This Christmas, discover the Whitney Houston story you never knew.

Wait, how about it? It's all in the same name.

From the right of Bohemian rap city.

This is what they want, America's sweetheart.

You won't give it to them.

She has to watch me.

I want to dance with somebody only in cinemas now.

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, all of our simply fabrications is for you to decide.

These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language.

Listen to discretion is advised.

Creepy presents.

My son was sent by an angel, written by visual dreaming and narrated by Michelle Cain.

I was married to young.

My mother and father had always been good to me.

Did as best they could to raise me right.

Took me to church every Sunday in our little one room church house.

Some a time was when the congregation could suss out the truly faithful in our sleepy Georgia town.

Our little old church had any manner of cooling, except opening the windows and setting off the ceiling fans,

that one of our generous patrons had seen fit to purchase and hang up for us.

And those children who were too old to have an eye turned to dozen off during service found themselves fidgeting, doodling and counting the wood slats in the ceiling.

...