B1 Intermediate US 141 Folder Collection
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(dramatic music)
- [Narrator] Monsters are real.
The story you are about to hear
was attempted to be verified
by internet sleuths.

What they found only
raised more questions.

(dramatic music)
There was no way Dylan should
have survived the car wreck.

He was driving 30 miles
above the speed limit,

passing up cars like
he was on a race track

when he clipped the
fender of a station wagon.

At normal speeds, the accident
might have been a bad one,

but at nearly 95 miles
per hour Dylan's Camry

might as well have been
made out of papier-mache.

The elderly couple in the
station wagon Dylan hit

were killed upon impact
with a concrete wall.

Their frail bones had
shattered like glass,

and their organs had ruptured to the point
where it would have been more appropriate
to say that they had
exploded inside their bodies.

The driver of the SUV
caught in the aftermath
of the Camry's rolling

was paralyzed when the
steering wheel of her car

had rammed her so hard that
it had crushed her spine.

But worst of all was
what happened to the baby

in the backseat of the SUV.
It was too gruesome to recount.
Three fatalities,
(dramatic music)

two people paralyzed,
and hundreds of thousands
of dollars of damage,

but Dylan managed to pull
himself from the wreckage

with only a small
scratch on his left hand.

When I picked him up from the hospital,
I was surprised to find
that Dylan had no remorse.

He was a spoiled rich kid willing to blame
every other driver but himself.
"I need a drink, man," he groaned
as we pulled up to his house.
"Come on in and let's get plastered."
I didn't think it was a good idea,
but I knew Dylan had just
survived a traumatic incident.

So I agreed to hang out for a
while to keep an eye on him.

We cracked open a cheap bottle of whiskey,
and after a few drinks he started
opening up to me about the accident.
"When it's your time to go," he told me,
"playing by the rules
isn't gonna save your life.

"Those people were playing it
safe, driving the speed limit,

"using their blinkers just
like they were supposed to.

"Guess what happened?
"They're dead, and the guy doing 100
"got away without a scratch."
"How about the one on your hand," I asked?
I pointed to a peculiar
crescent-shaped scratch

on Dylan's left hand.
"Did you get that in the crash?"
Dylan seemed surprised by the question.
He glanced at the little scratch
on the back of his hand
and shrugged again.

"Don't know; first time I noticed it."
There was something uncanny about it
that I found unsettling.
I thought about how little
Dylan seemed to care

about the deaths that he
had caused and wondered

what could compel a person
(liquid pouring)

to be so self absorbed.
(man laughing)

I should have said something
to him then, but I didn't.

Instead, we both got stinking drunk,
and I fell asleep on the couch.
I'm not sure what time I passed out,
but it was pretty late when
I felt a hand on my shoulder.

(door opens)
"Did you hear that?" Dylan whispered.
"I think someone's in the house."
I told him that he was
just drunk and paranoid.

I watched him start towards his bedroom
and I was just about to go back to sleep
when I saw him stop, suddenly.
He jerked and fell on
the floor then started

scrambling backwards into the living room,
trying desperately to
get away from the horror

that was in his bedroom.
His face had gone white,
frozen into a petrified scream.

He looked as if he had seen a ghost.
The creature came crawling
into the living room.

The most terrible thing
I'd ever laid eyes on.

It was a towering, black monstrosity
that wore a crown of bones,
with gaping, empty eyes.

I was too terrified to run,
too terrified to scream.

It raised a long, bony hand towards Dylan
as if reaching out for him.
"Help!" He screamed at me.
"Help me!"
(creature vocalizes)

But I just clenched my
eyes shut and played dead.

I was too afraid that if I moved that
it would turn on me next.
Then came the sounds of bones crunching.
The sound of cartilage tearing.
Of tendons shredding.
And then the screams, too.
The horrible screams of
Dylan begging the creature

for mercy, begging me for help.
All the while, I kept my eyes
shut as tight as possible

and pretended not to hear him.
The crazy part is, I'm not
sure if I ignored his pleas

out of fear for my own
life or because deep down,

I thought he deserved what he was getting.
Eventually his screaming came to a stop,
and after a few minutes,
I worked up the courage

to open my eyes.
I was sure that when I
did, I would be greeted by

that thing staring at me
through its big, empty

eye sockets, but the creature was gone.
And all that remained was Dylan.
Or rather, what was left of
him, on the living room floor.

His body was a mangled mess.
Nearly all of Dylan's
limbs had been snapped

and his skull had been caved in.
But what was worst of all was his face.
The petrified scream had remained,
a reminder of the horror
we had both experienced.

It looked like the car wreck he caused
had finally caught up with him.
The wound on his hand, the
peculiar crescent shape

that had been his only injury
from his earlier accident

had changed as well and I found this to be
the most curious thing of all.
It had gone from a crescent,
to a perfect, bloodied circle.
I placed an anonymous call to the police
when I drove back to my place.
I'm worried they might trace
Dylan's death back to me,

but even though I was
there, I don't know how they

could convince themselves
that I was the culprit.

The way Dylan's body was disfigured,
there's no way one person
could have done that.

It would take two tons of metal traveling
at high speeds on the highway
to maul a body in that way.

That, or maybe,
just the Angel of Death taking back a soul
that wasn't supposed
to get a second chance.

(tense music)
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SOOT | "Encounters" feat. MrCreepyPasta | Crypt TV Extended Universe | Creepypasta

141 Folder Collection
Amy.Lin published on June 20, 2019
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