CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "My Son Has Always Been Afraid Of Nothing" Creepypasta

Episode Date: August 17, 2020

AUTHOR'S TWITTER► https://twitter.com/CR_Brooks1CREEPYPASTA STORY►by C.R. Brooks: 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-

It had started long before I even noticed anything. A few side glances, a quick turn here and there, nothing that would outwardly scream danger. It wasn't until his last soccer game of the season that I started to suspect something was wrong. We were tied up with the other team and time was running out. One last goal would have brought us to yet another undefeated season. Henry was heading down the field fast,

opening himself for a pass that could have led to the game-winning kick. But, right after the ball got to him, he started staring off to the right of the field. A look of worry crossed his face, and I could tell whatever he was seeing was really bothering him. The pass came, but with Henry distracted, the other team was able to intercept it without issue. A few kicks later, and it was all over, with our team going home one point short. A lot of players were upset. Heck, some were even crying, which isn't that surprising for a group of 10-year-olds.

But Henry's expression never changed. Even when the ball was stolen from right in front of him, he never once moved, almost like he was nailed down to the spot where he stood. After it was over, I went and gave him a gentle nudge. Henry? His eyes immediately met mine, and, after he turned back towards where he was looking,

his worried luck fell away. I'm sorry, Dad. Everything okay? You missed a good pass. He shrugged and said, I guess I just choked. Are you sure? You seemed pretty upset.

I asked. Yeah, it's nothing. Don't worry about it. He grabbed his bag off the bleachers and started heading towards the car, glancing every now and then back towards that space. I looked over my face.

myself, but nothing seemed to be out of place, just a few trash cans next to the concession stand. I soon put the incident out of my mind, and before long I completely forgotten about it. That was, until last month, when I asked him to help me get the table ready for dinner. He came downstairs and started setting out the plates, when something to the left caught his eye. I could see him turn his body towards it from the kitchen, that same worried look on his face. I called his name a couple of times, but he was completely frozen, eyes locked forward. I once again went over and gave him a gentle nudge. But this time he yelled and dropped the plate he was holding, shattering it to pieces.

I jumped back in surprise and Henry did the same, both of us staring at the plate on the ground. I'm sorry, Dad, I'll clean it up, he said, heading towards the broom closet. What was that? I asked, my voice increasingly concerned. What? It was nothing. You scared me. He replied meekly. I watched him for a minute while he cleaned up the glass.

The look on his face I had seen when he was frozen in place was gone and, in its stead, was close to his normal demeanour. Like nothing had ever happened. But I knew something had happened, and I knew there was no way I was going to forget that. From then on, it became more and more apparent. I'd find him in the bathroom, staring at the shower for several minutes straight, forcing me to break him from his stupor.

Once I saw him lying in bed, glaring at the ground below him, the worried look on his face transforming into slight fear. But no matter how many times I saw him staring at the wall or internally watching a single fence post, he'd always tell me the same thing. It's nothing, Dad. Don't worry. Over and over again, it's nothing.

I kept insisting something was wrong, trying everything I could to force him to tell me what had him so freaked out, but nothing I did worked. I should also mention that around this time, I'd started to notice strange things around the house. It wasn't furniture moving or cabinets being thrown open or anything like that. It was more of a feeling of everything being moved a little to the level. left.

Nothing looked out of place, but everything felt off. Hallways started to feel longer to walk through. Doorways were taller than I remember, and every night seemed to be darker than the last. It got to the point where I would wake up during the night to find my room almost pitch black, even with the shades pulled up and the windows open. I'd look and be unable to see my wife laying next to me, or barely see my hand in front of my face. The longer I looked, the more the shadows expanded and encapsulated everything around me.

I knew this had to be a trick of the mind or some kind of illusion, but it creeds me out nonetheless. By this point, my wife had started to notice strange things too, and we decided the best thing to do was to get Henry some form of counselling. I talked to a man from a church who was a physiologist, and he agreed to meet Henry for a few sessions. After they were over, I went to his house to ask how things were going. Without getting into specifics, it's very clear something is bothering him. Mitch said, pouring me a drink.

How specific can you get? I asked, shaking my leg nervously. Well, it's just that there's hardly anything for me to go on. Every time it seems like I'm about to get to the root of the problem, he always says. It's nothing, I interrupted. Exactly. Almost like nothing is exactly what's bothering him. What do you mean? I asked. I'm not sure exactly. All I know is there's only one other major aspect to all of this.

You. This caught me off guard, causing me to choke a little on my whiskey. Me? Yes, you. Your son is very concerned about your well-being in all of this. He's frightened over the idea of you being hurt. I sat for a minute and tried to process this. My well-being? Why would you be worried about me?

He's the one being affected. What do you suggest? I stammered, trying to keep my drink down. Well, you seem to communicate well with your son. Perhaps addressing the issue head on will help. Don't allow him to blow off us nothing. But don't be aggressive in your questioning. Let him know that you care about him and that you just want to help.

I thanked Mitch and started to head for the door. As I grabbed my coat, he put his hand on my shoulder to stop me. I almost forgot. There was another incident that had me worried. At the beginning of our session, another episode seemed to be triggered. He stopped talking and instead stared at a spot behind my desk. I have to say, it concerned me a lot. Why is that?

Because he never once moved. The drive home was full of worry and regret. How could I let it get this bad? What could I have done better? When I finally crawled in bed, my wife was already fast asleep. But I just lay there, a still slab of a man in the night. My hope was beginning to fade, and I feared things would never get better. It was around 3 a.m. that I started to hear the noise.

A faint drumming sound coming from downstairs. I grabbed a bat and began heading towards the kitchen, trying to contain the sounds each sound my steps took. After a quick search of the house, I came up empty, but the drumming never stopped. I made my way towards Henry's room, following the increasing intensity of the sound. The door was slightly open,

and I could see him fast asleep through the crack. But when I pushed it open, My eyes were immediately drawn to the spot by his bed. Although I couldn't see anything, I knew that something was there. A feeling of someone's presence filled the room, and the more I looked, the more it took shape. A dark outline was beginning to form, and inside that was more darkness. An almost complete lack of light would be a better explanation. At that moment, I knew that whatever it was,

It was wrong, unnatural and inescapable. I stared in confusion for a moment before a gentle shove broke me from my state. Dad, what's wrong? Henry said, sitting up in bed. I quickly looked back to see the shape, but it had vanished. The feeling of something being wrong in the air quickly left the room. It's nothing, I said. The words, forming a deep,

pit in the bottom of my stomach. I kneeled beside him, wrapping his body in a tight embrace. Looking back, I'm not sure if it was for him or for myself. You saw it, didn't you?

He asked, starting to sob. I took his face in my hands, bringing his eyes to mine. Buddy, I need to know what's going on. I need to know everything. It took a moment for him to

compose himself, but once he had, he didn't hold anything back. This thing had been a part of his life for as long as he had one. When he was younger, it only existed as a dark energy that seemed to follow him around. But as his senses began to develop, his understanding of it started to change and take form. It was no longer just a feeling of bad things to come. It was a beacon for bad things already here. He said it seemed to amplify negative emotions, bringing the worst outcomes with it. He began to describe his seventh birthday to me in intense detail, bringing to light his point of view of the day.

I remember it being a fine birthday. My wife and I had a little spat, but nothing worth remembering. But if you had asked Henry, he said it was more like a war zone between us. each of us through horrible words and promises at the other until I eventually left to go get more ice Before it got there You guys weren't being awful to one another But after it came I could hear the hatred in your voices

He said in trembling words I've never heard you talk back to mum like that And when you left I didn't think you were coming back I thought harder to that day Remembering how upset I was about the trouble we were having trying to find a new house. It seemed like we couldn't agree on anything, and that day was the worst of it. I can remember getting so angry that I really thought about leaving everything behind.

It wasn't until I left that the feeling went away and I was able to calm down. After you left, Mom went into a room and cried. That's when I saw it for the first time. Saw it? Saw what? asked. He shrugged and sighed, I don't know. It was like nothing was there, but more than nothing. I understood what he meant. What I had seen hadn't been nothing, but it was a lack of anything, an empty abyss of anything meaningful or warm. After that day, it started coming

more and more, he continued. I could ignore it at first, just pretend nothing was wrong, but it got harder and harder to pretend. Pretty soon, I'd started watching it without realising it. He got up and walked over to the computer sitting on his desk. He pulled up the explorer tab and started looking through his pictures.

He pulled one up and turned the screen towards me. See? The picture was of his closet door, the side of which was cracked open. Inside, I could see a faint echo of what was standing beside him earlier. A dark spot behind the door that lacked any space.

I took this a while ago, and ever since then, things have gotten worse. What do you mean worse? I said, a slight hint of panic in my voice. It started forming faster, following me around more. You and Mom have been acting differently because of it. It was true. We had started to have some problems. We never seemed to see either off. high on anything anymore. Had it really been that noticeable?

The worst of it was at the game. It had never followed me that far before. His cries began again and he ran into my arms bearing his face in my chest. It saw me looking at it, Dad. It saw me that time.

Now it knows I can see it. Each sentence was broken up by a long, deep cry. I tried to slow his breathing to help him calm down. but nothing worked. He eventually fell asleep on me, too tired to keep crying. I laid him down in bed and began to think about what I could do.

Could we leave? How far away could I go without it following us? Had it seen me when I came into the room? Does it know I can see it too? A million questions flooded my brain, and before I knew it, I had fallen asleep right alongside him. When the morning came, what I'd seen seemed more like a distant memory. I decided to let him stay home from school that day

and tried to get some work done at the house while my wife was outrunning errands. It didn't take long before I felt like something was off. It was like I'd woken up on the wrong side of the bed for 20 years straight. I was angry and hurt, depressed and anxious all at once. Everything around me seemed either pointless or actively in my way. I couldn't focus on anything for more than 20 minutes before the rush of emotions weighed me down to a point of collapse.

Had this been what Henry meant? Was this nothing making me feel like this? I started wondering the house in the hopes of shaking the feeling loose, but nothing seemed to do the trick. God, what was this? Why is it coming after my family? Why? Why us?

The questions in my mind blinded my vision, and I wasn't aware of where I was going. It wasn't until I felt hot asphalt burning my bare feet that I could see where I was. I was on Fifth Street, two streets over from my house. I was still wearing my pyjama bottoms and a plain white shirt. The moment I realized I left Henry alone was the moment my wife's car came into view. Carolyn, I screamed, running towards her, each step sending searing pain through my body. Rick, what the hell are you doing out here?

Where's Henry? He's at the house, go, go. We quickly sped and weaved down the roads, pulling into the grass in front of our house. Through the windows, it seemed that every light in the house was off, but I knew better. I burst through the door and ran straight to Henry's room with Carolyn right behind me.

The feeling that surrounded me was almost overwhelming, slowly bringing me to my knees. The drumming sound had never been louder, and the more I heard, the worse I felt. The inside of his room was ripped a shred. He looked as though a bomb went off, and, at the epicenter, was Henry, being held by the arm, pleading and screaming to be let go. It was clear the outline I saw in his room that night wasn't nothing. Nothing would imply there had been something before. What I was looking at now was the absence of anything. A void that consumed all and released nothing.

I was staring at eternity. I was staring at the end of time. I was staring at the shape of death. And death had my son by the arm. Henry stopped screaming and instead sobbed silently, admitting to himself that there was no use. nothing that could help. In a desperate attempt, I crawled forward and pulled myself around him, try my best to shield

all that I could. I felt a deep burning sensation against my skin, but I held on as tight as I could, covering his face so he couldn't see. I opened my eyes to find the being staring straight at me, its gaze ripping through me, not letting me turn away. I felt like I could fall into it at any moment and sink into the voice. but before I could it was gone

I looked again to see the room was back to normal as though nothing had happened I felt the dead weight of Henry's body in my arms and looked down to see he was unconscious I screamed for Carolyn to call an ambulance as I tried to get Henry to wake up

the EMTs came and took him to the nearest children's hospital while Carolyn and I answered the police questions we agreed that the best thing to do we say we found him like that while we were out of the house. Explaining why we left a 10-year-old alone was a lot easier than explaining the incomprehensible being we had seen in his room. They didn't seem satisfied with their answers, but let us go so we could see Henry in the

hospital. He woke up 19 hours after he was brought here, and the doctor said they had to run some tests before he could be released. It's been two days, and we still don't know. know when we're allowed to leave. I'm starting to think the police are asking them to stall his release so they can prove when negligent parents. All I know is that as soon as we can, we're getting the hell out of here, jumping in the

car and not stopping until I'm satisfied that thing won't find us again. I'm hoping that comes sooner rather than later. The hospital is starting to feel strange. It might just be that my nerves are on edge. but I've noticed that each night is starting to feel darker than the last. And in the quiet, I can hear the faint drumming in the distance.