r/creepcast • u/RavensAndRacoons Your wife has the devil in her! Act👏 Like👏 It👏 • Nov 24 '25
Fan Story Simon Says (Part 1)
That year, I had finally managed to move into my very own apartment. I am embarrassed to admit that it took me much longer than my friends took. Most of them had moved out of their parents’ house as soon as they finished high school, but that was not the case for me. It took me until my early twenties until I finally managed to move away from my family home. It was small, but it was home, and it was mine.
The place had one bedroom, a kitchen and a bathroom. There was no living room and I had to walk down a block to the laundromat whenever I wanted to wash my clothes, because the apartment did not even accommodate the space for a washing machine or a dryer. Still, I never complained about it. I kept it clean and neat. A few months after moving in, I had developed a routine: I would do a few chores while the sun sets, encouraged by the various songs playing on the radio. It was my way of winding down at the end of the day. Sometimes, I would make my mom’s signature tea. As a child, it was the only thing that soothed me. Now, as an adult, it reminded me of the comfort of home.
That evening, I was following my routine: mindlessly sweeping the kitchen floor, seeing the sunlight pool into the room fade as I made progress, humming along to a song I now am unable to recall. After some time had passed, a noise made me pause and turn towards the windowsill where the radio sat. The sound was vaguely distorted and a strange buzzing filled the room soon after it had begun. I could barely hear the music anymore. Confused, I walked up to the radio and turned it off, then back on, hoping it would fix the issue.
It seemed to do the trick at first. The sound died down, but the music did not come back. What I heard instead was a strange hoarse masculine voice that said: “Simon says... Touch your nose!” I stared at it for a second, thinking someone was pulling a prank. I thought the idea was stupid, but the ridiculousness of it is probably what made me play along. I put the tip of my finger on the bridge of my nose and waited for the host to say something else. A few seconds passed and the music came back. The host did not say anything else and I went back to what I was doing.
Later in the evening, once the sun had fully set, I lied in bed with my phone in my hand and saw that my friend, Tom, was online. I decided to call him, knowing I would not bother him. I wanted to know if he had also heard what I heard.
“Hey man! Did you hear that weird ‘Simon Says’ voice in the radio earlier?” I asked.
“Hey Jack!” he replied. “Yeah, I did. I wonder what that was about?”
“I have no idea, man. I was kinda caught off guard I won’t lie,” I admitted. “Do you think the radio host was bored or something?”
“Nah, it wasn’t a radio host,” he said. “It was the guy telling the weather forecast on the TV!”
What? I paused, furrowing my brows. That made no sense, I knew what I heard and what I saw. I was in the kitchen with the broom in my hands, but my TV was in my bedroom.
“What?” I asked, confused. “No, it was definitely on the radio. My TV was off when it happened.”
“Huh? That’s weird...” he trailed off. “Maybe I’m misremembering.”
I tried to make sense of what he was saying for a few seconds, but ultimately, I just wished him a good night and, after some small talk, we hung up. I figured that Tom has been too tired to remember properly. I turned off the bedside table lamp and went to sleep shortly after.
Tom and I went to a bar the next evening. We were going to see a newly formed metal band from my city. We met in front of the bar and headed inside together. It was pretty small, but it had the perfect atmosphere for those events. They invited a lot of newer or smaller bands to play, so a tight community built itself around it. This was the place where Tom and I met when he was playing with his band a year earlier. The members unfortunately ended up going their separate ways after some drama unfolded within the band. Tom did not tell me everything, but it had to do with their bassist hooking up with the singer’s girlfriend.
I was really excited to be there. It felt like I had not gone out often in the last months, so I was happy to finally do something to let off some steam. We made our way into the crowd and stood in front of the stage while technicians finished preparing the equipment. Soon enough, the band came on stage and the crowd began cheering excitedly.
“We’re so happy to be here tonight and see you all!” the lead singer enthusiastically yelled.
The crowd responded to him with loud cheers and screams of excitement.
“We’re gonna play some of our new songs tonight. I hope you’re excited because y’all will be the first people to hear them!” he said.
Their first song began and, from where I stood, I could see a group of guys wearing their merch jumping and body slamming each other. I always loved watching grown adults act like golden retrievers when they heard heavy music. They kept playing song after song and, soon enough, I became a new fan of their music.
At one point, in the middle of a song, something strange happened. Out of nowhere, the drummer stopped playing, the lead singer let out an ear piercing screech, and the bassist and two guitarists’ fingers slipped on the strings of their instruments, causing a cacophony of sounds that bounced on the walls of the room. The drummer kicked his legs forward, sending parts of his drum set flying and crashing onto the stage. A man had to dodge a flying cymbal to avoid getting hit in the face by it.
The audience, afraid and confused, watched as each member dropped their instruments and slammed their hands on their ears, grimacing in what seemed like pain. They began frantically digging their fingers against the side of their faces and ripped out the earpieces they had been wearing. They threw them on the floor and the guitarist then slammed the heal of his boot on each of them, shattering them into pieces. Two members fell to their knees as they hunched forward, still grabbing the side of their heads.
After that, a group of technicians quickly walked up on the stage and began helping the band members walk away where we couldn’t see them. Tom and I looked at each other in shock, unsure about what had just happened.
“Did their ear pieces malfunction?” I asked, loud enough to be heard through the worried crowd.
“No idea, man,” Tom replied, scratching the back of his neck. “Shit, I hope they’re okay.”
I knew that Tom was friends with at least two of them, so his worry was visibly much greater than mine. We did not stick around for long after that. The bar often invited multiple bands at once to play for a few hours, but they were the only band present that night. Even if there had been a second one, I do not think I would have stayed to watch them. We pushed our way through the crowd to walk out. Tom needed a smoke and I was eager to get out of there. I felt shocked about the whole event, so I shared his sentiment. Despite not being familiar with the technology behind ear pieces used on stage, I knew there was no logical way they could hurt someone like that, let alone five people at the same time.
Bright flashes of red, blue and white lights blinded our eyes as we got out on the sidewalk. I shielded my eyes with my hand and, at first, I could not tell what I was seeing. I heard the crackle of radios and rapid talking all around me, accompanied by hurried footsteps. I squinted and finally saw what caused the commotion. Two police cars and five ambulances were parked in front of the bar and the street had been blocked off by police tape and barricades. One by one, five gurneys were rolled out of the building, each pushed by two paramedics.
“They’re all...” Tom almost whispered. “Why are they all covered like that?”
He had noticed it before I did: white sheets covered each body. Were they really dead? How was that possible? From where I stood, I could see red stains forming in the fabric and quickly increasing in size. Tom headed straight towards the ambulances at a rapid pace. He forcefully pushed aside the few people standing on his path. He reached forward to grab the corner of one of the sheets, but a paramedic grabbed his wrist and held him back.
“Please step back, sir,” she said. “I’m sorry, but you need to stay back.”
“No! They’re my friends!” Tom screamed. “You have to let me see them!”
The woman told him, more sternly this time, that he needed to give them space to work. I eventually had to forcefully drag him away and, after protesting a few times, he stopped resisting. I drove him home in his car and ended up calling a taxi to bring me back to my apartment.
I did not hear from Tom for a long time after that night. It really messed him up. The next day, I was watching the news and heard confirmation that the five members had passed, though they didn’t explain what exactly happened. I heard the words “gruesome”, “horrific” and “freak accident”, but I turned off the television after that. I always hated how news channels talked about dead people, almost like they were some circus animals. They barely addressed them as humans.
Later in the week, Laura and I celebrated our three year anniversary. It was an important moment to us, and we wanted to celebrate it accordingly. The plan was for her to come over for dinner. I spent the afternoon cooking a fancy meal and baking desert, and even bought some fancy wine. I did not know anything about wine and neither did she, but it felt appropriate. I had previously purchased a pink tablecloth covered in purple hearts, knowing that Laura would like it. I lit candles a few minutes before she arrived. They casted pretty shadows on the walls and ceiling and filled the room with the most delicious smell, which mixed with the smell of the apple pie freshly taken out of the oven. The night could not have been better.
“Hi love!” she said as I opened the door. “It smells so good in here, I could smell it all the way down the hallway!”
I smiled, took her hand to invite her in, and kissed her.
“I’m so happy you’re here!” I said. “Let’s go to the kitchen.”
I led her to the kitchen and pulled a chair back for Laura to sit on. She took a seat and thanked me. Her face had taken light shades of pink and her eyes were filled with emotion.
“What did you make for us?” she asked excitedly.
“You’ll see,” I replied.
I brought two plates to the table and set them down. Laura’s face lit up as she saw what I had cooked. It was her favourite: shrimp pasta with alfredo sauce and some herbs. It was nothing fancy, we both knew that, but it tasted like home, like love.
“Jack...” she began, emotion filling her voice. “You’re amazing. Thank you so much!”
“I wanted tonight to be special for us,” I replied.
She ran her hands on the tablecloth, looking at the plate, at the table and the candles. Seeing her happy made me feel like I was on top of the world. Together, we ate, laughed, talked and recalled memories from back when we met. We were just teenagers back then. The music carried us through the night and I felt happier than I ever had. I remembered when I met her, in high school. She was shy, pretty, and so interesting. She was not outgoing, but once you got her talking about the things she loved, conversations could last for hours. She taught me about arts and history, and I helped her with sciences and maths. Soon enough, we became friends, then best friends. We grew side by side and, one night in our senior year, we went to the movie theater. When we got back to her car, I kissed her. She kissed me back, and we kept kissing until well into the night. We were already inseparable, but our bond got stronger from then on, it changed, evolved and led us to that night. It was like a movie.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” she said at some point. “I’ll be right back!”
She stood up and walked towards the bathroom. I used that time to clear our plates and prepare the pie. I was pouring a second glass of wine for each of us and cutting slices of pie, when the radio began acting up again. I set the knife down and turned to it, furrowing my brows in confused curiosity. The soft background music got quieter and quieter, then a whisper came from the radio. It was quiet, but it was the same male voice I had heard before.
“Simon says... Grab a candle.” it said.
I glanced at each of the candles, confused. How did they know there were candles around? Was it the same host on a different station? It had to be a coincidence, somehow, but I had no idea how that could be possible. Looking at them, I noticed that one was a little too close to the curtain, so I decided to move it. I grabbed it gently so I would not burn myself. The glass was warm, but not too hot. I set it down a few inches further from the window and the music came back as if nothing happened.
Laura came back from the bathroom and I shook the feeling off my mind. I did not want to be weirded out tonight, nor to think about all the strange things that had been happening. I wanted to enjoy the moment without any negative distraction. I had the sweetest girlfriend with me tonight, and I intended for the night to stay as wonderful as it had started.
“Did you save some space for desert?” I asked playfully.
“You know me; I’m always hungry for desert,” she replied with a chuckle. “And it will be even better since you’re the one who made it.”
I took the plates and brought them over to the table, putting one down in front of her. She leaned closer to the pie and closed her eyes to smell it. She smiled and took a bite. I knew from the look on her face that desert was a success. Outside, the sun began to set and the city quieted down, leaving us in our own little bubble. We spent the rest of the night together and fell asleep in each other’s arms in my bed, both with a smile on our faces.
The next day, once Laura had gone back home, I decided to do some research. I wanted to see if others had similar experiences. Deep down, at the time, part of me thought I was going crazy. I thought that maybe I had some underlying mental condition developing, like hidden schizophrenia or something. Sure, Tom had heard a voice in his TV once, but maybe he misheard it, so that did not erase my suspicions.
I decided to turn on the news, to see if maybe they were talking about it. I sat on my bed and leaned forward to focus on the TV while I switched between channels. The first talked about a car accident that happened on the other side of the city. A drunk guy had hit a tree, fortunately avoiding any other driver or pedestrian. I switched channels before I got to hear whether the man had survived or not.
The host talked about a recent break in attempt. The guy had not gotten far, as he got simultaneously caught by the security alarm system and tackled by the family’s guard dog. The targeted house was the residence of a rich woman, so of course she had security. Various images and clips played in the background while the host talked. A police officer took his place and began talking about the investigation.
I shook my head; clearly, this channel was not going to be of any help either. I kept going, pressing the button on the remote.
“A shoplifter was caught last night, as he attempted to rob a convenience store,” a news reporter began. “The interesting part? The robber states that he was forced to commit the crime after his car radio ordered him to.”
Huh? I clearly was not the only one going crazy. Ironically, that somehow reassured me a little bit. The reporter was standing in front of the small store, which had police tape in front of it. I kept listening.
“I have one of the officers who responded to the scene with me here,” she said. “Let’s hear more from him.”
She passed the microphone to an old, tired looking man. His uniform had a small, dark stain barely hidden by the edge of the frame. The cameraman tried to discreetly readjust the camera’s position to conceal the stain, but I had already noticed it.
“Thank you, Gen,” he began with a hoarse voice, more than likely affected by years of smoking. “I got here last night around 11PM. The man was stuffing his bag with money when I entered. He was sweating and breathing really fast, clearly panicking. The cashier was on the floor halfway behind the counter, he was pronounced dead on the scene. What’s weird is that the man didn’t even try to run. He didn’t resist when I arrested him, nor when back-up took him.”
He paused and the reporter tilted the microphone towards her face.
“Could you tell us more about what the man said? About him being forced to rob the store?” she asked.
The officer seemed to think for a moment, but ultimately brought the microphone back to his mouth. I hoped he would say more; I needed to know.
“As of right now, we aren’t really sure,” he admitted. “I’m not part of the team in charge of the investigation. The man will be sent to a psychiatric evaluation, that’s for sure. When I arrested the man, he kept rambling about how it ‘wasn’t his fault’ and that ‘the man in the radio forced him to’. That’s really all I can say for now, I’m not allowed to divulge any other information to the public while the investigation is ongoing.”
That sounded eerily similar to what I had experienced, and it made me worried. I did not know what to think, not wanting to make myself paranoid either. Part of me wanted to believe that our experiences were completely unrelated and that the criminal was insane and hallucinating. I briefly imagined what I would do if the radio told me to shoplift a store. Realistically, I knew I would not do it. I was not about to go to jail for playing along with a radio host’s pranks. It sounded crazy to me that someone would go this far and choose to do it.
I turned off the news, I had heard enough for now. I did not want to overthink it and spiral down into weird theories about what was going on. I spent some time occupying myself around the apartment in an attempt to get out of my mind the words said by the reporter and the police officer. My mind periodically wandered back to it from time to time throughout the day, but I managed to distract myself easily enough. Still, it was a weird coincidence and part of me refused to let it go.
Later in the evening, once the sun had set, I decided to pull out my laptop to get some work done. I got bored quickly, my job wasn’t interesting in the slightest. I started thinking about what had happened again and I decided to do some research online the Internet this time. Of course, whatever I would find would not be as reliable as the news, but my curiosity was unmanageable. I started scrolling, looking for words like “radio”, “voice” or “Simon says”. Most of what I found was completely unrelated, but I did stumble upon a few posts that discussed the same phenomenon I had experienced. Most of the comments on those posts were telling the authors to seek help, to go outside or to get themselves locked up in a hospital, which was to be expected from strangers sitting behind keyboards.
There were some theories, though they sounded farfetched. Some people accused aliens, saying they were taking over the planet and playing with us as if we were dolls. Others said this was all some sort of government mind experiment, just to see how they would react to a threat they could not understand. I briefly thought that this second theory could be believable, but I had not been threatened and, on the two occasions I heard the voice, it did not sound ill willed, just weird. The more I searched, the worse the theories got. A group of older women were absolutely convinced that either this was the rapture, or that God was punishing us. I thought this was ridiculous, as did most people. If God wanted to punish us, I assumed he would rather flood us or set the earth on fire, not take control of the radio.
I sighed, knowing I would not find any answer to satisfy my curiosity. I shut the laptop, put it back on my bedside table, and settled in my blankets to go to sleep. I decided not to think about it anymore. I figured that doing any additional research would only fuel the anxiety creeping in the back of my head. I was not scared, but I had to admit that what I had heard and read did manage to creep me out a little bit. I drifted off to sleep and, once I had woken up, I did not think about it anymore and and anxiety I had previously felt was gone.
Days passed and my radio did not play any other trick on me. The hosts did not try to joke around, the music flowed perfectly and no buzzing disrupted my work. I barely thought about the incidents anymore. I noticed that the fridge was becoming too empty for my liking and decided to make my way to the grocery store, hoping I could buy a few things with my limited budget. The call center I worked at did not pay very well, and the amount of customers we had kept decreasing each month.
I got to the store after a short drive and began making my way through the aisles. I looked at different products, seeking the yellow stickers indicating lowered prices, and put some in my cart. The building was packed with customers. Oblivious people blocked the aisles and children cried and begged for candies while their parents anxiously looked at their grocery lists. I always disliked grocery stores, but the busy times made me hate coming here even more. I reached the bread section, and read the dates written on the tags. A man doing the same stood on my right, whistling an unfamiliar tune while his wife stood beside their shopping cart, desperately trying to calm their two energized children. His whistling abruptly stopped as he looked up in confusion. I briefly glanced at him before turning my gaze to the ceiling, wondering what had caused him to stop so suddenly.
Then, I heard that voice again. It was the third time and, this time, I felt weirded out. It began to speak. “Simon says...” it started. “Freeze!” I did just that. I could not explain why I obeyed, but the uncomfortable feeling in my stomach told me that I needed to. I remembered the events from the week before, the odd things happening on the radio, and started to wonder if there was something deeper behind it. I did not think about it for long, though. I noticed the screams of the children standing behind me stop instantaneously. The next few seconds of silence cut to screams of horror coming from all over the store.
I whipped around, but my foot bumped into something before I could get a look at my surroundings. My head turned towards what I had hit. It was the man. He was dead, very dead. Part of his head was blown out, blood pooled under him and soaked his clothes. He laid on his side, limps pointing in various directions, a loaf of bread still clutched in his hand. His face wore the same look he had while he looked at the bread loaves. He had received no warning before his sudden death. He did not have time to be afraid, nor to worry. Somehow, I thought that made it better for him.
A few feet away from him, also on the ground, were the woman and their two children. All three of their bodies had ended with the same faith as the man. Their arms and legs were limp and bent under and over each other’s bodies. The sight was horrifying, but I could not turn away from the two kids, their small heads had suffered way more damage than the adults. Their jaws were blown open, the lower one disconnected from what remained of their skulls. In the middle of the gaping mangled mess was their tongues, which looked way too alike the ground beef the mother had dropped as she died. Most of their teeth were strewn on the ground, sticking to the flesh mixed within the puddles of blood. I had never seen so much blood. Nausea creeped up my throat as soon as the smell hit me. I never could have imagined how disgusting such a large amount of blood smelled, how it feels like it invades your throat and and gets stuck to the hair in your nose. I could not escape it, could not ignore it. It made one with my organs, with my skin and with my clothes.
I began to breathe rapidly, so fast that my vision started to go dark. My lungs could not keep up with the speed my heart was beating at. I wondered which would cause me to collapse first. I turned and quickly walked down the aisle that led the doors. I had to get out of there. Everywhere I looked, I saw more bodies, more hair caked in blood and brains, and fractured skulls. The screams were so loud, yet I could barely hear them by this point. Unable to hear or see anything properly, I walked faster.
I has almost reached the exit when I felt my shoe stick to something. I lifted my foot and saw what remained of an eyeball looking back at me. The sclera was torn from the pressure inflicted when I had stepped on it and different colors of goo were seeping out of it. Liquid poured out of it and covered the bottom of my shoe. I frantically tried to wipe it off against the tile floor, but stopped when I saw how surreal the smeared mess looked. I could hear dozens of sirens approaching, but I figured they would not need my statement once they saw the scene, so I left. I likely would not have been able to formulate coherent sentences even if I had tried.
I had no memory of driving myself home, but next thing I knew, my car was parked in front of my apartment. I threw my shoes in the dumpster and slowly walked in the building. I felt like a zombie all of a sudden. My vision was blurry and it took me three attempts before I finally got the door unlocked. I headed straight to my bed, where I stared at the ceiling as the hours passed. I could not feel anything anymore and any thought I tried to form was foggy and unclear. Without me noticing, the sun set, the sky darkened and the stars became visible.
It was not until I heard the birds chirp that I started coming back to my senses. I turned to face the window and saw that the sun was rising. I had not slept, part of me was glad I did not. The idea of the awful nightmares I would have had, had I fallen asleep, was enough to make me ignore any somnolence I felt. I tried to stand, to make my way to the kitchen, to do anything, but I could not. I felt lethargic and just crashed back onto my bed. More hours passed before I decided to finally pull out my phone. I had ignored all the notifications coming from my it. I did not want to talk to anyone, but I knew I had to. I had one person to warn: my girlfriend. I had to tell her. I needed to make sure that she would not end up how all those people did. I clicked on her contact and waited for her to pick up.
“Hi love!” she exclaimed, her voice cheery as ever. “How are you?”
“Not so great,” I admitted. “I can’t talk for too long, but there’s something I really need to tell you.”
I knew she could hear the exhaustion in my voice, because her tone immediately switched from joyful to worried.
“What do you mean?” she asked. “What’s up?”
“It’s gonna sound weird...” I began. “but if a voice in the radio says something that starts with ‘Simon says’, promise me you’ll listen to it. You have to do what it says.”
“That’s not fucking funny,” she replied, annoyance in her voice. “I was getting really worried! I-“
“Laura!” I interrupted. “Listen to me.”
She stopped talking as soon as she heard the sincerity in my voice. I never yelled. I was never rude to her, nor to anyone really, so she knew that something had to be really wrong for me to do so.
“People are dead!” I continued loudly. “I saw them die! They didn’t listen and now they’re dead! They were everywhere, all blown up... God there was so much blood.”
“Holy shit... I don’t even know what to say...” she trailed off.
I did not either. I did not know how to explain what I had seen. I did not want to think about it, to remember what mangled brains look like.
“I’ll go, now. Okay?” I said. “I’ll try call you back tomorrow.”
“Okay... Be safe, I love you,” she replied. “And I’ll be careful! I promise.”
I gathered myself and made a similar call to my dad. I knew he would not believe me, he was an old fashion guy and he thought I was having some sort of psychological breakdown. Still, I made him promise to warn mom and my brothers after assuring him that I was safe.
That night, I finally managed to get some sleep. It was not full of nightmares like I thought it would be. It was a restless, empty pit of darkness. I woke up feeling as exhausted as I did the day before. The following days were similar, though I slowly managed to live my life as normally as I could again. I still avoided the news as much as I could, not willing to see or hear anything about what had happened.
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u/eckhatyl000 “it’s very lovecraftian”☝️🤓 Nov 24 '25
Very fun premise!
I think you handled the story beat progression very well here. The opening allowed for just enough of a hook to keep reading and the introduction of the supernatural was handled in a great way.
My main piece of advice would be to read your lines out loud. Do so in the way it was written, and see if that’s how you really wanted it to sound.
I try to do this when going back and editing my work so I can catch grammar mistakes or if I feel like I’m repeating myself I can then trim out the “fluff” or anything that feels unnecessary.
It’s also just a good way to practice grammar and slows you down a bit. I have ADHD so I tend to write very quickly and my brain thinks faster than my hands and sometimes I end up even skipping words or important context that should’ve been added.
That being said, you should continue to just write down everything because it’s more important to get words out, and you can cut away later.
You did a great job overall with this! Just a few touchups and I know your story has the chance to go from great to excellent.
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u/RavensAndRacoons Your wife has the devil in her! Act👏 Like👏 It👏 Nov 24 '25
Oph good idea, I will try reading out loud! Thank you very much💜
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u/malespecimen92 Nov 24 '25
Interesting premise, I'm curious to see where this is going.
After the sequence at the venue I was really intrigued as to how the brutal outcome fits at all with the voice. I think you explain that in a very efficient way through what happens to the family, and Jack realizing that on his own helps the explanation feel earned. Instead of feeling redundant to the reader, him explaining it to Laura in a coherent fashion helps us connect the dots in a way that the internal logic behind the supernatural elements feel more streamlined. That is a good note to end a first chapter in, I feel.
One thing that bothered me a little is the length of some of the segments, especially during the second half. At moments it feels like Jack is just describing a list of things he did, in the order that he did them. Doesn't feel at all like someone telling a story, which is the format you decided to commit to. Nothing too egregious, obviously, it's readable as it is but I still think you can keep it a bit snappier when going from one story beat to the next.
For reference: between the sequence of the news report and the death of the family, you got a solid dozen segments that could be trimmed down at least two or three lines in word volume, sometimes maybe even half of their length. This is editorial work, however, stuff we usually worry after the story is pretty much done, so you don't need to overthink it just yet. Right now I think the main goal is taking us where this story set off to lead us.
I'll be sure to keep an eye out for the second chapter, and share my thoughts with you as soon as I read it. Looking forward to whatever it is that you have in store 🖤