The Torn Man & If You Live in My Town

Tom returns to the lakeside home where his father died, hoping to confront his past.

“But instead, something beneath the water begins to answer.”

As his behavior grows distant and disturbing, his wife and loved ones are pulled into a nightmare that feels older than memory itself. Blending the psychological dread with the creeping inescapable horror, the demon explores grief, possession, and the horrors we inherit. Some forces don't just haunt you, they consume you, watch the trailer and learn more now.

This is Creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepy pastas and urban legends in the world, whether these stories truly happened, or my sympathy fabrications

is for you to decide, these stories made in teen graphic depictions of violence and

explicit language, listener discretion is advised. Happy Home Day, everyone, and all that's saying implies, halfway through the week and that

“much closer to the weekend, not that it's something I think that much about these”

days. I've really been digging being at the station. It's certain to feel more and more like home, and honestly, from all the complaining I used to do about being alone, I think it's more that the introvert side of me was just isolating myself too much.

If people who work here are really funny, I mean, I'm not sure if they're trying to be, but the other day, the receptionist Carol was talking about how lately she feels like someone was watching her while she sleeps.

Oh, man, a Carol, always something with her.

Anyway, I got to go have a chat with HR in a minute to over some stuff that I don't think is that interesting, you all. So let's get right into the stories.

“First up, from writer Jason Duck and nearby Nate Dufort, creepy presence in the torn man.”

Dan Robertson looked up at the high brick walls of the castle ridge hotel. His battered red fiesta crossed over the wooden drawbridge that spanned the moat and drove under the port Colis, its sharp points promising death. His blue eyes scanned the gothic structure with his imposing columns, high arches, and stained glass windows.

He parked his vehicle in the car park before strolling through the main entrance. By next week, the castle ridge hotel would be closed for the winter. Presently, though, the hotel's foyer was filled with people going about their business. The interior was what you'd expect in a building of this kind. Nights and armor, standing silently to attention, clasping swords and pikes and steel

gauntlets, swords shields, flags and tapestries depicting scenes, long since passed, adorning its stone walls and high ceilings. He made his way to the manager's office, weaving through the throng of holiday makers who were snatching the last days of summer. Already, Dan noticed there was a chill in the air, and the days were getting shorter,

and shadows longer. Dan was a lifeguard at the hotel, but since he'd been thrown out of the apartment by his girlfriend Linda, he didn't have a place to stay. So what if he was having an affair? Big deal.

He hoped he'd found a solution to his situation. He reached the manager's office, and knocked on the thick oak door. Dan vaguely remembered being told this was originally a door in one of Henry VIII's palaces, but couldn't remember which one. Didn't care anyway.

A gruff voice came from the other side of the Pac-Mart door, ordering Dan to enter. Dan opened the door, and stepped into the manager's office. Mr. Torrance, the manager, sat behind a large oak desk. He was in his mid-50s and wore little reading glasses that sat at the end of his long nose.

He pointed to one of the two Louis XIII chairs that faced him, Dan sat in one. So, you want to stay here over the winter to look after this place. Mr. Torrance said, "Dark eyes peering over his glasses at Dan is, if he were an insect." Yes, that's right, sir. And answered, shifting uncomfortably under the manager's glare.

"You know, I don't like you very much," Mr. Torrance said.

The statement hung in the air like a bad smell.

“Dan stayed silent, a false smile plastered across his handsome features.”

But, sadly, no one else has come forward due to the incident we've had over the years. He didn't care about the weird happenings that occurred during the winter months, disturbances such as windows being left open, loud knocking on doors and mysterious singing echoing through the halls. He just needed a place to stay.

Since Mr. Campbell, the caretaker disappeared last winter, there's been no other people willing to stay here over the winter months, apart from you. I know this will suit you well, Mr. Robertson.

Listen to do all day, but sit around and do the occasional bit of work for a generous wage.

Dan said nothing, and continued with his fake smile. At last, the week was up, and Dan entered Castle Ridge with a rucksack across his broad back in a smile on his face.

“The sun was hanging low in a late September sky, its rays already weakened by the season.”

Soon, there would be no warmth from it, as the winter months took hold, and the cold this rain like a vengeful conqueror. All the guests had departed, and a few members of staff were milling around, saying their last farewells, as Dan strolled into the foyer, ignoring them as he passed by. He ascended the main staircase, taking two steps at a time.

As he was the only guest for the next five months, he could choose any of the 101 rooms

to sleep in. He chose the James 1 Royal rooms, where the famed English and Scottish monarch once stayed. Dan threw his rucksack upon the king's sizes for poster bed, and explored the luxurious rooms. The rooms consisted of the main bedroom, that was bigger than his old entire apartment.

This led into an on-sweet bathroom with a huge Victorian bath and rain for a shower.

“There were living quarters with a dining room table that could seat four, a wide bay window,”

overlooked the magnificent gardens, allowing the dying sunlight through, a massive flat-screen TV hung on the wood paneled wall in front of a plush sofa, two arm chairs, and a glass coffee table. Dan nodded in satisfaction as he took in all the luxurious surroundings. I can live with this, he thought happily.

Dan walked down the main Jacobian staircase, pausing to look out through the led-lined window, to catch a glimpse of the last of the members of staff to leave. He stood, watching like a ghost, as they walked across the gravel drive, their footfalls floating upon the slightly chilled, early evening breeze. He stood and watched as the last of the car's left, and his two-tone red fiesta was

the only one that sat quietly in the barren car park. Dan continued down the stairs and headed to the kitchen to make himself something to eat. When he reached the kitchen, he found that the head chef had made him a meal already, fried cod, thick cut chips, and peas, a quick reheating in the industrial microwave, and it was good to go.

Dan promptly threw it in the bin, no fried food for him. Dan had made sure they had stocked up on plenty of chicken, meat, and fish to keep his protein levels up, to maintain his muscular physique that all the girls loved him, some of the men too, he thought with a rice smile, it wasn't his fault that he was so irresistible. He sat up at one of the kitchen work surfaces and ate a meal he made from scratch, grilled

sirloin steak, medium rare, with broccoli, washed down with bottled mineral water. His duties were fairly mundane, do if you odd jobs and repairs and keep all the rooms clean and air them regularly. There'd be plenty of time to think, and be able to use the hotels facilities such as the gym and swimming pool.

Although Dan was sociable since COVID, he found himself enjoying being alone more. He looked at his phone, no signal. The hotel was situated in the craggy highlands of Scotland. These parts hardly had any mobile signal due to the environment and lack of phone masks. In the winter months, the hotel could be cut off completely by snow, so one had to be

prepared for anything in these hostile parts. After dinner, he walked through the many corridors and community areas, such as the huge dining room, the many tables and chairs hidden under crisp white dust covers. Their shapes stood like silent spectres as Dan walked past, his heavy footfalls echoing around the vast expanse.

The French windows that looked upon the gardens showed the sun had set, and the long shadows

Soon, it would be night.

“As the dimness turned to full darkness, Dan got out his torch, switching it on.”

He was told to minimize using the lights to save on electricity.

He would have ignored that order, but Mr. Torrance gleefully told him that if the energy bill went over more than 5% than it should do during the winter months, the difference would come out of his own wages. After his walk, Dan returned to his room and watched some TV before, retiring to bed. Dan was shocked to wake.

He checked his watch, the glowing numerals informing him that it was 3 a.m., the witching hour. Lying there, cold sweat coating his bare upper body and soaking the blankets of the king's size bed, Dan tried to think what had awoken him, he couldn't recall. He saw the crimson curtains that enclosed the foreposter bed, cutting him off from the rest

of the room, move slightly, and Dan's heart froze.

His fertile imagination made him think of long-dirty fingernails scratching at the velvet

“curtains as an unseen beast tried to find an opening.”

Dan slowly reached out, pulling the curtain back. Silvery light from a full moon shone through the lead lined windows of the bedroom, showing there was nothing there, Dan let out a shaky breath and brought a trembling hand to his sweat coated forehead. He let out a relieved laugh.

A thunderous banging on the thick wooden outer door sounded around the bedroom as loud as shotgun blasts. Dan let out a startled cry. The banging on the door suddenly stopped, as quickly as it began. Dan felt his heart beating within his muscular chest like a jackhammer, and he fought

the urge to hide beneath the bedclothes. Dan slowly climbed out of bed and walked to the now silent door. With a shaking hand he grasped the bronze handle, and pulled the door open.

“Dan looked into an empty hallway, there was nothing there but darkness.”

In puzzlement, Dan closed the door, ensuring it was locked. As he turned to go back to bed, voices sprang out of the darkness, causing Dan to cry out once more. The voices were coming from the living room. Unlegs that felt like they weren't his own, Dan walked into the living room, and found

the TV was now on. Dan reached for the controls that sat on the coffee table and switched it off. He stood in the darkness, wondering how the TV had switched itself on. Must have been pre-programmed to do that he mused. He'd sorted out in the morning.

He went back to bed. There were no other disturbances that night. Dan awoke the next day, and checked the TV, to find there was no pre-programmed alarm that he could find. He couldn't understand what had happened.

He did some tasks around the hotel, but mainly watched TV, and used the leisure faculties. His nights were undisturbed for over a month, when once more he was woken, of this time, by gentle singing.

At first, Dan thought he was dreaming, but within the womb of his curtain bed, he could

still hear the sweet singing, as if it had followed him from his dreams. Dan checked his watch, 3 a.m. He sat there and listened intently. It was indeed singing, and the voice sounded young and female. As if enchanted, Dan pulled back the heavy curtains and climbed out of bed.

There was a chill in the air, as the mid-November air blew in through the open bedroom windows. Dan hadn't recalled he'd opened them before going to bed that night. He followed the singing into the living room, and discovered both living room windows that overlooked the gardens were wide open. The curtains pulled back and gently blowing inwards.

He definitely hadn't opened these windows, they'd been closed and locked, the curtains drawn. He would have sworn by it. The singing sounded like it was coming from the gardens. Dan approached the windows and looked out.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw a nimble pale figure dancing along the path that ran between the hedgeros and flower beds. Dan rubbed his eyes and looked out again, but the figure remained. The singing continued, but he couldn't quite make out the words that didn't sound like English, maybe a foreign or an ancient tongue he thought.

As Dan looked down into the gardens, he could see the figure was of a young woman. Her supple naked body was bathed in pale moonlight. As the figure sang and danced, Dan felt himself grow hard within his pajama bottoms.

Dan saw the young female smile and back in him down with a slim pale hand.

She then continued singing and dancing.

“Dan rushed across the living room into the bedroom, his breathing coming in short bursts”

as his excitement mounted. Dan opened the front door and stared into a face of nightmares. The face twisted and bloody opened its mouth and screamed. Dan turned away from the grisly specter, his lust depleted. Dan felt himself falling as he tried to move away from the approaching ghoul.

Then, darkness greeted him. Dan awoke eyes snapping open and found himself lying on the bedroom floor with pale sunlight streaming through the closed bedroom windows. Dan must have fainted. Dan mumbled under his breath as he slowly got to his feet and staggered into the living room.

The windows overlooking the gardens were also closed and the curtains drawn.

Dan walked over to the windows and pulling the curtains back gazed out. The gardens were empty, no singing, nymph dancing naked among the flowers and hedgeros. Dan shook his head.

“He must be losing it, but the image of the girl in the horrendous figure of a man with”

a blood-wash face still lingered in his brain. He promised himself he'd lay off the brion crackers for a while. Another two weeks dragged on, and this hotel times seemed to go much slower than in the outside world. A day here could be two or three back home.

He'd been thinking of Linda recently in the apartment that they'd shared. He was missing her.

Maybe when this was all over he'd tried to patch things up, but in his heart he knew

he'd never be faithful. There were too many temptations in the world. He'd fallen asleep quickly as he had done a heavy workout in the gym before taking a hot shower and going to bed. He was awakened again by low singing.

“His watch confirming it was the witching hour once more.”

Dan felt his heart beating faster as he remembered the figure dancing in the gardens. Her nymph-like body pale in the moonlight. Quickly Dan climbed out of bed. The windows were once again wide open. The curtains blowing inwards by the winter breeze.

Dan grabbed his torch before walking towards the bedroom door that led out to the corridor. He hesitated for a brief moment as the image of that hideous face appeared once more in his mind's eye before it was pushed out by the image of the mysterious girl. He switched on the torch and opened the door to reveal an empty corridor. Cauchously Dan walked down the darkened corridor towards the staircase.

The singing seemed to be coming from downstairs. The beautiful voice echoing around the cold stone walls of the deserted castle. Excitement overriding any fears he may have propelled Dan onwards. He got to the bottom of the stairs and walked past the row of knights who stood like silent sentinals, watching him go by.

Dan's breathing quickened as he entered the huge dining room and saw the girl standing at the far end. Her hair, the color of autumn, swirled around her as she danced galey in the cavernous dining room. You shouldn't be in here.

He half-heartedly said, as he stared at the young girl, lost dancing in his eyes. Dan guessed it was a student who needed somewhere to live for a while, and a closed hotel was ideal. Either side of him stood the tables and chairs, shrouded by starch white sheets. Dan was so enthralled by the girl before him, that he failed to see the sheets begin to

move. The ins vision changed from the far away pale figure to a storm of white as the sheets shot off the furniture as if propelled by invisible hands, smothering him. Dan's excitement turned a panic as he battled against material, trying to slip the sheets like a swimmer trying to escape riptides.

Dan's head broke free from the sheets, crying out as he gasped for air. The sheets seemed to be tightening around his body, and he found himself falling to the floor. He rolled around, bumping into tables and chairs as he tried to escape the sheets, kicking and screaming he managed to escape and run out of the dining hall into the foyer. He'd lost his torch, but blind panic drove him on.

He ran past the suits of armor, and as he reached the stairs, the last suit of armor fell upon him. Dan screamed as he felt the heavy suit of armor, fall against his naked back, causing him to fall upon the stairs. With pure fear, ripping at his pounding heart, Dan turned and pushed the night away.

The clang of armor rang out in the foyer, like a deathnell in Dan's swore he felt

Dan scrambled to his feet, gripping the banister, but to his horror he felt the gauntlet clad hand gripped his ankle.

“Dan screamed in the darkness as he kicked the hand loose and ran of the stairs.”

He blindly ran along the corridor, bumping into walls and side tables as he desperately tried to get back to his room. The corridor seemed to be getting longer, as he raced along it, the sound of clanking armor ringing out behind him as if the suit of armor was pursuing him up the stairs.

Dan allowed a little cry of relief as he finally reached his room.

He rushed in slamming the door behind him, locking it. He leaned against the heavy door, eyes closed, his breathing coming in quick gasps. He strained his ears, trying to hear any sound on the other side of the thick wooden door. He couldn't hear anything. Then the door shook as if an army were trying to batter the door in.

Dan cried out, pushing his body up against the wood as it shook in its frame. Then the banging stopped, and silence rained once more.

“Dan tried to control his breathing as his heart hammered in his chest, and cold sweat”

ran down his back. Then out of the darkness, Dan heard another sound.

He was coming from the bathroom, a dripping noise, as if tiny drops of water were falling

to the floor. Dan peeled himself off of the door, and staggered to the on-sweet bathroom. The sound of dripping was louder here. With a shaky hand, he reached for the light-coord that dangled in the darkness, like a hangman's news, and pulled.

No light came flooding into the room. Darkness remained. Dan cursed and moved further into the bathroom toward the sound. His eyes were adjusting to the darkness, and he could seal it.

“The shower curtain was drawn, so Dan couldn't see within.”

With trepidation, he held his breath, and pulled the curtain aside to reveal an empty bath.

Dan let out a shaky breath, and almost laughed. Then the light came on and flickered. On the harsh strobe light, Dan felt the presence of the room, a smell reached his nostrils, a mixture of copper and off-meat. Dan didn't want to look but he was compelled to.

Stifley, he turned to face the mirror. That hideous face was staring out at him from the mirror. Dan felt the front of his pajamas go wet, a scream locked in his tight throat. The face smiled, revealing bloodstained teeth. Flash from its cheeks hung in ribbons, as if talon-like nails had ripped it from the bone.

The whiteness of its jawbone, shown through the core, and rotten flesh of the apparition. The face's left eye lay on one bloody cheek by its optic nerve. Dan couldn't move his eyes from the hideous face. The apparition was dressed in navy blue overalls, the denim ripped and bloody, like the material had been torn apart by a wild animal.

The apparition reached out with crimson hands, dripping blood upon the floor. It screamed, the most unnatural sound, mouth twisted and fury. Its tattie arms reaching out of the mirror towards Dan, its hideous torn face and body following close behind. Dan managed to move his fear racked body, and back away from the horror, releasing his

scream that resonated around the bathroom. Dan felt the blow to the back of his legs as they struck the bathtub. The force caused Dan to fall back into the bath, legs going up into the air as his head smashed into the tiled wall. The next thing Dan was aware of was lying in the bath, legs dangling over the tub

but dazed and confused. They light from the bedroom windows, streamed into the bathroom. As the horrors of the night before came flooding back, Dan looked up at the mirror, no hideous apparition grinning back in him. Dan slowly got out of the bathtub, a brutal headache pounding in the back of his skull. He touched the back of his head and felt the stickiness of concealed blood, wencing slightly

at the touch. He had to leave, getting out of the bathroom as quickly as he could, he threw some clothes on, grabbed his car keys and raced into the corridor, running down the stairs that were no sounds apart from the hasty footfalls that were his own. He vaulted over the suit of armor that lay at the foot of the stairs and raced outside.

The pale sun hung in the slate gray sky, and his damn got to the safety of his car, he began to slow and then stop. In the cold light of day, Dan started to doubt himself. Was it real?

get the full payment for Mr. Torrance for taking care of the place.

“What would he tell them that even spooked by a ghost? He'd never live that one down.”

For a moment, Dan stood by his car, weighing up the pros and cons of staying or going. In the end, he decided to stay, with his head hung low. He slowly walked back to the hotel. Another six weeks had passed, and no more incidents. As the days and weeks dragged on, Dan convinced himself it was all a product of an overdeveloped imagination, or present worries manifesting themselves into phantoms. It read somewhere that long-term loneliness

can have a negative impact on the mind.

He was in the gym tonight. The weather forecast on the TV had said there was a violent

storm approaching, and they weren't wrong. Even in here, Dan could hear the driving rain

“lashing at the walls like an invading army, and thunder rolling across the black and”

heavens like drums of war. He slammed his fist down on top the stop button of the treadmill, the belt coming to a halt. Yeah, Dan yelled. His voice echoing around the gym. He was pleased with himself for beating his own record. He jumped off the machine and told himself down. As he was catching his breath, taking a swig from a water bottle. He heard gentle singing. He followed the

sweet music, the tone, almost magical. It reminded him of a bedtime story as mum used

to read to him. When he was little of a man dressed in colorful rags, tempting the villages children away from their loving parents, using his magical flute. The singing seemed to

“be coming from the indoor swimming pool. Dan strolled through the door that led to the pool.”

The 50-meter pool lay out in front of him, low lights from the pool and the ceiling cast the surroundings and shadows. One wall of the pool area was glass, and through it, Dan could see the violent storm raging outside. The pool area was empty. The singing stopped. Then the lights went out. A bold of lightning cut through the black and skies, like a knife slash. It in that ghostly light, Dan saw the young woman once more. She stood naked

by the pool. Her lean body definitely pale. The dim lights in the pool and ceiling came back on. As Dan got nearer, he saw her breasts were full and legs long. Light freckles danced across a little button nose and below stunning emerald eyes. To Dan, those eyes seemed to hold an ancient knowledge, but that was impossible as they stared out of a face no older than 20. As Dan looked out and she turned and dived into the pool. Come join me, the

girl Cooed, hair fanning out like a fiery halo upon the surface of the water. Ignoring his better judgment, Dan stripped naked and dived into the pool. As he broke the water surface facing the girl, she wrapped slim arms around his neck. Dan moved into kiss those waiting full lips. She smiled, eyes burning with a hunger that Dan couldn't quite comprehend. Then tentacles burst out of her body, coiling around Dan like fibers. Dan stood in terror

as her lips peeled back, revealing an unnatural gaping mouth filled with razor-shark teeth. A movement by the pool side made Dan turn, he saw the ghastly figure of the torn man. It shook its head slightly, a single drop of blood trickled down one ripped cheek like a crimson tear. Dan sawn its bloody overalls, a name tag. It read, Mr. Campbell, caretaker. Dan looked back at the creature as he was dragged towards that gaping mouth and gnashing teeth and realized

how foolish he'd been, not to heed the warnings of the torn man. This week's episode is sponsored by the new supernatural horror, The Demon. Tom returns to the lakeside home where his father died, hoping to confront his past, but instead something beneath the water begins to answer. As his behavior grows distant and disturbing, his wife and loved ones are pulled into a nightmare that feels older than memory itself, blending

the psychological dread with the creeping inescapable horror, The Demon explores grief, possession, and the horrors we inherit. Some forces don't just haunt you, they consume you, watch the trailer and learn more now.

in my hometown, you will never see your grandchildren grow up.

“I live in a very young town. By young, of course, I don't mean that it's new. No, our people”

have lived here for generations, just not all together. If someone from the outside, it might sound a little odd, and as we are quite an understanding bunch, we get it. It is a strange concept. No, one that has proven be quite successful. No, the town itself is not young, but the inhabitants who get to live here are. Once we get to live in a community of progress. Fun, and of course, a little bit of love.

Not a single person in this place we call Milton as unemployed. They're how opportunities

for every individual. Poverty does not exist. There's never a lack of food or drink.

Despite the town's small size, we have lively nightlife, wonderful restaurants, and great bars. Hardly anyone is lonely. We're all peers in some way. No one is better than another. Yes, some jobs might be more powerful than others, but those who hold them are often quite visionary. We retrieve our energy exclusively from our noble resources. Big windmills stand tall in the field surrounding us. Behind windmills, there isn't much more than

a forest than we never cross. As behind it, we would find the other place. We call it sector B. There are two simple laws where we live, and when we abide by them, we're allowed to live a fruitful life, and a place that seems to be more advanced in the entire rest of the world, but not accessible that anyone who wasn't born on our ground. The first law is that you only live in sector A until you have children of your own. If you reach

a certain age, realize that children will not be a part of your future and decide not to adopt, then you move away. That part is an unspoken rule. Nobody will throw you over the gates, but if you don't add to the community, then you won't find work, and buying a house will be rather difficult as well. It's the social norm. Few leave, but most want to stay. As I said, life here is as close to perfect as it can get. When you do decide

to have or raise a member of the next generation, you only get to do so until they have children of their own or decide to leave town. As I said, the latter seldom occurs, partly because if they leave, they don't get to come back. And we see what the world outside looks like. It's dark and cruel. It's stuck in time in too many ways. Progress is seen as something to be feared, whereas here it's one of our core values. When you reach that

certain age and the time has come for you to see your first grandchild, you're asked to pack your bags and move to sector B. If you happen to have multiple children, you wait

for the last one to have a child of their own. The second laws for sectors A and B to never

mix. When you leave the first chapter, you're bound to the second. Life in the other sector is just as lovely, only more relaxing. Resources from the young part are shared,

“and life is therefore made even easier for a president. It sounds like punishment, but it's”

never a word. You work hard to deserve that piece. And even if you have to miss your kin for a while, they'll come and join you when their time is come. Some decide to have many children with large age gaps to ensure that they will spend as much time with them as they can. Others have one when they're very young and hope the time will come soon that they can enjoy an early retirement. I come from a traditional family, or at least

I was thought so. Ever since I was a teenager, my parents preached to me how wonderful it is to have children of your own. To see a young soul look up to you and grow up to be a child person. Don't give me wrong. It does sound nice in many ways. But I never saw myself having children.

“I feel in many ways I can hardly take care of myself. You should have seen the look on”

my parents' faces when they found out that I had a girl friend, a real serious relationship. Try to hide it for as long as I could because I knew exactly how they'd react. And I was nowhere near ready for that kind of pressure. Keeping secrets in and telling this small, however, is close to impossible. And when they

ecstatic as for parents didn't have the best of reputations. They had six children, and

“we're planning to have more as long as they biologically could. You're not marrying the”

family only the girl after all. It's fine. My mother's said with a fake smile. I rolled my eyes. Marrying? She's not much just dating. When I was a feeling to work out was my response back then. If you don't know it was great at all, but I was young and planned on not settling down anytime soon. It'd be things wouldn't work out. Maybe I'd date many more people.

Back then, I was a little cautious when it came to love. But the longer we were together,

why I started realizing that Fiona was the one. She was critical of living here. Well,

out of where we were, but of where we would be going one day. She couldn't imagine living with all those old people. I mean, we weren't used to any. I told her that we would be old too, then, but that didn't make the whole concept sound any better to her. She was similar to her parents in that way. Back then, I hadn't even told her that I wasn't

“planning on having children, although I believe we were in a silent agreement on that.”

We often joked about all the places we would visit if we ever got exiled. Unfortunately, life never goes as planned. My feelings were never as muddled as on the day Fiona told me she was pregnant. We were sitting in her parents' garden, watching her little brother play in the grass. We were alone and he was too young to understand why sister was smiling and crying at the same time. A child changes everything. Everywhere,

even more so, in Milton. Fiona's parents were happy for us. They would have time to see their grandchild for years before the youngest child had one of their own. My mother and father were crying tears that joy at first. It was all they ever wanted. They had been looking forward to the day they'd be moved to sector be all their lives until they laid

“eyes on their granddaughter and they knew they could never leave for voluntarily. If a child”

changes everything, so does a grandchild. The traditions were swiftly thrown overboard, and the tears of joy turned into tears of fear. My parents were picked up on a Monday and a van driven by Thomas Miller, who went to the same school as I did. He was one of the few chosen to work for the town committee at a young age. Thomas had lost his parents as a young child. They died in an accident. When we were little, he was almost like a brother

to me. My mom made two lunches for me to bring to school for years, one for each of us. As we grew older and Thomas was chosen to work for the committee, we lost touch. Thomas stayed behind when the two officers got out of the car and made their way to our front door. "Hours," as in Fiona and I, would now own the house. My father's hand was trembling when he opened the door. His eyes were bloodshot, and slept a second last night. Mom didn't

either. She helped my daughter and her arms the whole night, holding my hand at the same

time. I never believed that out of all people, my mom wouldn't be ready to say goodbye.

She loved the life she had in Sector A of Milton and couldn't wait for the next chapter. Ever since he received a letter that told them they'd be picked up soon, however, she'd spent every second fighting with my dad, who wasn't thrilled either, but was too scared to break any rules. "You wanted this," I heard him say yesterday. "You wanted this life where you were young. You can't change your mind now that you've grown out of it.

Ben will come and live with us soon enough. And shuddered at the thought, there was no way in hell I would ever leave my child and live in the other Sector. I doubted very much that Fiona was into that idea either. In two decades, three were possibly even four, would her granddaughter decides to leave. Even if she doesn't, who knows if we'll even be alive long enough to foresee her again?" I didn't hear much more of their conversation, but

Fiona and I had talked as well, and we knew we never wanted to be in the place my parents

were now. But now that we have brought a child into the world in Milton, there was no way for us to get out of it. I cried for the first time since I was a child when they guided

day. I tried to talk to the officers to tell them that we needed them just a little longer

“to help with the child, but it was no use. They're going to love the next chapter.”

Stay put, boy. One of them hissed at me. The other pushed me back. This was such a happy day. Why were they being violent? My gut was screaming as I tried to shout it on. I shouted at my parents that they couldn't leave, and that those bastards that they couldn't just take them. Body started trembling so much that I thought I'd throw up any second. This was wrong. This was just wrong. These people were smiling. Smilingly, shells with no emotion

on the inside. Smiling gladly while taking my devastated parents away. Only Thomas looks serious. He's leaning against the side of the car, smoking the cigarette while avoiding

eye contact entirely. It was an odd sight as I'd never seen him smoke before. That moment

“I was distracted by much more important things. Of course, but as they finally drove”

away and the only sound we could hear was my little girl crying. You notice that Thomas had left something behind. Packed a cigarette on the ground. Now seeing him smoke was a little unexpected, but throwing a pack of cigarettes on the ground was impossible. No one ever littered in Milton, especially not someone working for the committee. If I hadn't noticed or if it hadn't been such a strange sight, maybe I would have continued my life in ignorance.

But I didn't. I picked it up before anyone else saw it. I don't know why. Maybe it was just a gut feeling. But I went back into our house to open the package instead of throwing it away. There were no cigarettes inside. But something else. Polaroids. There weren't me. And the quality was bad. But it was obvious what I was seeing on them. Dead bodies. Lifeless bodies hanging in a row. With cuts so they'd be empty to their blood. They even

recognized a few faces. Neighbors would welcome grandchildren recently, and were taken away to live in the other sector by in the forest. Only now did I realize why our resources

were so full. Why we had so much. Why even the ones working for the committee were always

young. I don't know how brainwashed they were, but it seemed to be alright with them. I understood why we had so much. We were not sharing with the elderly. There was no perfect place for their retirement. When they finished doing their work, they were disposed of. Maybe they were moving on to a better place. But it was certainly not, sector B. 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 comments, share a light 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 of the author.

Imagine a city unlike any other, simmering 300 years in a rock and scum bow to battery

“versus devotion. Catholicism, confession is anonymous versus Voodoo. I think I've then made”

a deal with the devil. What's you call life? And what I call death? It's a mysterious crossroads where the denizens of this world and others. He is a trickster and I'm sure whatever he brought back from the world of the dead was a one-way trip. And for Detective Frank Dufra, we'll see you again. And Nicky Goodluck, this will be a dark ride. Welcome to New Orleans, babies.

Listen to something wicked on Spotify, Apple Podcast or wherever you enjoy listening.