Creepy - Sleepwalking

Episode Date: February 10, 2025

Sleepwalking ***Written by: JT Johnson and Narrated by: Michelle Kane***10 Hours of Black Noise ***Written by: Connor Lee***Symbiosis ***Written by: Rhyan Pike and Narrated by: Owen McCuen***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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This is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepypasters and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened or are simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised.

For our first story this evening, for some people, the best part of the day is the moment when they can finally lay their head down and close their eyes. free from busy and overwhelming days. But what if instead of sleeping, the real nightmare was just beginning? Creepy Presents Sleepwalking, written by J.T. Johnson. And narrated by Michelle Kane. Mom, Sadie is sleep talking again.

I squint into my parents' room, sleep still making my eyes feel grainy, as I watched my mom's head slowly lift from her pillow. Her face only barely visible from the glow of her phone screen. For as long as I could remember, my little sister Sadie would randomly start to sleepwalk or talk. There was never a reason for it. They just seemed to start out of nowhere and usually stopped just as sporadically. If Sadie was sleep-talking, it meant she would be sleepwalking.

soon enough. It had been established early on that if Sadie was talking or walking in her sleep for me to go get Mom or Dad, usually this was to make sure Sadie didn't inevitably try and go outside or wake the neighbors. I watched Mom get up, her hand patting my shoulder lightly as she walked sleepily down the hallway, me following behind only to stand in Sadie's doorway, watching as mom leaned over her now quiet form. Mom seemed to hover over her a few more minutes, before quietly leaving the room. Her face a little more awake now as she glanced at me and then back at Sadie. She seems to be settled down now. Go back to sleep. Thanks for getting me. I nodded. My own eyes too tired to barely keep open as I went to my room across the hall for.

from Sadies. The next night I woke up to a soft thud in the hallway, my eyes snapping open with the pulse of adrenaline as I became aware of my surroundings. I blinked, nearly falling back asleep when another quiet thud scratched my senses. Not again, I thought with an internal groan as I rolled on to my back, my body protesting at the thought of getting up as I tried to listen more for Sadie. I could hear her mumbling, not quite talking, but just a steady flow of strung-together nonsense. I blinked at my ceiling, the soft thud, thud, thud, settling the fact that I would not be falling back asleep until I got mom or dad to get Sadie settled back in bed. nearly set up, intent on getting up and walking to mom's room. When I saw Zady move to stand in front of

my door, my heart rising in my throat, despite knowing full well, it was just my kid's sister. Stop being a baby. I thought to myself, she's sleepwalking, just go get mom. I couldn't move, though, the soft mumbling and jittering of her voice, making my skin crawl, as I'd just barely moved my head, just enough to be able to see her. Without giving away, I was fully awake. Sadie usually had patterns when it came to sleepwalking. She'd go into the kitchen or pace around the living room. Sometimes she'd try to open the front door. She'd never come into my room before. Probably why I've always been okay with sleeping with my door open. I held my breath. Someone had turned the light off in the hallway, making it almost impossible to see her. What little light

from the kitchen gave a dim outline around her swaying silhouette. My mouth dry as I took in the frizzy width of her hair and the slow way she seemed to rock on her feet, back and forth, back and forth. I'd never been one of those kids who's scared easily, but it was fear swelling inside me now. As I I watched from the protection of darkness in my own room, as my little sister just swayed in my doorway. Thud, thud, thud, thud. The noise was quiet and repetitive, almost matching my heartbeats as I lay frozen in fear. Sadie? My voice was out whisper, my throat closing. Sadie, wake up!

I tried to make my voice louder, eyes watering as I tried to see through the darkness that shrouded around her. Sadie! Her name came out a shaking croak. Sadie, go back to bed. Her swaying slowed until she stopped, a low groaning noise whispering out from her. It was more like a low-pitched humming. realized as if she were trying to make the sound old doors make when they squeak open. Sadie? I tried again, my throat too tight, my chest pinching with pain as breath seemed to lodge in my lungs.

Sadie, go to bed! The strange humming got louder, the wooden board in my room that always creaked when stepped on, let out a small sound, alerting me to her having stepped into my room. At the sound of the floor groaning, her figure seemed to pause, then slowly, slowly began to sway back and forth. The thudding started again and I watched through tears swelling in my eyes. I don't know how long this went on. Me, too paralyzed, to move or scream for my mom. Sadie just humming and swaying. All the while a thud, thud, thud, thud.

filled the air between us. I must have fallen asleep somehow. One second she was there and the next my eyes were snapping open, fully prepared to see her lunging toward me. Instead, I was staring at my empty doorway, the dim light of early morning giving me enough light to see my room and her room fully. I could see the edge of her bed from where I lay. My body is still tired and heavy from the last of sleep. While I couldn't see her face, I could see the shape of her buried under her blankets. I told Mom about it at breakfast. My eyes tired and puffy as I ate my oatmeal, making sure to mention Sadie's nightly shenanigans when she had gone back to her room to get dressed for the day. You should have come and got us, baby. Mom had sounded both concerned and suspicious.

You really need to be sure to come and get us, okay? We don't want her hurting herself. I felt annoyed that all she was worried about was Sadie hurting herself and not at all concerned about how creepy she had been acting. When I voiced this, Mom had brushed it off. It certainly sounds eventful, but Sadie isn't going to hurt anyone. Next time, just move past her and get me. Okay? Her words had left me with little assurance, and I found myself dreading bedtime.

That night, as we got ready for bed, I watched my little sister taming her unruly hair into two braids, her pink nightgown just a few inches too long as she got ready for bed. Before I turned in for the night, both mom and dad reminded me of what to do if Sadie started sleepwalking. I didn't need to be reminded. I'd been helping keep tabs on her for years now during these flare-ups and didn't understand why I needed them now. It was Sadie, who they should have been concerned with, and were acting like she wasn't doing completely new things during these random sleep ventures. I held back with these opinions and assured them I would get them if I caught her up. And we all went to bed. I woke up to what sounded like scratching somewhere outside my

room. My eyes fluttering open as my brain seemed to slam into consciousness. I remained still, despite the urge to get up, making my leg shake. My mouth dry as I tried to take stock of my surroundings. My room was dark, the lack of light meaning the hallway light had been turned off again. The house was silent without any noise outside of the long scratching sounds. I shifted, looking wearily at my door, prepared to see Sadie's frozen figure like I had the night before. My doorway, from what I could see see, was empty. The only thing beyond it was a darkness that seemed unnatural. The long scratches had two small tap-taps between them, followed by what felt like. a few seconds of silence before it would start up again. I swallowed, mom and dad's stern

insistence to come and get them throbbing in my head as I slowly set up, trying my best to suppress the fear that had made my feet feel like cement. I watched the door with widening eyes as I tried to tiptoe over my floor, hating the way they tried to creak with each step. The scratching and tapping kept going outside of my room. My ears were ringing as I tried to hear more. My heart creeping into my throat as I made it to the edge of my door, my hands shaking as I brace them against the wall. Just look if you don't see her run to mom's room. I held my breath as I looked down the hallway, her leave to find nothing but empty space. I turned to look the other way, Mom and Dad's room at the very end, the quiet scratching

still going on somewhere in the darkness. Nothing. I felt my breath ease out of me as I felt my body relax, my heart slowing just a little as I stepped into the hallway. I couldn't see anything in Sadie's room. The darkness making it look like a black void as I tried to squint, wishing my eyes would hurry up and adjust. I could see the dim outline of her bed,

the pile of blankets in the center, almost looking like she could be in there. A sound ripped my attention from her room, my heart leaping into my throat as I turned to the direction of the noise. I saw a shape moving at the end of the hallway, hunched and short. My brain unable to comprehend what it was I was looking at. Not until it came closer. Sadie's wild mess of hair fell over her face.

her hands on the floor making her look as if she were trying to run like a chimpanzee. Her back sickeningly arched as she ran from our kitchen across the hallway and into the living room. I don't know if I screamed or if the scream stayed locked in my throat. I only know I felt my feet propel me numbly forward. My head still craned to look over my shoulder as I saw her run on all fours down the hallway. towards me. Her labored breaths wet and slurping as her hair seemed to fly around her head in an unruly mass. Despite their door being just a few steps away, it felt as if it had taken me forever to get to mom and dad's room. The racket of me running in caused them to both wake up in a

wild panic. Sadie, Mom, she's sleep walking again, like sleep crawling? She's making weird noises and she's running around on all force. I was aware of Mom's arm pulling me into her, holding me tightly as she tried to calm me down. Her voice low as she rubbed my hair, telling me it was okay and to relax. I heard Dad looking for Sadie, the sound of lights being turned on and off,

the only noise outside of him saying her name. After a few minutes he came back, his face tired and eyes squinting. as he slid back into bed. She's back in bed now, thanks, honey. I felt mom's arms slide away from me as she too returned to bed, her hands squeezing mine once,

thanking me sleepily for coming and getting them. But how did you get her back in bed so fast? Normally it took at least 30 minutes for them to coax her back to bed. This time, Dad had only been gone a few minutes. Dad was already settled. down in the blankets. His voice groggy as he mumbled that she was already in bed and to go back to sleep. I felt no comfort or reassurance as I walked back to my room. The small light in the

hallway turned on allowing me to see fully into Sadie's room. There she was. Her face barely visible beneath the blankets. Her eyes closed and relaxed as she slept without issue. Must be nice. I felt to pain of annoyance as I went back to my own bed, my mind racing, my thoughts too troubled to allow sleep to return to me. By the time morning came, I barely slept at all, dozing on and off, only to wake up at every small noise. Sadie seemed completely oblivious to her actions last night as she ate her toast, too busy talking to Mom to notice me staring at her with absolute aggravation. When Sadie left the room, I tried to tell Mom about what I'd seen, from the weird crawling on all fours to the scratching. It's just a phase.

Sadie does this in random bursts, then stops. Give it a night or two. She'll get back to her normal sleep schedule soon enough. I wanted to scream and pull my hair out, frustration making my words sharper. What about my sleep, Mom? How is this even fair? She had been empathetic, but that was the end of her help to me. I was still to wake them up if I heard Sadie's sleepwalking,

which meant I wasn't allowed to close my bedroom door. School felt like torture as I tried to stay awake. The two nights of sleeplessness catching up to me, I couldn't focus on my classes or keep up with the conversations with my friends. When it was finally time to go to bed, I found myself sitting on the edge of my mattress, watching Sadie as she slid under her blankets. Mom and Dad reminded me discreetly to come and get them should I hear anything, and then everyone turned off their lights and went to sleep.

I'd fallen asleep quickly, unable to keep myself awake, but being sure to keep my small lamp on as well, making sure the hallway light hadn't been turned off. I woke to the low sound of giggling. The deep rumble of it sent ice through my veins as my eyes snapped open. My room was dark again. Confusion and fear pulsing inside me as I quickly reminded myself. I had left those lights on.

Is Sadie turning them off in her sleep? Can she do that? Another rumble of deep giggles reminded me why I had woken up. my throat tightening as I forced myself to remain utterly still. It didn't sound like Sadie. Didn't sound like anyone I knew. I lay frozen, grateful for the darkness that had hopefully masked my widening eyes. I felt the mattress behind me dipped down,

the way it does when someone leans onto the bed with only their hands. I squeezed my eyes shut. So tight I saw little bursts of color. behind my eyelids, as I tried to slowly pull the covers over my face, my breath aching in my lungs as I held it. I felt the end of Sadie's hair trail lightly across my cheek, unable to stop the shaking that now vibrated my whole body. I'd never been this afraid before, unable to process the screaming emotions inside me,

the inability to move despite every part of me, screaming to run. Another low giggle rumbled just above my ear. The bed continuing to dip lower and lower, as if she were now fully on the bed. Tears swelled up in my eyes as I felt hot breath bearing down on my ear. Her breathing wet and strangled. Not sleeping. Her voice was giddy, not even sounding like her assingled.

at all as she whispered directly into my ear, firing off a series of panicked explosions in my mind. I could smell the sourness of her breath, feel her hair falling into my face, the smell of mold and dirt clinging to the long strands. The scream that tore out of me was pitched and painful, as if my vocal cords were shredded with the force. I felt her spring backwards, heard the loud slapping of her feet against me. my floorboards as she ran out of the room. The faintest smell of smoke trailing behind her. I couldn't stop screaming, not even when Mom and Dad came stumbling into my room, not even when

Mom turned on the light and Dad shook my shoulders. Sadie! It's Sadie! It was all I could do as I fell into hysterical sobs. Too afraid to calm down, my hands shaking as I clung to my mom's shoulders. Sadie came stumbling into my room. Her face red and eyes squinting as she blinked, bleary-eyed at us, and she asked what was going on. Mom and dad turned to face her. Mom's still holding me as dad explained she'd been sleepwalking again and that she'd given me a good scare. I wanted to yell at him to tell him how her voice had been different and how she must have gotten outside because she smelled so bad. I didn't, though. I could barely choke out words at all as mom tried to calm me down. Sadie frowned us, and Dad walked her back to her room. Her eyes on me with tired confusion as she slid back into her bed.

I slept in my parents' room, not caring if it made me look like a baby, or if it meant no one could keep watch of Sadie. The next morning, mom and dad both sat down with me and asked me to tell them about what happened. I told them everything, from the weird giggles to the way she had sounded different, even how she'd whispered in my ear. They didn't interrupt or ask questions as I talked. By the time I'd finished, I knew with sinking certainty that they didn't believe me. Honey, we're wondering if you've been experiencing nightmares, sleep paralysis even. Dad had explained, his voice soft and gentle, making me angrier.

I wasn't a toddler that needed to be coddled. I was someone being harassed in the middle of the night by their sleepwalking kid's sister. Apparently, my retelling of the night's events and the night before had only made them more convinced Sadie wasn't actually sleepwalking at all, and that I had developed night terrors. The conversation ended quickly, with both agreeing that I should try taking an over-the-counter sleep aid to help me get a sounder sleep, and that they would schedule a doctor's visit to look into any issues I might be having to cause this change. Dad agreed to sleep in my room. I didn't even feel bad for hoping Sadie did to him what she had done to me. Instead, nothing happened.

I even got my first full night sleep in days, and Dad said Sadie never moved or talked once. I realized it only confirmed their suspicions of my sudden night terrors, making me both confused and defensive. When the weekend came, I finally agreed to sleep in my room again, only because Sadie was going to be staying over at a friend's house. It felt like a weight had been lifted off my chest when I went to bed that night. My only concern being if I remembered to brush my teeth.

I was awake even before my eyes opened, dread and fear making me feel too heavy to move. I was aware of the breath on my face, hot and putrid, the light dragging of fingernails along my exposed arm. as I forced myself to remain utterly still. I knew if I opened my eyes, I would see Sadie there. Frustration and terror brewed inside me as the nails began to drag harder and harder until I had no choice but to wince and flinch away. I could see where the nails had torn my skin, a slight trickle of blood along my arm.

I was paralyzed and forced to entombed. endure the sickening smell of her breath in my face, the way my arm felt hot and itchy where she dragged her nails into my skin. I felt the movement, her clammy skin present to mine, her horrifying voice dripping into my ear. One more night. I felt the mattress lift as she eased away from my bed, the smell of mold and rot burning my nose as I lay shaking. the floorboards creaking as I listened to her move around my room. My body felt cold and hot. My arms throbbing in pain as I listened to what sounded like Sadie,

dragging her nails on my walls. The heavy whisper of her rattling breath both labored and almost excited sounding. Unable to help myself, I squinted one eye barely open, just enough to see her blurred figure pacing around my room. Her hair was down around her shoulders, hanging in a thick curtain of frizz that matted tangles. A small glimpse of her face I could see was both pale and distorted from my blurred vision. Her movements were jerky.

Even in my barely open vision, I could see how her back had seemed bent and wrong, as if she didn't have full control of her. body in the sleep state. The fear was palpable as I squeezed my eyes shut again, afraid she'd see me looking, my teeth chattering as I tried to hold my breath, to force myself to be as still as possible. She was humming, her voice an octave lower than I was used to, the tune to a lullaby I couldn't quite grasp. Laying there, a prisoner to my own terror, the lyric. The lyric. tricks to the lullaby slowly slid into my ears, somehow turning my terror to one of immense dread.

Pockets full of posies, ashes, ashes, we all fall down. Tears stung my eyes, a heavy exhaustion making me ache in my bones as I tried to force myself to scream for my mom and dad. Instead, I felt nothing but suffocation. All of the while, she kept humming and dragging her nails along my wall. I was not brave enough to try a second time to look at her. Despite the fear and overwhelming dread, I somehow fell asleep. My body slamming into consciousness only to instantly feel the terrible pain pulsing through me. My skin felt like boiling.

hot, as if someone had poured liquid fire into me. My arms and legs heavy and aching, as if I had spent the entire night running. My head felt swollen and throbbing. My eyes painful to open, and once they were, I couldn't help but squeeze them shut. Like it's the burning from the light in my room. The pain seemed centered the worst on my arm. The place where Sadie had scratched me seemed to thrum with the pain that felt almost like a fresh burn. I squinted weakly at my arm. Three deep red scratches ran from my shoulder to elbow, the skin around the red lines, puffy and swollen. I felt dizzy and nauseous as I pressed myself deeper into my pillows. My mouth dry as I feebly called out for my mom. She looked shocked when she came into my room, rushing to my bedside

to press a hand on my forehead, only to look horrified at how hot my skin was to the touch. I showed her my arm. Her face pale and confused as she asked me if I had done it, or if I'd gotten scratched by something yesterday and hadn't told her. No, Mom. Sadie did it last night. Did Dad have to pick her up early or something? It wouldn't have been the first time Sadie's sleepovers had ended early. My eyes blow. luring as I watched her face twist into puzzled worry. Sadie isn't home, remember? She went to her friend's house.

Then, who? Who was in my room last night, Mom? I remembered the words then, the smell of rancid breath, the voice that didn't sound like Sadie whispering to me. One more. A cold, heavy fear pressed down on me, squeezing the air from my lungs as my mind raced back to last night.

To every single night she had tormented me. If Sadie is gone, who was in my room? Who have I been seeing at night? I could hear my mom calling someone, her voice frantic as she pressed her hand to my head again. My eyes burning as my thoughts spiraled out of control, pain and dizziness making my eyes flutter shut, as if it would somehow stop the growing discomfort. I heard mom hang up, her steps quick as she moved down the hallway, my mind tripping and stopping over a single thought over and over.

What had Sadie, or not Sadie, meant when she said one more night? What was going to happen? Tonight. For our second story this evening, a desperate insomniac stumbles upon a channel promising peaceful sleep, but soon discovers the videos are for more than just a good night's rest. Creepy Presents, 10 hours of black noise, written by Connor Lee. Last year, I stopped being able to sleep. It lasted for months, and I tried everything I could think of.

No matter how tired I felt, no matter how heavy my eyes were. When I lay down, sleep eluded me like a song I couldn't quite remember. One night when I was closing on on 48 hours of no sleep, I stumbled out of my room, begging for my dad to do something, anything to help me. I found him standing over his desk and staring down at the dollhouse. It was the kind with the top open so you can see in every room. room. Both of his hands were inside. His forms twitched as he moved things around. His breaths quickened as I entered the room. Dad? I said. It was all I could muster. My eyes drooped with a deceptive

feeling that I might fall asleep as I spoke. He pulled backwards so fast that the house tumbled off the desk, landing at his feet. Out spilled three dolls. He frantically scooped up everything, placing the dolls back inside the house and the house back on the desk. Sorry. He smiled at me with quivering lips and wide, frantic eyes. His expression anxious, but hopeful. He had asked if I wanted to see what he'd been working on. Told you no.

He started yelling at me to get out. He slammed the door shut behind me. Screw you! I yelled. Suddenly I was so dizzy that. I had to hug the wall as I walked up to my room. I took four Excedrin, put on my headphones and closed my eyes until the world stopped spinning. A few minutes later, I was scrolling Twitter.

Desperate for a distraction when one of those promoted tweets caught my eye. Are you having trouble falling asleep at night? Look no further. Your sleep friend is here to help. Google is really spying on me, I thought. There was a video attached, so I paused my music and hit play. The video showed an empty beach. In the background, blue calm waves ran up the shore.

There were several moments of silence and then a man began to speak in a low, slow whisper. At each word, the sound switched from my right ear to my left and the syllables reverberated over each other. I'm your sleep friend and I'm here to help you get to sleep. On my channel, you'll find all kinds of. kinds of videos dedicated to relaxing your mind. I have nature sounds, ASMR, white noise, and a plethora of other options. Find what you need and never spend another night tossing and turning. The whole ASMR whisper-talking thing he was doing was kind of creepy but I was desperate.

So I clicked the link to his YouTube channel and started to sort through the videos. There were dozens to choose from, but I started with eight hours of nature sounds to pull you down. There were faint sounds of running water, birds chirping and leaves rustling in the wind. It made me feel like I was in a different world. No headache, no pain. I didn't have to worry about school, my dad, or... That night, the birds were my friends. And the water and the leaves were a gentle song lulling me to sleep.

After a few minutes I had turned on to my side and closed my eyes. But in the darkness, the sounds seemed to shift and change. The running water was a growling predator. The birds were a horde of crows waiting to make a meal of me, and the wind and the leaves were menacing whisper in the distance. Before long I was sweating and gripping my sheet so hard my hands hurt. I opened my eyes and turned off the video. I took a breath.

Come on, man. Just go to sleep. But I couldn't. Twenty minutes of lying down with my eyes closed did nothing. I needed something to drawn out to silence. Ten hours of white noise to help you drift away. I could see why they called it white noise. It reminded me a TV static.

Yet this sound seemed to take up more room in my head like, There was some sort of smoke attached to it. It was slowly flowing through my ears and in every crevice of my brain. For a moment there was nothing except the sound. I relaxed a little and closed my eyes. But in the instant I did, just for a fleeting second, I saw white inside of darkness. Like I was inside an empty word document. There was a whisper, soft and calling to me, but I wasn't able to make out the words.

With a sharp gasp I opened my eyes. My heart hammered in my chest. I sat completely still. I couldn't shake the feeling that the sound, the smoke, was an invading army and that the whisper was a warning, I ripped the headphones from my ears and turned off the video. The dark does funny things to your mind, I told myself, especially when you haven't slept in two days. I checked the time on my phone. 4 a.m. If I go to sleep now, I can still sleep for three hours.

I closed my eyes once more. In the dark, eerie silence, the memories came flooding back. The screams. My mom lying in a puddle of her own blood. Her eyes open, but void of life. Wind whispered through the branches outside, and I remembered how slowly the front door creaked open. Oh, I'd assumed it was my dad coming home early from his business trip. No more of that, I thought.

Coming back to the present, I wanted to get up from bed and flip on the light, but it seemed so far away. I'd have to pass the void of uncertainty that was the shadows, under my bed. I couldn't help but feel that there was something under there waiting for me, that there was a sound but one that I couldn't quite hear, couldn't get up. I grabbed my phone. I was already on the channel. I figured I'd try another video. One of them had to work for me. After all, the thoughts hadn't come back until I stopped, right? Ten hours of black noise to bring you piece. This video had no apparent sound, but rather white letters over a black background. It read simply black noise. The text faded away and the video began to transition through

slides like a PowerPoint. What is black noise? It is no noise. Silence. But I think you'll enjoy the silence. The darkness. Maybe you'll find peace. I felt my stomach rise in my throat. My breaths came out rapid and sharp. Ten hours of black noise, starting in three, two, I closed my eyes. Not sure if it was voluntary or not, and saw myself from the eyes of an observer. A different me, floating in a space of infinite darkness.

My eyes were closed and there was a small. of pure bliss on my face. This version of me was sinking into the darkness, so slowly that it took me several moments to notice. I smiled. I was happy for him. My breaths began to match his. My consciousness began to fade as sleep pulled me in.

Suddenly I was falling so fast that the wind pulled around me. My feet landed on a cool white tile floor, a kitchen. I looked around at the wooden cabinetry, mahogany dinner table, and light blue walls. It wasn't just a kitchen. It was my kitchen. Then there was that whisper coming from the other side of the wall, the living room. This time it was a little louder, loud enough that I could make up. the words. It was a low voice, echoing, commanding me to go with it. Your sleeping friend,

I walked into the room. He would have been an average-looking man, five foot ten or eleven, average frame, but the skin on his face was deathly pale, almost translucent. The closer I got to him the colder I felt. He wore a tuxedo, and his right hand carried the hook of a beautiful dream catcher. The web in the middle was yellow and made to resemble four flowers leaning against each other. At the bottom, four black crow feathers hung vertically. They swung back and forth as he turned and began walking towards my dad's room. He asked me to come, and I did. I followed him through the living room and into my bedroom. The TV was on and playing criminal minds.

My mom's favorite show. This isn't my dad's room, I thought. This is my parents' room. Before it became my dad's room. I screamed. No! But as I did, there was a man's voice from the bathroom. Forceful.

Angry. Got the words. But I knew it was. wasn't my dad. There were the muffled, horrified screams of my mother. My mother whose mouth had been covered with tape and who I hadn't found until nearly six hours after her death. You couldn't make me watch! I yelled, backing up toward the doorway. He was standing just beside the bathroom door. The dream catcher was now hanging from the doorknob. He held his hands behind his back and stared at me patiently as my mother struggled and screamed.

No! I screamed again. And this time I turned and ran out the doorway, up the stairs, and into my room. I jumped on my bed and got under the covers like I was seven again, hiding from the boogeyman and waiting for the sun to come out. Instead, my alarm was ringing. it was time to go to school. My day went about as normal.

Any excess energy the few hours of sleep had given me wore off by the time I got to school. I walked around in my typical days. When I got home that evening, my dad slammed his office door shut. A few hours later, I took my melatonin, counted backwards from a hundred, and then lay still with my eyes closed for what must have been at. at least 20 minutes. Nothing worked, except, I thought, there is one thing that worked. It did put me to sleep, right?

And I was sure I'd just imagined all the scary bits, the whispers, the visions, and the dream. The only thing I knew for a fact was that it helped me sleep, if only for a few hours. And I hadn't woken up screaming, shaking, or crying, just a little unsettled. I threw on my headphones, opened up the channel, and hit play on the video. There was the intro, the slides, and then the darkness. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Within a few minutes I was floating. Then the fall, I was in the kitchen.

finally the whisper telling me to go with him. This time I turned the corner and looked into his fading yellow eyes. Why? I asked. Why do you want to make me watch? He told me that it wasn't to watch, that he was there to bring me peace. He turned and walked to my parents' bedroom. I followed. Again, upon entering the room, he hung the dream catcher on the bathroom doorknob,

then stared at me until I approached. I heard the man barking his orders, then the muffled screams of my mom. This time I opened the door and ran inside. Mom! I yelled. She was on the floor with duct tape covering her mouth. A tall man with broad shoulders and a large knife was standing over her. I ran forward to tackle him and take the knife, but he was a grown man and I was only a kid.

He threw me to the side with one arm, then stepped towards me and slashed at me with the knife. I dodged backward and fell, crashing against the wall. My mom took the moment's distraction to stand up and hit him from behind. He turned and with one swift motion. A slid her throat. I let out a torturous scream. As if he'd forgotten about me, the man jumped and turned and strode toward me. I woke up when the blade was about an inch away from my head.

My sheets were drenched and sweat, and I was breathing like I'd just run a marathon. In the back of my mind, there was the feeling that I'd been close to death. Those events were real. What I went through wasn't a dream. but an alternate reality, one in which I had checked on my mother that night. After some time I sat up. The first thing I noticed was the object sitting on my nightstand. It was the dream catcher.

As beautiful as in my dream, attached to it was a blue sticky note. I picked it up and turned it over. Not a new reality, but the truth. your peace Use this when you need it Your sleeping friend It might not seem like what he gave me was a gift The vision of my near death at the hands of an intruder

But what he did was answer all the questions I'd asked myself every single day since my mom died What if I hadn't stayed in bed What if I had tried to save her Was it my fault? that she died? It wasn't my fault. And I couldn't have saved her.

It was no one's fault except for the man who walked into her house and killed her. The guilt began to fade away. Not all at once, but it was a start. I picked up the dream catcher and walked downstairs.

My dad was asleep at his desk, his arms resting on either side of the dollhouse. I put my hand on his shoulder and for the first time, I looked inside. The girl doll was in the bathroom upstairs. The male doll was in front of her. A small plastic stick sharpened to look like a knife was glued to his hand. Behind him was the other male doll.

Legs positioned one in front of the other to show that he was running forward. Tears in my eyes. I kissed my dad on the back of his head and, placed the dream catcher in his lap. I couldn't give him a new reality, but I could give him a chance to make a new memory. I could show him the truth. I could, perhaps, bring him peace, answers.

Maybe I could even get him back. For our final story this evening, when a desperate son accepts a strange cure for his terminally ill mother, he unleashes something unexpected. Creepy presents. Symbiosis.

Written by Ryan Pike and narrated by Owen McCune. I know that the police and the doctors say was not my fault, but I still blame myself for my mother's death. Growing up, mother was always one of the strongest people I knew. She would get knocked.

down a hundred times only to get back up and keep pushing forward. I watched the strength she exhibited when she endured beatings at the hands of my abusive father in order to keep them from being directed at me. I saw the emotional strength she exhibited when she testified in a courtroom to get that monster out of our lives and into a cage for the foreseeable future. I've seen her push through a broken leg as a result of a car crash in order to keep working and earn the wages needed to keep the roof over our heads, and I've seen her walk away from a house fire,

with her head held high and an air of confidence that this is just another one of life's trials and nothing she couldn't handle. Maybe this is why it was so hard to see her confined to a hospital bed after her pack a day smoking habit finally caught up with her. Two years ago, my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer. She underwent the conventional treatments and for a while it looked like she had beaten the odds and was once again going to walk away with a couple of scars and a new story to tell.

Unfortunately, the cancer returned with a vengeance and began affecting the function of her heart and her lungs. Very quickly she was confined to a hospital bed and after running some more tests, the doctors informed us that her condition was terminal and she would probably be most comfortable receiving some hospice care at home until her passing. Every morning I would awake and see the fragile remnant of what was once my superhero.

The woman who was once my definition of strength now struggled to catch her breath from simple tasks like sitting up in bed. The doctors had estimated that she had 30 days left to live. And as each day passed, a part of me died, knowing that I was that much closer

to losing the most important. important woman in my life. One evening, I snuck out of the house after my mother had fallen asleep for the night. Her struggling breaths and the beep of the heart monitor flooded my mind and my heart with grief, and it was more than I could bear. I didn't know where I was heading, but I couldn't spend another minute in that house. I just needed some fresh air to reset. It was a warm summer evening that at any other time would have been comfortable and relaxing.

but the combination of anxiety and sadness left recurrent shivers dancing along my skin. Each building I passed in my little hometown felt at once both familiar and foreign, due to my current situation being in such stark contrast with my happy memories here from the past. I saw the park where my mother and I would feed the ducks bread after school and couldn't help but think how my mother would never set her feet on the lush green grass along the shore of the pond ever again. I passed by the supermarket, and although there were many faces of people I grew up with among the crowd of patrons, every face felt cold, gray, and empty.

As I was passing the schoolyard where I had waited countless days for my mother to pick me up after she had gotten off of work, a young girl poked my back. She handed me a business card, asking if I had dropped it. The card was weathered and frayed, and bore the indents of the pavement that were impressed upon its face by others who had trodden upon the card prior to it finding its way into my hands. While worn, the text on the face of the card was clear. When all hope has been lost, we will help you find it again.

It's never too late for a miracle. second-chance healers, followed by a phone number at the bottom. I wondered for a moment if it was fate that led this card to my hand. Feeling like I had nothing to lose, I called the phone number on the card, which was promptly answered by a receptionist. The receptionist acknowledged the urgency of my mother's situation and told me a doctor would stop by our house the following day.

Knowing what the doctors at the hospital had said previously about there being no treatment for my mother. I was expecting a similar answer from this doctor, but anything was worth a try. The next morning, a black BMW pulled up to the front of my house and out stepped a short man wearing a black suit and carrying a black leather bag. As the man approached my front door,

I stepped out to meet him on the porch. The man said, in a heavy accent, that he was here to see Mrs. Stevenson. As I got a closer look at the man, I could see that he wore round, framed glasses and had a ghastly pale complexion. Right this way, sir, I said, as I led him into the house. The doctor examined my mother and listened closely to her heartbeat and breathing for a long while. While listening through his stethoscope, the doctor focused intently on his watch. I hadn't realized it at first, but I had been holding my breath for the duration.

of this examination. Slowly, the man straightened up and spoke. The doctor gave me my mother's prognosis. She was very sick. Her heart wants to stay strong, but what it wants and what is able to do are not the same. Luckily, I had called him in time to save her. The man produced an unmarked pill bottle and poured a single capsule into my hand, stating that, this is the treatment she will need. She will soon return to the strong woman she once was. What is it? I asked. He waved his hand dismissively, telling me the what was not important.

This would save my mother. The cost of the treatment is $15,000. How do you know it will work? I asked. He looked me straight in the eye when he told me that it would work. He went over the side effects that she could encounter while she adjusts, some anxiety and paranoia, but have no doubts the treatment will save the life of my mother. One single pill will fix her? I asked.

The doctor said nothing, but nodded in confirmation. Knowing what the other doctors had said previously, I was skeptical that any single pill could help her, but if there was a chance, any chance at all, I had to take it. I agreed to the doctor's proposal. I spoke with my bank and had used my entire savings, but I paid the doctor for the pill.

Once payment was made, the doctor assured me that I would not be disappointed before closing his bag and leaving my home. Staring at the pill, I prayed that the treatment would do what the doctor had promised. I gave the pill to my mother before going to bed and prayed for a miracle. That night, my sleep was fitful and broken, filled with dreams of being lost and alone.

When I woke, I quickly realized that I could not hear the sounds of my mother's heart monitor. Fearing the worst, I ran into her room and discovered that she was not in her bed. I searched frantically through the house, but was relieved when I discovered my mother sitting on a bar stool, cooking eggs in the kitchen. She smiled at me apologetically, saying that she was sorry. she didn't mean to startle me. She was hungry and didn't want to wake me. Tears filled my eyes.

I ran to my mother and threw my arms around her and I told her I was so thankful to see her feeling better. In her eyes, I saw a spark of life that had been missing for so long. I told my mother to let me finish breakfast and escorted her back to her bed to rest. In the coming days, my mother's strength returned quickly. Before long, she would be able to. was back to the woman I once knew. My mother again was waking up early to go on walks and had taken

it upon herself to tidy up the house while I was at work. I was absolutely amazed. I had no idea what the doctor had given her, but I was so thankful for improvement that I truly didn't care. In the coming days, my mother complained of a feeling like she had taken too much caffeine. When I felt her pulse, it was clear to me that her heart was beating much faster than was normal for a woman of her age. Calling the business card again, I spoke with a woman who assured me that an elevated pulse rate was normal with the treatment and that I needed to pay special attention to ensure that my mother was able to relax and deal with any anxiety that may result from the elevated pulse.

When I told my mother that the doctor said the increased pulse was normal, she seemed distant. She knew her body, and something wasn't right. I assured her that everything she was feeling was normal and that it may feel weird for her body to be working normally again after struggling for so long. But not to worry, everything was going to be okay. My mother leaned in close and whispered in my ear

that there is something inside her and it doesn't belong. Mom, everything is okay. I promise you have nothing to worry about. My mother went silent for a long while and stared blankly at the wall. Figuring she needed some time to rest, I guided my mother back to her bed and stayed with her until she was asleep. The next morning, I awoke with an uneasy feeling in my gut. I went to check on my mother and found that my mother's nightgown and sheets were soaked in blood.

My mother had dug her fingernails into the skin of her chest, peeling away long ruts of flesh. She was yelling that it didn't belong. It needs to come out. I called 911 and requested an ambulance. At the hospital, the doctors were forced to restrain my mother to keep her from digging more at her chest. My mother's wounds were cleaned and bandaged,

but after a thorough examination, the doctors weren't able to find anything else wrong with her. The doctors called it a miracle and said that if they weren't seeing it themselves, they wouldn't have believed that a woman in her condition would have made any improvement at all, let alone reach the strengths she exhibited when trying to free herself from the restraints. Unfortunately, due to the gashes in her chest and her unstable demeanor, my mother was admitted to the hospital for a 24-hour mental health hold

to ensure that she wouldn't cause further damage to herself or others. During her stay in the hospital, my mother had reported that her, her body was not her own, and that something else was inside her and wanted her body for itself. The doctors told me that my mother was suffering from severe anxiety resulting in paranoid delusions, but would be fine with the right treatments. The doctors prescribed pills for me to give to my mother to help her relax and released her into my care once she had calmed down. Following my mother's returned from the hospital, things seemed off. My mother was reluctant to take the pills that the doctors had prescribed for her anxiety

and often spent long periods staring at nothing. When I would ask her if she was okay, it seemed to momentarily break her trance, and she would respond that she was perfectly fine and had just been thinking. While I may have accepted this response the first few times, the frequency of these occurrences left me feeling uneasy in the pit of my stomach. Then, about a week after her discharge from the hospital, my mother took to biting her nails as a sort of nervous habit. While this was unlike her, I was not entirely concerned about the emergence of this behavior

due to everything she had been through in the last few weeks. I told myself that I would keep an eye on it, and if it got any worse, I would reach out to the doctor and get a medical opinion of what else could be. be done to alleviate the stress as she was facing. A couple of days later, I woke and went to check on my mother before heading to the kitchen to cook breakfast. When I passed by the living room, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my mother sitting in her recliner with her fingers in her mouth.

I wasn't sure why, but my body stopped me in my tracks with the feeling that something was very wrong. When my eyes focused in on my mother, more detail came into view. I could see that my mother had not only chewed through her fingernails, but was now biting into the flesh at the tips of her fingers while staring emptily into the distance. Blood covered her teeth and was running down her hand and dripping onto her gown. Mom, what are you doing? I called out.

This seemed to break her from her trance and she looked down at her hand, surprised to see the blood. She gasped and apologized immediately, saying that she didn't even notice. Something is very wrong in her body. It doesn't belong to her anymore. Something else is inside her, and it doesn't belong. She can feel it moving. Worried my mother was having another anxious breakdown,

I hurriedly retrieved my mother's pills at a glass of water to hopefully reduce what she was feeling. After giving her the medication, I began bandaging my mother's hands to cover the wounds and prevent any further injury. Once her wounds were covered, I called the phone number on the business card and asked to speak with the doctor. After a long hold, the familiar, heavy accent came on the line. I updated the doctor regarding the events that had transpired with my mother, and he replied that she must control her anxiety.

The treatment is bonded with her. with her and will help to keep her strong, but she must accept it if they are to live in harmony. Confused by his response, I asked the doctor to clarify what he meant by they, but he merely repeated that her anxiety would render the treatment ineffective and must be addressed immediately. I ended my conversation with the doctor, feeling more confused and concerned than before. Looking at my watch, I could see that I was all. already running late for work. I asked my mother if she would be okay until I got home,

to which she replied that she would. I promised her that when I got home, I would take her back to the hospital to hopefully figure out what was going on. I returned home from work later that day, and nothing appeared out of place other than my mother not greeting me when I entered the door like she had every day previously. I rushed to her bedroom to find it empty. I called out my mother's name repeatedly and searched the house top to bottom she was not in the living room or kitchen which tended to be the other places she frequented and there was no note left out to conclude that she had left finally i happened upon the only door in the house that was locked the bathroom using the key above the door i unlocked the bathroom and entered unaware

and unprepared for the horrors that i would find inside As I pushed the door open, I heard a wet, tearing sound that seemed strangely familiar. The floor of the bathroom was slick with the crimson red of fresh blood, and my mother sat unclothed with her back against the bathtub. There was only then that I discovered what was making the noise. In my mother's hands, she had gripped a serrated steak knife that she had plunged into her torso just below the rib cage, and was sawing away at the flesh.

Mom, what the hell are you doing? I screamed as I rushed to get the knife away from her. My mother snarled at me, commanding me not to fucking touch her that it doesn't belong and she was getting it out. Please, Mom, there's nothing inside you. Please stop, I begged as I reached for the knife. In one quick motion,

my mother pulled the knife from inside herself and slashed it across my hand with enough force to cut straight to the bone. I clutched my hand tightly to my chest and stumbled backwards, amazed at what had just happened. Without missing a beat, my mother plunged the knife back into herself and continued sawing. I ran as fast as I could, back to the kitchen and grabbed my cell phone from the counter. I called 911 and begged them to send help as soon as possible before hanging up and running back to. to the bathroom. But I reached the doorway.

I was shocked by what I saw. My mother no longer held the knife, but out of the wound in her abdomen, long, white, stringy, worm-like appendages had emerged and were writhing wildly. My mother began to grab these appendages and gather as many as possible into her hands. Once she felt she had gathered enough,

she began to pull. The more my mother pulled, the more desperately the remaining worms wriggled trying to get away. Finally, I heard a loud pop as my mother gave one solid tug. My mother slumped back against the tub, her arms falling limply to her side, and a rictus grin on her face.

Without thinking, I ran to my mother and cradled her in my arms. I noticed that she wasn't breathing. I was heartbroken and felt tears streaming down my cheeks, but my rush of emotion was interrupted by white-hot pain surging through my arm. I looked down to see that one of the white appendages had wormed its way into the open wound on my hand. I pulled the worm-like creature out of my wound and jumped back in horror. As I watched, the wriggling of the white worms slowed and eventually ceased. I heard pounding at the door as the paramedics arrived.

at the house. I let them in and guided them to the bathroom where my mother lay unmoving. One of the paramedics, shocked by what he saw, had to step back out of the bathroom to recompose himself before re-entering and attempting to render aid for my mother. I couldn't watch it anymore. I was feeling lightheaded, so I went to the living room and sat down on the couch. Seeing the volume of blood seeping through my shirt where it was wrapped around my hand, one of the emergency medical staff asked to see my injury so she could clean and bandage it. As I unwrapped the shirt from my hand, I was shocked to see that there was no injury on my hand. I was bewildered at the sight. It was there just minutes ago. I didn't have long to think

on this, however, because a police officer approached me and asked me to give a statement. I told the officer everything I knew about what had happened. I mentioned the business card, my mother's spontaneous recovery, and the subsequent symptoms she had complained about following the treatment. I turned the tattered business card over to the officer and gave a description of the doctor who had come to my home. I don't know if it was due to shock or the grief of losing my mother, but the rest of that day became largely a blur. I can remember my mother being wheeled out of my home in a black body bag by the coroner, and I remember my friend stopping by to pick me up so I wouldn't have to be alone. But that's all I remember from the rest of that day. The next morning,

I returned home, going to pick up some clothing, then booked a hotel room for a few days to give myself some distance from everything that happened. Two days after my mother's death, I received a call from the coroner's office. They had completed my mother's autopsy. and were shocked by what they had discovered. According to the coroner, the white appendages I had seen emerging from my mother's body were attached to a centralized mass

that had been attached to my mother's heart and lungs. It appeared that the unknown creature had been dependent on my mother's heart and lungs for survival and was providing assistance to her organs in order to keep her alive. This explained her quick and spontaneous recovery and the feelings she was experiencing of something being,

foreign inside her body. The coroner told me that he had never seen a creature of this sort. As a result, he sent samples of the creature out for testing and hopefully identification. But this would take time. A detective from the police department

reached out to me as well and told me that the phone number on the business card I provided was out of service and the previous records had the number registered to Second Chance Heelers LLC, but there were no other records of this organization having ever existed. They had also followed up with my bank, but the credit card transaction was processed by a third-party

vendor who was unable to supply any information which would help us in locating the organization. For all intents and purposes, second-chance healers vanished off the face of the earth. With no other leads, the case surrounding my mother's death went stagnant. My mother's funeral took place one week after her death. After laying my mother to rest, I did my best to block out the horrors I had experienced and instead be thankful for the extra days I got with her. For a while, this helped, but something had happened today that brought everything flooding back to me tenfold.

My hand itched today in the spot where my mother had sliced me with the knife. I scratched the itch. but instantly felt my heart drop when I saw something thin, wriggling underneath my skin. 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 Life license. or with written consent from the authors.

No portion of this podcast may be rebroadcast or otherwise distributed without the express written consent of the creepy podcast production team and the story's author.