Creepy - There's Something Wrong With the Homeless In My City

Episode Date: April 4, 2022

I should have called in sick...***Written by: KindaNotSmart***Bonus episode: "Room 23B" written By: Renee Settle and narrated By: Alicia Atkins***Content Warning: Alluded violence towards elderly, Murder/Suicide***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 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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Listener discretion is advised. Creepy presents. There's something wrong with the homeless in my city. Written by Kind and Not Smart. I worked the a.m. shifted hotel in Santa Monica. It's a fairly popular four-star hotel that faces directly out to the ocean. I honestly love my job. I work at the front desk and I'm out with a beautiful view of the ocean

through the entrance doors which lie directly in front of the desk. To the right of the desk is a small side entrance to the lobby along with a pair of windows that are pretty high up and unreachable from the outside. Honestly, the hotel's been dead lately. I spend my day browsing Reddit and catching up on homework. Santa Monica is very good. great city, but it has a large homeless population. It's very common to see homeless people walking past the hotel. Sometimes they even walk in, look around, then walk out. Other times, you can hear them outside

screaming at nothing. This is all very common in Santa Monica. Sometimes if I see a homeless person without shoes, I'll go and buy them a pair. My heart goes out to all these homeless people. They're human after all, right? April 10th, 2020. This is my first diary entry. I don't even know why I started this, but I guess I have a lot of thoughts, and I want a place to store them. Today was a pretty normal day at work.

Just the usual, a couple homeless people walking past the hotel, some other homeless dudes across the street screaming at a lamp post, etc. I've just been browsing Reddit, but I got bored and wanted to start writing out how my day went. Some homeless dude walked into the hotel, but ran out as soon as he read it, realized there was someone in here. April 11th, 2020. Today was a slow day, but something weird

happened. At 3 p.m., the PM person came in to relieve me for my shift. Her name was Anna, and I've always thought she was beautiful. She was coughing a lot when she arrived. Her hair was also a mess, and she looked like she'd seen a ghost. I joked and said, Corona and didn't get a response from her. I saw tears. start falling from her eyes. What's wrong? I asked. She broke down crying and then lifted her leg up.

She had a long sock on that went up to her knees, but she couldn't really tell because of the dress pants she had on. She rolled her pants up and rolled her sock down slowly. An infected bite mark on her calf was revealed to me. It was swollen and pulsating. The remnants of a band-aid fell onto the floor. I told her she needed to go. home, I'll stay and cover a shift.

She refused, though. She said she really needs money for rent this month, and she needs a shift. I'll be fine, she told me. She then went on and explained that before work, she parked here at work and walked over to a gas station nearby to pick up a monster energy drink. Sitting outside the door to the gas station was a homeless man with bloodshot eyes. As she was walking in, he flung himself towards her leg and took a bite. out of it. She kicked him in the face really hard, breaking his nose and sending blood gushing onto her shoes. Luckily, she had spare shoes in the back of her car. That sounds

horrible. I'm so sorry you went through that, I said. I asked one last time, do you want to go home? And she was sure that she wanted to stay. So I left. April 12, 2020. Today, a group of homeless people walked by the hotel. One of them didn't have shoes. I decided that after work I'll try to find him and get him some shoes. I don't think any living human should have to walk around the streets barefoot. April 12th, 2020. Well, I found him.

Or whatever was left of him, he explained. I was driving home after work when I saw the same homeless man I'd seen earlier. He was lying back against the wall in an alley. Weird, though, he had red socks on. He didn't have them on earlier. I parked my car and started walking over to him so I could potentially get his shoe size. They got closer to him. I came across a site that sent chills on my spine and made my stomach churn.

Those weren't red socks. His feet were mangled and covered in blood. There was bone ripping through the skin that once covered his feet and were now dangling off the bone. He had blood all over his shirt and his skin looked deteriorated. His skin looked very fleshy, as if multiple layers of his have been peeled off. His jaw was broken and his eyes were bloodshot red. He didn't look alive. He was limp and his head was facing down but his eyes were wide open.

I got scared, quickly called the cops and before I ran away I had to take a picture. My camera covered his entire body but my eye. eyes were only focused on the bone that was sticking out of his foot. I got my picture, ran back to my car, and drove home. April 13th, 2020. I'm at work again. I'm fine. Barely been thinking about it the other day.

I feel like I'm desensitized to stuff like this. I forgot I'd even taken a picture. The reason I'm writing again is because today was a weird day. I mentioned how it was common for homeless people to walk past the hotel, but today was different. It wasn't once in a while. I literally couldn't go five minutes without seeing homeless people stumbling past the hotel. I know Santa Monica has a lot, but just seemed like they multiplied overnight. April 16th, 2020.

On the way to work today, the streets had significantly more homeless people than I did before. They were everywhere, and they all had those same bloodshot eyes as the first deceased homeless guy did. They looked lifeless, just limping and stumbling around the streets. April 18th, 2020. On the way to work, I noticed something worrying. There were no cars. Anywhere. The entire city of Santa Monica did not have a single car in it, or a single person walking around.

This city is usually thriving. Santa Monica only has outdoor malls, so there are usually hundreds of people walking around despite COVID. But today, there wasn't a single person or car in sight. Only homeless people. Everywhere. We ended up having zero check-ins that day. Almost every employee no-showed except for the security guard, Alan, April 19th, 2020.

On my way to work today, I was almost late because there was a bunch of detours through construction going on all over the outskirts of the city. Weird. I worked my first PM shift, and a no-call-no showed, so I had to stay. She's never missed a shift in her life. Weird. Anyway, at night we turned the lights in the lobby down very low. Earlier I mentioned that sometimes a homeless person will walk into the lobby, look around,

then leave right after. Well, tonight, I was sitting at the front desk when I heard a very disturbing sound. It sounded like bone crunching and scraping against the floor. It also sounded like it was getting closer until the front door to the lobby opened. A homeless-looking man limped into the lobby. He had a hoodie on over his head. I couldn't see his face. only darkness underneath the hood.

There was one feature of his face that I could see, and that was his bloodshot eyes that were as wide as they could go. He walked into the lobby and then just stood there, hunched over, staring at me. I asked him if I could assist him, but he didn't say anything. I was very uncomfortable, and without taking my eyes off of him, I was trying to find my radio to call over security. I could hear him breathing. It was a very raspy sound as if his lungs were frivolous fluid.

He was standing behind one of the sofas in the lobby, so I could only see him from the waist up. I finally got a hold of my radio, and as soon as I clicked the button to speak, the loudest, most inhumane and blood-curdling scream I've ever heard in my life. It caught me off guard, causing me to flinch and drop my radio. He stopped screaming and then said sir making a raspy grunting sound. He started limping his way over to me and again I heard that disgusting sound of crunching bones. And that's when I saw his mangled feet with bones sticking out of them.

They looked exactly like the dead homeless man I'd encountered ten days ago. Luckily, security heard the screams and came rushing over. Our security guard Alan was the nicest guy I'd ever met. He was also 5'10 and around 300 pounds. He saw the homeless guy limping towards me and grabbed him by his hoodie. He successfully dragged the homeless guy to the entrance, but he had to use one arm to open the door. And that's when the homeless guy shook loose, grabbed a hold of Allen,

and took a chunk out of his neck. The entrance door was still open. I ran over and drop-kick the homeless guy up the door. I hurt my elbow pretty bad when I left. landed, but I didn't want to get anywhere near that, Saco. I got Alan's keys and locked all entrances to the hotel. April 19th, 2020. Alan bled out on the floor.

Every other employee no-called, no shout. It was only him and I. I received an emergency alert on my phone urging Santa Monica residents not to leave their homes. The alert said Santa Monica was undergoing a citywide lockdown. and everyone caught outside their homes would be taken to jail. I tried calling the Santa Monica Police Department, but when I called, it would just say that due to high volume of calls,

I'd have to wait until an operator is available. I left the phone on for 20 minutes, and still nothing. On the other phone, I called 911, and once I asked me for the location of my emergency and I said Santa Monica, they would just hang up. I noticed a crowd of homeless people now surrounding them, to the hotel. Through the front entrance, there were homeless people, all with bloodshot eyes,

going as far back as I could see, just standing there, staring and groaning. The side entrance had the same thing, as did the employee entrance. There was no other possible way out of the hotel. April 19th, 2020, I decided to check my camera roll to see what the deceased homeless guy from 10 days ago was wearing. to see if it matched the one that was currently at the front entrance staring at me. I brought up the picture, and what I saw made me drop my phone. Remember how I mentioned that the homeless person was dead,

looking down towards the floor when I saw him in the alley? And how when I snapped the picture, my eyes were focused on the bone sticking out of his foot? Well, when I saw the picture in my camera roll, the dead homeless guy was staring directly into the camera. that's the same one who's currently at the entrance of the hotel April 19th, 2020. Alan might still be alive. He's still on the floor with a pool of blood around him, but I saw his fingers moving and his body shaking. His eyes are still wide open with the same look of horror he had when he bled out and died.

But they've become bloodshot red. It also looks like a few layers of his skin were pulled off because his skin's skin. looking very fleshy. Why is there nothing on the news about what's going on? I'm Googling it, but there's nothing. April 19th, 2020. I felt uncomfortable when I saw Alan convulsing on the floor, so I went downstairs to grab a baton out of the security office.

When I came back to the lobby, I didn't see Alan. I saw the pool of blood on the floor, along with a chunk of his neck that was ripped out. But I didn't see him. All that was different was a set of bloody footprints. I followed them and they led to the closed door of the bathroom. Due to COVID, we closed our public restrooms. I tried to use the men's one once, but the light stopped working in it and the engineer didn't want to fix it since nobody's supposed to be using it.

So when I slowly creaked the door open, it's completely pitch black inside the bathroom. I couldn't see inside. But whatever was inside would definitely be able to see me. Alan? I shouted into the bathroom. No response. Just in case, I flicked the light switch, but the lights were unresponsive as well.

The door to the bathroom is a heavy one that closes on its own. I hesitantly took a few steps into the bathroom and the door shut behind me. I was standing in pure black. My phone was out of battery and I had to be. no charger. The only flashlight was in a lock safe in the security office. The smell in the bathroom made me want to vomit. It wasn't a typical bathroom kind of smell. It was a bathroom with 50 decomposing bodies kind of smell. I heard fast and raspy breathing, but the acoustics in the bathroom were fucked up and I couldn't tell what was coming from.

The sweat was protruding through every pore in my bodies I tightened my grip on the metal. a baton in my hand. The humidity and the smell in the bathroom was really getting to me. I let out a quick and desperate whisper, and of course I was given no response. I knew the layout of the bathroom, so a light wasn't important in navigation. It was only important to not being murdered by a 5-10, 300-pound dude. I'm 6-6 myself, but I'm only 180 pounds. So I was at a disadvantage even with the baton.

Despite that, I reached out to the first stall. I slowly placed my sweat, drenched hand over the handle. And right as I started to pull, the raspy breathing discontinued. It was completely quiet. That's silent. I pulled the door open, and that's when I heard the same blood-curling scream as a homeless man earlier let out. I also could see two red circles in the stall. I threw my baton at it and sprinted out of the bathroom.

I got two heavy metal trash cans and put them in front of the door. The door moves inward, so that didn't block it, but at least I would hear if the trash cans were removed. I ran back to the front office, April 20th, 2020. I've been hearing banging on the walls for the past hour. Sounds like it's coming from the bathroom. It's already 12 a.m. at this point, and, no surprise, the overnight person's not arrived for their shift an hour ago.

There's so many homeless people outside that they're literally piled up. I can't see a foot past the front doors because it's literally just a pile of those red-eyed homeless people piled up on top of each other staring into the hotel. I'm glad they're too dumb to think to break the glass. I went downstairs to check if they were still grouped up outside the garage, and of course they were. They were completely piled up over each other at the gate of the garage. I don't think a truck would have been able to clear that out. April 20th, 2020. I took the stairs up to the roof of the hotel.

I feel safer up here. I don't know why I didn't do it earlier. It's 1 a.m. now. When I look down from the roof, I see the homeless stretched out in every direction for miles. I see something that strikes even more confusion in me, though. I see helicopters They're not near me though They seem to be on the outskirts of the city

Actually I can't even see past the outskirts of the city It's just black I can see the sky past the city But directly ahead it seems like there's just a wall of black Surrounding us A wall of black A wall Did they close the city off?

Is that why I even seen a single car or a single person? I feel like I would have known if they closed the city off. I don't even live in the city. I had to drive in. How is it possible that they could put a wall up in the span of a day? There was no wall when I arrived. The only thing out of the ordinary was the construction that made me late from a shift. The construction.

Am I stuck here? April 20th, 20th. I got an idea. I went down to the engineering area and grabbed their storage of fuel for the fireplaces. I went down to the food and beverage department and got a few bottles of vodka. Lastly, I went to housekeeping and got a few towels. I took my tools up to the roof of the hotel, directly over the garage. As I was going up the stairs, I heard some loud metal crashing sound, but I didn't think much of it.

I heard a lot of noises today. Anyway, I used a computer to show me how to make a Molotov cocktail. I emptied the bottles, filled them with fuel, shoved a towel inside, lit the towel, and let it rain. I dropped five bottles of the stuff, and that did a good job of scattering the homeless. I hope I won't be put in prison for this. I didn't really have a choice.

I quickly ran down to the garage and caught into my car. I guess I forgot to lock my car. Weird. Just in case I checked the back seat, but there was nothing. April 20th, 2020. I rammed it into the gate with my car. All the homeless who were piled up in front have been scattered due to my cocktails, so there was nothing stopping me.

They were still everywhere, though, and I didn't hesitate to run over any homeless person in my path. It was dark out. Half the streetlights were off or flickering, and all I could see were bodies and red eyes. I couldn't go three seconds although hearing a thump and feeling my car go up and down.

April 20th, 2020. I'm driving out of this city. I'm almost to the outskirt. On the way of here I've seen unimaginable horrors. There was blood on every building and every street like some fucked up graffiti. Guts, arms, legs, whatever other body part or organ you can imagine.

It was just littered across the street. street. Homeless people that look like they've been completely skinned alive, limping around the streets with bones and guts pouring out of their bodies in those red fucking eyes. April 20th, 2020. I'm now almost directly beneath the helicopters. I was right, the city's completely walled off. The wall looks 10 stories high, but the wall just goes on for miles. I have to find where the entrance is. There has to be some kind of checkpoint or entrance that can leave people in and out of the city. My car's acting up, though. It just drives differently than I'm used to.

I don't know why. April 20th, 2020. I did it. I found the checkpoint. I'm driving up to it now. Everything that's happened this week is rushing through my hidden flashes. The crowds of homeless walking past the hotel. The dead homeless guy in the alley in his resurrection.

Anna getting bitten by one and then disappearing. Every other employee at the hotel, along with the entirety of Santa Monica, disappearing. Alan and whatever he turned into. Everything's coming together now. Everything's going to be okay. I'm going to get out safely. Despite everything coming together, there was still one thing that made me uncomfortable. My car being unlocked.

My car driving differently. What was that metal crashing sound when I was going up to the roof? Whatever. None of that matters now. I see people. Actual people. No blood, no bones, no guts, and most of all, no red eyes. Instead, I see military camo outfits and assault rifles.

I take that over the former any day. I'm finally safe. I feel a smile, cracked my face for the first time what feels like years. I'm finally safe. Incident report. April 20th, 2020, Santa Monica. Three deceased.

One civilian. Two soldiers. Civilian approached us in his car. He got out of his car with his hands up and shouted, I'm not one of them. We sent Bronkowski and Rogers out to meet the civilian and check for bite marks. They did a quick search of his body and did not find any. He was not one of the...

In a measure of safety, we had to check his vehicle to make sure he wasn't sneaking anybody or anything in. Rogers checked the front while Broncosky checked the back. Last place to check was the trunk. Rogers and Broncosky drew their weapons and had the civilian open the trunk as the final inspection. The civilian opened up the trunk and a lunged itself at the civilian. This one was huge, probably around 300 pounds. The bit the civilian and managed to get a bite out of Rogers too before it was put down. Rogers and the civilian were on the floor bleeding out.

Bronkowski said walking back to the checkpoint. We cannot take the risk. We left the door locked. Bronkowski tried everything to get in, screamed, even shot the door, but was unable to penetrate our bulletproof plating. Rogers and the civilian then stood up and had red in their eyes. They had become one of the... They ran up behind Bronkowski and took bites out of him as well.

All three are confirmed to have become for your bonus episode. Creepy Presents Room 23B, written by Renee Settle and narrated by Alicia Atkins. Thursday, July 8th, 643 a.m. My name is Jane Watts. I live in a small town in Idaho. I'm a 45-year-old certified nursing assistant. I'm not too good at writing in a journal, but Dr. Latchman says I should try because it will help me get through what happened to me.

I haven't been able to sleep very well since it happened. The nightmares are too real. I don't think I can keep going like this. I'm afraid to go to work. I'm afraid to go anywhere. I feel like she's following me. I can hear her behind me when I'm walking down the street in broad daylight. even in broad daylight.

But where she is, isn't daylight. There is no sun where that thing came from, and I think she brought the dark with her when she came here. I can't believe it's only been three days since it happened. It feels like three years, three centuries. Monday, July 5th. I was going about my round at Summer Air Assisted Living. My clients can still interact with the,

world for the most part, they just need a little more assistance, so to speak. I used to love my job, until... My favorite part was bringing breakfast to Doreen and Darlah. They are 89-year-old twins who share room 23A. It's in the back part of the building near the rear exit. All the CNAs hate going down that hallway because of room 23B, right across the hall from 23A. Doreen and Darla are sweet, kind, sunny women who always laugh and smile and talk to each other.

They don't speak to anyone else. They never have, according to local rumors. Room 23B has been empty for the six years since I started there. The door stays locked. Rhonda, the administrator, says it's a storage room. It's not ever been my job to figure out what room 23B is or isn't. I was here to do my job and do it well. I love my patience and we'll do anything for them.

I don't have time for bullshit scary stories. Now I... I just don't know. I'm shaking so hard I can barely write. The breakfast chime has sounded. I'll be back after breakfast. 9.42 a.m. Breakfast was good. Oatmeal is always good.

especially if they let me have maple syrup and brown sugar in it. I love that. So, where was I? Oh, yeah. Monday. July 5th. Doreen and Darla. Room 23B.

It's just crazy. It was my last morning stop. I always save room 23A for last on Mondays because the ladies are more agitated and take more time to settle down. They always seemed more warm. watchful and less cheerful. Every other day of the week they are bright and babbling, as if they are at a party. Lying on their beds, covers pulled up and tucked under their thin arms. The beds are situated so they can face each other across the small room and converse and babble without turning their heads.

Alice, the lead RN, says the previous administrator tried to move their beds side by side one time. It didn't work out well. That was all Alice would say about. it, but her eyes showed a shadow of something different. God, I didn't know. How could I've known? No one told me. Would I believe them if they did anyway? I can't unsee what I've seen. I shouldn't have gone back that night. I should have just left it alone. But Dorine and Darla have never said a single word to me before. So, when they both turned as one to look at me that morning, I was caught off guard. I was cleaning their floor.

It's the last thing I do, so that everything is spotless and smells nice. I stood up from ringing out the mop, and both of them with their scraggly, thin, white hair and matching set of glittering green eyes were looking at me. Those wrinkled faces and toothless grins faced me. I realized they weren't babbling. I think I said, Good morning, ladies. I know it was something stupid and innocuous. They stared at me and grinned.

I don't think they actually saw me, even though it looked like they were staring into my soul. How are you? I couldn't think of anything else to say. This was just plain weird. Then, in monotone childlike gravel voices, they said, She's coming out tonight.

You can't let her reach the door. Don't let her reach the door. Darla turned back to face her sister, but Doreen continued to stare at me. Help us keep her in. Her face was placid. Her eyes were empty. But her voice... Help us keep her in.

Her voice was pleading. I couldn't look away. The difference between what I was seeing. Seeing and what I heard was so strange and mesmerizing. Then Doreen turned to face her sister, and the grinning, happy babble started again. I stood there for a long time, trying to process what they'd said. Those were the first words I had ever, in six years, heard them utter. Hell, I didn't even think they knew how to talk, but apparently I was wrong.

I was so very wrong. Don't let her reach the door. That's what they had said. I actually thought that Doreen was telling me Darlah was going to try and escape. That's why I went back that night, because they had talked to me. Not to anyone else, but me. I should have told Alice or Rhonda. God-damned, stupid son of a bitch that I am.

I should have told someone. But I didn't. I thought I could save them. I thought I could save Darla. Now... I can't even save myself. It's time for session with Dr. Latchman. She wants to help me.

She wants to save me. 7.18 p.m. I'm sorry I haven't written much today. It's difficult to think when they give you medications that slow down your brain. Dr. Latchman says it's good to slow down my brain because it was overstimulated. I know what that means. I've worked in health care most of my life. It means I freaked out.

You're goddamn right, I freaked out. You would have freaked out too. If you had felt what had touched me with its dry, caked, bony fingers, you'd have completely melted down. Jesus, I'm shaking again. I need to calm down. There's a sound coming from behind the door of my room. It sounds like screeching of mice on a linoleum floor.

But it's not mice. It's her. They lock us in at night for safety reasons. I don't feel safe. How could she find me here? I'm all the way across the city from summer air. Besides, she wasn't moving when they found me. holding the clipboard I had used to beat her head in.

Dr. Latchman said Rhonda heard me screaming when she'd come in that morning, saw what I was doing, and immediately called for help. Why didn't the on-call nurse hear me? I was there all night. They said I'd bitten my own arms. They said I'd scratched my legs. They had no clue what I'd done with my big toe. She did it to me.

I was doing what the twins had asked me. To do, I was keeping her from reaching the door. Shit. There it is. That's scratching again. I'm calling the nurse. The crone at the door. They need to stop her before she gets in.

9.33 p.m. Stupid nurse. Her name is Angela. I hate her. I tried to tell her about the crone, scratching at my door. I asked her to check the hallway to make sure she wasn't crawling closer. I even asked politely.

I would have been all right if she hadn't laughed. But she did. So I hit her. It was just to knock some sense into her. I wanted her to close the door and listen. Just listen for the scratching. And she would have believed me. But she wouldn't.

She laughed at me, so I hit her. Then the orderlies came. They didn't have to hold me down. I'm claustrophobic, so I freaked out. And they gave me a shot. The shot has made me tired, so I'm writing this in bed. I can still hear the scratching, and I think I smell something.

But I'm too tired to call that bitch nurse Angela. I need to sleep. July 10th, 942 a.m. They gave me another shot. Dr. Latchman says I need to rest. Can't think. I hear the scratching, but I don't care. Sleep.

July 11th, 4.24 p.m. Dr. Latchman says one more day. another shot. Scratching. July 12th, 1.12 p.m. I'm back in my room now. It's strange to be here and think that I was so afraid. I have my desk, a small three-drawer dresser,

my bed, and two chairs. The one I'm sitting in right now and one by the window. The chair by the window is more comfortable than this one. this one is wooden and high-backed there are scratches on the back of it like someone dragged it across the blacktop it's uh it's been a few days i know i had a little bit of a meltdown there for a while but i'm better now i was kept in isolation and watched for two days i was so happy because i didn't hear any scratching at all then i was put in on my isolation, and watched at night for two days. Still, no strange noises. Plus, Dr. Latchman spent a lot of time helping me understand what happened.

She is cautiously optimistic that if I continue to improve, I'll be able to leave here and go back to work. Sometimes, people have a traumatic event happened to them, and it leaves them unable to cope. It's fixable, Dr. Latchman says. It is fixable and treatable. I'm not crazy. I just felt crazy for a while. I will get better.

I know I will. 10.27 p.m. So far, so good. No noises, smells, or strange happenings. I don't know why I thought there would be. I know there's nothing to be afraid of. I know there's nothing there. and if I start to hallucinate again,

Dr. Latchman says I only need to close my eyes and repeat these words. There is nothing there. There is nothing there. There is nothing there. Then, when I open my eyes again, I'll know there is nothing really there. We've been practicing it for days now with success. I'm ready.

There is nothing there. July 13th, 6.33 a.m. I slept through the night with no hallucinations. No nightmares of any kind. I am so happy. I think I'm over the worst part. Dr. Latchman said yesterday that if I slept through the night, we would be able to start talking about what happened again.

I won't be able to leave until I can tell Dr. Latchman what happened for real. Not what I thought I saw. not what I thought I heard. I will tell them what really happened to Doreen and Darla. What I remember isn't true. Dr. Latchman said hypnotism works really well in cases like mine. Hypnotism would take me back to that night. Then Dr. Latchman will walk me through what really happened.

Then I can be better and go home. I can't wait. I'm so excited. 12.12 p.m. Lunch was roasted pork sandwiches and brown gravy with a side of sweet corn. I had my choice of milk, tea, coffee, or water. I like milk. After I journaled this morning, they let us outside into the courtyard.

The sun was shining again. I love summer. There's so much sunshine and growth. There's so much green. My favorite color. There's also more light and less dark. I've found since I've been here that I don't like the dark. I know everyone is afraid of the dark.

But most people have never really seen the dark. Seen it for what it is. I have seen it. I have felt it. I've experienced it and I've decided that the light is so much nicer to be in. The light might give you a sunburn. You just might get skin cancer and die. But the dark?

will take your soul. I think I'll go back outside and sit in the sun. I'm shivering. It's dark in here. July 14th, 3.30 a.m. The noises came back. It was just a few minutes ago. That scratching noise.

This time it sounded like claws on wood. It woke me out of a deep sleep. Then the horrid smell came from under the door. It smelled like wet leaves and rotten pork with putrid milk underneath. It was nauseating. I remembered Dr. Latchman's method and shut my eyes. I started chanting. There is nothing there.

There is nothing there. There is nothing there. Taking deep breaths. I repeated my mantra three times. Then I opened my eyes. The dim light held no mind. I couldn't hear any noises, couldn't smell anything either. It was gone.

I'm so happy. I can't wait to tell Dr. Latchman about this. She'll be so proud. Today we start the hypnotism. I better get back to sleep now, because six o'clock comes early. I feel as if a weight has been lifted. I know this sounds trite, but I really feel like this is going to work. I'll write more later.

7.21 a.m. Breakfast was oatmeal with maple syrup and brown sugar. I poured a little extra pancake syrup on mine this morning. I am feeling sweet today. I'll be heading down to see Dr. Latchman for our first session this morning. She is going to be so excited about last night. She's a very nice doctor. I don't even think that bitch nurse and her.

Angela can get my go today. I'll write more later. P.S. Oh, by the way, the sun is shining brightly today. 9.35 p.m. The smell is horrible. The sound is so loud. I need to concentrate.

It's not real. There is nothing there. There's nothing there. God, please. Don't let there be anything there. July 15th, police report. Case number ACSD1021. Date, July 15, 1974.

Reporting officer, Gary Smith, Anderson County Sheriff Deputy. Prepared by Gary Smith, Anderson County Sheriff Deputy. Incident. Murdered suicide at string-line mental health facility in Ridge Falls, Anderson County, Idaho. Detail of event. I arrived at Stringlein Mental Health Facility at 0-310, responding to a call for a possible murder-suicide.

I arrived just as Anderson County ambulance was pulling up. Paramedic Steve and Jerry accompanied me inside. Dr. Joyce Latchman escorted us to the scene. Upon arrival to Room 23B, the first victim, identified as Jane Watts, was lying in the center of the room. To the left, about three feet from the body, lay the perpetrator slash second victim, Tommy Shaw. According to witnesses, he is a longtime resident of the facility.

Victim 1 was lying on her back. The head twisted sideways against the right shoulder. There were no outward signs of sexual assault. The victim was still fully clothed. See Attachment 1A for photographic evidence. As we entered the room, I noted that Victim 2 was against the right wall in a sitting position. A metal butter knife extruded from his right nostril approximately two inches. The rest appeared embedded in the victim's head.

According to the night nurse, Angela Tanner, she witnessed the final scene when Victim 2 was shoving the knife into his own nose in an upward fashion. Miss Tanner states that the victim, Tommy, was screaming the following words. Hungry, hate you, need. Tommy in a repeated fashion. Miss Tanner was very distressed. Actions taken.

I secured the scene, took photographs of the room and surrounding area, then allowed the ambulance to require and transport the two bodies for examination. I interviewed the witnesses, Dr. Latchman and Angela Tanner. Dr. Latchman was overseeing both Tommy and Jane's care. Summary.

According to witness statements, photographic evidence and on-scene observation, I believe the perpetrator, Tommy Shaw, entered the room of victim one, Jane Watts, at approximately 9.40 p.m. last night. There was a struggle, and Tommy killed Miss Watts by twisting her head. There is no outward visual evidence of stab wounds on Miss Watts' body. However, the M.E. will determine in more detail.

Mr. Shaw then proceeded to commit suicide by driving the dull butter knife acquired from the cafeteria into his brain. via his right nostril. No further information has been collected, and the case will be closed pending M.E. determination. Both Ms. Watts and Mr. Shaw have no surviving relatives. The bodies will be turned over to the city of Ridge Falls' funeral home for burial in a local cemetery.

Ridge Falls Newspaper, July 17, 1974. Local nurse killed by lunatic. Jane Watts, a local nurse who worked at Summer Air Nursing Home, was killed on July 14th by Tommy Shaw, best known for the sensational murder of his parents 20 years prior. Tommy has been a residence of string-line mental health facility since the murder of his family, and the court's subsequent determination that he was mentally unstable and unable to be held accountable for his crimes. Dr. Latchman, resident physician for the facility, says that both patients were doing well and didn't know each other.

It is unknown how Tommy got into Miss Watts' room, as they are in separate, secure areas. The string line facility board of directors has opened an investigation into the incident to determine what could be done to ensure future safety of the patients. Both Ridge Falls residents will be buried in the indigent section of the Ridge Falls Cemetery, as neither have any known relatives. For more information on this podcast, including how to submit your own story for consideration, please visit creepypod.com.

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