Creepy - Wagging Tongues Brewery

Episode Date: August 17, 2026

Wagging Tongues Brewery***Written by: J Roc and Narrated by: Nichole Goodnight***Code Oscar***Written by: EM Otero and Narrated by: Jimmy Ferrer***The Hum***Written by: Nicholas Coffey***Content warning: dead animals***Support the show at patreon.com/creepypod***Title music by: Alex Aldea Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

No. This is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepypastas and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened or are simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence. and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. Hey, everyone.

Please join me in welcoming and thanking new patrons. Chris Hover, Logio Villa Signor, Lindsay Norton, Linda Jelinek, and Darth Tucks. And now please join me in thanking our five-year-or-more club patrons. Sean Yates, Sean the CHP, Linda Livingston, Brody Miao Ninja, Jacqueline Scott, Tara Sink, Mel, Shikendra Morgan, Paul Hurtado, and Tim Tweed. All patrons get their shoutouts and early commercial free access to all episodes. Other reward tiers also include weekly bonus episodes and logo merch. To see how you can support the show and get rewarded for it,

please check out the donation tiers to patreon.com slash creepy pod. And before we get to today's episode, just one more reminder that this Tuesday, August 18th, is Texas Chainsaw Day nationwide, meaning the original Toby Hooper directed Texas Chainsaw Massacre will be back in theaters for one night. And before the showing, there will be a special presentation created and performed by the narrators from creepy. As I understand it, our video is slated to appear about 10 minutes before the scheduled showing. So if your showtime is 7 p.m., it should be playing at 6.50, so don't be late.

Get there a little early. Get some snacks, get comfy, and enjoy Texas Chainsaw Massacre on the big screen. I've got my tickets. To check if a theater near you is playing it as well as showtimes, make sure to check out fathomentertainment.com. That's fATH-O-M-entertainment.com. Now on with show. First up, a woman's disastrous first date takes a terrifying turn

when a night at a brewery leaves her trapped with something that should not exist. From writer J-Rock and narrated by Nicole Goodnight, Creepy presents Waking Tung's Brewery. Everyone has a horror story involving a damn dating app, don't they? Well, I win. Pass the trophy. My best friend had just gotten married and I thought, this time next year I won't be alone. Everyone I knew was getting married and having kids and I didn't want to be left behind. I was willing to settle, to overlook some things and wander outside of my comfort zone.

It was less about love and more about. building a future that didn't involve me morphing into a lonely old lady. Now I've got one night of baggage you'd need a freight train to carry. I know I'm rambling. I just don't want to think about it. The detectives need my statement and I know they're frustrated that I can't answer them the traditional way, can't sit through the usual interviews. All I can hear is that damn humming.

Those notes hovering in my ears like buzzing mosquitoes. It drowns out everything else. I'll recount that night, one time, on paper. I know where the truth will get me, but at least I'm alive. I downloaded the app, matched with Taylor, and agreed to meet them at 8 p.m. at the Waging Tong Brewery, the venue for a band they enjoyed. I'd never been to a hardcore concert, but Taylor was cute enough, had a steady job in the legal field, and they owned hedgehogs, which was pretty cool.

I took the bus to the stop down the street from the brewery and almost didn't get off. I had that roiling feeling in my gut that I thought was nerves, but now I wonder if it was some sort of prediction. The driver yelled at me to stop waffling, so I stepped out into the industrial area and felt the doors closed behind me and the bus pull away. There was no way back. I was hyper aware of the quiet street. I speedwalk to the brewery, which was past train tracks and a big parking lot with a shed on it. It was windowless, concrete, industrial, just like everything else in that neighborhood. Some component of the brewery hissed with steam, making soft, airy sounds like it was alive. It smelled like yeast, even from outside.

I reached the door before I heard a voice behind me calling my name. Sophie? I turned to see my date in the flush, all of my nerves from before lighting up like wildfire. I recognized Taylor from their pictures. Though they were cute, their outfit was not my style. Leather pants and a plaid button-down shirt left open over a t-shirt. A mullet peeked out for a little. under a beanie. Their eyes were smudged with black liner. They were tall and soft looking,

and had a dazed expression on their round face. The concert stopped back, they said. I followed them behind the building. A large parking lot gave way to a set of stairs descending into a depressed concrete yard. I followed Taylor down into the pit, stepping over patches of ice and cigarette butts until we entered through a glass door. They paid to get us past the doorman, who stamped the back of our hands with a red axe. The venue was a massive cavern. with a small, simple menu over a minimalistic bar. A long dance floor bordered benches on one side and a makeshift wall made out of racks of barrels on the other.

The first band was setting up their gear on a low stage, and behind them was a mural that featured a titan with many mouths, tongues wagging, lips cracking, eyes barely open, squinting in white and blue against swollen pink flesh. He looked like he was about to crawl onto the stage where the musicians were setting up and devour them. Small crowds gathered at the bar in the stage. Everyone seemed to know each other. I ordered a Pilsner and we took a seat on one of the empty couches.

The band promised tonight would be a special performance. Taylor said, The rest of our conversation was the awkward first date stuff, I think. I wish I could remember it more clearly. We were interrupted by the striking chord of an electric guitar blasting over the room. It was so loud and low that it split the air and traveled through my bones in a heavy vibration. I choked on my drink and Taylor ran to fetch me water in a solo cup. They patted me on the back until my breathing was normal, then dragged me to the stage where the crowd had begun to gather.

I felt weird. Maybe it was nerves, or my beer, or the intense high noise as the band began to play. Around us, people were already twitching, headbanging, dancing, getting revved up. Taylor took my arm and bounced up and down. Their drinks sloshing over the edges of their cup and splattering onto the concrete floor. We're entity. Fuck yeah. Who's here to listen to something?

some awesome fucking music. The crowd screamed. The band began playing in earnest. The music shot through me and made a home in my ribcage. I felt like I would shake apart. The music was certainly loud. Everyone was dancing, thrashing, or headbanging, including my date. There wasn't an iota of embarrassment or shame.

I nodded along uncomfortably while Taylor lost it. Every time I thought the song was over, it picked up again. I began feeling a little fuzzy. the edges of the room softening and found myself staring up at a ladder hanging on the wall. The bass didn't touch the ground and it curved away from the wall about 30 feet up, running like a narrow bridge over the barrels and into the dark beyond of the brewery. I looked back to the stage. The singer was a pretty girl in a long plaid skirt and baggy banty.

Piercing studded her nose and ears. She set her guitar aside and sat on her knees facing the many-mouthed Titan, her back to the crowd. The Titan gaped down at her and it looked. looked like his mouths all smiled at once. I tried to count them, but I couldn't focus. She began to hum. Her voice rising and falling, rasping words I couldn't quite catch.

The bassist and drummer picked up the tune, the reverb and miced amps multiplying the sound until my ears rang. Fuzzy gave way to something more sinister. I felt off kilter, like I was alone in the woods and just realized the sun was almost down. Cold sweat dripped down my back. I shuddered. The world slid down around me.

I'm going to the bathroom. I yelled, but Taylor didn't acknowledge me. They pressed their eyes closed and their drinks slipped from their hand, shattering on impact. No one but me seemed to notice or care. The bathroom was around the stage on the other side of the wall where the many-mouthed man was painted. Glass cases on the other walls displayed bottles of the brewery's beer going back decades. The labels were disturbing. I spied a picture of a dismembered tongue and tore my...

eyes away. The bathroom door opened and I dashed inside and fell to my knees to pray to the porcelain gods. I don't know how long I was on that dirty bathroom floor. It could have been minutes or hours. I don't know why I was so sick either. Half a beer wasn't enough to make me spew. Was it nerves? Was I drugged? I don't know. This whole night had been a mistake. I decided to slip out and message Taylor from the bus. I splashed a little tap water on my face and wiped my mouth on a paper towel, hyper aware of how the room seemed to tip while I propped myself against the sink. I closed my eyes and counted down, breathing through my nose until my dizziness faded. I opened the door to an aching silence.

Not silent, I realized. The singer was still humming. I rounded the corner and found the room dark and empty. The stage was still illuminated by flashing neon lights and a string of Edison, bulbs gave just enough light to see the path to the door. How long was I in there? And where had everyone gone? It felt like I was the butt of a joke I didn't understand. It was hard not to take it personally when you went to the bathroom and the entire room cleared out. I walked quickly across the floor, but the room seemed to stretch on forever. Even the bartender was gone. I leaned

over the counter to see if anyone was hiding, thinking this is a sick prank, but no one was there. I turned and looked around the room again, but nothing had changed. It was dark and empty. The lights pointed at the prostrate form of the singer. I decided then and there that I was ghosting Taylor and deleting the dating apps from my phone. I was more put off by whatever was happening in that moment than I was afraid of being alone. Light from the parking lot illuminated the door, and I breathed the sigh of relief when I finally reached it. I tugged, but it didn't budge.

Stuck, locked, whatever. I couldn't get it. out. Hello? I called out over the sound of the humming coming through the speakers. Can someone let me out? Help. I'm locked in. I pulled and pushed on the door, but it didn't budge and no one answered. I pulled out my phone, but I had zero connection. The concrete pit outside was empty and dark, and the brewery was silent except for the huffing of equipment and the singer who was still humming on stage. Maybe the singer had a key or knew where an emergency exit was. I stomped back up to the stage until my feet hit a speaker at the base.

Hey? I yelled. When she didn't respond, I jumped up behind her and reached for her shoulder. She slumped forward. The mic dropped, letting out a crazy thud, and she toppled down beside it. Fuck! The humming didn't stop. If anything, it got louder. I rolled her onto her back. Her mouth was slack, open, and dripping. Her eyes were open and rolled back up into her head. So all I could see were the the whites. I put my hand over her mouth to feel for her breath, but her lips were cold and soaked

in metallic-scented liquid. The neon lights flashed blue and red. Blood, I thought, and wiped my hands on my pants like it burned me. Oh, God. Her tongue was missing. Where was everyone else? Had they seen whatever happened to her? Had they called for an ambulance or just run away? I pressed my fingers to her neck feeling for a pulse, but she was already beginning to cool. I pulled my phone out and dialed 911, but there was no reception inside. I think I screamed. I must have. My throat hurt. Suddenly the humming got louder, so violent that I thought it would make my ears bleed. What the hell happened while I was in the bathroom? And what did I do? She was dead. Everyone else was gone. I tried my phone again, but it was useless. I was sick. I was sick. I was sitting. I was sick. I was

sitting on the stage in a nest of wires beside a dead body and that humming was keeping me from thinking. I tore at the wires, unplugging amps, speakers, equipment until only one was left, leading from a speaker to the wall of barrels. The humming didn't stop. I don't think it ever will. I followed the cord to the wall. It was fed through the space between barrels on the rack. I peered between them, noting the glint of steel equipment under orange hazard lights. I swallowed back a groan. I wanted out of here, so I had to find either an emergency exit or someone who could let me out. I wanted the humming to stop. Maybe if I followed the cord, I would find help. The racks were stationary, but I found one with wheels on the bottom. I pushed as hard as I could

muster. Glad I opted for reasonable sneakers instead of the heels I'd almost worn on my date. The rack gave way just enough for me to squeeze through. Then I was in the industrial part of the brewery. It was hard to tell exactly how big it was. The room was lined by massive silver drums and other brewing equipment that I couldn't name. They made it hard to see. I followed the thick black cord through the brewery, weaving around the steel drums. I couldn't hear anything but that humming, even my own footsteps on the pavement were drowned out by it. I didn't remember any of my friends mentioning bodies on their first dates.

This was a fucking nightmare. And if I hadn't been so scared, I would have been angry. My heart was in my throat as I sucked in great gulping breaths of air. The cord wove through the brewery like a snake winding back and forth. Every corner I turned presented a fresh wave of disappointment. I wasn't sure who I was going to find at the end of it. But I hoped for a manager or an employee with a set of keys and the ability to call the police for that poor girl.

Finally, it led me to a set of metal stairs. They weren't tall, perhaps seven feet up, ending in a platform with more equipment peeking over the edge. I trailed it up the steps feeling them grown under me, even though I couldn't hear them. The air back here was especially fragrant, and every breath I took felt like I was drowning in yeast. I wanted nothing more than to get outside and breathe sweet, fresh air. No more dating apps, no more concerts, no more breweries. Once I hit the fifth step, I could see over the top of the platform.

A figure hunched over facing away from me. The cord wove between their legs resembling a rat tail spayed from their nude body. I bit back a scream. This wasn't a manager or security. They were a naked giant with lips curving down their back, each one moving independently of the others. The next wave of humming hit me like a tsunami, making all my bones vibrate.

There had to be another way out, right? A way that didn't involve disturbing whoever, whatever that was? I stepped backwards, holding my breath, keeping my eyes fixed on the shadowy figure. I could count the knobs of their spine, and the mouths peppered over their back like dog bites. Realization dawned on me, but what I was seeing was impossible.

Stupid. I was so stupid. I should have never gone on that date. I should have listened to my gut. I should have run when I found the singer's body. My foot tangled in the cord, and I tripped. I fell backwards, landing on my back on the concrete floor and knocking the wind out of me. The humming cut off abruptly, and I realized I had been singing along without realizing it.

I couldn't stop it from leaking out of me. The metal platform creaked, footsteps patted towards me in a vicious rush. The stars cleared from my eyes and I screamed. Bodies dangled from the bridge along the ceiling. I'd found the missing crowd. They hung limp as rags. Gravity pulled limbs and hair towards me, outstretched like they were reaching for me. My horror was interrupted when movement caught my eye,

and I blinked up into the face of the many-mouthed man. He stared down at me over the edge of the platform, a mere seven feet between us. His face was swollen and bulbous, lips pursed, smacking, grinning, and snarling down on me. His eyes were swollen with long lashes brushing lips above and below them. I wish I could say I did something brave, or smart, but my mind went blank. I couldn't think of anything but how fucking scary he was. He opened his mouths and screamed at me. It split my brain in two.

An axe would have been gentler. My ears were ringing when I scrambled up onto my hands and knees and fled. The world went silent. I ran, and I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. But I couldn't hear his breathing, or his footsteps, or anything. I drove into a narrow gap between the kegs and felt the vibrations as he crashed into them hot on my heels. I scrambled through the dark, narrow space between them and the wall like a mouse being chased by a cat, keeping my head low and my arms tight to my sides. I didn't know where I was going just that I needed to run.

Finally, I saw a door. It was perhaps 10 or 15 meters from the narrow path I'd sequestered myself in. I spared a glance behind me. He was gone. I sucked in a deep, yeasty breath and dashed for the door. The humming turned into a pig squeal, a long, high-pitched noise. I realized too late it was the sound of one of the tanks falling. heavy metal fell into my path and I pitched away from it. I caught the side of my foot. I felt the bones crack even though I couldn't hear anything but the humming. It kicked up a pace, so it was coming quicker and harder. I think the many-mouthed man was getting excited.

The door was blocked. My foot was beyond fucked up and pinned. I looked up. The many-mouthed man was standing behind where the tank had fallen from. Around him were shadows. The pain of my foot was making the world blurring. than it had been. I was on the verge of passing out. Everything started to slide away. It had a gnarly funhouse effect. The Titan's silhouette was outlined by hazy orange hazard lights on the far wall.

He smiled and stepped towards me. I was pinned by his gaze. One of the bodies slipped from the metal and fell to the concrete, splatting like a wet doll. They distracted him just for a second, so I could wrench my foot free. I crawled back into the safety between the walls and the vats and pushed myself up to my feet. His massive hand reached for me and gripped my arm hard enough to bruise. I leaned down and bit as hard as I could, drawing blood and gagging on the taste of him. The pain wouldn't be ignored. But I was able to push it aside and limp back the way I'd come. I couldn't escape this nightmare. But if I made it back to the bathroom, I could lock the door until help came. Help would come, wouldn't it? I didn't want to die there. The wall supported me for a few minutes,

but when I looked back, I realized something. The Titan wasn't gone. He hadn't given up. He was toppling the vats behind me. Steel crumpled under his grip and liquid slashed onto the floor in dense waves. I wasn't fast enough. He was going to remove my cover

before I made it to the racks of barrels. He was busy fussing with one, thrashing against it like a shark with a seal. The metal twisted, sparks flying before it fell. He strolled towards the next one, still humming, not bothering to look at me as he repeated the movement. He was strong. I choked back a sob.

I could see the spot where I'd slipped through the racks. I tested my foot. I was sure it was broken. But if I pushed through the pain and went fast enough, I could make it. I sprang from my hiding spot, eyes on the little gap to safety. If I had hoped he wouldn't notice me, I was an idiot. But again, a body slipped from above. It hit him square in the head.

The humming faltered. I dove through the crevice squeezing and landing in a pile on the other side while he howled and wiped his face. The body on the stage was still there, but I didn't bother with it this time. He was already sprinting behind me. His arm reached through the crack longer than an arm should be. His nails were long, curled and cracking. They'd just skimmed me. I slowed down. The pain was unbearable. But fear is a hell of a motivator. I limped to the bathroom. I limped to the bathroom, past all those stupid, scary bottles and locked the door behind me. I collapsed onto the toilet. My foot hurt worse once I was seated and looking at it.

It was swollen in purple and looked lopsided. In the moment, all I could think was that it was so mangled they'd have to cut it off. At least I'm alive. That's become my mantra. My shoe was squeezing it, holding it together. The swelling was pushing it up and out like some freaky marshmallow. I thought I was safe. Isn't that stupid? A little wooden door and some drywall between me and that monster, and I thought,

he can't get me in here. Of course, I couldn't hear anything but the humming by then, so I didn't hear his footsteps as he rounded the same corner I had, and if he knocked, I didn't hear that either. I watched the knob turn, left twice, then right three times, stopping from turning the full way by the little knob lock. I held my breath and dropped to the floor, staying low. He kept humming, stretching the sound out, no doubt trying to scare me more, and it worked. My nose started to burn and my eyes teared up. I thought of that girl on the stage in her missing tongue and the bodies falling from the ceiling like they wanted me to live and I didn't want to die, didn't want him to catch me. The concrete dug into my knees.

My foot throbbed painfully, my ears were dripping something hot and wet that was matting up my hair and running into the creases in my neck. I felt like he'd already taken my tongue, like I couldn't breathe, couldn't swallow. The inside of my mouth tasted like old vomit and beer. He ripped the door right off its hinges. Suddenly his grotesque silhouette blocked the frame. He leaned into the tiny room, all his mouths open, a dozen or more tongues wagging, spittle, flying. I forced myself to stand,

braced by the close walls of the bathroom and licked my chapped lips and hummed it back at him, mocking. I still don't know why I did it, but the tune made him freeze up. I thought of that singer, that she was the last one he killed. or maybe the first. But she'd started this,

and she was the only one not up in the rafters. I croaked it out on repeat. He stood there frozen, his eyes narrowed, and all those mouths all turned into angry snarls. I bent down and crawled between his legs without stopping. Once I reached the wall behind him, I pushed myself up and limped away,

casting furtive glances behind me. He followed behind me. I knew if I stopped, he'd pounce on me and I would be dead. If I stepped on my foot the wrong way and gasped, he would get me. If my dry throat caught, he would get me. If I messed up that melody, he would get me. I kept going, losing volume as I dragged myself back to the door. It was still locked, of course.

That's why I picked up that bar stolen throat through the glass. I had to stop singing to do it. Had to grit my teeth and really swing than drive through the opening. I think more bodies must have fallen or he would have caught me. I can't imagine what else would have slowed him down. Once I was outside in the pit, I looked back and he was just standing on the other side of the doorway glaring at me. He wouldn't reach through it. I didn't even realize I was still humming until I made it to the bus stop.

I still do it, just in case he followed me. And because it's all I can hear now, on repeat. It was the same driver as before who found me and called the ambulance and the police. I've never seen someone look that shocked, except that night when I looked in the mirror. after I made it into the bathroom. You don't believe me, do you? It doesn't matter. I know what happened to me.

What happened to all of them? The police say they didn't find any bodies, just the broken door. They think I took some sort of new drug, one that didn't show up in the talk screens they did on me. I didn't delete the apps. I want answers. So I've tried reaching out to Taylor, but they haven't answered.

I don't want to believe it's because they're dead, just like everyone else who was there that night. I'll never forget it. And I'll never stop humming. I don't want to die like that. My life may be worse now, but I'm happier just to be alive. And next,

a reluctant teenager on a family cruise discover something monstrous as climbing aboard from the ocean, forcing a fight for survival as the ship descends into chaos. From writer I.M. Otero and narrated by Jimmy Ferrer. Crippy Presents. Code Oscar. Samuel Johnson had it right about cruises.

I knew little about his other works, like the dictionary or whatever. But he hit the nail on the head when he said no man will be a sailor who has the contrivance enough to get himself into jail. For being in a ship as being in jail. With the chance of being drowned. I wasn't a Navy officer or whatever the hell he was, but I understood the feeling. Cruises were prisons with a chance of drowning. My mother and a new boyfriend forcibly brought me on to this cruise.

This is one of those big-ass ones. I could hold an entire town's worth of people. A damn roller coaster on it in like 15 pools. It was honestly absurd. I brought my Kindle and some video games because I would not participate in these nonsensical activities. If anything, I would get a tan and call it good. I'd check the weather and it was sunny the whole way. So at least there was that.

My mother's boyfriend, Tom, was trying so hard to get me to like him. It was actually annoying. He wasn't a bad guy. My mother had dated a lot worse. And I didn't want to scare him off, so I played nice. Even though he was about as interesting as a bread sandwich, beside a water pie. Still, he made my mother happy, paid her bills rather than empty her accounts. And he made her laugh, so I could put up with him being dull.

I mean, really, a cruise is the most generic type of vacation you could pick. so it made sense that he would choose it. We loaded up, and the size of the ship seemed impossible. I didn't understand how it could float, let alone how we could build something so massive. Then I wondered, why, if we could build something like this, we couldn't build something to help the unhoused. My hometown's population was under 5,000. and this thing at max capacity could hold about six. After we got to the room, I understood a little better.

It was small. Not closet small, but small enough that I got slightly claustrophobic. We unpacked and Tom was going to take my mom dancing. I lounged in the sun so I could read. After a couple of hours of reading, mapping, and doom-scrolling, I toured the ship. It was so massive. that it was easy to forget we were in the ocean. Children darted in the various playgrounds

while their parents got slashed. I wished I could as well. It would make this trips go so much faster if I were drunk. Being underage sucks. I leaned on the railing, looking out of the vastness of the ocean. It was believable that under there somewhere were hidden things.

Creatures that we have never seen, creatures that have never seen the sun. Creatures we could barely fathom. Things more alien than we've imagined coming from the stars. The water grew darker, as if a cloud had passed overhead. But it was clear. I watched the edges of the dark water grow, before it shrunk, disappearing into the depths.

Must have been a giant school of fish or something, I thought. There was nothing out there that big. Later, after stuffing myself full at the buffet, I leaned back on a pool lounger and looked out at the stars. The view was nearly as bad as in town. The lights from the cruise ship out shone most of them. But if I stared long enough, their pinpricks of light came through.

Stars were more comforting than the black ocean below. At least these were familiar. If I looked up at home, these same stars greeted me, where the ocean's depths were a mystery. And at night it lost its jewel-like luster and transformed into a stidgy an abyss. Screams cut through the night, and I didn't flinch. There were enough drunk people on this ship that there was an overblown emergency every ten minutes. Someone lost their phone or their shoe or purse. There was even a man who accused a waitress of stealing his wife's diamond earrings right from her earlobes.

Only it continued. I sat up looking around. But I was one of the few people up here. The others were asleep. Had headphones in or were too drunk to notice me. A scream came again. But this time I could tell I was on the deck below. I leaned over the railing.

looking down at the terrace in time to see someone go overboard. I gasped and frozen place. The woman who was screaming lay on the ground near the railing, with two men kneeling next to her. I found the stairs and ran over to find out what was going on. By that time, there was already a small crowd. The woman was bleeding from numerous minor cuts. She reeked like rotten fish.

The poor woman was inconsolable, screaming and pointing towards the edge of the ship, but they ignored her, trying to settle her down to look at her wounds. I walked to where she pointed, and damp footprints led to the railing. An oily substance gleamed in the light, and when I rubbed my finger over it,

It stank of fish. The dark waters below did not differ from the night sky above. Only shifting and swirling with God knows what. Except, I swear I saw shapes. Much like dolphins swimming alongside the boat, keeping pace until they vanished into the deep water. The next day a chaos of the screaming woman was gone. With thousands of people enjoying,

their drunken revelry. A single person in distress drowned in the confusion. Still, it unsettled me how I'm concerned everyone was. After asking my mother and her boyfriend if they had heard anything, they didn't know what I was talking about. I mean, of course the staff would cover it up, so everyone could still enjoy this cruise without the worry of someone attacking them. A chill snaked out my back.

remembering the shapes in the water. Maybe the attacker jumped overboard, thinking they could escape by jumping onto another deck. But I didn't think that was possible. I looked over the same railing as the night before. There was only one open deck below it. And this person would have had to jump and then grab onto another railing and pull themselves in.

I couldn't imagine someone doing that in broad daylight. let alone in the dark. My mother and her boyfriend were very nonchalant about it. He saw nothing to worry about, thinking that some woman just had too much to drink. For a bit, I thought that too, until it happened again. That evening, I was reading well into the night. Most folks had gone off to bed, but some still lingered.

snuggling up, watching the stars, or keeping their own personal parties going. It was after midnight that I heard the slap of something wet on the ground. The smell of rotten fish overwhelmed the brine of the ocean. I searched for its source. The sound continued, like someone walking with wet socks on the floor. Then I heard another slap and some more footsteps. I thought that maybe. Maybe some kids were wandering around after some night swimming.

But that smell couldn't be them. A scream cut through the night, and I ran towards it. The walkway was wet and slick, and as I ran, people opened their doors to see what the commotion was about. I darted past them. At the end of the walkway, where it opened up into the deck, a dark shape flung itself off the side of the boat. carrying a crying woman. Two more dove off. Each carrying a screaming,

terrified person. Only silence followed after they hit the water. And something walked around the corner, fully revealing itself to me. And I tried to stop, but I slipped on the damp floor and fell hard to the ground. Thing that looked like it was born from a torrid relationship between a man and a fish.

It turned away from me and dove into the ocean. A woman, barely older than me, helped pull me to my feet. I looked at her and asked if she saw it too. With a grim expression on her face, she nodded. We called for help, yelling that we had people overboard. Thankfully, they acted swiftly, calling a coach. Oscar, which I guess is maritime code for the incident. We were ushered back to our rooms after they asked us when and where the people had gone.

The other girl spoke over me, saying that they fell off. And when I asked her afterwards what the hell that was about, she told me they wouldn't believe us. She was right. They could hopefully figure out something was attacking us when they went to search for those people. The crew would believe their search and rescue team over us any day. I fell asleep after my adrenaline crashed from the incident. And when I woke up in the morning, I asked around and only a few people knew.

And they had said no one had been recovered. As the day went on, I learned it was true. The Coast Guard cruises crew could not find them, even though they had acted relatively quickly. I saw the girl from the night before and found her at the lunch buffet. I asked her about what she had seen. She corroborated my story. She said this isn't the first time she'd seen them either. They had been climbing aboard the ship since the second day.

But only the last couple of nights had they been violent. She told the staff what they saw, but they laughed her off. Things continued as usual, but with the same time, staff reiterating that folks should be safe and stay away from the ledges when inebriated. But otherwise, nothing changed. It was surreal. But with distractions, the human mind could ignore just about anything. If everyone else were fine, then even a tragedy that happened just a hundred feet away was relegated to the mundane.

The other girl who witnessed the fish creature was named Ashley. and we became fast friends, bonded by the trauma of what we had seen. We made plans to patrol the ship at night and try to scare away any of the creatures that tried to come on board, or a call for staff when they showed up. Unfortunately, we didn't have any weapons of any kind, but actually thought we might get a broom

or a mop handle from the janitors and just used them as clubs. It didn't look too threatening. but we both found some fiberglass mops that we walked away with. Ashley said to walk with purpose. And because we had a mob, no one would ask us for anything. We were on a mission. She was completely right.

As long as we looked like we were on the way to clean up a spill, no one bothered us. It was really quite amazing how well it worked. At first night, nothing happened. We walked across the decks carrying our dry, mop's as the most unlikely sentinels. Eventually, we ended up walking together, chatting about our lives. Ashley was here because she had one tickets at her job.

And even though she didn't want to, her friends made her come to enjoy herself. I learned about her dating life, her coworkers, her dog. We slept half the next day away. And the following day after seeing nothing. The third night, though. As we walked towards the deck of the front of the boat, I heard the slap of something coming over the rally. And then another, and another.

Then, right next to us, a web- clawed hand reached up, grabbing onto the railing, pulling up a strangely humanoid creature covered in the scales of a fish. Ashley jabbed it in the face hard with a mop handle. and it fell back into the ocean. I froze. The realization of what was actually happening, catching up with me.

I didn't understand why until that moment it had seemed real. People were missing. The creature walked by us, and yet it was distant and intangible, as if the events were happening in a dream. Then everything turned technicolor, and in startling clarity, it all hit me. Ashley shouted at me as she swung the mop, striking another creature. But this one didn't fall immediately. It pulled itself up further.

Its aberrant features illuminated by decklights. I jumped into action once it caught Ashley's mop and its clawed, webbed hand. She shrieked as it reached towards her. Tossing the mop handle aside. I turned mine around and jab the monstrosity in the eye. Despite the handle's tip being rounded and smooth, the force punctured its eye. The orange fiberglass penetrating several inches before striking bone.

It fell from the deck to the void below, welcoming it back. Ashley scrambled to her feet as more kept coming, and we screamed for help. Other voices shouted in terror in the distance as more and more of these things came aboard. We jabbed and swatted at anything that tried to climb up. By the fourth one, I knew we would not keep this up. They were all over the ship and fighting back with a feral strength. I ran along the deck, searching for a hallway to get away from the edge,

and Ashley followed. The frantic screams mingled with the shouts of the crew. Filling them with so much noise I couldn't think. A voice came over the PA, announcing a lockdown, and we didn't know where to go. The things were coming inside the ship now. In every hallway that led to the decks had several of the creatures fumbling around inside. We ducked into a bathroom and slammed.

the door shut. Space was tight, but it gave us some time to think. Ashley was in a panic, and I would have been too if I wasn't trying to calm her down. Then, a noise caused me to cover her mouth with my hand. Something was walking down the hallway, with wet sloshing footsteps that clanked from the claws on its feet. My hand shook, and Ashley's eyes were wide as the thing came close, and then with an eruption of sound, it broke into the neighboring door. The crash was so loud and sudden that we both almost shrieked in surprise, but we kept it together. But those in that room weren't that lucky.

The person screamed and threw things as the creature. The creature entered. If I didn't last long, after some slams and cursing, the room fell silent. We let out shuddering breaths and waited. No sound came from the hallway, and I cracked the door open. There were only bloody footprints going deeper into the ship. Ashley brought up getting to a lifeboat. But before she finished that thought, she went.

silent. I needed to find my mother. That was first before we came up with any other plans. We had to go lower. And since these things were coming from outside, I assumed it would be safer. We reluctantly moved into the hallway, following the bloody webbed footprints deeper into the ship. When the footprints went right at a hallway, we went left towards the stairs. There were were shouts and screams in the distance. The PA system told people to remain in their cabins and do not open them for anyone. Yeah, everyone this deep in the ship was standing in their doorways, asking what was going on? Ashley yelled pirates and threw bystanders into panic.

They locked their doors and droves as we ran down the hallway. Far more believable than fish monsters. And this got the trick done. My heart was in my throat And my vision narrowed as the reality of what was happening Further settled in My breasts came in shallow, panic gulps And I fell to my knees

The adrenaline finally giving away to fear And sheer panic Ashley kneeled in front of me and helped me up She held my face and told me we got this We're saving people. But we needed to get to my mother to make sure she was safe. She told me to take some slow breaths. And after my heart rate settled, we moved. We turned a corner and headed to our rooms. The door was open and Tom was standing there, half asleep looking around. He recognized me and

asked what was going on. I told him pirates. And he looked at me like I was crazy. He looked at me like I was crazy. I asked him where my mother was. And he said she had gone for a walk a little while ago. I said we would look for her, and he insisted on coming too. Others shouted from the decks, and we headed that way. My heart thundered. My hand shook as we came out into the open area. The creatures were still climbing, and others had taken hold of people, and were dragging them off decks and into the water. Some looked like humans covered in scales. Others almost looked like sharks. And some had the tentacles of an octopus or a squid. Then a scream cut through the paralysis. And we turned toward the source. My mother had an umbrella, was holding it up against one of

the shark-like creatures. Tom ran towards her, but he never made it. A tentacle of a squid-like thing snatched his ankle, and he fell, hitting his head on the ground, going limp. The thing dragged him off the side of the ship. My mother screamed again as Tom sank into the dark, and the creature in front of her lunged. Its jaw snapped around her arm, and this time it was I who was screaming. I ran towards her. my mop handle in hand. But Ashley grabbed me, holding me back.

She turned me around, holding my head against her chest. She said we needed to go and pushed me back into the hallway. I screamed, but she covered my mouth and kept me moving. It was better that way. There was nothing I could have done. And I guess I was glad I didn't have to see her die. I didn't remember getting to the stairs, but Ashley was pushing me down them. I drifted, floating the rest of the time until we get to the kitchen.

She grabbed some knives, a couple of coats hung near the coolers. She pushed me into the cooler and then closed the door behind us. My breath missed it in front of me as she placed the broom handle through the handle of the freezer, preventing it from being open from the outside. She said we should be good here. And as my heart slowed and my mind caught up to our actions, I looked around the steel room. On the racks were loaves of bread, cheese, and milk. She shrugged and asked if I was lactose intolerant.

Hours went by. And we stared in the small window of the cooler, hoping, praying that a cook would knock on the door concerned as to why he could. couldn't get in. That didn't happen. We ate some bread and butter, which we warmed in our hands as it became apparent nobody was coming. I tried using my phone. The Wi-Fi was weak and I couldn't get a call through. I pinged my location and sent text to everyone in my contacts with the info, telling them to send

help. I didn't bother with the responses. wanting to waste battery with extra typing. Since my phone was at 20%, and Ashley's had died during her barrage's text messages. So I turned mine off to reserve the battery light. The cold was biting my nose, toes, and fingers as we waited. We curled up under the coats together to stay warm. If we had hidden in the freezer, I wasn't sure if we would have made it. but the cooler's temperature was about 35 degrees, which was terribly cold, but still bearable. Slamming became audible in the kitchen.

Utensals clattered to the floor in a cacophony of noise. The other cooler doors swung open, and I knew they would make it to ours in a matter of moments. I scurried away from Ashley and hid myself behind some boxes in the corner. and Ashley stood next to the door with a knife. I watched as she waited next to the door, poised to strike. When the thing pulled on the handle of our door, it didn't budge. The creature became enraged and slammed against the door. The glass cracked in the window.

In a blur of motion, Ashley swung it open and thrust the knife into the creature. It howled, backing away from the opening. She followed it out with the knife raised. A knife hit flesh again before the door shut, muffling the fight outside. My hands trembled. And the knife I held reflected a terrified person. I didn't recognize at first.

But behind those tears, sunken tired eyes. I saw myself. The kitchen crashed and clasped. It was uttered outside the door, barely audible. There were some shouts in another howl, and then silence. I waited, expecting Ashley to come through that door. Victorious and bloodied, only she never came. I waited.

Holding the trembling knife up in front of me, for what felt like an eternity, blood leaked under the door. Exhaustion was a let blanket. And my blinks grew longer until the knife fell from my hand. Clatter of metal woke me up. How long was I out? I checked my phone. And it was late morning.

And I thought about Ashley. She could be out there bleeding and needing help. But what help could I offer? She was probably dead. Like everyone else. Was I the only survivor? Was Ashley out there? searching for more people, knowing I was safely hidden.

My mind real, my heart thrashed against my rib cage. Panic rose like a boiling water in my eye stood. Suddenly overwhelmed with claustrophobia and pushed the door open. It struck something, and I had to put all my weight against it to fit through. The air reeked of blood and fish. There was nothing in the kitchen. metal table had fallen in front of the cooler door and the floor was slick with gore

my shoes squeaked on the tiles as I surveyed the kitchen Ashley was nowhere to be found and in a surreal days as if being pushed by a breeze I walked out of the kitchen and down the hallway doors were smashed blood leaked into the hallway and there wasn't a single sound. No screams.

No roars of strange monsters. Only the gentle hum of the air conditioning. I glanced into the rooms as I walked by them and regretted each time. The carnage left behind was like nothing I could ever imagine. Only there were no bodies. There were gallons of blood. and viscera covered furniture and walls like some kind of macabre decoration. As I came onto the deck, I heard the familiar wet steps that sent my heart into a flurry and a distant splash.

I ran to the railing. The water was nearly black despite the sun. But while I watched, the darkness of the water faded into a room. a radiant blue. Something sank into the deaths and on the horizon. A red and white ship themed in the sun. And finally, a stranded driver following a disturbing trail of dead humming birds into the New Mexico desert, discovers something there that leaves him questioning what he experienced. From writer Nicholas Coffee, creepy presents, the hum. This perhaps is one of the most interesting things to ever happen to me in my 36 years

in this realm. I have, perhaps, encountered a Sasquatch or a freaky bear or perhaps had an experience with extraterrestrials, and I've definitely met some very strange, creepy people in Northern California. This experience, however, is just an experience I have no idea how to explain, nor do I know what to think, nor do I ever want to think about it, ever, ever, ever. Ever again. However, I feel as if I have to get this one off my chest because it is weird, and oftentimes I have very strange dreams that are involved around it. And it makes me believe, subconsciously, I suppose, that I've never dealt with the possible trauma from what had happened. I was born and raised in New Mexico and ended up moving to California with my father throughout the rest of my life.

except for some stints here and there due to jobs and whatnot. Normally, I avoid New Mexico like the plague. It's a haunted, god-forsaken rattlesnake-infested hellhole. My mother and my sister, however, just refused to leave the desolate wasteland. And so oftentimes I have to go down there and visit, especially when my mother got cancer. She's fine now, though. She had a tumor on her parathyroid, and it was removed, thankfully.

So, backstory over, onward with the actuality of what it happened. I was driving my piece of crap haunted down the highway when it just ran out of gas. I found that odd because when I'd started the car, I initially still had a quarter of a tank. But such is, I guess. It just sort of sputtered out in the middle of the highway, on the end of the road of the reservation. I knew that there was a gas station about a mile away once I managed to get out onto the highway.

So I took my empty gas canister out of my trunk and walked out in the heat. I had a backpack of Gatorade's and water bottles to avoid heat stroke. I was aware I could lose quite a bit of electrolytes very quickly. On the road I walked down, it was very complicated to call my sister Kelly to let her know where I was and what the situation was.

because there just didn't seem to be a signal anywhere. I walked and I walked sticking my thumb out to no avail, for there were no reservation police or other passer-by trucks. It seemed as if I was all alone out in the brightness, heated, sunny day out in the middle of frickin' nowhere New Mexico. As I walked and I walked, I saw a dead hummingbird on the ground. I found that very sad at first.

Yet as I walked further and further, I found it odd that there was even a hummingbird there in the first place. They aren't typically seen in the area from where I come from. They're not non-existent, but they're just super duper rare to see. There's not a bunch of what I would consider to be the sort of nectar they seek, nor pollen from flowers that they desire. so I continued down the open road with the sun beating down upon me. Soon after that, I saw another dead hummingbird. Now I thought this is getting weird. Weirder and weirder, perhaps.

I suppose deep down I sort of subconsciously preferred to consider just a coincidence. It was only after a few hundred yards more that I saw another one. and shortly after another one and another and then another and then more and then even more it came to a point where the constant dead hummingbirds started to trail away from the side of the road and then make a trail off away and into the berm this may have been a bad idea on my part but my weakness has always been that my curiosity is preferred to get the better of me which is what killed the cat. So I followed the trail of dead hummingbirds.

It was almost like a Hansel and Gretel breadcomb trail. It seemed as if it was some sort of methodically laid out plan of follow the dead hummingbirds, if you dare. It went on and on until I'd pass the berm and completely away from the road and now out into the arroyo and deep down amidst a few sparse trees to and fro.

And that was when I found it. It was something I'm not sure I could even describe. It was just like this strange pile of dead hummingbirds. Like, it was freaking huge. Maybe about two feet from the ground. a huge, massive, disturbing pile of them. I sort of stood there, rather perplexed, and I scanned all around the place to see if there was some sort of indication as to what had transpired.

Yet there was not a, nothing, zilch. It seemed as if there was just an inexplicable pile of dead hummingbirds out in the middle of the desert. That's when the real weirdness happened. There was this very strange, shaky, quivering sort of hum that was more than just audible. No, this was also physical. I can't say that the ground was shaking. I'd rather say it seemed as if my head did. I began to feel a bit nauseous and the first thing I thought to myself was,

get up on out of here. And like a coward, I did. I ran and I ran. and the worst decision I didn't even realize that I had made is I just started running randomly without any adherence to where I originally came from. Basically, I was just running in a direction without any regard. Took me a solid 30 to 45 minutes running throughout the Oroyo to find the road again. Some native was driving down the road when I stumbled out from the side of the road and he picked

me up and gave me a ride to the casino that had a gas station. When I felled up, he offered to give me right back to the car. He could tell I was shaken up, and I could sort of sense he didn't want to broach the subject, but sort of felt as if he should. So he asked me if I was all right. I didn't want to go into it too much, but I sort of explained a few of the details, but only a few, for fear of sounding like an absolute whack job. After what I told him, his silence is what unnerved me the most.

He either thought I was nuts or straight up didn't want to talk about it. Eventually, that hum, he said. Yeah, it makes me sick too. I filled up my tank. I went to work. I apologized for being late and I explained what had happened. Nobody at my job site wanted to speak of it. Fast forward about a week and a half or so, perhaps too.

My sister woke me up asking if I could. sweep the front walkway because she was too grossed out. I didn't know what to infer. In hindsight, I suppose I wish she had told me it was just ridden with dead lizards, just lying on their backs. Blueish gross veins exposed upon their bellies, ants upon ants just completely devouring them. It was, at best, disturbing.

So I got the push broom and I pushed them off the walkway. and then that's when the hum began again. I just sort of fell to my knees and I couldn't stop feeling nauseous and began vomiting a bit. My sister and I have always kept this from my mom because I don't know how she'd react. I don't know what happens out there in that strange part in New Mexico. But I will say this. If you ever stumble across tiny dead animals, like a pile of them, just out in the middle of the desert, just leave it be

and if you hear the hum never ever return for more information on this podcast 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 done so through Creative Commons Sherrillite licensing or with written consent from the authors. No portion of this podcast may be rebroadcast or otherwise distributed without the express written consent of the creepy podcast production team and the story's author.