Creepy - Seven Steps & I Found A Body

Episode Date: February 17, 2022

Seven Steps***Written by: N. M. Brown and Narrated by: Rissa Montanez***I Found A Body***Written by: Scott Savino and Narrated by: JV Hampton-VanSant***Find our reward tiers at patreon.com/creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/creepypod***Sound Design by Pacific Obadiah***Title music by Alex Aldea***Intro/Outro Narration by Joe Stofko Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Welcome to the bloody disgusting network. No. This is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepy pastas and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened or are simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of books. Violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised.

Creepy Presents Seven Steps Written by N.M. Brown and narrated by Rissa Montanaz. My grandpa always said that the worst thing in life to go through was the death of a soulmate. I remember the words he said to me

the day my grandmother died. kids you don't understand a child knows that the day will come where they will lose their parents or grandparents the inevitability of it takes root in the back of your mind the instant you understand what death is when you see your wife walk down that aisle see her pack your child's lunch on their first day of school wipe her tears at that same child's wedding you're supposed to be together Forever. My grandfather will always be, hands down, one of the best men that has ever been put on this earth. But he was wrong. Not that it's not life-changingly terrible, because it is. It's not the worst, though. The worst thing is having your soulmate leave your life willingly, alive to the entire world, but dead to you, all the same. The same things are experienced. Cold, empty spots that once held loving life on the bed are still woken up to.

There are still first holidays, anniversaries, and birthdays without them. The feelings are still the same. However, we get to watch or hear about them being very much alive and happy, without you. Aidan and I came home one night to find the house completely trashed. I'd taken him out of town with me to visit my parents and we were gone for most of the day. Initially, I thought we had gotten robbed. However, the second I entered our bedroom, I was quickly shown that was not the case. The only things missing belonged to my husband, including most of his clothes, and our family vacation suitcase.

I found his phone sitting on our dresser. The screen was shattered. and a semi-charged SIM card was placed on top of it. Things weren't perfect, but no worse than any other marriage. We were married six years and still created earthquakes of passion when we made love. Our arguments always calmed after stormy seasons, just like anyone else. Folded delicately underneath the broken phone was a yellow piece of paper. I remember my stomach churning as I hesitated.

to open it. The note most likely provided answers that I didn't wish to know. Marnie, don't look for me tonight. It'll be dark soon and you could get yourself killed trying to chase something that wasn't meant to be. It's bad enough that I left. Aiden couldn't handle something happening to you too. I'm sorry, I let you down. But I refuse to be in your lives anymore. Enforce the lessons I've taught our son and remember our nights before him spent under the rising moon. As painful as it will be at first. Look to the moon at night when you miss me and know that somewhere, I'm looking at the very same moon missing you too. Roger. Emotions charged throughout my soul like a hurricane. How could I have fallen asleep in his

arms 18 hours ago, completely oblivious to the fact that the end was coming soon. Rivers of fear and self-doubt encircled and attacked my spirit. So many words of hate that in times of rage resonated through my brain. All this was going on inside while I patiently smiled at our now fatherless son. I kissed his forehead every time I felt the tears invade. I remember taking solace in the fact that at two months old, Aiden wouldn't remember Roger at all. The first night without him was spent on the couch. I woke up sore and more depressed than I was when I'd fallen asleep.

Aiden woke up fussy and wanting to eat so I fed him. I held and cuddled him until he fell asleep. Setting him in his crib in the slowest of motions, I decided to face my fear and take a nap an hour. My bed. It looked no different. I expected it to take on a dark or sinister appearance now that Roger was gone. In the end, though, despite my heartache and agony, a bed was just a bed.

My mind was able to quiet itself just long enough for the pull of sleep to take hold. A wild snarling snapped me out of my comfortably numb state. I had no idea how long I'd been asleep. But it felt like mere minutes. The view outside my window was blackened, save from streetlights. A chill ran through me that made my hair stand on end. The cells within rose to the top of my skin, creating the smallest of bumps. Whatever animal was out there didn't seem to be active anymore.

The yard was scanned at least three times with my careful eye before I went to bed, wrapped in the blissful ignorance of thinking it had left. The morning was long. and the night before was so very short. A lot needed to be figured out. Roger and I had alternating work schedules so that someone was always available to be with Aden. Now that he was gone, I had to find someone to watch him. The grim future of greeting every day as a single parent was heartbreaking all in its own. On top of that, now I had to leave my baby with someone that they didn't know. It was a week later, and I was sitting in my living room watching late-night TV.

A feeling of unease started once again to invade, and my stomach froze itself into knot formations. Aidan was sleeping longer throughout the night, so I had more time to myself. Through all of the heartache and all the hate, I still found myself wondering what Roger was doing at that moment. I remembered what he said about the moon. I stepped outside in the backyard and lit up a smoke, trying to shake off the creepy feeling that had settled inside of me. There was rustling in the bushes, and of course, like an idiot, I walked towards it.

The creature's eyes were visible before the rest of it materialized. Two almond-shaped glowing orbs of amber. The moon was reflected in its pupils, making them seem almost menacing. I froze in place and did a quick mental measure of the distance between myself and the door to enter the house. Seven. It burst through the trees, making itself known in all its entirety. It had to have been the largest dog I'd ever seen. He put the great Danes I had as a child to shame.

A hulking beast, seven feet tall, while on its hind legs. We just stood there and stared at each other for a bit, waiting for the other to make the first move. Then the creature growled. A low, threatening rumble that emanated from the depths of its massive throat. Its ears flattened against his head like a dog who was preparing to attack. My thoughts flew straight to Aden. How utterly small and innocent he was. The door to the house was wide open.

I opened my phone screen. turned on my camera and made sure the flash was on. It took a step towards me just as I took the picture. The creature reeled back with a yelp, blinded. I took full advantage of its temporary handicap and ran into the house. I slammed the sliding glass door closed and immediately locked it behind me. My feet hadn't taken but five steps back from the door when I saw the beast charge. Saliva flew from its canines with wild abandoned with every lumbering impact of its feet. Our eyes locked as it slammed its massive torso against the glass. It looked desperately angry, tortured.

I ran to Aden's room and locked myself inside, grabbing Roger's gun along the way. All the things that he took with him. I found it strange that this was left behind. I wasn't going to question it, because at that moment, it was exactly what I needed. My sweet baby woke up with a cry some time later. He wanted food and a change. The problem was his formula was in the kitchen,

and the kitchen was next to the sliding glass door. The thrashing and snarling noises had stopped a little while before Ada needed to eat. My feet took wary steps into the kitchen. There was no trace of the creature. The view of my yard looked no different than usual, apart from dirty smears on the glass from its gnashing mouth. Animal control sounded less than convinced of my report of a massive dog-type animal. They said if I felt like we were in danger to stay with a friend,

and they would send someone out when they could. Aidan and I went to my mother's house until I heard back from animal control. They had recorded a coyote sighting, but received nothing on dogs or wolves. Now I had never seen a coyote before, but I was positive that was not what I saw. You know how it can be to live with family, even under the most docile of circumstances. Add stress and fear into the mix, and it can be a less than ideal atmosphere. I still had episodes where I felt soul-freezing fear, and I missed my husband desperately.

My hair stood on end at the most random of times. There was nothing to be seen, though. No reason for my paranoia. It was late at night when my son and I had returned home. I got Aidan inside, settled him into his playpen in the living room, and went back outside to grab the stuff we took to my mom's. I took seven steps into my yard, before feeling the weight of something's eyes on me.

my heart felt like a lead weight as it plummeted towards my feet. Through the trees, very close to me, were those sinister amber eyes. There was only one question. Could I reach the front door before he had the time to reach me? As it took tentative steps toward me, I knew the answer was no. I reached into my glove box and retrieved Roger's gun. He went through a phase where he was, he liked to make his own bullets.

Like Eugene from the Walking Dead, he would fondly say. I prayed one of those bullets was loaded into the chamber. A click of the slide revealed that it was indeed loaded. My forefingers shook as the click of the safety unlocking

resonated through my hand. I gripped the nine millimeter firmly in both hands and took aim. The beast had broken out into a full sprint by then. I ran off to the side of its pack, and took the shot. A heart-rending howl rang out through the night air. My ears were pounding

from the shot, but I heard it all the same. It was able to take seven more steps before it fell to the ground. It had surpassed me, as if on its way inside the house. As the creature fell, it began to change. The body writhed and convulsed in agony as the features warped rapidly into a human state. My screams alerted the neighborhood of my heartache. Laying on the ground, almost reaching into the house, was my beloved Roger. His finger was outstretched like he was pointing at something inside. His lifeless eyes were fixed in my direction in a pleading stare. The note, his note, made all the more sense now.

That brings us to the present day. I know why Roger left. I know why he was stalking our yard. And I know what his intentions were. My husband was trying to protect us from a force not seeable to the human eye. Whatever had happened to him made him able to see things in other realms. Aidan wakes up screaming every night. The camera monitor shows flashes of light and shadow inside the room that he sleeps in.

Roger was our protector, and I killed him. Who in God's name is going to protect us now? Creepy Presents. I found a body, written by Scott Savino and narrated by J.V. Hampton Van Sant. My dog and I found a body in the woods yesterday. Actually, we found several. The first one had to have been dead at least a month. She was naked.

The sun cast an eerie, living light down through the branches of the trees. Even before we approach it, I can see her stomach undulating slowly. This is not a trick of the light. She is moving like a mold of gelatin. The kind with fruit. inside. The kind they give you on your tray in elementary school, except I imagine the bits and pieces in a gelatinous mass are probably not so sweet a surprise in this jelly. As we get closer, I have to cover my face with my shirt to ward off the smell. Max, my dog is unfazed by the

sickly sweetness of it. Dogs are made of sorts. stronger stuff. Right now, it's like opening that Tupperware container you discovered, forgotten in the refrigerator, hidden away so long it transforms into something unidentifiable. To a canine nose, every interesting, rotten smell is appetizing. I know what he's thinking, as I gag against the wind that carries a waft of it to us. He'd eat it if I let him. My instinct is screaming through my body, compelling me back to the car. Yet something else compels me forward.

Call it morbid fascination. Call it curiosity. Call it what you will. I'm a high school biology teacher. That might be the reason I have to get a better look. Why am I not struck into shock at the sight? It might not be the reason. Maybe I'm just sick. A part of me knew there had to be a logical explanation as to why her chest rose and fell, like breathing.

Max is unleashed. But he stays at my side obediently, unsure of what to make of this. He's well trained, and I haven't told him to inspect it, so he doesn't. Training a dog to listen is easy. They're pack animals. You have to identify yourself as the alpha. He looks up at me, suspicious curiosity sparkles in his eyes.

He wants my permission to take a look. I shake my head at him, yet curiosity gets the best. of every man and beast trained or no. Alpha or no. He inches forward. Max, no. I came out here with him for a picnic. This is one of his favorite spots, mine as well.

Setting the basket down, I take him by the collar and lead him back to the turnoff of brush where I had parked the car. After his water is filled on the floorboards, the air conditioner running high and he is safely inside, I begin rummaging through the trunk until I find what I need, my school bag. Amongst the ungraded essays and test papers is a small box of latex gloves. Approaching the body again, I realized it's moving, because something has burrowed inside. I slowly make my way foot by foot past where I'd left the picnic basket. It's a cautious compulsion for understanding which drives me.

How did you get here? I asked her, wiping the sweat from my brow. She gazes back, empty. No answer stares out from her wriggling, maggot-filled eyes. There is no sign in the sparse, unruffled leaves that lay delicately in the mud around her that she was dragged to this spot. No rut, no broken twigs lead to where she lay. There was a trail to track, though it was not what I had expected to find.

Instead, the delicate impression of feet in the damp ground led to her as though she walked there, as though she came here, to find the perfect spot to lie down and die. I leave her for a moment and trudge further into the woods, following the path she had taken, towards the clearing. I knew the clearing would be there because this was where Max and I had been headed. next i came upon a naked man and another and another woman five in total mark the path into the clearing each one older than the last dead one month then two then three four five the path of each is traced in dotted lines to where they lay by the muddy footfalls, each one writhing slowly as if alive. In a way they are alive, hosts for parasites, their curious placement only raises more questions.

When I reach the clearing, I see the hole they escaped from, and having seen enough I've returned to my car to retrieve my hazmat. suit. I cannot leave evidence behind. I'm not sure how they were able to climb their way out. When I buried them, they were well and truly dead. I haven't got much time to put them back where they belong before nightfall makes it impossible. Sorry, Max, I say. The picnic will have to wait. i drag each of them back to the hole with little trouble save for the last who is five months dead and so bloated full of maggots that when i drag him he splits in half They all spill out of him like a prize of a battered pina. Once I've cleared his mess up, I toss him in with the others.

The sky is varying shades of violet, and night is setting in by the time the bodies are back inside the hole where they're kept. Today, I can't wait for the school day to end. I should have called in a substitute, but I realized too late. I'm not sure how or why the bodies climbed out of their graves. It's strange, but that isn't the troubling thought that weighs on my mind. The mystery of it definitely should be, but stranger things happen in this town. That doesn't matter much. I can bury them back again every time.

I have to hold my desk, or the students will see my hands shake. Everything's fine. Everything's fine. It's hard to stay and continue teaching. The panic just won't abate. I realize the mistake and I'm praying to God. Nobody treads my hidden path today. Yesterday, after a brisk walk back to the car,

there was still enough dwindling light to allow me to turn off the ignition. Max is beside me again, tail wagging, and spinning in happy circles. I am nearly undressed. Only my socks are left, but the change begins, whether I've had time to prepare or not. The moon parts the clouds and greets me like an old friend, and before I know what's happened, I'm wild again. My claws have ripped my socks to shreds.

My sharp ears perk at the song in my head, the lullaby of the woods at night. My tail wags, and I spin in happy circles with Macs at my side. Together we howl at the sky. Together we return to the clearing and fill in the hole with our paws. I do twice the work of tamping the earth back down, because his paws are half the size of mine. I can smell their rotting meat below. But it isn't so bad with my canine nose. Together, we bury the evidence.

There can be no evidence. After we ran in the cool wind of the night. At dawn, we wake next to the car and head home. I work today. I'll transform the next two nights before the moon changes phase. Three nights a month, we stalk those woods. Breathe. Don't fret. Don't cry. Everything's fine. Don't let anyone see the fear in your eyes.

Nobody will find the picnic basket I left behind. But probably someone will. Probably someone will set up camp nearby. That's how those people became bodies in the first place. We happened upon them in their tents. Something about the full moon draws people into the woods at night. My head is howling loudly with anxiety, and I can't make it stop. For more information on this podcast, including how to submit your own story for consideration. Please visit creepypod.com.

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