Hello, everybody. I hope that you're all doing well. Well, we're in the full swing of the holiday season,

and I must say it's one of my favorite times of the year. Cozy up inside and listen to some of your

favorite scary stories as we drift further into Mr. Creve's mind. I work at a motel.

I think that Skinwalkers are staying here.

Written by Blair Daniels.

If you're ever driving down Route 106 in Michigan and you see a sign for the Greenbrier Motel, you better

just keep on driving because there is something terribly wrong here and the last thing that

I would want is for more people to die. I started working at the Greenbrier Motel a week ago.

It wasn't a dream job by any standards, night shift at the front desk,

checking people in and out, doing some inventory in the back. I like the peace and quiet, though.

As a little rundown motel on a stretch of isolated highway in Michigan, it gave me a lot of time to read and play computer

games while on the clock. It also helped that the owner of Frank didn't seem to care that I was a

high school dropout with a rap sheet. But on the very first day, I felt that something was terribly

off. For one, there was the smell. When the wind shifted, the entire

parking lot smelled like rotting meat. I ran to close the windows, but even then I could still

smell it, seeping in through the H-FAC system. The motel is surrounded by deep wood, so I figured maybe we were near the kill grounds of some

animal, or maybe it was just the endless roadkill of deer and possums on the highway.

Either way, it was unsettling, and definitely not enjoyable.

The other thing that struck me as odd were the guest rooms.

Some of them didn't have windows, and it seemed like that was intentional.

I could see the lines in the paint, the seams outlining where the windows had once been.

When I asked Frank, he told me that

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