian completely. eluded us. He was family, sure, and I suppose we loved him in our own way. But whatever love we had for him never felt returned, even in the smallest way. Neither of us looked forward to going round to see him, not like our other grandparents on mom's side. As it became more and more decrepit, it only became more of a chore. As children, we'd entertained ourselves, but as adults, trying to have a conversation with the man was like trying to draw blood from a stone. It wasn't just me either. Our whole family slowly became less patient with how much of a liability granddad had become.

Even at Johnny's wedding, he was miserable. Sat at a table all in his own. All those kind souls wanting to keep an elderly gentleman company quickly found some excuse to leave, shaking their heads as they did. Eventually, as his body began to fail him, them. Discussion turned to, what to do about Granddad. He can no longer look after himself or his house, and increasingly frequent visits were

really starting to take their toll on my father. Mom refused to go around anymore, after one insult or another hurled her way, became the final straw. Nobody else would see him. Me and Johnny tried to help all where we could, but only for Dad's sake. And every single time, Granddad would make you feel like that. the biggest asshole in the world for trying to help. He'd moan about everything, insult our entire extended family,

accused us of stealing or trying to squeeze into his will. Even sitting down, trying to watch TV with him was an effort. We'd channel hop and he'd tell me why every single option was terrible and he'd rather turn it off. Then when it was off, he'd complain about being bored. Right in the middle of a conversation. Whenever I left, I had to fight the urgent. to slam the goddamn door.

So I hope you won't feel bad of me when I say it was almost a relief when the day finally came to put Grandad in a home. It was a nice one, if that makes it any better. One of those that comes with a brochure. Dad had to sell Granddad's house to scrape together the money to pay for it. But the sale would make sure Grandad was comfortable in living in moderate luxury for his remaining days. Not that he appreciated any of it, mind you.

It's never nice when someone loses their independence and has to be confined to a retirement home. But this place had its own bistro restaurant, a swimming pool, even a bloody spa. Granddad would bitch and moan about being forced into this hellhole. That was nicer than most holiday resorts had been to. It's hard to feel sympathy for the man. He also turned out to be something of a celebrity amongst the other residents. Oh, look at that. It's Eric Diddley. A toothless old man exclaimed to me the first time I went to see Grandad.

He nudged me with a bony elbow. You remember here, don't you? Yeah. I sat with a little laugh as I pulled out a chair on my granddad's table. He was sad alone, I noticed. He's my granddad. Saw me 75. Never laughed so hard in my life.

Diddley Diddley, diddy. He curled the gnarled finger as he said it. I didn't know what he was referring to, but whatever it was, it snapped my granddad out of his sulky silence. Piss off, you old prune. He barked. The toothless old man's smile drooped a little. Yeah. Well, it's not so funny now, though, is he?

I said, piss off. My granddad snapped, hunching his chair to angle himself slightly away from the toothless man. It was comical in its own way. These two old men bickering like toddlers. But it didn't bode well for my visit. Small talk always soured quickly with Granddad, and it looked like he was already in a fall mood.

Arms folded and wrinkled features twisted. Hi, Grandda... It was all I managed before he cut me off. I don't know why you bother coming here. I wish you'd all just let me die. I had not even said, down. I cleared my throat and tried to reassure him that nobody wanted that.

I didn't know whether I was trying to convince him or myself. He didn't buy it either way and resumed his frosty silence. Looks like you've got some fans here? I tried. Rodgers, a lot of them. A chorus of dilly Dee came from the table next to us with a ripple of childish giggles from the elderly residents. Well, you're still making them. laugh. That earned a dismissive huff, which typically meant that particular threat of conversation

was over. But I was curious and didn't want to spend my visit set in silence. What's that diddley-D thing they're all saying? I asked. Setting his jaw, Granddad's only response was a slight adjusting of his shoulders. Look, it's obviously bothering you, I said, trying a different act. Tell me about it. Granddad's lips pursed And he sighed a deep breath Before meeting my eyes Used to make props and things

Part of my act One of them was this little finger It waggled and said Diddley Dee in a stupid little voice Echoes of Diddly D struck up at some of the tables around us Whatever it was It obviously found it amusing

To remember it after all these years I tried telling my granddad this But he wasn't having it It was always the stupid ones people drank up the most, and the ones that were actually genius got overlooked. Do Do Do Do Do Do Do Diddley D, they'd say. A ten-year-old joke may have me doing it every night. The joke isn't funny when you hear it ten times, or a hundred. Imagine a thousand.

Do Diddley Dee! Do Diddley Dee! My granddad said in a bitter impersonation of his fans. For the first time, I got a glimpse into his perspective. A one-trick comedian who got outshined by his act. An old memory leapt out at me. I remember one of your props, I said with sudden enthusiasm. Those wind-up dentures. Me and Johnny found them when we were kids.

Some flicker of recognition passed my granddad's eyes before they went dull again. He nodded. My false teeth. Last prop I ever made. Those dentures actually belonged to my phone. your great granddad. I finally earned enough money in my act to afford a proper pair for him. The real deal, so they said.

Well, he had one meal and choked a death on his food. Granddad shook his head, and his wrinkled eyes welled up. For the first time that I could remember, I felt genuine pity for the man. Always blamed myself. He said into his lap. His arms unfolded and dropped to his sides. You try to do something good in this world, and it just bites you in the arse. I reached out to touch his arm.

That wasn't your fault, Granddad. Just a horrible accident. He nodded, but I could tell it didn't change the way he felt. Before his funeral, we got the dentures back. We couldn't get a refund. They were custom-made, but the morticians said some people kept him as souvenirs. Well, that did make me laugh. Souvenirs, the murder weapon that killed my dad,

propped up on a shelf somewhere. Oh, I figured maybe I could put him to some use. Make people laugh. Figured that'd be something. So, I started working on my false teeth. Poured my soul into it. After a while, I even started seeing the funny side. The irony of it all.

After years of soft foods, my old man could finally chew. his food, but died trying, face down and a half-finished steak dinner. He'd always said, if he was ever on death road, that would be his last meal. I spent days making him, welding bits together, fixing all the little mechanics. Sometimes I'd just start laughing, and then not be able to stop. Jokes would bubble to the surface of my mind, and I couldn't shake him loose. Kill them with kindness. The last supper. The last "'Truth's being hard to swallow. "'I don't even remember finishing those teeth, to be honest. "'I just woke up and there they were.

"'Finished. "'But as I wound them up and watched my dad's teeth rattle around on the table, "'suddenly it wasn't funny anymore. "'Nothing was. "'I've never found anything funny since.' "'Grandad trailed off and I realized I've been holding my breath, leaning forward. noise seemed to flow back into the room as the magic of the story melted away. I tried to think of something to say, but nothing came.

Eventually, Grandad said, You can go if you want. I know I'm a burden. No, I'm staying. Grandad, this is the most we've ever talked about something. Why haven't you ever told me this before? He shrugged, and I could tell he was barely listening. eyes downcast, lost in thought. I'm going to get us something to drink, and you can tell me about your other props.

Not that one, not the finger either. The good ones. Grandad looked up at me then. After a moment, with a hoarse voice, he said, I'd like that. I rose from my seat and asked him what he wanted, looking towards the nearby cafe. He said coffee, before grabbing my sleeve and hissing. But make it an Irish.

At first, I thought he was joking. But I stopped chuckling when he pressed a key into my hand and shot glances at the nearby carers. When he was sure they weren't looking, he whispered. I got a hip flask in my room. It's inside the globe. Bring it out before you get the drinks. I don't want my coffee going cold.

Now, if any of the nurses ask, you tell them that you're getting me a magazine. I decided not to ask how the hell my granddad was managing to smuggle in, liquor. He resented the carers more than the residence, and he hated the residence. He hated everyone, as far as I could tell. Still, this was the first time I'd ever had anything close to a connection with the man, and I wasn't about to ruin it now. Besides, he was a grown man. If he wanted a drink, who was I to object? He was in a care home, not a prison. I gave him a curt nod, and walked out of the dining hall.

It didn't take long for me to find his room. Everything was signposted so clearly that even the partially blind and deranged could find their way. This place could have passed for a luxury hotel. I passed a library, a fitness class, and a couple old chaps and wheelchairs playing chess. Not a bad way to see out your final days, I thought. Granddad's room was just as pleasant and grandiose,

well furnished with lacquered oak cabinets and a huge window looking out over the pristine landscaped gardens. I quickly spotted the globe my grandfather had told me about. A golden sphere of her world hinged at the equator. It was inside a glass front of display cabinet, besides some familiar-looking thimbles lined up in a neat little row. Flicking the brass clasp of the globe, I lifted the northern hemisphere, revealing a hidden compartment.

Granddad's hip flask was inside, along with two half-finished bottles of scotch. As I lifted out the hip flask, I noticed the small key, and then didn't think anything of it until I saw a tin box beside the thimbles. No way, I muttered to myself, reaching for the box. It was the same one we found the false thief in all those years ago. Locked, but with a hole just about the right size for the little key I'd found in the globe, I tried it out of curiosity and the key worked, unlocking the box with a mechanical click. Telling myself, I'd just have a little peek. I lifted the lid, and sure enough, my grandad's wind-up dentures were tucked snugly inside.

His false teeth. I couldn't help but grin like a Cheshire cat. And soon enough, I was chuckling at the old memory of me and Johnny, winding them up and watching them parade around. Dentures click clacking together. That's when the idea struck me. It would be hilarious to bring them out, show them to Grandad and the others. He said nobody ever appreciated his other props, and this was surely one of his greatest. It was clearly making me laugh, even if it was mostly from nostalgia.

I scooped him out and stuffed them in my pocket, with the hip flask in the other, shut the box and globe, and headed back down the hall towards a cafe. All the way down the corridor, little giggles over. burst out of me as I imagined my granddad's reaction. I couldn't wipe the stupid smile off my face, and as people's eyes drifted over to me, it just made it so much funnier. I must have looked like an idiot, and seeing people's confused expressions just made it harder to keep my own face straight.

I'd managed it by the time I got to the cafe, though. I knew I had to play a deadpan to get the best reaction out of Grandad, so I suppressed my amusement as best I could. Coffee first. I made a show of considering my options in the queue, but really I was just trying to hide my smile, smothering it with a hand. Once I was first in line, I took my time with the order, weighing up each option slowly. Just a little joke to amuse myself, really, and I felt my lips twitch at the edges when an old man behind me dramatically checked his watch inside. Got some more to be?

I asked him and bit my tongue to stop myself from bursting with laughter right then and there. The thought of these old people in a rush to live out their final days struck me as cartoonishly comical. But I wrestled with myself to keep it all bottled inside. I didn't want to ruin the joke. The big reveal. Sorry, I muttered, frowning to myself. That was actually quite rude, what I'd done. The old man's narrowed eyes and the tuts that drifted from others and the queue I actually managed to straighten my expression.

I collected our coffee and walked over to Granddad's table. table. Top of the morning, I said in a squeaky voice, wiggling the cup as I passed it to my granddad. When he looked at me with a blank expression, I pointed at his drink and said, It's an Irish... Irish coffee, yeah. He said in a grating voice, cutting me off. Give me the flash, will you?

He was too intent on the flask to see my widening smile. Once he taken it, he immediately glanced over his shoulder and began unscrewing the cap. whilst he was distracted, I gripped the dentures and wound them around a few times. That's not the only thing I found. I said, unable to keep from smirking openly. With all the flourish of a magician, I dropped the dentures onto the table and boomed loud enough for the whole room to hear, Your false teeth! As soon as the dentures hit the table, they began to waddle in a tight circle on their feet,

hinged at the jaw. they gnashed together, so trying to eat an invisible celery stick and quick little bites. Grandad's eyes went so wide I thought they might pop. All the laughter had been holding down erupted from me in a great belly laugh, and by now everyone in the room had turned to look at the commotion. No! Granddad screamed and lunged forward with wrinkled hands outstretched, but the table was too big, and he couldn't reach from his seated position.

As he landed on the table, the impover of the impover of the input. pack made the teeth jump in the air ever so slightly, pushing them even further out of reach. It was also slapstick I had to clutch my sides of stuff from doubling over. Murmors of concern rose up around us, and the thought of how this must look to all those old codders only made me laugh even harder. No, Kyle, please. My granddad pleaded, slumped over the table like a beached whale. You need to put them back. You have to put them back.

He clawed himself up, wensing and peasant. pain, forcing himself to stand despite old injuries. It was hilarious. Little peals of amusement began to drift from the table's closest to us. Chuckles and giggles. The teeth walked until they toppled off the edge of the table, bounced on the carpet floor, landing upside down, little feet wiggling in the air. They got a throaty laugh from a nearby chap, who pointed his walking stick at the teeth and nudged

his neighbor in the ribs. You don't understand what you've done. My granddad bellowed, stomping towards the teeth with desperate intent, gripping the table for support. Where's the tin? We need to put them back in the tin. Struck by sudden inspiration, I saw an opportunity and took it. With both hands, I pressed down on my end of the table with all my strength, forcing it down on my side and springing my granddad's side in the air. The quick shift caught him off balance and he toppled like a sack of bricks landing on his hip. Pain etched across his face and I slapped my thighs and I'm able to stop the eruption of laughter.

It was perfect comedy. I got a mixed reaction from those around us though. The closest ones all turned to each other and began chuckling. But I heard some from across the room take a sharp intake of breath or cry out. Some of the carers even crossed the room to help my granddad. Tough crowd. The chap with a walking stick though. He got it.

and all the commotion he picked up the false teeth and was now setting them on his table. They resumed their laugh, silently chattering away, waddling comically, and now the whole table was laughing appreciatively. As my granddad was pulled to his feet by the carers, he made despair and grabbing motions for the teeth, wincing his pain as he put all his weight on his leg. Please, anyone, we have to stop it. We need to stop it quickly. The hopeless urgency in his voice even had the orderly's laughing now.

great whoops of laughter from the table around the dentures and spread out in great ripples that surround the audience I slapped the table pounded it and wiped tears from my eyes as I watched my granddad limp around the table trying to catch the little walking teeth he was so slow they actually managed to outrun him Kyle he pleaded Kyle please somebody help me please

I was crying now begging What a performance! The whole room was in on the joke. A woman on the table cackled, a head rolling back, and all the old folks around her pointed at her, laughing even harder. Someone snorted and fell off his chair laughing. It was the funniest thing I've ever seen. Just as my granddad was about to reach the teeth,

one of the cares snatched them up and held them out of reach, dropping them onto another table. She poked her tongue out at my granddad and held both hands up to her ears wiggling her teeth. fingers. Those were all my granddad blue raspberries had and put their thumb to their nose gave taunting gestures. My granddad saged on the table, hopelessly lost, looking at all the smiling faces around him as if searching for an answer that wasn't there. Well, it was too much for me to take. I buckled at my knees, pounding the floor with a vis of great barks of laughter

leapt out of me. I wasn't the only one. A man with no legs slid from his wheelchair, top of to the floor. Well, that was just as hysterical. And the whole room pointed at this latest joke, sides, splitting, and ribs tickling. The legless man was laughing hardest, I think. That's what made it so funny. You can't beat a good, clean gag.

The funnier I found that the more everyone around me laughed was contagious. My throat rasped with it. Chest, even, eyes, water, I'm barely able to draw breath between each boat of involuntary laughter. I couldn't stop. Stop. Somehow it made it even funnier. Someone put their hands on me and pulled me onto my feet.

I was last being so hard I could barely stand. He was my granddad, face intense, still crying. I gestured at him with a room around me and pulled a smirking face as if to say, get a load of this guy. Great audience. It spread from me like electricity. I didn't even need words to communicate anymore. They just, just as well.

I couldn't have told a joke if I'd have been. couldn't have told a joke if I'd wanted to. I couldn't have stopped laughing. And that would have just made me laugh even more. My granddad was saying something to me, shouting in my ear, but I couldn't hear him with a deafening roar of chuckles, hoots, cackles and giggles, shrieks of laughter, howls of it,

great, trembling peals that would not stop. He shoved me, pained step after pained step, and I was laughing too hard to stop him. All eyes were honest, the main attraction, and with fun, little side shows at the tables around us. One old battered collapse on the table, all the breaths squeezed out of her, dead as a dodo. As my old little grandfather pushed me out to the hall, the door flapped shut behind him,

muffling the noise enough to hear him. Go, Kyle, please, you have to get out of here. I could really appreciate what a hoot it was back in that dining hall. The laughter bounced off the walls, a true comedy club. That was where I wanted to be. And I took staggered footsteps back towards. to double doors. But with surprising strength, my granddad forced him back.

Well, that was funny. Me, in the prime of my life, my granddad acting like the bounce of his own show, I clutched my sides unable to stop him from pressing me further down the hall. Go! He roared, teeth bared with the effort. Despite being tickled by it all,

sure enough, I soon found myself kicked out of the show. My granddad shut the retirement home doors behind me and slid a walking stick between the two handles, holding them shut with him on the inside. Some of the crowd had spilled out of the cafe now, rolling about the corridor, leaning on each other. Their faint laughter barely making it through the entrance doors. Go, go home! My granddad's cracked voice was dampened by the glass, but I just made him out over the noise behind him. Now there was an idea.

Mom and Dad would love this. I could bring old family. It'd be a family show after all. My throat rasped, but I was still laughing to myself, almost horse now. I wiggled a finger at my granddad. Oh, there's an idea, that finger said. Someone behind him got it and shot one back in me before collapsing onto the floor. Staggering to my car, ribs hurting, I clambered inside, still clutching to myself.

Just out my windscreen, I could see my granddad, sagging into the doors, clamping them shut. The old folks home at a doorman. I barked out a laugh and shook my head, turning the keys in the ignition. The only laughter I could hear now was mine. I turned the radio off to really appreciate it. It was still funny, all of it. And it only got funnier as I met my granddad's eyes. Grim determination plastered on his face.

Such a stark contrast to the faces around him twisted and glee. Some with their arms draped around his shoulder. All heaving and writhing and laughter I couldn't. I couldn't hear. My grandfather, the great comedian, the only one not laughing at his greatest joke. Well, that did make me chuckle. All the way home, giggles, a laughter would slip out for me, sloshing over my edges. My cheeks were in agony, and it seemed to hurt more and more as I drove.

My whole body hurt, actually. All my abdominal muscles were cramped, torn where I'd been tensing, doubled over laughing. And it wasn't funny. Was it? In fact, as the last trickle of amusement left me, just a little huff out my nose, none of it seemed funny at all. Grandad had been crying, and I'd hurt him.

I'd caused all of it. A woman had collapsed. Because of me. Because of me, I stopped the car in the middle of the road. What the hell had I done? Why would I even bring those teeth out to my granddad? I knew we hated them. All those people still in there, laughing themselves to death.

I turned the car around. I had to go back. Somehow I knew I had to help. Save my granddad to save all those people. But as I turned back through pristine hedgerows flanking the retirement home drive, I was accompanied by flashing lights and wailing sirens. The entrance stole. where I'd last seen my granddad were engulfed in flames,

licking around the edges and making it impossible to see inside. Dumping my car out of the way of approaching fire engines, I ran out, leaving my keys in the ignition. With growing dread, I sprinted towards the doors not knowing what I was going to do, just knowing I had to do something. But the heat kept me back, and I still couldn't see inside. Grandad! I screamed.

I howled it over and over, tears. filling my eyes as I ran to the next entrance. Smoke billowed inside, filling the corridor. I tried the handle, but the metal burnt my hand. Someone pulled me back. A fireman, I think. But I wiggled three of them and ran around the building. There had to be another way, and there had to.

When I saw the flames at that one, too, I collapsed to the ground, head in my hands. All the fire escapes were ablaze. The irony almost made me chuckle. but it came out as a sob. I got pulled to my feet by the firemen and drake back to the parking lot. They sat me away from the growing inferno, and I watched them douse the entrance with hoses. They pulled out body after body, and I shook uncontrollably with violent tremors. My fault.

All my fault! Arson, they would tell me later. Someone had purposefully set fire to all the exits. Apparently some medical equipment had been used to start it so quickly, but was a puzzle how the culprit had managed to start it at all the exits without anybody getting out. The alarm hadn't even been raised by anyone inside the retirement home. They'd only been alerted when nearby residents saw the rising plumes of smoke. Not everyone inside had died. Most had just passed out from the smoke, they said.

Luckily, the fire hadn't reached them before the firefighters had made their way inside, and the heat wasn't intense enough to do any major internal damage, at least to most people. Some seem to have died from the stress, though. It was to be expected with people of a certain age, they said sympathetically. My granddad was one of the unfortunate souls that passed away, collapsed near one of the exits. When I tried explaining things, people didn't listen. They all just put it down to shock. Guilt and helplessness mixing with the trauma of losing a loved one.

Nobody believed me. No matter how much I tried to convince them. It didn't help that they couldn't find the teeth, I mentioned. Or the tin box. Delusions, they told me. The mind is a powerful thing and plays tricks on us in ways we can't truly comprehend. My therapist went into great detail to convince me. After long enough, I started to think maybe they were right.

After all, I had no proof. That is, until one day I wore an old pair of jeans had not worn since that fire. I'd washed them to get rid of the burning smell but never checked one of the pockets. Tucked away inside, was a little wind-up key. As I stared down at it, I couldn't help but laugh. For more information, including pictures and videos of the stories told on this story. podcast, please visit creepypod.com. If you'd like to submit a story for consideration or recommend a story, please see our submission page at creepypod.com slash submissions.

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