CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "My uncle used to own a farm. I wish I’d never set foot in that place" Creepypasta

Episode Date: August 5, 2020

What lies in the fields? CREEPYPASTA STORY►by DrGhoulboi: 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►Maciej Laszkiewicz: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/gJ...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-

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and let me find out of your way. Start today not your gratis-proof-periodes on Shopify.b. That is Shopify. When I was a kid, I used to love visiting my aunt and uncle's farm. While my parents chatted to them about boring grown-up things, I was allowed to go outside and play. At first, I had to stay close so that they could keep an eye on me.

But as I got older, they let me go further afield. I was thrilled. The farm was my playground, and finally I could explore it. I would go down to the field and watch the cows, try my best, not always successfully, to avoid stepping on the cowpats. Then I'd sit on my uncle's tractor and pretend to drive it. Sometimes I'd explore some of the derelict buildings. Imagine what they might have looked like when they were new. The farm was pretty old, so there were plenty of crumbling structures for me to explore, all with my uncle's dog by my side.

She was aboard a collie named Bonnie And she loved her adventures as much as I did She would sprint around the buildings and fields Although never straying too far from me Energetic but fiercely loyal This was the happiest time of my life But that would soon change It was one of our regular visits

The grown-ups were chatting inside the farmhouse as usual and I was off from one of my adventures. This particular day I decided to explore the main barn. It wasn't anything exciting really. It was just the biggest barn of the property where they stored the hay for the cows. The hay was covered with the tarp to protect it from the elements

and weighed down with all tractor tires. There was so much of it that it formed a small mountain in the middle of the barn nearly touching the high ceiling. After some time I had finally plucked up the courage to climb this mighty mountain Using the tires as footholds I finally reached the peak

Taking a moment to survey my surroundings And appreciate just how high I'd climbed Then I heard something Scratching coming from behind me Slow but deliberate I turned towards the back wall of the barn And peered down the other side of the mountain A figure, painfully thin, crouched in the corner.

It had its back to me, and I could see every vertebrae, every rib, in sharp contrast to the pallid skin shrunk tight to the bones beneath it. Long, lank hair dangled from its head, covering the figure's face as it slowly dragged its ragged fingernails up and down the wall. Scritch, scratch, scritch, scritch, scroo. I stood there for what seemed like an eternity, frozen in terror, just watching this thing clawing slowly at the wall. Scrooitch, screech, screech, screech, scree. Bonnie growled from the entrance to the barn. She had refused to go in with me, and now I knew why.

Suddenly, the figure snapped his head around. I could finally see its face. if you could really call it that. It was so emaciated that it was like looking at a living skull, grinning madly. Except, I don't think it was alive. It stared at me for a few moments,

its wild eyes gleaming with malice, savoring my unbridled horror. In the blink of an eye, it started to rapidly crawl up the mountain towards me. I turned around and ran down the other side of the mountain, stumbling over the tires. In my panic, I twisted my ankle, but still I kept running.

The thing was inhumanly fast. I could hear its ragged, labored breathing in my ear, and feel its ranted breath in my neck. That thing could have caught me then. I'm sure of it. But it didn't. I ran out of the barn, screaming and crying, hobbling on my injured ankle.

My parents, joined by my... my aunt and uncle came outside to see what the commotion was. The barn, the barn, was all I could stammer out, still wheezing with tears streaming down my face. Seeing that I had hurt my ankle, my parents decided to cut the visit short and take me home. That was fine by me. I wanted nothing more than to get away from that place.

But as we were leaving, I thought I saw a glimpse of something on my uncle's face. It was fear. About a month went by before we went back to the farm for another visit, partly because my injured ankle and partly because my parents were busy. During that time, I started to doubt what had happened and what I had actually seen. My parents always said I had a wild imagination. Maybe they were right.

So, when the visit started again, I was ready to continue my adventures. Although, I still wanted to avoid the barn. That place gave me the creeps now. Little did I know, my adventures would never be the same again. On my first visit back, I saw it again. I was exploring the milking shed, and there it was, lurking in the darkened corner, crouching amongst the dusty, broken equipment which had been left to one side, staring at me hungrily, grinning through yellowed, jagged teeth.

No matter where I went on that damned farm, I would see it, peering out from behind the dilapid buildings, standing motionless in the cowfield, even crouching in the dark doorway to the barn. Even when I couldn't see it, I could hear it scratching at the walls, here it's ragged nails scuffling against the ground behind me, here it's loud and excited breaths.

I could feel its malevolent gaze upon me, boring into my very soul. It followed me everywhere. Always watching. Waiting. I tried to find out more about it, to see if there was anything I could do to stop it. I looked through so many websites and books.

I sent messages to paranormal investigators, demonologists, and anyone who even remotely claimed to have experience in the paranormal. I even visited a shop in town that sold spellbooks, crystals, charms and the like. Nothing helped I felt so alone That thing even haunted my dreams

Every time I closed my eyes about to drift off the sleep I would see its grotesque face grinning at me Those eyes so full of hate Snatching me away from blissful slumber I barely slept And on the rare occasions that I managed to fall asleep I dreamed of being chased When it caught me, I was ripped from limb to limb, feeling the thing crunching my bones and feasting on my flesh.

Every night, I experienced this horrifying death, waking, drenched in sweat and shivering. My schoolwork started to suffer. It's kind of difficult to pay attention in class when you're exhausted from lack of sleep. Plus, I was spending all of my spare time researching this thing rather than doing my homework. My parents and teachers were baffled by this sudden change But how could I possibly tell them? I decided to stop exploring Opting instead to stay in the house with my parents

I'd never seen the thing inside the house So I thought I was safe I would bring a book to pass the time All the adults talked about boring grown-up things Everything seemed fine for a few weeks There was no sign of the thing and I'd become a bit of a bookworm. But I guess it got tired of waiting.

After drinking too much lemonade, I was bursting for the toilet. Usually, I didn't like to use the bathroom at my aunt and uncle's house. It was cold and smelled kind of funny. But this time, I just couldn't hold it. While the grown-ups continued chatting, I shuffled up the creaking wooden stairs towards the bathroom. treading carefully along the narrow hallway. I thought I heard a faint scratching

coming from inside the walls. As I passed the open doorway to the spare room, I heard a thud. The faded curtains were closed, but in the dim light, I could see that a stack of papers had fallen off the desk. I walked into the room, bending down to pick the papers up off the worn carpet.

The thaw was illuminated by a small patch of light from the open doorway. The patch of light seemed to shrink with every passing second, the shadows eager to engulf me. As I stood up, I saw the door slowly closing, threatening to trap me

within the darkened room. I thought I heard the quick, excited, breathing of something unseen. Unnerved, I hurried back into the hallway and darted into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. Sitting on the cold-tired floor with my back against the door, my heart was hammering against my chest. I sat there until my breathing slowed and became less panicked.

A few minutes later, I cautiously emerged, pausing in the doorway to listen for the scratching. Silence. A sudden move out of the corner of my eye drew my attention to the far end of the hallway. There sat the aged spiral staircase, which just the old, led up to the dark attic. I thought I saw Bonnie's tail disappearing up into the shadows. Strange? She always stayed away from the attic.

My uncle said the floorboards up there were rotten so she wasn't allowed. Neither was I. Slowly, I climbed the stairs, calling Bonnie's name. I needed to get her back before she hurt herself. As I entered the dusty attic,

I could barely see a thing. Cautiously, I walked forward past the boxes full of long-forgotten treasures, cobwebs brushing against my face. In the far corner, I thought I could make out a shape. Something crouching. Bonnie? Come here, girl. It's not say... Screech, scroach, scroach, scroach.

That's not Bonnie. It was then that I noticed claw marks in a thick film of dust on the floorboards, as if someone or something had been dragged. I started to back away when the thing darted forwards, scuttling rapidly towards me. In my haste to get away, I stumbled and fell. It was so close I could see the gleam of its hungry grin in the darkness. This was it? I had no doubt.

Suddenly, a clammy hand grabbed my shoulder and dragged me back down the stairs and into the light. It was my uncle, pale and shaking. We need to talk, kiddo. I sat on the moth-eaten sofa in my uncle's room, still shaking from my encounter in the attic. He sat across me in his worn, leather armchair, taking a moment to pour himself a whiskey. There was another farm, you know. gruff, Yorkshire accent suddenly broke the silence. Back in the thirties, my mum and dad bought the place from some bloke.

It was a few miles north of here, said they got it for practically nout. Guess he wanted rid of it. Now I know why. He took a sip of his drink, staring thoughtfully out of the window behind me. Growing up there wasn't easy for me and you dare. It was in the middle of nowhere and miles from the nearest school. In them days, we had to walk to school through wind. wind, rain and snow.

I left school as soon as I could so it could help out on the farm. But your dad stuck with it. First and the family to finish school. He was clever, no doubt. But I think he wanted to spend as little time as possible on that farm. Didn't mind all that walking if it got him away from there.

See, there was something wrong with that place. Our parents dismissed it, but me and your dad could tell something wasn't right. No matter where you went, it felt like something we're watching you. We could always hear a faint scratching coming from the walls. Mam said it were just mice. We knew that wasn't true.

The noises and feeling of being watched were even worse in the barn. We hated going in there. Always try to leave as soon as possible. One night, me and your dad stole some beers from the kitchen. After a few, I got the bright idea to find out what was going on in that barn once in for all. Your dad knew it was a bad idea. Try to stop me. But I wouldn't listen.

I grabbed a hammer from my dad's toolkit and staggered over towards the wall where the scratching was loudest. Desperate for the noises, the torment to end. I started hitting the wall and prying away the wooden planks. Dust and splinters were

flying everywhere. Your dad was begging me to stop, but I was in a frenzy. I didn't stop until my arms started to wake, my hands bloody from the splinters. I'd managed to make a pretty big hole in the wall. Standing among the debris, I started to realize how much trouble I'd been in

when my dad saw the mess. Then the dust cleared. And I saw it. A dead body. The police came and asked us questions. We didn't mention the scratching. Just said it was stupid drunken antics that led me to smash up that wall.

After all, we were bored teenagers and the police seemed satisfied. They told us that judging from the clothes and jewelry, it were a woman. She must have been there for a long time, because she was just a skeleton by the time we found her. Her fingers were damaged, and there were scratch marks on the wooden planks which had once covered her body. She had been walled up in there, alive. The scratching noises that had plagued us for so long finally made sense. The police never caught a killer. They couldn't track down the previous owners of the farm,

and they didn't have much to go on. Besides, they reckoned she'd been killed before the First World War. An all case like that weren't much of a priority for them. They never figured out who she was either. No missing persons report matched. They reckoned she was a runaway who ran into the wrong person. The sight of that poor woman's skull grinning at me from inside that dark, terrible place

plagued my nightmares from that night onwards. But I hoped that now she'd been found, the noises would stop. Maybe she just wanted to be found and put to rest. The noises didn't stop. In fact, things got worse, much worse. The scratching throughout the house and farm buildings got louder and more frenzied. It almost seemed angry.

We started finding scratch marks on the doors and under the beds, as if she'd be trying to get at us while we were sleeping. At night we would hear blood curdling and raid screams coming from the barn. Our parents said it were foxes, but I don't think they really believed it. Then we started to see that thing lurking around the farm. First time I saw it, I thought I was done for, but it just followed us around, no matter where we went. taunting us, watching hungrily from the shadows.

Each time we saw it, it edged closer and closer. I have no doubt that it was that poor woman we found, starving and looking for revenge, and she was toying with her food. One day, my dad came stumbling out of the cow shed, white as a sheet, eyes wide and darting everywhere. He wouldn't talk about what happened,

just told us the stouther. Stay inside the house before shutting himself in the bedroom with a bottle of whiskey. I never saw or heard those cows again. The next day, we left that damn place for good, staying with her aunt Vera for a few weeks. Dad only went back once to burn down that cow shed. We didn't sell the farm, didn't want to burden anyone else with that curse. We just abandoned it, left it to rot. I doubt anyone would have bought it anyway.

Rumors had spread around the village like wildfire. Then we found this place. Moved in straight away and started fresh. It seemed like we'd escape that thing. The noises stopped and we never saw it again. But I still felt uneasy. I always felt like something was watching me. After your dad moved out and our parents died,

I was glad to have my wife here with me. I don't think I could stand living here alone. Now, I know we never escaped it. It followed us here, and it's been waiting all these years. Until now. She's found a new victim to pray on, and she won't stop until she catches her prey. My uncle put his head in his shaking hands.

After a few moments, he took a deep breath and raised his head to look at me. This place ends safe for you. you anymore. He sighed. You can't come back here again, kiddo. She nearly got you today. Next time, she'll be quicker. I nodded, trying to process everything I just heard, dread weighing heavy on my chest. Uncle rose to his feet and started guiding me towards the door and out of his office. Don't worry, I'll make excuses to your parents so you can't visit again. Just as I was about to leave his office, he stopped me. Let's

keep this between us. I don't think your dad remembers any of this. Either that, or he convinced himself it never happened. Bringing this up again, would break him. My parents and I left shortly after that. As uncle said, he needed to get back

to work. That was the last time I set foot in that place. From then on, we only saw my uncle and aunt when they came to visit us, or when we went to the pub for lunch. Whenever Dad suggested we go and visit the farm, Uncle said he was too busy, or not feeling well.

Last year, my aunt and uncle sold the farm and moved into a little bungalow. They said they were getting too old to continue running it, and they wanted to spend their retirement in a smaller place that was easier to manage. The company they sold it to bulldozed the farm and built a couple new houses on the land. By then, years had passed since my encounter with a thing at the farm, and it had all seemed like a distant memory. Until now. A few days ago, my uncle passed away.

The doctor said it was a heart attack. It was sudden and none of us expected it. My aunt, the one who found him, is distraught. I went to visit her yesterday to check up on her. her and see if there was anything she needed. After picking up some groceries and making us lunch, she handed me a small envelope. It was addressed to me in my uncle's careful handwriting. My aunt said she had found it that morning in uncle's office, sitting on his desk. Wanting to read it alone, I left the bungalow and strolled over to the new housing development

where the farm used to be. I sat on a bench, the neatly kept houses and opened the envelope. It contained a note which simply said, She's back and she's hungry. My heart leapt into my throat, terror freezing me in place as memories of that thing came flooding back. I sat there for what seemed like an eternity.

My eyes fixed to that little scrap of paper. I slowly raised my eyes to stare at it. eyes to stare in horror at the house before me. In an upstairs window, I saw it. A thin, pale figure grinning down at me, scratching against the glass with ragged fingernails, staring hungrily. So, so hungry.