Creepy - The Holders 67-70

Episode Date: February 24, 2024

67. The Holder of the Cosmos***68. The Holder of the Negative***69. The Holder of the Mind***70. The Holder of the Map***Stories can be found at: https://theholderseries.wordpress.com/***Sound design by: Samii Taylor 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. Which, listener discretion is advised. Creepy presents.

The Holders series. Number 67. The Holder of the Cosmos. In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. Get the front receptionist's attention and ask to visit someone called Holder of the Cosmos. He will look you up and down. If he mutters and walks away, stay in place.

He will return momentarily. Upon his arrival, he will unlock a trap door beneath his desk and motion for you to follow. He will lead you down an ancient creaking staircase made of wooden planks. It remains somehow suspended in an impossibly large room, the sides or bottom of which you will not be able to fathom. The only light will be from the quickly receding entryway. Vast, hulking shapes lumber in the darkness. I recommend that you do not make any noises louder than the gentle squeaking of the stairs. Your guide will remain only a few steps ahead of you,

but in the oppressive darkness, his features remain unclear. You will be descending the stairs for what seems like in eternity. During this time, do not let your thoughts wander. Focus entirely on your objective, the keeper of the cosmos. As you sink farther into the blackness, wooden plank swaying beneath your feet, your guide's form may seem to shift. It is not a trick of your eyes. If he stops at any time, throw yourself from the stairs.

immediately. An eternity of falling would be preferable to his torment. However, should he continue to move, you will eventually begin to feel a wind pick up. Far below you, the tops of trees will become visible. Above your head, a vault of stars and clouds. To your sides, a vast and unimpeded horizon. save for one structure far to your right. As you descend further, you can see it is a mansion with a small dirt road leading from it. This part of the descent is incredibly peaceful and will last for several hours. Enjoy it, but do not, under any circumstances, look back from where you came. The rickety staircase will collapse, and you will plummet to your death.

Eventually you will reach the bottom of the stairs. They will have deposited you in a thickly wooded forest, a few yards from a dirt road. Your guide will stop moving. In the sparse shafts of moonlight filtering down between the trees, you will notice that he has changed considerably. where once stood a man now stands a hellish hulking beast. He will begin to turn. You must run. The staircase you recently descended will have disappeared.

Your only choice is the road. The demon is slow, but he will not relent. Run. Run until your lungs burn and your chest heal. Eve, run until your throat is slick with blood, until you cannot run any longer. Give up hope, fall to your knees, weep. You will feel the demon's breath at your heels, and you will mumble a prayer into the dirt road as you see your life flash before your eyes.

At that very moment, as you have lost all hope, a gunshot will roar into the void of the darkened forest road, the demon at your back will have been slain. The next moment is crucial. No matter how winded you are, you must stand up and immediately say, Who is their enemy? If you wait a split second too long, you will be blown to bits in a similar fashion to the demon. However, if you are fast enough, an elegantly dressed gentleman on a horse will trot out

of the darkness a few steps down the road. He appears rather young and is holding an ornately crafted 18th century pistol in his right hand. He has several large tomes strapped to the saddlebags of his horse, and bits of script in a foreign language are visible, pasted, and a fashionable way to various bits of his clothes. then. He will slowly approach you, making no move to dismount, but visibly interested in your appearance. You must hold his gaze until he disappears in the opposite direction. Following this exchange, your exhaustion will suddenly catch up with you, and you will find it increasingly difficult to stay awake. Give in to your weariness and sleep.

You will awake the next day in your bed, clutching a rough piece of paper. On it, in an elegant script, are written the words, You are a fool. That man is the holder of the cosmos, and he still holds Object 67 of 538. He defends the cosmos from their revival, Now that he knows your intentions, he will do anything to stop you. There is, however, an alternate option.

You must already bear the widowmaker for this to work. Instead, when you rise, ask the holder not who is their enemy, but instead show him object 186. If you do, his eyes will widen in surprise and he will dismount. In his hand will be the white, ornate, 18th century pistol he used moments previously to save you. It is the brother of Object 186. He will then ride into the distance, soon fading. The holder of the cosmos has relinquished the gravebringer.

Object 67. out of 538. Number 68. The Holder of the Negative. In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. Get the front receptionist's attention and ask to visit someone called Holder of the Negative. If the receptionist adamantly refuses to help you, immediately turn, leave the institution. institution behind and take the fastest possible route home.

After a fortnight of hiding, you will know whether their trackers have found you. However, if the receptionist merely nods at you with a stony expression and gestures for you to follow, do so. He will lead you to a seemingly innocent-looking hospital room and leave. As soon as the door locks, push the bed aside to reveal a decrepit wooden trash. door underneath. Use the bed to block the door. The clock is ticking and the sentinels are already on their way.

Open the trap door to find a dusty and grimy gray metal coffin and a shallow pit dug into the floor. Open the locks on the side and lift the lid. If the coffin is empty, lay yourself inside and close both the trap door and the coffin lid. If there is somebody already in there, I would recommend trying to snap your own neck before the coffin's previous resident does. You must lie inside the coffin for exactly four minutes and thirteen seconds. Until this time, do not open the lid.

What would come to pass if you did is beyond the description of mortal men. When the required time is passed, you may knock twice on the middle of the middle of men. metal lid. If there is no answer, knock thrice more. If the coffin trembles slightly in response, you may push the lid off. If the coffin remains silent, you know your life expectancy is now a minute at best. Push the lid aside to emerge in what seems like the dark, blasted remains of a bizarre underground machine shop. The blot is a blot. stoker metal walls and the gray dust of time over the disengaged, quiet computing devices speak in their own way. About the hundreds of thousands of battles which were planned,

organized and miserably lost in the very same room you are now sitting in. As alien and intricate the machinery may be, don't dally. Rise to your feet and reach your right hand out to find a wall. fumble around until you find a metal lever sticking out of it. It's roughly at your shoulder level. If the room starts to emit an increasingly loud whirring, do not panic. Instead, call out sternly into the blackness. It's the last piece of knowledge we require. If the whirring dies down, continue your search.

If it doesn't, the machinery will engage in the, their last integration routine with you as their target. When you find the switch, throw it. The last operational generator will start up with the painful wine, powering little else but a few good light fixtures around the floor. In the core of the still dim room, you will see a huge brass-colored and impossibly complex mechanical device, which most closely resembles a crossover between an opulent metal throne and a Victorian-era life support system.

Amidst the zigzagging tubes, pipes, valves, cogs, and plates, you can see a gaunt, inhumanly frail corpse, barely clinging to its life. As imitating as the throne may be, enter the creature's presence, and matter-of-factly utter the query, Who scared at them for the first time? Your question sparks a new light in his milky gray eyes. And with the spite and frustration of countless generations in his raspy, mechanically amplified voice,

he will recite to you all of the stories, all tales of vain heroism, every broken union, and all of the heart-wrenchingly disappointing failure, of all those who came before you. His contagious despair will punch through your skin, slither past your flesh, and pierce through your bones.

But take heed not to lose your focus. He is still their slave, and his corrupted side will readily consume you if given the opportunity. He will tell you of those who first knew of their convergence, how they scattered the objects and broke their unholted. Holy Union and what made those first fail and perish. When he is done, he will slowly and painfully extend his hand out to you from within the metal

shell. Do not take his hand. Instead, cross your arms across your chest and exclaim, Your flawed routines are not mine to embrace. Leaning against one of the mysterious devices is a thin, too, pronged metal staff. Grab it and using all the power you can possibly muster, drive it through the only exposed vital part in his body, his head. His death will be swift. When his rotten body and the infernal device lie silent, reach inside the metal shell protecting the body and fumble

around the inner workings of the machine. As soon as your hand hits apart pulsing heat, yank it out. It should come off easily. Retreat as fast as you can back into the zinc coffin. You have killed the only entity which upheld the order of the place, and it won't be long until the room is going to unmake itself and crumble into the void. Slam down the lid, close your eyes, and if you are lucky, you will near instantly drift off into sleep. When you wake up, you wake up, You will wake up in your own home, in your own bed, tightly hugging a warm chunk of metal to your chest. You would be wise to get rid of the coffin around you at the earliest opportunity.

It evokes awkward questions. This corrupted golden spear is Object 68 of 538. Number 69. Holder of the mind in any town in any country go to any mental institution or rehabilitation clinic approach the front desk and ask to see someone who calls themselves the holder of the mind there will form a look of reluctance on the employee's face which they will hold just long enough that it is barely visible then you will be led down a hallway ending at a flight of stairs

the attendant will leave you at this point. Ascend the stairs. They will go on for what seems like miles. If your step falters at any time, or you take time to rest, even a moment of respite, your focus will quickly lose clarity until it fades away entirely. If your consciousness returns thereafter, you may find yourself at whatever place you call home, and the institution will have essentially vanished from existence. If this is the case, think whatever entity you wish that the least likely outcome came to pass.

If your consciousness does not return, then you are still fortunate. You did not awaken to find yourself where your more ill-fated predecessors arrived. When you at last reached the apex of the staircase, you will find yourself in a delight. lappitated hallway, appearing as some portion of a high-rise building. The wall to your left will have many doors. Do not open any of them under any circumstances, regardless of what sensations you feel urging you to do so. These feelings are scarcely more than base trickery. The doors restrain segments of your psyche mercifully shut away. To free them now is a grave mistake. The wall to your right is composed entirely of glass.

Looking out this enormous window reveals whatever place you were born in, though entirely empty and devoid of life. Walk the hallway. Its length is variable, so this may take even longer than your recent climb. At the opposite end, you will see a set of double doors. Unlike the many other doors in the hallway, you must open this one. though you may feel reluctance to do so. This is natural. Your mind is still trying to protect you.

Overcome this feeling and step into the blackness within. Before long a single spotlight will turn on from somewhere in the darkness above you, and all things within the spotlight will be made clear. Through its reflected light, you can see the surrounding area very slightly illuminated. It is best that you do not look too closely at the shifting images beyond the region of clarity. The rings on the ground will indicate to you that you are in some kind of a circus tent, standing in the center ring. Across from you is a stout man with a flamboyant appearance, wearing a lustrous top hat that shades his eyes, blocking them from your view. Ask him.

What in me have they obscured? Speak clearly, and more importantly, speak loudly. Speak as though you are addressing a crowd of thousands, or the ringmaster before you will have to remove you from the stage in a manner aimed to please the beings currently watching. There a sense of entertainment differs significantly from that of any human. Hope that you do not find out how. If you appease the ringmaster, he will crack his whip.

The sound will seem impossibly loud and will be accompanied by a blinding flash of light. He will be gone and in this place to other people will have appeared. To your left stands the object of your hatred, whomever you have borne more resentment towards than any other you have known. To your right, the one most dear to you. Living or dead, these people will appear in the flesh in front of you. Approach your mortal enemy, and wordlessly you will hand you a knife. You will feel a strong compulsion to drive it into his chest.

You must resist this urge at all costs. Instead, you must use it to carve the heart from your loved one. They will be conscious throughout and will scream relentlessly for you to stop, crying out to understand why. Do not listen and do not hesitate in your task. For the audience wishes to see the weak shed blood, and you do not wish to prove you are a valid candidate. Retrieve the heart and pass it to the ringmaster who now stands behind you.

You will then tell you in great detail your first thought that compelled you to take up your present journey and all contexts surrounding it. For some, this once obscured knowledge replacing a false construction of the mind can drive them to such desperation as to plunge the knife into their own chest. If you resist this temptation, your vision will blacken and you will regain consciousness in whatever place you were born. The knife you used will lie next to you. It will be a coarse red, forever stained with the blood of all lives you have caused to end. The knife is object 69, a 538.

Number 70. The holder of the map. In any city and any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself. The holder of the map. The man or woman will not look up from their reading materials. Memorize the page number. Repeat yourself firmly.

The man or woman will look up, annoyed. They will make a snide comment. If you hear another moron, you have found the right place. If there is any other comment, he will lie to you. The man will then start by giving you directions. You will not be able to write them down,

no matter how hard you try. If you don't follow the directions exactly, you will get lost. You will find yourself outside the institution. This is the worst fate you can imagine. If you follow the directions, you should hear a sound as if an infinite number of hands are writing. This sound will increase as you near your goal. Should this ever stop?

breathe deep and yell any information you have about where you started at. Including your directions on how to get there, the writing should start up again. If it didn't, you will have to go back to where you began and start again. Don't get lost. At the end of the directions, you should see a door with an electronic lock. The number is stained with blood. Stop immediately and you will hear a giggle. Don't turn around.

A voice will start speaking under the now deafening sound of quills on paper. Ignore it and whisper one question. He will go into grotesque detail about an ancient battlefield. At the point when he stops talking, input the number of the page the receptionist was reading from. You will wake up in the nearest church to the institution. You will be lying on a map. The map is Object 70 of 538. It will guide you anywhere you need to go,

but not to the location of the other pieces. 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 Creepard.com. pod 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.