CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "My family has been camping on the same island since I was a kid" Creepypasta

Episode Date: December 16, 2020

Some very strange things have happened there.CREEPYPASTA STORY►by landfallians: 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►Stefan Koidl: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/nROxKSUGGESTED 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-

This weekend I'm in a while I'm new as I'm not on think. Oh, that dossier that morning off must be all moot as I'm too

on think. Oh, van't at a pedal tournoe I'm a moose if I'm a moose if I'm not too to come.

Give you self then a boost with bio-cure Maxshot Liquid. Three opepend plants, magnesium, iceer.

An energy booster to make then to come all right to come to comellllllll Mycshot liquid. Fooding Supplement forcrag by the

apotheker. My dad loves camping. Actually, my dad's entire side of the family is very outdoorsy. Ever since I was about eight, we've gone camping on an island, out in a large lake, located about six hours from my home. Honestly, I feel like we're probably insane for continuing to come to this place year after year, even after the weird stuff we've seen, but it's otherwise a really fun place to camp. Aside from literally everything I'm about to tell you, it makes for a great vacation spot,

Very secluded and relaxing. Originally, we were a small group, just me, my brother and dad, my dad's best friend and his son, and a good friend of mine, since my dad figured little eight-year-old me wouldn't want to be stuck with a group of boys all weekend. Over the years, the viva continued going, but our numbers have grown. Now, we usually end up with a group of up to nine or ten people, comprised of family members and other close friends. We've been camping on the island every summer, every summer since we were kids for the past 11 years. It wasn't a pre-existing tradition either.

My dad just decided one day that it would be a great idea to pack up and live in the woods on an island for a week. He turned out to be right, and now we're here. By this point, we all know the place practically as well as our hometown. Two years ago, my family actually bought a little cabin out on the island, which we used often in the summer and rent out to other visitors when we aren't occupying it. Point being, we've been visiting this island for nearly as long as I can remember. As much as I love the place, there is some weird and unexplainable stuff that goes on out there.

The following events are just some of the strange things that have happened to me and my friend, who we'll call Violet, throughout the years. But I do plan and ask my fellow island visitors if they've had any weird or creepy experiences during any of our trips. The first one happened, either the first or second year we headed to the island. for the weekend. The campsite we frequented is set right on the water, so that some of the sites even face out over the lake. Our campsite was set a bit farther back, but was still within easy walking distance of the lake, so the four of us were spent most of the day in a constant loop from campsite to lake and back to campsite again. Another thing about this campground,

it was empty almost every single time we stayed there. There were a couple of years where one or two other groups would be there at the same time as us, but that was rare. In hindsight, we should have taken that into consideration before setting up camp there year after year. It was a very bare-bones campground, two outhouses and a shed full of logs parked near the entrance, one water pump alongside the path to the beach. Some of the sites were even overgrown with tall grass and bushes, to the point where there was nowhere to actually put a tent. Anyway, on this particular day, It was sunny, so everyone was parked out on the beach with towels and a cooler of cold sodas. It was early afternoon and Violet and I had been sent back to the campsite to grab the second cooler,

which was packed full of snacks for lunch. What I remember vividly isn't our walk to the campsite, but the walk back to the beach. There's a dirt road that winds all throughout the campground, leading to each individual site, and which eventually wanders all the way to the beach. Violet and I were walking that path, just rounding the bend so that the bank of tall grass just before the beach was visible a little further ahead of us. We must have been talking because I remember her suddenly motioning me to be quiet. We slowed to a stop, gradually. The kind of stop you do when you know something isn't right, but you aren't quite ready to think about it yet. We stopped in the middle of the path in broad daylight. We gave each other confused glances.

My arms had started to wake, so I set down the cooler. Something about the air in that moment, a sudden silence made the hair in the back of my neck stand up. It took a moment for the realisation to set in. As I mentioned, this campground was tacked right on the edge of the island, so that the lake was audible at pretty much all hours of the day. It had been especially loud today, with a strong south wind stirring the waves into a bit of a frenzy, so much that the sound had eventually faded. into the background like white noise.

The sound of the waves hadn't disappeared. But it wasn't coming from the lake ahead of us. It was coming from the woods to our left. I remember the feeling of dread when the realisation struck me. It was as if all the moisture was sucked from my throat as my stomach shrank in and itself. The sound itself was almost perfect. The wet slap of waves against the rocks

followed by a bubbling, frothing, frothing, hissing as the water crawled backwards before being stirred into another wave. Crash, hiss, repeat. But it was too wet. Which doesn't even make sense, because it sounded like a lake, so of course it was wet.

But I just remember thinking that it sounds wet, not wet like water, but more organic. What should have been the crash of waves against rock sounded more meaty, like a bucket of water

thrown over someone's bare chest. hollow and raw. The hiss was wrong too. It sounded too... Breathy. It sounded like breathing. Like something trying to imitate the sound of the lake with heavy, swampy breaths.

I think Violet and I both realised that at the same time, because when I joked around a look at her, her eyes were as wide and panicked as I imagine mine must be. She opened her mouth, but, before she could speak, something exploded out of the bushes directly to our left. It moves so quickly that neither of us got a good look at it. All I know is that whatever it was,

it was too big to be a rabbit, but too small to be a deer. But it had antlers, and it moved like nothing I'd ever seen before. If you've ever watched an old, scratched up DVD, think of how the characters move around where the DVD is skipping, but not quite frozen, kind of jerky and glitchy,

jumping from place to place but leaving a trail of pixels whenever they move their limbs it moved like that but without the skips that come in between just really distorted twisted steps

I swear I saw that thing's insides as it ranged its way across the path its mouth was shuddering open and shut like a fish we were frozen for about three seconds after it disappeared into the trees on the other side of the path after that we just took off of the beach

without saying a word. We tried to tell my dad and Drew, my dad's best friend, what had happened. They both told us it was probably a deer. It was not a deer. Violet and I still talk about that sometimes. I think that was the first instance where it occurred to us that this may not be an entirely ordinary island. The next one happened two years after that when I was around 10.

As I mentioned earlier, this campground barely even qualified as a campground. I mean this in the nicest way possible, because I love the place, but it was terrifying to walk around there at night. Weird rabbit deer creatures aside, the place was pitch black after nine o'clock, and as a kid, the thought of walking to the outhouse alone was unfathomable. One of the outhouses was located, and I'm not joking, in the middle of the downwards, with no paths actually leading to or away from it. Yeah, we'll get to that later, and the other one was parked on the edge of the circle drive that sat right in front of the beach. So, I'm ten, and I'd rather suffer the whole night long, then walked to that cobwebby outhouse

by myself now that it's dark. I entered my tent, and as quiet as I could, trying not to wake violet, and padding across the campground to the fire, where my dad was still sitting drinking a beer. As far as I could tell, Drew had already retreated to his tent with his son, and my brother was passed out in the tent he shared with Dad. Dad walked me to the outhouse and waited for me outside. One thing I should note about the outhouse, opening the door and coming out,

you can see directly across the dirt circle drive to the path that leads through the bank of tall grass and down onto the beach. I keep saying beach, but I mean that in the same way that someone who says outhouse means clean, pleasant restroom. The beach at this campsite was rocks, not even pebbles, just straight up two miles of rocks. You had to wade a good 15 to 20 feet out into the water before you would hit sand that wasn't painful to walk on.

So I opened the door and the first thing I saw was a tall figure standing at the mouth of the beach. It took a second for my eyes to get used to the darkness but then I recognised it as Drew. I remember being confused for a moment because I'd been sure he was sleeping the feeling of realization dawning the second later.

Drew was and still is a practical joker. One of his favorite pastimes during these camping trips is to see how many times he can scare us kids completely out of our skin. So I thought, oh, okay, he's going to loop around and hide on the path and scare me on our way back. hilarious. At the time, I didn't think how impractical it would have been for him to come all the way out to the beach and then loop back

when he could have easily gone and hid him. in the bushes along the path while I was using the bathroom. Give me a break. I was ten. Figuring, I might as well let him know that he'd been seen, I waved at him and rolled my eyes exaggeratedly to say, nice try. Instead of waving back, he tilted his head slowly to one side as if confused. He lifted a hand limply into the air, but didn't wave it. Then he smiled and turned, hands still raised,

and walked up the path and out of sight. By now I had a weird feeling in my stomach. I asked my dad if he and Drew had been planning a joke on me, but he said Drew had gone to bed. I was adamant that he hadn't, and insisted that we walk over to the beach to join him because he must have come out after us, to see the stars or look at the water or whatever the hell

people do on the beach at 11 o'clock at night. My dad obviously thought I was crazy, but he followed me anyway as I led the way over to the water. We walked up the path through the tall grass and out onto a completely empty stretch of rocks met by eerily calm water. To this day, Artomey thinks it was still an elaborate joke done by my dad and Drew to scare the hell out of me,

which in that case, it definitely worked and props to them for the commitment. Technically, he could have looped around and sprinted back through the trees to a campsite without me ever seeing him. Like I said, the campground was empty most of the time, aside from us, so he wouldn't have disturbed anyone. The other part of me remembers how, when that thing turned around, everything but his head

was facing away from me, before it seemed to remember that his head was supposed to turn too, and it snapped around lightning quick, or without ever losing that damn smile. That's the part to me that thinks, yeah, okay, probably not. This is the last one I'll tell for now, and it happened two summers ago. We had just put the final touches on the house, bringing in dishes and whatnot, after an unfortunate incident, during which we sat down for dinner and realized there was not a single plate to be found in the entire house, and we were staying there for the rest of the week before heading back home that Sunday.

There was a whole crowd of us in one small house, so everyone was spread out all over. Violet and I were sharing the very top room, which everyone referred to as a loft, even though it wasn't technically a loft, and there was an actual loft just down the stairs to the left. The layout of the house is actually kind of important here, so I'll explain it as best I can. At the very top is the loft, which is actually just the small bedroom at the highest point of the house. There are stairs leading down from that room to a small catwalk,

which looks down on the living room slash kitchen area below. The catwalk leads to the actual loft, which holds a bunk bed and a couple of closets. Turning bright at the end of the catwalk will take you down another short set of stairs to the landing. where there's another bedroom in two bathrooms. One more set of stairs leads down to the living room and kitchen. Anyway, it was some unthinkable hour of the morning that normally I would have no trouble sleeping straight through.

For some reason, I woke up. Have you ever been dreaming really heavily? And when you wake up, it's almost like you were just slammed back into your bed, like you'd fallen from the sky. That was how I woke up. My chest felt heavy with dread, the way it usually does after a nightmare. I could feel my heartbeat, thoughting along slow and syrupy. I looked to my right, expecting to see Violet passed out beside me, but she wasn't there.

I sat up, looked straight ahead and jumped. Violet was standing at the foot of the bed, right in front of the window, blocking the faint lights from outside, so that she was barely a silhouette in the blurry darkness. She was looking at me, completely devoid of expression. Her eyes flat and her mouth slack. Her hands hung at her sides, but one of them was open, as if she'd been reaching for something.

Her fingers spayed. My glasses were off, so I genuinely don't remember if I saw this, or if I imagined it. At first I thought her hand was twitching, but as I squinted and looked closer, it was less like the hand itself was moving, and more like something writhing and pulsated. beneath her skin.

What are you doing? I mumbled, still half asleep, more than a little unnerved. Without taking her eyes off me, she reached for the door with a partially open hand and fumbled for the door handle. Her fingers moved weirdly as if her hand had fallen asleep in that position

and she hadn't gotten the feeling back to her fingertips yet. She left the door wide open when she left. I sat there with my heart pounding as I gradually woke up. my brain already filling the gaps with logic. It was late. She was tired. I was tired.

She could even be sleepwalking. She came back into the room a few minutes later and there was an immediate shift in energy. You know when something weird has happened and it's like the air itself gets heavier, almost harder to breathe. As soon as she walked back inside, shutting the door this time, it felt easier to breathe again. She must have sensed the change in the atmosphere because she gave me an air. odd look as she climbed back into the bed. You're okay. You seem way to relieve to see me.

By that point, I think I already knew what was going to happen, but it still caused an awful sinking in my chest as I asked her why she'd been acting so strange when she left the room. And watched the colour slowly drained from her face. There was a moment of tense silence. Then Violet swallowed and said,

So, that wasn't you on the last? landing? Apparently, this is what happened on her end. She had gotten up to use the bathroom, gone down the stairs to the landing, where she had seen me. She was understandably confused, seeing as she'd just left me lying in bed, but wrote it off, figuring she'd been too tired to notice that I wasn't there. She had barely glanced over me anyway, and it was dark. According to her, while I'd been lying in bed asleep, I'd also been standing at the landing, staring straight up at the skylight above with my mouth slack and my eyes blank.

One hand opened and, twitching weirdly at my side, Violet had said my name, and that was when, whatever that thing was, had turned and gone up the stairs to our room. She said, it wasn't until the thing passed her that she'd got in any sense that something was wrong. She said there was a sharp whiff of something acrid, my gold meat gone bad.

There had also been a low, garbled mumbling, But the thing's mouth never moved. I asked her if she's seen anything on a way back up to the room. She hadn't. To this day, I have no idea what that thing was or where it went. These are just the stories I tend to tell people the most, around campfires or at parties, back when those were still a thing. There's a whole lot of weird stuff that goes on on this island,

and I know my brother and other family or friends who have come out over the years we'll still have some stories to tell us well. We all love the place, but we've all learned over the years that those noises in the woods are usually best left uninvestigated.