Welcome to Creep'scast.

My grandpa left me an obscure map, written by Sunhead Prime.

Can you sign for this?

The impatient UPS driver said after handing me a small box, I'm not expecting anything.

Who's it from? They shrugged. I just deliver a man. Maybe somebody out there wanted to surprise

you with a gift. I signed and they headed to their next stop.

I looked down at the box in my hands.

There wasn't a return address.

Despite its size, the package was heavy.

Inside I found three things.

A plain brass urn, an old hand-drawn map, and a small note written

in my grandpa's handwriting. This was odd for several reasons, most notably because I'd heard

my grandpa had died six months earlier, and we weren't close. In my defense, he wasn't close

to anyone, he successfully't close to anyone.

He successfully drove off two wives, three kids, and six grandkids.

Shed all of us as easily as a squirrel climbing a tree.

He was the kind of man who would buy a cake for a party,

only to serve himself a slice and throw the rest away.

Money allowed him to pursue his more eccentric hobbies, hunting local legends, searching for rare artifacts, and chasing legacy. Often

those three things came together in a layer cake of poor decisions. Before he died, he had gotten

embroiled in a real estate purchase that had anchored

an entire small town. And Grandpa had that effect on people. For some reason, I had been sent these

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