CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "Missing Persons: The Cottage" Creepypasta

Episode Date: June 1, 2020

AUTHOR'S SUBREDDIT► https://www.reddit.com/r/MikeRich15/CREEPYPASTA STORY►by mikerich15: 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-

Missing Person's Case File, number 936-3446. Audio transcript of hypnotherapy session. I can only describe what happened. I don't know if I can tell you what happened. You get it? When the snow starts the fall, we go up north to the cottage. The usual crowd is coming. Three couples, two others.

I'm in the other column. Me and Marcus Stover, Stoveman. Called him that since we were kids. He's the third generation of men who sell wood-burning stoves to the cottages up north, so, Stoveman. Stoveman and his family do really well. The cottage could fit twenty people comfortably, but I pack the tents anyway. If the temperature holds, stoveman and I will tent outside.

It better hold. I can't be inside. Don't want to be inside. Reminds me... ...of her. Darrell and Joanna, DJ, are already waiting, the two of them hugging and leaning against their hatchback, when Stoveman and I park at the end of the long gravel driveway. DJ, because they're practically inseparable.

Ten years together and still attached to each other wherever they go. Darrell is annoyingly handsome. The type of tall, beefy jock, you hate him immediately when you meet him, but then love five minutes later, fiercely loyal, and once you get him rolling with laugh, it's hard not to join in. He's got one of those high-pitched giggles and he laughs at almost anything. Joanna, the J of DJ, is short,

muscle-toned and whip-smart. She eyes me carefully. I'm trying to hold it together, but everything around here reeks of her. Literally. I smell it when I step out of the car. Pine. The towering evergreens dominate the thick forest we're in

and I do what I can not to look at them. Darrell comes in for the hug, as he always does, while Joanna simply nods and extends a hand. She's still the only woman I know whose handshake crushes yours, no matter how hard you go in. She throws me a casual smirk when I try, unsuccessfully, to hide the tingling pain in my hand after she lets go. After the greetings are done, we all turn to stare up at the cottage.

The front door is at the end of a long, narrow, 100 meter long pathway that can only be traversed on foot. As the dense forest creeps in on both sides, the front door is at the end of a long, narrow, 100 meter long pathway that can only be traversed on foot as the dense forest creeps in on both sides. The cottage itself sits embedded into a massive, man-made grass hill, so the basement is really on the ground.

The main floor has a deck that faces the small lake that sits tucked between the trees. We have all been coming here every winter for almost 15 years But something about the way the cottage sits In the middle of this encroaching thick sea of trees Makes me realise how alone we are up here No one around for miles Even the newly erect cell tower

Does little to penetrate the canopy of evergreens Usually the isolation and privacy is a comfort Usually Paul and Alan are next to arrive Paul's a military man from a military family A military man That's the extent of what we know about Paul And what he actually does every day

We just don't ask anymore Because the answer is always the same A simple shrug of the shoulder A sly smile from the corner of his mouth He's always watchful analysing everything you do Everything you say Don't ever play poker with Paul

Alan's nice enough, but we barely know anything about him. He's the kind of man you lose at a party within five minutes. But he's Paul's, so he's ours too. When Paul steps out of the car, we all tackle him, yelling and cheering and hugging and showboating because we all know how much Paul hates that kind of thing. I can practically feel his displeasure at the show of emotion, but I don't care. We're lucky if we get to the... see Paul once a year. It doesn't matter what kind of person he is to the military. To me,

he'll always be the kid who pulled me off the ground in grade school after Joseph Minson, the resident hot head, threw a shoulder into my back. There's six of us now, standing in the driveway, front door to the cottage beckoning 100 meters away, but none of us go towards it yet. We all know what's ahead of us, which is a weight. Probably a long long wait. Brian and Cheryl are next. But they're always late. Always. They arrive 20 to 30 minutes after whatever time you tell them to meet at. We pull some money together to guess the exact minute their headlights will dot the horizon. My guess is the closest when they arrive. And now I got a fat stack of cash to barter when poker rolls around. Hopefully Paul goes to

bed early enough that we can get a game in before the sun comes up. Seriously, never play poker with Paul. Stoveman and I have another bet going on the side, trying to guess the date that Brian and Cheryl will finally break up. We love them both, but separately. Together, they create an unbearable tension that builds throughout the night, only to predictably blow up when Brian finally annoys Cheryl for the last time. Brian. Quiet, stoic Brian is the polar opposite of the life of the party Cheryl.

I tell you, opposites attract, but I have yet to see opposites last. Eight of us now. Finally a full party. I grab a couple bags from the car. DJ are locked in a vomit-inducing embrace. Paul is staring out into the forest, Alan behind him, while Brian and Cheryl are not so silently having a whisper fight as they pull bags out to the back of their pickup truck. Stoveman makes a long walk

up to the cottage and opens the front door, walks inside, and starts turning on lights, opening up windows. Everyone but me follows behind with bags in their hands. I'm still at the car, struggling to maneuver the tent bag out. I'm hoping to set up before the darkness arrives.

I open the back seat and reach inside when Stoveman comes back. I hear the crunch of gravel as he stops behind me. He's got off or cologne practically knocking me out. Give me a hand. He doesn't answer,

but he chuckles softly. What's so funny? I turn around, and there's no one there. I mean no one. I feel my insides plummet, turn to ice. I run around the car,

hoping to see him hiding on the other side. I call out. for him. No answer. Then I see him on the deck, at the cottage, a hundred metres away. Impossible. I don't know how he did it, but Stoverman's always been good at pranks. That had to be it. I laughed to myself. Try to brush that cold feeling away. Nice one, I scream up at him. He simply waves. Dinner the first night. Spaghetti. a whole heap of it. I tried not to feel sick

when I see how much Brian is putting away. He's always been on the heavier side. But you'd never say that to his face. He was a wrestler and boxer in college. If our friends ever had to fight to the death, Paul and Brian would be the last two standing. There's probably 15 different ways Paul knows how to kill someone with just his hands.

But Brian and his ham-sized fists could smash a face in like a round. rotting pumpkin that's been thrown off a roof. DJ are actually sharing a strand of spaghetti Lady in the Tramp style, and we all grown in unison. When their lips meet, Darrell starts getting with a giggling, and soon we're all in on it. Even Alan is laughing, which is the first time I can say

that's happened since I've met him. When he gets up to go to the bathroom, I mention it to Paul, who gives me a weird luck. Alan's downstairs, he says. in bed he says doesn't feel well he says I jump out of my seat literally jump and run to the bathroom yank open the door

of course there's no one inside the small window has been open slightly and I can hear a howling wind tearing through the trees I try and suppress the shiver that crawls up my back what the hell Stofferman asks when I come back He sees the look of my face and shuts up. The two of us clear the dishes while DJ go to pick the game we'll play tonight.

Paul goes downstairs to check on Alan. In a whisper, Stoveman asks me what's wrong. What the hell do I tell him? In the end, I say nothing. DJ comes back with scattergories. Great, I think. I'm mentally placing bets and how long it will take Brian and Cheryl to argue. about whether an answer is acceptable.

Stoveman reads my mind and flashes his hands out twice, indicating 20 minutes. I mouth, you're on, and flashed my hands once. 10 minutes. Cheryl's on a third glass of wine now.

The decibel level of her voice rises exponentially with each alcoholic drink. Five drinks and she'll start challenging people to slap fights. Seven drinks and she's out on the couch for the rest of the night. DJ started to tickle each other, and that's my cue to leave.

Paul comes back up and is on the deck, looking up at a full moon. The pale light casts the long dark shadow of Paul on the deckboards. Alan must be feeling better because he's standing beside Paul. The two of them are talking intently about something they don't want anyone else to hear, because when I slide the patio door open, they cut off mid-conversation. I catch the tail end of it though and I'm not really sure how to process it I need more context

as soon as I come up to the two of them Alan excuses himself I won't say that we don't get along but to me Alan has always felt like someone standing on the other side of the glass at an aquarium watching us swim around I asked Paul what I heard the two of them talking about What did Alan mean when he said,

Body's piling up? Paul casts out one of his trademark smirks, when you just know there's a whole ocean of things beneath his surface that you'll never see. Alan likes his metaphors is all he's willing to offer. Damn him.

I'd hate Paul if I didn't love him if you get my meaning. I offer him what are my cigarettes, but he declines and goes back inside. I'm alone on the deck looking out to the glassy reflection of the shallow lake a few hundred yards out

I hear splashing try to focus cut through the infinite shadows that the moon is casting out I go to light the cigarette when I freeze and trembling someone is standing

in the water I think I can't tell exactly Could be a small tree, could be anything, but it isn't. It's a damn person. Standing in knee-high water, there must be freezing at this point, because I can see the breath spilling out of my mouth. It's coming out in small, quick gusts as my breathing picks up.

From the way this person is standing, I just know they're staring at the cottage, staring at me. I'm glued there. The shadows swim across my vision, the silhouette of whoever is in the water shifting with a breeze. A laugh from Cheryl. On a sixth drink now, I wager. Cuts through the air and I'm pulled out of the trance I was in.

I look out to the lake again. No one's there. I laughed to myself. Who would do that? Stand out there. I hear the sound of the door to the basement opening up. someone's walking on the stone patio below the deck. They stop right beneath my feet.

Paul? No answer. Then I hear Brian's voice through the deckboard cracks. At least, I think it's Brian. Cigarette, he asks. Is it him? It sounds like Brian. And yet, it doesn't sound like Brian.

His voice sounds strained. Sure, I say. and start towards the stairs that lead off the deck. No, he shouts. I'm startled by the intensity of it. Two fingers shoot up to the deckboards beneath my feet, layers of dirt beneath the nails. They're like tongues as they clamp around the cigarette.

I try to ignore my own hands shaking. What's wrong with me? Everything okay, Brian? I can't bring myself down to peer through the crack between the deckboard. Why am I worried? It's only Brian. Right? No response. The hand draws away quickly, like it's being pulled. Brian?

No answer. I take a deep breath, get down on my knees, and dare a look. There's no one there. First night, can't sleep. Stoveman and I ditch the tent idea. I don't want to go outside. Not after what I saw in the last. lake. My eyes keep darting to the doorway. It's open to the hall, a sliding pocket door that's broken

and won't come out. The hall is pitch black, save with a faint orange glow from a nightlight that seeps out of the bottom corner of the doorframe. I think I'm dreaming when I first see the leg tiptoe out, bending like a spider foot. Then a man slides into place, like a dead body reversing to an upright stance, straight as a damn arrow, completely covered in shadow. It came from the direction of DJ's room. It had to be Darrell. No other rooms in that direction. Then, it starts giggling.

High-pitched laughs like a hysterical hyena. It's darrell, but it's not Darrell. It's not Darrell. Not Darrell, no. I scream and shoot my arm out to turn on the light when the knot Daryl stops. Cut off like a power failure. His mouth is wide open like it's splitting his whole face in half. Then it twitches.

A spasm like a seizure and quickly moves back towards D.J.'s room. I'm up and running and screaming, ripped straight for D.J.'s bedroom and crashed through the closed door. Then the lights on and everyone's yelling and hollering and dowels in bed. He's in the bed under the covers, not in the hall. But as soon as I tell Darrell there's someone in the cottage, he's up and puffing and all the alpha like. He takes the lead as we search the whole place, waking everyone up, checking every dark corner we can think of.

Nothing. We all grouped together in the living room. Joanna asks me what the hell all that was about. What can I tell them? The truth. When I explain every weird thing I've seen, since we've got here, they all sit there with frightened looks and my stomach plummet again. I can feel the room getting colder.

I'm not the only one with a story. Surprisingly, Paul is the first to speak up. The guy is like a lockdown, six foot tall presidential bunker when it comes to sharing. He looks at me and says when they were bringing their bags inside, he saw me standing outside the deck. No, I wasn't. I was getting the tents out of the backseat of my car. Paul just nods his head. I walked out and no one was there.

I couldn't make sense of it. Then I heard you yelling something and saw you standing at your car. It's been a long few weeks and I'm pretty sleep deprived. I just chalked it up to that. I'm dumbstruck. I know I saw a stoveman on the deck. Everyone's quiet. I pretend, along with everyone else,

that we don't hear branches breaking somewhere out in the black. Cheryl speaks up next. Brian looks like a corpse beside her. She tells us that before bed, she went out into the back porch to follow Brian, who'd gone out for a smoke, found him just standing there. Brian, she called out.

No response. Cheryl started towards him, and that's when he hunched over, started spewing out this long, moan of a sob, racked, strung up, and Brian started bawling out on the spot. I went over to hug him, threw my arms around him. My Brian, I'm sure of it. Because then she turned her head and saw Brian standing right here in the living room, helping stoveman light the fire. Then Cheryl screams, on the porch, then in the living

room now. We all hear the tap water turn on in the bathroom. Joanna draws in a loud breath, as if she's been dunked into a lake of ice water, because she's next to figure out that everyone is already right here in this room. So, who the hell turned on the water? I'm up in a flash. My reflex is guiding my hand to the light switch because I want as much light as possible. But the light is already on, and I plunged us into darkness. The bathroom light is the only thing we can see. I can't move. All of us frozen to the spot. The water stops running. Then a figure creeps into view, bathed in shadow. Just this shadow in the doorframe. I take a breath, too. Then it speaks. The words creak out of its mouth

Like the sound of a branch Twisting in the wind Kill You No one says anything I don't even breathe Then it throws back its head And screams

Kill you Kill you Kill you And it won't stop It won't stop It doesn't stop I scream And finally manage to

to turn on the light, and of course, there's nothing there. Nothing. Cheryl's crying, like a screaming crying, but we all saw it, we all know, and take one look at each other, and in a hurry, we grouped together and turn on every light in the cottage, room by room, never letting one another out of sight

until the whole place is lit up like an IKEA showroom. I'm sure I'm not the first to think of ditching right there and then, screw the clothes and the food and sprint to the car. But, after that creeping leg and the wide open mouth of that not Darrell, cackling, and whatever the hell was coming out of the bathroom, I didn't want to put one foot outside in the black. Not a chance. I know I'm not the only one.

But, when I see Paul's face, his impossibly white eyes tearing up, the damn I could kill you with every object in the room, Paul, Crying and screaming because he had just seen Alan outside with his face pressed up against the window, and Alan had been laughing and stabbing himself in the eye, and everything inside him was sliding out the window, but Alan was sitting right beside him. When Paul couldn't be consoled out of the fetal position as Alan held him, and DJ were praying together, and Bryce was hugging Cheryl and Stoverman was talking with Kelly,

I just knew we had to stay and wait this whole thing out. We couldn't leave. We had to stay and wait this whole thing out and we couldn't leave and... Wait. What the hell? Stoveman had been... Talking with... Kelly?

Kelly? No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. I scream at everyone to freeze and they all look at me. Turn their heads all at the same time. I tell them. I tell them I just saw Kelly. my Kelly she was right there

like an explosion everyone is shooting out of their seats we have to figure out how to get to the cars they seem so far away now 100 metres might as well be one million in this darkness do we sprint darrell suggests we all just sprint

as fast as we can down the driveway twenty seconds and we could all be in the cars and driving the hell out of here and never talking about it again ever again, tell no one. 20 seconds in the blackness. Even if we all had flashlights, the darkness would be, we wouldn't be able to see jack all.

But I don't care, none of us do. We don't want to spend another minute in the cottage. We have four headband flashlights and spread them out. We link arms in a circle. Kumbaya, we are the world style. Like some massive circular starfish slithering against the bottom of the ocean. None of us will let go

until we're in the cars. The circle is like this. Brian, Cheryl, me, Darrell, Stoveman, Joanna. Then we're off. Every crunch of gravel under our feet.

Every exhale of breath makes me pucker up tighter than when I go over the hill in my car, momentarily airborne and my stomach is doing somersaults. Twenty seconds, feels like an hour. I'm staring out of the black, walking backwards, faced towards the cottage. I don't want to look at it. I'm too afraid the front door will start to open and that damn

leg will start to creep out again. I turn my head and reveal the sickly shapes of trees in the narrow beam of light coming from my headlamp. They look like people. An eternity later we reached the first car. DJ's hatchback. We debated going in separate cars for about two seconds. I shoved myself into the trunk and I'm the last to get in. DJ here up front. Darrell turns the key. Should have seen it coming.

Should have never come outside. The car won't start. The goddamn car won't goddamn start and we're all yelling at Darrell to, what, fix it? Try it again. Damn, we have to get back. I'm not going back. No way I'm going back up there

To the cottage No way No goddamn way But then Darrell can't move He's frozen in place We're all yelling at him And he doesn't move a muscle

I'm the first to see why The headlights Are spraying out in front of the car If the headlights work Why won't the car turn on? I can see gravel weed sticking out grass, woods, people

I can see people All of us Not in the car No not in the car We're all standing in the woods We're all looking at each other Why are we outside We're in the car

I wake up We're all in the living room The first shed of sunlight is creeping in through the window Sweet, merciful light I don't remember walking back from the car Why can't I remember DJ are wide awake on the couch Brian and Cheryl are sitting across from each other at the kitchen table

Neither speaks Stoveman is stoking the last dying embers of the wood Two small pieces of black charcoal The final corpses Each breathing out a final orange glow Paul and Alan are at the table saying nothing Paul is Paul

Alan Then it hits me like a damn sledgehammer Crushes my face in Two of them Two of them Two of them Brian, Cheryl Me, Daryl, Stoveman, Joanna

Paul Alan Where the hell? Where the hell were they? They never came out with us Never, they weren't there No way we fit eight in the hatchback now they're sitting in the kitchen table looking across at each other

were they always there did I when did damn no way we fitate no goddamn way of course the cars worked in the morning we opened up a call

between us and remain in constant contact till we've gone far enough that I can breathe again that we can all breathe again and the sun is over our heads and we drive for hours we must have been driving all day when we finally stop

and when we get out we all realise it then and there Paul and Alan never came with us I don't know how we missed it they were just gone you know the rest

the searches the interviews the interrogations military police investigators no I never went back I'm never going back because when we drove out of that place I felt a force tug at me

I hadn't felt since the last time I saw my wife The ocean I felt that terrifying current pull at me When we drove away from the cottage Exactly like the day Kelly was ripped away from me And no one ever saw her again I'll never go back I'll never go back to the cottage

Thank you.