Creepy - My Wife Was Acting Weird and I Finally Found Out Why

Episode Date: January 7, 2021

My perfect life...***Written by JaxerSpots***Check out our reward tiers at patreon.com/creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/creepypod***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.

This is the Bloody Disgusting Podcast Network. This is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepypastas and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened or are simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of books. violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. Creepy presents.

My wife was acting weird, and I finally found out why. Written by Jack's response. My wife was acting weird, and I finally found out why. I don't really know exactly when it started. A month ago, I'm not sure. It was really out of the blue. Like, I woke up one day and she was just out of it. I remember we took a little trip to the lake a week prior to the beginning of our strange behavior.

But she was fine and happy the first few days we came home from the trip. It was just that one day that she began to act really strange. She was usually the most lovely person you could ever meet. She was sweet, kind, dorky. the full package. She would pick me flowers if I was sick, and she would need me scarves for the winter. We couldn't have kids, but we didn't need kids.

We were more perfect than I could ever believe. I thought we would be that happy couple, the one that people are jealous of, because we were just that perfect. My childhood was far from normal, so I clung to my marriage as tightly as I could. I thought everything would be finally perfect, till, of course, her behavior began to change drastically.

The first day was bizarre, in a way. I remember I woke up that day and she wasn't in bed. That really wasn't a surprise. I usually slept to about 9 or 10 a.m. while she'd wake up at 7. I yawned and stretched and did my usual morning routine before walking to the kitchen. She was there, staring out the kitchen window. Not moving that much.

Morning, I mumbled. I was still a little drowsy, but I made my way to the fridge and pulled out a yogurt cup. Did you eat yet? I asked. She didn't reply, but kept staring out the window. I came behind her and rubbed her shoulder with my hand. She immediately tensed when I touched her. I could feel it.

I was a bit surprised, of course, but I shrugged it off. She didn't usually like being coddled or worried for and would get extremely fidgety whenever I tried to hug her for too long. I understood that. She needed space, so I would give it to her. I'm going to finish some work, then we'll hang out. I said beginning to walk away. She didn't move at all.

I looked at her for a second and noticed her neck muscles tightening and loosening over and over again. It was a bit disturbing to look at, but I tried to ignore it. She must have been stressed or something. And if she felt ill, then she would have told me. I went to my study and worked for about two hours. By the time I finished, it was nearing lunch, so I got up once more to check. on my wife. She was still there, staring out the window.

Her neck seemed fine, but it was like she didn't move at all. Hey, are you all right? I asked, a bit worried. A 15-second long moment of silence passed us. She finally turned towards me slowly. Her eyes were narrowed into slits. Her mouth crumpled into slits. a skull. She whispered, clean it up. Her voice was deep, guttural, and cold. I never heard her voice

that deep. It seemed like it was coming from a different person. Clean, clean what up? I questioned. She was really scaring me. The plate. She pointed at the clean, plateless floor. Clean it up. I look down, scouring for anything that she could have mistaken for a plate. But nothing. No glass, no ceramic. Nothing. Honey, do you feel sick?

I began to approach her, holding up my hand to feel her forehead. But she immediately snapped into action. She grabbed a plate from the sink and threw it to the ground, shattering it into pieces. I jumped back, hold it. horrified. What's the matter with you? I yelled, not of anger, but surprise.

A piece of the plate had caught my foot, not enough to make it bleed, but enough to catch the skin. I stared at her as she faced me. Her face was the same, but her eyes were wide, and she still had that hateful look plastered on her. She looked absolutely furious with me, like she had her. like she actually wanted to throw the plate at me. Hey! I exclaimed, now a bit irritated that she wasn't answering me. Like the snap of the fingers, her expression relaxed,

and she looked down as well. She looked shocked, and immediately told me to back up as she would get the broom. I watched her run for the broom in the other room, and I felt my heart pick up. I stepped back a bit when she ran back, holding the broom and dustpan. "'Silly me! I can't even hold a plate correctly!' She laughed. When she looked back at me with her soft brown doe highs, I let some of my suspicion melt away.

I'll be more careful next time, she assured me. I stood there for a few seconds, not responding, before just letting denial wash over me and held the dustpan for her to sweep to plate pieces into. We've been married for six years. I know her. This was just a weird morning. The rest of the afternoon was lovely.

She had cooked me dinners and apology for dropping the plate and hurting me. We both joked, laughed, and talked to each other like we normally did. It was just a weird morning. And she must have gotten off on the wrong side of the bed. That's all. That's the only explanation. The next day it got even worse. She was screeching at the top of her lungs when I said hello to her in the kitchen.

She wasn't even saying anything, just screaming. I tried to calmly talk to her, but she didn't stop her screaming. Her face was a bright red and tears were streaming down it. It didn't seem like she would stop, but eventually she ran out of breath and just doubled over, panting. I didn't even attempt to touch her because I had a feeling that. feeling that she wouldn't like it, since it was just a day before when she threw or dropped that plate. After five minutes of silence, sparing her heavy breathing, she started to cry.

She sobbed and wailed, gripping her head with both hands, saying that her head hurt. I couldn't even speak and stared at her, dumbfounded for a few seconds. I slowly began to walk closer and touch her arm. She straightened up, wiped the tears on her face, and looked at me with her doe eyes. Where am I? She sniffled. I didn't respond.

I just hugged her tightly. I now realized that I was a selfish person. I didn't want to ruin my image for our perfect marriage and my perfect life. I had blind faith that this would pass. I rubbed her head gently and convinced myself that we didn't need a doctor. I was going to have my happy adult life. I wiped her tears and kissed her forehead, telling her that everything's fine. I think I was trying to convince myself more than her.

The rest of the day was fine, but she was more clumsy than usual and seemed to be more snappy. Still, she was her sweet and dorky self. So I hid my gut feelings and tossed away my doubt. It was going to be normal again. Everything will go back to normal. The next week was hellish. She had reoccurring memory loss. She forgot constantly who I was, who she was, where we were.

She got so much worse. At the end of that week, she didn't seem to snap out of it like she used to. She just stayed cold and aggressive. Her voice and expressions beginning to appear unrecognizable. She would throw things, she would break things, she would bite things. She ripped up every curtain we had and threw them across the house. She threw a vase at the window and shattered both. She screamed and wailed that her head was hurting while refusing to sleep in her bed.

I don't think she slept at all. I finally called the doctor by the end of the week and voiced my concerns. We made an appointment and some hope was restored in my mind. I could barely get her in the car. It was the first time that I wasn't gentle with her. I got scratched and punched, but I still got her in. I tied her hands and feet back and headed to the doctor's office. He was a bit shocked, to say the least.

We had to untire, but surprisingly, she didn't make a commotion like I thought she would. I feared the doctor would find something horrible, but he eventually declared that she might have a mental disorder. He didn't notice anything wrong with her and told us that maybe she should visit a specialist and gave us a prescription for her head pain. I didn't know what to think. The mental disorders really just click on and off? I didn't know what to think, but I trusted the doctor and pocketed his information. That night my wife entered the bedroom and looked around.

I stared at her incredulously from the doorway. Was she finally going to sleep in our room? She sat on her bed and looked at me. Her face neutral and her voice monotone. What do you think? What do I think about what? I ask sitting beside her. She didn't turn to me.

I don't like that, doctor. She whispered. He's going to help. I reassured her. I didn't try touching her. It was a lost cause. He's going to kill me. She murmured.

He's going to kill me. What? I began. But she got up and walked out. I called after her, but she didn't respond. Immediately my hand reached from my pocket to get the doctor's information, but it wasn't there.

I got up and peeked out the bedroom doorway and saw a ripped-up paper decorating the corridor. In the next few days, I managed to set up an appointment with the doctor to get the prescription again. My wife heard me make the phone call, and I'd just avoided her stare. I couldn't even recognize her anymore.

She was even worse than before, convincing me that she was actually going insane. She lost a large amount of weight. She ripped out her hair. She bit down her fingers in a bloody mess. She scratched her head constantly. I mostly locked myself in my study, focusing on my work and ignoring her screams. When I came out, I would see the house in even worse shambles than before.

It was a chaotic hell. My wife at the helm, she began to beg me to give her a kid. She threatened to hurt me and herself if I didn't give her a kid. We couldn't have children. She knew that. Just trust me. It'll work this time. I swear. She hissed a day before the doctor's appointment, clawing at me when I tried to push her away. Why do you hate me so much?

She screeched when I locked myself in the study. She pounded on the door and wriggled the doorknob. When I came out about five hours later, she was sitting by the door. She looked exhausted and pale. I kneeled next to her and felt her forehead. She wasn't feverish, but she was drenched in sweat. She didn't claw at me, but just looked at me, allowing me to touch her. I felt around her head to see if there's anything strange,

which was easy to do since she ripped out most of her hair. My hand touched something on her neck. It was slimy and wet. I gently tilted her head to the side to see what it was. I nearly puked. It was this long, worm. It was black and thin, and a weakly slug. Lithered around on my wife's neck since coming out of her ear.

The thing wiggled around for a few seconds before it began to retract itself into her ear slowly. I didn't even think of grabbing it, but instead just watched it and heard my wife groan in pain as the thing spurred some liquid from its mouth when it got its entire body inside her head. My head hurts. My wife whined, scratching her scalp. Immediately I picked up my wife and put her in my car racing to the hospital. I burst inside the door with her in my arm when I realized she passed out.

A blood was flowing from her ear. I screamed at every attendant in the emergency room until they would agree to remove the worm from her head. I couldn't wait for a single second. Everyone stared at me in horror when I screamed that there was a worm in my wife's head. I sat outside the room that they were performing surgery and waited until, until they made her better. Apparently, anesthetics didn't work on her in the beginning, and she only passed out when the doctors touched the ear

where I saw the worm come out of. During the removal, the doctors couldn't cut through the worm. It was like cutting through wire and couldn't pull it out of her ear without my wife screaming. Eventually, they had to cut her head open and untangle the thing out from her. They told me it was wrapped around every crissue. of her skull.

They told me the liquided spat was a powerful hallucinogen. They worked for 14 hours and successfully removed the worm from her head. But she didn't make it. The worm absorbed too many nutrients. She was basically starving for weeks. Two doctors pulled me aside and told me about the thing they extracted from her head. holding a large bottle to contain the thing. They told me it was two feet long.

They don't know how it got into her head, but they assumed it occurred when she was in a large body of water. Probably during her lake vacation, it had been growing in her, a parasite, wrapping around my wife's skull for a month and a half, making her go crazy. They're going to send it away for tests.

My life is in shambles. If I hadn't clung to the idea of a perfect marriage, then my wife would still be alive. I'm ruined. For more information, including pictures and videos of the stories told on this 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. All stories told on this podcast are done so through creative comments, share-a-like licensing, or with written consent from the authors.

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