CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "My son's imaginary friend is dead" Creepypasta

Episode Date: December 21, 2021

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by cjgranger: 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-

The smell of freshly-brewed coffee was strung in the air as I descended the stairs. I stretched languidly when I reached the bottom, my body still trying to wake up after a long, good night's sleep. Good morning all, I announced as I made my way into the kitchen. I gave my wife a quick peck as I passed by the stove. Dad! My son squealed, hopping out of his chair and rushing over. That never got old. Luke was four and a firecracker.

I lifted the boy off his feet and swung him around, much to the chagrin of his mother, who was trying to get him to settle down long enough to eat his Cheerios. Notice in Claire's harrid expression, I quickly dropped Luke back into his little chair to finish his breakfast. How did you sleep, little man? Fine, Reggie came to see me last night. Ah, yes, and how is fine Reginald doing these days? I asked with mock seriousness. His name is Reggie Dad, not Reginald, Luke said, drawing out the last syllable, as if the name Reginald was an absolutely absurd moniker.

Apologies, how is Reggie doing? I responded, enunciating the name. My wife shot me a dark look. I knew I shouldn't encourage this new imaginary friend my son had concocted. Claire certainly did not approve, but I honestly couldn't see the harm in it. He was four after all. What four-year-old hasn't had an imaginary friend. And, as we had just moved into a new home and a new village, I think it was his way of coping with being in a strange place and settling in. The move to Castlewood was somewhat unexpected.

My job had offered the chance of a transfer, along with a sizable promotion. It was too good of a deal to pass up. The drawback was, of course, that the abrupt's change had left very little time for my child, and wife to acclimate to our new surroundings. He's okay, said Luke. I glanced up at Luke. Just okay? That's too bad.

What did good old Reggie have to say? Nothing much, Luke said, slurping milk from his spoon. Just stuff. Just stuff, I parroted. Yeah, he said he doesn't like you. I feigned distress. No, Reggie, you wound. me. I tickled Luke lightly, which resulted in a round of giggles. Well, perhaps I can meet

Reggie officially at your birthday party next weekend, and he'll realize I'm not such a bad guy. My son laughed brightly and responded nonchalantly. That's silly, Dad. Reggie can't come. He's dead. I heard the spatula my wife was holding clatter onto the stove. We both locked eyes. I paused for a beat before responding. You say Reggie's dead I finally asked Looking back to my son

Sure He's been dead for a long time My son responded Before spooning Another mouthful of Cheerios into his mouth Mom Can I go out and play in the garden now I've finished almost the whole bowl

Claire Looks slightly distracted Before she nodded slightly to Luke Yes but Make sure to bring your bowl to the sink first Yes mom "'Luke shouted, already running his half-full ball of cereal to the sink. "'He dashed out into the backyard without a second look back.

"'I stared at his retreating figure. "'What do you think that was all about?' I asked my wife. "'I don't know? Quite creepy, don't you think?' she responded. "'Quite. "'I don't know how he could have concocted such a story, to be honest. "'I think there's something to it.' "'Clair shot the look of disdain my way. Are you asking me if there's a ghost haunting her house

and he visits our son at night? Really, John? What, you don't believe in ghosts? Of course not. It's a load of nonsense. Please don't tell me you actually believe that. I don't know, I said with a look of contemplation. I think there's a lot in the universe we don't understand.

Who's to say there's not something after death? She turned back to my eggs that she was still cooking. That's ridiculous, John. Anyway, as you've said before many times, it's just a harmless imaginary friend, right? She looked back over her shoulder at me. Right, I muttered, only half listening at this point. My mind was on other matters now. I stared at the window, watching Luke play in his sandbox.

Maybe I should stay in Luke's room tonight. You know, check it out. Make sure there's not some weirdo sneaking into our son's room at night. Really? Don't you think that's a little overkill? What could it hurt? It's a Friday night. Mom would be happy to keep him for a sleep over.

They can binge watch Poor Patrol while she gorges on popcorn and sugar cookies, and you can get a night to relax in the tub with a glass of wine and a good book. She tried to look annoyed, but I could tell she was intrigued by the idea. This is ridiculous, you know, she says half-heartedly. Come on, you know a good soak and a night to yourself sounds pretty damn good. She rolled her eyes. I knew I'd won. Whatever, but if your mom is busy, it's off.

Just as I predicted, Mom was pleased as punch to take Luke for the night. She picked him up early that evening, and Claire and I enjoyed a lovely carry-out pizza and cheap wine. I sent her off to have a ball bath while I watched some goofy alien show on the History Channel. By 11 o'clock, I found myself getting sleepy and ready to turn in.

After changing into my PJs and brushing my teeth, I announced to my wife that I was off to commune with a dead in my hoagiest spooky voice. She was already in bed and engrossed in a paperback. Have fun, she muttered distractedly, blowing me a kiss. I left the warmth of her bedroom and shoveled down the hall into Luke's room. I flipped on the overhead light and looked around. The pale blue walls sported a large clown mural,

which stared back at me with a large, toothy grin. I shuddered. Why, oh why, did my wife decide on a carnival theme for his new room? There was nothing creepier than a clown, hands down. I walked over to Luke's tiny bed with his striped blue comforter. My feet would hang off the end, but I would survive. I crawled into bed and shut off the lamp that was shaped like an elephant. Darkness enveloped the room, save for a small,

nightlight in the corner shaped like a big top. The soft red light gave the clown a hellish glow. How had I not noticed how creep with this room could be at night? Turning away from the creepiest clown, I lay down and try my best that slow my breathing and relax. I awoke abruptly from a deep sleep to the sound of creaking. I had a moment of confusion as I tried to recognise my unfamiliar surroundings. Right, Loops Room.

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and looked around trying to locate the source of the noise. A closet door in the far right corner was ajar. Hadn't it been closed when I went to sleep? Luke's tiny backpack swung slightly from where it hung on the doorknob. Hello, I tentatively whispered. Is anyone there? Silence. I turned to my right and my gaze landed on the damn clown.

I really needed to talk to Claire about the door to Claire about the door. that. The nightlight still gave off that creepy red glow, making the room appear almost disorienting. I looked around the roof, noting the pile of stuffed animals in the corner and the bookcase by the door. You're not Luke. My gaze whipped back over to the closet. The voice was so quiet, I couldn't even be sure I'd heard it. Who's there? I whispered to the closet. Again, silence met query. I rubbed my eyes. This was ridiculous. What was I even doing in here?

I was working myself up over nothing. I was a grown-ass man sleeping in a tiny bed next to the arguably creepiest damn clown in the universe. I threw the covers back and was about to swing my legs over the side of the bed. When I heard it again, You're not Luke. I froze in place. There was no denying. it this time, I had heard a voice coming from the closet.

Slowly, as if I didn't really want to see, I drug my gaze towards a dark closet in the corner. From the red glow of the nightlight, I saw a tiny, pale face. Only the top off of the face was visible, large, dark orbs for eyes, a greyish-white forehead, and a matting of dark hair. The face stared at me from high up in the closet, like it was on my face. seen a tall child standing just behind the wall. What the hell? Who, who are you?

I stammered. The face remained still. I realized the eyes had not yet blinked. Are you, Reggie? I asked. At the sound of the name, the face abruptly disappeared, and I heard a scrambling noise come from the closet. Where is Luke? The voice was louder and coarser this time, with Luke's name coming out gravely and angry from the child.

He's not here, I said. Glad to hear my voice steady this time. What do you want? There was silence for several seconds. Finally, the voice spoke, softer this time. Want Luke. I was shocked into silence for a few beats. You can't have Luke. The room said, suddenly grew cold and the air crackled.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Before I could say anything in response, I spotted movement at the floor of the closet. The white face was back, and I could see it more clearly from this vantage. It was the face of a child, but corrupted. This was not a child.

The skin was sickly and thin. The eyes were sunken, almost desiccated. Dark circles surrounded the black eyes. The lips were pale and bloodless and were curled into a sickening grin. It was the teeth that shook me the most. They were extremely small, thin and jagged, as if each tooth had been broken intentionally

to create this horrific and serrated more. The chin rested directly on the floor and the face looked directly at me with an anger I had never seen on the face of a child. It was a face of pure and utter rage. The face stared for a few seconds before the charred creature began to move. No, not move.

It slithered, with his limbs tightly by its body. It slithered on its belly from the closet, all the while whispering an increasingly sibilant voice. Want, Luke? Want, Luke! I backed up as far as I could, until I was pressed against the headboard of Luke's tiny bed while the charred snaked itself forward.

soon the head and shoulders were no longer visible. I soon lost sight of its pointed white feet as it continued to glide lithely forward. The child was under the bed. I gripped the small mattress with both hands, not knowing what to do. My heart rate was through the roof and beads of sweat had welled up on my forehead.

The mattress jostled as the creature underneath grabbed onto the springs from below, as if it was some deranged bat. The springs of the tiny mountain, just groaned from the extra weight. Slowly, I could feel the movement of the creature as it moved one hand, and then the other, until I could finally see tiny, jagged fingernails appear on the side of the bed. I've never undusted the term, paralyzed with fright.

I always imagined the face with a raging monster or axe murderer. I could easily find the willpower to get my ass in gear and move. But, in this moment, the ability to move had absolutely. abandoned me, and I was forced to watch in silent horror as the tiny dead hand was joined by another. I shook my eyes tight together, unwilling to have that horrible impersonation of a child burned into my retinas. And it was then that I heard it.

John? John, come back to bed. This is ridiculous. The lights clicked on, and as I finally regained the use of my muscles to turn my head and open my eyes, the visage of my wife came into view. John, are you okay? I stared at her for a beat, before I whipped back around to the side of the bed where the hands had grasped to the mattress only moments before.

Nothing. I released the breath I hadn't even realized I was holding. I'm fine, I croaked. All fine. She looked towards me where I'd been staring, not seeing anything. She continued, "'Come back to bed. I can't sleep without you.

It gives me the creep sleeping alone.' She turned and left, her robe trailing behind her. I waited for a full minute, listening intently for any sound. All was quiet. Hesidently, I lowered one foot and then the other to the floor. As I stood up, I fully expected to see a tiny, ragged hand reaching from below the darkness of the bed to grasp my ankle. but none came.

I couldn't bring myself to look under the bed. The possibility of coming face to face with that hideous mockery of a child made me feel sick. Instead, I turned around, walked out the room and shut the door behind me. Back in my own bedroom, with my wife sleeping peacefully beside me, I laid awake for hours, unable to get the face of the child from my mind. Unable to sleep with a fear that I would awake with a small, cold hands wrapping around my throat and that snake-like voice whispering in the darkness. I must have drifted off because the next thing I knew, it was morning.

Sunlight shone through the partially open blinds and birds chirped annoyingly outside the second floor window. I rubbed asleep from my eyes as I contemplated the prior evening. I could not let Luke stay in that room again. Not with that, that thing there. No, I had to do something. I had to protect my son. I grabbed my laptop from where it lay, gathering dust under my nightstand.

The damn thing took what felt like hours to load. When I was finally able to get the dinosaur up and running, I loaded up my web browser and began my research. How to get rid of ghosts. The cursor blinked rapidly as if mocking me. I quickly backspaced and typed DIY exorcism. Okay, that was worse. Cleansing spirits from your house.

That was better. I hit enter. The results were mixed, as was to be expected. But I finally found a few websites that gave me the information I needed. A few hours later, I had a plan, and I had a name. Reginald Ward. The little creature was named Reginald after all. It appears that unbeknownst to me and my wife,

Our home had been the scene of a tragic death of an eight-year-old boy in 1907. Reginald Ward, according to what I found online, had passed away from consumption, or tuberculosis as it's more commonly referred to these days. As distressed as I was to learn that our new home was the scene of a horrific death of a child, I was even more distressed that said child was still in residence. I shudder to think about what had befallen that child over the past decades to turn it into this. This thing. My wife poked her head in the doorway, startling me out of my thoughts. What are you doing?

You've been in here all morning. Nothing, I hedged, slowly closing the laptop screen, so as they're not mega-suspicious. Just looking at stuff online. Okay? She drew out the word, or gave me an odd look. Yep, she was definitely suspicious. I had the thing quickly. Hey, you've seen really stressed lately.

What if I had my mom keep Luke for another few hours, and you had a spa day? Her brows purged up. Seriously, I do say that spa days were the most useless way to spend your money. My smile was tight. It was true. I thought it was an entire waste of money. You literally got nothing out of it. But I had to get her out of the house somehow.

She couldn't be here if I was performing the cleansing. Nonsense, you deserve it. Go ahead, give them a call and set it up. She couldn't help the grin that spread across her face. You don't have to twist my arm, she yelled as she turned and scurried downstairs to make the call. I stopped myself from mentally tallying how much this little outing would cost me and focus my attention back on the task at hand. I felt like I had a pretty good idea on how to get rid of Reggie.

From what I read online, it was better to do the cleansing at night. but I didn't have that sort of time. I had to deal with this now. I made a quick call to my mom to see if she could keep Luke until that evening. After coordinating the time that she could drop him off, I quickly dressed and hurried downstairs. Babe, I've got to run a few errands.

I'll be back in a bit. Okay, I'm headed to the spa in a half hour. They had a cancellation for the deluxe package of the last minute. Isn't that great? I mentally groaned, but pasted a smile on my teeth. tense face. That's great, honey. Have fun. I grabbed my keys and hurried out to my car. 45 minutes later, I walked back into the house carrying my sorted purchases. Claire's car was gone,

so I didn't bother calling out for her. I was all alone. Well, not alone exactly. I carried my purchases upstairs and opened the door to Luke's room. The red curtains were drawn, and the room seemed just as creepy as the night before. The day had turned rainy and dreary, so what a little light came through the curtains gave the room that same, dim glow as the previous night. I shuddered. Shutting the door, I emptied the bag of items on the floor.

I paused to take stock of my hall. A small, wrapped bundle of sticks, I was told us call a sage smudging wand, an abalone shell, a large feather, a container of coarse salt, and a Bible. I pulled up my phone and found the article I had been referencing earlier. I quickly reread the instructions through, just to be sure I had everything correct. I first grabbed the salt and sprinkled the line across the bedroom door.

This was supposed to prevent the spirit from going into another part of the house during the cleansing. I didn't know if this would do anything, but I wasn't taking any chances. Next, I placed the abalone shell on top of the Bible. The Bible wasn't specifically in the individual. instructions, but I figured it certainly couldn't help. Again, I was taking no chances. I walked over to the window and pulled back the red curtain. The rain was really coming down now.

I opened the window slightly. The purpose of this I had learned during my heard research was to give the spirit a pathway to leave the house. I didn't want to get rainwater all over my son's bedroom floor, so I only opened it a smidge. That should hopefully be a number. enough. I pulled out a small lighter from my pocket and flicked it on. The small flame wavered in the semi-darkness of the small room. I picked up the smudge wand and lit the end. Red embers glowed

as the stick caught fire. I quickly blew the open flame out, but the end of the smudge wand continued to slowly smoulder. The red embers causing a fragrant, earthy smoke to emit from the end. I quickly dropped the smouldering stick onto the abalone shell and picked it up along with the Bible With my other hand I grabbed a large feather I was ready I began to circle the room With each step I would use the feather to waft the smoke

blank into the room in that thick earthly smell I continued to circle the room twice more keeping silent as I wafted the smoke permeating the room After three rounds, I spoke. Reggie Ward, I command you in the name of God to leave this place. You are not welcome here and you must leave. I paused momentarily in my path. Nothing happened.

I continued again. Reggie Ward, I command you in the name of God to leave this place. You are not welcome here and you must leave. Still, nothing. I started to leave. walking again. Reggie Ward, in the name of God, I command you to leave... At first, I thought there'd still be no change.

Slowly, I began to realize that there had, in fact, been a shift. I could no longer hear the rain. It was as if a thick layer of cotton had encased the room. The air was heavy and dense. I almost had the feeling of being underwater. I could hear my heartbeat increase. Reggie, in the name of God, I command you to leave. On the word leave, I had a thump from the closet.

I paused in my pacing and stared over at the closet. The door was slightly ajar. Thick darkness enveloped the inside of the small closet. Without removing my eyes from the door, I started again. Reggie, I command you in the name of God to leave this place. Another thump. and then, so low I could barely hear it, a hissing sound, not unlike breath whistling from between clenched teeth.

A deep, long scratching, shortly joined a hissing. Reggie, I command you in the name of God to leave. You are not welcome here. The hissing became louder, and from the depths of the dark closet, a small moaning voice. Duh! The word was dragged out in a hissing rasp. Reggie, you must leave now, I yelled towards the closet.

Don't. The hissing, raspy breath was louder this time. From the darkness of the closet, those two horrible, small grey hands emerged and clasping under the doorframe. John! The sound of my name in that sibilant tongue literally made my skin crawl. John, don't. I did knock. comply.

Reggie Ward, in the name of God, I command you to flee this house. The top of the small, grey face joined the hands. The dark eyes had a weary look. I could have almost felt sorry for the creature, but I did not. Quiet at this time, I again spoke. Reggie, you must leave. Whips of smoke began to emerge from the small hands, as if there was some great internal flame churning.

just beneath the skin. The entity did not appear to be able to speak any longer, only that ragged, shrill hiss filled the air. I watched with trepidation as the hands fell abruptly to the ground. I could see sharp nails gouging crescent into the wood floors as it laboriously began to drag its body forward out of the darkness of the closet. In the light of the storm and in its weakened state, the creature was pitiful.

Gray mothled skin rippled as a smoke drifted almost casually from its surface. The thing lifted its large black eyes to me in supplication. With great effort, it spoke. Don't. I did not have a chance to respond. The smoke enveloped the creature. It swept silently through the open window. I stood still for several seconds before my knees finally gave out.

I had not even realized at all the process. had taken on me until this very moment. I wiped a thin layer of perspiration from my brow as I looked towards the empty closet. It was over. Later that evening, my wife and I sat on the couch, each nursing a glass of white wine. I had not said much after she got home,

and she, relaxed and zend out after a day of pampering, had not pressed. I had not fully processed all that had happened within the last 24 hours. Honestly, I wasn't sure I ever would process it. But to know my son was now safe was solace enough for me.

I took a large swig of the sweet wine and leaned back into the soft sofa. The doorbell rang, and before I could even sit down my glass, the horrid footfalls of my son rushing through the front hallway, reached my ears. Dad, Mom! Luke rushed into the living room

and launched himself at us. Chuckling, we hugged the rambunctious boy as he told us about his adventures with grandma. He was talking so fast. I could only make out every third word. From what I could tell, they had had a boatload of fun making cookies,

playing games, and eating lots and lots of junk food. My mom entered the room at a more sedate pace. Sheesh, Luke, let them breathe, bud, she intoned. I'm going to go see Reggie. I can't wait to tell him about the new puzzle grandma got me. Before I could say anything, he was already bounding up the stairs and giggling with excitement.

My mom shook her head. He could not stop talking about his friend Reggie all weekend. She sat down at the edge of a chair, nix of the couch, where Claire and I still lounged. Well, I have a feeling we won't need to worry about Reggie anymore, I said. My wife gave me a sideways, curious glance, but I ignored it. It was the strangest thing, though. my mother continued without acknowledging my statement. When I asked him about Reggie, he said he was dead.

I know, said Claire, rather creepy, isn't it? Yes, my mother agreed. I thought so as well. But he said that he was his friend and that Reggie protected him from the others. My gaze shot to my mum. What did you say? Yeah, it kind of creeped me out too, she said. He said that the...

The others that lived in the attic were mean and tried to come down and hurt Luke. He said that Reggie wouldn't let them, that he protected him and kept him safe. When I tried to press him on it, he clammed up. A cold chill swept over my body. The others? Suddenly, the rasping voice of Reggie came back to me. Want Luke. Want Luke.

It was as if the floodgates opened in that moment and I fully understood. Reggie didn't want Luke. He was trying to tell me they wanted Luke. The others wanted Luke. Reggie had been trying to warn me. He'd tried to scare me into leaving. He'd tried to help me to protect my son. I quickly set down my wine glass and snatched the blanket off my legs.

Before I could stand up folly, the sound and my son screams met my ears.