Creepy - The House in the Woods

Episode Date: November 7, 2022

It's just one night...***Written by: Joseph Yenkavitch***Bonus Episode: "The Strangest Youtuber Apology Video you'll Ever Come Across" Written by: Authorjojo and Narrated by: Jimmy Ferrer***Content warning: Hangings***Tickets for the "Creepy" live show can be purchased at: https://bit.ly/BloodyFM***Check out our reward tiers at patreon.com/creepypod***Sound Design by Pacific Obadiah***Title music by Alex Aldea***Intro/Outro Narration by Joe Stofko Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Welcome to the bloody disgusting network. No. This is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing 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 biocations of biocations. Silence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised.

Creepy presents. The House in the Woods. Written by Joseph Yankovic. Don't get me wrong. I was thrilled to see it. But I still had to wonder what the hell was a house doing out here in the middle of the wilderness. All around me was a blanket of trees. A green carpet flowing to the far horizon without another roof.

top or even a curly cue of smoke from a campfire. And believe me, there's no road. I've been looking. When you're hopelessly lost and already five hours into a three-hour hike, anything resembling civilization is the holy grail. I've never been an avid hiker, but for some reason, totally out of character for me. I needed to get out of the city, the job, even friends, and escape to nature. whatever that means.

Well, it didn't take me long to drift off what I thought was a well-trodden path. Adding insult to injury, black clouds had begun slipping over the mountains with its gray feelers already subduing the blue sky above me. Lost, and then rain. How wonderful! I figured I'd be hunkering down at night in a wet forest, curling up in mud and wondering what nocturnal creatures be sniffing around. Nature was losing its appeal fast.

Even the stories imparted to me rather snidly from people in the village I left played on my mind. Eyeing my hiking equipment suitable for Central Park, they pointed out how plenty of people drifted into this area for a look-see and never made it out. They added, this time a bit more seriously, how no one ever found the bodies. I did have to admit that there were plenty of places to die out here and be quite unfindable.

So, seeing a house, actually a reflect outline through the trees, was definitely a spirit lifter. Maybe I was creating shapes out of desperation the way you make clouds look like anything. But it offered hope. I glanced at the approaching storm. The gauzy curtain of rain beneath the dark clouds already obscured the hills and mountains. A few drops of rain dark in my sleeve, ending any hesitation. I started down the path, which was never really a path, and more like a track roving animals might use.

Unfortunately, my meager trail tended to drift away from where I wanted to go, so I ended up stumbling through trees, feeling branches tugging at my knapsack and getting caught in my shirt like bony fingers. The atmosphere became darker, while water droplets began to, tapping more insistently on leaves. But at least I had a destination. I wasn't disappointed. Stumbling into a small weed choke clearing,

I stood before a rather substantial home. Substantial in size, but certainly not in terms of architectural design. The structure seemed more to mimic the forest surrounding it rather than being anything thoughtful. Odd shaped walls rarely came to right angles. Ruff lines were a bit haphazard, peak like treetops, and the dark rectangles of windows seem randomly placed. Additions were haphazard. Crooked stairs in front led up to a porch and an entrance.

Nowhere could a light be seen, which dampened my hope anyone would let me in. The place had the feeling that someone absently dropped it in here. As I approached, my foot kicked something. a Snickers wrapper Well, I thought Someone else had managed to discover this place Someone not exactly careful about litter I found a few other pieces of refuse

I picked it all up and shoved them into my pocket As I headed for the door to get out of the rain I heard something snap off to my right A young woman emerged with a swish of leaves being parted She too was dressed for hiking but her attire spoke of confidence in matters of the wilderness. Opening her eyes after pushing away spidery branches, she spied me and waved. Hello there, she said smiling.

Definitely an LLB model, I thought. It was hard to believe, but I said, Are you lost? Afraid so. It doesn't happen often, but this time everything got away from me. You too, although I hope not. She nodded solemnly when she said. She saw my expression, waved for me to follow her to the porch.

We climbed the steps and sit at the top, flicking water off her clothes and hair. The water mostly slid off her waterproof jacket. It pretty much soaked into mine. Candace, she said and threw it a hand. I grabbed it. Simon, I replied. She pulled a cell phone from her back pocket and shook her head. No bars.

Big surprise. She slid the hood from her head and leaned into a window, cupping her hands around her eyes. Looks like someone must live here, she said without turning. Furniture? Not a lot. Nothing special. Can't tell too much, though. I half listened as I turned and look back the way I come. How fully isolated this property really was hit me. I wondered. Maybe long ago there had been a way in here. but the occupants left and the forest took over. Hardly believable, but good enough for now.

Candace moved from the window to the door and knocked. A few times lightly, then a bit harder. The last time her knuckles hit the door, I felt a slight vibration in the porch. She did too, and glanced at me with a quizzical expression. I stepped back. The rain pelted the porch roof harder. Streamers of water dropped behind us. I shrugged.

I moved beside her and grabbed the doorknob. It surprised both of us when it turned easily. The door swung inward as though pulled from inside. I hesitated, but Candace immediately stepped through. As she did, I again fell out a momentary sensation as though the house had shivered. I couldn't be sure, but even my vision detected a slight blurring of the interior. I followed her inside. Did you feel that?

I asked. She only nodded, but I saw her press her foot against the floors of testing it for stability. Civility made me call out the usual... Hello? No answer, which didn't surprise me. I yelled again. My words dying in a gloom. My foot brushed again something that crackled and I saw another wrapper.

Off to the side was a soda bottle. Kind of a hotel for the lost, I thought. We'd broken into someone's home, but, you know, somehow I didn't feel like I needed to worry about that. True, all the furniture, unbroken windows, and lack of deterioration indicated some upkeep. But the place didn't feel occupied as much as something waiting. Everything felt like a set piece. The right objects were... here, but the little things were missing. Chotchkes, plants, magazines, something slightly

askew. It just didn't feel as though someone was about to come home. By now the wind had picked up outside and rain swept across the windows as though someone sprayed them with a hose. That might be breaking and entering, but that weather outside went a long way to ease my guilt. Well, Candace said like someone who'd made peace with the situation. At least we're dry. And tomorrow, I asked, which way do we go? That's for tomorrow. She smiled, and once again I noticed how attractive she was.

This was a person who could easily transform herself from an outdoors person to someone turning heads at a city affair. I obviously stared too long, and she shook her head with a sly smile. She walked her in the room, then stopped with a pensive look on her face. Her hand swept over the back of a chair and one finger slid up over the top of a lamp table. She held the finger up. Notice anything? What?

Meticulous homeowner. Not a speck of dust. I tested a few spots myself, same result. Maybe people come here more often than we think. The words rang hollow even as I said them. Candice's facial expression agreed. Do they helicopter in? She asked.

I doubt it. Think we should leave? She turned her head to the window, the glass being pelted even harder by the rain. Maybe not, she replied guardedly. Oddly, the increase in gust didn't seem to have the same noise factors earlier. Like the house had become more insulated from the sound. I plot myself in a chair.

Instantly, that same sensation, that quivering, I'd felt before. But this time, almost as though the cushions were made of jelly. It actually felt insubstantial. I jumped up quickly and got a startled glance from Candace. At the same moment, the sounds from outside became duller. Get to feeling things aren't quite right here, I pointed out again. Her eyes asked why. That chair just didn't seem permanent.

I swear it could just dissolve any minute. No, really. I sat down on the sofa, felt the same shuddering. When I glanced at the chair I'd sat in, it now appeared a bit misshapen like my body had altered it permanently. And, I added as I surveyed more of the room, Don't things seem a bit disjointed? Some lines are straight, but others seem especially askew.

That floor seems to want to turn into the wall at a poor angle. Odd that a wall would be partially straight and curved in an unstable direction. It's a house. An old one. Candice remarked giving me a get-a-grip look. Let's do a little exploring. By now, the house at home. lost any connection with the rainy world outside soundwise.

I felt the impulse to leave, but if you pinned me down, I couldn't tell you why. It was an ordinary house in every way, yet I didn't like it. The way it trembled when any part of it was touched. There was that my own mind imparting my own uneasiness to the building. Don't ask me why, but I suddenly bolted to the front door. I just knew for certain that the door that it opened so easily before wouldn't this time. I practically lunged for the doorknob and could hear a gasp from Candace. I twisted it hard as though struggling against a lock.

And it opened. As effortless as you please. The wind blew the streamers coming off the roof into my face. The sound of rain filled my ears. Still, I didn't move feeling the wetness penetrate my shirt. Finally, I felt Candace pull me back inside and close the door. What was that all about? She said, shaking her head.

Can't you feel this place? I replied. You felt the movement. Something's off here. Something is, she said with a knife edge. Then she softened. Let's look around. What can it hurt?

It's an odd place, yes, but it's pretty. protection for the night. I detected a bit of uncertainty in her voice. Wiping water from my face with my hand, I looked back at the door. I could walk out right now, get drenched, sure, but be free as a bird. The apprehension didn't completely leave me. And while I couldn't fight the logic of staying, I wasn't sure it was a good idea to go deeper into the house. Candace, whatever she fell deep down, tried the door across the

foyer like she lived there. It didn't open. She jiggled the handle to be sure it was locked. Front door open. Door inside locked. I started to say something, but thought better of it. That last look she gave me already, it labeled me an idiot. Kind of pissed me off, but I decided not to push things.

Maybe she was right, and I had an overactive imagination. Lightning flashed outside and there was a sound of something hitting the roof. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught pieces of debris all past the window. They looked like bricks. Looks like maybe the chimney got a direct hit? I said. Candace grunted. As we stood there, a small sound,

sort of like a sudden inhalation of surprise seemed to drift from the locked door. As we stood there, A small sound, sort of like a sudden inhalation of surprise, seemed to drift from the locked room. No, not surprise. More the... I don't know. Couldn't be a sound from outside. Those sounds had diminished considerably.

Did you catch a noise in the room? I sat and went back to the door trying the handle. I put my ear to the wood but heard nothing else. Hello? I spoke, my face inches from the door. I listened. Nothing. Candice, screwing up her eyes, took my arm and pulled me away.

I reluctantly moved with her. We'd reached a doorway that led into a dining room when I heard a creaking sound. I turned. What made it so strange was at that very moment, and I'm not sure I really saw it. A few of those irregular architectural features seemed to write themselves. I could have been looking at the wrong part of the wall for all I know. But it registered like the room had changed. Candace noticed the sound and her eyes narrowed.

But she said nothing about the changes. I kept quiet. We entered the dining room. Again, no dust anywhere. The table looked like it had just been pledged. A broken Coke bottle lay on a sideboard under the window. This time, though, something was different. The window had marks on it.

Scratches that didn't go deep, but that radiated from an impact area. I felt the roughness and tapped the window. It felt oddly dense. Someone seems to have wanted to break the window and may I use this bottle. I said, glancing about to room for any other. other indications of damage. Seeing the door to another room was a jar, I went in. Candace followed after tapping the window herself.

Everything you expect in the kitchen was there. Dated a bit, but not like being a century old, except the appliances were certainly of the basic type. They barely looked functional. The refrigerator when I checked was empty. The stove had two burners, no dishwasher. and the sink was flimsy metal. I turned down the water,

not even a gasp of trapped air. The cupboards had a few cereal boxes and cans. The table had an odd tilt to it. Peas would roll off the table, Candice said. But if she made an attempt to straighten it, and the table moved. She'd jump back with a gasp, grabbing her throat.

I pulled her next to me. the table had regained an appropriate shape. Still think things are up to snuff here? I figured she'd start leaning to my way of thinking, but she said nothing. Still, you could see her putting the pieces together. Okay, try this. Why do you think someone would want to break a window?

An unbreakable one, by the way. She still didn't answer. Usually when you're doing it from the inside, it's to get out, wouldn't you say? None of this makes any sense, she finally replied. It's a house. Oddly placed, I'll admit, but aren't you being a bit dramatic? The table fixed itself.

But back there, around the living room, I saw changes in the house's structure, little things. And they came after that sound I heard, whatever it was. I can't believe any of this, but you're doing a good job of getting me scared. I noticed some of her bravado had tempered. Does this place even feel like a real residence? It's full of things, but it feels like a stage set. It's a home in thought, but not serving the purpose of one.

You're losing me. Just one more thing. Something I noticed before we came in here. Come with me back to the foyer. This better be good. I'm coming. Okay, what is it? There, I pointed, but she didn't see what I'd observed.

That staircase going to the second floor. Notice anything wrong? She looked a moment, then her eyes went wide. That's right. Where the staircase turns, half the threads are in the wall. Bad carpenters? I rolled my eyes. Look, why don't we gather any bedding or whatever and spend the night on the porch?

The rain can't last forever, and it's not that cold out. If things get worse out there, maybe we could bunk down in the foyer, I'd rather not. I could see the wheels turning in her head. I have to admit, I'd much rather be cuddling together with her in a soft bed, but this time, practicality had taken precedence. All right. I could see she hated to back down. Let's just check outside to see if that's possible.

I could hear her mutter, I can't believe I'm doing this, as she walked to the front door. I caught up to her and grabbed the doorknob before she could. I turned it, or tried to. It didn't twist a millimeter.

I tried to. harder with both hands. The door that had easily opened before, stayed as tight as though nailed shut. What's wrong? Candice asked and tried the door herself. For the first time, I saw fear on her face. I too realized at that moment all my anxiety about what I saw wasn't as deep as I thought until this.

This one thing gave my fear an actual form. Could somebody be doing this? Candice asked, backing away into the foyer frantically glancing about. She then rushed into the living room, grabbed a lamp, and flung it against the window. It shattered against the glass, but the scratched window held. The house quivered. I don't see how it's anyone. I finally replied.

This far out? This isolated? That's just it. A perfect place for something. such a deranged person. I wasn't buying it. I went to her and grabbed her by the shoulders. It's no one.

No one could possibly be doing this. She tried to squirm away, but I held tight. It's the house! I yelled. She stopped squirming and eyed me in disbelief. Don't ask me how or why, but it's this place. I pulled her into a hug. We'll get out of this.

There has to be a way out. Her body started to relax, but then stiffened. She pulled away staring, but not at me. At first I saw nothing. Then I saw where the lamp had hit the window. The scratches had disappeared. The whole window, glass and gouged wood, had become pristine again.

The broken lamp lying against a baseboard, but had also partially reformed. I half expected it to move back to the table. I grabbed her arm and pulled her hard. We're getting nowhere standing here. Let's look for a way out. That seemed to snap her from a paralysis overtaking her, but she still had this defeated look on her face.

The afternoon was getting late, and I didn't want to be walking around the house in the dark. We went past the dining room. I looked in and saw that the wind, in there, it also healed itself. Such things weren't surprising me anymore. No doors let out of the kitchen, so he moved to the staircase going to the second floor. We crept up slowly. I checked the peculiar arrangement of steps halfway up. Three were half the size of the others, like someone wasn't paying attention as they were built with the rest of the steps obviously behind the wall. I grabbed Candice's

hand, pulling her to the top. She mumbled something. She'd be braver out in the wilderness, I figured. I glanced back down the stairs. The light had dimmed. The place hadn't been all that bright when we arrived, but the dying afternoon now let loose shadows that had waited in corners. The hallway above us was even darker. I remember Candace's cell phone. I asked for it and turned on the light. The beam illuminated the nearby hallway with a garish light that diminished into paleness. The doors to two rooms were closed. A sound. The unmistakable groan from a person stopped me. I looked back at Candace and there was no mistake. She'd heard it too. It came from the right side of the hallway. Again, I heard the almost suffocating groan only now it had become fainer.

I started for the room but felt Candace's hand gripped mine tugging me back. Someone could be hurt, I said. Maybe someone from all those rappers. I'll be careful. She let go on my hand but stayed behind me. I approached the door listening carefully, but no longer hearing anything. I entered slowly, no longer confident about who or what gave out that groan. The room, almost totally dark, had the smell of sweat.

I panned the phone light. The room was practically bare, no furniture, no windows, and the walls seemed closer than they should be. I heard something to my left and cast a light that way. My startled movement caused the phone to fall from my hand. It's like careening her on the room. Candace let out a half-cry muttering, no, no, no, as she stumbled back into the hallway,

reaching down for the phone my body tensed, ready to retreat. Slowly I lifted it, letting the light creep from the floor to the wall. It stopped on something I had glimpsed for the briefest moment. But the short glimpse wasn't enough for me to be certain of what I saw or had seen. Candice had backed out of the room.

Her expression and pointing finger asked me to confirm what she saw. I couldn't be sure. Was that a face that flashed in view, like two frames in a moving film. That's what registered in my brain. What did you see? I asked, but Candace's trembling lips barely spoke. When she did, it was more questioned back at me.

Eyes? She said. But even that dripped with uncertainty. I re-entered the room hesitantly. Checked the wall and everywhere in front of it. Nothing. But now I heard noises. in the ceiling, the floor.

Just a general feeling things were moving around us. I returned to Candace. Please get us out of here. She whimpered as she backed toward the stairs. Nodding, I tried to temper my worry with some thought that there was always a way out. Nothing's foolproof. Somewhere there's a flaw that can be exploited. On an impulse, I went to the second door on the hall, flung it open, and dashed inside.

No more hesitancy. Face whatever was in their head on. Except in the far corner the phone light fell on small stationary balls of fur. I moved over to him and shone the light down. Pinpricks of light reflected from the eyes of two squirrels. Both were on their feet as though creeping along the floor. Neither looked hurt and I saw the tiniest twitch in one nose. Looking closer, I saw both abdomen's expanse slightly.

These things were alive. I poked one with my foot. It fell over but made no other motion. They were paralyzed, pure and simple. But what I felt positive was that if these squirrels could get in, there must be a way out, at least some kind of hole. Returning to the hallway, I turned off the light to conserve the battery. and decided not to tell Candace about the squirrels.

She didn't need any more information right now. But she wasn't there. I called out. Simon? I heard her say from the first floor. She said nothing else, and quiet filled the pooling darkness below. I went down a step or two to get a better look,

but couldn't see her. I heard the exhalation of air as of someone attempting or war. that couldn't come out. I hurried down the stairs. At the bottom, I started for the living room, but stopped. In the dim light, I saw her. Unmoving, she stood silhouetted against the light from a window next to the front door.

Her black shape shook like something squirming to get free. I turned the phone light on and thrust the beam at her. When I saw her, my first thought was the squirrels. Her eyes blinked rapidly in her mouth, open and close, speaking words that only remained his thoughts. I started toward her, reached for her. So when I grabbed her, trying to pull her to me, it felt like she was bound by invisible strands. As I pulled, the fear in her eyes grew the more she realized I wasn't freeing her. She seemed so helpless, so scared.

I want to do anything to end this and get both of us out of here. Assuming she could still hear me, I spoke to her, telling her I think of something. My own fear must have shown because her face remained like someone watching and approaching train. I reached for her again but found my own motion restricted. I pulled back, afraid that the power holding her would be transferred to me. I began rushing around the first floor searching for an answer. Anything to counteract whatever power the house had.

I knew the windows were merely fabrications and could withstand any force. The walls, if anything, it would become more stable as the house seemed to have been correcting itself. The drawers held no weapons, nothing that would provide something forceful against... What? In a rage, I lifted a chair in the dining room and flung it, merely chipping a piece of the wood from a door jam. The piece of wood held my attention for some reason. I reached for it, studied it, and was about to fling it away when my fingers ran over its rough surface. no moisture in it.

Whatever the house was, whatever the structure was made of, the wood was dry. Very dry. I reached into my pocket and my fingers closed on my book of matches. Someone in my head, before I came to these woods, I must have envisioned perhaps making a campfire of the way out to where people might do. Maybe I just figured you needed them out here. I pulled them out and glanced around for something to burn, something easily ignited like paper or thin wood to help start something denser like a wall or a door.

The cereal boxes in the kitchen would do. Even as I pulled them out, I could tell they were hardly sufficient. But there were small pieces of wood and the cushion from the chair I had thrown plus the curtain from a window. Taking my hands into my pockets, I managed to find some older seats. I piled the most flammable stuff against kitchen wall and lit it. As the flame grew, I carefully piled small pieces of wood and a cushion on top. The flames caught, and on the strength of that, I put larger pieces of wood until the fire becomes strong. A bigger piece of the chair also began to burn.

The house quivered. I took that to be pain and reveled in it. I went to the dining room and smashed another chair piling the fragments on the fire. Standing behind the kitchen table, I watched the flames. I felt the heft of the table and decided when the fire had grown enough I would use it to smash through the wall. I hope by then the house would lose its grip on Candace. I could pull free and we'd both be able to escape. Having a solution lifted the depression from me.

The flames ate away at the wall, but the smoke had started to become suffocating. I left the room and closed the door trying to calculate when I could rush in and finish the process. Rather than wait, I rushed to the foyer to see if there had been any change with Candace. She still stood as someone paralyzed, eyes gazing pitifully. Can you pull free? I asked, but her lips only trembled and whatever attempt she made didn't show. Try. Try. Try hard. I yelled and caught whips of smoke invading the foyer.

Hold on! I pleaded and returned to the kitchen. With the top of my shirt pulled over my nose, I pushed open the kitchen door. Immediately I stopped and let it a gasp. The smoke swirled flowing against my face, but sporadically, the thick, dark cleared. Instead of beautiful flames, all I saw were dying embers. Ignoring the suffocating smoke I went to the table, grabbed it by the edges, and ran it into the blackened wall. The house shook, but only a few charred chips broke loose.

even the smoke began to clear. Then, faster than I would have thought, tiny patches of scorched wood, began returning to a more pristine condition. No, I said out loud, but immediately knew that word meant more than the house repairing itself. I knew the substance of this mending had come from somewhere. I remember the fleeting face in the room upstairs. a small sound from the room off the foyer.

The noises the house made following them. I didn't want to look, but I knew I had to. Behind me, the walls scraped back into shape as I left the room. Rushing to the foyer, I stopped short, my feet slipping over the floor. That moment I would have rather turned away, but just stood there. Disbelief, hatred, defeat. call it what you will, but I couldn't take my eyes off, Candace. Half her body had already been subsumed by the foyer wall.

Part of her head is though slowly being chewed, disappeared into the dark wood. Her eyes held me somewhat like one of those gazelles'y sea and nature specials held in the grip of a lion. Maybe dead, maybe not, but certainly resigned to its fate. but unlike that gazelle her face contorted in pain as each inch of wood enculved her small ruptures appeared as though her body now compressed had to relieve itself somehow i'd have shot her if i could anything to relieve the pain and the fear and then she was gone the wall became as before i knew back in the kitchen the embers had gone out and the wall had returned to smoothness even the table I probably returned to its proper spot my little attempted escape had done nothing but provide food for the house in a rage I pulled at the front door pounded on it

grabbed the lamp table in the living room and swung wildly against a glass until exhausted I slid to the floor I lay against the cool wood and waited for something to happen but nothing did I couldn't think of anywhere I could go in the house at my off for escape. As I sat there, I glanced at the locked room. That was the only place I hadn't been in. Maybe, I thought. Maybe it's locked for a reason. Why wouldn't the house want anyone in there? I felt a tiny spark of hope. As I rose, my body seemed heavier. No, not that. More like I was

trying to move through air grown thicker. terrified like I'd never been before I stumbled over to the table I'd used against the window, picked it up, and brought it to the door where I swung it down against the handle. It took three swings, tiring swings before the handle broke off. Inserting my finger in the hole, I pulled the innards until the lock let loose. I swung the door open and stepped into a room barely lit from the foyer. I could see maybe five feet in. Not even a window admitted the faint light from a cloudy twilight.

I heard the door behind me starting to reform. It sickened me to know Candace was still feeding the repair. I stepped deeper inside, but what I feared happened. My movement began to slow. I started to back out, but I found I couldn't make any headway. I thought of Candace gripped by the same force. Panicking, I grabbed the door jam and tried to pull myself out. I moved a little, but could tell I never had have enough strength to beat the force holding me.

I didn't want to give up and decided to move deeper into the room, hoping for something good to happen. Even then I found myself struggling, but remaining stationary. The dim light from the foyer began to fade. I turned my head as far as I could before it became impossible and glimpsed the door closing. With a small motion I had left in my hand, I pulled out the cell phone. I could barely get a waist high. Before I froze, one finger managed to turn on its light. I would have gasped if I could have made a sound.

The light fell on two faces. Faces with the ruddy complexion of the living. Both Candace's horrified eyes. One person's staring at me, the other staring off to nothing. I knew my eyes must have held the same fear and resignation. I wondered about how long they'd been here, and knew I'd never know. Had the woman dropped the rapper's days or months ago,

and had the man tried to smash the dining room window, it doesn't really matter. Time is passing. How much? I don't know. The darkness doesn't change. The phone light has died. When will it be time? A noise.

Something's happened to the house. I can tell by the way it shakes. Damage? I hear a sigh like the one I heard before in this room. I don't need to know what's happening. I just picture Candace. Very soon the man staring off at nothing or the woman who dropped the rappers will begin to provide the sustenance for a pair.

But it will be over very soon. Now it's just waiting. We can only wait, running all kinds of thoughts through our heads. I don't know what his or hers are. Everyone waits in their own way, trying to find something. Any thoughtful refuge against the inevitable. Of course, it's hard to find a thing. thought that can override fear.

I hear a door opening. Footsteps and muffled voices. I wonder if they're lost too. They are. For your bonus episode. Creepy Presents. The strangest YouTuber apology video you'll ever come across. Written by author Jojo and narrated by Jimmy Ferrer.

If there's one thing, I can't stand. It's these drama videos that pop up time and time again on YouTube. I swear, I have zero interest in these things, but the algorithm refuses to release me from its grips. It's hard to avoid these days, as any channel is likely to talk about some drama going on. God, I've seen channels that devote their content to reviews of old Nickelodeon shows, speaking out on drama in the Super Smash Brothers community.

I just want to hear your thoughts and opinions and so on on the angry beavers. I'm not here for this. From streamers to beauty blogs, there's no more sure-friar way to boost your views, then to stir the pot and get your opinion out there. Worst example of all this, these stupid apology videos will show up, usually a capstone to the aforementioned drama, Have hard to attempt to sighed all the previous allegations. It's always the same crap, though.

Sitting on the floor, because if you look too comfortable, no one will believe that you're sad. Oh, and you should smudge your makeup some, too. That way people know you've been crying. Don't forget to start the video with a heavy sigh, so it's clear how much this has been weighing on your chest. Now, spew the most formulaic and buzzword-filled nonsense that you can. And wait a month until your fans forget all about it. Congratulations! You're a good person again!

Every time I see one of these videos, a person in the thumbnails wearing an oversized gray sweater, their finger wiping away tears. Feel myself gagging. I'm not perfect. I'll admit to clicking on some of these drama videos. I still hate it. But when it involves a creator that you religiously watch, then hey, I'm human too. Maybe that's how I got shoved into all of this.

There was this illustrator that I was a really big fan of. Their art was creepy and so stylized, and they started to make videos showing their creative process, and I ate them up. Great background noise whenever I was working on something. So I watched all these videos. and one day I saw all this news come out about them Suffice it to say None of it was good

Turns out it doesn't matter how creative and talented you are You can still be a massive mountain of human garbage Eventually they came out with an apology video I was enticed and I clicked on it Part of me just wanted to see their face As they'd never shown it before It was tragically predictable I swear I could see him reading off a script that was just off camera.

I don't watch that channel anymore. The evidence was pretty damning. Parasocial relationships. Am I right? This is what likely brought the video into my suggested feed. I was lying in bed board one night and was just shuffling through video apps trying to find something to watch, as one does. The things I was seeing on YouTube just weren't pulling me in. I wasn't feeling in the mood to consume anything.

I first saw it there. The video titled I'm Really Sorry. The thumbnail showed a man with a blanket wrapped around him, his hands lifted, scratching the side of his head. I rolled my eyes at the typo in the low-quality image. Just another sad sap thrown in the mix. But for one reason or another, what caught my attention was the view count. Video, sitting in my suggestions, only had 14 views.

Something primal, activated in my brain. A schoolyard desired to get all the hottest gossip. With a view count so small, it seemed like I stumbled upon something very... Personal. I had to know. With nothing but good intentions in my heart, I clicked the video. An ad began playing, giving me enough time to see the channel only had two subscribers and only a handful of other videos. The channel was called Diabolic Muffin Top.

I don't know. The soap ad ended in my eyes, levitated back to the video. It was grainy. clearly recorded with one of those dollar store webcams. There was an intense buzzing that seemed to be caused by the microphone that was likely bought in the same store. The man from the thumbnail stared into the camera, his face being broken up by fidgety pixels. He had one of those faces, where it's hard to tell if they're 20 or 50. His skin was tan, or the lighting made it look that way.

His head was shaved. As he sat on the floor trying to get comfortable, I watched the white-stained straps of his wife-beater. The room around him was particularly nondescript, outside of it looking like a small dorm room with next to no visible furniture. He finally pulled a blanket off screen and wrapped himself in it. Slowly the fuzz died off as he reached down

and pulled the microphone off the beige carpet. carpet floor. I cannot tell you how enthralled I was at this point. It was so mundane and vague. I felt like I was in on a secret. This room. This man. Could be anywhere in the world. Microphone hanging mere inches from his lips he began to speak. His voice was full of gravel, like he hadn't slept in days. When his voice got to me, I could see. his eyes looked heavy as well. The way he was hunched, like it was a struggle to sit upright. It sounded generic at first, what he was saying.

He repeated lines I've heard before, things like, I made a stupid mistake. I want to be better. And I hope I can grow from this. These words felt a little strange to listen to, given that I didn't know what the man was apologizing for. Though as he talked, maybe just because of how exhausty looked, it started to feel genuine. My excitement turned into a sense of guilt, like I shouldn't be watching.

I didn't leave, though. Timeline kept on moving on. I watched tears swarm in his eyes as his words got shaky. I wish I could take it all back. I miss all of you. There was a moment of silence and suddenly he stood up. A few minutes passed with him just standing in front of the camera. Within that time, I found myself leaning in, inspecting the footage and the room.

Initially, I just assumed it to be an artifact caused by a poor image quality. But the more the pixels shifted, the more it became clear that it was something else. On the wall behind the guy were shadows. They were soft and hard to make out with the amber lighting of the room. But there were shadows. The screen went black and the video ended. That wasn't satisfying. Not nearly enough for me to have backed out then and there.

No, he had other videos. Not many, but maybe there were some answers in them. or at least something I can hang my hat on. Clicking on his profile, I navigated to his videos and found that I'm Relly Sorry was the first one he uploaded. The next one was titled, Piki. Though my eye was drawn to his most recent video titled, I'm Sorry, Part 2. Felt like it would be a disservice to jump right through to it, though. Like I was ruining the suspense for myself or something.

I don't know. It's as I said. I was very bored. So I clicked on Piki. It wasn't I. Just a close shot of a blue eye. Took me a while to even make out what I was looking at. I only recognized it as such when the eyelid obstructed the camera for a moment before being pried apart.

It wasn't I all right. but, well, there was this camera light illuminating it. The light kind of came and went, shining on the eye and then retreating. It was off-putting because as far as I could tell, the people never dilated. I remember thinking that maybe the quality wasn't good enough to show it, but I don't think it ever dilates. And when I say the eyelid was pride open, I mean something. Someone's fingers had spread them, forcing the eye to stay open.

The video was only 47 seconds long. And that's all it really was. The eye didn't even move. It looked glossed over and unnatural like a prop. Going back to the previous video, I leaned in, tried to get a look at the guy's eyes. It was hard to make out, but if his eyes were that blue, I surely would have noticed. Another video showed him lying in his bed. This one was titled, Good Night.

The room was dim. There was this sense of light, not like moonlight was reaching the room, but there was this natural illumination about it, a haze of sorts. His head tilted towards the ceiling. I don't know how I could tell, but he was awake, a feeling, I guess. was long and the audio was rough, but I could hear something in the background. Not in the room. It was muffled. A dragging. It sounded like someone moving furniture around. A large wooden dresser being pushed across a carpet comes to mine. Then the door to this bedroom began to creak open,

and my suspicion about him being awake was confirmed. As soon as it was a little bit of the little, As soon as the light from the hallway crept in, he scattered like a bug to his headboard. I could see the clump of pixels around him beginning to vibrate. He wrapped his arms around himself and started to shake. The sound cut in and out, but he was whimpering like a punished dog. Whoever opened the door just stood there. Arm holding the door remained still, just a dark spot. pausing the video I couldn't help but think to myself that the arm was at such a strange angle

like the person was as tall as the ceiling within a few minutes the figure starts to enter I think and the YouTuber starts to howl like really yell noise complaint-worthy stuff I was right again whatever was peeking in was so tall its head entered first as a it had bend over to get in, a head that was not, not the shape that people's heads are. It looked like chunks had been taken out of it at a jagged angle. I don't know how to describe it. Either it had a crazy helmet on, or that thing wasn't normal. It leaned in further and reeled its head back in jittering motions, almost,

like it was smelling the air. The guy backed up on the bed more. It looked like he was trying to push his way through the wall as he could just crack through it. The static caused by the picture quality almost seemed to warp around the figure leaning in the door, like it was trying to avoid touching the thing. Just as I began to feel my stomach churning, the figure started to rotate its head and look towards the camera. Small, pinprick blue lights beamed out from the front of its face. And then that, video ended. I sat there for a moment.

Collecting my thoughts, after watching that video again, I couldn't help to feel nervous. To clear the air, I'm no stranger to the weird things people create online. Things like ARGs and narrative-driven stories. Possibility of all this just being something the cameraman created crossed my mind. This thought, however, felt more defensive than anything, was saliva pooling in my mouth and sweat forming under my fingertips. It was like I was finding something safe to explain it. More I thought about the video and its contents, the more unnerving it became.

The more I needed to see the other videos. The next one was called Outsuiting. side. And it started with a cameraman sitting on the floor like an apology video. Like the apology videos as well, the man offered his sorrows, stating that he didn't mean for any of it to happen, that he just wants to leave. The lighting was exactly the same as the first video. With not a speck of natural sunlight to be found, he leaned forward and grabbed the camera. I paused the video when he leaned in to get a better look. While his face was still rather blurry, I could see darker lines of flesh on him, something

you'd expect to see when deep gashes finally heal over. There wasn't enough quality to definitely make out what I was looking at, though. I'm pausing, he lifted the camera and carried it to the door. His hand trembled as he placed his fingers on the knob. The view shifted for a moment. I watched this part a few times to try to make out what he was doing. I think putting his ear up to the door. But I don't know.

All I know is his breathing was horribly erratic. It almost frustrated me listening to the man breathing directly into the camera's toaster quality microphone. It made my heart start racing in ways I wasn't comfortable with. It must have been satisfying with his pruning as he pulled the camera. back and turned the handle. A hallway was revealed on the other side. Same canvas brown wall and dim lighting as his room had. He stepped out into the hall and panned the camera around, showing me absolutely nothing. There was maybe a 10 or 15 feet stretch of hall on either side. It's harder to find distance on a video. At the end of the hall,

hallways was just a blank wall. No pictures or other doors to be seen. Hell, there wasn't even any molding, just a brown wall's and browner carpet. The camera focused on his hand as it ran along the hallway's walls, just a flat surface with not so much as a seam. Every bit of the hall was the same, not a hint of escape to be seen. He was closed in. He was closed in. He was closed in. In, his hand shook the whole time, making the flex of static drift around like lightning bugs. After walking around the hall, he wound back up at its door, pointed at the camera at the end of the hall. Static from the footage started swirling like a snowstorm, and from the flat wall, I could see an outline forming. It looked like a pipe had burst behind the one.

wall and started soaking the wood, causing a dark spot. This spot became more and more black until it looked like an inky mess. A camera. It was like the poor quality didn't dare enter that darkness. I could see it so clear compared to the rest of the hall. It looked as if the darkness stretched on further than the confines of the hallway. And from that stretch, fingers laced on the edge. The camera shook as the man contemplated how long he could risk being in the hall.

The creature from before started climbing out. It wasn't the quality of the video that made the thing look so undefined and inhuman. That's just how it was. Those bright blue beads on its head peered out from the dark spot. My breathing was matching his at this point. It felt like the thing was looking at me, like it could see me. I was about to scream at the man to get back in his room, as the monster crawled from the pits beyond the hallway, video cut out and ended.

The way it all looked, the way it made me feel. Shifting in my seat, I could sense the cool air pressing off the beads of sweat running down my forehead. There were only two videos left, though. I couldn't just not watch them, right? The penultimate video. I can't describe exactly how it made me feel. There was an air of triumph, I think. It was just a guy sitting on the edge of the bed,

with his head lowered and crumbling at his feet was the monster. It was motionless and could see that the man's hands were covered in red. He was staring at his own hands, repeating something I couldn't quite make out. I watched, expecting the monster to move again, for something to happen. But even those pinprick lights failed to shine. The longer the video went on, the more static started to cover the creature, as if it was no longer afraid of it. and the more static that covered the creature's frame, the more it looked like its limbs became shorter, and its head started to shrink and smooth out.

The whole time this monster collapsed in on itself to look more and more human. All the man did was stare at the mess on his hands. Raising his hands, he pulled his fingers down across his face, digging his fingernails through his flesh, reopening those scars I had noticed earlier. When he did this, it was faint, but the static started to drift away from him, showing his face a little clearer.

He looked into the camera, got up to walk over, and turned it off. He was angry and frustrated. The eyes narrowed, peering through thin rivers of I've read. Last video. I'm sorry, part two.

He must have set up and turned the camera on minutes after the last video ended. He sat in front of the camera just like he did for the first video. His face was still slick with fresh blood, and he was looking more monster than man. He sat in front of the camera just like he did for the first video. His face was still slick, with fresh blood, and he was looking more monster than man. Speaking of which, the creature that was slumped against the bed, had been moved, somewhere out of the frame. He began speaking.

Tell me, or the camera, I suppose, that it wasn't supposed to happen like this. for it to be simple, that he intended for no harm to come. He also said with a laugh that it was too late for all that, though, that he had crossed the line and he had to deal with his decisions. It was so strange. Hearing all the jargon I had seen YouTubers used before to passively hand-wave their actions off. To hear him saying all this stuff in the context of what I had seen.

I heard him talk about how he wants to be better, and that all he needs is a chance to prove that he can do it. What could he possibly have done that would have wound up there? Did he deserve it? Was it a punishment? For all the apologizing he did clearly, he did something that put him there, right? I can't wrap my head around it,

or anything I had seen involving his channel. I can only watch as he continued barfing out the same script I had heard from all the others. He stopped talking, mid-sentence, and looked into the camera lens. The cameras focus on him going in and out. God, it felt like he suddenly became aware of my existence. He could feel I was watching him. That look wrapped around my heart and squeezed. Pain in my chest and a churning in my abdomen.

Fear blanketed me like cellophane. This is the last time. I promise. He said, sullen, and ethereal words that cut grooves into my ears. Reaching forward, the man grabbed the camera and picked it up. Standing up off the floor, I could see the blanket drop from his shoulders. He was shirtless, and his chest was littered with those scabbed over scars that created pathways in the static. He was mangled.

You'd have thought a pride of lions just finished throwing him away. I'm sorry to all of you. He whispered, something in his eyes. I could feel he had finalized on a choice, something he had been mulling over for quite some time. Slowly, very, very slowly, started turning the camera around. It was here that I realized I'd only seen one portion of his room. Never what was beyond the camera. As it turned, I wasn't surprised to see the walls were devoid of decoration.

Just the same spoiled milk color until the lens was met with the black mask. It was like a dense forest of thin trees. I struggled to make out what I was looking at. He started backing up, offering more and more the view in front of him. Bodies. I hate to cut to the chase, but I don't know what else to say. They were bodies. All of them were so tightly packed together it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended.

Their frames were dark like the creature that came into his room. All of them hung from the ceiling like ornaments on a Christmas tree. They gently swayed bumping into each other. They grew up strong around their necks to keep them suspended. They looked closer to people's shape than the monster I had seen a few videos ago. But it didn't stay that way. He kept the camera on this scene for a while. More than enough time for me to see that now and then, their bodies would shift.

They would begin to transform and crack back into their jagged and lengthy shape of a monster. The bodies would rattle and moan as their skull snapped and twisted into horrid silhouettes. There, they would bounce around, trying to be free of the noose. Every time, though. Their body would go limp and give up before slowly. reverting into the humanoid shape. It was a cycle. They were transform, struggle, and revert. Brief moments of consciousness and desperate fight for air to only die once again. Twelve minutes of this, seeing those blue eyes open and shut. I couldn't tell how big the room was, or how many bodies total

there were. It seemed like well over a dozen. All fighting. for a little more space. After 12 minutes from behind the camera, I heard, I'll find a way to fix this. And then the video just ends. I sat in my seat for a while. I felt like I couldn't move, or rather like I didn't want to. Like if I moved, it was confirmation somehow of everything I had seen. And I just didn't want time to move forward. Didn't want to come to go. grips with it. The sun had started peeking through my windows at some point. I must have been sitting there for a few hours. I'd occasionally view the videos again, trying to find some kind of credits or even coded messages, anything to show me that what I witnessed was a fabrication.

After enough clicking back and forth, searing the images of those videos into my mind, I'm only left with questions. A thousand whys were implanted into my head. Ones I'm sure I will never vacate. Now for the part you'll hate. Upon trying to revisit the user's page, I'm only met with a deactivated account. I discovered this when it dawned on me

that I should have documented what I had seen. Funny how that works. Now this is all I have of it. this written recounting of it. All the time it's there, scratching in the back of my head, trying to connect the dots where there are none, just one meaningless question pulling to another. This is easily one of the most abrasive parasocial relationships

that I have been pulled into. I kept an eye open. Maybe I'll see his face on my screen again, and finally I'll be able to get it out of it. my head. I'm always afraid I'm going to leave my room to find that it's all gone. That I only have a hallway. That fear feels like it's closing in. Maybe I'm paranoid. Though my eyes are blue. Sorry, I don't have more answers or information. I'll try to do better. For more information on this podcast, including how.

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