CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "Our town holds a dark ritual every year. I messed up one of their ceremonies" Creepypasta

Episode Date: July 30, 2022

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by Jgrupe: 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►Evan Tortorelli: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/q9...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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When we moved into our apartment on Sycamore Street, the neighbour next door told us we were very lucky. She couldn't understand why the former tenants had left, since our unit had the best view in the building. Our balcony overlooked a strip of forest where deer can sometimes be seen roaming. The woods extend up an escarpment and white stone cliffs can be seen beyond the trees. There's also a cul-de-sac to the left of the forest, which dead ends at a path leading, into a large park filled with green space. Every year the town has a fireworks display in that park and our balcony has an ideal vantage point for the display,

much to the dismay of our cats who cower beneath the sofa during the festivities. But despite the stunning views afforded by our balcony, I've discovered another sight. This one not nearly as pleasant as the forests and fireworks and cliffs in the distance. much like the fireworks display in the park, something else happens once a year in this neighbourhood,

down in the cul-de-sac off of Sycamore Street. I just happened to notice it one night, completely by accident. Since I work the night shift, I'm often awake at 3am on my off days, and sometimes even later than that. I once heard that 3am is the witching hour, whatever that means. It was just around that time

and I was getting ready to go to bed when I glanced out the window to take in the view before going to sleep. What I saw down there on Sycamore Street unnerved me. It gave me nightmares and made me mark the date in my phone

when it had happened as if to confirm to my future self that it wasn't just a nightmare I was misremembering as reality. I looked down onto the street below and took in every detail. My heart pounding fast in my chest. For several long seconds, I couldn't breathe.

There were people down in the street carrying torches, walking in pairs. They had long red cloaks which hung from their shoulders like capes. Huts of the same crimson colour shrouded their faces in darkness. As I watched the pairs of people holding torches, I tried to think of possible reasons for this behaviour. Was this a late-night prayer service for an obscure sect of Catholicism or an orthodox religion of some kind? The pairs walked slowly in a procession down the centre of the street, ignoring the sidewalk.

They turned left onto the court and marched to the very end of the cul-de-sac and made a ring of flames around his perimeter. A circle of people stood at the end of the street holding their torches and staring blankly into the centre of the road. Another person began to draw with a sut of their torch on the asphalt, making a large black symbol in the midst of them all. Then they started to sway and chant rhythmically, moving in hypnotising circles around the dark symbol.

I couldn't see much from the window, so I opened the door to my balcony as quietly as I could, and stepped out into the night air. It was hard to see anything, except for the robes and flickering candles. I could hear their chanting voices rising up in volume. A moment later, they began to move again, marching in procession into the house at the very end of the cul-de-sac.

After they went inside, they didn't come back out. I stayed up for hours and observed the home, until the sun rose and my wife came out asking what was wrong. Nothing, just admiring the view. Why are you staring at that house? It's creepy. Go to bed. It's 9 a.m.

Have you been awake all night? I thought about telling her what I'd seen, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I was worried she would think I was losing my mind. It certainly didn't sound like something that would happen in this quaint little town we'd moved to. It seemed like something out of a horror movie. I went to bed and tried to forget about it, but couldn't.

And when I woke up and walked down the street later on, whatever symbol had been drawn on the pavement was gone, as if it had never existed. Over the next year, I couldn't help but recall what I'd seen again and again. I didn't tell anyone, but I looked at that date reminder on my phone regularly. I also checked online to see if there was some religious significance to that specific date of the year, but could find nothing aside from the fact that May 16th is apparently National Sea Monkey Day, Nickel Day, and Supply Chain Professionals Day. And none of those seemed to explain what I'd witnessed.

It was gnawing at me all year And as the date approached in my calendar again I couldn't help but wonder if what I'd witnessed was a yearly event It reminded me of druidic or pagan rituals And I thought maybe it would occur again on the same date the following year And if a better look at the symbol could explain anything I wondered if I could see something if I could get closer I decided to try

So that night, after a year of waiting, I went out into the forest beside the cul-de-sac, wearing all black clothing and a ski mask for good measure. I probably looked like a criminal casing a house or burglary, but I didn't care. I just needed to see what was going on, what was really happening on Sycamore Street. I stood out there in the forest, watching quietly as the street. remained empty. Afraid someone might see me if I did anything, I remained motionless and resisted the temptation to check the time on my phone. The moon above was pink and ominous, hanging bloated in the sky. A rare lunar eclipse had occurred around midnight, and the sky still looked faintly purple

and bathed the neighborhood in an eerie familiar glow. After a long period of waiting, I almost began heading home. But then, just as I was about to leave, I heard voices rising up under the night air. A low humming chant and flickering torches bobbing up and down could be seen emerging from behind the houses

adjacent to the forest. A procession of road-hudded, hooded figures made their way to the end of the cul-de-sac, then made a ring around the end of the road, in much the same way they had a year-price. Only now I was much closer, and could almost overhear what they were saying. I decided to creep a little closer, moving as quietly as I could through the forest, being careful not to step on any twigs or branches which would signal my location.

A figure was drawing a symbol in the centre of the road again, scraping the burnt torches end across the pavement and leaving a black mark behind. The others hummed and chanted rhythmically, moving in slow circles around him. Someone was leading a young woman dressed in white towards the centre of the ring. Who are these people? I whispered to myself so quietly I could barely hear it. And yet, they seemed to hear it very well. One of the hudded figures who was much taller than the others spun around and signalled in my direction,

whispering something to the others. I was terrified to see several of them go down on all fours like animals, dropping their torches and scurrying off into the darkness like dogs, sent to track a fresh quarry. They moved within human speed, their cloaks fluttering in the wind behind them as they raced into the woods, heading straight for me.

My heart skipped a beat and my breath caught in my throat as I froze, momentarily stunned into inaction. After what felt like, hours, I managed to convince my legs to move and began to run, no longer caring about the sounds my feet made or the keys jingling in my pocket. My apartment was not far, only a hundred yards or so, but those things were fast, and they caught a large head start. As I ran, my skin was scraped by passing thorn bushes. I ploughed through shrubbery, leaping over logs and fallen trees, tripping to the ground and stumbling back to my feet, too terrified to look back.

With only a few steps to go until I reached the parking lot, something grabbed me roughly from behind. I was dragged screaming through the forest by something stronger than any man. I was pulled towards the ceremony, still in progress. Whatever was holding me was powerful, his hands wrinkled with age and his face shrouded in darkness. Large black talons protruded from the ends of its fingers And I wondered if this thing had once been a man

And if so What was it now? You were not meant to witness this event A hooded figure said once I'd been dragged into the roadway You have not been initiated yet It was a woman speaking She was the tallest among the group Her crimson robe fringed with gold

As she spoke She produced a long curved knife from the folds of a robes. Give me your hand. I couldn't move. I didn't want to move. The knife looked very sharp. She nodded ever so slightly to the robed figures on either side of me

and they grabbed my hand holding it out in front of me as I screamed. My mouth was quickly covered by a strong hand. The woman began to carve something into my palm, blood welling up in the incision. until it made a pool of red, which she had to mop away so that she could finish. All the while my screaming was muffled by the men around me, holding me tightly. Horrendous pain jolted through me all the way up my arm as she dug the point of the knife into my flesh and worked slowly to finish the symbol.

When it was done, she closed my fist tightly, allowing the blood to drip down onto the asphalt of the street. It looked like the symbol. drawn in charcoal, now highlighted with shades of red from my blood. It was an enormous millipede, wrapped around the centre of the earth. The ground began to tremble and shake beneath our feet like an earthquake. Everyone around me stayed still, but I was terrified and tried to run. The pavement started to crack beneath me, and I tried to move away,

but the acolyte of this strange secret society held me tightly to prevent me from fleeing. Bear witness, you are now one with us. Behold the many-legged God. The woman screamed, the earth breaking open beneath her to reveal a black chasm of unfalienable depths.

Let me go, I cried out, biting the hand of the man who was muffling my screams for help. I kicked his shin, elbowing and thrashing and trying to get away. I don't want to be a part of this. They all gasped as a huge insectile face began to appear from beneath the correct pavement from within the dark abyss.

No, he cannot be allowed to speak. Silence, he'll ruin everything. The woman cried, he mustn't refuse. But it was too late. Whatever was meant to happen was no longer going to happen as they planned. I guessed that I was meant to be a sacrifice for this huge millipede which they worshipped as a deity, but I needed to go willingly, or at the very least, silently. And now the beast was furious at their insolence. Choose me, I'll be the sacrifice, one of the acolytes called out. I'll do it willingly. The massive millipede emerged from beneath the ground,

appearing to be the size of a subway train, then a freight train. But it never ended. It just continued to grow in size. each lumpy section of midnight black thorax driven by a huge, disgusting set of hairy legs. Its freakish body repeated over and over as it climbed out from the dark abyss. Its mandibles clicking loudly as it eyed the figures in robes bowing down the street. Despite its size, it moved quickly, snapping the head off the one man and sending a found-in-a-blood into the air,

then consuming the rest of his body in one bite. It gnashed his teeth and chittered with hunger. The rest of them began to scream, realizing the ceremony to appease it, had failed. Elbowing the other robed figure holding me, I managed to break away from the group, running from their midst.

I felt a few hands reaching out to grab me, the fingernails digging into my skin and leaving long, bloody marks on my forearms. But I got away, slipping madly away from them with a berserk fit of fight or flight that I hadn't known myself capable of. Looking back over my shoulder, I saw the robed figures being tossed into the air like ragdolls and landing in the mouth of a huge, many-legged worm. Cars were upended and driveways caved into the abyss.

A huge crack followed me as I ran, the pavement still splitting wider from the girth of the ever-emerging Millipede. Once back inside my apartment, I locked the door in every way possible, barricading it with a chair for good measure. I pulled the curtains closed, afraid to look outside, afraid that the worm would consume the world. The morning after, the local news reported the event as a sinkhole. Nothing was mentioned about anyone going missing or being injured or even alive by giant millipedes. no deaths were reported no national or international coverage was done despite the scale of the disaster

as if everyone in town knew not to say anything even the media it was as if the whole thing had never happened aside from the caving hole in the ground at the end of the road what the hell is going on out there

my wife asked grogly pulling up the shades and gorking at the window She gasped at the sight of her neighborhood in rubble. A sinkhole, I told her. A very, very large one, according to the news. It's amazing we can be hiding beneath us just under the surface. A gaping hole waiting to swallow us all up. Don't be grim.

Well, so much for a nice view. They'll be doing construction out there for weeks. I gently pulled the blinds closed again, my hands shaking with fear. I couldn't help, but feel as if the rooker out there was watching us, looking up at us from the scene of destruction. They looked angry, and they looked afraid. Whatever that ceremony was,

I don't think it was meant to be interrupted.