“Don’t Worry, I Know I Look Scary…But I’ll Only Kill You If You Scream”
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Hey, hey, shh, be quiet little guy. You don't have to cry. I know I look scary. It's my scars, isn't it? On my face, and my neck and my arms. Or maybe it's my milky eye. I'm sorry about all that. I don't want to look scary, you know? And even I forget sometimes that I look like, well, like this.

And then I'll see myself in somebody's mirror. I'll see myself and it'll make me jump and I'll go "Aaah!" Like that. Even though it's just me in the mirror. That's kinda silly. But I guess even monsters get scared. But it's not my fault that I look like a monster. You would too if everything that happened to me happened to you. Like the scars. All these scars here and here. Know how I got them?

I fell through a window. Yup. Just smashed right through the glass. It really hurt. And it sliced up my whole face. It made a big puddle of blood on the dirt. With pieces of glass in it and leaves and twigs. And I got dirt in the cuts on my face too. And you can't say that was my fault. I was little. About your age, I think. And besides, I was bushed. Yeah, really.

You see, a big man with big hands and really bad breath. He pushed me through that window. He had just strangled mama, and I saw him do it. And then he came for me, and he chased me through the house. I ran and ran and I cried, like you're crying now. I was so scared. I even peed in my pajama pants. Oh, that's pretty gross, isn't it? I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have said that.

Sorry, little guy. I'm not very good at this. This talking. Because I don't talk to many people. I'm all alone most of the time. I only see people like, like this, when I smash in their doors and come into their houses. And then nobody wants to be friends with me.

Maybe it's because of my scars, or because I smashed their door, or because they've heard the stories about... about the monster man in the woods. The one who only comes out at night and goes into people's houses. That's... me. I guess you probably figured that out. You're not a dummy, are you? No. Oh, am I... hurting you, little boy?

I'm sorry if I am, but I have to hold you down like this, or else you might run away. You might try to run to a window to get out, like I did when that big man was chasing me after he strangled Mama. He looked very scary that night when he chased me. His eyes were all big and he was breathing really hard, like a dog breathes. I guess… I guess that's how I look to you tonight, isn't it?

Because I smashed down your door and chased you in here and threw you onto the bed. And because of my scars and my milky eye and all this blood on my hands and my shirt. It's not my blood, you know. It came from that old man downstairs. I was trying to fix him. Like to help his heart. Because his heart stopped beating when I twisted his head backward. But I had to do that because he was screaming at me to get out. And he said that he had a gun.

I don't like guns. They're too loud. They hurt my ears when they shoot. So I had to twist the old man's head. But then his heart stopped beating. I thought maybe I could fix it. I tried to push on his chest. But that didn't work. So I cut open his chest and squeezed his heart in my hand. Like this. Ka-thump, ka-thump, ka-thump. You know? That didn't work either. So I just put him on the sofa.

He's there now. He's all quiet. He's not scared anymore. Did you see all that? From where you were standing on the stairs? Did you see me twist his head or cut his chest? Because that must have been really scary for you. Sorry, buddy. Can I... Can I call you buddy? I know we're not really friends. I've never had a friend. Well, maybe Mama was my friend. But I don't know if Mamas count.

That was when I was little, like you are. How little are you? Are you maybe… seven? That's how old I was, when the big man pushed me through the window. I remember, because I had a birthday, and there were seven candles on the cake. Mama told me to make a wish and blow them out. I didn't know what to wish for, so I just blew out the candles. Now I know I should have wished for Papa to die, so he couldn't strangle Mama that night.

Wait, did I tell you about that? I didn't finish that story, did I? Stupid, stupid, stupid! Sorry. Sometimes I forget things. Like now. I forgot to finish the story about the glass and my scars and the big man. See, that big man was actually my papa. He was a very angry man. That's why he strangled mama. Because he was angry with her.

He strangled her in the kitchen, on the floor, with his hands, and I saw him do it. He wanted to strangle me too, I could tell. I didn't want him to. Mama looked blue on the floor, and I don't like blue. I like red. Do you like red? Oh, sorry. I'll finish the story, I promise.

So, I ran around inside the house. But the front door was locked, so it didn't open. I wasn't big then. I couldn't smash it down. But I ran to the window and started hitting it. But then his big hands grabbed my neck and he picked me up. And he pushed my face against the window. And the window broke and I fell out.

It wasn't like a tall house, so I just fell into some bushes under the window. But the glass cut my face and my hands really bad. It hurt a lot. And when I looked up, I saw Papa in the window, and he was looking down at me. He was so angry, and he was breathing funny, like this. And I couldn't move, and I peed in my pajamas. But then the police came.

You know about the police, right? Of course you do. You're a smart boy. I can tell. You know that you can call the police if there's an emergency, and then they'll come to help. 911. That's their number. I didn't call the police, though. I don't think Mama did either, because she was strangled on the floor already. But the police came, so... So maybe Mrs. Nora called them. Mrs. Nora was our neighbor.

She was really old and she used a cane. She used to sit on the porch. And one time she gave me a dollar. Really! Hey, hey, did you do that? When you heard me smashing in your door? You know, did you call 911? You can tell me if you did. I won't get angry. I won't even scream at you. I almost never scream anymore.

i used to scream a lot though i used to scream all the time like in the foster home that's where i went after papa strangled mama and pushed me through the window i went to the courthouse and they gave me to my foster mother and foster father my foster mother was named elizabeth she had curly hair and big brown eyes and a birthmark on her cheek do you know what a birthmark is

Babies have them. They're like big shapes of color on your skin. I thought Elizabeth was nice. And I thought my foster father wasn't nice. Because he drank at night. Like Papa did. And he told me I was a big sissy. His name was Hurley. I didn't like Hurley. I liked Elizabeth. She made cookies sometimes. Mama made better cookies. But Elizabeth's cookies were good too.

So, yeah, I stayed at the foster home for a long time. But then one night, Elizabeth got really angry with me because I was screaming in my bed. I was screaming and screaming and screaming. I couldn't stop. And Elizabeth came into the room and told me to be quiet. She had curlers in her hair.

But I didn't stop screaming, and she got really angry. And she picked up a lamp next to the table and she hit me with it! The lamp hit me in the eye! This eye! That's why it's all milky. It's not blind though. I can still see with this eye. But everything I see with it is milky, like it's foggy.

Like when I look at you now. I can see your face. I can see the tears on your face and the way your lips are trembling. But part of it looks kinda blurry. Like there's fog in the room with us. Like you're half ghost or something. But I'm used to it now. And, hey, there was fog that night too. The night when I was pushed through the window, I mean.

I saw the police car's light coming in the fog. Then I saw a policeman get out of the car and scream at Papa through the window. And Papa screamed back at him and tried to climb out through the window. So the policeman pulled out his gun and shot Papa. Bang, bang, bang, bang! Like that. Four shots.

But two of the shots hit the side of the house. One of the shots hit Papa in the neck, and he started choking on blood and he fell out of the window into the bushes with me. Oh, and one of the shots bounced off a rock and hit me in the belly. It hurt. I can show you where it hit me. See? Here, under my shirt. Can you see the scar? Or is it too dark in here? I don't want to turn on the light.

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Oh, now you look more scared. You probably think my chest is scary too, because of the little scar in my tattoos. I know they aren't very good tattoos. I got them in the prison. I went to the prison because the judge said I was dangerous. Because of when I strangled Elizabeth. Did I tell you that part?

That I strangled my foster mother? I don't think I did. I don't like to think about that, but yeah. I was angry after Elizabeth hit me with the lamp, so I grabbed her neck. I was bigger then, not like now. Now I'm so big, I forget how big I am now. But when I look at a little boy like you, I can see how big I am. Your head is like...

Like a little nut. I could crack it open with my hands. But don't worry, I don't want to do that. Unless you start screaming or you run away. Then I'll have to stop you, okay? Hey, can you read? I can't read. A man in the prison whose name was Shorty, he gave me these tattoos. I think this one says, "Sorry, Mama."

I wanted that, because when I saw Papa hitting her and then strangling her, I just stood there and I didn't stop him. And I think this tattoo here says, "God is watching," because God is always watching us. That's what Shorty said. Can you read them? Do you think God is always watching? Do you say your prayers before bed? Mama wanted me to do that, but sometimes I didn't. Sometimes I forgot, and sometimes I didn't want to.

Did you say a prayer when you saw me twisting the old man's head backwards? Some people say a prayer and some people call the police when I come into their house. Hey, who is he? The old man. Is he your grandpa? Do you call him grandpa or papa or grandfather or something else? There are lots of names for grandpas. But I never call my grandpa anything because I don't know my grandpa, but I know my mama's mama.

Well, I only saw her one time. In the courthouse, before I went to the foster home with Elizabeth and Hurley. My mama's mama came to the courthouse, and the judge said I should go home with her. But she said no, because she couldn't look at me. Because I looked like Papa. And she hated Papa because he hurt Mama and he strangled her. I don't know where she is now. Maybe she's in a cemetery, because she was old. Uh-oh.

It smells like pee. Did you pee in your pants, buddy? It's okay if you did. Everybody has accidents sometimes, especially when they're scared. You're probably scared right now, aren't you? Because I'm holding you, and I won't let you go. But I can't let you go, because I like talking to you. And if I let you go, I'm scared you'll run away.

I ran away, you know, from Elizabeth and Hurley's house after she hit me with the lamp and gave me my milky eye and I strangled her. I was scared. I didn't know my hands could do that. And when I looked at them after I did it, they looked so big, like Papa's hands. So I was scared and I ran into the woods. I got lost and I was in there for a long time.

I had to hide because people were looking for me. Policemen and other people. They brought flashlights and they called out my name. I do have a name, you know. Only I can't remember it. Mama always called me Sweetie Pie. And Hurley called me Big Sissy. And in the prison they called me Giant because I'm so big. I am big, but I'm good at hiding.

And I was hiding in the woods a lot of days before they found me. But they cheated. They brought dogs. Dogs have genius noses. And they smelled me and found me.

I didn't want to hurt the dogs, but one of them bit my foot, so I had to break its neck. Want to see the scar where the dog bit my foot? It's right here. It's hard to see because it's dark in here, and because my feet are so dirty, because I don't wear socks and shoes and I live in the woods. I kinda like living in the woods sometimes, because it's mostly just trees and some animals, but it gets lonely.

And sometimes it gets scary too. Like when hunters come and I hear their guns. I don't like guns. There weren't guns in the prison when I lived there. After the police found me in the woods. Then I was in the prison for a long time. I guess I wasn't lonely in there, but I didn't like it. It was loud and the bed was too small and everything smelled like pee. And the food wasn't good. There's no cookies in the prison.

That's why I ran away. I strangled the guards by the gate, and then I smashed the gate and ran away. I had to run for a really long time back into the woods, way, way deeper than before. And there were policemen and dogs and helicopters and everything. But I ran and I ran and they didn't find me. And now, guess what? I live in a cave.

Have you ever been in a cave? It's neat. It's dark and cozy and very quiet. There's not much food though. At first, I ate a lot of bugs, sometimes bats or birds or mushrooms, but they made me sick. But then at night, I started to walk and I saw the lights in a window and there was all this food on a table inside. So I went in and ate the food. It was very good.

And there were cookies. No chocolate chip, but still. But then the police came. Because when I strangled the people in the house, I forgot one of them and she went into a closet and called 911. So I took the cookies and ran. But no one found me in my cave after that. So I was okay.

And then I got really good at it. Smashing in doors, taking food. Sometimes people think I'm a bear until they see me. And then they're really surprised. Hey, do you have good food in your kitchen? I haven't looked yet. Do you have milk in your refrigerator and cookies? I love to drink milk and eat cookies. That's why they call me the cookie monster, I think. I know that's what they call me.

A woman screamed it at me one night when I came into her house. She said, "Oh my god, it's the Cookie Monster! Oh god!" I don't like being called that. I know who Cookie Monster is. I remember. He's blue. I don't like blue. I like red. Have you heard about me, buddy?

Do your friends tell stories about the Cookie Monster in the woods? Not the puppet, of course. I'm not a puppet. Or, no, I'm a man. I think I must be a man now because I'm so big and my voice is like a man. But I'm still me, like when I was little. It's kinda weird to think about. But I'm not a monster. Not really.

I just get hungry out there and the food is in here. So I come in and when people try to stop me, I have to stop them first. I get scared though, just like the people. We're both scared. They get scared when they see how I look. I get scared when they scream at me or try to run away. I think maybe they'll get a gun and shoot me or call the police and then the police will come and shoot me.

Did you call 911? I hope you didn't. If the police come now, I'll throw you out the window. I promise! That way, the police will go to you and try to help you, because you'll be hurt from the glass and maybe broken from the fall.

Your house is taller than my house. And while they get to you, I'll run away out the back door and into the woods. Back to my cave. Hey, if that happens, maybe the glass will slice up your face, and then you'll have scars on your face like my scars. That's funny. You would look like me. Only, your eye isn't milky and you're still little. Do you think that's funny? No?

Why not? Because it would hurt? Or... No. You don't want to look like me. You don't want to look like a monster. But... Now it might happen. They might take you to the courthouse and then to a foster home because of what I did downstairs. And then maybe it'll be scary for you. Maybe your new foster mother and foster father will be mean. And... If that happens...

Would you like to come back home? With me? My cave is pretty big. It's bigger than this room, but not as big as your whole house. But I have a comfy bed in my cave. It's made of blankets and pillows and hair. There are mice in the bed too. They tickle, but sometimes they bite. But then I bite back, and they squeak and go quiet. They don't taste very good though. Not like milk and cookies.

They taste like mice. So, buddy, do you want to come home with me? We could be friends there. I'll share all the cookies I find. Really, I promise. And if you get scared in the cave, I can hold you and sing to you. Mama used to sing to me. She used to sing like this.

Are you sleeping? Are you sleeping? Sweetie Pie! Sweetie Pie! What's wrong? You don't like it? Well, I don't know any other songs. Maybe you can teach me one. Do you have a mama? Does she sing you songs? Or what about her? That little girl in the other bed over there? Is she your sister? I don't have a sister.

Mama had a baby in her belly when Papa strangled her that night when he pushed me through the window. But I don't know if it was a girl baby or a boy baby. Do you like your sister? Is she your friend? Do you play with her or no because she's a girl? Hey, are you mad at me because I hurt your sister?

I had to do that, because she was screaming. Remember? She was screaming when I ran up the stairs and chased you in here. Now she's not screaming, see? Now she's quiet, and her eyes are open. That's funny. And her mouth is open too. Hmm. Should we close her mouth? And should we bend her back straight again? No. No. Think we'll leave her there on the bed. We'll let her sleep.

Yeah, I hope she has a good dream. I have a good dream sometimes. When I'm sleeping in my bed in my cave, I dream that I can fly, but not like a bird. I don't have to flap my arms to fly. I just look up at the sky, at all the stars, and then I lift up into the air and I can fly.

I fly out of the woods, above the houses, and then the houses look small like toys with little lights in their little windows, and the cars on the streets look like toy cars, and the people are tiny like little ants, and I'm far away, and I'm not hungry, and no one is angry with me. Do you have a good dream like that? Do you dream you can fly? Or do you have a bad dream?

I have a bad dream too. Actually, I have a bad dream a lot. Most nights. Sometimes, in my bad dream, I'm small again. Like you. I'm small again and I'm in my house and I'm running. And Papa is chasing me. And he's so big, like a real monster. And so fast and his hands are holding Mama by the neck. And he's dragging her as he chases me in the house.

And mama is loose like a doll and all floppy. And her feet bang on the floor and her shoes fall off. And that makes me very angry. Because mama was nice and she loved me. And so I get very angry in the dream. Because... Because it's not fair!

Papa shouldn't do that. No! It's not nice to Mama. And it's not nice to me because... Because I'm just little and scared and now he's going to throw me out the window and I'll have so many scars that I look like a monster and I'll have to hurt people to get food and I'll have to be lonely in the woods. No. No, no, no. It's not fair. Papa should have stopped. He should have known better. He should have...

Oh dear! Oh no! I crushed your arm! I'm sorry, buddy! Oh no! Don't start screaming or I'll have to cover your mouth and squeeze your neck until you're quiet! That's better! Yeah! And look! We can bend your arm back! Like this! No! No! Too loud! Too loud! Stop it! I don't like it! You have to stop, buddy!

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Just be quiet now. Shut up, shut up, and go to sleep. Go to sleep. Now look what you made me do, little guy. Look what you made me do. Now you're all limp and you're blue. You hate blue. I don't even want to talk to you anymore. And now I'm all lonely again. It's just so lonely being me. And I thought...

I thought maybe we could be friends. I can't make friends in the woods. And maybe I can't make friends ever because of how I look. Because of my scars and my eye and the dirt and the old blood on these old clothes I wear. They're all torn up. They're itchy. Sometimes I want to take new clothes from the houses.

But mostly I just take food, because I'm so hungry. And I get scared that the police will come and… Yeah, I do get scared. Really scared. Every night. Even though I'm the one that's supposed to do the scaring, right? I'm the giant. The monster. But monsters get scared too. And lonely. Maybe… Maybe in the daytime it's better.

Maybe in the sunlight, things are less scary and it's easier to make friends, but I don't think I belong in the daylight. Things like me, we belong in the shadows, where we can hide our scars and milky eyes. It's just too bad I can't, you know, hide from myself. Or hide from God, I guess. If Shorty was right. But, hmm, if God is real,

Then, he's like me, right? He must be. Because he's always hiding too. Huh. Always hiding. Always watching. I wonder why he does that. I wonder if he's scared too. Or if he's lonely. I wonder if he would be friends with me. Or would you? Yes. I'm talking to you now, listener. You.

who lie in your bed at night, all warm and snug with a phone in your hand and airpods in your ears, so safe and secure and yet crave dread and terror.

You, who seek out scary stories, dark stories, wicked stories, just so that your heart will start drumming in your chest and so the hairs on the back of your neck might stand on end. You, who must imagine monsters in the night just to feel alive because life isn't enough somehow. Funny. Hey.

Maybe you'll meet me one of these nights, when I smash down your door and come into your house. Yeah, maybe you'll come out of your room for a glass of water and you'll see me standing there. I'm hard to miss, even in the dark. I'm big, you see, like a big boulder, with a big ugly head and big hands and my one milky eye.

Maybe you'll see me standing there, holding your loved one by the neck while I chew mouthfuls of cookies and drink your milk straight from the carton. Would you scream? Would you run away? Would you say a prayer or call the police? Would you pee yourself? Or...

Would you sit with me, maybe on the sofa or the edge of the bed, and let me talk to you and tell you my story, and show you my scars and my tattoos, and explain that the only difference between us is into which family home that heartless stork brought our tiny infant bodies. It's all just random, tragic twists of fate.

And all it would take to change you into me is one really bad night and one tumble through glass into fog. Maybe that sounds silly to you. Maybe you think you're different. That you could never be a monster, could never do these things. Of course not! Because you're, you know, you. And maybe you'd be right. But know this.

I could only ever be me too. And look how I turned out. Anyway, it's getting late. The sun will come up soon. I've got to get back to my bed in my cave in the woods, back into the shadows. So, sleep.

For now, you strange voyeur of all that is vicious and violent, sleep and dream of cookies and milky eyes and broken bones and shattered glass. In fact, maybe that's where we'll meet. Yeah, maybe I'll meet you in that good dream, and we can fly side by side. Just two dark souls in the dead of night, weightless, floating,

Scared and lonely, together. I'd like that.

After Dark is a brand new horror podcast that delivers terrifying tales in a soothing female voice. Each episode dives into eerie mysteries and scary encounters, perfect for those who crave late-night frights. For fans of real horror, After Dark won't disappoint. Tune in to After Dark today by searching After Dark in the search bar wherever you get your podcasts. After Dark is a brand new horror podcast that delivers terrifying tales in a soothing female voice.