Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S1 Ep51: Episode 51: The Horrors Come out at Night

Episode Date: October 14, 2021

Today’s terrifying opening tale is ''My Father Always Insisted I Get Home Before the Street Lights Come On'', an original work by Mia Marvelous, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all. https://www.reddit.com/user/MIA-MARVELOUS/ Our second wonderful offering is ''I Work the Nightshift: This Is How I Kill Time’, another original story, this one by Crone Johnson, again kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all. https://www.reddit.com/user/Crone_Johnson/ Today’s phenomenal penultimate story is ‘Night of the Creeps’, an original work by Taxi Dancer, once again kindly shared with me via my subreddit for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all. https://www.reddit.com/user/Taxi_Dancer/ We round off tonight with ‘Why I no Longer Cycle at Night’, an original work by Bizarre Ghost, also kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all. https://www.reddit.com/user/BizarreGhost/

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We believe OCT scans are so important they're included with every standard eye exam. Book an eye exam at Spexsavers.cavers.ca.ca. Eye exams are provided by independent optometrists. Visit Spexsavers.cavers.ca to learn more. Welcome to Dr. Creepen's dungeon. Well, they say that sometimes the things in our heads are far worse than anything they could put in a book or a film. That's especially true at night. Four tales of terror for you this evening.

Later on we have I worked the night shift, and this is how I kill time, by Cron Johnson. Follow by A Night of the Creeps by Taxi Dancer. We round off tonight's entertainment with. why I no longer cycle at night by bizarre ghost. And our opening story is, My father always insisted I get home before the streetlights come on by mere marvelous. Now, as ever before we begin, a word of caution.

Tonight's stories may contain strong language, as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. If that sounds like your kind of thing, then let's begin. I needed to get my ass in gear and leave my butt. Troy's house or something terrible was going to happen. I could feel it in my gut the way you know a storm is on its way by the electric charge in the air. It had been a hot, sticky mess of a day, nearly 90 with 80% humidity. We spent the day swimming, listening to music and sneaking a few beers poolside while his parents were in upstate New York for a wedding.

My dad was a bit strict and didn't like me to be out past dark. I'm sure you've heard it before from your parents. Be home by the time the streetlights come on. The thing about my dad though, he was psychotic about it. He never let me go to sleep over as a kid. Kept me from staying out past dark, so that meant no parties. My mum said it was because Dad suffered from a severe case of anxiety. I didn't make the way he treated me okay,

or how he kept my door to my bedroom locked at night so I couldn't leave. We even had bars on our windows and a high-tech security system to help him with his craziness. Every night was the same. They'd let me hang out. I went to school, came home, did my homework. A warm glass of milk, and I went to bed. Were never any exceptions.

My father always insisted I drink my milk. I knew by the side of the first firefly, and the way the sky dimmed gently from blue to a hue just a tiny bit darker, that my dad will be watching and waiting in his recliner that faced the front door. If I was even a minute late, he'd be in his old pickup truck racing down Rancino Road, headlights beaming, looking for me, his only son. Sadly, my mum had had had two miscarriages before she got pregnant with me. I was the only one that survived. A lounge round Troy's pool a bit longer, cracked open another one of Troy's dad's IPAs.

I sighed, breathing in the night air, and when I finished chugging the beer, I managed to get myself out of the pool and stumbled over to dry myself off. You going? Trey asked as he glided into the shallow end of the pool. Yeah, I think I better. You sure? Jenny and Meyer are coming over in a bit. I know Maya digs you and that stupid long hair. I smiled, tossing it back and forth to be funny.

But as much as I wanted to stay, I knew my dad would be in his truck looking for me. Yeah, well, you know, my dad. Yeah, I know he's strict, but come on, it's our last summer before graduation. Fine, be boring, Troy said, taking a deep breath before going under the water. I dressed and put my shoes on as I ran down Troy's long driveway.

I hurried along down the sidewalk, wishing I'd ridden my bike to Troy's to give me a better chance of getting home, curfew. Instead, I jogged up the sidewalk towards the corner of the next street. It seemed like the sky had darkened in a matter of minutes. I ran further, and then I felt it. My face hit the sidewalk, and in my ankle, a sharp pain began to appear. God damn uneven pavement. I was already late, now I'd be even later. Cringed when I looked up. The streetlights had just come on. I had already here the truck pulling out of the driveway in my mind's eye.

I knew my dad was coming for me, and I knew he would be furious. I'd only missed curfew one time before, well, the outcome was one I would rather forget. I could almost feel his anger, and I hadn't even done anything wrong. Well, the beer was most likely why I'd tripped and fallen. I always had a way of sneaking up on you. I managed to stand up and prop myself up against one of the small truce. that lined the sidewalk, perfectly perched in front of each house that lined it in a rug.

The street was empty, it was so quiet I could hear my heart beating in my ears. The light of the moon was now high in the sky, giving the whole eerie feeling I was getting that extra oomph. I heard something behind me that gave me pause. I could hear a rustling in the bushes near me, and then two red eyes appeared. I managed to move my leg along as fast as I could to get out of there. For once, I wanted my father's truck to appear. A shadow leaped out from the bushes. And I saw something I can't quite explain.

When I blinked, it was there. When I blinked again, it was only a dark swirl of black mist. A large creature with a head of a wolf had appeared. Its legs, which I managed to get a good look at, were pointed backwards. It had dark grey black fur and large teeth And the teeth appeared from a Cheshire cat-like smile And as my heart was pounding out of my chest I heard the screeching of tires

My father pulled up alongside me As I tore my eyes from the creature to another scary monster Namely my dad I look back and it was gone Must have had too many beers But only looking at my father made me feel slightly relieved that I wasn't going crazy. You're late, he snarled.

I fell. I think I hurt myself. Oh, you could have called, he said, pulling away after I got inside the truck. Yeah, I'm sorry. Not good enough. When we pulled into our driveway, my mother was waiting. She was nervous, like something was wrong. Thank God you found him. My mother smiled at me and then looked at my father. his angry face.

Get to your room. I walked inside my house and went to my room. I heard the doors latch from the other side. There were three locks. One at the top, one in the middle, one at the bottom, all made of steel.

Now I could hear the market. Look, I didn't give him his. All right, Joyce. Greg, he needs to drink it, or you may have to inject it, my mother was saying I wondered what that even meant do it now

she was saying to my father I heard the rustling of the locks and as my father was doing so I felt a sharp pain in my sides I bent over as the pain seemed to worsen the door was flung open and the look on my father's face was one of pure fear I

I need to inject you with something what I yell. Dad, I think I need to go to the hospital. Oh, son, you just need to relax. This will be over soon. I felt angry and the desire to hurt him was strong. He came at me with a needle with shaking hands. I pushed him away because I was now growing frightened of my father. Then I made the great mistake of looking in the mirror that hung over my dresser. My eyes had changed color. I were now a surreal color of yellow and gold. I felt my body come out of my skin. I tried to protect you from this curse. I don't understand. I held onto my throat with trembling

hands for fear of myself, and my voice was now a deep ground. Son, when you were a baby, you were born different. You were just like your brothers before you. You have that curse that skips every other generation. The doctor said if we can put you to sleep then you weren't turn into a monster. Come on son, let me help you. And that was the last thing I remembered. I woke up naked, blood all around me on a floating device in Troy's pool. Well, I had no recollection of how I got there. I only knew I'd turned into something gross and dangerous. I grabbed a towel, wrapping it around, my body and looked around. I didn't see them, but I could see dead bodies next to the pool.

I must have done this horrible thing. I wasted no time in racing home. When I got home, there was a note from my father on the front door. Son, never come looking for us. You want to keep others safe? There's anesthesia locked in the top cupboard in the kitchen just above the stove. The measurements you need are listed on the side of the bottle. We try so hard to keep you safe from ever knowing about this curse.

If you ever need anything, you can call the doctor. There's a number on the bottle of medication. He specializes in cryptid medicine. Love, dad and mom. Well, that night I locked myself in my house, inside my room, and held out the needle. I heard something strange from outside, though. It caused me to stop before I injected myself. When I looked outside my window,

three creatures were looking up at me from outside. I slowly put the needle down. Unlock the door to my house and joined them. Hey Ontario, come on down to BedMGM Casino and check out our newest exclusive. The Price is Right Fortune Pick. Don't miss out. Play exciting casino games based on the iconic game show.

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I lean back on my chair and sighed. Even though I woke up an hour ago, the mere thought of boredom that awaited me this night made me sleepy. I had two jobs. one in the end of the day, the other in the beginning of the night, with a two-hour sleep break in between. The night shift one, which had just started, consisted of me, sitting in a small booth and guarding this huge warehouse.

By guarding, I mean stopping stupid little kids from sneaking in. For such a huge place, the owner didn't store anything of value. I never complained. Serious criminals didn't waste their time here, making my job easy. My tiny booth was situated at the warehouse entrance. Each night was the same. I killed time with music, phone games, singing to myself, playing with dominoes on my small desk, and finally, after an hour and a half, listening to my favourite radio show.

I increased the volume on my phone, slid it on the desk, and threw my hands behind my head. The quick, catchy intro passed, and Mark, the show host. spoke out with his calm, soothing voice. The clock hit the 1-200-it-it's midnight and we alive. Shout out to the night shift. Everyone with insomnia, the night hours, to all of you underage folk who should be in bed, even though you'll be getting up at 6 a.m. for school.

You know how it is? I love stories, and each night we have a topic. Yesterday's sexual experiences, which put me in the hospital attracted a lot of callers. Hopefully, tonight's topic will too. We'll be telling each other scary stories. Anything from the monster under your bed

to the creep stalking you at work. Hmm, look at that. Seven callers already. As we're doing horror tonight, I'm picking you caller number six, because six is my unlucky number. A quick beep signalled someone was on the line. Hey Mark, long-time listener, first-time caller.

A man cheerfully yelled. Much appreciation for the long-time fans, just tone it down a bit. Right, Mark, my bad. Your name and the story you'll be sharing. Right, so I'm Roger. You can call me Roger because we're friends. Right, I work from home and going out is not something I like. All of my food.

is brought to my door and all my bills are paid online. But don't think of me as some fat lazy bastard. Oh, never thought you were. Mark replied in a friendly tone. Right, so one evening I get hungry and order pizza. Talk to some guy on the phone. Tells me it'll be delivered in five minutes. Ten minutes pass.

I wait some more and finally decide to call again. I'm more like, hey, order my pizza 15 minutes ago. right and the guy says you never called us then I'm like yes I did here's what he tells me the guy who answers their phone had been in the toilet for over 20 minutes can you believe that then the guy apologizes and takes my order the moment I put my phone down someone knocks I'm like damn that's fast and this guy deserves a tip so I open the door and see the pizza box on the floor, but no delivery guy. I'm thinking it's a free pizza to compensate for the long wait,

and bring it to the table, and the thing was stone cold. I yell and throw it to the ground. Someone knocks on the door again. I open it and see a pizza delivery guy with a second pizza, but this time warm, and he wanted money for it. So, a mysterious ghost delivery guy brought you. pizza? Weren't you listening?

The scary part was the cold pizza. Isn't the part where... Mark paused. Oh yes. Cold pizza. Yeah, it really sucked. Mark cut the line mid-sentence. What a nightmare.

Cold pizza. Next caller. Let's see. Number... Number... Number 16, you're on the line. Yo, Mark, what's good? A low-pitched male voice greeted him.

I'm doing very well. Name and story. I'm Gerald. Security of the mall. This is a true story that happened to my sister's cousin. Me and the listeners are all ears. We'll name a cousin Ben. Not to give any personal info, you know.

Ben is this really big guy, plays football and wrestles as a hobby. He's playing football, last seconds of the game. It's up to him to win. This giant Hulk-like creature flies out from behind the bleachers, distracts him, makes him miss. Everyone beats his ass after the game. Nobody saw the Giant Hulk thing, and they don't believe him. Maybe a sister's cousin lied,

made it up to avoid admitting he was the reason they lost. Ah, you're like them. Just because it sounds crazy, doesn't mean it's impossible. A beep followed, signaling the caller had hung up. Well, that was enlightening. Next caller, number one. Muffled laughter became audible. Caller number one, you are on.

Mark repeated. The laughing didn't stop. Caller number one, do you have a scary story? for us. My grades. A group of kids on the other side burst into laughter. Mark cut the line. Next caller.

Time to pick. Number eight. Good evening, Mark. A young girl greeted him. And good evening back to you. Why are you up so late? You have school in the morning. Sleep over.

My first one. A big congratulations from me and everyone listening My name is Nina and I'm 13 First sleeper over at 13 My mom is stuck up She finally let me use the internet for something aside schoolwork Oh You shouldn't talk about your mother that way

She probably has her reasons But back to the topic Do you have a story for us Oh, I sure do This happened to me when when I was younger. My parents were out, and my babysitter, who used to be this super nice person,

came over to make sure I didn't get in trouble. She was telling me stories when the lights went out. There was this constant feeling of dread, so we went over to a neighbor. The lights eventually came back on, we played ballgames and watched TV. Oh, how cute! Was the power outage what scared you?

No, my babysitter. when the lights turned on she was different I could have sworn her eyes turned pitch black at moments and her skin was ice cold at the end of the night we went back to my place she tucked me in

said she'd check on the neighbor there was this look in her eyes like a cat watching a mouse it scared me when she left the room I felt much safer but I heard sounds from my neighbor muffled yells

nobody believe me he lived alone so it took more than a week for people to realize something was going on they found him in pieces stuffed in the refrigerator chew marks all across his body and pieces of him missing

now they believe me and they look for the babysitter but she disappeared nowhere to be found oh sounds really scary Mark said in a half serious voice Gerald, I believe you about the giant hawk creature.

Thanks for calling, Nina. I think it's time for you to go to bed. Next caller. Number 20. Yo, Mark, it's Fred. Oh, hello, Fred. This is the fifth time you're calling. Dude, that's so rad you remember.

Now, what do you have for us? Well, my job is to teach dudes and dude-euf. how to ride the wave. It surfs up, you know. I have a rule not to rock at night, but this dudeette was offering serious mullah, and she was seriously gorgeous. Now, before you continue, were you high? Dude, I'm a professional. You know, I don't get high when I rock. You said you were high in last night's story, but go on. Okay, this is what happens, my dude. Only light is from the full moon. The rich Dudette is super confident. Complete, I don't give a shit, I might drown level of confident. We're in the water when the waves start up. One of the waves

knocks her off and I, all Aquaman style, jump in after her. The water is really dark, and I can hardly see. But I find her hand and eventually make my way down to her. Got my arm around the dudette. Felt her hands touch mine, and I swam up. But she stops me. Dude, it's hard to be a rock under water. Now, she's holding me, and she's pulling me even deeper. I mean, I shits you not. Somehow I could see her entire body as if it emitted light.

She was even more beautiful than before, and her legs morphed into a scaly fish tail. It felt magical. Ah, lack of oxygen and drugs also makes you. feel magical. This was different, my dude. She kissed me. Dude, no trip, no high, no anything compared to that. Next level, ecstasy. Why it felt long, it short at the same time. Hard to explain. I woke up on the beach in the morning. She put me under an umbrella and left me a green apple and a bottle of water. And where was the horror in your story? Where was the horror? Dude, the heart. The heart

is, I can't find her. I searched high and low. It was like, here's what heaven's like. Now, screw you. Oh, and I didn't get paid. But you can brag a mermaid kissed you. You've got that. Yeah, I guess, dude. Gonna get high and listen to the rest of your show now. I know you will. Mark let out a friendly chuckle. Next caller. Number three, do you think you can top a mermaid encounter? Oh, I sure can, dear, the female voice answered. Sophia, college student and adrenaline junkie. Oh, are those two the same? Mark joked. They sure are. This is an experience I had with my ex. I'll call him jerk.

I'm really into urban exploring. I finally got his bitch ass to come with me. We had a car parked in front of this abandoned asylum, which I was. name. It's night time. The full moon is up, the mood is on, and we enter. I walked like a boss, well, jerk shivered behind me. Taking pictures here and there, I explored the rooms, decided to check the basement. Here's the thing. A lot of urban explorers come to this place. There are videos, forum discussions, maps. I know the stairs go down to the basement, but now I see an open hatch of the bottom. It appeared to have been hidden by some rubble, which was moved aside. Jurg is too scared,

waits in the basement while I climbed down. The place looks entirely different. It was a well-kept, clean corridor with a few steel doors, one of which I opened. Light came out, and I heard voices. This crazy scientist-looking mother, with blood-covered clothes, strolled out and entered the neighboring door. I thank my lucky stars he didn't look in my direction I finally sneaked in the room he'd exited and see this poor skinny guy strapped on a steel table bloody tools to his side

some medical tubes sticking in his arm creepy altogether I hate suffering so I instinctively help get him off the table and rip the thing out of his arm he's mumbling something I couldn't understand back then Later I learned that he was urging me to leave. I was helping him hobble towards the hatch when I heard the crazy scientist ordering me to stop. I froze and looked back, only to see him pointing a gun of me.

He looked pissed, really pissed. He glanced at his watch, locked eyes of me, and to my surprise, told me he was sorry. The wacko walked in the room, shut the big steel door, and locked it from the inside. So I continue helping the skinny guy. He doesn't weigh a lot, so I throw him over my shoulder and climb up. Jerk is all freaked out. I quickly explain and tell him to help.

One of us on each side, we carry him out to the car. He was finally able to stand up on his own. That's when shit hit the fan. He pushed me and jerk back and ordered us to run. Jerk began asking questions, but the skinny guy widened his eyes. I'll never forget that look of pure, fear and terror. His eyelids looked like they were trying to close, but couldn't.

This whole body looked like he wanted to run, but just shook. The guy did this weird rapid twitching motion with his lips and fingers. He let out a shout. I can't call it a shout. A shriek, a yell. I don't know. It sounded like he begged a horrible pain to stop. It was so loud

His fingers stretched And bony yellow nails Ripped through their tips All of his limbs elongated And his skin began to tear Revealing patches of fur Now Me and Jirk finally stopped watching

The horror show and ran to the car But the keys weren't in my pocket They must have fallen somewhere on the way While we were hobbling with the man Jerk and I ran inside Searching for them I could hear the shout through the asylum walls.

A second scream emerged from deep inside, slowly growing and deafening the human one. We finally found the key when a monstrous roar sounded, and everything went quiet. That silence was much more

frightening than the loud shrieks. Slowly and carefully we tried to walk out. Halfway through, something crunched and both of us hid. I crawled, under the reception desk while jerk hid behind a ripped out of its hinges door, leaning against the wall. I heard pause, similar to those of dogs. The creature moved closer. The thud came from above,

and I felt its weight on the desk. A disgusting clawed hand gripped the desk, and I could hear its panting. An uncanny snout stuck under the desk and sniffed, slowly lowering and revealing more of the creature's head. Just before it took a peek, jerk made a run for it. I heard his loud, clumsy ass. The thing on the desk instantly leaped, and everything went quiet. I was expecting gruesome sounds of flesh being torn into, but nothing. The solid hour passed, and I finally got out from under the desk. Everything was clear.

No traces of blood. Nothing. I walked out, got in my car. and drove off. The cops found the hatch the other day, but said it was all burned and in rubble. Jerk, the guy who tried to leave so he could save himself, was never hurt off again.

The other creepy part is that, when I described the skinny man to this one officer who drew faces, they found a suspect and later confirmed it was him. Two years ago, the man looked a lot healthier and worked as a well-paid chef. Then he supposedly died in a car accident. A werewolf almost killed you, and your boyfriend left you to be eaten. What a night.

Totally. But in a way, I needed it. Showed me that jerk in his true colors. Oh, I'm sure you'll find someone who truly loves you if you haven't already. I'm talking to him right now, dear. The beep followed. Next and final cooler. Who will be the lucky cherry on the top to end this spooky night?

Hmm. Number 30. Hey, Mark. Awesome to be talking with you. This will be the best story of the night. A young boy shouted. Is that so? We had a ghost pizza delivery guy,

a giant hog-like creature, a man-eating babysitter, a glowing mermaid, and an ex-chef werewolf. Name and story. Oh, I'm Thomas, and my buddy Billy is here. This story is going on live as we speak. Interesting.

Well, we're all on the edge of our seats. The floor is yours. Me and my bud heard rumors. Our secret technology was being held in this old warehouse. So we sneaked in just a few minutes ago. Now we're looking through the crates, but so far just random shit. His voice became distant. What is it?

Billy. He talked normally again. My bud heard something. We're going behind a few crates. Run! His heavy breathing and running sounded for a few seconds, before going silence. I'm hiding in one

of the crates. This monster attacked us. It got Billy. Teeth spread ear to ear. Scars and stitches all over the body. His long tongue hovered out from its mouth. No! Mark ended the call. Hmm, quite a boring one to close the night with.

Jump scares don't make a good story. Well, this is all from me for the next hour. Now it's time to enjoy some music. Earbuds in my ears, I whistled. I carried the crate where I'd put these two stupid little kids into my booth. Lucky me, I'll have more ways to kill time. this night. I whispered and slid my long, sharp nail across the top of the crate. College is a time of great paradox. You spend a good portion of your day in class and if you want to

pass your classes, you need to spend a good portion of your night studying. Oh and if you need money, you'll also need to find a job and heaven forbid that girl you took home from the party now thinks you two are a couple. It was constant juggling at trying to balance school. It was constant juggling at trying to balance school, study, work, girls and sleep because devoting too much time for one took away from the other. My parents weren't rich, so I didn't want to ask them for money, and I wasn't ready yet to join the military and let Uncle Sam pay for my college tuition, so I had to get a job. I thought I found the perfect one, one which paid me fairly decently while allowing me to study and do homework at the same time. Yep, I became a security guard.

It wasn't a bad gig because the site which I was assigned to was an office building which was located across the street to an FBI branch office in a low crime area of the city. I got there at four in the evening and escorted office workers to their cars until the building closed at five. After five, I do a few security patrols around the building, letting the cleaning crew in at eight in the evening and letting them out again at midnight when my shift ended. In between that time, I was free to study and do home. work from my desk inside the security office. I was basically on my own, and for six months at that site,

I only saw my security supervisor four times. Like I said, it was a sweet gig. Then, one Friday before my shift was to start, I got a call from the security supervisor asking me if I wouldn't mind working the graveyard shift for a few weeks, out at a site located in what was known as the Great Dismal Swamp. The hours were from 11 at night to 6.5. in the morning and because the site was so remote the job would pay an additional three dollars an hour well i

quickly agree because i could have used the extra cash since i got off at six in the morning and my first class started at nine i had plenty of time to get ready for school i met my security supervisor at the main office at eleven that night and once again i wasn't impressed by him which is why i was happy that i rarely saw him. He was middle-aged with a beer gut and absolutely no muscle mass on him whatsoever. His hair was, in my opinion, too long and scraggly to inspire confidence in someone who was supposed to be a security guard, and he had a bushy porn-style moustache. His hairy arms hit really tacky-looking tattoos, which he said he got while he was in the Navy. They looked like tattoos you get while serving time in prison. In fact, if it wasn't for the security badge,

uniform that he wore, which was disheveled and unironed. His picture looked like it should have adorned the walls of the post office. He told me to follow him, and he got into his old brown, primer grey Dodge Al Bundy-looking mobile that had magnetic signs on the rust-coloured doors that read A-1 security services. I got into my brand-new Chevy Camaro, which I paid for during my senior year in high school for money I'd saved working part-time jobs since I was 15, and followed him as he screeched out of the parking lot and onto the highway. It was a Friday night and this being a huge military town, it was military payday.

The highway was packed, but traffic was moving quickly as we took the exit towards the city of Chesapeake, which was built on the great dismal swamp. We were on the road for a good 45 minutes, going deeper and deeper into farm country and passing several rivers and streams. The traffic had all but vanished long ago and the streetlights were few and far between and still we hadn't reached the sight. I was seriously thinking that this guy was bringing me out here to kill me and dump my body into the swamp. The suspicion they got stronger when he turned off the main two-lane road

and onto a gravel road which wound between viney trees and weeping willows. The narrow road ended at a dilapidated parking lot, at the end of which stood what looked to be an abandoned two-story building. Behind the run-down-looking building was a canal which connected to the Elizabeth River, One tilted light pole, holding two light bulbs which flickered on and off, illuminated the parking lot. And aside from the old building with vines crawling up its sides, there was nothing else in the area except dark foreboding trees, swamp and probably the ghosts of past security guards, which this guy took out here to kill.

To my surprise, however, the creepy old abandoned building was well lit from the inside. Come on, kid, said my security supervisor. Let's get you inside. It's not good to stay out here for long. Huh? I said. Oh, nothing, he answered. As we continued walking, I saw several other run-down structures next to the building, though these were not illuminated and hung in the shadows.

As we got closer to the building, I saw that it had been vandalized, with several windows broken out, and there was spray-painted graffiti on the walls. There was also a slightly foul smell in the air, like wet rotting vegetation mixed with sweaty gym socks that had been left inside your gym bag in the trunk of your car for a week. This used to be an old paper mill a few years back, except my security manager as he opened the door into the brightly lit main lobby. The door hadn't been locked. The mill went out of business and just sat here until it was bought by a Dutch company that wants to start it back up sometime next year. till then they want us to keep watch over the facility to well discourage vandals and such we walked down the main corridor which was littered with broken glass leaves and more graffiti past a broken set of double doors and towards a room at the end of the hallway doesn't look like there's been vandals here for a while i observed as our footsteps echoed across the tomb-like building eh probably not said my supervisor we got to the room at the end of the corridor which any

up looking like an old boiler room with rusty pipes and gauges and whatnot. A large table stretched across the wall where windows looked out across the canal outside. Three old black padded chairs were at the table. Well, here we are, said my supervisor. Be careful when you do your roving patrols as there may be some raccoons or other animals which have made this building their home. And watch out when you walk around outside for snakes and whatnot. Hey, did you bring a flashlight?

"'Nope,' I said. "'I wasn't told I'd need one.' "'Okay,' he said. "'Well, let me get out of here. "'If you run into trouble, just call 911 "'and call the night shift supervisor. "'Give the lights on. "'I'll see you in the morning.'

"'Wait,' I said, "'this seems like a pretty nice sight, "'peasful, nobody to bug you "'and you get paid extra. "'What's the catch?' "'My supervisor. looked annoyed no catch he said leaving just can't get anyone to stay on this side roy the new guy quit this morning after his shift ended really i said but before i could say anything else my supervisor said

oh one more thing ned's running late but he'll be with you here later and remember keep the lights on and he walked out before i could say anything else and i can't say i was sorry to see him go. I looked around the boiler room and saw that there was a coffee pot and an old dirty microwave at the end of the table that I guess the previous security guards had been using, as well as an old touch-tone phone that I assume I would use to call the police if Jason Voorhees decided to rise out of the swamp and hack me to death. I figured I wait for a little bit and get settled in before going back out to my Camaro to get my schoolwork. If I finish my assignment tonight, I'd be free for the rest the weekend to use my Camaro for what it was intended for, to be a chick magnet.

I sat on one of the rusty old black padded chairs and nearly fell over backwards as the back support was broken and gave out. The creaking noise seemed to echo down the hallway. I rolled it aside and tested another chair and finding that this one was fairly stable. I sat down and scanned the table some more. I found the security duty log from the night before that was on a clipboard. The report from the new guy, Roy, was still on it, which meant that he never returned to the main office to turn it in. Apparently he'd just hauled us out of here this morning.

Roy's printing was neat and tidy, all in block letters and easy to read. I wondered why he would just leave the log here, when he knew he should have turned it in. Well, that's how a guard gets paid. With nothing else to do, I then read the log entries. Midnight, arrived on Sunday. site. Security supervisor instructs me to ensure that the lights remain on in the building, advised to call 911 if there's trouble, half-past midnight, conduct security patrol around

inside a building, several lights flickering on and off in upstairs corridors. 1 a.m. lights in parking lot flickering off and on. I thought I saw movement outside, went to investigate but found nothing. 2.15. Lights in the security room have gone out. Lights in main hallway downstairs flickering off and on. Going to look for break a box. 2.30. Cannot find breaker box. But I thought I saw someone outside looking through a window in the security room. Going to investigate. 250. There is definitely someone outside.

Call to the person, but when I got around to the room. to where he was standing, he was gone. The last entry was some time after that. I'm not sure what time it was exactly, because Roy didn't write it down. However, Roy's handwriting was no longer neat in uniform, but

shaky, almost as if he was panicked. It simply said, all lights completely out. That's not a person looking into the window. I'm out of here. I tossed the clipboard back onto the table. "'So what?' I said to myself.

"'Did a badger scare you away?' The lights in the room flickered for a second, but came back on. I thought I saw something at the window out of the corner of my eye, but dismissed it as a trick of the flickering lights. I leaned back in my chair, wondering when the other guard was supposed to get here. Because I usually worked by myself, I didn't know too many other guards. I'd heard the name Ned before, but usually as, old bloody net. I wondered if that was the same guy. I decided that it was a good time to do a

security patrol around the building, to get a feel for the place. I used the term security patrol loosely, as it sounded more professional than having fun exploring a creepy old abandoned paper mill. As it turned out, as far as abandoned office buildings go, it was pretty unremarkable. downstairs had a cafeteria and break room with long aluminum tables and empty snack and soda machines there was a front office and a conference room with empty desks and filing cabinets filled with old invoices shipping and receiving documents and paystuffs by the way if you used to work for an old paper mill in chesapeake that went out of business you might want to know that they have old paid documents that have your bank account information still on it inside old filing cabinets yep

The upstairs had two halls lined with offices and a storeroom which had cleaning supplies and a set of metal stairs which led to the roof and the air conditioners. Dust and cobwebs covered the corners and walls as well as shattered glass that hadn't been disturbed for ages and aside from the lights flickering on and off occasionally there really wasn't anything particularly spooky about the place. I then decided to go back out to my car to grab my school backpack and the dinner that I'd packed, two double-decker smoked ham and bologna sandwiches with Swiss cheese and just the right amount of spicy mustard and mayonnaise with a tall can of Pringles chips and a couple of ice-cold

red bulls. This was going to be yummy, as I'd only eaten lunch about 12 hours earlier, and I was famished. I returned to the boiler room, tossed my backpack to the side, and laid out my dinner, anxious to sink my teeth into those delicious sandwiches. I first rode a quick entry in the security log. 1.30, completed security patrol around building. Lights flickering occasionally, but otherwise all secure. Just as I turned to grab a sandwich, all of the lights in the building went out. I sat there in pitch blackness for about two seconds, annoyed that I'd have to look for

the breaker box when the lights flickering and came on dimly. The lights were flickering when I heard a shuffling noise coming from the main hallway. Slowly I got up, easing the seat back quietly in order to hear better. Yes, there definitely was something shambling down the hallway towards me. By this time, the lights had come completely on again as I approached the door to the boiler room and opened it. I was immediately confronted by a terrifying apparition. It was tall and skinny with a pot belly, pale, white, and old with a long, whips of white hair dangling down from his wrinkle, liver-spotted, bald head.

His nose and ears were large, and broken teeth lined his open mouth. The apparition stared at me through crazy-looking eyes. Oh, you must be Ned, I said, reading the name on his dirty uniform. His uniform looked worse than my supervisors, and Ned smelled of cigarettes and alcohol. Ah, that's me, boy, said Ned. Pushing past me and walking towards the table. Oh, bloody Ned, they call me. Sorry, I'm late.

My son had to go pick me up after the barclothes so I could get here. Ned slumped down on the seat I was sitting in. He'd obviously worked this sight before. Yeah, send me here to keep your company, boy. It appears all you young folks are too afraid to be out here in the swamps by yourselves. Hmm, sandwiches. Ned picked up one of my delicious, double-double-neged. Dekker smoked ham and bologna sandwiches with Swiss cheese and just the right amount of spicy mustard and

mayonnaise and began chomping down on it. Hey, that's my... Do you know why this place chases off so many people? said Ned, ignoring me. Because of you? I said, slumping down on the broken chair. Don't mess with me, boy, said Ned, chunks of bread flying out of his mouth as he spoke. I swear kids today have no class. No, boy.

Take a look out of the window, across the canal. You see all them trees out there? Nope, I said. I see the reflection of some old guy eating my dinner in the window and a whole lot of black night. Ah, damn it, boy, said Ned. Well, if you could see out there, that behind them trees is an Indian graveyard.

About before the white man came, this land used to belong to the Chesapeake Indians. That's me, boy. I'm part Chesapeake Indian. Okay, I said, assuming that you are telling the truth, the canal's pretty wide and the trees are far back across the bank. That had put the graveyard pretty far from here. Ah, they moved the markers, but they left the bodies here, boy, said net. Here, right where they built this paper mill.

They say it went bankrupt because they angered the spirits of my ancestors. I rolled my eyes at this drunken old creep. Like in that movie? What movie? said Ned. Now opening my can of Pringles. That movie where they moved the headstones but left the bodies and that little girl got sucked into the television. Then a stuffed clown tried to drag the little boy under the bed.

Ned looked at me questioningly. You on drugs, boy? Exasperated, I grabbed my other sandwich on my red boss and rolled the chair to the far end of the table where I'd throw in my backpack. At least I could get some school work done. I took out one of my extremely overpriced textbooks and turned my back to Ned. I tried to get into the zone to do my homework. You afraid of blood, boy? asked Ned. Because I can't stand boys who are afraid of blood.

I always say that you don't deserve to call yourself a man. if you're afraid of blood. Hell, you may not deserve to live if you're afraid of blood. I slowly turned, now determined to keep an eye on this insane old man. No,

don't spend too much time obsessing about blood, Ned, I said. That's the problem with you young kids these days, all weak and pathetic. I was in Narm, boy. We rode around in blood and guts every day. Blood boy. Bucket,

buckets of blood. My father did two tours of Judy in Vietnam, I answered. He was with the Marines, and he never talked about rolling around in buckets of blood. said Ned, waving his hands dismissively. Blood isn't death. Blood's life. I hunt, you know, mostly deer, and every time I hunt, I take the blood of my kills and I put it in a metal tub. Then I get all naked and climb into the tub. I absorb the life of my kills in that tub, and I take the spirit of the deer by drinking its blood. Well, I'm not hungry ever again, I said, pushing my sandwich towards bloody Nade. When my kid got old enough, I taught him how to hunt too, continued Nad. When we got his first deer kill, we drained the blood into a bucket, and made my son pour the blood over his head.

Blood, baby, blood. With all of Ned's talk of blood and guts, I could feel myself getting nauseous. You're looking kind of white there, boy, said Ned. You ain't afraid of a little blood, are you, boy? No, I said, getting up on wobbly feet. I'm going to go do a security patrol and get some fresh air. Don't let them go sketch, boy, cackled Ned as I left the room. Sweating, with spots appearing in my eyesight.

I staggered down the hallway and said, stepped outside feeling instantly better. Where in the world did they dig up that vampire? I walked to the parking lot under the flickering light pole and took deep breaths until the horrific images that Ned implanted in my head had faded away. It was deathly still, with the calming sounds of water rippling down the canal,

mingle with the songs of frogs and crickets. Suddenly, the streetlight went out, and all sounds seemed to cease. Even the lights coming from the building seemed to flicker and dim. Without a flashlight, there was no point to be outside any longer. Reluctantly, I began walking back towards the building, back to where Ned was. I decided that if he was still crazy when I got there, I'd moved to the cafeteria area and spend the rest of the shift there.

As I walked towards the building across that parking lot, I couldn't help but feel like it was being watched. That made me not like Ned all the more With his stories of Indian ghosts and burial grounds The lights were still flickering as I walked down the main corridor to the boiler room The flickering lights would make it hard to do homework But fortunately they usually didn't flicker for very long By the time I reached the boiler room the lights were back on

Ned was still in his seat Facing outside towards the window I'm back ned I said, but he didn't move. He didn't say anything. I slowly walked up behind him. Ned? I stood in front of him, looking down. Ned was slumped down in the chair, eyes closed and completely still. Ned, I said again, looking to see if his chest was rising and falling. It wasn't. Ned, I leaned forward, attempting to put my hand on his chest. He was rising and falling. It wasn't. Ned, I leaned forward, attempting to put my hand on his chest to feel for a heartbeat.

Blood! Ned cackled as he smacked his lips, dreaming. He turned over in his seat, getting comfortable in his drunken stupor. Blood, he said again as he began snoring. Oh, damn it, Ned, I said. Then the lights went out completely. I stood in darkness for a second. noticing that the temperature had dropped.

The hair on the back of my neck raised as I slowly turned around, having that eerie feeling again that I was being watched. Outside the window, hands pressed against the glass, was what appeared to be a very, very white little boy, staring at me. Though he was pure, ghostly white, he had the round face, round nose and round facial features of a Latino or Native American.

short hair looking like it was cut in a bowl-cut fashion framing two abnormally large eyes coloured pitch black and his mouth was wide open as if in a silent scream as i stood there too shocked and terrified to move the most ridiculous thought came into my mind god you aren't nearly as creepy as bloody old ned though i couldn't see his eyes i knew that the little little boy was staring right through me. Slowly he began to fade as if being called back or swallowed by the darkness until he disappeared. Soon even his little handprints on the window were gone. When the boy faded away, the lights immediately came back on. Strangely, even though I was terrified, I didn't sense anything malicious coming from the apparition. I took my backpack to the abandoned

cafeteria in order to do my schoolwork, thinking that if the little boy Pocahontas had a problem with us, he'd come back and get old bloody ned. In fact, please get old bloody Ned. I was working on my assignment for so long that I didn't realize it was almost time for shift change. To my surprise, my security supervisor came into the building at around 15 minutes before shift change. Old Bloody Ned was asleep the whole time until the shift change. Then he finally. woke up. My security supervisor shambled down the corridor, smelling of alcohol. His eyes bloodshot, and he was obviously hung over. Old Bloody Ned awoke and stumbled to the supervisor. Hey son, old Bloody Ned said. Son, I thought. Hey, pa, said my supervisor. Yeah, I bought the car for you,

dad. Oh, I thought. That figures. Old Bloody Ned is. my insane supervisor's father. Hey, how'd your shift go? asked the supervisor. Ned pointed at me. Oh, this little boy spent the night shaking in his pants, son. Hell, I couldn't keep him awake through his shift. He's a freaking coward, son. My supervisor looked at me with disdain. Boy, you are a pathetic sack of lazy crap, ain't you? Not really, I said. Oh, bloody Ned got him. into the old, rusty dodge and drove away, saying, I'll be back to pick you up at one o'clock, son. His sister would be on stage at a gallery of boobs at one o'clock, and we need to give her as much

support as we can when she climbs on that pole. As old bloody Ned drove away, I turned to my supervisor. Hey, man, I said. I have a suggestion. My supervisor rolled his eyes. What do you want, you cowardly little college boy? I let his remarks slide off me as I said Look This is a pretty easy sight

During the graveyard shift There doesn't need to be two people here When I come back tonight Old Bloody Ned does not need to be here I live in a small city in England And currently in my final year of university I am not your average student I don't socialise and I don't have any real friends

I prefer the company of my own thoughts In my spare time I like to hike through forests, watch movies or, if it's warm enough, read books in the sunshine. For the first year of university, I also cycled a lot. That was my main hobby back then. I lived exploring the countryside that surrounds my city, gave me a sense of freedom and calmed down my raging anxiety. Made me feel at peace with the world. But all good things eventually come to an end, and so did this. after a while I realised that I'd explored all there was to explore and my cycling tricks began to feel tedious and pointless.

I decided to try something different. Night cycling. I know a lot of people would frown at the idea of cycling through deserted country roads at midnight by yourself. And my family definitely didn't approve when I told them about it sometime later. But I wasn't worried. I'd spent enough time outside to know the world isn't as dangerous as the news would have you believe. serial killers don't wait around every corner waiting to murder random people and I didn't believe in the supernatural I wanted to believe and that was one of the reasons I decided to try night cycling in the first place

maybe just maybe I'd see something out of the ordinary something that would make me believe that there's more to this mundane world meets the eye and that there are hidden things lurking just out of sight Although I might sound like it, I definitely wasn't brave. Every time I left the safety of the lit city streets and entered the ominous darkness that hung thickly over the countryside, I felt my heart throbbing in my throat and all my hair standing on end. It was a whole other world, shadows playing tricks on my eyes, snapping twigs and rustling leaves, signaling the presence of creatures unseen.

My imagination ran wild whenever I looked into the darkness that surrounded the small, bubble of ghostly light in front of me. One month passed, then two, then three, and nothing happened. As I was planning another midnight excursion, it occurred to me that this too had begun to feel tedious. The tension that accompanied my night rides was tiring and once again it all felt repetitive, pointless. I decided that I'd take a rest from cycling for a while, starting the next day. After all, I already planned my ride for the day in detail, and it would pass through segments I'd never been through before. As always, I went through the entire route using Google Street View. I'd started doing that some time ago after I encountered some unwelcome surprises on my

rides. It also let me familiarize myself with the route, which decreased my chances of getting lost and having to pull up Google Maps in the middle of nowhere. I didn't like stopping on my night rides. I felt vulnerable and the lack of wind rushing past me created an eerie, uncomfortable silence. I saw that there was nothing wrong with the route, but one segment did bother me. I had to pass through a small pedestrian pathway that connected two parallel roads. I zoomed in as much as I could from both ends, but the image street view gave me wasn't of much help. All I saw was a blurry pathway passing through dense trees. I wasn't happy. about it. You see, I once accidentally took a wrong turn and had to cycle through a forest.

It was so dark and I was so creeped out that in that forest I took another wrong turn and ended up lost in the woods in the dead of night. I found my way out in what was probably about ten minutes. After all, I knew these woods pretty well, but after such an intense shock, I'm sure you can understand why I wasn't particularly keen on that little segment of my road. But the segment was very short and straight, so I figured I could survive one minute of cycling through dense trees. I felt silly as I got onto my bike that night. Having already decided to quit, I didn't have the resolve I had on all my previous excursions. Self-doubt started creeping in. Why was I doing this? Wouldn't it be better to quit today and spend the evening watching TV in a warm, cozy bed?

I sighed and, nonetheless, peddled off. The ride went smoothly, as it usually did, and then I arrived at that small pathway that I had dreaded, according to my phone at least. I couldn't see it. I went back and forth along the stretch of the road I was on, shining my flashlight until I spotted a narrow gap in the bushes in an old, worn-down, rotten sign that said this was indeed a footpath. It was quite a way off to the left of where it was supposed to be, according to Google Maps. I shrugged it off anyway, and decided that my GPS was having a fit, as it often did. Even though the road I was on happened to be lit by old street lamps that cast a dim, grossly orange light around them, I couldn't see the tiniest bit of what was beyond the bushes.

I sucked in a breath and stepped into the darkness. As soon as I did so, it occurred to me that the path was extremely uneven. pits, large rocks and gnarly tree roots covered it, so I ended up having to carry my bicycle. Luckily it was a road bike, so it was quite light. It didn't occur to me at the time that when I'd looked at what was visible of the path on streetview, it appeared smooth. After a few minutes of walking, I could no longer see the orange light of the street lamps. All around me were trees, and I felt like I was walking through a forest. I tried to think happy thoughts to keep myself from panicking.

I knew I wasn't in any real danger, but still, I didn't like the idea of walking through a pitch black forest, as I'd already said being on foot, made me feel vulnerable. And the path went on and on, and on. Unable to take it anymore, I whipped out my phone, bringing out the map. I was almost there, a few more steps than I'd be out on the road. I sped up, just as my GPS showed that I'd reached the end of the footpath. Dense, twisted trees and bushes blocked my way out. I looked at the map again.

The path was completely straight. Why were there trees in my way? Why couldn't I see the road? My heartbeat quickened as I frantically began stumbling, this way and that, shining the flashlight all over the place in hopes of finding a way through this dense vegetation. The road, I thought, it's just on the other side. It must be. There has to be a way through. My arms began to ache from maneuvering the bike. The flash-light, you see, was attached to the handlebars. I crunched loudly through twigs, panic beginning to take control of my body,

and then I froze. I shivered feeling a sudden chill. I could feel all the hair on my body standing on end as my skin tingled with the goosebumps. I felt like I was being watched. The darkness surrounding me felt intrusive, unfriendly. I don't know how else to describe it. It felt like the darkness itself was circling around me, like a lion circles around its prey. My flashlight began to flicker.

I smacked it viciously. Stay on, stay on, please, God, stay on. The light died. I stood parallel. my breathing rapid as darkness enveloped me on all sides and then what felt like two ice-cold razor-sharp claws pinched the skin on my neck I would have screamed but my throat was too tight to allow any sound to escape I turned around dropping the bike and swatting empty air with both hands nothing and I felt the same sensation on my right arm I swatted again and took a few steps backwards, bumping into something wet and furry.

It rushed off immediately, leaving behind it only the stench of rotten meat. Then I felt the skin on my neck. My right arm and my left thigh had been pinched all at once. This time, however, the claws went deep into my flesh. I wouldn't let go no matter what I did. When I swatted at them, there was nothing. No claws, no hand, but I could feel them there. They were boring deep into my body, and I could feel hot blood pouring out of the wounds.

My eyes began to tear up from excruciating pain as I felt more pinches on my shoulder, my back, my stomach. They were all over me. I clasped to my knees, sobbing hysterically, feeling nauseous. Just then I saw a light. I heard the soft whirring of an engine in the distance. The pain ceased at once, and the sensation of being brutally pinched everywhere at once by ice-cold razor-sharp claws just disappeared. My flashlight turned back on, still flickering. It was a car passing through.

Its headlights flickered as it passed me just on the other side of the shrubbery, but their bright golden light was enough for me to spot a break in the bushes. Without wasting a second, I grabbed my bike and race through it. rushing out onto the road just as the car disappeared around the corner. I've never in my life been so happy to see a road. Immediately, my flashlight went dark again. I got onto my bike quicker than ever before and pedaled furiously just as I felt something ice-cold touched the back of my neck.

After about a minute of peddling blindly along the road, my flashlight turned back on. No flickering this time. As soon as I returned to my dorm, I locked myself in my room and then rushed over to the mirror. My clothes were soaked with blood. But when I lifted them, there were no wounds. There were only a few small scrapes and bruises. I felt extremely nauseous.

I didn't sleep that night. I just sat in bed, staring at the wall and trying to piece together what had happened, all the time expecting to feel the touch of ice, cold claws on my bare skin. I spent weeks looking through various websites about cryptids and paranormal reports from around my area, but I couldn't find anything remotely similar to what I had experienced. If anyone listening to this has any idea what it was, then please tell me I'll be eternally grateful. I haven't gotten a good night's sleep ever since that incident. I keep having these vivid, almost lucid nightmares.

Needless to say, I no longer go cycling at night. I try not to go out after dark at all, unless it's absolutely necessary. On the rare occasion that I find myself alone on a dark, quiet footpath at night with trees nearby, I swear I can feel a chilly breeze coming out of nowhere, carrying with it the faint stench of rotten meat. And so once again, we reach the end of tonight's podcast. My thanks as always to the authors of those wonderful stories, and to you for taking the time to listen.

I'll ask one small favor of you. Wherever you get your podcast from, please write a few nice words and leave a five-star review because it really helps the podcast. That's it for this week, but I'll be back again, same time, same place, and I do so hope you'll join me once more.

Until next time, sweet dreams and bye-bye.