Night Drive & Why I Had to Burn My Daughter’s Favorite Doll

From the executive producers of Stranger Things, comes a series that asks the question, are you sure he's the one? Something very bad is going to happen, is an atmospheric psychological horror set in the five days leading up to an intimate wedding. Starring Camilla Morone and Adam DeMarco, this isn't just a story about cold feet, it's about the visceral anxiety and mounting terror of realizing you might be marrying the wrong person. As Rachel questions whether Nikki is truly the one, her doubts spiral into something darker. And the show explores the ultimate horror. How can you ever be certain you've made the right choice? It's edgy and it's not a spoiler if it's in the title. Something very bad is going to happen. The only question is, what is it? Something very bad is going to happen. On March 26th, only on Netflix. The game has only just begun. Radio Silence directors Matt Bettinelli-Olefin and Tyler Gillette are back for round two with their new horror comedy film, Ready or Not To Here I Come. Samara Weaving returns as Grace, the battle-worn and bloody bride, and is joined by stars Catherine Newton, Sarah Michelle Geller, Sean Haddyssey, Nester Carbonell, David Cronenberg and Elijah Wood. After Grace marries into a mysterious family and is forced to play a life or death game of hide and seek, she emerges victorious. But what she didn't know is that by winning, she triggered a whole new twisted battle. This time with her estranged sister Faith at her side, the duo faces a shadowy group of rival devil-worshipping families who control the world, and they must fight to the bloody death for the ultimate prize. Two times the kills, two times the Satanic rituals, and two times the human combustion. Don't miss the full tilt insanity, Ready or Not To Here I Come, when it hits theaters March 20th. In a world of noise and uncertainty, IG is the investment platform that backs you. Take a Reflexible Stocks ICer, which gives you the freedom to withdraw funds anytime and replace them in the same tax year, all without losing your £20,000 tax-free allowance. And if that's not enough, pay no commission on your stock shares and ETFs when you invest with IG. IG. Trade. Invest. Progress. Your capital's at risk, other fees may apply, tax treatment depends on individual circumstances and is subject to change. 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 our simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Their discretion is advised. Hello from the past, everyone. I don't know why I did that. I know I already told you that I was going to have these pre-recorded, but just as a reminder, that me and the narrators are currently at camp getting into all kinds of fun activities, I'm sure. But I do kind of have to wonder what's going on when you're actually listening to these. I mean, for me, it's still February. There's no on the ground and all that, but I wonder what's actually going on right now. Huh. Anyway, first up for your stories today, from writer Joseph Yankevich and narrated by Jimmy Ferrer, Creepy Presents, Night Drive. I pulled the car off the highway, as far into the dirt as I could, to avoid being hit by any traffic. Although I didn't worry. I hadn't seen a car for two hours. A thin strip of pale light from the dying day slipped behind the mountains, leaving them dark, featureless forms. Where the light from my headlights died, only a black landscape spread out. I turned on the light above me and pulled out my map. I should have passed a town by now, wherever I was. I knew deep down, it wasn't where I intended to be. Somewhere I had managed to turn left instead of right, or figured I was where I should be, never bothering to check it out. You'd have thought I'd noticed taking the wrong road. Must have happened in the last place resembling civilization. I'd stopped for coffee to kill the drowsiness. There weren't many roads, but I pulled off the trick of picking the wrong one when I left. I thought about the woman I'd briefly met in the coffee shop. Pretty thing. She was sitting alone, mostly staring out the window lost in a thought. When I sat at the table next to her with my coffee, she turned my way and gave a smile just beyond perfunctory. I said, nice afternoon, and she nodded. The thing is, she kept looking at me as I sat. Enough for me to feel the need to say something. Traveling, I asked. She simply stared for what seemed like a long time before agreeing. Going where, I added. She glanced out the window again and started to speak when a couple came over to her and said they were all set. They carried a bag. The rainbows peaked out from the top. I pictured all the goodies inside, munchies for a long trip. The woman rose, her face somber, looking at me before following the couple out. I watched through the window as they got into an SUV. A waitress came over and asked if I wanted something else. I'm fine, I said. Before she left, I asked, is there much to do around here? The waitress rolled her eyes and looked at all the locals sitting around. And I got the message. Nothing changes. Then she lifted a finger. She pointed out there had been a murder recently. That terrible thing. Body torn into shreds. No one knew there was an animal around here that could do that. She leaned closer and said, of course, there's a skin walker. She gave me a smirk that still stayed on the side of Sirius. What's that? I asked. She shrugged the shrug of knowing just basic facts. She said it was a witch, turns into an animal or something, and you end up with that mutilated guy. I smiled about it. But she left not quite so amused. Since I wasn't on any schedule, I decided to spend some time in town. I hoped to find something interesting, a fact or two to regale friends with. But I was back on the road after an hour. I stared at the map and it became a useless piece of paper. For it to work, you had to know where you were first. No cell phone signal. Nothing I knew how to use it to find where I was. Going forward seemed better than returning two hours back. Since there had to be a road sign soon, my map would come to life again. First things first. I got out of the car to take a piss. The setting sun had taken the temperature down with it. A light wind flowed across the flat blackness, broken only by the crisp rustling of scattered bushes. I stepped to the side of the road, relieved myself and headed for the car. The snap of a twig and scraping sound made me turn. I thought of the mutilated guy and yanked the car door open and slid inside. Shoving the map into the door compartment, I put the car into gear. Ahead, the last of daylight had been reduced to barely a discernible glow. If I had known where I was, I might have admired the giant dome of sky peppered with stars. But being lost tends to give the landscape a less forgiving vibe. The West is a big place. Roads go on ahead of you, almost coming to a point. Back east when you crest a hill, you're almost certain to see a town or at least some sort of habitation. Out here, coming over a hill offers nothing but mind numbing emptiness. I wasn't completely unaware of this before heading out. Nonetheless it made me uneasy, especially at night. Inside the car, the soft glow of dashboard lights and low music from the radio gave the feeling of being in a cocoon against the night. The black shapes and muted landscape outside seemed like a world crowding around me. Pressing against the windows. Wanting. In. Seeing one car. One other traveler would go a long way towards alleviating the empty feeling of being alone. I thought of the woman in the coffee shop. Yes, she was attractive. If a bit standoffish. But right now. A little company would be nice. The gas gauge read three quarters full. That was a relief. Plenty of miles with the hybrid. I've probably got 400 miles left in the tank. I could traverse the state. There had to be a person or a town in that stretch. I mean, they don't build roads for no reason. At least the highway was in good shape. The tires gave a soft hum, which I had to be careful with because after a while, something like that can lull you into a nap. God, I thought. There's a lot of nothing out here. Must hand it to those settlers in their suspicious list. Candestogus. Who were even less about what was ahead of them than I am. My speed had moved up to 70. When I could have gone faster. I mean, who was going to stop me out here? To be truthful, I'd be glad to have a trooper pull me over. Best not to overdo it, though. What with critters roaming around here? Normadillo could take out a tire. Lots of stories to go with these wilds. Not all of them about settlers who's on marked graves. I'm probably passing by right now. Strange stories. Like the headless horseman. Not to mention snake people, giant tarantulas, a thunderbird that ate people. Maybe that witch that the waitress talked about. Only stuff. But out here alone. It's not hard to conjure up these things. Emptiness needs to be filled with something, I suppose. It plays on you. Even in the little time I've driven. I can't get over the peculiar loneliness. The dark feels impenetrable. My headlights don't just die ahead of me. It seems like they're gobbled up. Another rise in the road ahead and predictably nothing on the other side. No lights. No cars. Just a sweep of black shapes. It's like a blank slate out there and I find myself trying to conjure things to fill it. But I can't come up with anything halfway pleasant. I thought of the dismembered guy. Better to concentrate on the road and not imaginary things that would have me swerving to avoid something that isn't there. The radio seems more personal. The voice becoming more like someone sitting in the seat next to me. A presence in the car. Something real against a lifeless world beyond the window. Such a soothing voice. Barely fluctuating in intensity. Every word like a blanket softly pulled over me. Tucking me into a warm, secure cocoon. Safe. A careful lover. Lulling me to her. Easily falling into her embrace. Easy to slip deeper into yourself. The grinding sound of gravel and pings of stone and metal overcame the smooth voice. My eyes darted anxiously about. My thoughts still halved in the grip of those languid thoughts. A smooth road ahead had been replaced by rough shoulder. Spiny plants scraped along the car. Quickly I yanked the wheel to the left swerving back onto the road. My speed dropped to 20 and I gripped the wheel as though trying to stop something from getting away. Shaking, I slowly increased my speed. But now I kept it to 60. The landscape seemed even more divorced from the safe confines of my car. Not so much because I'd almost fallen asleep. But because of what might have happened had I got stuck off the road or even rolled over. There would be no one to help me. And I imagine at that point eyes peering from the brush. Everything rocks are studying me from Sandy Hillings, waiting to do God knows what. The same monotone voice played on the radio. I tried other channels to listen to rock music. Hopefully something to keep me awake. But they were just static or jumbled sounds struggling to come through. I went back to Breathless Betty. Was it possible the night could get darker? But it seemed that way. I wondered if anyone had actually seen something like the headless horseman. A flying bird munching on someone. Or even a witch. The expanse of desert around me had shortened as the black hills drew closer. Everything moved and I was glad about that. Although I kept glancing around to be sure. Crusting the next hill my heart expecting nothing. I felt a surge of relief when I saw a pair of red lights in the distance. Real lights on a car. And from what I could tell the car wasn't moving. My foot pressed the accelerator and I sped up to nearly 80. Distance was farther than it looked, but most important, the car still didn't move. The headlights were on. I couldn't see anyone moving around the car. People stranded I figured. As I approached I expected someone to jump out, ecstatic at seeing another car. But no one appeared. Leaving their lights on wasn't a good idea. A dead battery wouldn't help. I pulled up behind the SUV. It seemed familiar. I couldn't see any head silhouettes through the rear window. No one roamed around the car. And even in the dark I was sure I'd see anyone further away. I parked and shut my engine. As soon as I got out of the car I could hear their engine running. Geez I thought. I hoped they aren't slumped and their seats asphyxiated. I slowed down, a frame of one I might see. I gave a wrap on the rear window just to let anyone know someone was approaching. Lots of people do carry guns. My hand on the roof I stared into the side window. The overhead light lit the interior. There was no one. Only a purse and a bag that looked like it had some snacks in it. Another memory clicked. Glasses sat in the cup holder. I tried the door and it opened. Leaning inside I'm sure about doing it. I reached for the key and turned the engine off along with the headlights. I saw that the passenger side door was open. I went to the other side of the car. A chill breeze rustled the sage. The only thing breaking the quiet. For a moment I stared out into the desert. I called out. My voice sounded strange as it drifted away into the barren landscape. No voice answered. I couldn't believe anyone would be wandering out here in the dark. Even if they were, they must have been close enough so that they could hear me yelling. I called again just to be sure. I toyed with the idea that perhaps someone had stopped and picked them up. But that went nowhere since the car seemed okay to drive. Leaning against the car, I glanced back inside at the bag of goodies and the thought that had been incubating in my mind burst forth. This was the car that had left with the woman from the coffee shop. I stiffened. My foot hit something. A sneaker. My tension rose. As I reached for it, lights spilling from the car shadowed footprints, one said being too smaller. I picked up the sneaker and noticed a few dark streaks from the top. It could be anything, but it sure seemed like blood. I held it in the light, rubbing the spot with my finger. The substance was smearing. Around the spot where I had found it, there were more dark splotches. I studied them for a moment before placing a sneaker on one of the prints. It perfectly fit the dimensions of the smaller footprint. Many of the footprints were broken by slashes in the dirt and what seemed to be animal prints. None of them were very clear, but some of the spots looked like claw scrapes. And in other places, there were furrows in the sand, like something being dragged. The fable light from the car died a few feet beyond me. I wanted to leave, but felt another animal attack was unlikely. There had to be some evidence of what happened here. Beyond the car, I could just make out other footprints heading towards where I was parked. I decided to see where those tracks led and to get my flashlight. When I swept the beam over the ground, I saw prints, large and small, leading off into the desert. I hesitated at first, but I just couldn't hop back in my car and leave. I wasn't worried about an animal now. Only about what seemed to be three people in trouble. Well, I had to admit in trouble was a bit too optimistic. I thought of the sneaker and the blood. Still, what happened to them needed to be discovered. I stepped off the shoulder and into the patches of sage that gave off a slightly spicy aroma. Luckily, the plants weren't tightly spaced so that I could walk easily among them, all the while keeping my flashlight beam on the footprints. I had to admit, I wasn't accustomed to being alone in nature, especially at night. I pushed from my mind imaginings of what might be lurking in those bushes. I kept those thoughts on the prints, but couldn't help glancing back at the light from the other car. A gusty breeze kicked up a spray of sand, lifting my arm with the flashlight to protect my eyes. The beam fell and doesn't feed ahead. My hand tightened on the shaft, and I staggered back. Recovering myself, I pointed the light again at the spot again hoping I hadn't seen what I thought. No such luck. At first, it seemed to be like a pile of clothes, but that initial observation died fast. Amidst the dusty cloth were shapes easily identified. Without a hand and arm was obvious, and near at a gaping mass speckled with the white of bones. The worst sight was the head, separated from the body tucked under a sagebrush, the shattered face gazing at me. But only one body. I widened my search, avoiding looking at the mutilated body, hoping to find the two others that had to be here. Just beyond the body, I found one more set of prints, but they seemed different. More regular than the others, not sneakers, and mixed in with them were paw prints of an animal. Had the person I assumed was a woman, being killed further out, which didn't make much sense. Surging a bit more, they were just prints of a beast. Returning to the corpse much to my surprise, I found smaller footprints leading away from it. I followed them. They headed, raced to be honest, for the car. Their partial deep gouges spaced further apart indicative of a person running. Jumbles of earth, broken plants and hand prints, in the sand clearly indicating the person had fallen. Claw prints intermixed with them. At the car, foot and claw prints came together, around the sneaker I'd seen earlier. No one had to draw me a picture of what happened here. I gazed out at the desert wondering where the third body had been dragged. The girl, or the woman. I didn't feel the need to search for them anymore. The authorities, once contacted, would do that easily. After shutting the passenger door, I walked around the car, one last time for a quick examination, my flashlight, just in case I'd missed anything. My light beam swept the ground. There were footprints I expected to see, the dead guys getting out of the car on the driver's side. But one set made me do a closer inspection. These were odd looking ones I'd seen near the body. These though, headed away from the car toward the highway, disappearing at the edge of the asphalt. Had someone survived? The young woman, perhaps. Back in my car, I turned on the engine but sat there looking at the scene before me, pondering these questions. My car lights were still off and gazing into the dark. I also couldn't stop thinking about the ravaged body out there. Except for the missing woman. Everything seemed to leave only one impression of what happened. And yet, I felt uncomfortable. Nothing I could put my finger on, just something that crawled in the back of my mind. Maybe it was the darkness, the hollowness of the wind-swept atmosphere, or all those stories creeping back into my thoughts. Silly things that the night out here had somehow given substance to. I turned on the lights and drove slowly past the other car, a four-wheeled monument to horror. Once on the road, I settled down, a scene behind me diminished by thoughts of reaching a town, and giving over to the police my knowledge, and ending my involvement. Breathless Betty was still on, but now she seemed more apart of the loneliness outside. A half an hour later, as the road rounded on the outcrop of rock, I picked out a tiny patch of white far ahead. And as I got closer, I could see it moving. When my headlights finally caught it, I saw it was a woman walking on and off the highway. My first thought was that of the young woman in the SUV. I slowed down and hit the button to lower the passenger window. It was her. My God, I yelled. Are you all right? She seemed caught in her own thoughts and kept on walking. At first she said nothing and turned, holding me with sharp eyes that were in contradiction to her tense body. I started to ask a question but realized I needed to get her into the car first. When I mentioned it, she stopped and I hit the brake. She moved with some distress as she opened the passenger door. Slipping inside, she didn't say anything, staring straight ahead. Please, please, I said, my hand shaking on the wheel. What happened back there? How did you get away? Her reticence to talk to me made me want to shake her. Still, as I drove, she remained quiet, trying to keep my voice even. I asked about what happened to her. She remained passive but now I started seeing her hands clenching and unclenching. Her somewhat bent body becomes straighter and her face lost its thoughtful appearance. She did the oddest thing. She turned her head directly at me and her lips spread into a large smile. It seemed so out of place. I let the car drift off the edge of the road and had to pull it back. I grew angry. I had to know what had happened. The way she acted, I wasn't sure if she was in shock or not. But even watching the road, I could still sense her gazing at me. When I looked at her, she didn't flinch or turn away. Her eyes were wide. Her hands were wide. Her hands rubbing her leg. I asked again what had happened, but her smile only grew wider but lacked warmth. I kept glancing at the road. Then I could smell something. It was hard to place. Nothing pleasant. Nothing pleasant. Now body odor as I knew it or some perfume. More like something of the earth. The forest. I wanted to yell at her. Break her out of this silence and tell me what had happened out there. The words started to come out. For the first time I noticed the clothes she wore weren't the ones I saw in the coffee shop. They seemed, no, were the clothes of the other woman. As I thought of this, I heard a sound. A tearing, subtle, like someone very slowly ripping cloth. The odor became stronger. I stared straight ahead, watching the passing line speed towards me. When I looked at her, her smile had been reduced to a stern visage. Her hands had stopped fidgeting. Then she reached over, ignoring my trying to stop her hand and gently turned the wheel towards the shoulder, causing me automatically to press the brake. The car stopped, but she just sat there, quietly staring at me with feral eyes. Her hand lightly touched my face, holding it there for a moment as her eyes narrowed. As her eyes narrowed, oddly for a moment it calmed me. It was when I felt the sharpness as she pulled her hand away that I saw the claws. The ripping sped up. Both clawed hands cupped my face, and the smell of fur filled the air. I heard myself say, it can't be, before her smile became fangs in a beastly head that plunged into my neck. As they punctured my vein, I could feel the warm blood spurting. I said like someone answering a question on a quiz show. Oh, skinwalker? The beast only gave a mushy growl. Warning, the following film is so intense. We are only allowed to advertise it for 15 seconds. Excuse me? Zussie Bates. They will kill you, only on theaters March 27th, radar. In a world of noise and uncertainty, IG is the investment platform that backs you. Take a reflexable stocks, ISA, which gives you the freedom to withdraw funds anytime and replace them in the same tax year, all without losing your £20,000 tax-free allowance. And if that's not enough, pay no commission on your stock shares and ETFs when you invest with IG. IG. Trade. Invest. Progress. Your capital's at risk, other fees may apply. Tax-tune depends on individual circumstances and a subject to change. And next, from writer Jimmy Ferrer and narrated by Daniel Hewitt, Creepy presents Why I Head to Burn My Daughter's Favourite Doll I stared into the fireplace, tossing my daughter's favourite doll into the flames. You may think me a bad mother. You may even think me cold. But I had to. I did it for her. I would do anything for her. And although I know this might break her heart for a little while, it is for the best. Because of a series of events that have left me scarred, it was my only choice. It all started in a local general store. It was my baby's ninth birthday, and on top of her party, I decided to let her do something fun. Pick whatever gift she wanted from the store. My little angel's name is Charlie. We walked around for an hour as she strained and fretted over picking just the right thing. Eventually, we came upon a part of the store in the very far back. Here they had special collectible action figures, electronics and video games. When I was sure she was going to pick a game, she came to a hard stop in front of a doll. It was small, the size of an average teddy bear. She had on a cute little gothic style white and purple dress, white stockings, with crisscross shoes that went all the way up its leg, and little porcelain white arms. This one, Mommy. It's perfect, she said with glee. The head, though, creeped me out a bit. The hair was fine, just brown hair that fell onto the doll's mid-back. The entire head? Clear glass. It wasn't shaped in any way that was explicitly creepy, but the contrast of the completely clear head and the typical doll body like any other you'd see threw me. Worse yet, when she picked up the doll and hugged it, the head blinked repeatedly with a red light until she hugged it again. I'll admit it, I was apprehensive. I mean, I didn't like the thing, but my baby girl. It made her so happy. She beamed the most heartwarming, manipulative smile that she could muster at me. God, this girl knew all my weaknesses. Let's go ring it up, I said with a playfully defeated tone. Everything was fine for a few months, until I had to go to my local pharmacy. I lived in a pretty isolated area on purpose. This unfortunately leaves me with very few shopping options. The pharmacy closest to me without leaving town was called Garry's. I walked up to my counter pretty close to 9pm. Closing time. There was a new pharmacist behind the counter I'd never seen before. He was a towering monster of a man. He was at minimum 6.5 feet tall and at least 340 pounds. As far as customer service demeanor, his RBF left much to be desired. He had wild red hair and an equally wild red beard. I'm not one to usually let someone creep me out by mere presence, but something about him left me unsettled. And apparently, my baby girl felt the unease, squeezing and hiding behind her doll. Can I help you? He breathed at us. I told him my name and that I was simply here to pick up a prescription. He lumbered out of his chair, prunting, seemingly unpleased as he did so. The old wooden floor creaking wearily under his weight. I felt as though he kept looking at my daughter. A feeling I certainly did not welcome. He returned with my bag and dryly asked my daughter if the doll had a name. She smiled and said Lucy. A smile slowly crawled across his face and left me feeling slimy. I pulled my daughter close and mustered a polite goodbye as I left the store. The sun had already gone down an hour before. And due to my car breaking down the week before and me not getting paid for another two weeks, my legs were going to have to be my main method of transportation for a while. I have to emphasize how isolated this area is. There were hardly streetlights here. And the first traffic light is a few miles away near the shopping center at the next town over. Which is why I found it so concerning when I saw a massive silhouette following me and my baby from a distance. Closing the distance due to my kid's little legs. He got closer and I could hear his disgusting deep breaths. Hungry. Longing. A panting predator closing in on its prey. I pulled my daughter close to me, accidentally squeezing the doll. The immediate area briefly illuminated by blinks of red light. I snatched my child into my arms, panting as I ran as fast as I could. I was so close, only a few houses away. I didn't hear any breathing other than my own anymore. I slowed down, frequently looking over my shoulder as I hopped up on my steps. My poor daughter looking into my eyes with equal fear, concern, and confusion. Once we were inside, she squeezed the doll again and the red light stopped. I pulled aside my curtain to see that lumbering shadow pause and face the house for a few moments. Before he passed and fell out of my sight. That blinking red light seeped into my nightmares and daydreams. And with it, the feeling of dread. Of imminent terrors being inflicted upon me and my child. No woman ever wants to be followed. But even less than a pitch black darkness barely lit by front porches, hundreds of feet from each other. And even less so by such a monstrous person that resisting their strength would likely prove impossible. Like the unbreakable grasp of a crocodile's bite dragging you slowly into a watery grave. All you can do is watch and twist in its gnashing teeth. No matter how much you do, all you can do is watch. Thinking about that and what other events were possible left me sick. The weeks after this first incident did not ease my fears. Every night about 9.15 to 9.30, when the darkness outside was deep and inescapable, I would lay eyes on what was unmistakably his silhouette stopping in front of my house. Waving briefly and then slowly walking away. Why was he doing this? I could only make assumptions with the way he looked at Charlie. And none of them were good. I had to do something. I had been gifted a Glock 9mm handgun years before. I had never been comfortable carrying it so I had locked it in a gun safe. I even went as far as engraving my name on the side in gold. I spent some time at the gun range. And what do you know? I had a prescription to fill. I was ready for my next visit to Gary's. I was ready to end my dread. The tension was palpable outside the entrance. I had my gun tucked into my waistband, ready for whatever was coming. I left Charlie at home this time. I didn't want her to see this. Every thought in my mind going back to that night bathed in the blinking light of Charlie's doll. Blink. I recalled my panic breathing as I threw Charlie into my arms. I stepped through the front door. Blink. I heard that deep hungry breathing again. In my flashback I could feel his hot breath on my neck. I approached the front counter and placed my palm on the gun's grip. Blink. I slammed the door behind me after sprinting up my steps. And that look of fear in my baby girl's eyes bathed in a brief flash of red light. I gripped the gun tightly in my grip, ready to draw. But something was wrong. As I approached the counter, the cashier named tag reading Stanley looked depressed. Even addressed me by name on my weighted counter. Going to retrieve my prescription without me asking. My grip loosened and I took my prescription and left. I sat outside on the bus bench. I don't know why I hesitated. He's most certainly a predator, right? Was I being overprotective? Was I assuming the worst of this man because he wasn't what I found to be conventionally attractive? I stood to walk back home in the dark. I walked slowly. This unintentionally put me back in that uncomfortable position I had found myself in prior. Again, I heard footsteps, the heavy breathing, not too dissimilar from the crap people do when they prank call people. I walked until the breathing was deafening. I turned and he was no more than ten feet away from me. I pulled my gun and pointed it right at his chest. He gasped, continuing to breathe heavily. I asked him what his deal was with following me and with the breathing. Frankly, I was embarrassed with his answers. Well, I'm fat and I don't get around much. I've been trying to walk home from work to get in better shape. I live a few blocks past your house. He said embarrassed. I just close up after you check out. People usually get there late, so I try not to close before nine. I'm usually done closing up by the time everyone else comes in. How shameful. Mama Bear really crapped the bed with this one. Can you please put the gun down? He said through a deep gulp. I let my arm hang limp by my side for a moment and failed to find any words to make up for the misunderstanding. I almost killed this poor man. I holstered my gun and walked home. I didn't even bother looking to see if he stopped outside my house this time. I was too embarrassed to go back there, but eventually I'd have to. When I got to Charlie's school, I was informed by one of her teachers that she had already left earlier, which was odd as she always waited for me. When I got home, she was already waiting for me. She told me she had gotten a ride home from school with a friend. I guess if she wanted to be with her friend a little longer, that made sense. I let her know I needed to go to the pharmacy and to get her shoes on. After about 30 minutes when she finally did, we walked to Gary's together. I truly felt horrible and even planned on bringing him some coffee I picked up on the way home. What I found when I entered Gary's is what made everything come to a head. It was dark in Gary's. On the entry, I couldn't see anyone behind the counter. No lights were on. I tried a few light switches, but no luck. I called out for Stanley and walked up to the counter, but heard nothing. What I found sent me into a full, blown panic. Stanley was dead on the floor, blood pooling beneath his head. A single hole through his face just below his lower lip. It looked as though he had shot himself in the head. But the gun he was holding in his hand, that golden engraving bearing my name, my head was spinning. I fell back onto the floor and looked over at Charlie, telling her to wait outside. She shrugged and asked if I was okay. I got to my feet and sat with her on the front steps as I called the police. When they arrived, I explained every strange incident up to that point. And most of all, that that disgusting man must have let himself into my house at some point and took my gun. Had he visited Charlie while I slept, I felt sick to my stomach. I helped all I could in the investigation, and they had determined that although there is no other explanation on how he got a hold of the gun, my gun. It did not seem as though he stuck around after he did it. He left no prints in my house. Charlie acted her normal self, continuing to play with Lucy day in and day out. I even broached the topic of Stanley with her, and she assured me with her adorable little smile that nothing had happened to her. But even so, I'm glad he was dead. He had crossed a line and tainted the sanctity of my home. It would have ended there, but it wasn't for that damn doll. My poor sweet baby. I was answering some work emails when she came up to me and asked if I could help her fix Lucy. I thought she had torn her dress, broke an arm, lost a shoe, whatever. But what she had me looking at left me perplexed. Suddenly it made so much more sense. The clear glass head, the blinking red light. What I was looking at was a videocassette deck. This doll was a camera. I searched all over for an old camera that I could play the cassette on, a VCR with an adapter, anything to see what was on this tape. It took me going online and bidding for a camcorder from 1995. My anticipation of seeing what was on this tape was killing me. I think I got a few white hairs in the two weeks it took this jackass to ship the camera. I hurriedly put the thing together while Charlie was at school. I figured out a way to hook this up to my TV and popped in the tape. I think I forgot to breathe after I pressed play. The video started out innocent enough. The first time she picked it up and hugged it at the store. It blinked for the first time. It recorded my unpleased expression before fixing my face to buy it for her. Plenty of clips of her talking and having adventures with Lucy. If I had stopped there, I probably wouldn't have known how truly I needed to destroy this doll, how critical it would be for my baby. And then there was that night. I could plainly see from the camera in the way she was holding Lucy, that the deep breathing was most definitely Stanley's struggling to breathe as he was walking home. I could easily see in this angle how hard it was for him to walk, even taking some deep breaths and pausing in between. This man was no hunter, but that would explain how he came to sneak into my house like a creature of opportunity. The last clip was the longest. You could hear Charlie humming and singing to herself, leaving school early, alone. Instead of what she told me, she was doing. The video continues with her going into the house and up to my room. It doesn't take me long to see what she's looking for. My gun safe. I didn't close it all the way. I panic as I see her grab the pistol, wearing her purple princess gloves. She dances around with the gun pointing at random objects around the room, saying boom, boom, boom, as she pretends to fire the pistol. She hides the weapon out of sight of the camera and starts jogging down the stairs, continuing to run towards... Aries. I clench when I see Charlie very intentionally find the fuse box and kill the power, still humming whatever song was stuck in her head, drowning out the sound of the store powering down. She spins and dances as she walks into the store and walks up to the counter where Stanley is just starting to get up. I see her innocent little hands go into frame, pointing the pistol at Stanley. And before he can say anything, pulls the trigger. He instantly collapses to the ground, no longer in frame. I could hear deep, wet gasps. And then nothing. I was in shock. My hands were shaking. Ow, Lucy. That hurt my hands, Charlie said annoyed. She went around the counter and placed the gun firmly in his hand, patting his closed fingers softly twice before saying, There you go. You won't scare my mommy any more, monster man. The cassette runs out of tape after that. I was stuck on what to do for a while. But really, that's my baby, my whole world. She went above and beyond for mommy. So I'll do the same for her. I'm going to stick by my girl no matter what cost. But knowing what she's capable of, and knowing that Lucy is indeed a camcorder, it'll be in her and I's best interest if we just burn the doll. Who knows what else that thing will catch. And we certainly can't have that, can we? As I said before, I'm sure you'll agree. For more information on this podcast, including how to submit your own story for consideration, please visit creepypod.com. 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