I Was An Air Traffic Controller | Creep Cast

I started listening to Creepcast as a joke. “Haha, spooky podcast, funny guys, little ghost stories,” I said. That was a year and a half ago. I no longer sleep normally. I no longer think normally. Every creak in my house is immediately followed by me whispering, “Okay but hear me out… what if that’s Mr. Wellers?” My family is concerned. My mother asked why I was standing motionless in the kitchen at 3 AM holding a flashlight under my chin. I told her, “You wouldn’t get it. This is atmosphere.” Then I spent forty-five minutes explaining an obviously fake haunted forum post like it was classified CIA documentation. She cried. I can’t hear the words “creepy,” “woods,” or “basement” without launching into a twelve-page schizophrenic theory about skinwalkers, cursed VHS tapes, and why a man named Trevor definitely should not have opened the cellar door in 1997. WHO IS TREVOR. WHY WAS HE ALONE. WHAT DID HE SEE. Nobody knows. Nobody is asking the right questions. I’ve begun narrating my own life like I’m in an episode. I dropped a spoon yesterday and immediately muttered, “What happened next would haunt me for years.” I opened my closet and stared into it for ten straight minutes waiting for “the reveal.” There was no reveal. Just pants. But for a moment… the pants looked… hyper realistic. My dog barked at the hallway and I packed a bag. Not because I was scared, but because I understood the rules. In stories like this, the hallway always wins. Creepcast has ruined me. I am now physically incapable of reading a mildly unsettling Reddit post without sitting down like an ancient scholar and declaring, “This… this is either a good story, untreated psychosis, or a government coverup for the shiny gentlemen in the mountains.” And worst of all? I keep listening. Because somewhere out there is a story so deeply cursed, so profoundly unwell, so spiritually rancid, that it will finally scratch the itch in my rotten little monkey brain and make me lean back in my chair, eyes wide, whispering only one thing: “He’s right behind me.”

I was an air traffic controller, but I failed to spot the second plane, piloted by happy appy heading towards the towers

Wendigoon was caught stealing lava lamps and rubbing the oil on himself before he did youtube

“This would be more funnier if we were eight years old” followed by Harry waking Wendigoon up for reading time and bringing them capri suns. At least there’s no lack of effort.

When they talked about what a British skin walker would be called, my mind immediately went to "Flesh Pedestrian."

They killed Spirit Airlines for this story

Meanwhile Isaiah has completely blended into the chair in his paisley shirt.

I knew u/inaace. I was an active r/golf member during his decline. We all came together as a community and helped pay for his dream trip to Scotland to play on "The Old Course". The first golf course made by man. As soon as you said his name it immediately reminded me of him. He was a truly incredible person and he is missed by the community.

“Skinwalker is kind of a slur” is the funniest damn thing Isaiah has ever said on here.

I think if they started filming at night next to a campfire in the woods they’d be a lot more scared reading these. I always thought that would be a great idea for a special episode!