CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "I paid a visit to an abandoned penitentiary" Creepypasta

Episode Date: July 30, 2020

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by Jgrupe: 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...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-

I was a child of about eight years old when we went to visit the Pilsenburg prison, so you would think my recollections of that day would be hazy. But they were burned into my memory permanently, like a scar on my mind that will never heal. The old penitentiary was a well-known tourist trap I would find out later in life. I did a lot of research after what happened. I'm sure you would too. It turned out a few other people had been.

paranormal experiences there, although no one else ever went missing. I found a few webpages dedicated to the old prison, describing it as haunted. The giant fortress-like building was made of greystone, mined from a nearby quarry about 150 years prior. My family had distant relatives visiting from Europe, and we had run out of standard touristy crap to do, so we had gone a bit off the beaten path and chosen to take a visit to the oldest penitentiary in the country, which was only a couple hours away. My dad's cousin stayed at home, saying he was tired and to go without him, but his son, Gunter, decided he would come along.

Gunter was a year older than I was at the time, and a precocious little brat. He would ask pointed questions in his perfect English, not a trace of German accent to be found, and then would have the nerve to second guess you and correct you when you gave him the answer. He was a mouthy little know-it-all, and I was looking forward to having him out of my bedroom. He had taken over my bed, and I had been forced to sleep on the hard wooden floor, a victim of my parents' politeness. The tour started outside in the courtyard where the prisoners had exercised.

The guide pointed out features here and there as a dozen of a son. us unlucky souls trail lackadaisedly behind him. The giant building loomed over us, dark and foreboding, blocking out the sun and leaving us chilly in the morning air. I didn't want to go inside, I had already realised, but my parents are walking towards the entrance, leaving me behind. Gunter was up front with the tour guide, prodding him and repeating questions and correcting him whenever he made a minor error, pointing at the brochure in his hands.

I hurried and followed them inside, trying to ignore the feelings of dread as the dark entryway swallowed me up like a gaping moor of a grey stone giant. When we got inside, we went through several sets of steel bar cages. The guide explained, these were screening points for new prisoners. His descriptions were vivid and I felt like I could hear and see the images he described of terrified prisoners being heckering. by the guards and other inmates as they were marched in, shivering naked as the day they were born, hosed down and cavity searched.

My mom covered my ears at this little detail and I swatted her hands away. As we continued along, I heard the tour guide make a snappy remark at Gunter. Why did you lead the tour, you little smart ass? Or something along those lines.

He walked back to us, looking momentarily dejected. Then he quickly remembered he could annoy me as well and perked up again. Did you know the prisoners here had to work on chain gangs? Do you know what chain gangs are, Jason? He pointed at the brochure and poked me in the ribs. I said, of course I knew what chain gangs were.

Regardless, he spent the next ten minutes explaining what they were to me, speaking loudly over the frustrated objections of the tour guide. We continued on into an old cell block. The guide explained, how the prisoners would line up for inspection. Their shoes expected to be polished to a mirror shine. He explained how new prisoners would be hazed. Their shoes scuffed while they slept by their bunkmate,

so that they would fail the morning inspection. No excuses would be tolerated, and they would be confined to the cell for the remainder of the day. It was no wonder cellmate murders and suicides had reached record levels there. We went down some stairs and into the lower levels, where we were told the cafeteria was located. I had an image of food and my stomach rumbled.

I licked my lips and realised my throat was dry as well. A drink would be nice, I thought. But the guide went on to explain how no food or beverages was served on the premises any longer, but this was simply an old cafeteria used by prisoners. I grumbled something to my dad about how hungry I was and he said he would get me something to eat in an hour or two after we left the prison.

Gunter stopped me for a moment. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me back, away from the group. He said he had brought a few snacks along. I was suddenly warming up to my distant relative, I thought. He bowled out some German gummy bears and poured a few into my hands. We chewed them and looked around at our surroundings. The talk guide's voice got quiet, and quieter as we were left behind.

I wasn't worried at the time, thinking we would just run and catch up to them in a minute. Gunter started preckling on about something again and I started getting anxious. He wouldn't shut up and ignore my body language saying I wanted to move along. Finally, he finished what he was saying and I dragged him down the hallway.

He seemed to take pleasure in my annoyance and I began to dislike him again immediately. He dragged his feet as I pulled him along, stopping and pointing out mundane things to purposely bother me further. I furrowed my brow, thinking it was odd I could no longer hear the group up ahead. We turned the corner and I was surprised to note the scent of coffee and porridge wafting through the air. Odd, I thought, since the tour guide had said they no longer served food there.

I heard voices from a doorway to the right, up ahead. It sounded like a crowd of hundreds of people. Their voices are low-pitched buzz. We walked up to the doorway, and I stopped immediately. Gunter bumped into me and spilled a few of his gummy bears. He punched me in the arm, but I didn't even feel it. He turned and looked as well, and dropped the whole bag of candy on the floor, spilling the colourful little bear bodies everywhere.

Both of us stood in the doorway in complete shock. The room ahead of us was full of hundreds of prisoners. Their black and white striped uniforms were all identical. Their heads were shaved and their bodies packed shoulder to shoulder at the long tables where they sat eating gummy-looking porridge and black coffee. To one side of the room a long line of prisoners were lined up, shuffling tray's longer serving line, getting spoonfuls of slop ladled into their bowls

by unsympathetic men dressed in white. Gunter began to walk through the doorway, as if in a daze. I got a bad feeling, watching him. It was as if I could sense that his walking through that threshold was a crossing over, and I knew then that he should not cross over. I chased after him, grabbing his wrist.

He was bigger than me though He looked back at me with a mischievous grin and pulled me through laughing It felt immediately different on the other side of the doorway The voices of the prisoners rose to a deafening roar And the smells became definite and real I can now detect the burnt undertones of the coffee And the sweat and body odour of the many prisoners who stood all around us I looked up and saw a big man with broad shoulders and a crooked smile.

His bald head gleamed and I saw he was missing several teeth. He looked like a very bad man. He grabbed me by the bicep and the fingers dug in painfully. I tried to call out but he covered my mouth, looking around quickly. He pulled me out of the big room with little effort, my feet dragging over the stone floor. I looked over and saw Gunter had been grabbed by a couple other prisoners who held him tight and covered his mouth. His eyes were wide and afraid. They dragged us through another doorway and into a cell block.

No one was around and it seemed like everyone was preoccupied with breakfast in the big cafeteria. There were four of them and they pulled us into a cell with hungry looks in their eyes. The man with the missing teeth pulled out a cruelly made shank and held it up to Gunter's neck. neck. He was struggling the hardest since it was bigger, and they decided to deal with him first. What the hell are we doing, Charlie? The one prisoner said to the man with the missing teeth. These are kids. How did they even get in here? Charlie backhanded the other man and sent him reeling. He staggered back and turned his face against the wall, rubbing his red and cheek. If Johnny and keen enough to see the upside here, I don't know what to tell you, gent.

The man with the missing teeth said, digging the blade in deeper. But I can tell you exactly what we're going to do. We're going to use these lads as bargaining chips. They're going to be our ticket out of here. The other two men looked at him dubiously. They bickered back and forth and a bit redundantly agreed to give it a shot. They were all sentenced to life, so they saw no downside from what I could over here. The man with a missing teeth became a bit distracted by the conversation,

and his blade drifted further and further from Gunter's neck. His hand crept closer to his mouth inadvertently. Suddenly, Gunter twisted his head and bit down hard on Charlie's hand. He screamed in pain and dropped the knife. Gunter thrashed and wiggled his head, his mouth filling with blood as his teeth dug deeper and deeper into the man's hand. The other three men, grabbed my distant cousin and held him down as he kicked and wailed.

They covered his mouth and made a hasty gag out of a pillowcase. I saw Charlie nursing his wounds and made the mistake of looking him in the eyes. He caught me looking and his stare burnt into me like the sun. He was going to teach us a lesson, he said. Gunter was crying as he was held down and restrained painfully. They forced him to watch as Charlie. picked up the dirty shank from the floor and walked over to me. He told me this is how it works here.

If one man's shoes are scuffed, the bunkmate had to spend the whole day in the cell with him too, into mutual punishment, but worth it to show a new prisoner his place. They were going to show us at our place, he said. He took the dirty shank, and I watched, horrified, as they held out my hand and extended it.

my fingers. The missing tooth man began to soar away with a blunt and filthy blade, making slow progress as he hacked off my pinky finger. It was slow work with a crude instrument. He finally reached bone and it took another few minutes to get through that. I passed out from the pain at least once, probably more. When that finger was fully removed, he moved over to the other side and did the same thing there. The blade became blunter as he worked, and I screamed and screamed through the hands which muffled my voice. The man behind me twisted my neck painfully with every sound I made and choked me with his forearm around my neck. With both my smallest fingers removed, the man walked over to Cunter.

He waved the fingers in his face, and the blood flew and splattered on him. Hey, look at what you did. This be your fault, you little swine. the man said and threw the severed fingers at Gunter's face he took the blunt blade and plunged it into Gunter's belly blood splurtered into the air and all over the stone floor as he removed the blade

and reinserted it several more times slowly and methodically his friends began to look around anxiously and I wondered how much more time was left before prisoners and guards began to return from the meal Gunter collapsed to the valve floor with a loud thud, his head crashing against the steel bars of the caged door. The men kneeled over him for a second, checking to make sure he was still alive, and I sensed my chance.

It would probably be my only opportunity to escape, so I went for it. I curled my bloody hands into eight-fingered fists and punched Charlie square in the biscuits. He went down to his knees and clutched himself. cursing me and screaming. By the time the other men had turned around though, I was already running past them. My small size worked my advantage and I managed to duck past their reaching hands

as they tried to grab me. I sprinted from the cell back down towards the cafeteria, blood pouring from the places where my fingers used to be. I got back to the cafeteria and saw prisoners were beginning to file out. Several of them saw me and gave surprised looks,

pointing and exclaiming. The old slang they used sounded a hundred years old and I didn't understand half of what they were saying. I ran past the crowd and managed to get back to the open door. The portal we had come through that had somehow transported us back a century or more. It shimmered and looked glassy and surreal. I started to step through it and stopped,

not of my own volition. The hand that grouted me belonged to a guard I saw. His blue uniform was neatly pressed, the brass buttons and his vest gleaming. His grip was iron on my arm. How'd the trolley, laddie. You're you stealing for this scullery.

Is that it? I can't let you let's see quick. He began to pull me away from the door, and my feet dragged on the stone floor as I wailed and hollered. Ah, we know how you managed to get in here, Ben. Do you hope parents we in? Are you an orphan or just nidgett?

He looked down at my hands and finally noticed my fingers. Bugger, there's a fear injury. What happened to your fingers, Wien? I tried to tell him I just needed to go through the doorway, just to take me to the doorway. But he wouldn't listen. Panicking, I kicked him in the shin. His grip stayed firm and his eyes turned cold.

You wee bass, I'll murder for that, he said, and pulled out the club from his holster at his waist. He swung it at me and hit me in the knee I felt it shatter and collapsed to the ground instantly I looked up at him and saw he was saying something about how I deserved it That was when Charlie came up behind him He took the dull knife and made a quick red line

Appear across the guard's throat The man dropped his club and clutched his neck Blood pouring out from the gaps between his fingers I tried to crawl away but looked back and saw the gap-toothed man standing over me. His broad face was red and full of fury. He plunged the shank down into my leg. Pain flared up all anew and my adrenaline kicked into overdrive.

My pituitary gland tried desperately to drown out the pain with endorphins, but was only partially successful. Several prisoners grabbed Charlie from behind suddenly, cursing at him, saying that no one should hurt a kid. I couldn't believe it They were going to save me I crawled away from them Dragging my shattered knee behind me

And my other leg with a stab wound as well My unfortunate finger stumps left pools of blood on the grey stone As I pull myself towards the shimmering doorway ahead I finally reached it And pulled myself through to the other side It was a while before anyone found me And

They never found Gunther I tried to tell them what had happened, but no one believed me. The story is pretty far-fetched I know. Time travelling is generally considered by most to be impossible. I guess I'm no longer most people. Everyone told me I was lying and needed to start being truthful. To this day, most of my family will no longer talk to me, except for my parents. but this is all the truth.

I mean, why would I shatter my own kneecap, cut off both my pinky fingers, and plunge a blunt, homemade knife into my own leg? Unless I was completely bonkers, I would never do that. Am I completely bonkers? Maybe Gunter is still alive, somewhere, back in the 19th century. I don't really know what to think or what to hope. If he is still back there, maybe we really screwed things up.

Time space continuum and all that jazz. I'm a little worried about that too. There's a vase in the corner of my living room. I just filled it with water, but I don't know why I bothered. Are sunflowers supposed to float?