Lily Madwhip and the Other Knife That Pierces the Veil by William Dalphin (26/26) (Guest Storytime)

No, I got this in a knife fight.

🎙️Guest: Giggles (www.youtube.com/user/MoralsAndVirtues/)
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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:02):
Lily Madwip present, all the other kids in class start whispering,
telling each other the same stories about me they tell
each time my name gets called, as if everyone in
the school doesn't already know them by heart. Lily Madwip,
the one girl demolition crew, the girl who single handedly
blew up her parents, then drove her foster family so

(00:24):
insane they died in a murder suicide, seemingly unkillable. If
she looks your way, you have to cross yourself or
you'll die within a week, unless you're Hindu were Jewish.
I kind of like that one. Sometimes I stare at
the other kids in my class, just to watch their
reaction when they realize it. Don't ask me how they

(00:45):
came up with suicide for missus Lake's cause of death.
I mean, the lady was missing several bits and had
burned to death in a very localized fire that failed
to touch most of the things around it. Besides, despite
her eggy waffles, and she loved her husband very very much.
From what I could tell, she definitely didn't deserve to
be remembered as a murderer. I think anyone who really

(01:07):
knew her knows it's not true. Last week, I sat
down in a fairly bare looking room at the police
station with Detective Guthrie, right after he'd finally got done
listening to a doctor. Explained to him that the dog
he killed had bones more like those of a human
than a canine. He wanted me to go over the
details of that day, the day Passion, Nathaniel and I

(01:27):
sent Furfur back to Hell. I told him again how
Missus Lake was possessed by a demon and an angel
had burned her to drive the demon out. Of course,
I continue to leave out the part about using my
powers to slice her bits off. Pastor said it would
be best to not include that. I agreed. Guthrie listened
to me tell him everything, and then started writing on

(01:48):
his little pad of paper he always keeps on him,
mouthing the words spontaneous human combustion. I asked him with
that mean. He said, it's where a person suddenly catches
on fire for no apparent reason. I told him that
when the Angel of Fire snaps his fingers, it's a
pretty good reason to catch on fire. So to repeat

(02:10):
what you just said, the archangel and Nathaniel descended from
heaven into the Lake's bedroom, snapped his fingers and burned
missus Lake alive, he asked me, and then tip of
the hat flew back up to heaven. He put his
hands together like a pair of wings and flapped them
up toward the ceiling to represent this. No, Like I

(02:31):
told you, he came in the front door, snapped his fingers,
burned her alive, then went into the closet. Right into
the closet, he said, in that condescending tone adults use,
you know, the one where you're caught with your hand
in the bowl of cookie dough that your mom was
chilling in the refrigerator, and you tell them you thought
you saw the chocolate chips trying to escape and was
in the process of putting them back. Well, it wasn't

(02:56):
a closet at the time. It was a portal to
the other side, of course, it was at that point
he sighed and turned, looking at the mirror in the
room for a bit, and then shrugged and shook his head.
I banged my fist on the table, which hurt because
it was made of metal, and yelled at him. In
his reflection, why do you act like you don't believe me? Huh, oh,
Lily's just making up stories again. But then you stopped

(03:18):
me on the sidewalk and ask me questions like I'm
some sort of magic eight ball you can just shake
and get the answers you want out of me. Hey, Lily,
is my son going to join the baseball team? I
shook an imaginary magic eight ball in my hands and
pretended to look at it. Reply, Hey, is he Guthrie?
Try again? Shake? Shake out? Look not so good or better? Yeah?
How about No, he's not because he hates sports and

(03:40):
he wishes you'd stop forcing them down his throat, but
he's too scared of disappointing you to say it. We
sat there in silence for a bit while Guthrie's face
slowly descended from a smirk into a scowl. He's made
angryish looking faces at me before, but this one was
like someone was trying to hold back a really strong fart. Finally,

(04:01):
he snapped, Lily, we've got an officer in the hospital
who may never see again the mutilated bodies of your
foster parents cooling in the morgue. My friend's body is
down there with them, who I saw walking around and
had a full conversation before he just dropped dead out
of the blue. His autopsy later showed that he'd been
dead for the better part of an hour at the time.

(04:21):
Not to mention that bizarre mutation of a dog being dissected,
and your explanation for everything involves mysticism, devil worship, angelic
interference and magic. That's fine for a child, but we
need hard evidence of what really transpired so these people's
loved ones can have some closure. With that off his chest,

(04:42):
he pulled something out of his little notepad and then
slammed it shut. The notepad was very small, though, so
it came off less dramatic than I think he wanted
it to. One day, you're going to wake up and
wish you had been honest so that these dead people
could rest in peace. He slid the thing across the table.

(05:03):
It was my Foyle charzyard, sealed in a little plastic case.
Bart donated the protector from his baseball card collection, and
then he left the room without a friendly wave goodbye.
We haven't spoken since that day. I probably heard his

(05:27):
feelings with the thing about his son. I don't care.
Despite everything I've shown him. He picks and shooses what
he wants to believe in what not to believe. I
probably did his son Bart a favor by telling Guthrie
he didn't like sports. Hey, I look up from doodling
in my notebook. We're in the middle of a social
studies class and the teachers talking about Eli Whitney and

(05:49):
the Cotton Gin. I already know all about it, so
instead I'm drawing a picture of my blue cat, dolf
Freddy Lapel, the one I last saw Meredith in. I
need to make some flyers and put them up after
school in the hope that someone is seen her. The
boy in front of me has turned around in his
seat and is looking at me. He doesn't cross himself
when I meet his gaze. Maybe he's been dared to

(06:12):
see how long he can last staring into my soulless eyes.
He's got shaggy blonde hair and freckles all over his
nose and cheeks, and uh oh, here comes the info dump.
His name is Ryan Blanchard. I already knew that, thanks brain. Also,
he's got a little brother named Robbie and a much
older sister named Rebecca. Apparently his parents have a thing

(06:34):
for names that start with R. They also like to
drop their three are children off at a summer camp
every July and spend a week at a nudist colony.
What I really didn't need to know about that? Come on, brain,
give me a break. Don't tell Ryan this. Of course,
poor kid doesn't need to know his parents let their
dangly bits dangle while he's off weaving baskets and getting
boison ivy, did you really fight off a serial killer?

(06:59):
He whispers to me. I glanced to my right. The
girl sitting there is bugging her eyes out at him.
She sees me look and quickly crosses herself and looks
back down at her history book. I don't tell her
that she crossed herself the wrong way. You're supposed to
go head, heart, shoulder, shoulder. She crossed her self shoulders first,
then heart, then head. That doesn't mean anything. You're just

(07:20):
waving your hand around. No, I whispered Oryan, looking back
down at my drawing of the doll containing my best
friend Meredith's ghost. I wish I'd brought a darker shade
of blue marker with me to school. This one is
robin egg blue, and it's way too light. Freddy lapel
is royal blue. I just sat there and let him
stab me. Oh. He turns away. Then he turns back

(07:46):
and looks at my face again. This guy really isn't
afraid to get cursed, I guess, or maybe he doesn't
believe in curses. I stare at him with my soul
sucking eyes. This is that how you got that scar?
He asks, you know, like you do? I instinctively reach
up and touch the scar on my cheek. I don't

(08:07):
remember I have it half the time, but when I do,
it starts to itch. No, I got this in a
knife fight. Whoa. He turns back around in his seat,
but I can still hear him whisper cool. Someone nearby
gives a snort like they're trying to hide a laugh.
I'm not sure if they're actually trying to hide it
or they're trying to make it obvious that they're laughing,
but in a way that they have plausible deniable later.

(08:30):
Plausible deniability means being able to say you didn't do
the things you did because you do them in a
way that nobody can prove it, Like when Roger would
take my hand in the back seat of the car
on road trips and make me hit myself with this
so he could deny hitting me because she was doing
it to herself. Just ask her. Well, yeah, getting in
a knife fight real cool. I'll be sure to thank

(08:52):
Lisa Welch for making me cool if I ever see
her again. I hope I never see her again. I
hope she slips on a banana peel and falls down
the stairs, breaking in every bone as she goes. I
hope her bones heal funny and she looks all crooked
and bent. Because daddy's a dentist, is not a bone doctor,
that he'll wish he'd gone to bone school. Then I

(09:12):
finished drawing Meredith Stall prison badly. I should add and
write have you seen this toy? Call and ask for Lilian,
along with the phone number for the Foster Care Center.
One poster down, ninety nine more to go. There's a
photocopy machine at the Winslow Library that costs ten cents
a copy. I've got ten dollars in my shoe that

(09:32):
my care worker, Miss Darcy, gave me for lunch for
the week. Ten dollars can make a hundred copies. Cafeteria
food tastes like garbage anyway, Maybe it is garbage. I
don't know. I'll be honest, I don't really eat the
cafeteria food because everyone else does. It tastes like garbage,
and I don't want to taste garbage. For all I know,
it could be really freaking delicious, and they just say
it tastes like garbage, so there's more for them Anyway,

(09:55):
I got ten dollars in my shoe. Freckle faced Ryan
Blanchard turns around again his seat. I see the teacher,
mister Cromby give him a glare. Mister Cromby is well
aware of how much every student in his class is
paying attention, except for me, that is. He thinks I'm
taking notes when I'm really just making posters to find
my lost cat doll with the ghost trapped in it.
Ryan has approximately ten seconds to ask whatever the hell

(10:17):
it is he's going to ask me this time, and
then mister Cromby is going to check a piece of
chalk at him and tell him to turn around. Mister
Cromby has really good aim too. He was the pitcher
for his high school baseball team back in the sixties,
but he got his sweetheart pregnant. Oh stop it, brain, Hey,
that's a great drawing, Ryan says about my shitty drawing.

(10:37):
Can I get a copy. I'll put it up in
my neighborhood for you. Really, I ask, cross my heart
and hope to die. He crosses his heart. I don't
think he hopes to die, though, sure. I tear the
paper out of my notebook and hand it to him.
I'll draw a better one for the copy machine. Thanks.

(10:58):
He turns back around just as mister Crombie's clenching his
talk piece in a planned attack. Instead of throwing it,
he points it at Ryan and gives him a look
that says, do that one more time and they'll be
pulling this truk out of your skull down at the Morgue.
From what Guthrie told me, he'll have good company. At least.
I spend lunch recreating the missing Doll poster. I still
don't have a good blue marker, so Freddy Lapel continues

(11:20):
to be poorly represented, but the gist of what he
looks like is clear enough. I think should I add
a reward, people might be more inclined to return a
missing cat doll if there's the promise of a reward.
The only thing is I don't have any money, except
when Miss Darcy gives me. I know I have some
sort of inheritance, but I don't have access to it
until I reach a certain age. When I stop by

(11:42):
my locker later the drawing, I let Ryan take his
tape to it. Someone has written call Lily Madwick for
hot sex and witch curses in sloppy red handwriting, placing
the part of the poster about the missing doll. Ugh.
They drew over my crappy drawing freddy lapel with a
permanent marker to make it look like your classic representation

(12:03):
of a witch in black with a point he had
in broom. Also, it smells faintly like someone use the
drawing to wipe their butt. I can't imagine that they
would actually do that, since the paper would not be
the least bit comfortable, but there's definitely a toilet smell.
A bunch of kids snicker and laugh when they see
ME find the paper. Ryan is there. He gets a

(12:24):
high five from another kid named Preston, whose family owns
a car dealership. There's a couple kids who don't look
happy about this prank, but I know they'll never say anything.
None of them want to become the next target for
kids like Ryan and Preston. And if you are afraid
of me is evident by the way they turn around
and cross themselves when they see me looking at them.
I don't react. I just tear the drawing down and

(12:47):
wad it up to throw away. People like Ryan want
you to react. They want to see you get mad
or cry. The best way to get them to stop
is to not give them what they want. Of course,
as soon as everyone turns away to go back to
pretending I don't exist, I take my right pinky, and
with careful precision, I cut the veil right where the

(13:07):
butt of Ryan's pants are. I've been practicing the ability
whenever I'm not at the center where I'm staying, so
Pastor doesn't find out it took days to figure out
how to control exactly where the cut was happening. If
I'd done this on my first day, I might have
very well dissected Ryan's intestines or something. But instead I
just split the seam in his pants. He reaches back

(13:31):
immediately feeling his pants split. I might have nicked his
butt cheek too, but oh well, Nobody notices his face
turned bright red when he realizes his pants are split
up the butt crack. He looks around horrified, afraid someone
will notice and laugh at him. He sees me looking back.
I raise an eyebrow at him, then turn shut my
locker and walk away. He's not going to know what

(13:54):
to think. Did I make it happen? How could I have?
I was across the hall, nowhere near him. Did I
curse him? Yes, that's the conclusion he'll probably reach, but
he won't call me out on it because that'll just
draw attention to his plight, And right now he's got
three more classes to get through while trying to make
sure nobody realizes what's happened. Sucks to be you, Ryan.

(14:16):
I won't give you what you want from me, but
I hope your butt enjoys a breath of fresh air
for the next couple hours. Jerk. After school, I returned
to the center and pick up Passion. We go to
the library together. I have to sign out where I'm
going so they know where I am. It's a dumb
role because I could write that I'm in the library,

(14:38):
but really be in some alley doing drugs or robbing
a bank. Not in the alley, I'd have to go
to a bank to do that. Ali is for drugs,
bank is for robbing anyway. It only matters if they
go looking for you for some reason, and nobody at
the center cares enough to go looking for me. There's
a familiar looking bicycle chained outside the library. When I
get there, recognize it as I've borrowed it a number

(15:02):
of times. It belongs to Jamal. I was ready to
handle more school bullies, maybe a child stabber or too,
but not Jamal. What do I say to him? Sorry, Jamal,
I didn't want to punch you, but a demon was
possessing me at the time, and if I hadn't done that,
he might have killed you instead. That's actually not bad,

(15:24):
and it's true. I can't lie to Jamal. I mean
I can, I've done it a number of times. But
I can't lie to Jamal now because I feel awful
about punching him. You don't start an apology with lies.
Maybe I can just avoid running into him altogether. As

(15:45):
I approached the library's front door, someone comes walking out backward,
pushing the door open with their butt because they've got
a bunch of books in their hands. And of course
it's Jamal. He looks right at me. Crap. He doesn't
say a just walks over to his bicycle and puts
the books in a backpack hanging off the rungs. Leave

(16:05):
it to Jamal to lock a bike, but leave the
backpack where anybody can snatch it. He's such a goof sometimes.
After emptying his hands, he turns toward me, still not
saying a word, and walks right up to me, just
staring me in the face. Jamal, he throws his arms up.
I flinch, thinking he's going to punch me. Instead, he

(16:27):
wraps them around me and hugs me tight. I go
well stiff, because maybe he's planning on crushing me in
some sort of bear hug embrace smooth. If you go stiff,
then when they squeeze, you can go slack and slide
right out of their arms. I imagine it works less
well on actual bears. I'm glad you're okay. He digs
his chin into my shoulder. I reach up and pat

(16:49):
him on the back because I'm not sure what else
to do. After a moment, he puts his hands on
my shoulders and holds me at a distance, like my
nana used to do when she was sizing me up.
The let me look at you, Oh my, look how
you've grown maneuver. Jamal smiles for a second, but then
turns serious. I heard about what happened with that crazy

(17:12):
guy who tried.

Speaker 2 (17:12):
To kill you.

Speaker 1 (17:14):
I wanted to visit you in the hospital, but he
looks away. He doesn't have to say why he didn't.
His father wouldn't let him. He doesn't like me. I
can't blame him. I don't like myself a lot of
the time. And I'd punched his son. Punch somebody's kid,
and they aren't too keen on letting that kid around

(17:35):
you again. And the younger the kid, the more likely
they are to keep you apart. The same goes for
old people. The older they are the worse off for
anyone who punches them. It's like there's some age somewhere
between being a baby and being a dusty old mummy
where it's perfectly all right to punch that person, but
leading up to it and away from it, things get

(17:56):
progressively worse for you if you do it, unless you're
a real little kid who doesn't know this weird punching
people rule. Then you just get scolded and told not
to do it again. That's your one time free punch
of pretty much anybody. I highly suggest spending it before
you reach six years old, because that's about the time
free punch goes away, and you're expected to know not
to do it, even if you haven't yet. But still

(18:17):
don't punch babies. That's never okay. I thought you'd be
mad at me, I say, examining my shoes, I'm not
really looking at them for any reason except that I
can't look him in the eyes. Checking my shoes for
dirt or stuff is a good excuse for looking down,
you know, for hitting you. He puts a hand on

(18:39):
his chin and pretends to adjust his draw Was that you?
I thought that was someone else pretending to be you.
Why are you being so calm about this? I said
awful things, and then I punched you. We look at
each other for a moment. Then I turned back to
my shoes. They have little sparkly stars on the laces.

(19:02):
You can only tell when the sun hits them just
right or a strong flashlight. They actually glow in the
dark too. The stars do not those shoelaces. I figure
it must be for when you're trying to find your
shoes in the dark. Did you mean them the things
you said and the punch, Did you mean that, he

(19:22):
asks pastors looking up at me. He hasn't said anything,
just hanging from my hand and listening. Maybe he's not
there again, but I have this feeling in my gut
that he is and he's watching. No, I say, finally,
that wasn't me. I don't tell him that the words

(19:47):
were fur first, nor that the punching I did only
because I was afraid that if I didn't Furfur would
hurt him worse. Jamal believes me when I tell him
about things, But would he believe me that I was possessed?
Sometimes people say and do things they don't mean when
they're hurting inside. He says, like he's a sage on

(20:07):
a mountaintop passing down wisdom to a weary traveler. They
already feel bad when someone hurts you. You can either
hold a grudge and let it continue hurting, or you
can forgive them and help them heal. I vote for
holding the grudge. After all, Splitting Ryan Blanchard's pants in
the middle of the school was very satisfying. Maybe tomorrow

(20:28):
I'll help him heal, but not today. He squeezes my shoulder.
You've had so much awful stuff happen to you. Enough
to drown an adult, and you're only what eleven I
forget when your birthday is. I'm sorry anyway, you and me,
we should be going to school, playing outside, reading comic books,
catching fireflies, digging up worms, and going down to the

(20:50):
brook to fish with our parents, not visiting their graves
and hiding from serial killers. He pauses to let his
words sink in. Someday he'll be a great public speaker
and give lots of speeches. You aren't the cause of
these things, Lily, this is happening to you. What kind

(21:11):
of friend would I be if I can't take a
hit when you're at your lowest? He leaves after that.
I don't watch him go because my eyes are kind
of blurry and watery, but I hear the clickety clack
of his bicycle chain as he pedals away. I just
stare down at the ground and my glow in the
dark shoelaces and watch a tear fall onto the tongue

(21:33):
of my shoe. Pastor still doesn't say anything. Did you
feed him all that? To say? I ask? Finally, Pastor
makes a chuckling snort. No, that's just who he is.
I slide my backpack off my shoulder and pull out

(21:54):
the shitty drawing of Freddy lapel that I made to
replace the worst one that Ryan ruined at school. Will
we find Meredith? If we do, I can't see it happening.
I've tried and tried to focus, but the future is fuzzy,
like the higher channels on a TV without cable, a
blurry picture that you can just make out bits and
pieces of. Are you watching Flight of the Navigator or

(22:16):
something inappropriate? You can't even tell. You just know that
there's a sleek, silver looking thing flying around, and everything's
tinted purple, and there's no sound, and when your parents
catch you, you're going to be sent back to bed. Yes,
Pastor says, Meredith's not gone, She's just hidden somewhere, and
wherever that is, we will find it. I feel pretty

(22:38):
certain you're not just saying that to make me feel better,
are you, I ask him. I don't want any false hope.
There's no such thing as false hope, Lily, there's just hope.
I wipe my eyes with the back of my sleeve.
I hope we find her. I hope so too. We

(23:01):
walk into the Winslow Library together. Sean, the librarian smiles
and waves from the card catalog, where he's helping a
high school student named Francis find a book on the
Peloponnesian War. Using the Dewey decimal system. He's going to
get a B plus on the report, mostly for grammatical
errors and a lack of specificity regarding the outcomes of
the major battles. Oh, for the love of Pete, stop.

Speaker 2 (23:32):
Either, kids, it's me mister Creepasta, and I just wanted
to tell you thank you so much for watching tonight's
video or for listening to tonight's episode of the podcast.
It's a brand new year, which means a brand new
time for content. We're doing our best to bring you
the newest things. I know. In twenty twenty four, I
had released less videos than I ever had any year
in the last fourteen years. But hey, as things start

(23:53):
to piece themselves back together, so do I. So I
will be seeing you guys a bit more in this year.
And as always, I want to give a very big
thank you to everybody who supports me over at Patreon,
Patreon dot com slash mister Creepypasta. I cannot thank you
guys enough. Thank you guys so much for being supporters
that goes for everybody who is down in the description,
as well as Acid System, Ball Arms, the Rat, Blake, Rattler,

(24:16):
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Chicago hit Man, Corey Kenschen, crown Up by a Way, Crusader,
joke about curse, Pock Primark to go to best than
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the Sun, Rinku Star, Salty, Surprise, samaraw Line, Seclude, Simbas,

(24:38):
Buddy Mojo, Sky Harper, Smiling a psychotic Sully Man, Tully Sue.
The shop is Brothers. Thank you guys so much for
being here, thank you for listening, thank you for watching.
In sweet your hands