My Dog Was Lost For Three Days. What Came Back Wasn't My Dog | Creep Cast

Martha listens to her favorite band all the time.

In the car,

gym,

even sleeping.

So when they finally went on tour, Martha bundled her flight and hotel on Expedia to see them live.

She saved so much, she got a seat close enough to actually see and hear them.

Sort of.

You were made to scream from the front row.

We were made to quietly save you more.

Expedia, made to travel.

Savings vary and subject to availability, flight inclusive packages are at all protected.

Charlie Sheen is an icon of decadence.

I lit the fuse and my life turns into everything it wasn't supposed to be.

He's going the distance.

He was the highest paid TV star of all time.

When it started to change, it was quick.

He kept saying, No, no, no, I'm in the hospital now, but next week I'll be ready for the show.

Now, Charlie's sober.

He's gonna tell you the truth.

How do I present this with any class?

I think we're past that, Charlie.

We're past that, yeah.

Somebody call action.

AKA Charlie Sheen, only on Netflix, September 10th.

Welcome back to Creepcast.

Today we're covering a short one, albeit we're not going to stretch it out too long.

I hear the little hens in the back babbling right now.

I'm talking about how we're going to stretch this out.

But today, we're doing a story called My Dog Was Lost for Three Days.

What came back wasn't my dog.

I love the title.

Can I just say that?

Can I be so bold?

It's a good title.

It's a good title.

We're also riding off of the high from last week's episode.

Last week's was a banger.

It was great.

It was a fan suggestion.

You all killed it.

So this one's another fan suggestion this time for Twitter.

So let's see if you guys can go two for two or if you are absolutely going to bomb right here.

Dog water.

Also, I shaved.

Suggestion.

Also, I shaved.

Did you shave your mustache?

I did.

No, I still have the mustache.

I shaved.

That's all that's on the Reddit, dude.

People love the mustache.

They're looking for mustache right.

They're not right.

A lot.

Oh, no.

They like the mustache.

Also, feedback.

My wife keeps calling me a cop.

She keeps saying I look like a cop.

You're a fed, dude.

It's just horrible.

This is a hoodie we're dropping in November.

Black Friday memes.

Hold on.

I got mine.

I laid it over here.

That wasn't like the chair.

Jesus.

Who up creeping they cast?

And it has a little creep cast meme on

the sleeves.

It looks very swag, very hot.

I'm wearing mine.

It's creepin' they cast.

It's very, very, very cute, very swag.

I like it.

It's nice.

So, you know, if you want any updates on that, like I said, or as we said before, too,

the story recommendation for today came on our Twitter.

So feel free to follow our Twitter, that kind of stuff.

And also, if you're listening,

watching this on YouTube.

Subscribe.

Huh?

Be sure to like and subscribe.

Like and subscribe, please.

But if you're listening to this or watching this on YouTube, maybe consider watching it or listening to it on Spotify or Apple Podcasts, where we are desperately crawling for the top 10.

If you guys can guess into the top 10 of Spotify, I'll do a backflip.

At the time I'm looking at it right now, we are exactly one spot behind Ben Shapiro.

We have been battling Ben Shapiro for far too long.

We need to leave him behind.

Leave him behind.

We're probably 41 in the world, I think, or at least the United States.

41 English, 41 of English-speaking podcasts.

Not bad.

Not bad at all.

It's pretty high.

We're like 10 spots ahead of

Shane.

What's his name?

Shane Gillis of his podcast.

So that's pretty good.

That's a pretty popular one.

We're doing all right.

I just want to say, two weeks away from Creepcast Live, dude.

We are.

Very excited.

We're starting off in the Boston area, and then we're heading down to New Orleans, and then we head over to Phoenix, and then we end it all in L.A.

Very excited to see all of you.

I feel like we should have some kind of ground rules.

Should we have any ground rules?

Any ground rules?

Don't molest

me.

Do it to Hunter.

Here's a ground rule for me, dude.

I don't fucking want.

Let me think.

I was going to say,

I don't want any arter gifts, but I actually would very much like that.

Look, here's the thing.

Here's what I found out on the first tour.

The art of gifts are greatly appreciated, but I'm living out of a carry-on during the whole tour.

I have no way to transport it, right?

So

if it is a large amount,

it just becomes a thing, right?

Now, luckily, the last tour, I had a friend who lived nearby who I gave it to, and he shipped it to me.

So that's helpful.

But it adds layers, right?

So

just be mindful.

Here's mine.

Here's mine.

Don't be a fucking psychopath.

How about that?

Guess what?

Guess what?

Streisan effect.

Guess what's going to happen now?

Well, it's not the Streisan effect.

This is people.

They're going to be like, oh, see, I was planning on being a a crazy mess sit there politely enjoy your show then leave that's my that's that's the common courtesy you can at least give me

and then you can bug him i don't care about him you can do whatever you want to him

We want to take a quick break from the show to tell you about today's sponsor.

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That is zocdoc.com/slash creepcast or zocdoc.com/slash creepcast to get in on this incredible offer today thank you so much to zoc doc for sponsoring the episode it really does mean the most and now a word from hunter this episode is written by chewing skin uploaded nine years ago so this is this is some primo

you know 2015 era

r slash no sleep

those are the this is it dare i say the golden years so i'm looking forward to it right in the thick of it um and it seems that Shoeing Skin, I'm trying to see.

It looks like they've done other stuff as well.

I'm trying to see.

I'll find more information put at the end.

But there's definitely, they at least have some posts on R slash No Sleep, right?

Right.

It seems to be.

They have one called Like My Grandma Lived Under the House, which sounds like another great title.

I love that, dude.

My grandma lives under my house, too.

So we'll see.

We'll see how this story goes.

We'll see how the story goes.

There could certainly be.

What I really want to happen with a lot of these stories is people hear it.

They're like, oh, that's cool.

And then they go check out the rest of the author's stuff.

Or if the author has a book, they support them there.

That goes a really long way.

so i know they appreciate it we certainly appreciate it so yeah if this story is cool be sure to check them out that is chewing skin on reddit which for one is a fun name of a horror author yeah chewing skin rules it's a fun name yeah goes hard all right let's start this let's get into it

my dog was lost for three days what came back wasn't my dog it was a cat it was a cat You know it's weird when you said, let's start it.

Anytime I like go to eat food, I always pray before I eat, right?

And then just then when you were like, okay, let's start it, I felt the need to pray like this was a meal.

Is it because I look like a snack?

Sure.

If that's, if that's what you want this to mean,

you do that.

Okay, anyway.

As a kid, I was raised in a small fishing community on the eastern side of Canada, surrounded by the Gulf of St.

Lawrence and the Boreal Forest.

The entirety of the land was close to 4,000 foot square with an even smaller number of residents sprawled out over Main Street.

The main road running straight through our little town, farming houses were spread widely between areas of trees that were changed to domestic residential homes when agriculture stopped being profitable.

In total, our community is surrounded by a vast expanse of ocean and a seemingly endless barrage of trees that spread over 55% of Canada's entire country.

I spent most of my life hunting in those woods, so you can imagine my joy when my parents got me a hunting dog.

What was that noise?

That was like a growl.

No, I didn't.

No, I didn't.

I didn't.

You ever have a hunting dog?

My family did stuff like that.

I know, like, the kind of hunting I did as a kid was always like deer hunting or like turkey hunting.

You don't really need a dog for that.

We did a lot of hunting dogs.

Oh, you did a lot of pheasant hunting?

Yeah.

So that

pheasant and duck and stuff.

So we had a, I could catch her.

Basically.

Oh, okay.

And my grandpa.

Did you have one or did you have like several?

Well, we had one.

We had one.

And then my grandpa, who had a stroke, he would sit in this electric wheelchair.

His fucking mouth would be open.

His eye is blind in one eye.

And he fucking shot the dog in the head.

And that was really traumatizing.

He did it.

Like on accident?

Yeah.

Well, I would assume so.

I mean, the man, I don't know why he had a gun in his hand.

I was too young to really process that this was a horrible thing, but no.

Also, sorry, trigger warning, dog death.

A little late for that.

Hold on.

You were, were you there?

Yeah, I was right next to

you.

I was probably seven.

You were seven years old sitting next to your beloved hunting dog and your uncle, your grandfather, uncle, what'd you say?

My grandpa.

Your grandpa just blew its brains brains out right next to you.

Yeah, well, not, not, it's, I mean, it shot him in the head.

Yeah.

Did it, okay.

I mean, I'm just letting you know what happened.

I was just wondering.

That's a lot.

I mean, it was, it was a traumatic event.

Yeah, I had a hunting dog, but you're like, when I was seven, my grandpa.

Wait, so did he shoot it on purpose or did he just have a gun in his.

He was just holding a gun in his wheelchair as he was like disabled from a stroke.

Okay.

Yeah.

And so it could have, it might as well have been you that got shot.

It was just like an accident.

Could have very easily happened.

Let me just tell you that.

Could have happened.

It was sad.

I feel like this is going to just bum everybody out.

We should probably just not even include that.

No, you should include it.

I think that that is that that has to go in the episode.

That is a legendary hunter confession.

That was just a confession.

It just doesn't happen to me.

The story mentioned a dog, and you're just out of nowhere.

Like, I was seven years old.

My grandfather.

First off, they said hunting dog.

We've experienced other dogs in the show, and that story has never been relevant, but now it is.

Yeah, because the word hunting dog was a flashback for you.

It was like a trigger phrase.

It sent you back.

It literally was a trigger phrase.

That's true.

Gosh, that's not wrong.

Do you think, hold on, hold on.

Would you, um, would you just, I don't know, hypothetically say that

maybe that potentially had some effect on your development that led you to where you are now, perhaps, perchance.

No, I don't think so.

It definitely is as creepy as you going to find dead bodies or whatever, like you said earlier in the first episode.

Yeah, but I never found one.

You were looking.

So it's like, it's different.

Yeah, I was looking, but that you were just a seven-year-old, like, playing with Legos, like, oh,

then, like, you're like Fido, your best friend, is executed by your grandfather, right?

Not my best friend, friend, first off.

The dog, I'll be honest, was very mean, was not a fun dog.

I'll be honest, no tears were really shed.

It was scary.

It haunted me.

I was scared in the moment, but I can tell.

Okay.

That was just a lot.

Okay, I'm not going to

pride you about that anymore in the first video.

Yeah, I'm not going to prime you about that one anymore.

That felt kind of rough, but you have to leave it in the episode.

That's non-negotiable.

So anyway, Sandy was a Shetland sheepdog.

While they were more fit to be herding and tracking sheep over grassy plains rather than rabbits and deer through dense forest, it didn't stop me from taking him with me on every excursion I possibly could.

Sandy had been by my side for enough hunting trips that he grown accustomed to waking up just before breaking daylight and, on a few occasions, helped track down small game like squirrels and rabbits through considerably large areas of forest.

Sandy wasn't my property and wasn't treated like he belonged to me.

Sandy was a member of the family, my best companion and my truest friend.

That was until my grandfather shot him in the head while I said...

You too?

Small world.

That was just a big story for me to just like forget about all at once.

I apologize.

Okay.

I think fondly back on all the times he'd sit in the front seat of the truck without being told, ready to go for a walk in whatever part of the forest I took him to.

I can honestly say that there will never be a dog that will fill the void Sandy left in my life.

I find that dog lovers relate to that sentiment more than others.

It was October 30th, the first day of deer hunting season.

I had been talking with my family about taking Sandy, my honey gear, and some essentials to one of the cabins my grandfather owned in his heyday.

Uh-oh, we're introducing a grandfather.

This is actually becoming

unveiling to be something horrible.

One of the cabins my grandfather owned in his heyday off an unmarked road a few hundred miles into the wilderness for a few days.

This was met with a lot of protesting, but nothing could stop me from getting in sometime looking for wild game in an area that wasn't already picked clean by illegal hunters earlier on in the month.

Everything was packed into the old blue ford, Sandy included, and a few hours of driving later we were setting up camp in one of my grandfather's secluded old cabins.

Here's where things get screwed up.

Sandy, I'm so, so sorry.

This, this,

like,

is this my life?

What happened to you?

Good God.

It's pretty close.

We were going pheasant hunting in Kansas.

Yeah, exactly.

We're going

pheasant hunting in southern Missouri.

I'm like, grandpa?

Is that you?

Grandpa.

My seven-year-old cousin watched this unfold.

He now talks about the grossest, most disturbing things he can online.

He's extremely respected.

Uh-huh.

You want me to read the text you sent me earlier?

Which one?

About you going to the bathroom.

Why do you have to shame me?

Can I not just talk with my friend?

Yo, sir, here's the thing, too.

You only responded with okay to it.

Yeah,

what other response do you want me to have to that?

I don't know, a conversation?

A conversation

on Twitter trying to shill for disaster relief efforts for the Appalachian Mountains, I would have tweeted that screenshot.

Well, but what I don't want to happen is some like FEMA workers, like, oh, maybe we can get aid.

And then they look at my Twitter and they're like, never mind.

It wasn't that bad.

I was just telling you something honest that was happening in my life, dude.

Okay.

All right.

I'm just going to keep reading.

I had spent most of the time of my life.

There's a lot of the, I don't I can't tell if I'm just like dyslexic today or if some of the sentences have looped phrasing like that a lot like

most of the time of my life

I'd spent most of the time of my life being in the wilderness There were only a handful of times that things had gotten weird for me But usually everything can be explained with scientific reason That's why I brushed off Sandy's weirdness on the first few nights, chalking it up to the nervousness of a dog that's capable of hearing the far-off noises of various coyotes, wolves, bears, and moose.

This was untouched territory, of course.

There'd been plenty of time for wildlife to set up camp here, too.

The first night was fairly normal.

I'd set up Sandy's bed in the corner of the living room, next to the TV that looked like it came out of the early 90s.

I figured I'd give Sandy the option to have some place to lay down for a while, despite the fact that he slept curled up with me nine times out of ten.

Close to ten at night.

Sandy looked straight at the wooden door and whined.

I hate that

when dogs do that,

there's nothing that pisses me off more than when you're like laying in bed, maybe you're a little scared, and then your dog's just like sitting straight up looking at a wall.

Yeah, and you're like, So, what are you looking at?

What could you possibly be looking at?

Hey, hey, exactly, yeah, come here, come here, and they don't respond to you at all.

Come here, yeah, and they're just like,

Do you know that painting?

Uh,

it's the dog looking at the empty door.

I don't think so.

It's some classic, like, people use it a lot.

I see it referenced in media all the time.

All the time.

What was that?

Am I French now?

This one.

Oh, yeah.

Yeah, that's a good one.

Yeah,

I like this, but it captures that awful feeling of

like when a dog is freaking out over You're like, all right, well, I was going to go to sleep.

Yeah, not anymore.

Fuck that.

No, absolutely not.

I figured he needed to piss and opened the door to let him out, not worried about having my best friend stray too far from me.

Instead, he sat just inside the door, looking out at the forest edge beyond the path.

I too stood and looked for a few minutes before deciding he had just heard an

heard an errant critter close to the cabin.

That is a I like that phrasing, but I don't think I've seen that at all.

An errant critter.

Neither have I.

Errant critter.

I'll be honest, I don't even know what the fuck errant means.

I think that means like irreverent, like

in my head, errant means like a renegade or like.

Errant.

Erring or straying from the proper course or standards.

Okay, yeah.

So reckless on its own, whatever.

An errant critter close to the cabin.

The rest of the night was fairly normal, and Sandy slept with me fine.

The second night, I chalked the weirdness up to Sandy's stress.

Earlier in the day, we had been walking a few miles through the woods beyond the house, and I thought I heard the sound of twigs cracking under something heavy.

I hoped it wasn't a moose, because my shotgun wouldn't have stood a chance, but something.

But, okay, but something changed in Sandy that I didn't pay close attention to at the time.

He hunched himself on his hind legs, his front pressed close to the ground.

His mouth pulled up over his teeth and he growled towards nothingness.

I figured we'd try hunting again later, if whatever it was had left and should he be feeling up to it.

But once we were inside, he didn't want to move.

Even when I tried to get him to go outside and do his business, he sat at the door and cried.

wailing at me to let me know he didn't want to go out there.

I didn't pressure him.

If he pissed on the floor, so be it.

Sandy never acted up before.

I could excuse an accident or two if he really didn't want to be out there.

It must have been a bear, I thought, before locking the door and calling it a night.

The third night is where things went to hell, no sleep, and I still don't fully understand what happened.

Sandy didn't eat all day.

I managed to shoot a rabbit in the early morning when Sandy decided he didn't want to be outside any longer than he had to and retired inside for the day.

I cooked it up, threw a little gravy on it, and gave it to my dog.

I didn't do this all the time, but I figured now was a special occasion and maybe a treat would put him in a better mood for another walk the next day.

Sandy didn't touch it.

He didn't so much as sniff it.

Instead, he sat on my side on the couch, watching the doorway intently.

I tucked him under one of my arms and he laid his head on my lap, eyes still locked on that door.

Close to three hours of watching Granny VHS tapes on an outdated television set, Sandy started crying, hugging himself close to my body.

This is where my judgment took me down the wrong path for the first time of many.

It must sound silly, being my dog's protector, rather than my dog being mine, but this was my family.

I figured if there was something out there that was scaring Sandy so bad, then it was my job to do something about it.

I loaded my 410, opened the door, stood in the doorway, and waited.

I must have waited at least a half hour, staring into nothing.

There's barely any sound, save for the faint buzz of insects and leaves rustling in the cold autumn wind.

Moose aren't elegant creatures, and if it were a moose, I would have heard it coming.

Around the 40-minute mark, Sandy took off like a shot into the darkness of the trees beyond the path, barking wildly.

I started to get worried, despite my knowledge that my dog isn't entirely helpless in the wilderness.

There were still bigger animals that would have liked to take a bite out of him if there wasn't a lot of food for the winter.

Heard Sandy's bark fade away in the distance and then stop altogether.

Oh, that sucks.

Yeah,

R.I.P., Sandy.

You must have ran into Hunter's grandfather.

No, no, no.

In his mobility scooter out there.

Yeah,

for some reason.

Like the wheel's going wrong.

What kind of, not to get too graphic into it, but what kind of gun was he holding?

Because it's more insane if the guy who like can't move half his body has like a 12 gauge.

He had a deer rifle.

Come on, man.

So he can't move half his body, but he's in an electric wheelchair with like a full scoped like bolt action rifle across his leg yeah

he can't even lift that why why does he have that a man has pride at least so that's what i i saw that's what they told him

uh were you guys at like a range or something or was this just at the

plot of land okay and people were shooting guns yeah well people were hunting the pheasant and stuff and like probably like no okay probably like random shit too like i mean

rabbits or whatever or just even just shooting at like trees and stuff because in my mind you're in like the living room and he's like, I ain't putting it down.

It's not a chambered

finger on the trigger in the house.

Okay.

Yeah.

Yeah, that's rough.

Okay.

Anyway.

Also, I just want to say that's one of my nightmares of like, I'm looking at something.

I'm kind of creeped out.

You're looking into the thick blackness of the night.

And all of a sudden, your dog, just like a giant dumbass, starts barking and running into the darkness where you can't even.

you know, you can't see him.

And then just thinking that, oh, they're gone forever.

That's like a legitimate nightmare of mine.

Yeah.

I think, too, like,

so I

like the story so far.

One thing I wish it had a little bit of was a note of fear on the author's part or our narrator.

Because,

like, I consider myself someone who's like pretty comfortable in the woods, stuff like that.

You know, I go camping around it all the time.

But even if I'm in like a tent or a cabin, like with just a couple people in the middle of nowhere, if something kind of strange happens like we hear a weird noise or a dog gets freaked out or something a bit of uneasiness sets in even with someone who's comfortable with it just by the unknown just because you know what might be out there you know so far the narrator's kind of just been like yeah the dog's been weird and like he's

there's been a lot of fear on their behalf I think I kind of read it as he's a bit weirded out I think that I think that there could be a bit more fear but I think too so far I think he's just justifying it as like oh animals are outside my dogs just being weird but I do think that it's it I think it's getting there it's building towards that I think at least the last couple paragraphs he has I think it's put him on an unease he might not he may have not directly said it but just from some of the phrasing it seems like I would say he's generally I wouldn't say scared or freaked out but I think he's unnerved at least Yeah, a little bit.

I guess more so it's the standing outside for half an hour.

I think I'd be like I would never do that.

I would never visit.

I would never be so bold no no no no would never be so bold i don't even think i can think of a situation where i would ever do that for anybody i don't think i would when we when we were at uh when i was doing the um the aid stuff at north carolina we had to do night watch on the equipment because for one animals can get into it but also there's a lot of looting so we took shifts for who watched like the stuff through the night so i'm like i'm surrounded by like at least 30 people why would you need to watch if it were for looters if there's a guy who walked up he's like can i ask him this i'd be like i sure

well it's it's people are stealing medication and stuff like that for all right what if he's got what if he's got a headache i love having it

hey i need all of your no i wouldn't give them all but i'd be like you know here's a couple pills dude fucking god damn your feet are probably wet rough time man got wet socks wet shoes i'm like damn here's a towel and here's some advil or some oxycontin i don't know

rough pumpkins right now for everybody the concept of uh stealing from an aid station is pretty wild there was one aid station down the street from us that got held up at gunpoint and another one that got held up at knife point

um it's like you can just get in line like why are you why are you pointing guns at people you can just it's tumultuous times that's why yeah that's why to me i would i would put it all in a raccoon trap

That way, that way

a human could easily get to it, but a raccoon would they would fumble and they would get caught.

So that's how I would delineate it.

It'd be an honor system, is how it would be, which I think is always good business.

But to the point I was saying, like we were, you know, the property was like pretty middle of the woods.

So even then with a bunch of people there, like whenever I'd get like the outskirts of the camp at night, I still get that like instinctive like

noises in the woods and I can't see what's out there.

That makes me uneasy.

I think you get snapped back to the reality of the situation

when

you're sitting out there and it's just pitch black and there's no noise except like faint cracks.

I think it's impossible to not be unnerved of like, ugh, like something's watching.

Yeah, you have to get freaked out a little bit.

I think it's just human.

Yeah.

So I waited hours standing in the doorway with my shotgun cocked and ready to put down whatever it was that was waiting in the woods.

It was then that a man in a mobility scooter rolled towards me.

Leave my

disease, Grandpa alone.

I can't.

That's too wild of a story to not bring up.

I waited hours for Sandy to come back to the house.

I waited until the sun was cracking through the trees, and then I waited until that night, sitting on my porch step, feigning off sleep deprivation to see my dog come back.

Sandy did come back, but not for another three days.

Fog had rolled in at that point, and it was getting darker.

The night painting the sky a navy blue.

Tracking over the last few days proved futile, and I started to get worried that I need to leave and find more provisions to last me the next few nights.

I couldn't leave Sandy up there, lost in the woods, cold and probably hungry.

The thought that he might be waiting out there for me to find him and bring him back home was distressing enough.

I was packing the bag that hung on the coat rack next to the door when

with what I'd need for the next stage trip.

I figured tomorrow would be the last day before I'd go into town and see if my father would help me find Sandy.

he was retired he was a retired grain man but i was sure if i brought up sandy's name he'd be more than willing to help me search for him

thankfully sand

i'm

i'm sorry

i just uh this is a visual of just a guy

a half paralyzed man on a mobility scooter you know what

just stalking through the woods at night executing any animal heads.

I'm getting cross.

I'm bringing my mom into this.

You're bringing your mom into this.

What do you mean you're bringing your mom into this?

I'm letting you know right now.

Hello?

Mom?

Yes.

Isaiah is making fun of Grandpa Ernest and how he shot our dog, Roger.

Can you tell him that

it wasn't that big of a deal?

Yeah, it was a huge deal.

i feel like you almost got shot no no

he was fine hello hello hello she can't hear me she can't hear this

can you hear me she can't she she can't hear you isaiah just what i mean they wasn't what happened to him after the fact

earnest hang on one second

Well, this is not going as planned.

Okay, sorry.

I'm at work.

What'd you say?

What happened to Grandpa Ernest after that?

Oh, we put his ass in a home.

Because because he was shot because he shot the dog yeah he's done he's done yeah he's done how many years did i know he's blind i mean that this is when i was like seven but how yeah did he did he die in the nursing home or did you guys at least take him out

i think we took him out like once but yeah he ended up dying there

Well, this is a tragically sad story.

It is sad.

And, you know, I just say, don't shoot your animals.

Well, I thought it was an accident.

Was it not an accident?

No, I don't think so.

Oh, my God.

Okay.

Well, this is completely taken away.

You were young.

You didn't know.

Okay.

No.

All right.

Well, this is backfired completely.

I love you, Mom.

I have to go.

Hold on, hold on.

Ask if

you were to.

She's gone.

This memory is completely ruined.

I thought it was an accident.

It was on purpose.

You've been trying to downplay it the whole episode.

Your grandfather shot that dog on purpose.

And he got got thrown in a home where he died oh my gosh that oh my gosh it's not funny it's funny how you like remembered none of it and it's way more tragic i didn't

oh my gosh i didn't know i didn't know oh that that could not have gone any

editor you cut that out right now you cut you leave you all of that you cut that out

if you do not leave that in i'm quitting the podcast.

That is the greatest.

That is the funniest thing that has ever happened on this show.

Oh, my gosh.

You going from just a normal event, like, oh, yeah, it was this accident, into like, oh, we were afraid your grandfather would kill you or something.

So we put him in a home and he died there.

You know, this is a podcast about.

telling scary stories here.

We're deviating too far from the script here.

We got to just get back to the story.

Oh my gosh.

That was, yeah, that is staying in the episode.

That is the fun.

That is the wildest thing that has ever happened on the show.

Oh, my gosh.

We are going to hear.

You are going to hear about Roger until you're wet.

I waited hours.

I waited hours standing in the doorway, I believe is the next line.

Get me out of this hell, please.

No, no, I remember.

Okay, so remember the jokes I was making about like he's out here in the

real now.

No, no, it is.

That is the new villain.

That is up there with Mr.

Wellers.

I am only hearing...

It's fucked up because you've planted this seed now.

And now in the woods, all I'm hearing is a mobility scooter cracking leaves and cracking branches rolling through the darkness, random pop shots going off in the middle of the night.

And now I feel bad for Sandy.

I'm imagining like he's out here in the woods and you hear me

like the scooter just going through.

Okay.

All right.

Here we go.

Let's get back.

We're back into the story.

People came to listen to a scary story.

Let's give it to them right now.

Boom.

We're back in.

I waited hours standing in the door with my shotgun cocked and ready to put down whatever it was that was waiting in the woods.

I waited hours for Sandy to come back to the house.

I waited until the sun was cracking through the trees.

And then I

then I waited until that night, sitting on my porch step, feigning off sleep deprivation to see my dog come back.

Sandy did come back, but not for another three days.

Wait, I read, I read all this.

Yeah, not for another three days.

That would fuck me up, dude.

At what point do you?

I mean,

what's weird is I feel like in the morning I would go searching, right?

Or would you even I would probably go that night with a flashlight walking around trying to find him.

Yeah, yes, yeah.

What are what

Why the fuck are you giggling?

Okay.

No.

All right.

I love dogs.

Okay.

I love dogs.

I cannot be beholden

to my family.

All right.

It's just you calling your mom to make it better.

I thought I needed clarification that it wasn't a big deal.

It backfired immediately.

All right?

It was a deal.

All right i shot myself in the foot immediately here oh my gosh

i'm sorry that's just that's that's gonna take a while to get out of my system thankfully sandy came back before i'd even finished that train of thought i saw him from the window on the path that led down to the main road a few dozen feet away from the house Normally, I'd hear him scamper to the doorway and pause the door a few times, eager to come in, but this was different.

I could see the reflection of his eyes as green pearls.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

Let me redo that.

I could see the reflection of his eyes as green pearls in the murder.

What?

Come on.

We got to get through this or people are going to get mad at us, dude.

I'm telling you, we have to get through this.

When I read reflection, my mind filled in his eyes.

I could see the reflection of the mobility scooter getting closer.

The dog wasn't even looking at him, dude.

It was from behind.

Come on.

This story has completely been derailed.

People are going to be so fucking mad at us.

I am sorry.

If there is an audio listener, I am so sorry for this fucking horrible.

I'm a horrible person.

I'm sorry.

Here we go.

It is not funny that a dog lost his life.

I love dogs.

It's just funny that that hunter was witness to all of this and processed none of it until five minutes ago.

Oh, man.

Ah.

Okay.

Just the image of like a guy who's paralyzed but still has a rifle for some reason.

Oh, okay.

It doesn't help that in my head, you at seven years old is just you with the exact same head and facial features you have now, just on a smaller body.

Like,

okay.

I could see the reflection of his eyes as green pearls in the murky fog that had swamped the house.

For a moment, I thought it might be an animal, but the outline of his body in the wisp of thick, low-lying clouds was unmistakable.

Still, despite myself, I hesitated.

There was something different about his body body language.

I stared out the window for a few more moments before reason overcame my gut instinct.

Sandy could be hurt, I thought,

or worse.

I flung the doorway open, but he didn't come right away.

Instead, he stood there, watching me intently.

When he didn't move, I whistled to him.

Here, Sandy.

I coaxed him towards the house.

Here, boy.

The way he moved was different.

It was as though his hips had been dislocated, and the angle of his paws changed direction with every step, as though he'd forgotten how to walk properly.

His head was bowed to the ground, but his teeth weren't bared.

The only way I could describe the look he gave me was sheepish, like he'd just gotten into something he wasn't supposed to, and I yelled at him for it.

I thought he might hurt himself hopping up onto the elevated step if he dislocated his hips, but he did just fine.

His back half swung a little, oddly enough, and his paws almost folded underneath himself.

But he didn't go sprawling.

He sat on the step and didn't take his look off me.

It wasn't until I had moved from the doorway completely, opened the door wide, and waited for him to walk in that he moved.

Straight to his bed.

He didn't stop at my hand, stiff at me.

He didn't wait for pets or jump up on me like he used to.

It was straight to his bed where he sat and watched me for quite some time afterwards.

I returned to the movie at hand.

I I galled him a few times, but he didn't respond.

His ears didn't so much as raise to the sound of his voice or the pat of my hand on the worn-out couch beside me.

I'd missed my buddy, but I wasn't about to move him physically towards me.

There was something about him that said, I shouldn't have let him in.

But I chalked it up to silliness, and a few hours later I went to bed.

The more I think back on it, I don't recall him blinking once.

He sat there like a statue, And when I turned off the light, I could still see the reflection of Jade Green following me as I went into my room and shut the door.

Hmm.

Do you think that you would immediately, if he was being weird like that?

I would just assume that he was extremely hurt.

I,

yeah, but if he was extremely hurt, I would check on him.

You know, like if my dog came back and he was, for one, I always like, physically harass my dogs, right?

Especially if I'm seeing them like, who's your good boy?

And I'm like, you know, like rolling them around and scratching them.

So I would have done that.

But if it was like real standoffish and strange and I thought he was hurt, I would like check him out.

You know, I'd walk up and be like, how's it, how are your paws?

How's your...

What's up?

I'm surprised he didn't do that with how weirdly he was walking.

It's like, yeah, the dog walked up and went to his bed, but I still feel like anytime my dogs ever like walk up with a limp or they're doing something, we usually like, well, like feel around their legs or like.

kind of like stretch it out to see like oh is he gonna whimper is that what's hurting him or whatever but it's just odd where he's like i don't know if i should have let him in well that happened with um

my other dog not the one that you all were making jokes about running in the floor behind me i have an older dog he's like seven or eight and then one day he he's normally like real happy to see and everything and then one day he was real mopey and immediately my wife and i were like oh what's what's the problem uh

and uh we like checked out his body and stuff and we took him to the vet and it turns out he had effectively like blown out his knee or like the dog equivalent of his knee.

You told me about that, didn't you?

Like he had to to have surgery on it, yeah.

So, we had, we had to get surgery on it, but the second we saw he was acting strange, we were like, okay, what's the deal?

That's what I thought it was.

We did just leave him to a bed by himself, you know?

Yeah, which maybe he's just like, oh, like, you know, we'll see what happens.

But to me, I feel like if I, it's just odd in the story that it's not him being like, yeah, I mean, I tried grabbing him, but maybe it's even something where it's like, I would touch him, but he didn't even respond to me, like feeling around and, you know, he didn't whimper.

Just something a little angle.

I don't know.

I just thought that was odd.

I could have sworn I heard him walk in the night.

Sound of nails clicking against the wooden floor coming up to the door of my room.

They were slow and deliberate.

That's pretty freaky.

I don't like that.

They weren't like the quickness of Sandy realizing I'd gone to bed and coming to curl up.

I heard the noises stop outside of my bedroom, but I didn't hear his whine.

I thought nothing of it.

Fell into a deep sleep.

When I woke in the morning, I figured it must have been a dream.

Sandy was still sitting in the upright position I left him in when I went to bed.

Absolutely not.

I don't like that.

Not like that at all.

It was as though he didn't move a muscle the entire night.

And when I said, good morning, he didn't so much as wag his tail.

Weird behavioral stuff like that with dog too is always just creepy.

Yeah, it sets me off.

It's the same kind of thing of when the dog looks at the door or like looks at a wall intently like they're looking at something.

It's the same kind of thing.

You build those relationships with animals to where,

especially when you're like, oh, good morning.

You're like, hey, you want some food or whatever?

And if the dog is just like completely still like a statue, doesn't wag their tails.

I'm either thinking, I need to take this dog to a vet or I'm thinking

this dog is fucking possessed by a demon or something.

I'm like,

they have seen something horrible.

Like, if you know a dog for long enough, like this author's.

you know, saying they do, like your dog, like you know it so well.

Like the little Benny, the little nightmare that runs around on camera a couple times.

I remember one day we were outside and he was just standing looking at me and everything was fine.

And then he like moved his back foot a little bit, just like shifted it.

And then I was like, well, he doesn't do that.

And I checked and he had a thorn in it.

Like just the tiniest little movement.

Kayla has this one story that's wild.

My wife is a veterinarian, for those that don't know.

And when she was in vet school, there's a story they told.

Because, you know, you always hear stories about crazy pet owners who are like, I think my dog's dying.

And then they look at it.

It's like, no, he just like scratched his foot, you know, wherever.

But sometimes owners do know what they're talking about.

There was this one girl locally to where my wife was who came into a vet clinic and all she said was her dog looked at her weird, which is like, What?

Like, what does that even mean?

Yeah, what the fuck?

She said she was standing in her house and the dog looked at her weird.

And the dog never looks at her like that.

So the vets were like, okay.

And she was like, I'll pay for any like tests, stuff you have to run or whatever.

And they're like, okay, fine.

And then they run a whole series of tests.

The dog was in the early, early stages of kidney failure.

It ate something that shouldn't have.

It was about to go into kidney failure.

And the dog's life was saved because they caught it super early.

But I don't believe that woman.

I think that that's fucking insane.

I think that's insanely lucky.

Okay.

If I was in the vet and like my dog was hurt and this woman walked in, she's like, you looked at me weird.

I'd be like, why don't you sit your goofy ass down and let the people who have like real problems.

Nine times out of ten, a hundred percent.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

But sometimes.

This is the one time.

This is the one time.

This is just the one time.

Sometimes a dog, the intuition.

Yes, if it, because like, I know, it's weird to think about, but I know how my dog looks at me, right?

If it ever looks at me and like its head's down and it's up, maybe it's done something wrong and I'm about to find something broken in the house or maybe it feels bad or something right.

um

like

maybe just a little nuance that's why this story is pretty unnerving so far is just the idea of like no emotion it's just like looking straight ahead and it hasn't moved at all it's it's the absence of emotion which is what's creepy to me yeah i i don't think i would leave the dog especially if i was looking for it a few days i'm like no you're sleeping with me i mean my dog sleeps with me anyway and he he sleeps like an idiot he he waits for me to lay down and then he rolls on his back and lays on his back across me with his legs straight up in the air like

like a terrorist.

Yeah, so like if my dog was like, no, I'm gonna sit outside tonight, I'd be like, okay, you're going to the hospital.

Something

I would be going to the vet like my dog looked at it, it laid weird.

My dog looked at me weird, helped.

Yeah,

he did follow me into the kitchen, but he paused at the doorway when I put his bowl down on the floor, filled it up with supermarket dog food.

Once again, his back half moved weirdly as he slowly made his way towards me.

There was a nagging feeling that something was off-putting about the way he looked that day.

It was like he had gotten a little longer overnight.

Cool.

Sandy hunched down again, like when he was walking to the door the night before.

He didn't come into the kitchen.

I figured he must have been hungry being out in the wild for so long, but he eyed me like he was waiting for me to come a little closer rather than touch the food.

It goes without saying, but after a few moments of a staring contest between me and my unblinking dog, I called off that foolishness and called his name out loudly.

Not even a flinch.

I didn't want to move closer to my dog to leave the kitchen door, but this was my Sandy, and the most damage he'd ever done was eat flies.

Sure enough, as I passed him, he turned and his body swayed unnaturally.

But he didn't move towards me.

When I left that day, I couldn't find anything.

The deer tracks in the mud were made a few days prior and went cold off naturally made trails through the woods.

I couldn't hear bugs or birds or even the howl of a nearby coyote.

The only sounds from miles away from the campsite were my own breathing and the sound of crunching leaves under my feet.

When the sun started to set, I started making my way back, but I should have just packed my shit and left.

Just behind a cluster of trees, with the house just visible beyond the rise, I figured I found out the reason why the animals had abandoned this place.

Generally, when there are mass animal deaths, that usually means that something is wrong in the area of the slaughter.

And wildlife are usually smart enough to get the hell out of Dodge.

Even cats are bred instinctively not to like drinking from water that is close to where their food is.

Because if you saw a dead animal close to a stream, you'd figure the stream was tainted and find another source of water.

Wait, cats are bred to not like

water

that is close to their food.

Even cats are bred instinctively not to like drinking from water that is close to where their food is.

Really?

Is that saying that

when a cat kills a mouse and eats it, it doesn't want to drink water from around that area?

I'm guessing.

I don't know.

That seems weird.

I've never owned cats.

Do you separate?

I guess you do.

Thinking about it now, actually, my cats, they eat their food somewhere else and then they go drink their water in another spot.

Wow.

and my wife would not like their food and water right next to each other yeah weird yeah cat behaviorists believe this may be due to cats hunting away from their water source in the wild that's interesting

cool okay learn something new every day hundreds of squirrels were disemboweled and strewn across the grass in an almost perfect circle Most of them were skinned alive, but when I turned to heave up all the contents in my stomach, there were a few dozen that were inside out.

I couldn't help but vomit repeatedly as I tried my best to walk around the circle of tiny organs and mashed up bodies, not just over the sight, but because the smell was ungodly.

I don't know how long they've been out there, but if I'd stumbled across this sooner, I'd have left with Sandy and Toe immediately after.

Gradually, the body stopped.

It delved off into a random dead squirrel here and there.

The biggest thing I managed to find, just a few feet off the unholy feeding ground, was a deer.

It looked as though something had decided to skin it alive from hide to neck and drape some of the skin over a branch like someone was tanning the hide.

I don't know how long it had been there, but it smelled like it had been dead for quite some time, despite the fact that there wasn't a single fly.

The head had been cut off clean just above the shoulders, and then I realized the organs had been removed.

I moved from a walking pace through the forest to a jog.

Thankfully, the cabin wasn't too far off.

I heaved one final time, wiped my mouth off on the back of my sleeve, and looked up to the house to see Sandy watching me from the window.

Oh, that's such a creepy visual.

I love the idea, too, of the only two characters in this is just a man and his dog.

But like setting up this thing of like almost

the dog is getting more and more personality with the absence of personality, if that makes sense.

It's odd.

I'm like this dynamic between them.

The less personality it has, the more unsettling it becomes by contrast, right?

I tried to reason with myself and tell myself Sandy's odd behavior could have been trauma.

I know it's stupid to think of it now, but at the time, it was the only reasonable explanation I had to keep myself from going insane.

The elongating body could have just been the loneliness getting to me.

Sandy had realized there was something up with this place, and the second he noticed it, I should have taken this warning and taken off back into town.

Once the door was shut behind me I started packing the food and essentials back into boxes moving quickly to try and get my things into the truck before night came.

It'd be dangerous to try and maneuver my way through the trails at night as the hills off Kelly's Mountain were steep and in pitch darkness with my only companion being my headlights.

It would have been easy to slide off a ravine and never be heard from again.

I didn't want to stay one more night, but I had no choice.

I'd gone back to the house just moments before the sun finally receded past the horizon, and we were bathed in a navy blue sky once again.

I didn't pay attention to Sandy.

He just sat at his bed and watched me pack.

I figured no harm, no foul.

I'd throw his stuff in the truck in the morning, and we'd be back into town before night the next day.

Glancing at him for just a moment, It was a passing thought that he was looking a little longer today.

When I went to bed,

it was a hard time getting to sleep for the next few hours.

This idea of the dog getting longer, do you think that's,

I mean, substantial enough to where he has to, like, actually notice the dog's torso and probably like hind legs stretching?

But I'm like, I'm wondering how

long it exactly is.

Like, I'm trying to picture that in my head.

When you see, when he says he looks longer, do you think it's something where it's becoming uncanny?

Or do you think it's just barely enough to where it's like?

I think it's kind of uncanny.

Have you seen like pictures of Berzois and stuff like that?

Have you ever seen one?

You know how, like, when they lay down, it's like there's two of them.

It looks like the way that people in horse suits are, you know, where there's a guy up front and then a guy in front of you.

It's like two people.

Yeah, it's like part of them moves and then the other one moves at a different pace or something like that, right?

That's kind of what I imagine that maybe this dog.

What kind of dog did they say it was?

It's just a shepherd, right?

It's like a Shetland shepherd.

Yeah.

So you have like a sheepdog that's now getting like these kind of uncanny proportions about it it's moving unnaturally um that's what i imagine i it's probably a stupid reference but when i hear about him moving i think of the slinky dog in toy story

it's almost to me it's almost like a person wearing a dog skin right oh so you think that there's something growing inside the dog or are you just saying like it just feels

i think what happened is this is like a skin walker thing where they kill something and then take the skin of it to become that creature.

So I think that the deer being partially, the hide of it being partially tanned in the woods is an example of that.

Oh, true.

Yeah.

So I think the dog was killed and then like, you know, skinned or whatever.

And now this skin walker or whatnot is

like putting on its skin and basically transform.

Yeah, yeah.

like wearing it sort of it must have been close to four or five in the morning when i heard it the sound of whistling.

Same whistle I used to call my dog.

I broke out into a cold sweat when I realized that whoever slaughtered those squirrels, hung the skin up, left what he didn't need, could very well have broken into my house.

The door to my room didn't make a sound as I opened it slowly, thankfully.

I waited a moment, listening to someone call my dog for a few more seconds.

Before I dared poke my head out from the doorframe to get a good look at whoever it was that could have hurt Sandy.

The outside door was open.

All I saw was the back half of Sandy, too long and lanky, almost coiled around the back of the door.

His front half was outside.

Whatever it was that had impersonated my dog, it was whistling slowly, calling for Sandy.

But I could have sworn that it had hunched down to the ground again

and said,

Sandy,

in the most ungodly voice I'd ever heard.

I closed the door just as softly as I'd opened it.

Is he saying there that the dog did that?

I think he's saying that the front half did it.

That's outside.

At least that's how I interpret it.

Yeah.

Yeah.

I think that's why he's saying it.

Crouched down to the ground and said it.

So what it's doing is it's mimicking his voice.

It mimicked his whistle.

It's a double-decker.

That's what I'm thinking.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Is the dog is now sounding like him.

I don't think he's registered that yet, but that's kind of what I'm just thinking.

He sounds exactly like our our narrator.

Yeah, it sounds kind of like an uncanny, kind of broken one.

Do you remember that, um,

to me, it was one of my favorite parts of the stairs in the woods story.

Do you remember that part where the woman hears a cat meowing off the trail?

Oh, yeah.

And then as she gets closer, she realizes it's not a cat meowing.

It's what a person sounds like when they're trying to be a cat.

Like it's definitely a guy doing a cat sound.

Yeah.

Which, for one, is one of the most menacing.

So creepy.

Yeah, that's horrifying.

But I kind of imagine that here but with a person's voice right like it's kind of like an animal mimicking a human sound i think it sounds more i know i did sandy but i'm wondering if it's like if he said it like an ungodly voice it makes you think it's almost like

like thrash vocals or like thrash vocal cords almost like a like

That's something kind of like more so.

Like it's trying to brain or something.

Yeah.

And you also got to realize because this guy's just here with his dog, that's probably the only word he said, right?

It's not like he talks to the dog.

Yeah, I mean, he just Sandy or come here or whatever.

Like, I wouldn't be surprised after a while we hear, like, come here.

Come here, boy.

Yeah.

Come here, boy.

Exactly.

I don't know how long I waited with my pack pressed up against the door.

I don't know how long I waited with my back pressed up against the door.

I knew I left my gun in the bag on the coat rack.

I know I didn't sleep.

I waited until I saw the sun break over the horizon and then I waited some more until it must have been midday and I finally got the balls to open the door again and make a break for the truck.

I wouldn't die in that place.

Sandy was gone.

And the door was open.

His food was untouched, but the fridge was open.

And all the meat was gone.

I didn't bother packing his stuff.

I just threw my bag over my shoulder, made my way to the fort as fast as I could, and turned on the ignition.

I can't describe the feeling that overcame me as I realized that I'd have to leave Sandy in this place.

I thought that he could be...

The thought that he could be dead was never a thought in my mind.

I don't think I could cope with the knowledge that whatever I allowed in my house, whatever disemboweled those animals, could have done the same with him.

I made my way down the windy path and roads as fast as I possibly could without veering off the cliffs.

I felt like I was turning in circles down this labyrinth that would take me back to that house.

But when I reached the pavement on the stretch of road back to town, I felt relief wash over me, thinking I was safe.

Just as I was pulling off onto the cement, I felt something hard hit the back windshield, sending broken glass into the passenger seat.

Whoa.

I only got a glimpse of the deer's decapitated head catching on unbroken glass and tumbling into the back seat.

I cried for most of the way home, hands clenching the steering wheel so hard my knuckles were white.

So as he's driving away, something chucks the deer head

like as hard as a yeah, just and it had to break through glass to fall into the back seat, basically.

absolutely beamed that deer's i mean like a like a fucking asteroid going on

push yeah literally

it's like a randy johnson throwing a fucking deer's head into the back seat of a car at the speed of sound just

that would actually be like a fun shot for something right um

so imagine that you set up the shot Where I'm being a nerd here, but like the camera's in the back seat looking at the back of his head, right?

And you have the rearview mirror that sees his face.

And then in the rearview mirror, you see something

full speed.

Yeah.

And it comes like face over the camera.

Yeah.

It'd be really funny.

That'd be a good comedic beat.

I wish I could leave this off with a positive note.

No sleep.

I wish I could tell you that I found Sandy at home waiting for me.

I wish I could tell you that was the end of it.

Traumatizing experience in the woods that I'll get over with time.

Last night, I found it hard to sleep.

I kept replaying the entirety of my trip to Kelly's Mountain in my head.

I figured I wouldn't be sleeping for a while and lay there listening to the wind through the open window.

I could have sworn I heard the whistle I used to call my dog with coming from the forest edge.

If you go on trips with your dog, no sleep, I advise that you don't let them out of your sight for too long.

What comes back might not be your dog.

And that is our story for today.

I will say this does have that age.

It has that fun age of

like 9-10, like 9 to 12 years ago on R slash No Sleep.

A lot of it was these little inklings, these little kernels of these blog posts where I feel like you really could have dove into this way more.

But I still like the setup of the story.

Like if it was written maybe five years later, four or five years later, I think this would have been something that we really would have gotten to sink into what this monster is.

But it is fun to...

I mean, like,

in my mind, I'm thinking that

it's a skinwalker is what I would assume, right?

Yeah, that's what it is.

It's skinning things, it's skinning animals, and then mimicking voices, and mimicking it.

Definitely a skinwalker, for sure.

Love the visual of the dog elongating and kind of, you know,

basically mimicking the guy's voice, like the kind of weird, stoic, quiet, statue-like.

pose it has it's very ominous it would have been fun to have this character be more proactive with being like, I need to find my dog.

Like, this is my best friend and kind of irrationally follow his gut to find this, you know, this one true friend that he has.

Keep diving down that and unfolding more of what this kind of mystery is, right?

This, that's the, that's the problem is it's like with a lot of stories, I feel like you need to have, uh, you need to find a way to have your protagonist be likable, but make stupid choices, irrational, stupid choices.

This character was very rational.

It hid back.

It didn't overplay its hand or anything.

It didn't, he wasn't distracted with his own emotional conflicts that he had, which usually makes for a much more engaging, much more like bombastic story.

It makes you want to choke the fucking reader or make, you know, choke the protagonist when they go and do stupid things, but it does help propel conflict and, you know, get us to interact with more of the horror, which is fun.

But yeah, you know, as a level-headed guy, as a quick little, this is a very quick story interjected with my own trauma.

So thank you for that.

And I think that,

you know, I like this story.

It was good, but it is, it has to be one of my all-time favorite recordings because it has brought us to a revelation that I will never let you live down, nor will anyone else in the comments section.

I will.

I was fighting for my life while I was reading to not make every single sentence.

Like, I looked at my dog.

It was strange.

The front half was long, the back half was a mobility scooter.

It was her mobility scooter, exactly.

I was standing on the porch waiting for something to come.

I saw the shape of a mobility scooter come out.

I will be having choice, choice words with my mother after this recording is done.

Oh, that was so cool.

She has stained our family's character.

I love

to help.

And it was that.

Oh,

literally, who wants to be a millionaire lifeline call completely backfiring?

It's not the best.

I will say, you know, like this, I wouldn't say this story particularly stood out amongst all the other ones that we've done, but I will say at least it set up some fun, uh,

some fun ideas.

Like, I even wrote a little note down being like, you know, it'd been kind of cool is if

he was out in the woods, you see this thing instead of a skinwalker, because I know that's kind of like a, would you say skinwalkers are kind of an overplayed meme?

Um,

I feel like there's a lot of skinwalkers.

That doesn't diminish it.

I'm just saying, like, I feel like it's really out there versus, you know what, we haven't read if i was writing a horror story right now uh i wouldn't use skin walkers sure i feel like they're just too overdone yeah yeah you know what's also overdone

years ago what's over also overdone is witches but i was like you know it would have been kind of a fucking weird surprise if the guy would have stumbled upon like i don't know some kind of like

just like a witch's den or something like whenever the fog and that kind of stuff i love the idea of you stumbling across something this fantastical where it's just out in in the middle of nowhere.

And it's like, of course, no one would ever come across this.

And this like person has just been existing almost like a hermit out in the woods or whatever, and then like doing rituals or something.

It would be fun to read a story that kind of takes that fun route.

And it's like a malicious human-esque person that's just off the grid doing these kind of weird rituals or something in the woods.

It kind of reminds me, that idea kind of reminds me of

what is that?

The soul in Tongues.

Remember how it was like the bodies were being used for, they're being like shoved together to create these monsters?

Now, those monsters were definitely closer to skinwalkers than witches, but that kind of reminds me of it a little bit.

Yeah, well, we're getting to a lot of things where people, a lot of these stories on the no sleep are someone goes to cabin to get away, and in the woods, something is happening.

It would be really interesting to see a story where it's like, I live in an apartment building and it's like the negligence of people.

Like,

I don't think people really realize how often like the amount of horrible shit you digest every day and you don't really give a fuck because it's not affecting you directly, how you can use that as a motivator for a story of a person being affected in like an apartment building and like people knocking on doors or whatever and no one answering, no one giving a fuck because they're just like, it's their problem.

It'd be fun to set it in a place where, you know, I understand that people do forest and, you know, the cabins and stuff because it's isolation and no one can help them and it's the fear of the unknown.

But it would be fun to see if you could have the fear of the unknown in a setting that is like an apartment complex or like a suburban neighborhood, you know, which is my favorite part of the stolen tongues was the um the stuff in the house

or am I thinking of a different story?

Yeah, no, no, no, you're talking about when he was at the house and she was being like possessed to like walk around the street.

To me, I'm like

it's the idea that's like, yeah, you can run to your neighbor's house, but do you think they're gonna like answer you?

It's like there's all this stuff around you, but yet it still feels so foreign and far away.

It'd be fun to see if we can't find some stories that lean into that.

I love the whole camp aesthetic, you know, cabin.

We've seen it so much

on the channel.

It'd be cool to see if we couldn't find something that doesn't just have the, I went camping, you know, which is unfortunate too, because it fits this.

campfire, it's like scary campfire story aesthetic too, which a lot of these would be fun to read if you were camping and trying to scare each other because because they're all just there.

It seems like they're all campfire ready,

right?

Yeah.

Yeah, I think so.

Um, yeah, I think something like that would be fun.

I'm trying to think if there's like an example I can think of in my head.

You're right, most of them kind of rely on the whole woods isolation aspect of it.

Um, but there's other

I'm sure we could find something.

I don't know if you're definitely worried about that.

There's like urban settings and stuff like that.

Oh, definitely.

I mean,

you know, my wife is peeking me around corners.

That's all based in, you know, just a house in suburbia.

I think I'm just more, I'm like, more, it's more so a challenge for the viewers to be like, oh, you should check this one out or something.

Cause

I think it'd be fun to just dive into more of those stories.

I always feel like I have a lot more fun whenever it's almost something that you can directly,

like you wake up in a house.

It'd be fun if it was in a house that you, it's more relatable.

to your living experience.

And to me, I'm like, that makes it more horrifying.

Thinking that that could be happening in your your neighbor's house, or that this could be something in your house, and no one can fucking help you.

That's fun, but all in all, like I said, I think this story was sick.

Chewing skins, awesome little sauce here.

It'd be cool too if they kept writing stuff and kind of made longer posts or were able to kind of

dive a bit deeper into some of these monsters that they're setting up.

But chewing skin, I thought this story was sick, my guy.

So appreciate you.

Also, for people, like I said, Creepcast Tour coming up very soon.

We're very, very excited.

All the VIP people that we get to meet, very stoked.

We'll try to, you know, make it as personable for everybody there as much as we can.

I'm nervous.

I am, I will tell you, I'm legitimately nervous.

I feel like I'm going to have a little

stage fright.

Look, after the last tour, bring him.

Let me meet him.

Let me kiss some babies.

Let me shake some babies, kiss somebody.

Yeah, you take charge, dude.

Absolutely.

I've got it.

I completely know who

the personality of this podcast is.

So, until then, excited to see you guys on the tour.

Stay on the lookout for any gerryash or grandfathers into mobility scooters with hunting rifles.

And I think that's everything for this episode, I believe.

Until next time, stay creeped, you stupid bastards.

We'll catch you in the next one.

Stay creeped by people in mobility scooters.

Bye.