CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "I hate ghosts. Here's why." Creepypasta

Episode Date: June 9, 2021

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by Tomodashi24: 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 Bocquillon Carrasco: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/w6...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-

Ghosts have scared me since forever, and it's something I can't control. I'm very careful not to pass near supposedly haunted places when I go on a trip. I investigate any type of paranormal activity when I rent a new house or have a new job in an area that I'm not familiar with, and I would not go to a cemetery at night for all the money in the world. I mean, cemeteries in themselves are a place that I'd never go, but going there at night is something I would not do even by accident. Not to diss people who do it, but they are way too unconscious for their own good.

My friends laugh at me every time I tell them this, and I understand why. At the end of the day, I'm a grown man who is afraid of ghosts, characters that were used to make children go to sleep early. How can you not laugh at that? The problem is my past, that I know things that my friends don't. the most horrible moments of my life happened thanks to the ghosts and I don't want to pretend that I'm not afraid of them when I know what they are capable of if we mess with them

clearly my friends don't know what I'm about to tell you but I have no major problem telling you to a bunch of strangers on the internet why I guess I have to get it off my chest and a group of people that I would never see in real life are less likely to judge me than real friends whose faces I must see when I tell them about the biggest trauma of my life. Some might say that it's a cowardly outlet for venting, and perhaps they are right.

But I like to believe that this is my first step in coming to terms with what happened that night. Maybe if I can tell this story and post it online for everyone. Eventually, I'll gain enough confidence to tell my closest people the reason behind my fear. Sorry, I know I'm getting ahead of myself. and I didn't even begin to tell them the reason behind my fear of ghosts. My story starts when I was nine years old. It was summer break, and, of course, I was spending my afternoon playing with my friends, Kenny, Johnny, Marcus and Frankie.

We liked to lay around in the woods, playing cowboys, or just lying on the grass to read comic books or an adult magazine that some of the boys would sneakily bring from home occasionally. Every now and then, we would do one. wrestling shots that we watched on TV, clearly unprotected. Honestly, it amazes me that we hadn't seriously injured each other more than once. To this day, they are friends that I can't forget, and I keep smiling with nostalgia when I go back to those years, although that happiness always ends up being clouded by the memory of what happened. It was a summer day like any other.

We were lying on the grass, looking at the clouds and finding shapes. That looks like a giant marshmallow, Marcus said. They don't, dude. Are you that hungry? I replied. Of course I am. I barely had breakfast today. You're eating chips now, you fat, so. Frank yelled. I like eating. Should I apologize for that? I also like your mom. We all laughed and even Frankie couldn't help but smile. Of course, not wanting to admit it, he changed the subject of the conversation.

This is boring. Did you see that episode of CSI? Of course I saw it, I lied. Everything about murders and deaths gave me the creeps, but I was never going to recognise it. It was boring, Frankie said, without turning to look at us. Even at nine years old, he was much more daring than the rest of us. I haven't been excited about anything in a long time. I wish I could see something really scary, at least once.

Frankie, I don't think it's a good idea to say that, John said, shrinking his body at the mention of such a thing. Yeah, you better listen to my little brother, man. Babies like you shouldn't talk about big boy stuff. I closed my eyes and disgust, knowing who had said that phrase. The boys turned to the right to see that I was correct. Jeremy, John's older brother, was standing there. Jeremy was a complete idiot. At 13, he was about a foot taller than his little brother, and he always liked to tease us, hit us from time to time, or just being a general party pooper whenever he saw us. As always, John hid behind Marcus, trying not to be seen by his asshole brother.

Leave us alone, Jeremy, what do you want? Kenny asked sourly. Nothing, nothing, I was just passing by. I heard one of you say that you wanted something scary, and I thought, well, no, you're not really. ready to hear this. It's a story for grown-ups. We are grown-ups, you giant idiot, said Frankie, almost jumping. Tell us what you're talking about. Jeremy gave a little laugh, closing his green eyes before opening them again and seeing us all. Have you ever heard the legend of the white widow? He remained silent. Jeremy was the guy who knew the most urban stories and legends in the entire city, and there was no one to match his knowledge on the city.

the subject. Sure, a lot of the things he told us were lies to annoy us, but that didn't mean he didn't know how to narrate them well enough to attract new dupes into his networks. Logically, none of us knew the answer to his question, but we weren't going to say it out loud. Even John was afraid to tell his brother that he didn't want to know anything about his stupid story. Jeremy smiled and kept talking. 20 years ago a happy couple was about to get married They were an elementary school teacher and the former town postman She was the happiest woman in the world

Her family loved her fiancé and her friends were jealous whenever they saw them together There was one particular woman who remembered her more than anyone else Jealousy ate her every time she looked to the couple She wanted to marry that man more than anything in the world On the wedding day the teacher waited to for a feeling safe for hours. Everyone was nervous, scared, and they started to realize the most horrible

thing. Her man had left a plant it on the altar. We were all quiet. The intensity Jeremy brought to his stories was always on point, as if he were born to tell them. John didn't bother trying to hide that his legs were shaking from the tension,

but the rest of us weren't much better either. Only Frankie was genuinely interested in what would happen next. The woman cried while returning home, but when she turned on the lights, she realized the horrible reason behind a man's absence. Her friend, the one who envied her happiness, had killed the poor postman with an axe, and she was stroking his severed head, sitting in a favourite chair. The poor widow was in shock. She took the axe that was at her side and blew a friend's head, unable to stop crying.

She went mad forever. She got in a car and threw it over the edge of a bridge, drowning. And what happened next? I dared to ask, clearing my throat to cover my fear. That same night, the caretaker went on his night rounds, and everything seemed normal. Until, he heard a voice, a period of nowhere. It sounded like a sob, carried by the wind, tears of pain carried out by the supical tone she used to throw them. The poor man turned around

And there she was In the same wedding dress Looking at him She said Where is my husband And attacked him without waiting for an answer They found the poor man dead the next day His eyes wide open with fear

We were all scared And from what a good smell John had wet his pants Since then Every night the white widow wonders Through the city's cemetery searching for anyone who can tell her where the soul of the man she lost forever is

and attacking anyone who doesn't know the answer. But hey, you don't care, do you guys? I mean, you're too cowardly to go to the cemetery and your moms would never let you out so late anyway. Who are you calling cowards, you moron? Frankie jumped, his bride hurt and anticipating what the rest of us wanted him to say. It was one thing to be scared,

but no one was going to doubt our bravery. I'm just telling the truth, Frank. I'm very afraid to go to the cemetery and run into the white widow. And you are not braver than me. You're way braver than you, I dared to answer. I glanced at Frankie and Kenny's faces, and I knew they would be willing to jump on Jeremy's neck if they weren't so nervous and scared.

Well, in that case, I suppose you can prove it. I dare you to go to the cemetery tonight, Jeremy said, looking at us with a challenging expression on his face. He was always trying to force us to do stupid things, and it seemed that this was not going to be the exception. Well, how do we know you're going to find out if we do? You're not going anyway, replied Kenny, always the focus kid of the group. Oh, I'll find out, Jeremy said, smiling again. At the cemetery at midnight, and I don't take complaints.

If you really are brave than me, you'll find a way to go there and prove it. He concluded, turning around and leaving without saying goodbye. We stood there for a while, unable to say anything, until Johnny came out from behind Marcus slowly, like a turtle leaving its shell. We're not going, are we? It's a challenge, Johnny. Of course we have to go. It's what separates the men from the boys, said Kenny, his mind made up.

But do you want the white widow to attack you? Buddy, did you really believe? in that story, Magus said, contained and affectionate. Think for a moment. Ghosts don't exist, and even if they did,

why would she be looking for a fiancé soul in the cemetery instead of the house where she died? It goes against all horror movies. But there can be a lot of bad things in a cemetery. If that happens, I'm going to protect you, buddy,

like I always have, Marcus continued, not noticing our exasperation at John's complaints. Ah, are we really going to run away from home? You don't have to run away, you coward, Frankie said, unwilling to take any more complaints from John. You tell your mommy that you are going to your

boyfriend's house and then the two of you come with us to the cemetery. If you're so scared, you can ask him to grab your hand. Leave him alone, Frankie. He gets scared because he can think about things, something you should start doing. I mean, you should learn something about that after watching so many horror movies. Anyway, just make sure the little princess doesn't ruin our party. he replied spitting on the floor. Come on man, stay over at Marcus's house. I don't think your mother will have a problem, I said, trying to decompress the situation.

Okay, I'll do it, Johnny said, feeling safe next to Marcus. After that, we all agreed that we were going to meet at the cemetery at midnight, and then we relaxed, going back to our games until it was time to go home, where we all reminded each other that we should meet at the cemetery. and bring something to protect us. That afternoon, as I went home alone, I remember my nerves growing more and more. The hours passed, and by the time the appointed time came,

I was nervous as ever in my entire life, but I knew I could not back down. If even Johnny wasn't going to chicken away, then I couldn't be less than that. I stole the golf club from Dad's closet that he didn't use anyway, and I escaped through my bedroom window. My heart was beating so fast that I felt it about to leave my chest, and it continued until I reached the entrance to the cemetery,

just about four blocks from my house. As expected, the boys were already there, and Frankie was the first to point out to me. We thought you'd chicken out. Where the hell were you? In bed with your mom, should we... Oh, come on, guys, am I the only one who brought a weapon? I said, looking in disbelief at the empty hands of my friends, Damn, I knew I was forgetting something, Frankie replied.

We all burst out laughing. I wasn't upset that I was the only one responsible in the whole group. It was impossible to get angry when Frankie was there to make you laugh. Guys, how long are we going to be doing this? John asked, trying to hide his nerves. I would say for not too long, our parents may find out that we ran away, and then we would be more dead than the white widow,

said Kenny, or everything. Everyone laughed except for John. I would say that half an hour will be enough. All we have to do is go there, hang out for a bit, and get out quickly. Half an hour? Guys, it's too long, John said, worrying again. Easy, man, I promised I would take care of you, and I will, Marcus said, smiling. John saw Marcus' smile and he instantly calmed down, peace running over his face.

I saw them very few times after that night. But in hindsight, I think that if our lives had turned out differently, maybe the two of them would be a couple right now. I can't explain it, but there was some special chemistry between those two. It's a real tragedy that the events turned out as they did. Well, well, well, for the white widow, Frankie said, being the first to open the cemetery gate. Slowly, we all started to follow him, with Kenny behind Frankie. Marcus and me behind him and John behind Marcus to close the parade

We didn't have a course to go So we only moved a few inches in a straight line Paying attention to the environment around us as much as possible None of us dared open our mouths We could hear the wind blowing through the trees there And even that warm summer wind felt like the wintry gusts in my nerves I thought that being with my friends would help me Overcome the tension of that place

But their silence only reinforced it. I could expect it from John, but when even the foul-mouthed and adventurous Frankie didn't dare to say one of his typical jokes, it was that something was wrong, really wrong.

As we walked, we could see row after row of graves. None of those names meant anything to us, but seeing so many neglected headstones was terrifying on an existential level. I still couldn't fully grasp the concept of death But there was something bleak about a human body lying so abandoned for the rest of eternity,

with no one to take care of its eternal resting place. The tension in the air was so intense you could cut it with a knife, and I could sense that the rest of the gang thought the same. You know, I've been thinking about something, Kenny said, breaking the silence. I felt my heart skip a beat when my friend opened his mouth, and we all stopped suddenly. The tone of his words didn't help calm me down. He wanted the sound as listless as ever,

but the sound of his voice couldn't mask his broken words. His raspy tone. Kenny was scared. I... I've been thinking about the explanation that Marcus gave us this afternoon, about why the white widow would be here and not in the house where a husband died. It all ends up here.

Kenny, paused for a moment, as if waiting for one of us to ask him what he wanted to say. But no one did. If any of us didn't understand the basics of Kenny's phrase before entering the cemetery, we had learned it the hard way at the moment, as we were walking among the graves where human beings lived. Everything was going to end here. We were going to end here.

The white widow's fiancé had ended there. Everything ends. everywhere, all the time, and nobody comes to see these people. No one except... Her. My mom makes me watch those cheesy movies where there are weddings and two false kiss, and the priest always says till death do them part, and he says it because...

Because death is oblivion, but she cannot forget. What if the reason she attacks people is... Because no one remembers her fiancé, and she can't bear it. Man, come on, don't lie about things like that. You're scaring Johnny, Marga said, in a painful attempt to cover his own fear. Do you think I'm lying? Think for one time, said Kenny, indulging more and more in his panic. Imagine spending all eternity in a hole like this, and absolutely no one remembers you.

See that grave over there? The one with the brown water and the dead flowers? How long do you think that has happened since the last time someone saw him? Kenny, calm down, man, I replied. I'm not calming down, bro, Kenny continued. Can you imagine that for a moment? That is what it means to be dead, that no one remembers you. The white widow is looking for someone who is definitely dead.

We have to get out of in now before she finds us. Can you calm down for a memento? There is no white widow, yelled Marcus. Right, at the moment, we heard a noise coming out of nowhere, and we knew we were wrong. It sounded like an unfamiliar hooting, and flapping of the wind that heralded the arrival of something horrible and devastating. We were silent and still for a few seconds, with a heart on the verge of collapse,

waiting for nothing to happen, pleading that it had only been the product of our collective hysteria. Not even Johnny dared to sob. We were all sunk in fear. Where is my husband? said an unfamiliar voice. It sounded scratchy and choppy As if the water from the stream Had caused her to lose control of a vocal chord

We desperately wanted to deny its existence But we only needed to see our faces to realize That it had been real We were at the mercy of the white widow We needed to run out of there Without saying anything we turned around to escape And that's when we saw her She was dressed entirely in white

with a veil of a wedding dress covering her face and her own dress stained with blood and dirt. She was hunched over, making a turro sounds of pain, and she was much taller than us, despite her curvature. We screamed in horror at the sight of her, unable to do more than fear. I can swear that, in hindsight, the bloody monster was laughing at us under a breath.

The White Widow approached us slightly, and my body knew what to do. I took the golf club and hit her where a knee should have been The widow collapsed And her head slammed into one of the tombstones After falling She remained lying there

Without getting up Where a pool of something that looked like blood began to flow from the back of her neck Little by little We got closer Knowing that we had to see the corpse How could it be otherwise Frankie was the first

A lift the veil of the white widow We saw Jeremy's face, dead and surprised, greeting us from under the veil. You... you killed Jeremy, Kenny whispered, unable to speak out loud. I didn't kill him. You saw her. She was the white widow. She must have done something to... Johnny ran up to me and hit me, but Marcus stopped him. Johnny was crying, and he could only babble over and over incoherently about how I'd kill him. his older brother. The rest of the boys looked at me, mixing their expressions of fear and disbelief. Unable to say anything, I ran out of that place without seeing goodbye. I shoved the

golf club under the bed and fell asleep, hoping it was all the nightmare. It wasn't. When I woke up, the news reported that Jeremy's body had been found in the cemetery wearing the wedding dress from the night before. There were beer cans everywhere, so the police concluded that he was drunk and had broken his head after tripping. No one asked any more questions. When the news ended, someone knocked on my door of my house, and I went to open it. Outside, Kenny was looking at me with huge dark circles under his eyes. Tom, I guess you've seen the news?

I saw it. Didn't they ask you anything? No, we went home a little after you left. Johnny wanted to say it all. He wanted our parents to know what you did, but we thought about that. It's not worth the rest of us ruining our lives over what happened last night. We all slept in our houses, and poor John couldn't hear anything about his brother running away, because of course he was sleeping at Marcus's house. He is, we are dealing with it the best we can.

And Johnny? As good as he can get, but he doesn't want to see you again, or any of us. And I get it, man. I can't look at you, and neither can the boys, not without going back to... We killed someone, Tom. Yeah, Jeremy was an idiot, but he didn't deserve what you did to him, what we did to him. We can't see each other again, man. But the white widow.

Stop saying that, Kenny screamed, more annoyed than ever. There is no white widow. There never was. It was just that idiot Jeremy wanting to play a joke on us. Man, I wish you would show up now. and tell us it was all another cruel prank. Gotta go, Tom. Don't talk to me again, or to any of us.

Kenny left my doorstep, and I can swear, I heard him cry. Years passed, and we never spoke again. But I know what happened to some of them. Johnny committed suicide at 14, leaving a note that his parents refused to make public. Kenny did several crimes, in and out of correctional facilities,

until he died of an overdose. at 22. Frankie entered a strange cult and I never heard from him again. I've no idea what happened to Marcus. I like to believe that he got the psychological help he so badly needed, but I can't be sure. I tried looking for him on all social media to contact him, but he doesn't seem to have any public profile, or at least not with his name. As for me, I've not done so well. I'm only beginning to find my alcoholism since a couple of months ago, and there are days where I'd kill for a drop of beer. Today is one of those days.

The bad thing about memories is that sometimes I don't have to pressure them to come back, but they choose to return to my memory of their own accord, torturing me when I can barely bear my seedy job and decaying life. The worst thing about all of this was having no one to talk to. I tried to talk to my parents a couple of days after the incident, but realized the constant that would continue into my adult life. Grownups don't believe in ghosts. Yes, I know what Kenny told me. I know what I saw under the veil.

And even my psychologist has told me that all the things about the white widow is a defense mechanism that I have to avoid dealing with my guilt for killing Jeremy. But there is something else. something I never told anyone and that you'll be the first people to know that night when I ran home with tears in my eyes unable to calm down I saw

the real white widow she was looking between the graves looking just like Jeremy had wearing that damn dress except she was almost floating through the tombstones with chains binding her ankles I hid behind behind her ankles I hid behind a tree as fast as possible

and held my tears for half an hour until I knew she was gone. When that happened, I almost crawled home, unable to run. All those emotions had exhausted me. This is why I hate ghosts. That damn white widow was the swap bodies with poor Jeremy, bringing him from his room to the graveyard in a split second to suffer a fate. My psychologist wanted to convince me

that the second vision wasn't real, until I ended up dropping therapy for good. I know what I saw. I'm not crazy. And one day, I'll be able to prove to the world that she was the one who ruined my life and murdered Jeremy.