Transcript generated automatically by AI and may contain errors.
Chapter 1: What is discussed at the start of this section?
Thank you.
YO, WELCOME BACK TO CREEPCAST!
We're in person again, baby! Back in the library! We're reading three Little Grab Bags! Wait, were these the ones that were on Tales from the Creeps? No. These are all older. Oh, these are all older, but we are getting- we are gonna be reading some Tales from the Creeps here pretty soon. These are so, oh yeah, this is 14 years ago from a deleted user.
This first one that we're reading is called the strangest security tape I've ever seen. And then wait, the next one is my doorbell sends a motion detected alert every night at 2.53. Found a forum full of users experiencing the exact same issue. Now something seriously strange is going on. And then lastly, I was an air traffic controller at Atlantic Municipal Airport, Iowa for 27 years.
My first year at the job, I unwillingly went from a firm atheist to a believer. The long overdue end. This is, these are fucking old. With long-ass titles like those, you bet your bottom dollar these are fucking old stories, dude. Good Lord. Well, the doorbell one's four years old. The doorbell one is?
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Chapter 2: What stories are being read in this episode?
Yeah. I was hearkening back to it. It has an old soul. Yeah. So, yes, we are in person again. Harry picked me up from the airport. Not Hunter. Harry picked me up from the airport, which I was going to hang over him. But we're getting started on the recording two hours late because I overslept. That is true. We are behind. You know, if you think about it.
We should actually already have an episode done. You made me wait at the airport, so I made you wait in here. That did not affect literally anything. It could have, you know, hypothetically, given time and constraints and stuff. So I think we're even is what I'm trying to say. Okay, all right. Hey, if you're listening on Apple Podcasts or Spotify, leave us a good review.
And if you are on our Patreon, thank you. Or consider joining the Patreon. There's good stuff there. Don't get that shrug in there. There's good stuff. Well, I think the shrug's on brand for you. You do like the sad e-boy thing a lot. Yeah, when they see me, they usually think of an e-boy. I mean, by definition. Can morbidly obese people be e-boys?
Chapter 3: What strange events occur at the gas station?
I don't think they can. You're not morbidly obese. Morbidly. Yes, you can. You absolutely can. I didn't know. So the strangest security tape I've ever seen has been recommended a ton. I don't think you're familiar with this story, but it is an OG. This thing's been around a while. Pretty much everyone who did creepypasta readings back in the day covered it. We will begin with that one.
And again, the other ones, Harry said that there is a theme to these stories, like an interconnected thing. So we'll see what that is as we go. But we can begin with the strangest security tape. Are you ready to get into it? Oh, I'm ready. Then let us begin. I work at a gas station in rural Pennsylvania. Already a terrifying country. Pennsylvania. Oh, I've been to Pennsylvania. Went to Philly.
One of the worst cities in America. Easily. That's a scary setup. Maybe not as bad as St. Louis, but horrible. Trashy. Horrible. Horrible place. Horrible fans of anything. Anything they like, they just love to hate and I worked at a gas station in rural Pennsylvania. It's a boring job, but it's pretty easy and it pays alright. A few weeks ago, this new guy started. I'll call him Jeremy.
Jeremy is weird. He's about 25 or 26, and he hardly speaks, but he's got the creepiest laugh I've ever heard. My boss and I have both noticed this, but it's never been a problem, so there's not much we can do about it. Customers have never complained about him, and he's always done his job fairly well. Up until a few weeks ago, anyway. That's when things started going missing.
Employee theft can be a problem at any business that sells consumer goods, and there's only one person working at a time at this gas station. It's a pretty small place. About two weeks ago, my boss started noticing that we were short on motor oil. At first, it was a few containers at a time, then the entire shelves and boxes from the back room.
Pretty soon, entire shipments would be gone the day after we got them, and it would always be right after Jeremy shifts. My boss has checked the security camera tapes from every single night he worked, but he could never catch him in the act. Jeremy would lock up at closing, and the motor oil would be gone the next day.
My boss usually takes the tapes home with him to try and catch Jeremy stealing, but his daughter had a softball game last night, so he asked me to watch the tape for him. He offered to pay me overtime under the table, so obviously I took the offer. There are three cameras, so he gave me three different tapes to check.
I figured it'd be a long night, but I'm trying to save up for vacation, so I really needed that money. Took the tapes home, popped them in the old VCR, set back. Two days ago, the last time he worked, Jeremy started at 4 p.m. Everything seemed pretty normal at first. counted up his drawer, switched off with the girl who was working before him, and waited for a customer.
The first person who came in was Mrs. Templeton. The timestamp on the video read 4-0-3, a regular. Picked up her cigarettes at a newspaper and paid with a 20. Nothing unusual there. The next customer was some local guy named Ron. He drives a motorcycle, usually comes in every few days. Filled up his tank, got a bag of beef jerky, paid with his credit card, and then left.
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Chapter 4: How does the security footage reveal the truth?
Sorry guys, I didn't grab the security tapes to upload on the internet. Believe me, that was the last thing on my mind. The gas station is on a major highway, and cars were parked all along it, except they weren't parked, they were frozen. The people inside were sitting still as wax statues. I got in my car and prayed that it would start, thankfully it did.
About halfway home, time started up again. The static from the radio turned into music, like it's supposed to be, and from what I could tell by listening to the host talk in between songs, no one noticed the time freeze, or whatever it was. I was the only one. Well, I'm sure Jeremy noticed as well. I still have no clue where he is or what he's doing.
I'm hiding in my room and calling the police again in the morning. I don't know if I ever got through to them before, or if I did, whether they took me seriously. I'm scared for my life at this point. I'll update tomorrow if I can. Final update. 10.33 AM. I finally fell asleep last night around 4.00. I have no idea how I did it. I guess exhaustion finally got the best of me.
This morning, I woke up to my phone ringing. It was my boss. He'd been calling me since about six. He woke up when time turned back on last night and immediately called the cops. They came by to see what was wrong and he told them everything. police around here are all small-time guys.
They were more concerned with the missing motor oil than anything, but my boss figured he would take it as long as he had their attention. They decided to go looking for Jeremy. We keep all our employee applications on file. Since Jeremy just started working here, his was easy to find. They checked the address on it and headed over to his house. You're not going to believe what they found.
The address Jeremy listed on his application was an empty lot, or at least now it is. There used to be a house there, but it burned down in 1993. Being a small town, almost everyone remembers that fire. A family of four used to live there way back when. Rumor has it that they had an estranged son who they never really talked about, but I can't say for sure if that's true.
What I can say is true is that after an insurance investigation, the fire was ruled an arson. The entire house was soaked in oil and torched with a Molotov cocktail. The entire family was sleeping when it happened. None of them survived. They never caught the guy who did it. Rumor has it that when they tried to contact the estranged son, no one could find him.
Anyway, my boss called and told me this, and I freaked out. Then he asked me to come to the gas station. What are you, crazy?
i said but he assured me that the cops were there with him then he dropped a bomb the fbi were also in town they were going to talk to me one way or another so i might as well come in it was about 7 15 and i wanted to go back to bed but i figured i wouldn't be able to sleep much more anyway so i went down four men in suits greeted me and told me to have a seat we went over everything two or three times until they got all the details down
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Chapter 5: What terrifying experience did the air traffic controller face during a snowstorm?
I'm just picturing that guy out there with that doorbell. He has like the bellies like... He's like whipping the door with the chain. Ugh. Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong, ding dong. The house became alive with movement. It felt like being trapped inside a tornado. Everything around me rattling and quivering. Storm shutters scratching against walls. The letterbox wrapping away.
Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong. I sprinted into the bathroom and barricaded myself inside and called the police. The phone buzzing with the chorus of non-stop alerts. There's someone at the door. There's someone at the door. There's someone. And then, out of nowhere, the house lowered its voice and went back to sleep. I checked my phone. 2-54. Now, trembling, I brought up the feed from outside.
There was nothing, except a peaceful garden and the quiet section of street that lay beyond it. Two officers turned up, checked the footage, and dismissed the encounter as a mixture of a technical glitch and overactive imagination and some nasty weather. But when I next clicked onto the forum, there were four new posts. It's 2.53. Time to come outside. Reply, Paleo10. It's 2.53.
Time to come outside. Reply, PixieChick01. It's 2.53. Time to come outside. Reply, TooManyTopHats. It's 2.53. Time to come outside. That's pretty fun.
That's a fun little story of like this entity that's like at this one minute for whatever reason in this area, it's going door to door trying to convince people that they need to come outside and seemingly they join it or it consumes them then pretends to be them or something like that. But it's a fun thing told through like a help forum for a doorbell thing. Oh, yeah. It's a die cook. I'm sorry.
It's okay.
It's okay. Sorry, you don't have to apologize. I understand what happened.
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Chapter 6: What strange encounter did the air traffic controller have with a mysterious woman?
Man, time's creepy, huh? What? Like time, time itself. All right, so that was Lightning Nations. You can check them out. It'll be linked in the description below. Hunter, we have one more story today. All right. That story is, I was an air traffic controller at Atlantic Municipal Airport, Iowa, for 27 years. The first year at the job, I unwillingly went from a firm atheist to a believer.
And the story is posted by iNace. The name is I-N-A-A-A-C-E. The profile picture is terrifying. Their profile picture is terrifying? Yes. Yeah, that is kind of fucked up. It's like Michael Jackson eating a potato. I don't think that's Michael Jackson. That is it? I don't think so. They posted a lot in r slash golf and golf and stuff like that.
About four years ago, they started talking about how they have cancer and how that's making it more and more difficult to play. Then they posted a lot on r slash cancer about their condition and stuff like that. And then they haven't posted in three years. It's pretty rough.
Man, this is the second person we've come across that we're just like, people have recommended the story and then you find out that the person just passed. It's such a weird part of this podcast and even just being like an internet user stumbling across people's just completely live interactions. Like you look at these comments and you're just like, oh, these are people that are just living life.
But now there's so much documentation out there now that it's just like... You're going to keep seeing this. People years from now are going to see stuff or whenever we're gone too, they're going to see that stuff and be like, that's insane. It's just odd. Well, I mean... It's kind of like people always say if it's on the internet, it's there forever, which is normally meant as a negative thing.
But in other ways, you have something like this where... And 11 years ago, this guy wrote a story that he thought was cool enough to post online. And other people, even after he passes, still recommend it, still think it's a cool story, still pass it around. I remember there was, there's this YouTube video by a guy named Jacob Geller. He makes like these really cool video essays.
But he was talking about this video game where the plot of it was like, it's these eternal beings that are trying to figure out how to make stories, basically. And the resolution they come to at the end is they can't understand storytelling because they're not human. They're not temporary creatures who know loss and life and stuff like that.
And Jacob Geller said something at the end of that video I think about all the time. He said, stories are our immortality. They're a kinder collective immortality. I've always thought that's such a cool way to look at it. It's like all of us contribute to this one thing that a piece of us lives on forever. I'm sure it's not all about us, but in that way, we never die.
I think that's a really cool idea. And this is an example of that where he's gone. We didn't even know he was gone because the only thing that we were introduced to was that it's a cool story. So that's pretty cool. So INACE, we'll have their account linked in the description if you want to scroll through, see what else they've written and stuff like that.
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Chapter 7: How did the air traffic controller react to the woman's presence?
This is when my uncle started telling me a story. A story that he says will haunt him all the way to his grave. I stopped him two minutes into it, got my laptop because I wanted to write it down for no sleep. These are his memories, almost word for word. Forgive the non-traditional writing. Are you typing? You are? Okay, okay. And your friends on the internet will read this?
All right, but warn them that these are just old man's memories. Okay, so back to the beginning. So I graduated from Fordham in 1974 and still had no idea what to do.
times were different then we were able to find jobs easily god i remember companies practically begging us to work for him but i didn't want to do some shitty dash job for the rest of my life so i waited then one day while flying to visit your aunt on thanksgiving i caught myself being fascinated with the complexity of air traffic systems that's all it took i decided to become an air traffic controller
By the time I turned 27, I had passed all of the necessary tests and have accumulated enough experience to be hired and work without a supervision. Thing with air traffic controllers is that you don't really get to choose where you're gonna work in the beginning. Sure, we all wanted to work at JFK or Hartsfield Jackson, but those jobs just weren't available to us rookies.
So I had to take a job in a bum little town in Iowa called Atlantic. It was literally a single landing strip in a damn cornfield. I had to pay my dues. And the money was alright. Now, small airports like these usually only work 8 to 5, but this particular strip was in such a geographical location that there were a lot of flights going above us at any time.
So we needed to stay open until 4am in case of emergency landing. By staying open, I mean I had to sit in the control tower and there was one security guy sleeping in the airport's only terminal. It wasn't that bad, really. I'd bring my books and crossword puzzles and I'd spend hours on the phone with your aunt.
You know how they say that the air traffic controller is the most stressful job in the world? Well, I was bored 99% of the time. And that 1% was guiding small Cessnas into my cornfield airport. So why am I telling you all this? Well, about three months into my job, something started happening.
Something that even today I can't really, I'll save you the talk about the supernatural, but what happened at that airport just ain't right. February 20th, 1979. I remember it like it was yesterday. It was a regular winter night in Iowa. Winds and freezing cold, but no snow. I was supposed to work until close, although we didn't have any flights scheduled.
Around 1 a.m., I received a radio message from a small Cessna about 30 miles from the airport. They were having a really bad snowstorm up in Omaha and needed to land here in Atlantic. I guess being open late was justified after all. I got my binoculars out, verified the visibility, and started guiding the aircraft, though it was really windy out there. They managed to touch down.
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Chapter 8: What was the aftermath of the encounter with the woman at the airport?
Do you happen to see a woman walking down the runway towards you? I asked the pilot who had just landed. Let me check. Still watching through binoculars, I saw him open the door of the plane to get out. He started walking towards the woman. Not going to lie, at that point, I was having a lot of fun. Not much happened in Atlantic, Iowa. This certainly wasn't entertaining.
I couldn't wait to hear her story. My bet was that she got in a car accident near the airport. Well, the pilot walked up to her, and I could make it that he was saying something. I saw, still through the binoculars, her lean to his ear and almost whisper something to him. He just stood there for a good ten seconds with neither of them moving. She was still leaning close to his ear.
Then he snapped out of it, I guess, turned around, and literally sprinted to the plane. When I saw the propeller starting to rotate, I jumped on my radio. Flight 84, what are you doing? No answer. Flight 84, I repeat, what is happening? Nothing. Then the plane started moving, speeding up. Flight 84, you do not have permission to take off. I repeat, you are not cleared for takeoff.
There was no answer. That damn Cessna kept speeding up, then took off. Nothing I could do, really, besides making sure that no other planes were above us at the time. I tried one more time. Flight 84, this is air traffic control. What the hell is happening? Then my radio started making white noise. It was all I could hear coming from the radio. Flight 84, please repeat. You're breaking up.
What a night, I thought. Radio started transmitting again.
Run! Run! Run!
Flight 84, did you say run? Please repeat yourself. Nothing else came from out of the damn radio. The plane was long gone. Dude, if I was in air traffic and I witnessed that, and then the guy's like, run, run, run. I'd be like, well, all right, got it. The only person in air traffic control. Yeah, no, fuck that. Yeah, you're alone in the whole airport. It's just you. I'm good. Yeah, okay.
All right. I'm either running immediately or I'm never leaving that room again. Yeah, I'm there forever. Until sunlight, and I'm like, someone's going to have to pull me out of here. I sat in my chair trying to decipher what just happened. Run? From what? What the hell? And then it dawned on me. The woman. Grabbed the binoculars. She was looking straight at me. Yeah, no. No. No, absolutely not.
Good 200 yards away, at night, she was somehow looking straight at me. Eyes open so wide, it's hard to explain what she looked like. I guess... You know how when someone's super surprised... I don't like this at all. It's like the... Yeah, like the impossibly wide eyes. Almost like she has no eyelids or something.
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