← Twisted Tales with Heidi Wong
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- [00:02]
Heidi Wong
Hi, listeners, it's Heidi Wong. Real quick, before today's episode of Twisted Tales, I wanted to tell you about another show from Crime House that I know you'll love. America's Most Infamous Crimes. Hosted by Katie Ring.
- [00:13]
Narrator
Each week, Katie takes on one of
- [00:14]
Heidi Wong
the most notorious criminal cases in American history. Serial killers who terrorize cities, unsolved mysteries that keep detectives up at night, and investigations that change the way we think about justice. Listen to and follow America's most infamous crimes Tuesday through Thursday on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music, or wherever you listen to your podcasts.
- [00:44]
Narrator
This is crime house. A teenage boy survives a horrific car crash that kills his sister. And soon after, he starts seeing a tall, faceless figure watching him from the trees. At first, people think the trauma has broken his mind. The nightmares, the voices, the violent outbursts. But the more Toby sees this figure, the more it feels like something else is happening. Something following him, something waiting. Stories like this are how Internet legends are born. One post becomes a rumor, a rumor becomes a myth. But. And before long, people start wondering if the monster in the story might actually be real. In this episode of Twisted Tales, I'll take you into one of the most disturbing creepypastas connected to the Slender man myth. The terrifying origin story of Tiki Toby and how grief, madness, and something lurking in the woods turned a teenager into a legend of Internet horror. Every story on the Internet leaves a trace, a comment, a thread, a screenshot, a whisper passed from one person to the next. And most of the time, it's harmless. A spooky little thrill before bed. But sometimes the story doesn't stay on screen. Welcome to Twisted A Crime House Original. I'm Heidi Wong. Every week, I'll take you deep into humanity's darkest stories and the creepiest corners of the Internet. If you've ever had a haunted moment or a twisted tale of your own, I want to hear about it. Drop it in the comments. The creepier, the better. And for early access and ad free listening, subscribe to our Crime House community on Apple Podcasts. In this episode, I'll be reading one of the biggest stories in the world of creepypastas, Tiki Toby. It's about a traumatized boy weighed down by the grief of losing his sister. And guest stars of the Internet's favorite monster, Slenderman.
- [02:37]
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- [03:06]
Narrator
So good, so good, so good.
- [03:08]
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- [03:18]
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- [03:21]
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- [03:38]
Narrator
If you haven't heard this story before, get ready to be freaked out. It was Originally posted on DeviantArt back in 2013 by a user called Castaway the long road home seemed to go on and on. The road continued to stretch in front of the vehicle endlessly. The light that shone through the branches of the tall green trees danced across the window in random patterns and every once in a while obnoxiously shining in your eyes. The surroundings were full of deep green trees forming a forest around the road. The only sound was the sound of the car's engine as it traveled down the path. It was peaceful and left a serene feeling. Although the ride seemed like a nice one, it lacked every form of nice from its two passengers. The middle aged woman behind the steering wheel had neat short brown hair that fit her complexion quite well. She wore a green V neck T shirt and a pair of blue jeans. Diamond stud earrings decorated each of her ears, which partially showed from behind her haircut. She had deep green eyes, which her shirt brought out and the lighting seemed to make them more noticeable. There wasn't anything significant about her appearance. She looked like any other average mother you would see in TV shows and the like. However, the one thing that made her different than the average mother's was the dark bags she had under her eyes. Her facial expression was gloomy and sad, although she genuinely looked like someone who smiled a lot. She would sniffle every once in a while and occasionally glance in the rearview mirror to look at her son in the backseat, who was hunched over partially with his arms held tight around his chest and his head pressed against the cold window. The boy lacked any normal appearance and anyone could plainly see there was something wrong with him. His messy brown hair went every which way and the luminescent lighting brought out his pale Almost gray skin. His eyes were dark unlike his mother's, and he wore a white T shirt and scrub pants that had been provided for him by the hospital. The clothes he had worn before were so shredded and blood stained that they weren't wearable anymore. The right side of his face bared, a few cuts along a small split eyebrow. His right arm was bandaged all the way to the shoulder, which had been shredded when his right side hit the shattered glass. His injuries appeared to be painful, when in reality he couldn't feel anything. This was just one of the glories of being him. One of the challenges he had to face while growing up was a rare disease that caused him to be completely numb towards pain. Never before had he felt himself get hurt. He could have lost an arm and felt nothing. The other major disorder he had faced, which got him many insulting nicknames in the short time he attended grade school before he switched to homeschooling, was his Tourette's syndrome, which caused him to tic and twitch in ways that he could not control. He would crack his neck uncontrollably and twitch every once in a while. The kids would tease him and call him Ticci Toby, and they mocked him with exaggerated twitching and laughing. It got so bad that he had to turn to homeschooling. It was too hard for him to be in a common learning environment with seemingly every kid poking or more like stabbing fun at him. Toby stared blankly out the window, his face empty of any emotion, and every few minutes his shoulder, arm or foot would twitch. Every bump that the car tires hit would make his stomach turn. Toby Rogers was the boy's name, and the last time Toby remembered riding in a car was when it crashed. That's all he thought about, unconsciously replaying everything he remembered before he blacked out over and over again. Toby had been the lucky one. His sister had not been so lucky. When the thought of his sister came, he couldn't help the tears that welled up in his eyes. The horrible memories replayed in his mind. Her screaming that had cut off when the front of the car was smashed in. It all went blank for a moment before Toby opened his eyes to see his sister's body. Her forehead pierced with glass shards, her hips and legs crushed under the force of the steering wheel and her torso pushed in from the too late inflated airbag. That was the last thing he had seen of his dear older sister. The road home continued on for what seemed like forever. It took so long to get home because his mom wanted to avoid the site of the crash. When the surroundings gave way to a familiar neighborhood, they were both more than ready to get out of the car and step into their own home. It was an older neighborhood with quaint little houses all next to each other. The car drove in front of a blue house with white windowpanes. They both quickly noticed an old vehicle that was parked in front of the house and the familiar figure that stood in the driveway. Toby felt automatic anger and frustration take over him at the sight of his father. His father who wasn't there. His mother pulled the car up in the driveway beside him before turning off the engine and preparing to step out and face her husband. Why is he here? Toby said quietly as he looked back at his mother who reached to open the car door. He's your father, Toby. He's here because he wants to see you. His mother responded in a monotone voice, trying to sound less shaky, yet couldn't drive up to the hospital to see Lira before she died. Toby narrowed his eyes out the window. He was drunk that night, honey. He couldn't drive. Yeah, when is he not? Toby pushed the door open before his mother and stumbled out onto the driveway where he met his father's gaze before looking down at his feet with a stern expression. His mother stepped out behind him and met her husband's eyes before walking around the car. His father opened up his arms, expecting a hug from his wife, but she walked past him and put her arm around Toby's shoulder and started leading him inside. Connie. Her husband began in a raspy voice. What? No welcome home hug, huh? She ignored her husband's obnoxious words and walked past him with her son under her arm. Hey, he's 16 and can walk by himself. His father began to follow them in. He's seventeen. Connie glared back at him before opening the door to the house and stepping inside. Toby, why don't we get you in your room to rest, okay? I'll come get you when dinner is ready. No, I'm 16. I can walk by myself. Toby said sarcastically and glared back at his father before stumbling up the small staircase and turning into his room where he slammed the door violently. His little room didn't have much in it, just a small bed, a dresser, a window, and his walls had a few picture frames of his family back when they were a family, before his father became an alcoholic and acted violently towards the rest of his family. Toby remembered when he was arguing with his mom and he grabbed her by the hair and shoved her onto the floor and when Lira had tried to Break it up. He pushed her and she hit her back on the kitchen counter. Toby could never forgive him for what he did to his mother and sister. Never. Toby didn't care how much his father beat him down. He couldn't feel it anyway. What he did care about was how intentionally he hurt the two people he cared about. And when he was waiting in the hospital where his sister took her last breaths, the only one who didn't rush there was his dad. Toby stood by the window and looked out at the street. He could have sworn he saw something out of the corner of his eye, but quickly blamed it on the meds that he was on. When dinner time had come and his mother called up to him, Toby came down the stairs and hesitantly sat down at the dinner table from his father and in between his mother and an empty chair. It was quiet as his parents picked at their food, but Toby refused to eat. Instead, he just watched his dad with a blank stare. His mother caught onto his staring and elbowed him slightly. Toby looked over at her and then down at his uneaten food, which he still didn't touch. That night Toby laid in his bed. He pulled his covers over his head and stared out the window. He was tired, but there was no way that he could fall asleep. There was too much he was thinking about. He had been debating on whether or not to follow his mother's directions and forgive his father or continue holding a grudge with his boiling hatred. He heard his door creak open and his mother padded into the room and sat on the bed next to him. She reached over and rubbed his back, which had been turned to her. I know it's been hard, Toby. Trust me, I understand. But I promise it'll get better, she said softly. When is he going to leave? Toby said with an innocent tone. With his shaky voice, Connie let her gaze fall down to her feet. I don't know, honey. He's staying as far as I know, she replied. Toby didn't respond. He just continued to look forward at the wall, holding his damaged arm near his chest. After a few minutes of silence, his mother sighed before she leaned in to kiss his cheek and stood up to walk out of the room. Good night, she said as she closed the door. The hours passed slowly and Toby couldn't quit tossing and turning every time he let his imagination take over. He heard the screeching of the tires, the screaming of his sister, and he would uncontrollably jerk. In bed. He threw off his cover and lying on his back, he pulled his pillow over his face and cried into it. He could hear his own pitiful weeping. He would have been screaming and crying if he didn't press his pillow over his face. However, after a few seconds he threw the pillow off his face and sat up, hunched over, holding his head and breathing roughly, tears streaming down his eyes, he couldn't help but cry. He tried to keep it in, but he couldn't stop. As he sat there shaking, he inhaled before he stood up and walked around his bed to the window and peered out. Taking deep breaths, trying to calm down, he rubbed his eyes and looked out at the group of tall pine trees across the street. He stopped suddenly and his gaze slowly centered on something standing under the streetlight he heard ringing in his ears and couldn't look away. The figure stood about 2ft shorter than the streetlight, long arms draped at its sides as it stared up at him with non existing eyes. The figure had no facial features to speak of. No eyes, no mouth, no nose. Yet it held Toby's hypnotized stare, seemingly peering into his very being. The ringing in his ears grew louder and louder each second he stared before suddenly it all went black.
- [13:35]
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- [14:35]
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- [15:08]
Narrator
okay, so to recap, we got to Toby, his mom Connie and his abusive dad. Toby's got this strange medical condition where he can't feel pain and he has a lot of unresolved trauma from the recent car crash that killed his sister. And then he sees this creepy figure standing underneath a streetlight and you won't believe what happens next. The next morning, Toby woke up in his bed and he felt different. He wasn't tired at all and when he consciously woke up it felt like he had been lying there awake for hours. He had no thoughts flowing through his mind. He sat up slowly and stumbled over to the wall, but when he stood up he automatically felt dizzy. He stumbled to the doorway and walked down the stairs. His parents were sitting at the table, his father was tuned in to the small TV that sat on the countertop and his mother was reading the newspaper. She quickly looked over when she felt Toby's presence looming behind her. Well, good morning sleepyhead. You've been sleeping forever. She greeted him with a hesitant smile. Toby looked over at the clock and noticed that it was 12:30pm I made you breakfast but I got cold. I was going to wake you but I felt you needed sleep. Her expression fell from happy to worried as her son resisted responding to her. Are you alright? Toby stumbled over and sat by his father. He felt as if it was on idle and had no control over his actions. He was seeing everything he did, but it didn't register in his brain properly. He reached out to his father's arm but his hand ended up getting slapped. His father turned to him abruptly and pushed his chair over with his foot. Don't touch me boy. He yelled. His mother stood up. Alright, knock that off. That was the last thing we need. The days went by and things continued on as they were. Connie spent most of her time cleaning the house and her rude husband spent most of his time ordering her around. It was just like how it used to be before the crash. Toby never really left his room. He would sit by his bed and tremble. His mind would wander but his thoughts changed too fast to be remembered. He would pace around his small room like a caged animal and stare out the window. The unhealthy cycle continued. Connie continued to be pushed around by her husband, and Toby remained in his room. Before he could think twice, he would begin to chew on his hands, tearing the flesh from his fingers. He would gnaw his hands until they bled. When his mother walked in on him while he was trying to do so, she reacted horribly. She rushed him downstairs and grabbed the first aid kit, wrapping his hands in bandages. Afterward, she demanded that he wouldn't leave her side again. Toby isolated himself so much that he grew to hate being around others. His memory grew glitchy as well. He started missing memories of minutes, hours, days, and so on. He would begin talking nonsense about things completely unrelated to the conversations he would have. He would go off about seeing things sharks in the sink as he was washing the dishes, hearing crickets in his pillows, and seeing ghosts outside of his bedroom window. His mother grew so anxious about his mental health that she decided it would be good for him to talk to a professional about what he was feeling. Connie walked Toby into the building, holding his hand and guiding him in. She walked him up to the front desk and began talking to the lady who sat behind it. Ms. Rogers? The lady asked. Yes, that's me. Connie nodded. We're here to see Dr. Oliver. I'm here with Toby Rogers. Yes, right this way. The lady stood and led them down a long hallway. Toby looked at the frame artwork down the halls and tuned into the sound of the lady's high heels on the hardwood floor, the click clacks. She opened the door to her room with a table and two chairs. If we can get him to sit here for a few minutes, I'll get the doctor. She smiled and held the door open. Toby stumbled into the room and sat down at the table. He looked over at his mother and the lady before the door slowly shut behind them. He began to bite at the bandages, to unwrap his hands. But he was interrupted as the door swung open and a young woman in a black and spotted dress with light blonde hair stepped in holding a clipboard and a pen. Toby? She asked with a smile. Toby looked at her and nodded. Nice to meet you, Toby. My name is Dr. Oliver. She put her hand out for him to shake, but hesitantly pulled away when she noticed his bandaged hands. Oh. She smiled nervously before clearing her throat and sitting down. So I'm going to ask you a few questions. Try to answer them as honestly as possible, okay? She placed her clipboard down on the table. Toby nodded slowly and held his restrained hands in his lap. How old are you, Toby? Seventeen, he responded quietly. She wrote that down on the paper that was clipped to the clipboard. What is your full name? Toby Aaron Rodgers. When is your birthday? April 28th. Who was your immediate family? Toby paused for a moment before answering her question. My mom, my dad and. He stopped. My sister. I heard about your sister, dear. I'm really sorry. Her expression faded into a sad, pity filled look. Toby nodded. Do you remember anything from the crash, Toby? Toby looked away from her. His mind went blank for a moment. He looked down at his lap, then in the surrounding area and heard a faint ringing sound. His eyes wide, widened and he froze in place. Toby? The counselor asked. Toby, Are you listening? Toby felt a shiver go down his spine when he saw it, a dark, featureless figure peering in at him. He stared at it as the ringing grew louder and louder until suddenly the voice of the counselor broke his trance. Toby. She yelled. Toby jumped and fell sideways out of his chair and backed up into the corner. Dr. Oliver stood up, holding her clipboard to her chest, a surprised look in her eyes. That night Toby lay in bed. His eyes were dazed as he stared straight at his ceiling. He could feel himself begin to doze off when he heard the scattered footsteps down his hallway. He sat up and saw that his door was wide open. When he stood up and made his way to the door, it suddenly slammed in his face, causing him to gasp and fall back. He was out of breath when he hit the ground and he began breathing heavily, his eyes wide open. He hit the ground and waited a few seconds before getting back up on his feet. Then he reached out and grabbed the cold door handle with his bandaged hand and creaked it open. He tiptoed down the dark hallway and could hear footsteps rustling around him, a faint giggling followed by the pitter patter of small feet, which sounded like a child had run in front of him. The hallway seemed endless, longer than he had remembered, like the ride home from the hospital. He heard the door creak in front of him. Mom. He called in a shaky voice. Suddenly a door slammed behind him, making him jump and turn around. Behind him there was a long eerie groan that sounded like a croak in his ear. That's when he suddenly came face to face with none other than his dead sister. Her eyes were clouded in white, her skin pale and the right side of her jaw dangling there by tissue and muscle, glass protruding from her forehead, black blood leaking down her face. Her blonde hair pulled up in a ponytail as it always was, and she was wearing her gray T shirt and athletic shorts, which were dirty and spotted with blood. Her legs were bent in ways they shouldn't be. She stood emitting a long croaking noise only an inch away from Toby's face. Toby yelped and fell back. He started to crawl backward away from her, but he was unable to break eye contact with her dead blank eyes. He dragged himself backward until he backed into something. For a second everything was dead silent except for his heavy breathing and crying. He met the face of a tall dark figure, the same figure that stood above him. Behind the tall dark figure were rows of children ranging from 3 to 10 years old, but their eyes were completely black and blood leaked from their eye sockets. When he tried to stand up, he tripped over a dark tendril that wrapped around his ankle so he fell straight on his stomach and got the wind knocked out of him. He tried to scream and couldn't make a sound, so he wheezed out before it all went black.
- [23:15]
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- [23:20]
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- [23:29]
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- [23:45]
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- [24:15]
Bad Women Podcast Host
23 year old Elizabeth Plunkett heads off for a night away with friends.
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Narrator
It's the summer of 1976, the best summer we'd had for years.
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Bad Women Podcast Host
Just hours later, she is kidnapped by two men in British Bay.
- [24:27]
Narrator
These are two career criminals wanted for rape in Britain.
- [24:30]
Bad Women Podcast Host
They are Ireland's first serial killers. While both men confess to Elizabeth's murder, no one is ever convicted. How could this happen?
- [24:37]
Narrator
We're being denied any sort of justice.
- [24:40]
Bad Women Podcast Host
Listen to bad women Presents Stolen sister Wherever you get your podcasts.
- [24:48]
Narrator
So we've got Toby passing out again after seeing Slenderman. So far, not so good. Think you know how the story ends? Let's find out. And just a warning. It gets pretty graphic. Toby woke with a start. He screamed out and sat up as fast as he could. Completely short of breath. He wheezed out and held his chest with his bandaged hands. It was just a dream. Just a dream. He laid back down on his bed and rolled over to his side. It felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest as he took in deep breaths. He went to his window and saw nothing. No ghosts, no figures, nothing. But he did hear the rustling and coughing of his father outside the doorway. So he walked into the living room and found his dad standing and having a smoke. Toby watched him from around the corner for a second before a burning feeling started deep in his chest. A boiling anger overtook him. He heard the little imaginary voice in his head. Do it. Do it. Do it. They chanted. He turned away and held his arms. He felt like he actually had control over himself. Unlike he did for the past few weeks that he got home from the hospital. He actually had complete thoughts for just moments before. The chanting of the little voices in his head clouded them. Kill him. He wasn't there. He wasn't there. Kill him. Kill him. They continued on. Toby trembled. No. No. He wasn't going to do it. What? Was he going crazy? No. He won't kill anyone. He can't. He hated his father, but there was no way that he was going to kill him. That was it. The last thought that he had before he fell into an idle state. Once again, the influence of the voices in his head was too much. He began to silently walk up behind his father. He reached over the counter and grabbed the knife and felt a sensation take over his chest. He let out a snicker. He began laughing so hard that he actually had to gasp for breath. His father turned around abruptly and he felt a brute force shove him onto the floor. His dad grunted as the air was knocked out of him. He looked up at his son who stood over him, grasping the kitchen knife in his hand. Toby, what are you doing? He went to sit up and put his arm out in front of him in self defense. But before he knew it, Toby was on top of him.
- [27:01]
Nordstrom Rack Advertiser
Stop.
- [27:01]
Narrator
Get off me, you little fucker. He yelled. The look in Toby's eyes was not sane. It looked as if a demon had taken control of him. He yelled and went to stab the knife into his father's chest. But his father blocked him and grabbed onto his wrist. Once again his father shoved him back, but Toby kicked his feet out in front of him and landed a hard blow straight to his dad's face. His father recoiled and pulled his arm away to cuff his face, but Toby got back up and drove the knife straight into his shoulder. His father let out a loud cry as he tried to pull the knife out, but before he could, Toby threw his fist straight into his face. He began to pound his fist into his head, laughing and wheezing. He cracked his neck and ripped the knife out of his father's shoulder. Then he drove it deep into his dad's chest, repeatedly stabbing him in his torso, blood spilling out and getting splattered everywhere. But he didn't stop until his father's body went still. He threw the knife over to the side and leaned over his body, coughing and panting. He stared at his father's smashed in face and sat there twitching until a loud scream broke the silence. He looked over to see his mother standing a few feet away, covering her mouth, tears streaming down her face. Toby. She screamed. Why did you do that? She cried. Why? She screamed. Toby stood up and began to back away from his father's bloody corpse. Toby ran into the garage and slammed his hand against the control panel on the wall and pushed the button to open the garage door. Before he ran out, he noticed his father's hatchets which had been hanging on the tool rack above the table, full of jars filled to the brim with old rusted nails and screws. One of the hatchets was new and it had a bright orange handle and a shiny blue blade, and the other was old with a wooden handle and an old dull blade. He grabbed both and saw a box of matches and a red gasoline tank. He held both hatchets in one hand and grabbed the matches and gasoline before running out of the garage, down the driveway and up the street. As he approached the streetlight that he could see out his own bedroom window, he heard police sirens in the distance. He turned around and the red and blue flashing lights came rushing down the street. Toby stood for a second before he pulled open the cap on the gasoline tank and ran down the street, spilling gasoline everywhere. Running into the trees, he poured the last bit of gasoline out before he reached into his pocket and pulled out a match. He struck it against the box and immediately dropped it. In an instant flames burst around him. The fire caught on the trees and bushes around him and before he knew it, he was surrounded by fire. The silhouettes of the police Police cars were visible through the flames as he backed away into the forest around them. His vision was blurred, his heart was pounding and he closed his eyes for a moment. This was it. This was the end. Toby felt a hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and looked over to see a large white hand with long bony fingers resting on his shoulder. He followed the arm that was attached to the hand up to a dark towering figure. It appeared to be wearing a black suit and its face face was completely blank. Tendrils reached out from its back. Before Toby knew it, his vision blurred and he heard the sound of ringing in his ears. Everything went blank. That was it. That was the end. That was how Toby Rogers died. A few weeks later, Connie sat in her sister Lori's kitchen. Lori sat next to her drinking a cup of coffee. About three weeks ago, Connie had lost her husband and her son in a few A few weeks before, she had lost her daughter to a car crash. Since then, she moved in with her sister. The police were keeping her busy. They had just finished cleaning up the case and the story had been released. Two weeks ago, the focus of the world seemed to have shifted to completely new stories. Laurie switched on the TV and the news reporter began introducing a new headline. We have breaking news. Last night there were four individuals reportedly murdered. There are no suspects yet, but the victims were were a group of middle school kids who had been out in the woods late at night. The kids had been bludgeoned and stabbed to death. The investigators have discovered a weapon at the crime scene and it appears to be an old dull blade hatchet. As you can see here, the picture changed to a few snapshots of the weapon exactly as it was left at the crime scene. Investigators have polled the name of a possible suspect, Toby Rogers, a 17 year old boy who stabbed his father to death a few weeks ago and tried to cover up his escape by setting a fire in the streets and the forest area. Although they believe the young boy had died in the fire, investigators suspect Rogers might still be alive due to the fact that his body was never found. Thanks so much for joining me on this episode of Twisted A Crime House Original. I'd love to hear from you. What did you think about today's stories? Anything you're dying for me to come COVID Leave a comment or review wherever you're tuning in. And be sure to follow Twisted Tales so we can keep building this community together. I'll be back next week with another story guaranteed to keep you up at night. Until then, stay curious and remember, there's no reason to fear the dark unless you try to hide from it.
- [32:11]
Heidi Wong
Thanks for listening to today's episode of Twisted Tales. Not sure what to listen to next? Check out America's Most Infamous Crimes, hosted by Katie Ring. From serial killers to unsolved mysteries and game changing investigations, each week Katie takes on a notorious criminal case in American history. Listen to and follow America's Most Infamous Crimes now.
- [32:32]
Narrator
Wherever you listen to your podcasts.