Welcome to the Bloody Disgusting Network.

No.

This is Creepy.

A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepy pastas and

urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened or are simply fabrications

for you to decide. These stories make and take graphic depictions of violence and

explicit language. Listener discretion is advised.

Creepy presents the 31 days of horror, day 27, wet sheets in room 209, written by Linda

Evans.

A sign outside the door reads, do on tathers, with a saying left unfinished. The words are

scrolled into an oblong of wood and stapled to a worn out post. You ponder for a minute,

sure the words should mean something, but they don't. So you shake your head and turn

towards the house.

It looms skyward into thick gray clouds, ivy covering aged bricks of brown and deep

red, while a stack of scallop steps leads to the front door. You climb them slowly, looking

from mist-shouted fields to bent's head rows and back. The door creaks when you push

it open, like a scene from an old horror film. In fact, it's all like an old horror film.

The battered house, the mist, the thick gray that hangs in an eternal twilight. You don't

know why you're here, but here is where they told you to come. So here is where you are.

The stench of piss and stale alcohol fills the house, reminds you of the stairwell back home.

The one you pissed in yourself when you thought no one was around. After kick-out time at

the pub when the stairs to the tenth floor seemed to run on forever.

...