Creepy - The Naughty List

Episode Date: December 27, 2021

Check yourself twice...***Written by: Calum Brooks***Bonus episode: "Somebody built a snowman behind my house and it refuses to melt" written by: u/HelloHelloHelpHello and narrated by: Cole Burkhardt��***Find our reward tiers and how to get your bonus magnet at patreon.com/creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/creepypod***Sound Design by Pacific Obadiah***Title music by Alex Aldea***Intro/Outro Narration by Joe Stofko Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

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And that's not all we have for listener gifts this time of year. I know not everyone's in the position to support the show, and I'm just grateful that you're listening. So as a special end-of-the-year bonus to listeners, we're going to be running the audio book narration of T.W. Grimm's novel, The Promises We Make in December. narrated by our own Joe Stofco. Listeners will know T.W. from his Uncle Henry's farm series, and Joe from the title role of Uncle Henry. Chapters will run all week from Monday to Friday as we end 2021 the best we possibly can for all listeners.

From everyone here at Creepy, hoping you all just the darkest, scariest, and most unsettling New Year's. You know, in a good way. Now, this is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing The most famous chilling and disturbing creepy pastas and urban legends in the world

Whether these stories truly happened or are simply fabrications is for you to decide These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language Listener discretion is advised Creepy Presents

The Noddy List Written by Kalam Brooks A few years ago I did something Something terrible Something I really wish I didn't Something I can never take back It all served when my girlfriend Well, ex-girlfriend

Broke up with me I know this might seem trivial and just a part of life and growing up as a person. However, unfortunately for me, it had the complete reverse effect. I know you all think I'm childish, and I just need to take it on the chin and deal with it, and you'd be right. But I didn't. I just didn't.

I was hurt. More than hurt. I was offended. Insulted. I mean, how could she? After everything I've done for her, it was me who gave her a place to live. It was me who helped her pay off her debts. It was me who helped her get a job.

And she wants to throw it all back on my face? I wasn't going to allow that to occur unpunished. I now know it was petty. And I was wrong. I was so, so very young. But you have to understand I was desperate. I was hurting so deeply. It honestly felt as though my heart was aching.

It was throbbing so hard I honestly thought at any point it would explode and kill me instantly. I know that sounds dramatic and I'm honestly not looking for sympathy. I'm not. I don't deserve it. I'm not the victim here. Well, not anymore. I made sure of that. And I'm sorry.

I'm so, so. sorry. I wish I just took my own life instead. Then maybe, maybe none of this would have ever happened. I was so down and furious. I couldn't even sleep. I was just so frustrated. I was angry. I honestly could feel my body shaking with rage. I got up with hatred and darkness in my heart, and I booted up my laptop. I wasn't and am not a stranger to the dark web. I've spent countless hours trying and failing to navigate it to quell my boredom. I only ever found the usual rabbit holes falling into the typical drug and honey trap

sites and forums, lots and lots of forums. And although I didn't really know what I was looking for, or even word of, find it if I did. In truth, subconsciously, I guess in some way I knew. I just wanted for her to hurt. I wanted her to hurt like she hurt me. I wanted her to feel the embarrassment I'd felt and suffered at her hands. My original plan, although very distasteful and wrong of me, wasn't malicious and intent,

at least not violent. Anyway, I just wanted to humiliate her like she had humiliated me. I still had photos and videos of her from our time together. You know, personal, shall we say, videos and photos of her. And in my pent-up anger and depressed state, I thought it was a good idea, an just idea, to use these against her. I see now I was wrong from the story. start, but I wish...

Oh, I wish I had just done that. As awful as it seems, there was nothing to what I actually did. I couldn't find it. I just couldn't. I wish I'd given up. Of course I didn't. I kept digging and digging,

clicking link after link, until eventually I clicked on a link and found something that caught my attention. It was a forum. A form called The Nottie List. On it, writ a question. Do you know someone who has been bad? If so, maybe you should put them on the Nottie list.

Perfect, I thought. This has got to be it. I'll upload all my personal photos and videos on there and maybe even link her social media and we'll see who's laughing then. I thought about adding her address. but as she was back living with her family, even I drew the line there. And I know how noble I was. I'm so pathetic. The form wasn't what I expected, though.

You couldn't just upload to their homepage. There were different sections to it, or punishments, as they called it. I remember thinking how dramatic, how dumb and naive I was. There were several different sections. Elf on a shelf, crampus cramps, and frozen fields, among others. Yeah, I know very Christmassy, right? I thought so. Kind of made me chuckle.

I guess that's why I just didn't think this was that serious. A schoolboy mistake. And as you all know, mistakes always have consequences. Anyway, with the sections, Elf on a shelf kind of made me crack half a smile. But that's not what I went with. I chose something called Slay Snatcher. I don't know why I did.

It was just kind of funny to me. After clicking on it, I had to wait a good minute and a half before the bright white page loads up, filling a few black text boxes and texts that read. Santa is waiting to write up his naughty list. please fill in the details and he'll do the rest. Cute, I thought. I just thought it was kind of stupid.

But that's what I did. I filled it in regardless. Name, age, birthday, links to the person's social media. It was all there. Everything I was so desperately looking for. And of course, photo uploads. Jackpot. I remember slimely smiling to myself, half cackling in the process.

It wouldn't allow me to upload any videos, but the photos were more than enough for me. It also asked for the person's address, but as I've previously said, I wasn't really ready to go that far. But I did write in our hometown, our hometown. Something I really wish I didn't do. I just wish I didn't do any of it. After I'd finished putting in her information, without even a moment's hesitation, I click submit. After a few seconds, a little text box appeared asking,

Are you sure? Santa won't forget. He checks that list twice. All names are final. I smugly pressed yes. And that was that. Perfect. I thought, until I was redirected to another page.

It took a few minutes to upload, but when it did, it caught me off guard. It said simply, thank you for submitting to the naughty list. We really appreciate it. Sit back, relax, and Santa will slay snatch those ho-ho-hoes. Santa will empty his sack and then put them in one. He knows when you've been naughty This took me back a bit It took me a few seconds to process what it was saying

And I just laughed As awful as that sounds It's true I mean come on It was gross and yeah admittedly sick But it was kind of funny And there's no way it could be real anyway I didn't care

I'd achieve my goal. I thought, job done. It's all uploaded and people see them and message her on social media. Then she'll be humiliated. She'll be the one pushed down in the dirt. So, feeling better about myself, I calmly and confidently shut down and wiped everything correctly, making sure I couldn't be traced or implicated in any way. I was already heavily protected.

I knew that. But as anyone who uses the dark way, will tell you, it's better to be safe than sorry. The next morning I awoke with the biggest, most disturbing smile I have ever produced. I honestly must have looked like the grinning Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland. I was so damn pleased with myself. Looking back on it now, it honestly makes me sick. I couldn't wait to see the fruits of my labor.

I was so excited to see her suffer. I wanted her to hurt, and I wanted her to know, well, more accurately, think it was me, but have no way to prove it. I wanted to break her, and for her to feel as worthless as she'd made me feel. But to my absolute dismay and disappointment, nothing happened. I waited and I waited, but nothing. No angry phone calls or text, no outrage social media post, nothing at all. I thought maybe at first she could have been trying to ignore it, or maybe she'd reported

abuse and had been told not to engage any potential troll or creeper. I mean, surely it worked, right? I mean, there's no way I could check. I couldn't find that link again even if I tried. Anyone would surf the dark web will know that. this to be true. It's just not catalogued. It's a mess. And I only stumbled across it by chance in the first place. I wish I hadn't. So a few more days go by, and by now my excitement's faded, and I feel dejected and genuinely upset that it clearly hasn't worked. Nobody could be so calm

if it had. And I couldn't exactly ask her or go check that would just point the finger straight at me. so after a while I just gave up. In truth, the whole ordeal was now tiresome to me, and as sad as it sounds, it had strangely made me feel better, like I'd all gotten it out of my system somehow. A few days later, I was awoken by a loud knock on my door. The previous drama of my former relationship had completely escaped my mind at this point. And just for some context, I live alone and don't get many visitors all too often.

So I was more annoyed to have been woken up than curious to see who it was at my door, for what reason. So you can imagine my shock when I flung open my door only to be greeted by the stern faces of two police officers. Shit, I thought. This is it. I'm going to prison. Everyone's going to think I'm some kind of freak. which, I guess, in all fairness, I was at the time. They asked to come in, and I, of course, obliged. Not wanting to make a scene and make things potentially worse for myself.

I remember thinking at the time, they've only asked to come in. As if right now I'm not under arrest or anything, so I better see what they want. But what they asked me, completely and utter. I barely knocked the wind out of me. When was the last time you saw Katie? I was speechless.

And for a second, I must have looked like the most guilty and suspicious person in the world. Realizing this, I quickly shook the look of surprise and dread off my face, and answered as calmly as I could muster. Not since we broke up, around two weeks ago. This was true, but it still didn't save me from their line of inquiry and their barrage of intense scrutiny and questioning. Where were you on the night of? I told him the truth at home.

Can I want to verify this? I said, well, no. I live alone, but I did get dropped off at home after work by one of my colleagues, which is routine after every shift, so he can, I guess. And what time was this? I told him the truth. Around 10.30, the cameras at work should have shown me leaving about 10.20. and it's only about a ten-minute drive here.

Did you leave your property at any point after you return? No. I'm meekly, but authoritatively as I could, retorted. And there's a camera by the apartment entrance that'll show him telling the truth. His face in an intense stare of concentration in my eyes seemed to waver and loosen ever so slightly. So I thought I'd push my luck and ask, What's all this about? He stated that although he can't give me the details of the ongoing investigation,

Katie had been reported missing and had not been seen for close to a week. She was last seen by her mother leaving their home to shop and browse the stores but never returned. The police officers left soon after that and actually thanked me for my time. They did check the CCTV and with my boss and colleague who confirmed my story, that I was telling the truth. Days turned into weeks, and still nothing. It seemed as though she'd just vanished into thin air. I couldn't believe it.

It couldn't, could it? It couldn't have been because of me. I thought maybe it's possible some Creek stocked her socials and found her address after I posted them along with the images, but surely it just had to be a coincidence. That stupid form couldn't be real. I mean, Santa's naughty list? Come on.

Get a grip, I thought to myself. The longer it went on, the more horrible I felt. I knew I wasn't physically responsible, but in one way or another, I had caused this, or at least put the wheels into motion. I felt just as guilty as if I'd done something to her. I mean, this is the girl I once loved. The girl I still love.

And I... I had done this. I had caused this. And her poor mother. They've been estranged for years. And it was me who finally got them to reconcile. And for what? So I could just destroy her worst than she could have ever possibly envisioned.

I couldn't live with myself. With what I'd done I tried to get on normally with my life But it was hard I couldn't sleep I couldn't eat And you know something I knew I deserved it

I would cringe every time I caught myself Feeling sorry for myself I'm no victim I'm a monster A wolf in sheep's clothing I deserved it Not her I was selfish

I was disgusting and pathetic. I was weak. I was so, so very weak. I took to drinking to make myself sleep. Anything to numb the pain. Anything to get the image of her face and the sounds of her screams out of my head. I couldn't go to the police. How could I?

If I confessed, my life was as good as over. Selfish as it was, I just did. I didn't believe it would even help find her if I did. Maybe I was just being a coward. But it was hopeless. She was gone. I waited every morning for an update. Every no new information today update killed a little piece of me.

Each and every time. It was torture until one day. They did find her. but as I'm sure you can all already tell, this story doesn't have a happy ending. It was weeks. But she was eventually found in an old abandoned factory in the outskirts of the next town over. I just couldn't believe it. I could feel my throat tight into the point I was struggling to breathe when I heard the news.

Please, no, I thought. In my head I was begging and pleading with whoever, whatever could hear me that it must have been some kind of mistake, a mix-up. That it wasn't. It couldn't be down to me. But unfortunately it was no mix-up. There are no mistakes when you answer, yes, I'm sure I wanted her to suffer. And I guess I got my wish.

She was found stuffed down one of the now-defunct chimneys. Her body was... Her body was stuffed inside a sack. A toy sack. Couldn't believe it. I felt sick. I feel sick thinking about it now. This must be some kind of sick joke.

I kept trying and failing to convince myself. I felt my body tremble. She was thrown completely naked. Her body had been badly deteriorated at this point. But they knew it was her. They knew because stuffed into her eye socket was a small piece of paper. A small piece of paper that read, Nottie List, Katie, you should have been good. I blacked out.

I collapsed where I was standing and I hit my head pretty hard. When I regained consciousness, I hoped, I prayed it was just a bad dream. but of course it wasn't it was real it was all real and it was all because of me and I'm sorry Katie

I'm so so sorry I'm sorry for what they did to you I'm sorry for what I did to you I have to live with the guilt every day not a day goes by that I don't think about confessing or ending my own life.

In some sick way, I sometimes think that would make up for it, or at least make us even somehow. Even though I know that would be impossible, I can't imagine what they did to you, what they put you through. I can't imagine the fear and terror you must have felt. I can't imagine your final thoughts are how confused or alone you must have been. Nothing will ever make up for the torture I subjected the girl I once loved and cherished to. All because of my own ego and misguided sense of pride and self-worth.

I wish I could take it all back. I really do, but I can't. And that will sadly never be able to change. You deserve justice, Katie. You deserve to be able to rest in peace at the very least. Maybe confessing will bring you in your family close. Maybe ending my own life will make us even. But regardless of the answer, I'm far too much of a coward for either.

I'm sorry. For your bonus episode, Creepy Presents. Somebody built a snowman behind my house and it refuses to melt, written by Hello, Hello, help hello, and narrated by Cole Burkart. The snowman appeared two weeks ago. I remember looking out of my back window one morning, a steaming cup of coffee in my hands, and there it was, on the empty field that stretched between my garden and the forest. Three balls of snow stacked atop each other with two thin branches sticking out of the side.

Pretty bog standard, all in all. It was facing away from me and staring at the distant tree line, as if waiting for something to emerge from the dense thicket. I didn't pay any attention to the thing. It was just an ordinary snowman, after all. By now, I'm wondering whether there were some details that should have roused my suspicion. I do not recall, for example,

there being any footprints around the snowman, nor any signs of the snow having been gathered and rolled into its form. It was almost as if the feet, figure had arisen from the pristine white surface like a budding plant. Or is my memory just playing a trick on me? Whatever may be the case, I didn't focus any further attention on the snowman. It became just another random background element that my conscious mind is swept aside. The snowfall grew thicker, then it lessened. Then it started to thaw. Soon, the white winter scenery began to revert to its usual brown and green colors.

The blighted of snow, which had formerly covered the entirety of the field, shranked to a bunch of disconnected islands and then vanished completely. It was at this point in time that I took note of the snowman once more. Unlike the surrounding icy material, its body had managed to hold onto its form somehow. A last patch of white grew around its base in a vague circle. A strange sight, but not one I couldn't explain away. Of course, snow and ice would remain a bit launder when stacked more densely. On the street, there were also still some snow hills holding on after having to have.

having been piled up by the communal plow, a perfectly rational explanation. Nonetheless, I now began to regularly check up on the figure out in the field. Every morning, I'd step to the window and glance out and see it still standing there, staring at the trees. Everywhere else in our small community, the last remnants of those distant snow days shrunk to tiny specks of dirty white, clinging to shadowed alcoves where the rays of sun didn't quite manage to reach. Only the snowman didn't seem affected by the rising temperature. Two days ago, a cold, wet ice rain started to fall and began melting away whatever snow had managed to hold out until now.

Every hour, I returned to the window, checking again and again the status of the snowman. It had looked completely fresh and unblemished in the morning, but soon it too began to be worn down by the downpour. Its body began to slack to the side and took on a more darkish color. One of its arms dislocated and fell to the mud. I relaxed. I hadn't even noticed how tense the strange sight of the snowman had made me, but that was over now. now. It was a normal snowman, after all. It just took a little laundry to melt. Nothing unusual here. I went to bed, holding on to the firm belief that its remains would be dawn come sunrise.

I slept. I woke. I staggered into the kitchen. I poured myself a coffee. I looked out the window. and the snowman was still standing in the middle of the field, unblemished, perfectly white, its two branch arms stretched out to the side. The mud nearly slipped from my fingers. How was this possible? Somebody must have rebuilt it, but how? There was no more snow to use as building material anywhere. For the first time, since its appearance, I decided to take a closer look. I stomped through the muddy field and circled the white figure. The snow looked fresh, no sign of it having melted or dirtied in the slightest. I stopped in front of it. Since it had been turned away from my house, I had never seen its face. Now that I could get a look, a shiver ran down my spine.

At first glance, it had all the features it should have, but the longer I stared at it, the more I noticed all the things off about it. The stones representing the eyes were rough and edged and noticeably different, giving the snowman a slightly menacing look. The frozen carrot nose was broken in the middle and sporting various black blotches. It must have started to rot prior to being used as building material.

For the mouth, it seemed that whoever created the thing had run out of stones, and instead opted to just smear some dark brown dirt into a vaguely mouth-like shape. A slight feeling of disgust spread in my stomach. With a quick step forward, I crossed the remaining distance between me and the snowman and gave its icy body a shove.

It toppled over without resistance and crumbled onto the floor, just like one would suspect from a regular snowman. Satisfied with its destruction, I made my way back home. The next morning, I awoke with an eerie feeling. A cold air spread through my bedroom and had managed to slip beneath my blanket. granting me an uneasy sleep. I was sure I had dreamed of the snowman's face. I struggled out of bed and headed to my bedroom window to check the backyard.

And there it stood, just like every other morning. This time, however, its position had changed. Instead of staring towards the distant trees from the middle of the empty field, it was now facing my house, leaning at the wood. fence that marked the beginning of my garden. At first, a sense of terror crept through my stomach. My muscles clenched. The hairs in the dap of my neck prickled.

I held my breath. Then the moment passed, and I let out a short laugh. It's a prank. It must be some elaborate prank, after all. What else could it be? And those mysterious pranksters had nearly managed to get under my skin. I shook my head and went to shower and have breakfast. The snowman could wait. An hour later, I made my way through the garden. I could already tell from some distance that

whoever built the snowman a second time had gone through the painstating efforts to recreate its horrible face. The snow itself looked freshly fallen as well, despite the fact that it hadn't snowed in a week. This was quite the effort for some simple prank. The white figure had its claw-like branch arms resting on the fence. Its head was slightly angled upwards and to the side, as if he was focused on something. I turned and followed the gaze of its mismatching eyes. The feeling of amusement drained from my mind. The shock returned.

It was looking right at my bedroom window. This didn't feel like a prank anymore. More like some sort of threat. Within minutes, I had grabbed the large shovel, which I had used to clean up the snow some weeks ago, and swung it at the snowman. It crumbled after the first few hits, but I kept smashing and smashing,

making sure to grind its rotting carrot nose to a pulp during the process. I didn't expect this to be the end, Whoever kept recreating the snowman would for sure return. There was a long night lying ahead of me. This time, I'd stay up and catch whoever was responsible for this macabre joke. Home office, thankfully, allowed some flexibility when it came to my working hours, and so I stayed in the kitchen after the sun had set, staring at the monitor of my laptop and heading to the window every ten minutes to glare out

into the garden. The sky was clear, and the moon covered the landscape in its cool light. If someone was coming, I'd spot them for sure. I'd checked again and again and again, bouncing back and forth between the computer and the window. When the sun rose, I couldn't help but to feel a little bit silly. Nobody had snuck around my house. Nobody had rebuilt the snowman. the mysterious prankster ran out of snow or patience. At least I had to sleep without worry. My footsteps faltered when I approached the stairs leading up to my bedroom. Something was wrong. A cold spread through the floorboards beneath my feet. The tiny rectangle of glass on my front door was covered in a sheet of morning frost. My breath exited my mouth in a slight fog.

I took a step towards the door. The temperature seemed to drop even further. I put my hand on the handle. The metal was freezing under my touch. I pulled it open, and there it was, staring right into my eyes. Its disgusting features have been restored without fault. Even the smashed rotting carrot nose had been replaced by an identical one. It looked just as it had the first day, save for one little detail.

One of the stowman's arms had been repositioned. It was stretched forward, reaching for my doorknob. For even more from Crean. 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 used under license and may not be rebroadcast or distributed

without the express prior written consent of the stories author. Please contact us at creepypod at gmail.com for further information on obtaining the rights necessary to rebroadcast or distribute a particular story.