Creepy - The Holders 161 - 164

Episode Date: August 24, 2024

161. The Holder of Loss***162. The Holder of Sickness***163. The Holder of Decay***164. The Holder of Devotion***Stories can be found at: https://theholderseries.wordpress.com/***Sound design by: Samii Taylor***Music credit: "Don't Die on Me", "Deadly Sorrow", "Bad Encounter", "Moonlight Menschen" by Myuu Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

No. 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 violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. Creepy presents. The Holder's series.

Number 161. The Holder of Loss. In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself into. When you reach the front desk, put on your most skilled face of desperation and anguish, and then clutch the edge of the desk and sobbed the words, I've lost myself.

Will you help me find me? To the countermaid, should she make a face of maternal love and try to console you, then they have found you, and her words of compassion are the last words of kindness you hear before your macabre demise.

Should she put on a face of disgust and spit a cruel and out-of-character retort of, I'm not your mother. Go find someone cares. You have succeeded in this part of the quest. Steal your gaze and retort. Fine. I'll go where I'm loved. Then immediately turn around and walk to the door.

If you vary from this exact conversation, it is advised to end your life on the spot because no vehicle can take you far enough away from the beasts of the dark the holder has unleashed on you. If you have survived, close your eyes and clutch the door handle. Think of your warmest memories with the ones you love, and open the door and step through. Once you have passed through the door, keep your eyes tightly clenched shut for 11 seconds. No more, no less, then open them. You will be in the place and time

of the happy memory you thought of, yet you will be watching as a third party. You must immediately run for cover, lest your past self see you. You will know if you have succeeded in this if you remain behind your cover for 30 seconds. For if you had been seen, the fabric of reality would have torn asunder, and both you and your past self would have been ripped from your lives and been sucked into the void, erasing you from the hearts and minds of those you will never forget. Once you have hidden, you must wait in silence. Eventually the memory will vary from its truth

And at this point you must lunge out of your hiding spot And scream at yourself You are an illusion! Take your true form! At this Your surroundings will fade away into darkness And all that will remain is you and your past self Its eyes now blazing with hatred that you have spoiled its fun At this point it is best if you had come armed

or had been trained in some sort of martial art because your past self will heave itself at you with an improbable strength you know you did not possess at the time you must not falter at this assault wait till you are only one foot from yourself then lash out and strike the demon in the throat if you fail you will be torn limb from limb by your own hands if you succeed the creature will collapse to the ground unconscious

despite whether or not your blow is capable of such damage. You must then crouch by yourself and whisper this, and only this, into its ear. What is the loss one must suffer? If you whispered anything else, the apparition will regain consciousness and clutch at your ankles, toppling you over, and then proceed to disembowel you with its teeth. However, should you utter the right question, the illusion of you will fade to reveal the true hold a pale naked man with no face in its place. The man will then rise and you must gaze into exactly where his eyes would be.

If your gaze falters, your punishment for your disrespect is indescribable by the human tongue. Once the man has risen, he will begin to speak and you will hear his gruff voice from every angle enticing you to turn and look for the source. But you must resist. He will weave a tale of how men first faltered in the beginning of the object's time, forgetting themselves in their search for power. He will tell you of every man who lost his soul to his greed and what became of him.

This knowledge may not seem traumatic, but it will haunt you for the rest of your days, bringing unquestionable depression to your every waking minute. After his speech, you must respond with, I bear no greed. I will lose all I have before I lose myself. At this, the man's every bone will shatter, and he will crumple into a heap, his flesh reforming on the floor before you. At this grotesque sight, regardless of your mental strength, you will vomit and then black out, collapsing into the squirming puddle of blood and flesh.

When you awaken, you will be outside of the home of the wind. one you hold dearest. And in your pocket will be a wallet made out of the man's pallid flesh. Open the wallet to find a nameless ID picturing yourself with a faceless man standing behind you. This ID is Object 161 of 538. Number 162. The Holder of Sickness In any city in any country, quote any mental institution or hot. hospital, go to the front desk and ask to visit the holder of sickness. The worker will shudder and begin to sweat profusely, retching and clawing at his skin. He'll take you down a long

white hall, and you will feel so sick that you'll double over in pain. You will become feverish. Your nose will bleed and your eyes will cloud with infection. You will vomit and soil yourself profusely and want to lie down in your now filth and crusted clothes. But do not succumb to sickness, or you will lose your way and be cursed to wander these empty white halls forever. The attendant, now covered in virulent sores and postules, will collapse and be taken away by faceless nurses, leaving you at a small metal door, slick with fresh blood.

The door will open to another white hallway, with buzzing fluorescent lights and peeling paint. It is so long you cannot see the end. Do not think about the attendant, as he is beyond anyone's help now. As you walk down the long hallway, you will see doors appear on either side of you containing surgical suites. Nurses and doctors with pale contorted and eyeless faces surgically mutilating patients that might have once been human, but barely resemble them now. The patients, screaming, in pieces, an elaborate bondage and decaying on operating tables,

are so gruesome that it will be difficult to look away. Nevertheless, you must not allow your eyes to linger on the patients, the doctors, or anything in these rooms, or you will become one of these unfortunate patients, one of these failed seekers, You're suffering eternal and more acute than the deaths of a thousand cancer patients. If you feel yourself being sucked by an invisible source into one of the rooms, all hope is already lost. Resign yourself to being on the operating table, splayed, immortal, fully conscious and experiencing the hell of waking surgery for all time. If this happens, your only prayer is that time ends one day. If you manage to reach the end of the hallway without going mad or becoming one of the patients,

you will reach another small metal door. This one crusted with old brown blood and viscera. It is open. Claw your way through the crust around the frame and walk through the door. Inside is a small, immaculate, and bright, room that stinks of anesthesia, disinfectant, and old blood. The only sound to be heard besides your heart beating in your throat is the buzz of the fluorescent lights, which, in combination with a terrible feeling accompanied by the room itself,

is enough to drive some mad. In the middle of the room, prominently set, will be a high-tech gurney surrounded by all manner of equipment. In the gurney, strapped down tightly, lies a pale child, his bright blue eyes staring up at the light in terror. He will cry bitterly and beg you to help him to escape. He must resist the urge to pity him, for if you do, he will become a doctor and he will become his patient.

You must only ask, What lies inside? The child will convulse in misery and begin to cry more pitifully. them before. You must now search for what you came for. Take a scalpel and cut where you will, for the object you seek is somewhere inside this child. He will be fully conscious, and his screams of pain will echo through the small room so loudly

that deafness and madness may begin to afflict you. Work quickly. Saw through bones, cut out organs, and lift layers of mucosa and viscera to seek out this object. He will begin to change shape as you operate on him. He will turn into your oldest friend, your child, your parents, your spouse, and even yourself, and beg you to stop. You must not stop, even for a second.

Because his organs and flesh will regenerate. And if he regenerates completely, he'll turn his attention to his tormentor. Search every inch. Squeeze every content from his intestines. Slice open his brain and search every crevice. Feel your way through every layer of his muscles and turn every organ inside out until you find a soft egg-like item

about the size of an eyeball. Carefully peel off the membrane to reveal a small black tumor covered in white and yellow pus that smells horrific, pulsates and squirts all manner of putrid fluid. Burn the membrane and take care to put the tumor somewhere where it will never be touched by bare hands or have its stench inhaled.

This tumor is object 162 of 538. Keep it quarantined or it will spread. 163. The holder of decay. In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution, hospital, or halfway house you can get yourself to. Walk up to the front desk and ask to visit someone who can get you. calls himself, the holder of decay.

The attendant will look at you with a distressed expression and begin to picket his skin. He will, a few seconds later, lead you to a slimy and corroded door deep within the institution and leave in a hurry, scratching at his skin and cursing until he disappears down the hallway, leaving a trail of mucus. Enter the door to be assailed by the sickening smell of rot. one step in and have a look around. A room of crumbling brick, sticky walls dripping with a foul, unidentifiable substance, and filled wall to wall with rotted bodies and other organic matter. Decayed and writhing with insects and parasites. So many worms and insects the sound is deafening.

The wet and fetid sound of mandibles, legs, and the consumption of decay. Walk a little further towards the center of the room until you see the nude and green modeled corpse of a woman hanging illuminated by light coming from an unseen source. As soon as you lay eyes on her, thousands of crawling insects will burst into action, crawling up the walls, down the cable, and onto the woman. Thousands of worms, centipedes, millipedes, maggots, earwigs, silverfish, and countless other identifiable creatures will cover her, and she will raise her purulent head and open her eyes to reveal parasitic worms wriggling under the membranes. Other insects will cover you, and you must not react in any way.

She will reach out her arm of thousands of scribbling legs and touch her face with its thousands of slimy feelers, legs, and antennae. If you show the slightest sign of discomfort or disgust, you will be able to be able to be able to be condemned to rot here for eternity, fed on by vermin and fully conscious. You must only ask, How long will you rot? She will open her mouth as wide as your head, revealing thousands of red centipedes. You must now keep your eyes open from here on in.

If you close them for longer than it takes to blink, your suffering will make hers look pleasant in comparison. She will take your head in her giant black maw of a mouth, and inside you will hear an agonizingly long tail of decay while the centipedes nibble your flesh, crawl into your mouth, nose and ears, and their sharp little legs scrape your eyeballs. When she is finished, she will release you from her maw and you will be permitted to search under all the insects and decay for the object. The insects will begin reproducing at an incredible rate, and they're sure that you.

volume, which was once down at your ankles, will now rise to your knees, your hips, and beyond. They will begin to eat you and burrow under your skin and threaten to consume you completely. You must use your sense of touch and find the object quickly. Take care not to slip on the decay underneath you. If you fall down, you don't have a hope in hell of ever escaping this place. If you are lucky enough to find the item before you are eaten or suffocated by the ever-growing legion of insects, you must consume it as soon as you acquire it. Any hesitation will result in failure.

In a small glass box is a decaying length of intestine full of insects and parasites, oozing and vomit-inducing. Consume this completely, and you will find yourself on the streets safe from all harm. but vomiting profusely. If you live through this, the item that remains is yours. This is Object 163 of 538. Number 164, a holder of devotion. Find the oldest house of ill repute in your city. Not an easy or particularly delightful task,

but only the oldest one standing will work. Once you are there, tell the first person you find that you have an appointment with the holder of devotion. If done correctly, the prompted person will stare blankly at you as if in a trance, and then turn around and walk into the whorehouse without saying a word. You must follow that person down a long hall engulfed in darkness.

As you walk in, you'll hear murmuring Saddam. voice whispering in your ear of untold pleasures, and as you go deeper, caressing hands will try to take you into the rooms at either side of the hall. Unless you wish to abandon your quest, do not let yourself be enticed into any of those rooms. For the voices you hear and the hands you feel are indeed female, but not human, and the pleasures they promise are not given free of charge, but for a price no man is prepared to pay. finally you'll find yourself at the end of the hall before a thick curtain, the person who led you here nowhere to be found.

If you are ready, walk past the curtain into a spacious room, the walls covered with drapery and the floor littered with cushions. As your eyes grow accustomed to the candlelit twilight and your senses numb with the thick incense in the room, you'll be able to distinguish the shape of a woman lying lazily on cushions in the far end of the room, her face totally covered by a veil. She'll signal you to get closer with a seductive movement of her finger, and you must approach her with no doubts in your mind. As you stand in front of her,

you'll feel her checking you around intently from behind the veil. Hope that she deems you worthy, for if she doesn't, she'll lift the veil from her face, and your mind will be destroyed at the sight. If she deems you worthy, though, she'll signal for you to lie at her side. Do so, and in seconds she will be all over you. You'll feel as if thousands of hands were caressing desperately at your body, bringing you unworldly and bizarre delight.

But right before you lose your mind, you need to ask her, Do they need us as we need them? If done correctly, as you mate with her, Your mind will be presented with unspeakable visions from long-lost times of corrupt worship and forbidden cults, while an unholy pleasure quicks through your body. If you manage to keep your sanity until the end, a powerful orgasm will shake you out of the trance and grant you clarity of mind. You must cease this moment to turn away from the room and from the building as fast as you can, not even stopping to grab your clothing.

You have precious few seconds before you black out, and you must make sure you are far, far away when you do. The next morning you'll wake up in your bed wondering if everything was just a bad dream. Someday, you'll find out that you were rendered sterile, though. And someday, exactly nine months after your adventure, you'll be woken up in the middle of the night by Lau pounding on your door. When you open the door, you'll find out. find a small cradle with a newborn girl bathed in blood.

Raise your daughter lovingly, for she's object 164 of 538. She'll never speak a word or make a noise, but her big, adoring eyes will always be set on you, following your very movement. As long as she's at your side, you'll never feel alone or depressed, and you'll never long for another kind of love or companionship.

However, for the sake of the world and your own wretched life, under no account should you let her live to see her 14th birthday. 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 common share-a-like licensing, 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 stories author.