CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "My Son Brought A Human Head For Show And Tell" Creepypasta

Episode Date: June 23, 2021

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by NewAgeSolution: 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►Jin Wang: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/qA...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-

The call took me totally off guard. Mrs. Fiora, can you please come to school as soon as possible? Mrs. Morgan, the school's guidance counsellor asked. Julian isn't hurt, but he's in a very serious situation. When I asked what happened, Mrs. Morgan said it'd be better to explain when I arrived. Bewildered and unnerved, I feared the worst when speculating what my eight-year-old son might have done. Julian could sometimes be a bit unruly at home. but never once got in any trouble at school.

Julian's teachers loved him, and he appeared to get along with all his classmates, which made this so unusual. Despite pondering every conceivable scenario during the drive, I never would have guessed what my son ultimately did in a million years. My stomach sank when I saw an ambulance and a trio of police cruisers in front of the school. After parking in the visitor's lot,

I was greeted by Mrs. Morgan, Mr. Quatro, Julian's teacher, Mrs. Jones, the principal, and two police officers, one of whom happened to be my cousin, Brady. I noticed none of them looked angry. They all had the same disturbed looks of horror and disbelief across their faces. Mrs. Fiora, thank you for coming so quickly, Mr. Jones said.

Where is my son? I asked anxiously. What did he do? He's with Mr. Isbista right now. the school psychologist, Mr Jones quickly replied. Before I could ask another question, Brady stepped forward and took me aside. Look, their figure would be best if I tell you what's going on. So, brace yourself. Brady said softly, taking a breath before continuing.

Julian brought a head to school. An actual human head. What? Was all like a gasp out, after not saying. saying anything for a few seconds, unsure if I heard Brady correctly. He had it in his backpack. Did you see him leave the house today? I waited with him for the bus like I do every morning, I said, unsure if there was a hint of suspicion in Brady's voice.

I had no reason to think anything out of the ordinary was going on. When I asked Brady what exactly happened, he motioned for Mr. Quatro, who slowly walked over to where we stood. Mr Quadro was still visibly distraught over the incident as indicated by a trembling hand which ironically only had four fingers when we briefly exchanged shakes when Brady asked him to recount what happened

Mr Quatro swallowed nervously before beginning The kids were supposed to have show and tell yesterday But we couldn't get to it in time So I had them do it today before lunch Mr Quatro said his face contorting with disgust while giving his account. When it was Julian's turn, he said he brought in a... Special friend.

He pulled it out of his pack, like it was nothing, in front of the whole class. Julian said the head was his... Uncle Miltie? Brady added. He doesn't have an Uncle Miltie, I said, staring mystified at my cousin. Did he say where he found it? He said the head was growing from the ground in the woods behind your house. My blood ran cold and mine started raising. I wasn't sure what rattled me more.

Julian seeing and physically handling a human head or the grim prospect that someone's remains were discarded as stones threw away from where my family slept. Julian wasn't allowed in the woods boarding our backyard and supervised and even when permitted, he knew he had to stay within view. When could he have made such a gruesome discovery without us knowing? Take me to my son. Julian was playing with Legos in Mr. Isbister's office when I entered,

seeming totally unaware of the situation's severity. Mr. Isbister said Julian was immediately brought here while he and Mr. Quadro try getting his class under control. When I asked if Julian explained why he did this, Mr. Ibister's answer sent a sharp chill down my spine. He said Uncle Miltie told him to. Mr. Ice Bister let Brady and I speak to Julian alone in his office. My son was elated to see me and seemed under the impression this was some kind of special occasion.

The innocent, unsuspecting look in his young face showed Julian appeared unaware he did anything wrong, which for me made this ordeal extra difficult. Julian, do you know what's going on? I asked, while sitting among the couch. Do you know why we're here right now? Julian's smile faded when he saw how concerned Brady and I looked. Julian? Who's uncle Miltie?

I asked when my son's eyes started to wander around the office. You don't have an uncle with that name. He lived in a hole behind our house, Julian said, nonchalantly, appearing more interested in getting back to playing with the Legos, I'm helping him find a new home. Brady and I looked at each other. Both of us visibly perturped by Julian's answer. What do you mean, Cus?

Brady quickly asked when he saw I was at a loss for words. Can you tell me where exactly you found the head? I mean, Uncle Miltie? Julian's smile returned. I was trying to find a ball I hit really far into the woods, and I found him sticking out to the ground, he replied. I knew the exact day Julian was referring to this past Saturday afternoon.

Julian and my husband were playing baseball when he hit an absolute howitzer that sailed into the tree line. Although they spread out to find the ball, my husband said Julian was always within view. It took over half an hour for them to find the ball, and I do remember losing sight of them quite a few times during their search. Julian must have found it then, I thought, becoming deeply unsettled when imagining the naive look in his face

when he made that grisly discovery. Would you be able to show us where you found him? Brady asked. And did you take Uncle Miltie with you the day you found him? Julian shook his head. I visited him again before he told me to take him. He lived where the wood power used to be. Julian was talking about a large man of firewood in our backyard. It took a few days,

where my husband and I relocated all the wood to another part of the yard. Its original location was a few yards into the tree line. We wanted to build a shed there, but wound up finding a better spot, despite clearing the area. I nodded at Brady, indicating I knew the exact place Julian described. Julian, what do you mean when he said? He told you to take him. Who are you talking to? Brady asked. Julian looked at Braille.

Brady, perplexed. Uncle Melty. He told me when I could take him with me. So you've been talking to this, this Uncle Melty head? Like how the three of us are talking right now? I asked. Tightly pursed my lips and Julian nodded affirmingly. I don't know what I'd have said if someone told me earlier today.

My son would bring a human head into school. That was also his imaginary friend. Mr. Icebus said Julian. may have been severely traumatized by what he found, and imagined it had interactive qualities as a coping mechanism. While Julian was getting looked up by the school nurse, Brady took me to see if I could recognize the head's face. The severed head was being kept in a nice filled cooler out in the ambulance.

He was in a large, clear evidence bag, and looked to have died fairly recently. I didn't recognize the man, who appeared to be in his 30s. and had a bloated face with narrow cheeks, large black eyes, Roman nose, thick pink lips and short black hair. His eyes were still open, looking in different directions, and mouth hung agape, his tongue partially protruding from between his teeth.

The head's whitish-baged skin had patches of mottled skin, darkened veins, and proverbial, deathly grey tint synonymous with corpses. I only looked long enough to verify I didn't recognise the man. face before having to suppress the oncoming urge to throw up. Julian was medically and psychologically evaluated before we were both interviewed by detectives at the police station. We didn't get home until later that night and by then a forensics team had already set up shop on my property.

Brady kept me informed and was at my house monitoring the situation. The whole area in front of my home was cordoned off by yellow police tape and jammed packed with a sundry of police vehicles. Brady and one of the detectives met me at the perimeter. I kept Julian near me while walking up to Brady and the detective, who had me bring my son inside before he spoke. Our cadaver dogs instantly picked up the scent and brought us right to the spot your son mentioned.

The detective, whose last name was Vendetto, began. We unearthed a shallow grave containing the remains of a body, a headless body. Despite largely expecting this, hearing someone confirm it was an actual reality made it no easier to accept. There was a corpse buried on my property that nobody probably would have known about had we not moved that heaping woodpile. A decomposing body, my son had the misfortune of discovering. No child is ever meant to experience those kinds of realities life offers at such a delicate age. Although Julian maintained a reserved exterior thus far,

I shuddered to think what actual thoughts and impacts this experience was having in my son. If it really was where the old woodpile used to be, which was there before I even bought the house, it had to have been there for a long time, no? I inquired, particularly emphasising how the woodpile predated when my family lived at the house. Well, that's the thing, Brady replied, getting an approving nod from Detective Vendetto to continue. Whoever's head Julian found

has probably only been dead for seven to ten days tops. The other remains have been buried there for a while. Years probably. I squinted in confusion at Brady and the detective. So they're looking for another body right now? There's two out there? Maybe not here, Detective Vendetto said. We haven't found any more remains yet,

but think someone might have dismembered and dispersed another body whose head your son found. There's no way the head Julian found and the decapitated remains they discovered were the same person, but I couldn't chalk up Julian's discovery happening to be in the exact spot as another corpse they just found being a coincidence. Without any substantiated proof, however, we were only left to speculate. Despite a thorough search of the woods behind my house and surrounding area, no additional human remains were found. Since the body was on our property,

we had to be formally cleared of any wrongdoing. While undergoing that process, more peculiar happenings occurred. Two days after the incident, Brady told me the head Julian found went missing at the police station, seemingly disappeared overnight without a trace. One week later, Julian's teacher, Mr. Guadro, was killed.

Only his severed head was discovered. The man's body was never found. My husband and I kept Julian out of school since that fateful day, and were considering transferring him so we could have a fresh start. Hearing news of his teacher's demise, which I kept away from Julian, prompted us to go through with a move. Even before, eventually selling the house, we packed up and relocated to a new town.

Julian adjusted well, despite still receiving therapy to help him manage his understandings of what happened and always speaking of Uncle Miltie in high regard if it ever came up in conversation. My new home was closer to my job and Julian made friends quickly at his new school. About three months passed since his show-and-tell incident. It was Julian's birthday, who hadn't gotten a chance to call since my morning and early afternoon were filled with back-to-back meetings, calls and appointments. I was already behind schedule and putting the final touches on a report that was 15 minutes past due.

I heard my office door open, which I knew was my final appointment before lunch. Keeping my eyes glued to the computer screen, I told my client to sit tight for five minutes, determined to have this write-up finished and sent before shifting gears. I heard him mutter something under his breath in disgruntled tone, before walking up to one of the chairs in front of my desk. While finishing the report, I pulled up my calendar to view my meeting's details, since my assistant made some last-minute changes to my morning schedule and fell to specify what they were before going to lunch. As soon as the appointment opened my screen, however, I heard abrupt footsteps of the client walking toward the door. I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to be rude.

Worried my inattempted nurse may have rubbed in the wrong way, I quickly pulled my eyes from my computer screen. just as he was about to leave my office. I caught a long enough glimpse to remember his face. Long and narrow, with beady, sly-looking black eyes, reddish pink lips that formed in a half-smirk, a balding forehead and short dark hair. Adjusting his fleece's tall neck collar, he looked at me with disgust and disappointment

before closing the door behind him with his hand. I quickly stood up and tried gesturing for the man to stay, kicking myself for being so inconsiderate and dreading the possible ramifications of this mishap. He looked oddly familiar, I thought, while hurrying across my office, hoping to catch him. I swung the door open, but he was already gone. Stomping in frustration, I slowly shut the door. Thankfully my assistant didn't witness that spectacle. Turning back to face my office, I froze after noticing a package on one of the chairs.

It was a square box, about 14 by 14 inches, and gift wrapped in plaid red and green paper. There was a card taped to the top of the package addressed my son. Upon reading it, I was hit with a spinning light head in us when it made me remember where I previously saw that man's face. Dear Julian, wishing you a happy birthday as promised. Thank you for helping me with a new look. Talk soon. Uncle Miltie. I stood there, holding the card in my shaking hands,

constantly rereading the handwritten notes inside of it, while trying to comprehend who was just in my office. However, it was in his face being that of the severed head Julian found, which filled me with paralyzing terror. The man's hand used to shut the office store behind him. I realized only had four fingers.