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Chapter 1: What chilling story sets the mood for the episode?
No. This is Creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous, chilling, and disturbing creepypastas and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened or are simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. What's up, everyone?
We have something a little different today, but not a total departure from our usual format. This is something we put together to help you all get in the mood for the new horror movie coming out called Passenger. 130 million people take road trips every year. 15,400 of them are never seen again. Have you heard the story of the passenger that's been circulating online lately?
A young couple set out on a van life trip, but a few nights in, they came across a brutal car accident on the side of the road. I'm not talking about a typical crash. Something about this was off. And there's one detail that keeps coming up. The car they found had three deep scratches carved into the side. Not dents. Scratches. They stopped, they saw it, and then they left.
But here's where things got strange. Not long after, creepy things started happening. You know, I love creepy things. They began to feel that they weren't alone in the van. Like something followed them from that road. People online have started connecting it to something they're calling the passenger.
Supposedly, it attaches itself to anyone who encounters it and marks their car with three scratches. Once that happens, it doesn't let go. If these reports are true, this couple didn't just witness something on that highway. They carried it with them. From Andrea Overdahl, director of one of my all-time favorite horror movies, The Autopsy of Jane Doe, comes Passenger, only in theaters May 22nd.
Get tickets now. And as I mentioned earlier, to get you in the mood, we have some driving-related stories to get you in the right, or wrong, headspace. First up, from writer Eric Fomley and narrated by Owen McCune, Creepy Presents, Traffic Stop.
I don't know where else to put this, so I'm writing it here. Chief says I have to process through what I saw before he'll bring me back to work. My therapist says that sometimes writing things down can help the brain process through certain experiences, like putting it on paper will make it any more distant from my mind or any less terrifying.
There's nothing I seem to be able to do to get it out of my head. I can't sleep at night. Sometimes during the day I see or hear it. And it's the hearing it that's worse. I'm going to give this my best go, though I still think I'll sound a little crazy. Just bear with me and maybe this will help me let go of some of what happened that day. The stress from work is what Chief calls it.
But I'd take stress over this any fucking day. The yellow Chevy Cobalt blew a stop sign. That's how it started. I was sitting across the street at the gas station catching up on reports. I happened to look up and see it. I flicked on my lights and pulled out behind it. The Chevy seemed to speed up at first.
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Chapter 2: What strange phenomena occur after the couple's road trip?
Fuck, I said. I flung his license and registration into his car and took off after him, calling in backup while I pulled my taser out of his holster and tried to catch up to the guy I was quickly losing. He ran right to the factory, flung open the rusty blue metal door to the place, and ran inside. Inside my head, I was screaming about going in after the guy.
Chapter 3: What is the connection between the couple and the 'passenger' legend?
Doing so alone was not a good choice, but until my backup got here, I was still solo. There wasn't a lot of choice there. I decided to do it, and do it slow. I opened the door. I was breathing heavily, my lungs and legs burned with a sudden effort, and I creeped inside.
Chapter 4: How does the protagonist react to the discovery of human teeth?
It was a type of foyer space before going into the main factory. I glanced around, and my heart almost jumped right into my throat. Slumped over on the ground in the corner was the guy, unmoving. Well, I thought it was the guy. Show me your hands! Your hands! Show me your hands! I had the taser pointed at him, but there was no movement whatsoever. Eerie still, like he was dead or something.
I walked over to him and knelt beside him, putting my finger on his neck. that's when I really saw it for real. I looked in the eyes and could see the back of the skull. It was like some sort of weird ass rubber suit or wax thing. It was still dripping and empty. The guy must have ditched the suit and taken off. What the hell? I looked, but didn't see the zipper.
It still looked like a full body, but it was an empty husk. Some weird ass costume, probably a Comic-Con type thing.
Chapter 5: What unsettling events unfold in the second story?
My heart thundered, and I took a couple of deep breaths. I opened the door back up to see if any other squad cars had shown up yet, but didn't see anything. Shift change was a shitty time to be asking for backup. I let the door creak closed and headed for the one that went into the factory. I was already somewhat convinced that I lost the guy.
Not that I knew what the guy actually looked like without his little wax outfit. As soon as I opened the second door, I saw a movement. I pulled out my flashlight and shined it into the dark hallway. The third door on the left slammed shut. I need you to come out.
Chapter 6: What happens during the traffic stop in the first story?
We can still fix this. I shined my light farther down the hallway. Office after office, left and right, all the way down, maybe 30 doors between the two sides. I tried to remember what this place produced, but was drawing a blank. It had been shut down for several years. I slowly made my way toward the door, grabbing my radio in the process to reach out to dispatch.
The static voice on the other end was Dina. Two units almost there. Copy. I held the taser in my right hand up to the crack of the door while I managed to open it with my left, which was also holding my flashlight.
Chapter 7: What horrific conclusion does the second story reach?
Inside, the office was dark. I shone my light around the room until I settled on him in the corner. Only, it wasn't him. It was something else entirely. He was huddled on the floor, knees tucked up to his chest, breathing in heavily.
but whatever he was wearing for a wax suit before was gone, replaced by what looked like what you see in an anatomy textbook of what someone looks like under their flesh. His skin was translucent with blood splashing around his muscles and organs. He didn't have a face, just a skull that looked up at me, eyeless. I tried not to panic.
tried to keep the bile inside of me down, and tried to convince myself that this was another suit, another costume that this freak was wearing. It was just so lifelike that I had a hard time convincing myself otherwise. I need to see your hands, I said. My voice was shaky. I could see how my light was, too, in my jittery hand. The thing slowly rose to its feet.
I tightened my sweaty grip on the taser. Slowly, it rushed me, lunging right at me. I pulled the trigger and deployed the taser, which shot out and hit nothing. The guy disappeared, like he was running at me and just vanished. I heard something in the hallway behind me. Had I missed him somehow? Had he gotten around me and my mind was just playing tricks on me?
It was an uncomfortable thought and feeling. I was sure I was somewhat losing it. I turned around and made my way to the hallway. I gathered up my deployed taser and put it away, pulling out my Glock instead. Alarm bells were going off in my head about what I'd just seen. There was something dangerous about this guy.
Costumes or not, he was aggressive, but I wasn't willing to put myself in the line of fire. I swept both sides of the hallway before going further down. I opened one door only for him to open a door several doors down and run across the hall. Freeze! He leapt into a room, not bothering to open the door, just passing right through like he was a fucking ghost. Now I was seeing things.
I moved for the room, opened the door, and looked inside. Empty, completely empty. I clamped my eyes shut and opened them. What was wrong with me? I knew I couldn't be seeing what I was seeing. I heard another commotion down the hallway, and he was standing all the way at the end, back turned to me. I walked towards him, looking at his vertebrae the whole way as I walked close to him.
He was facing the wall at the end of the hallway, slowly raising one of his hands and pressing it up against the drywall. Listen, buddy, I don't want to have to use this. Please turn around slowly. He didn't respond. One of the bony, translucent hands drug its way down the wall.
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Chapter 8: How does the protagonist experience fear during the traffic stop?
It took me a moment to realize what was happening. That he unzipped the wall is the best way I can describe it. Like the wall was some sort of flesh that tore as he slid his hand down it. The gap opened, and instead of more of the factory on the other side, it was something else.
He turned, looked at me with the eyeless skull that was his face, and nodded his head one time before he ran into the hole he ripped into the wall. I'm not proud to say this, but I fired my service weapon three times at him. If the bullets made any sort of impact, it didn't show. Stop, I screamed. I ran to the opening in the wall and froze. I can't describe this part the right way.
It wasn't anywhere on the planet Earth. It wasn't anywhere I can describe, except maybe the very foundations of hell itself. The inside of the room was like the inside of a stomach. The walls were made of flesh, organic flesh like plants with razor teeth jutted out of the ground, which itself looked like some sort of pinkish tongue designed to eat.
The structure of the ceiling was like the inside of a rib cage, like the earth itself was some turd being swallowed by whatever creature was in here. The air that wafted out was moist and hot and smelled like the worst sort of dead animal I'd ever smelled. It turned my stomach and I gagged. But above all else was the screams. Oh God, the screams.
There was a cacophony of screams from organic beings. Not just some that sounded human, but worse. Like the whole universe was crying out at the abomination I was looking at, begging for reprieve. I dropped my gun and fell to my knees. The sight, the sound, it was enough to drive me mad. Tears blurred my eyes as I took the sights in.
I could feel myself gasping for air, choking, but without being able to catch my breath. Then the hole started to stitch itself closed from the floor to the ceiling like a suture that knitted the wound back together that separated our world from whatever this hellish place was that I was in front of. Soon I was in front of blank drywall in an abandoned factory in Granville, alone.
That's when my backup showed. They said they found me murmuring something, but I don't remember that. I do remember the tears that wouldn't stop streaming down my face and the inability to tell them what exactly happened, what I saw, and where the suspect had gone. I sat in silence for a long time until they brought the chief out. He relieved me of duty.
I'm going to have to stop talking about it after I put this here. I've been trying to convince myself for a month that none of this happened. That I didn't see, feel, or truly experience all of it. Lying to yourself is an art, I'm finding. Because no matter what I say to convince myself otherwise, I know what I saw. I see it throughout the day and every night when I close my eyes.
I'll have to pretend because I need my job. I'll have to keep it to myself because people don't like their comfortable reality being fucked with by things they don't think are possible. But what I'm telling this piece of paper here, in my therapist's office, is that I know what lives on the other side of this reality. That there are ways where the things over there can come over here.
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