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Hey this is Dane and this is Scary Stories in Rain. Please join my family and follow this podcast on Spotify or Apple. And if you want the ultimate experience, you can get rid of all of the ads and be entered to win all of my giveaways every month by subscribing for just 299amonth. All of the ads gone, every single giveaway automatically entered. And starting now today, every Sunday, I'm going to release the ultimate episode. 6 to 12 hours long ultimate Scary Stories for a Rainy Night. Subscriber Exclusive and as a reminder, we are now four months away from my first movie release in theaters. Gale Yellow Brick Road A dark and terrifying reimagining of the wizard of Oz. If you want to check out the first trailer, click the link in the description to this episode and if you're not following my other two podcasts, please go check them out. Scary Stories and Fire and Scary Stories After Dark. The links are in the description. Thank you so much for being here and I really hope you enjoy this episode.
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Back when I was in university I used to work nights at a pub just a few miles from my parents house. We lived in the countryside so I had to commute to nearby Leeds on weekday mornings, whilst at the weekends I would spend my nights earning much needed beer money. The point is, when my late shift at the pub ended, I would have to walk about two and a half miles along narrow, poorly lit country lanes in order to get home. Yeah, we had a taxi service in a village nearby, but on a weekend it's pretty much fully booked at all times. That and I didn't fancy blowing my nightly wages on a taxi at the end of every shift. I was that frugal student. One of the great things about working pubs in the countryside is that the tips are phenomenal. The sense of community and old fashioned values meant that farmhands and landed gentry alike would always tip on their orders. Sometimes it was the take your own amount of about 20 pence, but sometimes they would leave you with maybe 4 or 5 pounds of change, especially when they would have a few too many and were feeling overly generous. My shifts usually ended about 11:30pm Once last orders had been called and we had cleaned down the bars. All the staff would then usually hang around for a drink until about midnight before going our separate ways. Now, this one Saturday in particular had been insanely busy. The weather had been spectacular and there had been some kind of garden festival in the area. This meant that all kinds of people from near and far had rolled through the pub and added to my tips glass. By the end of the night I had 112 bucks. It was more than I'd ever had and I'd be damned if I were to waste some of it on a taxi, especially when a belly full of lager would see me home, no problem. So off I went, merrily meandering homewards, feeling like a very rich man as I planned how to spend my newfound fortune. It was dark out, like really dark, with only a silver on the moon in the sky to light my way. But I was just too buzzed and cheerful to care. It didn't occur to me once that I would be in any kind of danger. About a mile into the journey back home, I'm blasting some AC DC in my earphones when I see the lights of a car coming up behind me. It passes slowly, slowly, and for a second I think the driver is about to ask for directions. But the car just keeps on going. Like I said, we had had a lot of city folk passing through the village since the festival was going on, so I thought nothing of not being able to recognize the vehicle or its driver. But once the car had passed me about 200 yards or so, it just stopped in the middle of the road. I watch it sitting for a minute or two, continuing on my merry way until it dawns on me that it's not going to just drive off. I got the weirdest feeling that it was sat there waiting for me. I know that sounds paranoid, but sometimes you just get a bad feeling about something, don't you? A kind of tight feeling in your stomach that tells you something is badly wrong. So I too stopped walking at the side of the road. Just stood there staring at the car's rear lights until it finally revved its engine and took off into the night. I wasn't freaked out, but I think I can thank the belly full of beer for that. If this had happened while I was sober, I know I would have been much more scared. I'm not some big tough guy like at all. So when a couple of minutes go by and I see a pair of headlights coming at me from the opposite side of the road, I'm not worried in the slightest. I just keep walking as the car passes me. But I realize as it does, it's the same car from before. And just like before, it stops just a couple of hundred yards down the road. I am now convinced that it's a car full of city folk who have managed to get lost in the dark. So again, I stop at the side of the road waiting for it to reverse so the driver can ask directions. Only it doesn't. The car does a U turn in the middle of the lane, then switches its headlights off and begins to creep slowly down the road towards me. I wasn't freaked out before, but I was then. In fact, I'm not afraid to admit that I was completely and utterly terrified. I had no idea what exactly the driver's intentions were, but they were obviously not good. My head was spinning with grim ideas of what they were planning. Flashes of robbery, kidnapping, and worse. I just started running, looking for a gap in the hedgerows so I could jump into one of the nearby fields to hide. I finally found one, scrambling over the dry stone wall and badly scraping my elbows in the process. My first thought was to grab my phone from my backpack to call the police, but the light of the screen meant that the driver would be able to find me pretty quickly. I panicked, threw it back into my bag, and decided that hiding was my best option. Even if I did get through to the police, it would take them a while to get here. It might be too late by then. So I'm crouching in the base of a hedge, terrified out of my mind, just trying to hide so that the driver thinks that I have just legged it off over the fields. The only thing I'm relying on at this point is my sense of hearing. I'm listening for footsteps, the car's engine, anything to give me an idea of what's going on on the other side of the hedge. I know it's cliche, but a couple of minutes passing really did feel like half an hour. And in that time, I hadn't heard a single thing coming from the road. When it got to the point that I felt like it was safe to check, I started to slowly edge up towards the section of the hedge. I dove over, readying myself to peek over the dry stone wall for any signs of the car. It's right then I heard the sound of car doors slamming. Not one door but two or three all closing at once. The car hadn't moved that whole time. They had been sat in the middle of the dark country lane, waiting for me to emerge. My heart was pounding at that point. I cannot convey just how terrifying it is to know that you're being hunted by a gang of complete strangers. I just bolted, hurtling across the dark field in the direction of a small wooded area. I know the area quite well, so despite me not knowing exactly where I would end up, it really didn't matter. By that point it was either legate or face being caught by the guys hunting me. I hid out in the woods for as long as I could, watching the field. I just crossed for shadows or torches, but again, there seemed to be nothing. When the coast was clear, I took off in the opposite direction I had come, crossing fields and staying off the roads until I could find my way back home. Even though it was the middle of the night, I woke my mom and dad and told them exactly what had happened. Naturally, they called the police and arranged for some officers to visit the next morning so I could give a description. A month or so went by and we had heard nothing back. I had stopped walking home and had started ponying up for taxis just to make sure I made it back safe. But I was actually managing to forget about what had happened or at least let it slip to the back of my mind. That's when the police called back. The guys had been arrested for committing an assault on an elderly man just a few villages away from us. They were part of a gang based in nearby Leeds where I went to university, who would drive out into the country at night where there are hardly any CCTV cameras before assaulting people as part of some initiation. I was glad they had all been caught, but it still really bothers me that some people seem to be so willing to commit violence against a total stranger. I still walk places at night sometimes, but I don't use noise canceling headphones anymore and I always carry a small knife just in case. If you work night shifts too, I really recommend you do the same. You never know who's out there lurking in the darkness just waiting to make you a victim. It's okay not to be perfect with finances. Experian is your big financial friend and here to help. Did you know you can get matched with credit cards on the app? Some cards are labeled no Ding Decline, which means if you're not approved, they won't hurt your credit scores. Download the Experian app for free today. Applying for no ding decline cards won't hurt your credit scores. If you aren't initially approved, initial approval will result in a hard inquiry, which may impact your credit scores. Experian this episode is brought to you by Lifelock. It's Cybersecurity Awareness Month, and Lifelock has tips to protect your identity. Use strong passwords, set up Multi Factor Authentication, report phishing and update the software on your devices. And for comprehensive identity protection, let Lifelock alert you to suspicious uses of your personal information. Lifelock also fixes identity theft, guaranteed or your money back. Stay smart, safe and protected with a 30 day free trial@lifelock.com Podcast terms apply.
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I work nights in the secure unit of a nursing home here in Massachusetts. For those of you that don't know, the secure unit of any medical facility is where at risk patients are housed. So anyone with mental illnesses, degenerative diseases, or general behavioral problems that mean they can't be given the same sort of freedom as the other patients. When I am on the night shift, I'm pretty much locked in alone with the patients, their rooms jutting off from the long, dimly lit hallway where my desk resides. Nobody likes working up there at night. It's not like it's any busier, but the lack of support means you just kind of feel vulnerable. Sure, I can just buzz for help from other night nurses if there's an emergency, but other than that. And it's pretty much just one or two nurses attending the entire ward. That and, well, it does get a little spooky some nights. I don't believe in anything supernatural. I have been a nurse way too long to still entertain ideas about spirits and other such Nonsense. But there have been a few incidents on the ward that have creeped me out. Here is a handful of one night. I'm right in the middle of my night shift. It's like two or three in the morning, and the ward is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. So when I hear a voice coming from the end of the hull, it immediately sets me on edge. I can see you, was all it said in this almost playful voice. I got up from my desk and looked around, but I was alone. No one was in the hallway. All the patients were still asleep. I can see you, it said again, even creepier this time. I tried to find the source of the voice, but it seemed to be echoing around the corridor. I checked, checked every room, but each and every one of my patients was fast asleep. I was practically shaking by the time I sat back at my desk, and I was rigid with fear for the remainder of my shift. I told one of the other nurses about the voice I had heard when she arrived in the morning to take over. When I described what the voice had said, she grew quiet before solemnly telling me that one of the recently deceased patients used to say that to his young granddaughter whenever she would come visit, she would hide behind the curtain from him like a little game. That's when he would say, I see you in that sing song way. We eventually discovered that it was someone talking in their sleep. Someone who had witnessed the little game played between grandfather and granddaughter and had it slip into their unconscious mind. Totally rational explanation. But for a while we were all really freaked out. We had one particular sweet old lady in the ward whose neighbor in the bed next to her was not a very nice person. I mean, not just rude or snarky. I'm talking full on vile and spiteful. She was horrible. Horrible to everyone, patients and nurses alike. But she was particularly despicable to the sweet old lady in the bed next to her. The sweet old lady would just smile and ignore her occupying herself with her knitting, even though her arthritis made her fingers hurt like the devil. Better to stay occupied, better to keep the mind busy, she'd always say. We were all real sad when she passed. It was quiet during her sleep, a painless way to go. Thankful for small mercies, I suppose. But what was really weird about the whole thing was how her mean neighbor began to act following her passing. Suddenly her less than friendly neighbor was absolutely terrified to sleep in that room. She flat out refused to sleep in the bed that we had once had a hard time getting her out of. And if by Some chance you did manage to get her into bed. She would anxiously plead with you to leave the lights on. One night she made it all the way out into the hall without her wheelchair, which was honestly sort of scary all on its own. I had never seen her walk without some kind of mobility aid. She was out of breath and there was pure fear in her eyes, the kind I had never seen in her before. When I called for assistance myself and another nurse took her to the TV room and let her sleep in one of the recliners. She never even said it, but we all knew what she was afraid of. She was afraid of the sweet old lady she had been so mean to, coming back to visit her during the night. This next one probably freaked the nursing staff out the most, so I'll end it here. We had this Greek grandmother staying with us for a while. She was a first generation immigrant who had lived near Boston for many years and hadn't bothered to learn much English. She'll be talking up a storm. No idea what she's saying, but it'll be loud enough to hear all the way down the hall. When I go down to check on her, she stops talking and pretends to sleep, only to resume her one sided conversation when I return to my desk. This'll happen a few times until she genuinely drifts off, but it's a regular occurrence. Most nights she'll repeat this same process, talking to herself in a rather loud voice until she falls asleep. So one day her son comes to visit and I jump at the chance to ask him why his mother talks to herself before she falls asleep. He asks her in Greek, but the face she pulled required no translation. She looked like her son had just asked her the silliest question she had ever heard before responding with just a few words. The man in my room her son relayed to me. She's talking to her friend. I'm sure I don't need to add that she stays in a room where there aren't any men. Now I'm pretty sure that she's just imagining her friend. She has certainly displayed signs of being in the early stages of dementia, but one or two of the other nurses here don't quite believe she is losing her mind. They talk about how she's the most lucid woman on the ward despite not being able to speak English. Maybe it's because the residents here are so close to death themselves. Maybe it's because the staff are in constant contact with mortality. Maybe this is just how we deal with the stresses of the job. But Some things happen in this place that we can't entirely explain. Or maybe it's just because we don't want to explain. Explain them. That the truth might be scarier than anything in any storybook. The sun was going down. I was at my favorite fishing spot. I maneuvered my boat through the lake, looking for the perfect spot for a nice evening of fishing. The water beneath me seemed darker than usual. It was gloomy outside, with thick clouds casting a somber tone across the sky. I casted my line into the depths. I felt a surge of excitement and anticipation, as I always did as I settled into a comfortable position on my boat. The stillness of the lake was embracing. The air was heavy, and a sense of solitude surrounded me. But I welcomed this. Finding solace in the quiet embrace of nature was my absolute favorite. Time seemed to always slip away, and I lost myself in the rhythm of casting and reeling. The light slowly faded from the sky, followed by an eerie ambiance that settled upon the landscape around me. My focus shifted from my fishing rod to my surroundings, my senses heightening as the tension in the air grew palpable. The wind whispered through the trees, creating an unsettling melody that reverberated through the silence. Suddenly, a ripple disrupted the tranquil surface of the lake, jolting me up from the focus of what I was doing. My eyes widened and I scanned the water, searching for the source of the disturbance. A huge fish. Something else. Wait. There. In the distance, I caught a glimpse of a figure. Someone standing waist deep in the water. My heart stopped for a second, and a chill crawled across my back. I strained my eyes to see more clearly, trying to make out the details of this mysterious person. The man was wearing faded blue jeans and a worn out cowboy hat. He was casting a dark silhouette against the darkening sky. A sense of unease washed over me as I contemplated his presence here at the lake. I started to move my boat closer to the man, and I could see that his face was partially obscured by his hat. His features seemed weathered from far away, etched with lines that told stories of a difficult life. A mix of intrigue and apprehension flooded my mind as I wondered who he was and why he was here. He was just standing there, staring at me. I cautiously called out, my voice echoing, uh, hello? Can I help you? Silence hung in the air, and the man remained motionless, his gaze fixed on me. Shivers ran across my body as a sense of foreboding intensified. I began to question whether it was wise to approach this guy, but curiosity got the better of me. I went closer. The water lapping against the sides of my boat. As I drew near, a gust of wind swept over my boat, traveled across the lake, and was rustling the trees. The man's eyes locked with mine, and then a chilling smile crept across his face. Fear hit me like a ton of bricks, urging me to turn around, but a voice inside told me to stay put. Something was off about this, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I had stumbled upon something beyond my understanding. Summoning all my courage, I called out once again. My voice was trembling this time. Can I help you? Why are you staring at me? The man's voice was low and raspy. He whispered a single word, Beware. His haunting eyes never left mine as the wind carried this word across the lake at me, leaving me with more questions than answers. This was all I needed to hear. I needed to leave right now. With a trembling hand, I turned my boat around, rowing back to the safety of the shore. On the other side, the stranger's presence lingered in my mind, a specter that would not leave me. As I drove away and left the lake behind, I couldn't help but think about the true nature of this guy, what he was doing there, why he was staring at me, and what that one word. Honestly, this encounter left me forever changed. And I know that some secrets are better left undisturbed, and some are most definitely hidden in the depths of that lake. I was a typical teenager, always up for an adventure and eager to make awesome memories with my friends. One weekend, my friend Lucas invited me to spend the night at his house. Little did I know that this seemingly innocent sleepover would turn into an absolute nightmare that would haunt me for years. Up to this very day, Lucas lived with his grandmother in an old, creaky house that was right out of the stuff of nightmares. The house was located on the edge of town. This place had an eerie aura, with an overgrown garden, cracked windows, the works, but I brushed it off because he was a good friend. I was excited for a night of video games and junk food. As the evening came, Lucas and I settled into his room, surrounded by video game posters and gaming consoles. Laughter filled the air as we embarked on virtual adventures and fights, and I was blissfully unaware of the darkness that awaited me. A few hours passed, and exhaustion eventually caught up with us. We decided to call it a night, and Lucas turned over in his bed as I settled into my sleep, sleeping bag on the floor, eager to drift off into dreamland. The house grew quiet and still. The night cast its shadow over the old walls through the window as I lay there, my eyelids growing heavier. A strange tapping sound broke the silence completely. At first I thought it was just my imagination playing tricks on me. But then the tapping continued, growing more insistent with each passing second. Confused and a little unnerved at this point, I peered out into the darkness, trying to locate the source of the sound. To my absolute terror, I saw a figure standing right outside the window. They were illuminated by the moonlight. It was Lucas's grandmother, Her frail form hunched over, her eyes locked directly onto me. In that moment, icy blood ran through my veins as she continued to tap on the glass, her gnarled fingers creating an eerie rhythm. I could not tear my gaze away. Drawn to the intensity of her gaze and the unsettling smile that slowly crept across her wrinkled face. Please go to sleep, she started, repeating her voice in a haunting whisper. Her words echoed in the stillness of the night, Dripping with a strange mix of urgency and desperation, I stumbled backward. My heart was now pounding in my chest. What exactly was happening? Why was Lucas's grandmother outside, tapping on the window in the middle of the night? And why was she asking me to go to sleep? Honestly, you cannot imagine the fear that I felt in this moment. With trembling hands, I mustered every ounce of courage I had to approach the window one more time, my curiosity overpowering my fear. Here, somehow. I peered outside, my breath catching in my throat. Lucas's grandmother still there. The smile widened, revealing her yellowed teeth, her eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity. Please go to sleep, she repeated, her voice now laced with a hint of malice. Her words no longer seemed like a simple plea. They held an unspoken threat of which I was not sure. Frantic thoughts raced through my mind. Should I wake up my friend? Should I call the cops? I was so uncertain of what to do, unable to comprehend this bizarre situation that I found myself in. I stood there, frozen in fear. Lucas. Grandmother. Tapping louder and louder. It got to a point that it seemed like she was trying to break the glass. In an effort to break the barrier between us, to climb inside the window with me. Desperate, I turned away, my heart now pounding in my ears, I finally decided to wake up. Lucas. She. Shaking him violently, I tried to explain what was happening. But as I turned around, ready to show him his twisted grandmother standing in the window, she was gone. Confusion landed on Lucas's face as he scanned the empty yard. He assured me that his grandmother was bedridden and could not possibly be outside. As far as far as he knew, she couldn't even walk. I could see the doubt in his eyes, the disbelief that shadowed his expression. Together, we searched the house, every creak of the floorboards echoing through the silence. We slowly crept down the hall to his grandmother's room. When Lucas pushed the door open, we saw her lying in bed, snoring, as if she had not moved in hours or even days. That night, sleep completely eluded me. The memory of the tapping, the haunting smile of Lucas grandmother, it just played on a loop in my mind. I almost decided to just leave right then and there. I wondered if it had all been a nightmare. But the fear that gripped me, it was just too real. I knew that it really happened. Over the years, that night stayed with me, a mark etched into my memory that I can never forget. And honestly, I still have nightmares about it. To this day, I never found an explanation for what happened. It remained an enigma, a terrifying encounter that left me questioning dreams versus reality. To this day, of course, I can't help but wonder what would have happened if I had fallen asleep. I really don't want to think about it. What did she have planned, if anything? What was she doing outside? Was she up to something slightly sinister? Or was she just trying to terrify me? Of course, I'll never know. I'll be thinking about it for the rest of my life. What you are about to read is both a complete confession and an apology. I don't know how much time I have, so I will keep it as short as I can. I was coming back home from work a few nights ago. It was dark and I was tired from my shift when suddenly a deer ran out in front of my truck. I locked my brakes but couldn't stop in time. Feeling my heart pounding, I just sat in my truck, staring at the motionless deer laying in the middle of the road. I had never killed anything before, intentionally or on accident. As much as I wanted to get home, take a shower and go to bed, I couldn't just let it lay there. Someone could run it over, causing real damage to their undercarriage. Or even worse, they swerve to avoid it and end up falling over 100ft into the river below, hitting dozens of trees on the way down. I couldn't let that be on my conscious. So I did what I felt I had to do. I put on my emergency lights and got out of the truck to pull the carcass off the road. However, as I was doing this, I saw something move in the deer's lower gut. Seeing this made my heart sink. Because at the time I thought maybe the dead deer was about to give birth while holding in a gag and pulling the body to get off the road. Whatever was in the deer crawled out of its backside, ran up the leg I was holding onto, and then bit my hand. It was too fast and the night was too dark, so I have no idea what it was. Instinctively, I felt flung the creature off of me and I heard it scamper away through the grass, wondering what just attacked me. I inspected the wound. It produced very little blood and looked no worse than what a cat would do when it plays a little too roughly. Since my heart was pounding out of my chest at this point and I had most of the deer carcass off the road, I figured I had done my duty and it was time to go home. As soon as I arrived home, I barely had the energy to take off my clothes, so all hopes I had of taking a shower were lost and as soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out like a light. The next morning I felt sluggish and cold. My teeth were chattering violently. It reminded me of a flu. Flu. However, my nose wasn't stuffed up and I wasn't congested. The wound on my hand was red but not swollen. Still, I was worried and made a call to set up a doctor's appointment. Thankfully, I was able to get seen right away. However, after the exam, the doctor said he could find nothing wrong with me, but the blood tests would take take a few days before the results would come in. I am not the kind of person to tell someone how to do their job, especially if their job meant years of education and twice that many having their own practice. However, I made it clear that I strongly disagreed with what the doctor said. When I got home, my stomach was complaining. I ate shortly before getting off work the day before, so there was no reason for my stomach to complain as much as it was. I tried eating soup, but it tasted like fermenting compost. No joke, that's exactly what it tasted like. When I checked the expiration date, I was surprised that it still had eight months before it was considered bad. At the time, I figured that whatever was wrong wrong with me was affecting my senses. My grandma said that 7Up and ginger ale was as close to magic as it gets when it comes to being sick. But since I didn't have any of that in the house, I made a few calls and had it delivered. However, that too tasted really bad. My stomach kept complaining, so in an attempt to silence it, I decided to make something that I could never resist. My mom's specialty meatloaf. If nothing else, it was my comfort food and my favorite as a kid. Lo and behold, it tasted amazing. However, when I tried adding ketchup like I always did, I nearly gagged from the smell of it. I ended up eating all of it in a single second sitting and afterwards I felt really good. So good in fact, that I decided to head into town to pick up a few groceries. As I walked around with the shopping cart going down the same aisles as I always did, the items I usually got held no appeal to me. I love bananas, but they smelled like they had been soaking in gasoline for a few days. The vegetables stank of curdled milk and the cheese might as well have been. Well, I'll let you imagine what that smelled like. The only thing that smelled good was meat. No, it didn't smell good. It smelt divine, the way I imagine heaven smells like. I filled up my cart with hamburger, chicken breast, pork chops, whole turkeys, chicken legs, ribs, spiral hams, bacon, hot dogs, and so much more. People looked at me funny as I went to pay for the items and some even asked if I was planning on having a cookout. I am ashamed to admit it, but I snapped at those people and told them it wasn't any of their business. When I got home I felt sick again and decided that some pork chops were in order. As I started to get everything ready, I opened the cream of mushroom and the smell that emerged from the can made me throw up in the sink. Later I checked the expiration date and saw that it still had a few months to go. The can was not dented or punctured, so there was no reason for it to smell rancid. I cooked the pork chops plain, only adding a little olive oil on the bottom of the glassware so that it wouldn't stick. The wait seemed to take forever. At some point before the pork chops were done, I found myself mindlessly eating away at the raw hamburger, taking grape sized pinches here and there. I knew it was disgusting, but I couldn't stop myself. Each bite hit the spot and scratched an itch that I did not know I had. By this time it was after office hours, but I called the general practitioner to see if there were any updates. All the while I kept eating the raw meat. I was too embarrassed to tell them about my new eating habits and instead sounded like an idiot when I had nothing to say other than to ask about the blood test, which I knew the results would be in sometime next week. Because of this, I could tell the person on the other line was annoyed. I Spent the rest of the day eating and worrying. I must have paced for a few miles before I decided to go to bed. At the time, I figured that I might be able to sleep off whatever was happening to me, and if this was not to be, it would make the day that the blood test comes in arrive faster. However, I couldn't go a few hours without food before the cravings made me wake up and rummage through the fridge. I blacked out at some point during the night and found myself outside at the wooden fence trying to bait the neighbor's cat with a raw chicken leg that I already ate half of. I was scared, paranoid that whatever bit my hand might have given me something really nasty, but I knew that worrying about it wasn't going to do me any favors. So I decided to do what I normally do to clear my head and I went for a drive. Usually this would have worked, but my stomach kept complaining. I'd been eating for nearly a day straight, so I knew I was not hungry. What else could I do other than wait for the blood test to come back? Trying to distract myself, I decided to turn on the radio and listen to one of the three radio stations that worked in this town. As I was fumbling with the knobs and my old beat up truck, I turned the corner and saw a man walking across the street to get his mail. I hit the brakes as hard as I could, but it was too little too late and he bounced off the grill of my truck and went flying through the air. Terrified, I ran out to see if there was anything I could do to help him. But when I drew close I could see that he was all sorts of messed up. He was conscious and asked me to give him a ride to the hospital because he would not be able to afford the bill for an ambulance. However, that was when I noticed that the femur was sticking out of his leg. I licked my lips and before I knew it I started biting and eating around the bone as the man screamed and in his condition, he was unable to get away or fight me off. I don't know how much time passed, but at some point I became aware that people were starting to gather. All of them were too shocked to do anything but stare. Embarrassed and terrified, I ran to the truck and drove away. It wasn't like I could go anywhere since Grey Hill is as a small town, most of the onlookers knew who I was. So I did the only thing I could think of and went home. There is so much more I want to say, but I don't have much time. The sirens are getting louder. I am sorry, it's.