Creepy - The Snake

Episode Date: August 19, 2019

Don't make it angry...***Written by Sean Arthur Cox***See how you can get rewarded by supporting the show at Patreon.com/Creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/creepypod***Produced by Steve Blizin, Puzzle Audio***Title music by Alex Aldea***Artwork by Dakota Miller *** 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.

This is the bloody disgusting podcast network. Join me in welcoming and thanking new patrons. Andrea Emborado. Evan Biller. Ariel Hernandez. Shea Kuntz. Chan Young. Brennan Power.

Jackie Pop. Josh Brousanne. Ashley Kate. Socrata Semiotis. Ashley Smith. Pamela Bowman. Tea Kelly. Jinks the Grimm.

I'm single. Call me. Winky Face. Joshua, Maggie Teller, Thomas Ray Eccles, and Alicia Louise Walker. If you'd like to see how you can support this podcast, anger rewards like shoutouts, early commercial free access to episodes, immediate access to over 300 Patreon exclusive episodes, logo mugs, t-shirts, and more. Please visit patreon.com slash creepypod.

And I know a lot of people who listen to this podcast also listen to the No Sleep podcast, and I've never hidden my love for that show. If you aren't already listening, please take time soon to check them out. You won't regret it. And for those of you who are already listening to the show, who haven't heard, No Sleep has announced both their new 2019 live tour around the United States and, for the first time ever, a European tour. I already have my tickets bought for the show in Minneapolis on October 5th.

To buy your own tickets and see if they'll be in a city near you, check out the no sleeppodcast.com slash tour. Now, this. is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepypastas and urban legends in the world.

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

The Snake Written by Sean Arthur Cox I was five years old when I first vomited up a snake A second grader cornered me on the playground and shoved me off the swing because he wanted a turn

My palms skin, knees dirty I climbed to my feet tears in my eyes and fists clenched in sorrow and rage And there he sat on my swing laughing. That's when I felt it.

A tightness in my throat. A lump that threatened to choke me. A writhing in my belly. I heaved. And instead of lunch coming up, a small little snake came out. I was dumbstruck, terrified. Fear quickly replaced my anger.

How would a snake gotten in my stomach? Were there others? The bully stared, equally shocked, and while I still carried a little resentment for him, I have more important concerns. The snake eyed the kid on the swing, gave a hiss, and then slithered back to me.

It had wrapped itself from my ankle before I regained enough composure to move. I tried shaking it off and running away, but the snake held me too tightly, slowly working its way up my leg. I clawed at it, but no luck. It kept climbing me, higher and higher, on my small body. I opened my mouth to scream, but when I did, it darted from my face and slid down my throat just as forcefully as it come up.

The teacher didn't believe us. She just told us that I must have seen a worm and eaten it, and that I shouldn't eat worms. That was the first time, but not the last. In seventh grade, my friend Carter and I were walking home from school. It had just rained and there were mud puddles everywhere. He thought it would be hilarious to splash me, and I ended up soaked and caked in mud. I was a little annoyed, but I tried to take it in stride.

I splashed him back and lost his mind and started yelling at me. What the hell? Do you know much of this shirt costs? Why would you do that day? You splashed me first, I sat utterly indignant. Yeah, but your shirt is from Kmart. No one cares if it gets messed up. He'd never brought up the fact that my family was poor before.

But saying it then, that my clothes didn't matter, that I didn't matter because I was poor, sent me off. As he stormed away from me muttering every curse word of seven's-grader nose, I stood there wet and shivering from the cold and from my growing anger. My cheeks burned hot with hatred, and I could feel it rising, large and venomous. I clasped to my knees as the snake came up again. I'd almost forgot it had ever happened at all. When I was reminded of it, I was assumed I had misremembered or made the whole thing up.

But there I was. my snake It was larger than when I was five More aggressive It went straight for Carter And I was too surprised to say anything until I was too late Striking even possibly fast It bit him in the ankle

I gasped in horrors you cried out in pain And the snake slithered back to me I tried to get away from it Just as I had when I was five I ran to my friend to take back what had just happened To suck the poison out or something As I knelt down However, the snake came for me.

Carter tried to warn me, his anger replaced by shock getting bit. He must have thought it had been hiding in the mud puddle. It didn't help. The snake came for me, wrapped itself around my throat, and forced itself into my mouth again. I didn't know what to do. So I tried to ignore it to get the poison out of him. But he shoved me back down. Stay away from you, freak!

He shouted as he limped away. I sat there alone and crying, trenched in mud and shame. We never spoke again. In high school, it was a struggle to keep the snake down. I've always been short and unathletic. I struck out twice in T-ball. I was bookish. I was into theater and sci-fi.

Needless to say, I got picked on a lot. My throat was in constant pain for years, forcing the thing down, but I could always feel it. Down in my guts, growing larger by the day. While walking home from school one day, a guy from my chemistry class drove by, he'd been giving me grief for ages. Since freshman year, my throat had begun to reflexively clench when I saw him in hallways or football games. On this day, he swam his door

open as he passed, clipping me and knocking me to the pavement. I could feel the bruises starting before I even hit the ground. I felt the swelling in my throat. Pain so intense, I nearly blacked out. And from my mouth slithered a disturbingly large snake.

At least ten feet long and six inches thick. There was no way. It was physically impossible. How much had it grown since I last slipped and let it out? How could something so great and terrible possibly fit inside me? Couldn't breathe. And my eyes were too filled with tears to see clearly.

But I knew what was happening. The snake raced down the road after the car. I lost sight of it, but soon after heard a loud bang. Like a gunshot. The scream of tires. The crunch of metal and the sound of glass shattering filled the air. And then the snake returned.

A little smaller than before, but still a terrifying creature. I clenched my jaws shut, but the thing wrapped itself around my head, covering my nose so I couldn't breathe without opening my mouth. I could hold out no more. I gasped for air and in it went. Once more, I couldn't breathe, couldn't scream. I could only cry in silent agony as a snake forced its way back in. A pain is though my jaw were breaking as it forced its way in, back to coil up in my belly to sleep, to grow, to prepare to strike again.

The news later report that the car blown tire, causing the driver to lose control of the vehicle and impact into its own. a tree injecting the driver. He'd spend the next four weeks in the hospital recovering. He would go through physical therapy. He might never play sports again. His promising career crushed before it started. What a tragedy. But I knew what really happened.

The snake, my snake, had escaped and tracked him down, had bitten his tire as he'd. raced away. Some part of me felt guilty for what happened when I'd see him limp down the hallways. When I heard his voice fade away when the rest of the team would talk about state championships. But then I would see the way he stared at me. Read the things he wrote in my yearbook. And in my stomach I could feel the snake sleeping soundly, intentedly. I've never had many friends. I was too afraid they'd find out about the snake and call. me a freak like Carter had.

But not Julian. Julian was into the same things I was. It was cool. At least as far as my definition, a cool went. He really listened when we talk. He understood me. I'd never been as close to another human being as I was with Julian. One night, we were drinking suburban.

We'd snuck out of his dad's liquor cabinet, and I told him about the snake. At first, he thought I was speaking metaphorically. No, I told him. It was a literal snake. He laughed, and then got serious. He probably thought I was crazy, but he never said it, never implied it. It meant the world to me. I loved that guy.

Years later in college, we went out to a bar after catching a friend's improv show. And some homophobic dick came to our table, started calling Joe. Julian all sorts of terrible names. I told him to back off, but he didn't. Finally, the bartender got involved and made the guy leave. We nursed our drinks, but the verbal assault put a damper on the evening, and sooner rather than later, we called it a night. When we finally left, the guy was waiting for us in the parking lot.

He came at his heart, swearing and swinging. I've already said him small, and this guy had to least a head on me. He could take me in a fair fight, an unfair fight, any sort of way he wanted. Didn't matter. I tried to step in anyway, to stop him from attacking Julian, but he shoved me aside as easily as anything. I lay powerless, impotent on the ground as he shoved Julian down and began to kick him mercilessly. I shook.

And this time, when I felt my throat began to swell. I took a deep breath and let it happen. The thing about the snake is it wants to be out. It wants to be anywhere but inside of me, except when it needs to rest and recover. The thing slid effortlessly from my mouth. The size of an anaconda, bigger than me easily. And somehow that thing fit inside my tiny little body.

Coiled up in my guts. I was waiting to seize a moment and escape. Facing no resistance. It didn't hurt me at all coming up. It flew from me and wrapped around the drunk bastard McGuinness squeezed the life out of him. I even saw it coming. Who would? Who would expect an anaconda to fly out of a guy's mouth and crush you?

No one. Definitely not that drunk guy. I heard his bones break, but he didn't scream. Oh, he tried. I watched his face contort in agony, but the snake was so tight around him, he didn't have the air to make a peep. And I watched it happen.

I didn't try to wrestle it back in. I just watched and watched too. He watched in horror, in awe, A thousand emotions flashed across his face and I looked for one that let me know if we'd still be close when this was all over. Something to let me know if you'd be my friend at all. The snake unhinged its jaw and began to swallow the drunk. My stomach turned in horror and righteous anger.

When it was over, it slithered back to me, wound its way out my legs and arms, then disappeared back into my mouth as easily as it was over. came. It didn't hurt a bit. Instead, it coiled comfortably in my stomach. Like a hot meal on a cold day. I felt better. Justified. Whole. And then I saw Julian. This face a mix of fear, confusion, and revulsion. You really have a snake in you? Was all I could stammer out. I tried to take his shoulder to explain. But he just turned and walked away. My heart broke.

Then the snake stirred in its slumber. For three days he didn't return my tax and finally I stopped trying. Then a week later he called me. As far as I'm concerned, he said. We're still good. He never lied. You told me a long time ago about the snake. I didn't believe you, but that doesn't mean you didn't tell me.

And you saved me. No one ever stood up for me like that. Not even family. And I never thanked you for that. Thank you for that. We agreed to meet for drinks. To talk about what happened. We went to a place called Mickey Fins, and we let the questions flood out.

What happened? How long had I been dealing with it? Did the cops suspect anything? How guilty should we feel, really, even what the guy wanted to do. Julian convinced me we shouldn't feel guilty at all. I felt a little funny about it. It was easy for him to say not to feel bad. It wasn't his snake.

But he was right about a couple of things at least. The guy was a bastard. And the guy was probably going to kill Julian. He had it coming. Didn't he? As we made our way back to the car, a couple of assholes stepped up and gave Julian and me a shove and an insult. You don't want to do this tonight, Julian said, and I got the distinct impression he'd had run-ins with these guys before. Or what? Your boyfriend going to kick our asses?

I'm not his boyfriend, I said. But you don't want to do it. I know I don't. They laughed at each other. And mid-laff, one swung hard, punching Julian in the face, sending him sprawling. The other man, taking me by surprise, got me in a chokehold. With my friend out of the fight, the first one came and started dropping blow after blow into my abdomen.

I could feel the snakes stirring deep within me, but I didn't know if I'd be able to let it out even if I wanted to. The second man's arm constricted around my throat as surely as the snake had the other man a week ago. I couldn't get air out, with alone a snake. Would it be able to come up? Wanted to? Knowing what it was capable of? My vision started to blur around the edges.

The world slowly turned black. I could see the first had pulled away and began to give Julian another barrage of punches. Before losing consciousness, I felt my mouth drop open and the lurched the snake, waiting at the arm around my neck. Then I collapsed to the ground, pulled down by loss of oxygen, and my attacker's own fall. I woke and found Julian beaten and bloody, but raining kicks down on one of the attackers.

My snake lay curled on me, waiting for me. It lazily slunk towards me and disappeared down my throat. I didn't want the thing inside of me, but given that it had saved my. my life twice into weeks, I didn't fight it much. I only resisted a little, so it only hurt a little. It didn't swallow them, I said looking over at the other. What happened?

He didn't stop kicking. It bit them. He showed me the puncture wounds as I slowly got to my feet. There was a molting of the skin where necrosis had began to sit in. They may have been comatose. They may have been dead. I didn't want to check, but the way the snakes snuggled up in my belly told me anyway, they felt the sting of my anger.

Their veins burned with the heat of my hatred. Wouldn't be bothering anyone else again. Let's get out of here. I said my stomach and knots. A few blocks later, Julian broke the silence. Maybe the snake isn't a curse. It's evil, I said. Maybe.

Maybe it's just a tool. A tool's not good or evil. It's all on how you use it. And how should I use it? I said, feeling disgusted with what he said, but more disgusted by how comfortable I was with the idea. Think of all the assholes. The bigots out there curb stomping people just because they look different,

Pray different. Love different. The last words hung extra hard in the air. Pointed. Accusatory. I had a lot to think about. The news reported two men killed by snake bite, though talk screens couldn't say what kind.

Neither could the snake experts. No snakes missing from the zoo. No one knew where the snake could come from or where it had gone. No one but me and Julian. Julian and I went out again, this time to a dive bar in a part of town that hit hostility behind words like conservative and traditional family values. We hung out in the parking lot, pretending to flirt until someone came to give us grief about it. When he spit the first homophobic slur at us, I leaned in, opened my mouth, and before I knew what

happened, the snake had already struck, biting him on the neck before disappearing back down my throat and into my waiting belly. It was over in an instant. I didn't fight it anymore. The snake wants to be out. It wants to grow and feed and strike. And it became so easy to let it out. I almost wondered why I held it back in the first place.

It was so easy to point it at others, at the monsters, the assholes, to people who wronged me. Too easy. A few months later, the snake dominated the news. It had killed nine people. Still, no one knew where it had come from. Experts couldn't agree on what kind it was. Julian and I went out for drinks a lot.

After a long search for some asshole deserving of my special friend, we gave up and made our way back to Julian's. We both had a bit to drink and stumbled to the couch. Julian looked at me deeply and said, I never thanked you. You did. Not properly. And not just for saving me.

Not just for what we've been doing, but for everything. Yeah, man, no problem. Really. I appreciate it. I want you to know how much I appreciate it. Then he leaned in to kiss me. Maybe it was the booze. Maybe it was the residual buzz from getting away with something.

from sharing a secret that big. Maybe it was something deeper. Whatever it was, for a while I let him, and then I stopped him. Something, some old, long-forgotten circuit from my conservative upbringing kicked in and I pushed him off.

I'm not gay, I said. Of course you're not, he said with a wink as he moved back toward me. Seriously, I said as I gave him a second rebuff. I'm not gay. He gave me a look like I told him the moon didn't really exist. Okay, so you're by. But you can't pretend you're not in love with me.

I'm not. I said, my voice rising. I'm straight, Julian. He gave me an incredulous look, a wounded look. And I hated him. I hated him for calling me gay. I hated him for that hurt expression, like it was my fault we would never be together. For touching some raw nerve, I didn't know I had.

We're not getting together, I shouted, fury seizing every muscle in my body. It's never happening. Before I could stop it, before I could clench my throat, the snake was out and it wrapped itself around him. I tried to pry it off. tried to get it to come back inside, but it turned at me, hissed at me like it knew a secret, it wasn't ready to tell yet, then turned back to Julian, his eyes filling with tears, his skin turning purple. I beat the snake, put my mouth to it to try and swallow it back down, but I'd lost all control of it. I'd forgotten how, and although

while. I hated him. I hated him for pushing the issue. I hated him for making it so easy let the snake out. I hated him for being right about me, even if I wasn't ready to admit it yet, but I couldn't stop it. I sat there, weak and impotent, and watched it happen, and the hate grew, and the snake grew until it swallowed him whole. It turned back. back to me. Tears streaming down my face. My voice too hoarse to scream. My fists white, my palms bloody from how hard my fingernails are pressed into them. It tried to make its way back into my mouth, but I wouldn't let it. I wanted nothing to do with it anymore. The snake pressed harder. Tried to force its way in, but I was done. I convinced myself keeping that locked up inside.

me was the problem, letting it have a place to hide. I hated it. I hated Julian. I hated those assholes who taught me to let it out so easily. I hated Carter and the guy from chemistry. I hated the kid from second grade. As far as I knew, there was no snake before him. It was all his fault.

I hated everyone, and I didn't want it in me anymore. So it left me. But the snake attacks continued. And I knew what I was doing, lurking in the darkness, slipping through shadows, feeding out my anger, killing people who made me mad. These days I read the news a lot. I look for pundits and politicians and columnists and crime reports. I look for people to hate.

And it's so easy to find people to hate these days. I read the news and surf the internet looking for things from my snake. to eat. Anything to keep it busy. Anything to keep it from tracking down the one person I really, truly despot. Sometimes I worry I don't keep it busy enough because sometimes I lay in bed at night and I am certain I hear hissing outside my window. 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 Creepypod on Twitter,

Instagram, and Facebook, or email us. All stories told on this podcast can be found at creepypasta wiki.com and are protected by a Creative Commons license. some rights reserved unless otherwise stated.