Creepy - The Scariest Tale We've Ever Told You

Episode Date: April 1, 2019

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that we've officially started our new campaign at our T-Spring store, the links in the show notes. From now on, 100% of profits from the store will go to charity. For April, as it's autism awareness month and a cause near to my heart, 100% of profits from our merchandise will go to the American Autism Association. You can find out more about them at myautism.org. Again, this show will contribute

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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. for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. Creepy Presents. The scariest tale we've ever told you. Your taxes are due in three weeks.

Now, 15 minutes of random music that we put in to make it look like this was a full episode. Pro fools. Just kidding. Even I'm not that mean. Here's another tale from the gas station. And later I'm going to post the entire original gas station series as a single episode. Happy April 1st. This is creepy.

A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepy pastors and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened, Or, not simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. Creepy presents. Something weird came into the gas station last night. Written by Gas Station Jack.

One of the very few perks of living with a rare terminal illness is the way nothing ever seems important enough to get stressed out. I'm speaking from my own limited experience, and in no way would I recommend you go out and get your own rare terminal illness if you don't already have one. But in my case, I was able to make peace with the reality of my impermanence early on. Before the diagnosis, when I was a teenager, sometimes I'd worry about living up to my own expectations of adulthood,

which is absurd when you consider that the town I grew up in is the capital of lowered expectations, was only claimed to fame as being the home of a famous bloody civil war battle in the place where it rained frogs down one time. Don't ask, it's not as interesting as it sounds. I work at the 24-hour gas station near the woods at the edge of town, and as far as jobs go, it's not the best. But it's not the worst either.

Knowing that I won't be here too much longer, it all's any ambition to climb the corporate ladder. Some days churn by without incident. moving the world one step closer to oblivion or whatever. Those are my favorites, when I can pass an entire shift reading a book and minding my own business. I don't need to climb mountains or visit the Grand Canyon to know what Zen feels like. Tranquility is a quiet, empty gas station at 4 in the morning.

Of course, some days aren't as uneventful. I've experienced rude customers, drunkards, vicious raccoons that fall in the chaotic evil spectrum of the D&D alignment, a handful of our embroideries, and some other things I I can only describe as weird. I had one of the last type of days yesterday. We've been busier than normal in the weeks leading up to this. Some of the wildlife and fishery agents from neighboring towns spent patrolling in the woods pretty heavily, and our gas station is one place for miles to get fuel or fresh coffee. I don't know what the hubbub was about, but I guess everyone's been on edge ever since those cows are mutilated.

Oh, okay. I think that maybe mutilated is too strong of a word to use. Somebody's been sneaking onto cattle farms and shaving the cows bald. Who knows why? Small towns get bored. I wasn't paying attention to the time, because I never do. But it was late in my shift and the middle of the night when a deer poked its head inside the gas station. I just finished my book and was checking my phone for weather updates.

when it happened. The glass doors pushed slightly ajar, and a large deer with an eight-point rack of antlers was solely inspecting the store, scanning its gaze from one corner to the other, nostrils flaring with each sniff. It stopped moving and pointed its giant black eyes right at me. I remained perfectly still, except to put my phone down because this was way more interesting than the possible snowstorm headed our way in the next few days. We stared at one another for just a moment longer, until the deer pushed the

the door the rest of the way open and stepped one foot inside. Whatever you're imagining right now, it's wrong. And I know that's my fault because I'm telling you the story, so I apologize. There were a few key details of this deer that I haven't mentioned yet. First, the deer's head was about seven feet off the ground. And second, I could see through the glass of the front doors that this deer was standing upright. From antler tip to pelvis, the deer was just like any other ordinary white tail that ever seen. seen in the woods or the side of the interstate.

Tand fur, long neck, confused expression. But at the legs, he turned into something else. If kangarooish were a word, I would call his legs kangarooish. He stepped a kangarooish foot into the store and waited like he was making sure that the ground wasn't going to follow it from below him. When it didn't, he put the next foot forward. The door shut behind him and the deer started walking down the gas station aisles. His antler is barely missing the fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling by millimeters.

I didn't think much of it at the time. But when I got to work earlier that night, the other worker said something interesting. I was taking over the safe from the only other full-time clerk, Jerry, who, according to what I heard from a reliable source, has been pretty salty ever since his cult went and had a mass suicide without inviting him. Before he left, he told me that the leg was getting worse, and maybe it was time we do something about it. You see, there's something wrong with the mirror in the gas station bathroom.

There's a delay in a reflection by about half a second. Sometimes if the weather's acting up, it gets more noticeable. We have plans to replace the mirror but couldn't do it because we're lazy, and mirrors are expensive. And besides, how important is it to see your exact reflection anyway? It's a gas station bathroom, not a salon. That wasn't the weird thing he told me. The weird thing was that a man had come by earlier wearing Hunter's camo and left his number,

telling Jerry that it was imperative that he'd contact him in case we see anything unusual. I had dismissed that as being too vague to have any meaning at all. What is unusual at that gas station? A solar eclipse? A bipedled deer? A completely normal day? Besides, I don't work for him. and if he's looking for a deer creature, you can find out on his own.

I watched the deer walk slowly towards a vague chips display and put his nose to it, sniffing voraciously before stepping back and scanning the entire store again. His arms are front legs? I'm not really sure. Dangled at his sides, with cloven hoves as he walked over to the refrigerated drink case. He tapped a glass a couple times with his antlers before figuring out or reach out and pull the door open. It was like watching a toddler figuring out a puzzle. Funny at first, but then just frustrating.

I almost got up to help him before finally, mercifully. He got his hand-toe, clove, toe, foot finger, or on the handle and the door creaked open. I had to hold back my laughter as the deer fumbled with a bottle of water and somehow managed barely to pull it out of the case before sticking the top of it in its jaws and chewing at the cap until it ripped open. The deer leaned his head back with a bottle sticking out of his mouth and stared right at me

as he guzzled the whole thing down at one continuous stream. Next, the buck sauntered over to the coffee machine and gave it a whiff. The smell apparently didn't gee-ha with his disposition as he reared back and shook his head fiercely. Probably for the best. Finally, the buck finished his rounds and walked up to me and stopped on the other end of the counter. From this close I could smell the creature. and, surprisingly, he smelled like grape soda. He tapped his hooves, fingers, hands,

on the counter a couple times, then looked back to where he dropped a bottle of water, then back to me. Okay. I said. He tapped the counter again, so I went ahead and punched the code for a bottle of water at the register. That's going to be 89 cents.

The deer took a step back and looked down at himself. then started patting his body where his pockets would be, if you're wearing any pants. Then he looked up at me and blinked a few times. You're putting me in an awkward spot here, I said. Right then, the creature started bleeding out a strange animalistic noise that I can only describe as a combination between donkey and dolphin. I don't know what that means!

I said over his noises. But then he just got louder and louder, threw his head back, committing this weird call into the ceiling. I don't know what you're saying. I don't speak deer. The deer threw his head back down and barfed up a green wet clump onto the corner in front of me. And then it was silent. I looked at the clump.

The deer looked at the clump. The deer looked at me. I'm back at the clump. Oh. I reached out and grabbed it by the corner. Sure enough, the deer just coughed up a mucus-covered $1 bill. Okay. I wiped the slimyness off on a dish rig I keep near the register for spills

and then put the bill into the till with the rest of the money before fishing out two nickels and a penny, which I offered to the deer and which the deer promptly ate out of my hand. He turned towards the door and flicked his tail a few times at me before I noticed a strange tableau outside the store. At least half a dozen other deer were out there. each standing tall on two kangarooish feet and staring right at me. There was another stag, a pack of doze, and at least one fawn, only four feet tall.

The buck struggled for a few seconds to pull the door open. Do you want me to... Before I could finish, he had a wide enough to slip outside. And then they all left, walking proudly towards the forest line. It wasn't until about five minutes later that it occurred to me that I should have have taken a picture or something. Without any proof, I guess it was just going to turn into one more weird story that nobody will ever believe.

I dug through my backpack until I found a book I hadn't read yet and opened it to the first page. It was at least an hour before I had another customer coming to the store. For more information, including pictures and videos of the stories told on this podcast, or to suggest stories for future episodes, please. visit us at creepy pod on Twitter, Instagram. All stories told on this podcast can be found at creepypasta wikiya.com and are protected by a Creative Commons license. Some rights reserved unless otherwise stated.