CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "I grew up in a Cult. Here's how I left" Creepypasta

Episode Date: February 8, 2021

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by Mr_SLC: 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►Alan Canepa: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/k4...​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/CreepsMcPasta​CREEPYPASTA 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-

My mother sat across from me, leaning forward onto the old oak desk in her office. That's what she called it, her office. Even though it was just that desk, a stack of all papers, and her chair in a room no bigger than a walking closet. I remember there was an insect flying around the overhead light, clanking into the bulb every so often. That would draw my attention away from my mother's words until she would snap her fingers that draw me back in. Eventually, she told me to listen up, or else the consequences. would be huge. The insect was of no fascination to me anymore.

My older brother and I were homeschooled. She was our teacher, and she took a job seriously. She was questioning me in regard to my brother's absence from class that morning. I said I didn't know where he was. That was the truth. For the most part. She insisted that because we share a room, I must have known something about his whereabouts.

Again, I said I didn't know where he was. for perhaps the first time in my life I noticed my mother's age. Her face sagged as if the weight of iron bars was bringing her skin down. Whether it was due to stress or a lack of sleep or any other reason in the world, she looked far older than I had ever noticed before. After a while of her sitting there, staring at me with those burdening eyes, both of her arms folded across the edge of the desk. I finally suggested that we go looking for him.

And just where do you suppose we could find him? She asked, The woods, maybe? You know we aren't to go into the woods. I don't think you would have made it far anyway. Somebody surely could have stopped him in time. I don't know then. I don't know where he is.

She stared at me for another infinite moment. Finally, the tension in her eyes broke. Well then, you'll just have to go to your room and don't come out. So I did. I trotted back to my room. It was only a few steps away from her office, but tears had already begun to well in my eyes because I knew where my brother was. He did go into the woods, and I knew the exact path he told me he was going to take. Like my brother, I wanted to leave.

Unlike my brother, I was too afraid at the time to face the unknown. After all, I'd never been in those woods, nor had I ever seen what sort of world existed beyond them, if any, for all I knew. I woke up that next morning to my mother, banging on my bedroom door. Every morning, it seemed to be only one more beating away from falling off the hinges. I often wished it would. Just so I wouldn't have to listen to that beating at 6.30 every morning. Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, don't be late for class, she yelled. She would repeat this constantly until I told her I was up and getting ready.

My classroom was just the main room of the house. I sat on a chair. She sat beside me. Her desk was in between us in case either of us needed to write something down. I remember that morning. I remember how my mother looked. Hollow.

Perhaps she looked like exactly what she was. A mother grieving her missing son, struggling to accept that there are far more important things in life, things for the future. I suspected that she had went and consulted my father that previous night. That's what she usually would do in a crisis. He always reassured her that good things will come. I said my pledge before sitting down.

I was to always open the curtains and look at the middle house on the property as I said it. It went like this. To my father, thank you. Through you, the seeds of my life was sown. I will give my all to you. Until there is none left to give, I am with you, and with you I will always be. I sat down beside my mother. She wasted no time telling me the story of a boy that ran away from home decades ago.

That boy, just a teenager at the time, was called upon by God to leave the horrors of society behind and to organise a group of good, faithful individuals, people that would act as God's replacement to society after its collapse. The man changed his name to Gabriel King before forming a community with a dozen women. Each woman was to bear two of his children. He warned the women that their community is not immune and that one day a child will fall victim to Satan's temptations. That child will leave the community with the intention of bringing shame upon it.

He also warned that following the first departure, another child would be granted, by God, the freedom of choice, either to stay and render his will or leave and have the eternal horrors of Satan's doing bestowed upon him. That is the prophecy, my mother stated, you, based on clear evidence according to your father, are the one granted that right to choose. Not to swear your opinion, but I must ask, do you choose mortality, comfort in our goodwill, or do you choose immortality and a diseased, evil likelihood?

She walked toward the door, careful not to let a black skirt drag the floor, and opened it. If you choose to leave, she continued, I will not stop you. It would be an interference with God's will. A cool breeze flowed into the room. I sat in silence for a moment, contemplating, twiddling a button on my shirt. I'll... Stay, I muttered. I had no real intentions of staying, and I knew that.

Truthfully, I was afraid of the possibility that she was right, that I was choosing the will of Satan and turning my back on all that is good. My mind was made up, but I couldn't bring myself to admit my true feelings. good my mother said then went directly into a new lesson days and days went by until finally on a night of no other significance and worked up the courage to follow my brother's footsteps almost literally and never see the stale dusty foul-smelling shack that i had called home for all my years there was nothing to my plan just walk out the front door and leave that simple only it is It wasn't that simple, not in practice. Sure, I wouldn't have to worry about things the way my brother did. Everybody by this point had probably heard the prophecy, and they would let me go. The issue was that my struggle was internal.

Every day for years, I had given my allegiance to one man, to one lifestyle, and like everybody else around me, I held on to my faith without question. I believed in his sayings more than his doings, and I suppose that a part of me was not ready to let that go. I had been educated only by the standards of my own small world. The idea that something bigger may be out there, ready to prove me insignificant. It was terrifying.

Leaving home for the first time was a wager on reality itself. Leaving and staying were both dreadful. My mind was juggling spheres of different colours and I realised that I was pulling my own hair. That's it. That's enough thinking, I thought. It's time for me to go. I walked straight into the woods.

I wondered how many other people in these small homes had considered doing what I was doing. I could barely do it myself, so I just kept on walking. The woods are loud at night. Bugs and frogs and birds all chimed into some horrifying harmony. Wals and coyotes made their noises heard on occasion as well. I couldn't begin to know what else was out there.

Sometimes it sounded like something was behind me I'd look but of course nothing was there I was sure that I was siking myself out but the sense of something behind me remained throughout the entirety of the night I was sure that I heard somebody screaming for help my brother oh dear God my brother is still in the woods

crying screaming pleading for help I turned left towards the screams they sounded farther away I turned right and they were farther away again. I moved forward again, but the screams, his begging, never sounded any closer. I couldn't turn back. Oh, no, no, no, I couldn't turn back. By that point, I'd been walking forever, listening to his pleading, stab my ears,

always sounding the same distance away, no matter how much I walked. I threw up a prayer to whatever entity wanted to listen. I didn't care at that point, to please let it all be in my head. I'd rather be going crazy than have to listen to my poor innocent brother scream for help when there's nothing I can seem to do about it I kept moving

not even willing to stop when the pain of the rocks and needles and twigs on the ground made my feet bleed and sting at some point the sky lightened up many of the noises including the screaming subsided

the birds sang much more lovely music finally I came to the edge of the woods and everything was calm The edge of the woods was nothing more than a long, narrow clearing before the trees began again. A trail of a fading black rock made a seam straight through it, yellow and white lines round the middle and edges of it. Now I know that was a road. At the time, I had never seen one. It never came up during schoolroom discussions. My legs were excruciatingly sore, my feet had moved past the point of pain and were now numb lumps.

of meat shelled in mud and blood. I didn't know what to do, where to go, or who to meet. In fact, I was afraid of seeing anybody. Soon enough, I felt the ground rumble just a tiny bit and heard a dull whistling. I turned my head and waited. When I saw it, I knew what it was. In school, my mother had explained that a vehicle is a machine that can transport people faster than God had ever intended humans to travel.

If we were meant to move that fast, she'd say, God would have made our legs go that fast. Funny how she said all that, and didn't bother to mention the roads they drive on. It was a big vehicle with an open box attached to the back. I didn't expect vehicles to look like that. It slowed down and stopped on the grass beside the road. The driver hopped out and ran to me.

I considered running back into the woods. This man is going to snatch me and commit unspeakable sins against me. surely that's what he's going to do, I thought. I felt paralysed and couldn't run away, even if I wanted to. The man stopped before me. He was mostly normal looking, a bit bigger than most people I'd ever seen. There was hair on his face, something I'd never seen before.

Jesus Christ, son, he said, I ain't even going to worry about asking you no questions. Get in, I need to take you to the police. He finished off his sentence by taking up. his hat, scratching his thinning head of hair, and carefully replacing the hat. I followed him back into his truck, half trusting him and half afraid of what might happen if I didn't. The first time I saw Police Chief Richards, he was leaned back in his office chair with his feet on his desk. When he saw me, he promptly dropped his feet and leaned forward.

His eyes appeared to widen to the size of apples. He motioned for me to come forward and have a seat. The chief calmly did another visual scan over me, then looked back at the man who walked me into the office. calmly, he looked at the man and said, "'Gee's, Leonard, I've seen some things in my day, but nothing like this. What's the story?' A guy found him on the side of the road, brought some straight here.

That's it. I think the kid says he doesn't have a name, but I can barely understand him. Well, boy, the chief looked back at me. Come take a seat. I'm police chief Richards, by the way. You don't have a name, I suppose. How old are you? Do you know where you're from? I'm 14.

You're not going to hurt me, are you? I asked. Chief Richards kept his right here toward me as I taught. He shifted his eyes to continue looking at me. He listened carefully and intently. You're asking if we'd hurt you. Now why on earth would we do that? No, we ain't here to hurt you. We want to help you, because you look like you sure could use some of it.

Now, where are you from? He spoke softly and smiled again at the end of his sentences. The woods, I told him, in order to keep it short and understandable. I'm looking for my brother. Have you seen him? Looking for your mother? Leonard, shut the door behind you and take some notes, would you? Son, I'll be happy to talk about your mother and see what we can do. I need some basic information first.

Do you know where at in the woods you come from? "'No, brother,' I said. "'I even drew a B and an R in the air, so he'd understand. "'Oh, your brother, Leonard, and this boy a sheet of paper and a pen. "'It'd be a lot easier if you could write this stuff down for us, okay?' "'I wrote down all the information I could give him. "'I wrote that I was 14, looking for my brother, "'and I'm from a community in the woods,

"'but I have no idea where at in the woods.' "'Okay, how many people are in the community?' 35, now my brother and I are gone, I wrote. Okay, son, we'll send some people out there to find this place. They must be the ones that did this to you, right? He pointed towards my arm and my face. I sat in silence for a moment. I didn't know what to do or say.

I took my sheet of paper and wrote the truth. It was an awkward moment of writing, but I did it. Father would make all his children dedicate themselves to him One piece at a time For me it was my arm An eye, an ear and my lips For my brother It was much more

Much, much more He was close to being fully dedicated Some tears smudged the ink as they fell onto the paper It had occurred to me beforehand How much like a monster I must look to these people A boy with a missing arm, an empty eye socket, just a plain hole for an ear, not even any lips, just exposed gums and rotting teeth. I felt disgusting. Chief was pale.

And your brother, he asked, I suppose he must have crawled out of that place. I nodded, and tears continued to fall. After a long moment of silence, the chief looked at me and said, You know, son, Roleborn into some kind of cult or another, but I'm glad you got out of yours.