CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "I'm a Park Ranger, I Never Should have Patrolled on New Years" Creepypasta

Episode Date: April 3, 2021

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by archie_sunshine: 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►Sebastian Diaconu: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/lV...​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-

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That is Shopify point B.E. I've always loved the There's nothing quite like it, being in nature, the green and brown foliage, the skipping rivers and streams, the bird calls and winds in the trees. A beautiful world, alive with animals and plants, majesty around every corner, from the smallest sprout to the tallest mountainous peaks. The whole forest is one community in a way, tree roots like hands holding each other beneath the soil, sharing memories unspoken. Ah, sorry, I got a little carried away.

I'm rather passionate about nature. Since I was a kid at church camp, and I went hiking for the very first time, I found myself a total outdoors nut. And, earlier last year, I finally got my dream job. A park ranger position at the biggest national park in Ontario, Pocassau National Park, working at the northernmost HQ. When the virus hit, it was hard for all of us. The park ended up closing to visitors.

Luckily, I kept my job. I ended up staying at the HQ for the first portion of lockdown with a few colleagues. Normally, national parks closed the visitors for the winter, which obviously makes sense. It's the most dangerous time of year for hikers and campers. Quarantine kept us closed the entire year, so it wasn't anything new. Pucasaw is no different in terms of its closing policy, but it was different in the sense that some of us rangers ended up having to stay at the HQ over the winter. There was no fear of fire, obviously.

We were shaping up for a frigid and snowy winter. But, as I was confused about the reason, my co-workers didn't raise a fuss. They knew exactly what we were in for. I asked Chris what was going on, and he looked at me with an expression like, You don't know? Don't sweat it, Max. There's nothing to worry about. In the past, we've had people jump the fence to getting during the off-season,

so other management just wants us to keep an eye out. to make sure nobody gets in and gets themselves out, he assured me. I felt comforted by the sentiment, figuring it would be a piece of cake. The only issue is that... I know this seems contradictory to my previous statement about nature, but I felt an uneasiness about the whole situation. Laugh at me all you want, but I've always had a sort of paranoia about winter. It's by far the most dangerous time to be outside,

especially in a place like the forest. In the spring you fear the rain, being drenched and catching a chill. In the summer and early autumn you fear wildfires and in all three seasons you fear the animals. But in winter, the cold alone is enough to kill you, being caught in a blizzard or even just spending the night with no shelter. The thick layer of snow hides everything.

One wrong step could send you falling into a frozen lake or a tree well. The animals are less of a fear. The bears are asleep in the caves and the wolves won't ever get close. With that only makes the place even more frightening to me. In winter, the forest doesn't feel like a forest. The trees have shed their leaves and the animals are hidden away. It's deathly quiet out there. Everything is muffled.

The loneliness itches at you when you're out that far. The days feel like open mouths. It's only as the sun dips below the horizon. that you truly see the teeth around you. I remember being young and asking my pastor why God would ever make winter, if it was so difficult for anything to survive in it. I didn't get a straight answer from him. But I digress.

You understand what I'm getting at now. Suffice to say, I had my anxieties about spending the winter so close to the woods. I recall every morning waking up in my room, and although the presence of five other people in the HQ with me brought me comfort, feeling uneasy. I would get dressed in the morning, enjoy a meal cooked by Priya, around a table with my friends, lace up my boots and zip up my coat, and then it would be time for work. I felt childish for it, but I would deviate from my path of patrol frequently to seek out my fellow rangers, sometimes to approach them and talk, but other times just to see them through the trees.

knowing they were out there brought me peace. December was drawing to a close. It was Christmas Day at the H-Q. We didn't all celebrate Christmas. Quinn is Jewish. Priya is Muslim. And Christopher and Bree are both atheist. But we still decided to do a gift exchange.

It wasn't anything too fancy. Just some trinkets to make the place feel more at home. We'd grown close to each other over quarantine. It only felt right. Being inside on that day, sitting around the wood-burning stove and giving each other our gifts felt. Right. We were in the midst of dinner when things went awry. The thud at the door caused me to jump.

It was so out of nowhere that for the first few moments we didn't even move, just looked around at each other in confusion. It was Thomas who got up to check. We heard him swear at the door. That got us to move. and the front step was a stag's head. The bloody stump was dry, but its fur was stained with the rusty brown,

eyes milky white and vacant. We'd all seen dead animals before, but we knew there was something wrong. I looked around at the others, but they all had knowing looks on their faces, albeit annoyed ones. Chris was the first to speak. It was probably a prank,

someone might be out there in the woods, he said. The others nodded. We should pair up and sweep the front entrance. They can't have gotten far. Everyone began getting dressed for the outside. I looked over my shoulder, longingly, at our abandoned Christmas dinner. But I didn't complain, not wanting to seem selfish. Someone could be hurt out there.

Even if they had prank us so cruelly like this, I didn't want to think I might indirectly be the cause of someone's death via frostbite. I got to walk with Quinn, luckily. He's been around here longer than most of us, second only to Christopher, about six years under his belt. We were walking down the trails rather than in the bush, the white beam of the flashlight making the fresh snow glimmer as we plodded through the thick layer of powder.

We made small talk, quipping about the dinner, the presents we'd gotten from our co-workers and our family members in the mail, and the deer head. It got quiet for a moment. moment, the only sound of the snow under our feet and the wind whistling through the pines. And then Quinn turned to me. Hey, Max?

He asked, Hmm? Did anyone tell you about the year walk? I shook my head, giving him a confused look and slowing my pace. He sighed quietly and slowed down with me, muttering in annoyance that no one had told me yet. Yeah, I thought so. You seem confused from the bar. let us know we'd be staying over the winter.

What is it? I asked. He pursed his lips, trying to think of a way to explain it. It's an old Swedish tradition that happens around this time of year. People spend New Year's night walking through the forest until sunrise. Apparently, they think, if they do it, they'll be given a prophecy about the coming year from a goat spirit, or whatever. I cocked my head, slowing to a stop. Okay, what's so important?

important about it. From what I hear, it's come back into style in some circles, he chuckled dryly. Last year, some people jumped the fence into the reserve to do a year walk. They were half frozen to death when we found them. Luckily, they survived, but, you know, they... He trailed off, as if he had more he wanted to say, but then he shook his head. Upper management doesn't want to risk it happening again, so they told us to stick around over winter. We'll all get a bonus for it though

So that's a plus, eh? He patted me on the back And I mustered up a weak laugh Even though their feeling of an ease Just continued to grow The whole tradition reads as something demonic Something my parents would have clasped their hands over my ears

To keep me from hearing It's intriguing But I don't let the thought of it linger with me As Quinn changes the subject We didn't end up finding anything neither did anyone else, except for Thomas and Bree. They found the deer's body in the snow, slumped against a tree stump and frozen, with footprints all around the clearing and leading off into the woods. That night I could hardly sleep.

It wasn't about the deer, it was about the year walk. And it wasn't about those footsteps. It was about what I knew I'd have to do, patrolling the woods at night in the day. the dead of winter. I don't know why it was frightening me that much. It shouldn't have been a big deal. It would be just like any other night patrol I'd taken, only in the middle of winter. The idea of it made me feel queasy. I don't know if it's a true phobia. I know it's a rational. It's just a regular occurrence, a normal portion of the year, and yet I couldn't will myself to sleep. It was in the wee hours of the morning

I still couldn't get any rest even though I couldn't sleep I just laid there in bed staring up at the ceiling and tracing the wood grain with my eyes I was shocked out of my trance by the sound of crunching snow and ringing bells outside

I sat up in bed shuffling to the edge of the bed and looking out the window nobody there the wind continued to whistle in the trees and the forest was silent. Slowly, getting to my feet, I wandered over to the window

and peered around. The crunching sound was quieter then, peering off to my right. When I looked down, there were footprints in the snow under my window. I threw open the window and stuck my head out,

looking out to where the crunching was headed. And there was nothing there. That didn't exactly help my predicament. It only highlighted. my fears and added a dark, unknown void to my paranoid, anxious thoughts. In the morning, I woke up and put on my clothes, ate cereal for breakfast and chatted with Bree and Quinn, before we all put on our snow gear and got ready for our first patrol of the day. By the time we went outside, there had been snowfall, washing away all

evidence of the footprints outside my window. I tried to keep my mind off of it. We walked on our own during the day. It's bright enough that we can see each other pretty easily and we have walkie-talkies if anything goes wrong. I felt like I was being watched that day, but I couldn't place what I was being watched by. The day passed without incident and so did the day after that and the one after. Just three days until New Year's and my anxiety continued to mount up. I asked Christopher if I could stay in and file our incident reports. let me spend one day inside, thank God. But when they were out in the woods doing patrols,

I could hear the crunch of snow and ringing of bells again, circling around HQ. It happened again the day after, when I was lagging behind to wash the dishes after everyone had left. It happened each night too, walking around and around. I was sure I was just hallucinating, or my mind was playing tricks on me.

But, despite myself, I couldn't show. that feeling of dread. I prayed for the first time in years that night, clasping my hands together and quaking in my bed, praying I catch a cold or break a leg, anything for an excuse not to patrol that night. On the morning of December 31st, I woke up an hour ahead of schedule. I crawled out of bed and wandered to the bathroom in my pajamas, splashing water on my face. My head hurt so badly. my knees buckled under me and I wrapped my arms around the edge of the toilet

I try not the look at my vomit eyes squeezed shut and stomach lurching as I lost last night's dinner into the bowl my anxiety had reached this peak even breathing turned into gasping wheezing hyperventilation hysteric sobs escaping my choked throat I pressed my hand over my mouth

digging my fingers in to keep anyone from hearing the bathroom felt more like a confession booth claustrophobic and closing enemy. Judgment from the other side of the door, even though I knew nobody else was awake. I put on my clothes. I had no appetite for breakfast, and when everyone woke up,

I acted as though nothing was wrong. I kept up my chipper attitude. I picked up at my lunch, I filed more incident reports. And nighttime finally came. The snow was thick and cold. I could see all of the stars in the sky, The patrol began according to plan. I was paired up with Bree.

We talked, but I wasn't much for a conversation. I was too busy letting my fear get the best of me, my eyes darting around and my hands shaking under my mittens. I couldn't bring myself to look at Bree, fearing that she wouldn't notice the fear in my expression. After a while, the conversation petered off and we were walking in silence, sweeping our flashlights around to the trees.

After a long while of silence, I cleared my throat and looked to. Bree. Bree. Brie wasn't there. I spun around in a circle. Bree wasn't there. She had just been there, just a few feet behind me, but... I looked around again. Everything looked different.

I'd walked this patrol path dozens of times over and over, but nothing looked right. The trees were all wrong. stretching up high into the night sky. There was no sound, just the crunch of footsteps and the whistle of the wind. I could feel my heart rate picking up. I could feel my breathing begin to quiver and rattle in my throat.

And then, my flashlight fizzled out, and I started to shake. I fumbled my walkie-to-ky off my hip and turned it to the right frequency. This is Maxwell, asking for backup. Is anyone there? I stammered into the receiver,

voice cracking pathetically. All I got in response was a garbled static sound, no matter what I did. I repeated my message over and over until my voice had dissolved into babbling whispers and I fell to my knees in the snow. There was no response, just a superlative fear and loneliness

that hit me like an oncoming train. I curled into a ball, hyperventilating and crying into my knees as cold crept in on me. My jacket kept me safe, but still I could feel the cold in my face. I don't know how long I stayed there, paralyzed with fear and unable to move an inch,

just praying to a God that I knew couldn't hear me to let it all be a terrible nightmare. I heard a sound then. Ahead of me, the crunching of snow. I looked up. In the path ahead, I could see a figure walking away from me. I was up on my feet and running after it in an instant. I called out my voice still hoarse and roar from crying,

yelling for them to stop and wait. They just kept walking. Even with their slow pace, I just couldn't seem to catch up. My hope made me reckless. I didn't notice the route in front of me, and I stumbled forwards, falling face down into the snow. When I looked up, the figure was gone. I shakily got to my knees in the snow.

and stared forwards if looking long enough would make it come back. I could hear ringing behind me, but I couldn't bring myself to turn around and look. The two of them walked past me. Two women wearing traditional-looking scandinavian dresses and white veils. In one hand they carried a swaddled blanket drenched red in blood, and in the other, a bell ringing with each step. They left a bloody red trail in the wake, droplets of blood in the snow floor. from there. Children. They spoke blankly, without any tone, speaking in a language I couldn't understand.

I felt sick. I felt my hands grow sweaty and my throat closed up. I followed them. I got to my feet and trudged after them, unable to cry anymore. There was a riverhead, rushing across the path and splitting it in two. I kept walking. The two women were walk to the river edge and let their children fall to the ground, blankets falling open, full of nothing but bones much. I started hearing other people walking in the woods, taking their own paths, all converging on one point. I didn't run towards them, no matter how much I wanted to. I couldn't bring myself to change course. It was a trance, I know that now, but I didn't understand then. In the middle of the clearing

There was a monument It wasn't supposed to be there Nothing was supposed to be in the woods There should have been nothing there at all But it was A pillar of wood with a staghead on top A spike through the school to keep it in place At its base was the body the head had belonged to

Split open to expose its innards Steam still rose off it It was fresh still warm There were others in the clearing, all standing at the ends of their own pathways, staring up at the monument with adoration. The deer's head's mouth gaped open, tongue hanging out and eyes rolling up to show whites. He began to speak without its lips moving, in that language I still didn't understand. It groaned out in joyous suffering, its blood trebling down the pillar in beads. I didn't understand.

But the others there did. They scrambled forwards through the snow, dropping to the ground in front of the body of the deer, and pulling fistfuls of gore and bloody guts out of the animal's body with wet tearing sounds. I felt sick. I felt terrified. I felt so hungry.

I sank to my knees in front of the body and reached forwards. The parts were indistinguishable from each other, mashed together and disgusting. Tears streamed on my cheeks, as I shoved pieces of raw deer flesh into my mouth, metallic and chewy and textured in a way that made me want to vomit. But I kept eating. Why was this happening to me?

What was I doing there? I sobbed into bloody handfuls of venison, leaning down and beginning to tear at it with my teeth, licking the blood off my lips. If there was a god to hear my screams for help, it was cruel enough to turn away. Shame and guilt. fear rolled around in my stomach, and the moon shone down on me like a spotlight at its highest

point. The world shrank around me until nothing but the body of the deer and the monumental reel. I leaned back, blood drenching my face and hands in front, staring up at the deerhead as it stared back at me. It spoke again. I didn't understand. I couldn't understand. I kept eating even as I cried. cried. Lightheadedness set in. I staggered to my feet and stumbled away from the clearing, weeping openly and staring at my bloody hands. What have I done? What's happened to me? I'm a monster. I couldn't run, just stumbled away as much as I could, tears and mucus mingling with the blood that coated my face. I fell to the ground and sobbed into the snow. I covered my ears

when I heard people screaming from the clearing behind me and curled into a ball to hide, when they ran past me in their new forms, hooves leaving bloody marks in the snow. I splayed out where I laid, and even the silence that fell over the forest was deafening, ringing in my ears. I could hear everything I couldn't before. I could feel the cold forest pumping and beating as one,

screaming as one, truly living, breathing being, despite the snow cover. A being that would consume my body to support it, just as I had to the body of that deer, Oh God I couldn't be a god This breathing A morvis being was God

A frantic and hungry god A spiteful, an ancient god It was everything And I was part of it Oh God I must have passed out When I woke up I was laying on the trail

I'd been on with Bree And Priya was shaking me awake She looked terrified And I didn't understand why at first Until I noticed the blood all over me. It was real then. Priya helped me to my feet and I leaned against her heavily on the way back to H.Q.

They asked me what happened and I told them I couldn't remember anything. It was so worried for me, but they didn't seem surprised at the outcome. I think I was just like those people from the year before when they found me. I'm getting a few weeks off. I can't return home. Ontario is unlocked down again. I spend most of my time in HQ, and the others try to console me.

It makes me happy to know they care, but nothing feels right anymore. I can't walk in the cold woods anymore. I can hear the trees moaning hungrily when nobody else can, and I'm one of the lucky ones. When I look out the window to the tree line, I can see the deer with human eyes, pacing and drooling red,

jealous that I was spared when they weren't, even when I never wanted this gift. And when I sleep, I can feel the forest itself, breathing, more alive than it's ever been.