CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "I Call My Father Every Christmas, This Year He Finally Called Me Back" Creepypasta

Episode Date: December 9, 2020

Ring ring. Merry Christmas. CREEPYPASTA STORY►by leeroyzombi: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comm...Creepypastas are the campfire tales of the internet. Horror stories spread through Reddit r/nosleep, forums and blogs, rather than word of mouth. Whether you believe these scary stories to be true or not is left to your own discretion and imagination. LISTEN TO CREEPYPASTAS ON THE GO-SPOTIFY► https://open.spotify.com/show/7l0iRPd...iTUNES► https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast...CREEPY THUMBNAIL ART BY►David Weinstock: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/EL...SUGGESTED CREEPYPASTA PLAYLISTS-►"Good Places to Start"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7YCb...►"Personal Favourites"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AEa2R...►"Written by me"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gX6RA...►"Long Stories"- https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list...FOLLOW ME ON-►Twitter: https://twitter.com/Creeps_McPasta►Instagram: https://instagram.com/creepsmcpasta/►Twitch: http://www.twitch.tv/creepsmcpasta►Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CreepsMcPastaCREEPYPASTA MUSIC/ SFX- ►http://bit.ly/Audionic ♪►http://bit.ly/Myuusic ♪►http://bit.ly/incompt ♪►http://bit.ly/EpidemicM ♪-This creepypasta is for entertainment purposes only-

Christmas would come and go every year and he never called back. I don't know what it was that made me call him around Christmas. Perhaps it was all the fuzzy memories I had of us around the holidays. How me, him and mom would decorate the tree together and he would dress up as Santa with a really bad beard that I used to pull away from his chin. That always made me laugh. He would let me open just one of my presents on Christmas Eve without Mom knowing.

It was our little secret. I can't say my childhood was very much. broken because of him. It was always full of happiness, even when he left us. Christmas was what I always came back to whenever I thought to my father. Everything else, including when he left, was just white noise. I never even saw any pictures of him because my mom got rid of them. All I had was this grainy image in my head. For years, I would pester my mom about him, asked questions she didn't want to answer, and most of the time she wouldn't. She, won't. She, wanted to. She, I wanted to forget him, and I think in the long run she thought I would too.

He left us, Garrett, she said once, impatiently, tired of me asking. I was tired of never getting an answer. He doesn't even have the right to call you Dad. I remember the hoarse conviction in a voice that day. It was years of anger, built up from my father's moonlight flit. When I was in bed that night, I heard her cry herself to sleep. If you've ever heard your mother do that, you'll know how heartbreaking it is to listen to. It stuck with me ever since.

I never wanted to see her that upset or angry ever again, so I never brought him up after that. Someone I've always been able to confide in is my uncle, Alan, my mom's brother. Uncle Alan never had children of his own. He was something he said wasn't for him, but he was treated me like I was his child. and in return he was like a father to me. When I was 14, I talked to him about my dad and asked if he knew what happened between him and mom. Relationships are hard, kiddo, he said, shrugging.

That's why I'm still single. Really? I thought he was just because you're an old fart. He flashed me a cheeky smile and a wink. I remember your mom and dad being very happy, but something below the surface just didn't work anymore. I don't know for sure, but I think there was someone else. After he left, I gave him a call. Before I could finish, I jumped up from my seat.

Wait, you have his number? No, he said a little too abruptly. You're a really crap liar. Uncle Alan sighed, rubbing his hand over his face, making the skin stretched down under his eyes. Your mom is going to kill me. Uncle Alan gave me his number, after a lot of emotional blackmail

and made me promise not to tell my mom. As soon as he did, I couldn't help it. I grinned ear to ear. I was happy to just have his number and his name in my phone. It's really pathetic, I know. Thank you, I said.

He gave me a half-ass smirk and ruffled my hair. I have no idea if he'll answer or if the number is even still in use. Please, Garrett, just don't get your hope. up, okay? That night I was upstairs with the covers over my head. The first time I called the number. I never put the covers over my head in my entire life, but it made me feel protected. It was like a fortress that kept my blend of excitement and anxiety at bay. For a while, I just stared at the

numbers on the screen and his name above it. Dad. What would I even say? What do he say to someone you don't really know or really remember. Eventually, I counted back from five and pressed the dial button. I waited in anticipation. Even though it was only seconds, it felt like hours before it started to ring. He didn't pick up the call. After a couple of rings, it went to a default voicemail message, much to my disappointment.

I wanted to hear his voice at least, see if it matched the voice in my memories. When the tone bleeped after the voicemail, I began to sweat. Hey, Dad, it's me. It's Garrett. I don't really know what to say. I started to laugh nervously. I got your number and I just thought I would... I've been thinking about you. I hope you get this message.

I quickly hung up. I didn't receive a phone call back. Year after year, it was the same situation. I would leave voicemails, but never get a response. The voicemails got less awkward as time went on, but they started to get shorter too. As I got older, I just wished him a Merry Christmas, and that was it. After the first time, I waited weeks for him to call me,

until I faced reality. It was never going to happen. I knew I would never get a response, but I still continued to call him every year anyway. Yeah, I guess I was probably torturing myself, unable to accept that I was unwanted by him, that he didn't want me in his life. If he did have another family, I wondered if they knew about me. I doubted it.

Even Uncle Alan didn't understand why I kept calling him. You know I love you, kiddo, your mom too. You don't need someone in your life like that. I wrote my eyes at him, always one for cheesy speeches. You have to say that because you're my uncle. He shook his head. No, I'm saying it because I mean it. Forget him, Garrett.

He's clearly forgotten about you. Uncle Alan saw the comment hurt me. No matter how much I tried to hide it. He put his arm around me and said, I should never have given you that number. When I was 19, my mom found out she had cancer. It was too late and there was nothing the doctors could do. She got sick pretty quickly and started to deteriorate just as fast.

I dropped out of college to come home and help take care of her. Uncle Alan helped too. When she died, all I had left was Uncle Alan. The house was left to me, along with a substantial inheritance. I hated being alone in the house without her. It felt so empty and hollow without a presence. So I asked Uncle Alan if he'd move in with me, which he happily did. I call my dad early November after a death.

It's Garrett, I began. My eyes started as well. I just thought you should know that mum died. This is the last time I'm ever going to call you. I get the point. You're dead to me too. After I hung up, I finally let myself cry. I moved around the house the next day,

bedging out in front of the couch, eating dry cornflakes from the box. Uncle Alan came into the living room and jumped over. of the couch to sit next to me. I didn't even take my eyes off the TV to indicate that I'd noticed. Okay, he said, clapping his hands together. First things first, you need to get a shower because I can smile you from the other side of the house.

Second, you're going back to school after Christmas because I'm sick of the sight of you. And thirdly, we're going to cook dinner together tonight. I continue to munch on the flakes. You can't even cook. He nodded. Yep, but you're going to show me, because you can. So go and wash that stink away

and put something other than sweatpants on, because we're going shopping. Before I could object, he snatched the cornflates box out of my hand and started eating them himself. Go on, he said with a mouthful, Scoot. God, you're so annoying, I said,

as I dragged myself out of the room. When I was out of sight, I smiled for what felt like the first time in months. Uncle Alan was chopping vegetables up, terribly, when it finally happened. My phone vibrated in my pocket. When I took it out, his name was on the screen. Dad, my face dropped, and I didn't know what to do.

I debated just leaving it, but I thought this might be my only chance, despite what I said in my voicemail the night before. Uncle Alan pulled me out of my trance. Everything okay, kiddo. Mind if I take this? I said, holding my phone up so he couldn't see. the screen. Of course, go ahead. I'm nailing this on my own anyway. I gave him a quick smile before stepping out onto the patio. The cold air hit my face straight away. The colder night

started to join early. I remember how bitter the temperature was that particular night. I took one last deep breath before I finally answered the call. Hello? Hello Garrett. It's me, Dad, I didn't know what to say. A swell of emotions clouded over me. I wanted to tell him to go to hell. I wanted to tell him it was good to finally hear his voice. I wanted to hang up. For a moment, all I could hear was my heavy breath amongst the silence between us.

I, I managed. Look, I know in your last message you said you didn't want to speak to me again, but... Ah, well, let's just say, It's been complicated. Complicated? That wasn't even an excuse. It was a cop out. No, I said defiantly.

I hung up before he could say anything else. When I went back inside, Uncle Alan had completely butchered the vegetables. All good? he asked, glancing over me. I felt numb all over. I couldn't even tell if I was hot or cold anymore. When I saw the concern on Uncle Lerner, Alan's face, I braved a smile. Yeah, fine, I said, raising an eyebrow at the chopping board. Tell you what, why don't you just bore the pastor? Later that night, I lay in bed. It was past 1 a

m. when my phone buzzed. He was a text message from him. Garrett, I know tonight was a shock to you. I apologize again for my silence over the years. Please don't think I didn't think about you or your mom. I've been a terrible parent and I realize that. I want to make a it up to you. I'll let you cool off, but please call me back, as soon as you're ready. Love, Dad. I caved in and called him back the next morning. The conversations over the next few weeks started off with a few home truths and exaggerations. I told him he was a poor excuse of a man. He ruined my mother's life. He ruined my life. I couldn't even remember him properly and so on. I let him have it because he was what he deserved.

What surprised me was his accountability. He was so calm about it. He was never defensive. He let me get it all off my chest. I made a huge mistake. I realized that, he said. So you keep saying, I muttered. I know how much making up I have to do.

I listen to your voicemails all the time. All of them, over the years. You sound so grown up now. Despite everything, he did at least listen to the messages. It was something, minuscule, but it was a start. Dad and I ended up talking every day. I would usually go for a walk around the neighbourhood so I could talk to him in private.

I didn't let Uncle Alan know we were in contact. I didn't know why, considering it was him who originally gave me his number. But for a while, I just wanted my dad to myself. I wanted to get to know him. The week before Christmas, things took a turn. when out of the blue he said, How would you like to come and spend Christmas with me? It seemed so sudden and so casual

that part of me felt it was too soon. Even though we'd been talking for over a month, I still felt like I didn't really know him. All I knew was that he lived alone in a farmhouse. I wanted to say no, but my impulses got the better of me. I said enthusiastically, but as soon as I agreed, I cringed.

I can't wait to me. meet you son. A few days later, I tried to run the conversation over in my head. How would I approach Uncle Allen about it? How would he react to it? Would he understand? Or would he put his foot down? I thought I could go in with the calm approach of, this means so much to me. You know I've wanted this since I was a kid. Or I could go with the attitude of, I'm a growing man now. I make my own decisions. In the end, I decided to do neither. Call me a chicken, but I didn't want him to sway me or get involved. As great as Uncle Alan had been, this was something I had to do.

So, I decided to write him a letter. I booked a flight out to Creekwood because Dad said it was the nearest airport to where he lived. In the middle of the night, I packed my bag, grabbed my passport and left the letter on the side in the kitchen. I waited a little further down the street for my cab. I didn't want to wake up Uncle Alan. When it arrived, I quickly hopped in. The nerves finally caught up with me. As the cab drove past my house and out of my street,

I hoped I wasn't making a mistake. I landed in Creekwood around 6am. I somehow managed to sleep for a bit on a short flight and woke up feeling like I was in a dream. I couldn't believe I'd gone through with it and now that I was near him, it felt real. I couldn't believe this was it. I grabbed a quick coffee,

which did nothing for my nerves, before I stepped outside. There was patches of snow on the ground. and the airport wasn't as busy as I expected. I looked out for the silver car he said he'd be in, but I couldn't see one. He didn't actually say where he would meet me. I waited for a while and tried to call him,

but he didn't pick up. I suspected he may have changed his mind and stood me up. There was a tap of my shoulder. Gary? I turned around and saw an older man. Distinctive lines creased his forehead, short, salt and pepper hair, tall. He was dressed in an expensive looking coat, far too light for the bitter weather.

He wasn't as I remembered him. Even in those fuzzy memories that were coated in white noise, I still didn't see the man before me. I smiled at the man politely. No. No, sorry, I said, turning my back away from him. Sorry, I meant to say Garrett. I turned back around and nodded. I tightened my hands in the pockets of my coat. I didn't know what else to do with them. I wondered if I should hug him. No, too soon, I thought.

I considered offering my hand to shake. But before I knew it, he was walking ahead. Come on, he said, you must be freezing. The drive took a couple hours. I couldn't believe how far out of Creek would he lived. In that time, the conversation between us was light, small talk, the weather, my journey, mundane crap that we were both disinterested in. Luckily, the sound of the radio kept it from feeling more awkward than it was.

It began to snow when we passed the sign for silver oaks, and I stared out the window like a curious child, taking in the sight of the massive oak trees. The surroundings made we feel slightly claustrophobic, like it was an endless tunnel of greenery that only seemed to get more narrow as we drove into it. Beautiful, isn't it? Dad said, without taking his eyes off the road.

I nodded. You really have been tucked away from the world all these years, haven't you? I didn't mean for it to sound sarcastic as it came out, but it didn't seem to phase him. It's quiet around here. I like the quiet. Once we were past the endless road of trees, I must admit that the whole place looked picturesque,

especially because it was covered in snow. The trees extended up the hill that looked down on the town, and at the top there was an old radio tower. Nearly there, Dad said. The farmhouse looked like something from the front cover of a paperback you'd find at a gift store. It was bigger than I imagined. The driveway wasn't that far from the road,

but it seemed like it was completely cut off from civilization. The woods behind the house only heightened my thoughts about it. It made the house look completely isolated. Before getting out of the car, my phone vibrated. When I looked at the screen, it was Uncle Alan attempting to call me. Do you need to get that?

Dad said. I smiled at him. Uh, no. It can wait. Inside, the house was lifting, and very old. It wasn't the type of place I imagined Dad to live at all. Even though I was there to spend Christmas with him, there was no decorations anywhere,

which only added to the grim atmosphere of the inside. The whole place smelled pretty musty. I noticed some of the lining in the faded wallpaper was stained and peeling away from the wall. I walked over to the living room and spotted some photos of a baby on the dusty mantle. Photos of me, I assumed. I've never seen these ones before, I said. Dad came up behind me. I took them with me when I left.

It struck a nerve with me and I couldn't keep my tongue still. If you've had these up all this time, then why did you never have ever? call me back? I put them up after they left. Who? My other family. It was the first I heard of another family. I couldn't believe he didn't mention them before when he had ample opportunity to do so.

The rage bubbled inside me, but I didn't let it get the better of me. I'd only just got there and I didn't want to start an argument before I barely stepped through the front door. And even though my face clearly told him I wasn't impressed at the same. news, Dad's face was completely neutral. I'll show you to your room, he said, grabbing my bag for me. The upstairs were exposed beams in the ceiling that made the house look bigger than it actually was. There was also quite a few rooms upstairs.

All of their doors closed. The one he took me to was very basic, just a single bed and a bedside table. It seemed comfortable enough. I suppose you'll want to rest for a while, recuperate from your flight. I felt fine, but I grabbed the opportunity to be alone and gather the thoughts flying around in my head. That'll be great, thanks. Dad left the room abruptly without saying anything else. He gave the door open, so I gently closed it as I heard his footsteps trotting down the stairs.

It had been awkward since the moment I stepped off the plane. It was all too much. The whole atmosphere in the house was very cold and static, just like him. and to learn he had another family only made me feel worse. I finally looked at my phone to see a text from Uncle Alan. I understand, kiddo. You should have just told me. But please, let me know you're all right.

I texted him back, letting him know everything was great. A complete lie. I crashed down on the bed and tensed as the cold sheets touched my skin. When I woke up, it was dark outside. I looked at my phone. and it had just gone past 6pm. The bedroom was like an icebox. I stumbled in the dark to locate the door.

I went to use the wall to guide me, and instantly flinched away. They were damp. There were no lights on in the house at all, and I couldn't hear a sound. I made my way downstairs, searching the damp walls for a light switch, but I couldn't detect one.

It was worse outside the bedroom. It was that cold that I saw my breath in front of me, I looked over to the living room, vacant. I wondered if perhaps Dad had gone outside while I slept. Still, I found it unusual to leave someone who was essentially a stranger in their house, even if I was his son. I saw the lamp next to the couch and went to turn it on.

You're awake. His deep voice came from the kitchen. When I turned around, he was sitting perfectly still at the table. I could just make out his silhouette in the dark, and I noticed both his hands rested, palms flat on the top of the table. You scared me, I said, I broke on him cautiously. Something was off, really off. Why are you sitting in the dark?

I get migraines easily, he muttered. Bright light doesn't help. I'm feeling better now. When I was in the kitchen, I stood across from the table, not knowing what to do with myself. Okay, well, can I put a light on then? Dad was silent for a moment. He cocked his head to one side.

The whole scenario, darkness, just sitting there, slow responses. He made me feel very out of ease. If you like, he finally said. I found the switch to the side of the door. The light hung down just above the table. It reflected off his skin. which looked slimy and grey, completely drained of any colour. He didn't look well at all.

Are you all right, Dad? His pink grimed eyes peered up at me. Yes, as I said, I feel much better now. He said, are you hungry? Seeing him like that made me lose any appetite I had completely. I think you should go to bed and rest. He flashed me a sickly grin. his teeth were covered in thick film

like they hadn't been brushed in days I'm perfectly fine Gary my face hardened Garrett oh he said moving his hands across the table like he'd lost something didn't I used to call you Gary

when you were a child I shrugged you tell me even if he did he didn't mention it in any of our conversations over the phone own. Dad got up from the table, squinting his eyes. He began pacing the kitchen. His posture was stiff, like he was hanging from a string. Well, I don't... don't quite remember if... He trailed off to the worktop and turned so his back-faced me. He stared out the window, at the nothing outside.

All I could see from where I stood was our reflections in the glass. I found myself backing away to the door, when he started rocking his head from side to side. What do you mean, you don't remember? I asked. No, no, I do. I called you Gary. I'm sure of it. Well, Mom never mentioned it, I said. I couldn't tell if I was shivering because of the cold anymore, or if it was because of the way he was acting. Dad suddenly relaxed his back and leaned over the worktop. Do you like macaroni cheese? He said, in the tone I was more familiar with from my phone calls.

Even the look in his eyes had changed. It was like the last few minutes didn't even happen. He noticed my confused glare. Are you all right, Garrett? Fine, I lied. So, macaroni cheese. I huddled my arms together. Do you have any heat?

He nodded. of course I'll go turn it on when he walked past me I flinched away from him Uncle Alan takes the gain to see if I was alright I wanted to tell him that I made a huge mistake that there was something really off about Dad but I didn't want to worry him

I decided I would book a flight home tomorrow and make my excuses to leave Dad cooked the meal while I sat on the living room on the musty smelling sofa even with the heat on the house was still ice cold. Dinner's ready, he called over. Great. When I sat at the table, I picked my food. Dad didn't touch any of his. Aren't you going to eat, I asked. I'll eat later, he said. I pushed the plate away. I'm not hungry either. This is nice, isn't it, son?

He twitched. His eyes had changed again. I started to wonder what was wrong with him. He looked worse than he did half an hour ago. Dad, I think, I think we rushed into this. He rested his chin under his grasped hands. Rushed? I couldn't meet his stare. I don't think I'm ready for this. I think this is just too much. But you're my son. I love you. His voice had no empathy or emotion. He was almost like he was rehearsing for a bad TV show. You don't even know me. Yes, I do.

You're my little Gary. I slammed my hand on the table. Can you stop calling me that? Nobody has ever called me that. He didn't respond. Just gazed at me curiously. I looked at the clock behind him. How little time we had actually seen each other in person

and the whole time it felt like had been in the company of a stranger, which he was really. I thought the conversations on the phone were a start But this person in front of me He didn't know who I was Or at least he confused me with someone else It was clear enough to me He seemed so collected and put together

Whenever we spoke before But as we sat opposite one another He seemed as isolated from me As he'd been for nearly 15 years I should never have got in the car with him Who is Gary I finally said He's upstairs

Dad said abruptly What? Dad stared down at his plate Gary and Moira I got up from the table every hair in my body erect Who are Gary and Moira Dad slowly raised his head back up from the plate

Blood trickled out of his eye sockets falling over the uneven meal in front of him My eyes widened as he jumped up on the seat of his chair Like he was on hind legs I stepped back as he climbed the table pressing his hands into the plate of bloody food, knocking the glasses and cutlery to the floor. He was ready to pounce. Dad?

Whatever was before me. It wasn't my dad anymore, and I started to think he never actually was. I tried to push past the block in my memories. I still couldn't see his face underneath Santa's beard. I never saw those pictures on the mantle before, because they weren't pictures of me. It was someone else, Gary. Dad, or whoever the hell he was, led out a shrill laugh. As he did, his smile stretched out, tearing the skin at the sides of his mouth until he was grinning ear to ear.

The blood poured over his exposed gums. I think I'm hungry now, he growled. I didn't think twice about it. I sprinted from the kitchen towards the front door. Behind me, I hadn't jumped down from the table. When I reached the door, it wouldn't open. it was locked. My only option was to run upstairs.

Dad leaped from the floor and stuck to the ceiling. He crawled along the beams like a spider, his blood staining the artex as he dragged himself across it. I ran straight for the room directly opposite the stairs and slammed the door shut behind me. There was an almighty bang on the floor from the other side. When I turned the light on in the room, I saw a shadow under the crack in the door.

Dad started to rattle the door furiously. Garrett. He said calmly, Open the door. I backed away, panting breathlessly. Then the smell hit me. I covered my arm over the end of my nose. Jesus Christ, I uttered.

Dad continued the bang against the door. I looked on the bed behind me, looked at the massacre in the room. Dried blood stained the walls and on the bed lay three skeletal corpses. They were skinless. I guess two of them were garreted. and Moira, his other family.

I tried to look away, but I couldn't believe what was before me. Even as I ran over to the window, I kept looking back over my shoulder the corpses. Below, the drop didn't look that far down. I figured I didn't have much choice if I was to make it out of there alive. I opened it up, bracing myself for the jump into the snowy ground when Dad burst to the door, eyes wild, shattering the wooden frame. I was about to jump when he leapt onto me. Before I knew it, my face was being smothered into his bloody bib.

I pushed him, wriggled, struggled. It was no use. He was budging off me. I came face to face with his menacing grin. His teeth started to fall from his gums, hitting me in the face one by one. Below them, canine vangs formed. I screamed as one of his remaining teeth fell into my mouth. I instantly spat it out and managed to wriggle my arms out from under him.

I grabbed his arms and the skin came away like carved men. meat. Underneath there was nothing but muscle. The more I pushed, the more he laughed and his skin continued to tear away from his face. The wet, bloody pieces of flesh fell over me until there was no longer any flesh on his face. Human flesh at least. Whatever looked back at me was not human. No longer my dad, but a grinning crimson monster. Garret, he growled. I looked the monster dead in the eyes. My breath stopped as it opened up his jaws, where it was. to snap his fangs into my skull. I managed to use my knee and arms

to push it away from me. When I stood up, he was ready to pounce at me once again. When it did, I jumped out the way and it went flying out the window, smashing the glass. I instantly ran over and looked down below. It wasn't there. It was gone. All I could see was its blood

scattered over the snow, making a track to the woods. I ran downstairs and searched Dad's Coat Pocket. The geese were in the house. there. Thank God, I whispered. I ran straight for the car. As I started the ignition, the headlights reveal the scarlet creature running on its hind legs directly towards the car like a hound. I pushed my foot in the pedal and crashed right into it. It screeched as it went under the car and crossed underneath it. I drove back towards the drive and sped away from the farmhouse. I was a shaking,

bloody mess. I couldn't stop anywhere to get cleaned up, not unless I wanted to end up being questioned by the police. The only thing that kept me going was my determination to get as far away from that place as possible. On the way home, I called Uncle Alan trying to explain what had happened, but he couldn't make sense of what I was saying. I couldn't even make sense of it. It took me hours, but I drove all the way back home. There was barely any gas left in the tank when I made it to the house. When I pulled up, everything ached. Uncle Alan ran out, and when he saw the stay to me, he quickly ushered me inside. Garrett, what the hell happened?

Uncle Alan got rid of the car. I didn't ask how, and even though he didn't leave the story I told him, he told me to never tell anyone. I didn't have to ask him what he thought happened if I wasn't telling the truth, or just in shock, as he put it. I saw it in the way he looked at me as soon as I came in.

To put my mind at rest, Uncle Alan found a picture of my father in an old photo album he had. There was a photo of my parents on their wedding day. It was him. Younger, younger, and still not how I remembered him as a child, but definitely my father. I still didn't understand how he became that thing.

Until I remembered the third corpse on that bed, until I remembered the third corpse on that bed, and the way my dad's skin came away from the crimson monster. The only question I had in my mind was if, any of it, the phone calls were ever really him. And if it wasn't, why did that thing target me?

On Christmas Day, I threw the photo of my dad into the fire and watched the edges curl until the flames broke through his face. Then, he disappeared.