CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "If you find yourself next to a circle of land where nothing grows, don't listen to it" Creepypasta

Episode Date: June 29, 2021

AUTHOR'S SUBREDDIT► https://www.reddit.com/r/HorrorsOfSta...CREEPYPASTA STORY►by R-M-Staniforth: 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►Alex Seijohttps://www.artstation.com/artwork/yk...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 grew up on a small-town ranch in the Midwest region of the United States, on land that has been passed down in my family for generations. It can be brutal out there, with hot dry summers that threaten to suck up every last drop of moisture from you, two unfortunate winters that trap everything outdoors in a deathly freeze. Despite all that, my family worked hard to make sure that our needs were always met, and that the crops survived. mom and pa were two of the hardest working people I've ever known and they were strict to keep the work going

most rules that my mom and pa was strict about was simply a means to survive such as stay indoors when the blizzard is coming staying away from the rocky areas where the rattlesnakes hide always keeping water on you during the summer months etc there was one rule however that stood apart from the rest if we ever so much as considered breaking that rule there'd be hell to pay. That one rule was that we must never, under any circumstances, go anywhere near the land,

where nothing grows. The land where nothing grows was a perfect circle in the southwest corner of the wheat field. The golden fields of Ender's wheat ended abruptly exactly where the circle started, as if the crops were scared to go a single inch over that line. The circle had a circumference of about a hundred feet, with crops growing around it in a perfectly curved line. Recall it the land where nothing grows, because that circle is just that. Nothing ever grows in the circle, not so much as a common weed. Instead, the brown circle consists solely of dried brown dirt, with cracks forming small crevices about.

Now, it may sound like just the dry patch of dirt, but there was something more. than that to the land. The land where nothing grows had an ominous and tantalizing presence about it that raises the hair in the back of your neck. It feels almost as if it somehow stares at you, gloating about its impenetrability or daring you to explore your curiosity. Old wooden fences stood around the land when nothing grows, rotting away, but still holding strands of rusty barbed wire that encircled the land. My granddad had built the fence some decades of go to keep the animals out, and more importantly, to make sure we could still see where the circle was when crops died off and the ground became covered in soft white snow. We were forbidden to go anywhere

near that rickety old fence. Even Parr only got close when it was absolutely necessary. When I was young, I didn't question why we weren't allowed to go near the land. As I grew older, however, I found myself questioning why nothing grew in that circle. I still remember the day I gave in and approached the land where nothing grows. I was 12 years old and had taken on a lot more responsibility for the farm chores than I had in previous years. I could feel a pit somewhere in my stomach as I approached, but I swallowed my fear to satisfy the increasing nag in my mind to understand the circle. I needed to know answers to questions.

I couldn't quite formulate, and something told me that the land where nothing grows could tell me those answers. As I approached, everything else around me seemed to fade. The sound of the breeze fidgeting with the wheat was no longer audible, and complete silence fell around me. It was just me and the circle. Everything else faded into a grey blur in my peripheral. I reached out and touched the fence post. My eyes fixated on the same. center of the circle where the whispers seemed to come from. I didn't hear the whispers, but I could somehow feel the whispers in my mind. Come to me, boy, come to me and understand.

Allow me to show you, young boy, as I reached out to put my hand on the other side of the barbed wire, I was suddenly thrown back into the wheat by a strength that I had not expected. That force pulled me backward by my collar, dragging me through the wheat and soil for several seconds until I was released. As I scrambled to get my boots under me, I looked up to see Parr standing over me. I braced at his stature, expecting a spanking at the very least. Instead, he crouched down in front of me, putting a shaky finger on my face. Look at me, son, he said in his deep, gritty voice.

I looked up at him, looked him right in the eye, ready to own up to my disobedience. Only, the look in past eyes wasn't the look of anger that I had expected. It was much worse. What I saw in his watery brown eyes was the expression of deep-rooted fear, something I had never seen from my father. He paused as he struggled to find words and choked back tears. His hands started shaking worse as his eyes stared into mine and guilt found its way into my soul.

"'Never go near that circle again, son. "'You hear me? "'You stay away from that goddamn fence,' he finally said. "'He grabbed me and pulled me into a tight hug, "'his hand pulling me in by the back of my head. "'The next words he whispered, I'll never forget. "'I almost lost you, boy. "'Everything dies in that god-forsaken land.

"'After that day, I kept even further away from the land "'when nothing grows, "'even as the presence of the land grew more torrentive, with every year I aged. It stared at me, even from a half-mile away. It called to me, alluring me to visit its old rotten fence. One day, when I was 14, a severe windstorm tore through the town. We all bunkered down in fear of a tornado.

I still remember listening to the creeks and groaned to the house as it stood into finds against the winds, and I was scared it would fall over. nonetheless the house stood strong and sometime late in the night the winds subsided I woke the next morning still in my sofa next to my little sister who fell asleep grasping my hand

my dad was quietly putting on his boots by the door come on son he said we got to check the damages I softly set my sister's hand down and after putting a blanket over her I grabbed my boots and hat, following Parr out the door. I went around to the back of the house where an old tree had fallen,

missing the house by no more than a truck's length. As I broke the branches away from the window, which had cracked, but thankfully not shattered, I heard the moan of one of the dairy cows. It wasn't a typical moo you'd hear from a cow, but a moan of pain and desperation. I ran out to follow the desperate cries of the cow. only to quickly realize where she was. She had wondered into the land when nothing grows.

The storm must have knocked over that rickety-offed fence because only half of the post remained standing. Old Diane, a three-year-old cow who had just given birth six months prior, lay inside the circle thrashing about and moaning in agony, unable to get back on her feet. Her enclosure had broken,

spooking the cows every which direction, and that poor girl had walked right into the land when nothing grows. I ran to get my par. I dared not go after Diane, but I knew that par would know what to do. I ran out to the barn where he was already at work patching a hole. As I told him what had happened, I saw sorrow come over his face and a wrinkle creased in his brow.

We hopped in the old pickup and quickly drove to the land. When we got there, Diane's condition had grown up. horrifyingly worse. The flesh looked as though it was rotting off in front of her very eyes, exposing her bones and muscle. Her eyes had glazed and blackened, as she still gave feeble, but excruciating moans for help. Parr wasted no time as he jumped from the truck with his hunting rifle in hand.

He took one knee and quickly found his aim. A single shot rang out across the field as the bullet pierced straight through the old cow's skull. Her head hit the dirt and a painful cry stopped. Complete silence fell and Diane was thankfully out of her misery, having fallen victim to the land when nothing grows. You see, everything dies in the land when nothing grows. Without saying a word, my par got right back in the rusty red farm truck

and we drove straight to the shed to collect new fence posts and barbed wire. That fence wasn't about to rebuild itself, after all. By the time we arrived back to the land, Diane's body was gone, completely vanished. Is that what happens when something enters the circle? I asked Parr. I've only seen it happen a few times myself, Parr said with a stone face as he lit a cigarette. It's different every time, but it's always painful. The only thing that's sure is that everything dies in the land when nothing grows.

I grabbed one of the wooden handled shovels, ready to start digging holes for the new posts, but Parr grabbed the shovel from my hands before I could take a step. Get the hell out of it, son, this is my job, Parr said, with his cigarette hanging from the corner of his lips. I objected, but one stern lock shook me right up, and I set off to make sure the rest of the cows were gathered. I watched him from a ways away though As he built a new fence several feet back from the old one

Every move looked painful I could see as he struggled against some unknown force to keep focus on the job Profusely wiping sweat from his brow Until a newer, stronger fence encircle the land when nothing grows Something changed in my path that day Something I can't quite explain From that day on his face seems more wrinkled his shoulders slightly hunched and his eyes became distant.

Every step he took looked heavier and he smiled less. The next four years were not kind to past mental state. He started forgetting things, not eating as much and smoking a hell of a lot more cigarettes. He'd go to milk the cows even though he'd done it just hours before. One day he even asked us where the hell one other dogs come from, even though we had that dog since it was a pop. I catch him, completely zoned out, and staring out in the distance, out toward the land when nothing grows.

You could talk to him, and it was like he never heard it. We begged and pleaded for him to take a step back from the farm duties and get more daily rest, but the stubborn old man refused to allow us to take any of his responsibilities from him. He insisted that he was just fine, even though we all knew he wasn't. When I was 18, Paa disappeared. We found that old truck near the wheat field with the door open and the engine running,

but he was nowhere to be found. We searched all day, worried that it had an accident or medical emergency, but the search was for nothing. Finally, just as the sunset casts his brilliant orange across the fields illuminating the golden wheat, I noticed his boot prints

walking away from the truck. Those prints lit straight to the land where nothing grows. Everything dies in the land where nothing grows. Even though there was no body to bury, we held a service room at the cemetery mixed to the small white church. I'll never forget when my uncle, my dad's younger brother, grabbed me by the arm. He had those same deep brown eyes than my dad had. You're the man of the house now, son.

You understand? He told me in a tone that was both stern and gentle. But you're going to be right now, you hear me? Your old man taught you right. You all know what to do, son. Eleven years later, I still managed the more family farm. I proudly kept it up just as well as parted. My sister got the hell out of dodge the day she turned 18 and headed to the city.

Hell, I can't blame her for leaving this aging town. I'd be lying if I said it hadn't crossed my mind. a time or two. But somebody had to keep the farm going. As Pah always said, money don't grow on trees. It grows on the wheat fields, but only if you keep growing it.

The order I got, though, the more the land when nothing grows watched me. I still heard it oftentimes, whispering to me about my father. It is as if the circle had grown stronger, more lucrative, more manipulative. One morning, as I was walking by, something caught my attention, something laying in the land when nothing grows.

As I cautiously approached, I could see what it was. An old white cowboy hat sat on the ground just a foot inside the circle. I felt my stomach turn and my heart skip a beat just a pound back seconds later. I'd know that battered and stained hat anywhere. It was Parr's hat that he refused to replace. Always said that the hat was part of him. I trembled to see his old hat out there in the land where nothing grows. I knew I shouldn't, but I had to go get that hat.

As I ducked between the barbed wire, I could hear Parr's voice in those quiet whispers. Come on over here, give you old men a hand, eh? I got to the edge of the circle as silence fell, and my breathed. periphery was blurred. You make me proud, son. Pa, that you? I asked. I know it's irrational, but at that moment I thought that retrieving that old hat would somehow bring my par back to me. I reached out, and the second I touched that hat, darkness encompassed everything around me. Shadows danced in the circle as agonizing screams pierced

my ears, and incredible pain surged through every inch of my insides, as it was a if my heart was being ripped from my chest. That's when I heard him. Pa, his muffled yells, reached me through the relentless screams penetrating my ears. Get the hell out of here, son. Run, boy. I came to my senses, and with every ounce of strength I could muster, I yanked on that hat and ripped myself free from the powerful clutch of the circle. The screams stopped, and the daylight returned.

I did exactly what Paa said and ran away from that god-forsaken circle. I didn't stop until I reached the house when I finally collapsed into Pars-old recliner, still clutching that battered hat. After all these years, I finally lost control over my emotions and let 11 years with a bottle of tears pour out. After what seemed like hours, I finally pulled myself together and headed up the stairs to take a shower. My body ached, my back felt stiff and sore, and my knees popped with a twinge of pain with every step. It wasn't until I looked in the mirror,

that I realized the truth. At first, I was shocked to see Parr staring back at me from the mirror, but I realized seconds later that I wasn't looking at Parr. I was looking at myself. That greying hair atop that wrinkly face in the mirror was mine,

as were the darkening bags underneath my eyes. I looked old and haggard, I don't know how long my hand was inside that circle, nor what exactly it did to me. But I must have aged 20 years in those seconds inside the land where nothing grows. I'm still doing what I can on the farm, but I can feel my mind slipping the same way Paz did. I find myself zoning out into nothingness. My thoughts stuck in the land where nothing grows. By the time I come to my senses, my coffee has gone cold.

the land where nothing grows whispers to me, promising me peace, promising rest and relief from my painful body and slipping mind. Most importantly, it promises that I can see par again. Now, I know that the whispers are lies, but every day they get just a little louder and a little more persistent, and often find myself confused and believing the whispers, even whispering back when I'm, I'm gone. I'm not sure what will come of this land. But if you ever find yourself on the edge of a circle of land when nothing grows, you'd best run and never look back. You see, everything dies in the land when nothing grows.