Day 4 - We Meet Again & Do You See It Too?

0:00I'm John Grills from Creepy, and I listen to the Be Afraid podcast network. Therapy's biggest impact doesn't show up in some dramatic breakthrough. It shows up in the smallest moments. You bite your tongue instead of escalating. You put your phone down, instead of firing off that text. You say what you actually mean, instead of what would hurt someone else the most. Nobody applaud those moments, but they quietly change your life. That's what growing feels like, and that's exactly what growth therapy is here for. Grow is therapy that works, covered by insurance. Sessions average $21 with insurance, and some pay as little as $0 depending on their plan. There are no subscriptions, no long-term commitments, you just pay per session. Grow connects you with thousands of high-quality licensed therapists across the US, offering both virtual and in-person sessions, nights and weekends. You can search by what matters, like insurance, specialty, identity or availability, and you

1:01can book a therapy session in minutes and begin in as little as two days, not the national 48-day average. See if you could pay as little as $0 for therapy in seconds at growtherapy.com slash a cast. That's growtherapy.com slash a cast. Growtherapy.com slash a cast. Availability and coverage vary by state and insurance plan. Think of a toilet as just an everyday object. Your entire perspective shifts the moment you experience a collar smart toilet. Design changes everything, transforming a basic routine into something extraordinary. With stand-out aesthetics and intuitive controls, these are functional works of art, stunning design that never sacrifices performance. Enjoy customizable features for elevated comfort and convenience. It's more than a fixture. It's a cleaner routine and a more refined space. Experience the difference of collar smart toilets. Find more at collar.com.

2:25And then there's the Magnus Protocol. The true sequel to the Magnus Archives. It follows two employees of an underfunded government organization that stumble into the legacy of the Magnus Institute. And danger they were never prepared for. The Magnus Protocol is available on the Magnus Archives RSS feed and is currently releasing a second season. Subscribe wherever you listen to podcasts. Creepy Presents. The 31 Days of Horror. Day 4. No. This is Creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepy pastures and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened or not simply fabrications is for you to decide these stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language.

3:32Listener discretion is advised. Alright, let's hear another round of applause for Martin's story. Why I still live in my mom's basement. Especially those of us who've had his mom to have a crumble. Okay, next up. Um, hi. I'm Danielle and this is my story. We meet again. I recognize you immediately. It's the jack-o-lantern sweater that catches my attention. The cheap heat transfer vinyl. A gaping hideous mouth of square teeth and shifty rectangular eyes. The orange is faded. The black silhouette cracked along the edges. But it still radiates like a hazard light.

4:34I'm surprised you've kept it after all this time. How long has it been? Or dared to wear it again? But I'm glad you did. I may not have noticed you otherwise. I've been waiting to happen upon you again. To confront you about the day you unraveled on the subway platform during rush hour. The day I felt my heart claw into my throat. Felt the wet looseness in my bowels that only true fear can provoke. At the time, I thought you were just another loony in a city full of loonies. But you weren't. Were you. You must be in a hurry. Because you're walking fast. And I'm struggling to keep up. The sidewalk is crowded. And no one seems to notice my desperate hustle. I'm anxious I'll lose you. And an intense heat has settled over me.

5:34My skin feels tight and itchy. The cacophony of the city fades. And I can hear the clap of your souls against the cement. And like to call out your name. But I don't know it. I don't remember it being broadcast on the news after. You turn the corner now. And I follow. A woman in black leggings blows peppermint vapin' my face. And I wave my hand at it. But she doesn't seem to see me. On my left, a red neon light in the bodega window says open. And I narrow my eyes against its irritating glare. I step over a spattering of milky coffee that's running toward the curb. And it reminds me of the way my daughter's bladder let go when you grabbed her. It happened so fast. A small crowd waiting for the sixth train heads down. My daughter and I had been in a hurry.

6:34There was no school. And I nez had to spend the day at my office. I remember being annoyed. My arm pits damp. I plucked a strand of hair, watched it drift to the ground. We should have just ate home. But we didn't. And then you dropped your phone on the tracks. The sound was like a grenade in the impatient silence of the platform. Your face had faded to a sickly cooked corn yellow. Your head flick flick flickering to one side, like a puppets on a string. You grabbed the woman closest to you and spoke to her. Then to someone else. I couldn't hear what you said at first. But then your words gathered momentum. First fourth, a pus-filled whitehead exploding onto all of us. Don't get on the train. People backed away, turned their heads, walked briskly to the other end of the platform.

7:39This is New York City. People like you. Loud, wild-eyed, unhinged. Or like the errant bottles of warm piss sometimes left on the sidewalk. We see you. But we grimace and disgust and look away. I felt a slight vibration then. I heard the rumble of heavy machinery approaching. The air twisted around us as the train approached. And then there you were. Your fingers around Inaz's collar, dragging her away. Her bladder let go just as the jackal in and on your sweater opened its mouth wide and wider. We were all screaming. But our voices were swallowed by the deafening roar of the oncoming train. And then the police were there. And you were on the ground. And Inaz was in my arms. And the train, silver and steel and safe, was in the station. And we backed away as you cried.

8:40Anormous, breathless, wet heaving sobs. We should have gone home. But we didn't. I was late. And you were crazy. And the train doors were open. And now I can't remember why I ever wanted to see you again. Or what I was going to say when I caught up to you. On my left, a red neon light in a bodega window says nope. And I narrow my eyes against its irritating brightness. I step over a spattering of milky coffee that's running towards the curb. And something isn't right. Not the head, the subway entrance back in. Shiny, rebuilt. The dust and the flames and the burnt flesh forgotten. You're already through the turn style and the train is pulling in. So I slip onto the platform through the emergency exit.

9:43It's clean and freshly painted here, but it smells putrid. And I think about the time I discovered an old wedge of cheese in the back of the fridge. I reach out to tap your shoulder, but I can't move. My arm is weightless and fleeting as a puff of smoke. You step onto the train and as the doors close between us. I remember what I want to say. You tried to warn me. I see my reflection in the darkened glass. I'm still holding, I nez. But her face is a rotten pumpkin. Pulp and seed and stagnant goo. Her right arm gone. The stump juts from her tiny body. Her bones are gleaming white. The flesh on my face and chest is sizzling, blackened, and twisted like the skin of a roasted chicken.

10:43My left eyeball dangles beside my teeth. You see me now. And you place your palm against the glass. And then the hiss of breaks, the hum of metal, and the light's flicker as the train pulls you away. My heart is cold and hard and beatless in my chest. My brain a wasps nest of fleeting images that attack, stinging me with their venom. My nez is splotchy newborn skin against mine. The candles of a third birthday cake. Her warm, sleeping body tucked safely in my arms at the Italian restaurant on our corner. A front toothless grin, a five dollar bill clutched in one hand. I want to scream and cry and destroy everything in my path. But I'm shattered glass. I can't stop and stomp and are reprobble.

11:45I can only float up the stairs, back onto the city street. My eyes burn and I lift my hand to shield them from the sun. And that's when I see you. I recognize you immediately. It's the jack-o-lantern sweater that always catches my attention. The cheap heat transfer vinyl. A gaping hideous mouth of square teeth and shifty rectangular eyes. The orange has faded. The black silhouette cracked along the edges. But it still radiates like a hazard light. I'm surprised you kept it after all this time. How long has it been? Or dared to wear it again? But I'm glad you did. I may not have noticed you otherwise. Nice work, Danielle. See, it's not so bad, is it?

12:45I'm glad you think so. Because I signed you up to go. What? Oh, come on. I don't have anything ready. You seem like you know everything about this town. Just tell one of those stories. I don't wear the band's t-shirt to the concert, Danielle. You don't? Well, you better come up with something. Hold on. I need to step outside to take this call. I didn't hear your phone ring. Therapy's biggest impact doesn't show up in some dramatic breakthrough. It shows up in the smallest moments. You bite your tongue instead of escalating. You put your phone down instead of firing off that text. You say what you actually mean instead of what would hurt someone else the most. Nobody applauds those moments, but they quietly change your life. That's what growing feels like. And that's exactly what growth therapy is here for. Grow is therapy that works, covered by insurance.

13:47Sessions average $21 with insurance and some pay as little as $0 depending on their plan. No subscriptions, no long-term commitments, you just pay per session. Grow connects you with thousands of high-quality licensed therapists across the US, offering both virtual and in-person sessions, nights and weekends. You can search by what matters, like insurance, specialty, identity, or availability. And you can book a therapy session in minutes and begin in as little as two days, not the national 48-day average. See if you could pay as little as $0 for therapy in seconds at growtherapy.com slash acast. That's growtherapy.com slash acast. Growtherapy.com slash acast. Availability and coverage vary by state and insurance plan. At Edward Jones, we believe rich means opening yourself to new possibilities. That's why your dedicated financial advisor meets you where you are, helping you move forward with confidence.

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15:50That's ZockDoc. ZocDoc. DoC, doC. And book that appointment on your to-do list. Finally, I thought you ditched me. What are you talking about? It is God here. Yeah, I know. I saw you walk in. Right. Right. What? Okay, everyone. Last call. I know, I know, but we have time for one more story. Looks like that's going to be John. Let's give him a hand. What? No, I can't. No getting out of it. If the rest of us have to, so do you. Okay. Just go. Forget about being an introvert for 15 minutes. Hi, I'm John and for my story, I guess my story starts with a question.

16:59Do you see it too? Somehow and inevitably, in the midst of a traumatic event, time slows down and speeds up at the same moment. You float outside yourself of a passenger in a vehicle beyond space and time, beyond emotion or logic, and you watch everything unfold in half speed, slow down and slow, painful increments, moving glacial in front of your eyes. And the bitch of it? The true, damnable misery of it? Is it your helpless to do anything about it? A voyeuristic afterthought in the breaking of your life. That's how it was. One that thing killed Molly. We were running through the darkness. The moon was even hiding behind the clouds. Black greasy streaks have stretched thin vapors obscure the path before us through the forest. What we thought was the path back to the car proved to be a game trail leading this far

18:01away from the trailhead, deeper into the old growth forest all around us. This place was old, dense, throcks hundreds of millions of years old, shutting high out of the ground and giant fingers of quartzite and granite, towering above us, colossal monuments in the midnight black. We ran with our hands out in front of us, our palms bloody from the branches and thorns and tangles we barrel through a top speed, running blind from the creature pursuing us through the trees. It's growl crystal clear. It's hot breath palpable in the backs of our necks. It was playing with us. Until it wasn't. Molly was in front of me, just a step. She had her arm reach back for me, her fingertips brushing as we made our way over rocks and sticks, leaves and limbs. They tripped over at dead falls she'd hopped over instinctively. She ran track and field in college. High jump hurdles real high. She could have blown past me at any point, left me in the woods to fend for myself.

19:07But she never would have. She stayed right in front the whole time, leading us, leading me, trying to get away from this thing. This mother fucking demon for a monster. Whatever the hell it is. When I fell, I felt the blood in my mouth instantly. Could taste it. Feel it's salty heat. I lost two teeth, front ones. But other than that, I was no worse for wear. I began to jump in my feet. I heard Molly stop, just for the briefest of moments to look back and check on me. She turned to me. We should have her hand to help me up. We have to keep moving. She said bending slightly to reach me. I know, I answered, reaching for her in the darkness. The moonlight nifing through the tree tops, like jagged, molten stalagpites, peppering the ground around us with little pinpricks of yellow white light that only succeeded in making

20:10the shadows grow darker. I'm fine. Lost a couple t- the words caught in my throat. His Molly was flung violently sideways as if tackled from the right. Her feet flew up into the air as her body seemed to fold in on itself. Her ribs crunching as she crumpled to the ground several yards away. I could hear her moan, but it couldn't no longer sear at all. Her breasts were ragged, raspy and wet. I scurried on my hands and knees in the pitch towards the sound of her, expecting the inevitable bull rush of fur and fang. I crawled blindly for a few yards, the ground wet, sticky, smelling of earthworms and shit. And I found her, a piece at a time. My hands were covered in her, in her hair, her blood, her marrow and her meat. That's when time caught up to itself.

21:11That's when time started ticking at normal speed again, when the salons came back. When I finally exhaled, took a deep breath and sprung the fuck up and started running again. My hands opened front of me, to creature playing with me, just like before. I ran like that, half blind, half in a trance, until I came to a clearing where the sparse moonlight illuminated an old stone foundation with a remnants of low-block walls still standing in the shape of a spacious homestead, long-rotted to the ground. The center of the structure was fully overgrown. Tall grasses and saplings crowded the space between the old stone partitions. I ran and practically dove under a section of crumbled rock and rolled completely head over heels into the dense brush within. I flopped my belly, facing the way I come and waited breathlessly. My clothes mad at with Molly's blood. My mouth throbbing from sucking in air through the big gap in my teeth now, my heart beating

22:14out of my chest. I was pounding from a blood rushing through my veins. I just wanted to stay inside my body for a little while longer. The breath was hot on my neck and smelled like hot dogs and bad broccoli. The creature was directly over my prone body. I could feel its hunches on my feet, its massive form lumbering over me. Its long bark fur brushed the back of my ears as it lowered itself even closer to my back. It put its snout to the side of my head. Its tongue lapped at my cheek. The blood dribbling out from between my lips from the two teeth that I'd knocked out when I fell back there. I could smell Molly's perfume. I looked cautiously, shakily to the right, with just my eyes trying as hard as I could not to turn my head and provoke it into biting my face off on the spot.

23:15It wasn't a creature, I thought it would be. It wasn't this massive hulk of fur and blood of claws and guts and teeth. I turned my head. Molly was standing over me, staring out at the tree line. She was topless. The skin of the tops of her shoulders glimmered in the faint light of late night. Her jeans were stained with muddy rusty red color. Her stomach was ripped open and at least two feet of her intestines were poking out like slimy night-crawlers. Molly's left eye was a beautiful emerald dangling from a smash cheek. In her right hand it had been chewed off at the forearm. A shattered ulna and partial radius stuck out from the peeled back skin, like two nubs of some kind of sinister stun gun. I rolled my back and sat up quickly, pulling my knees up my chest instinctively, bracing for what came next. She stood looking down at me, to look on her broken face, one of almost pity.

24:22I was prepared to die. I closed my eyes tightly against her massage. I couldn't see her like that. I couldn't process the carnage my sight was recording. My mind won't blank because I felt her lean down to me. Her face centimeters from mine. She took my chin in her right hand and turned it toward the tree line. I opened my eyes. There, working just beyond the moonlight, was the menacing shape of a creature standing erect onto massive legs. Its muscular black arms hanging down at its sides. The creature's shoulders rising and falling with each enormous breath. Its snow was elongated and full of oversized fangs to pick for its mouse. It stood with an almost sinister grin on its face, yellow eyes burning in the darkness. He raised a hand, claws the size of steak knives, populating each long bony finger, and

25:30waved. Time slowed down again. I looked up at Molly. Do you see it too? She whispered. My head rolled around on a swivel. I quickly scanned the tree line. The creature was gone. Bollyne me, I heard the cracking of bones, smelled hot dogs and bad broccoli, felt the breath hot and wet on the back of my neck. My swallowed heart, my stomach threatening to empty onto the weeds around me. I saw it alright. I saw it. As the creature's claws sliced into the flesh of my back, I was forced down under my stomach. My face buried in tall grasses and tangles I had hidden in. What was to be my protection? My cover was now to be my burial shroud. This is where they'd find me. Face down in the weeds, disemboweled in the woods, taking a hike.

26:35My wife wanted to take for years. As the beast bit down on the side of my neck, I couldn't help wonder how long it would be before we were found by anyone. The area was rarely hiked. That's which ruined my wife's attention to in the first place. That in the ruins of old plantations dotted around the county. It was to be an in and out. Spend the day seeing all kinds of wonders. Wow, we certainly did that. I remember thinking also in the eternity it was biting me. Right before I passed out, it was the blood gushed out of my veins and ran down my shoulder, pooling in the grass beside me. That it doesn't actually hurt as much as I thought it would. I always assumed having your head bitten off might hurt a little bit. But it didn't. Just felt warm and itchy, like getting a shot at the dentist.

27:37I felt pressure, gasped for precious breath as its jaws closed in on me. But it didn't hurt. Not really. I don't know why the thing didn't kill me that night. When the sun came up, I was still alive. I couldn't move and I'd lost a lot of blood from the wounds on my back and neck. But I was alive. A little girl in her mutt were standing over me, perched a top to short stone wall forming the perimeter of the abandoned structure. Her eyes were black as coal, and the ball she held creedled in her arms like a baby was covered in black felt. Its eyes burning yellow. Its mouth, a snarled grin. Once later I realized the others. Several men with shotguns pointed at the ground, resting in the look of their arms stood inside the ruins with me. Smoking big cigars and passing a jug. Wondering what to do with me, no doubt. Behind them were three old women in peasant skirts.

28:40Their hair tied up in bundles of bell-colored cloth. They smoked as well, but they looked more concerned than their counterparts. They whispered among themselves taking turns between pointing and looking at me with both pity and fear. The men didn't talk at all. They checked their weapons, cracking them open and looking down at the breach. One of the men dressed in bib overalls and wearing a baseball cap on top of a bald head. Step forward and raise the braille of his gun at my face. I laid there in a fuk. My lips cracked and mouthed dry. Swollen almost closed. The wound in my neck have enclauted, throbbing like a branding iron had been sewn into it. My back burned against the ground, and I couldn't feel my legs. The little girl spoke up just then and everyone stopped and looked at her. Listening as if awaiting the verdict. She held the doll now by one of its long, dangly arms down at her side and said,

29:45this man is in need. We will help him and get him on his way, where he will be no other bother. My wife? I croaked through the sawdust in my mouth. We have seen her. There is to be no help for that one. She said flatly with the authority of a much older person. But for you, there is time. It will take you. Fix you up. Send you on your way. Never to return here. Agreed? What was that thing? Where's Molly? I could barely make out the words. My lips didn't work. My brain. I felt like nothing did. That all of this was a cruel introduction to the afterlife. Agreed? She asked again. This time louder, more forceful.

30:47I knew I needed help if I was going to live. I'm talking about what had happened, would most likely change the verdict against me. Agreed? I said. And then promptly passed out. It's been almost a year now since Molly died. Horrible hiking accident. Bear attack. What happened to anyone? Except I know it wasn't a bear. I know it really happened to Molly. What happened to me that night. And what those people did for me? What they helped me to hold it back. But the pull is almost too much now. I feel compelled. I feel drawn. I feel called to. I must go back. I must know. Sometimes since that trip, late at night, I'll wake up with Molly sitting up in bed next to me.

31:48Her muddy hiking boots on top of the covers. Her jeans stained with blood in her. Her shirt ripped, the shreds clinging scantily to her shoulders. She stares at the closet door. Always a few inches of jar. And whispers to me without a birding her gaze from the darkened corner of the room. Do you see it? 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, share a light licensing or with written consent from the authors.

32:50No portion of this podcast may be rebroadcast or otherwise distributed without the expressed written consent of the creepy podcast production team and the stories also. At Edward Jones, we believe rich means opening yourself to new possibilities. That's why your dedicated financial advisor meets you where you are, helping you move forward with confidence. Find your rich Edward Jones, member SIPC. Hi, this is Brooke DeVard from Naked Beauty. I am always looking for ways to elevate our daily rituals and the colder smart toilet is proof that design changes everything. It's the stunning sculptural piece that feels like quiet luxury for your bathroom. It totally transforms your daily ritual into something elevated with customizable cleansing and touch screen controls.

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