CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "Please Stop Believing in Cryptids" Creepypasta

Episode Date: October 23, 2021

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by Dremantis: 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►by Andréa Boloch: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Kr...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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That is Shopify. combe. cryptids have been a hot topic for many centuries at this point, with a recent resurgence in interest, especially as of late. In fact, it may surprise you to know that every single popular story, even the ones you pretend to believe, is real. Every mythical monster, spectral spirit, and a barren aberration you've ever heard of is real. It is the job of my order to hunt down and put these creatures down. But it's because, becoming worse by the day, and all of it is humanity's fault.

I'm not referring to climate change or man-made disasters, or anything like that, to cause these creatures to become more aggressive, or anything like that. But it is, inherently, man's fault. I've been given special permissions to reveal to you all the foundation of my order, and a few of the hunts I've been sent on, in order to convince the world to stop believing in cryptids. Otherwise, we won't last much longer against the tide of the night. I beg of you one and all, listen to this through to the end and heed my warning, or all may perish. The order I am a part of was founded in the far-thong past.

You all may be familiar with the concept of belief manifesting itself in human life, as is a common belief for some cultures, but is known to most. Believe that money and fortune will come to your life, and it will, etc. What I'm sure most of you don't know is that this idea has been around for far longer than anyone might think. The founding of my order occurred in the time of ancient Greece and the birth of the Roman Empire, as a group of philosophers had theorized and discovered the power of belief. These philosophers theorized that human belief could manifest many things, from material to immaterial, be it non-living or fully sentient.

It mattered not the nature or intelligence of what we were. manifested, and I suppose in our own way, humanity is almost godlike. There was, however, a caveat to our mind manifesting power. The true limit was based on what people believed, and how many believed it. The basic concept would be that for a thing to manifest in the entity that is made real, multiple people would have to believe it, having the same characteristics and or powers. For instance, the gods themselves. Yes, to answer bluntly,

the gods of every single religion to ever exist were or are real. Only due to human belief though. I've met multiple versions of each major religion's god or patriarch god, each with varying degrees of power. But for all they could or couldn't do, they were still never exactly how pictured, or nearly as powerful as the holy text may describe. In essence, if the world came under one grand religion and there are no different sex or denominations, and everyone believed this god, looked one way and had these powers etc we could manifest an actual all-powerful all-knowing deity so now you know the scale of what this power or curse some might say humanity has can do now think of what cultures all around the

world have in common myths legends urban rumors ghost sightings and more now think of the amount of people who fear and believe these things less than the people whose culture is a part of, for sure, but not an insignificant number. I'm guessing you know where I'm going from here. Cryptids are real, and it's our fault. Don't get me wrong, not all cryptids are malevolent, some are cooperative and benevolent, and some act as profits for those who know where and what they are. Nessi, for instance, is cooperative, benevolent and prophetic. We've monitored her for a while now. ever since we found her really.

We've done her best to ensure her concealment from a public eye, and she lets us monitor her in the lock, as well as saving people from drowning in it when she can. She hibernates for one whole month before the first major chill, which is almost like a reverse groundhog, as soon as she lays her head down and doesn't get off for a day or two. That's our first sign of winter in Scotland. The Mothman is another prophet,

and some mistaken him for malevolent. That has proven a difficult trial to overcome for our agreement with the Mothman. We've also agreed to conceal his presence from public eye, and in exchange we get a strange kind of feeling and glimpses of images whenever a disaster is about to occur. It's always jarring, even after the first time, and knowing what to expect, to get a message from Mothman. I could go on, but we get the idea.

Maybe later, if you were once, I could recount some of the stories from my heart. some of the stories from my hunts. But there are two in particular I wish to share with you all. It will help prove my point as to why you should stop believing in cryptids. The Wendigo are creatures of Native American culture,

malevolent shades, taking over a human body, causing them to go feral and insane, devouring human flesh and never ceasing in their hunger. In myth, they are typically quite pale and emaciated, looking more ghostly than human,

but still retaining their humanoid form. I've hunted one such creature before, and it wasn't easy then, and it hasn't gotten any easier. The preparation for this hunt was extensive. We acquired the aid of a medicine man, an older gentleman whose name I couldn't pronounce at the time, so he told me to just call him John,

as it would be easier for me. At the time, all we needed were some powerful tranquilizers and the ability to fight the creature until it was subdued. John had described to us the power of the Wendigo, how we could hold a grown man down and rend the flesh from him with little effort, and, while the tranquilizers would weaken it, we'd need at least three other strong, well-trained men. I gathered a few other hunters, known as P, the marksman, A, the swordsman, and Theta the support,

and together with myself, equipped with a spear, and John bringing his trusty shotgun, we ventured into the territory suspected to belong to the Wendigo. The medicine man was exceptional in tracking down the windigo by some sort of scent. I later learned how to pick up myself, the unmistakable scent of a vile curse. I won't even attempt to tell you the smell a curse gives off, as I can hardly describe it myself. But for those who know how to trace and track a curse, you know the scent. We trudged through the forest as quietly as we could, though John was as a specter, seeming to hover above the ground in his quietness. He made no orderly noise, and he seemed to glide through the wood with relative ease.

The rest of us were accustomed to the hunt and stalking our prey, but couldn't quite move like John, and Theta was the greenest among us, also the loudest. I think that's why he was the one. Halfway into the Wendigo's territory, I took note of Theta's disappearance, as though he had vanished into thin air. I approached John and gave him a small hand signal. We all stopped dead in our tracks. The only trace we had that Theta was ever even there was his revolver lying in the dirt.

His medical supplies, and most importantly the sedatives, were gone with him. I muttered curses and spat far words under my breath of the creature we hunted, but took solace in the fact that it would soon be dead. We moved more carefully in the darkness of the undergrowth, John having a flare at the ready at all times since the disappearance of Theta. Windingos have an aversion, a weakness to fire, he told me, but they can be harmed by most means. Fear not and keep your wits about you. John continued to glide across the forest floor towards the scent of the creature,

but even those of us not well versed could smell decay and death on the wind. We were almost certainly approaching the creature's lair. The ground around the cave mouth that served as the creature's lair was saturated with blood, old and new. and took on a frigid, damp quality. Even the air seemed to almost freeze around the creature's lair. Though, without a word, we all understood that this was the creature's home, where it had brought Theta, and that it would also become its tomb. We all made sure our preparations were absolute before entering the cave mouth.

John made sure he had a shell racked. He made sure he had around in the chamber of his rifle. A and I checked our weapons to see they were sharp and ready. We could hear a ghastly mixed howling and almost hissing noises coming from deep within the cave as we made our approach. And John handed each of us a flare. With the loss of our sedatives, our new plan was to blind and frighten the creature into confusion and subdue it with bullet and blade in its panicked and less cunning state. As we made a way deeper into the cave and the noises made by the creature became louder and more blood-chilling,

as a stench of rotten death almost became overwhelming. John turned back and nodded to us all. We popped the flares. We rushed away into the antechamber of the cave, the Wendigo's lair, and he stared up at us in surprise, started the way from its never-satisfying meal, the latest victim of the Wendigo. Theta. He was mangled, bones broken, marrow-eaten, and the visage of pure terror and endless sadness stuck on his face and death.

His chest had been torn open. as the creature had been devouring everything inside and outside of him. Seeing the state of our comrade pushed us onward into the fight with figure and veracity, the Wendigo shrank away from the approach of the fire of the flares, as we fanned out into a semicircle. We all dropped our flares around the Wendigo, encasing it in a cage of fire. P and John nodded to A and myself, and we stepped into the ring of fire as the former stood without. I approached the Wendigo with caution and dexterity,

Spear pointed out in front of me and body close and small while A approached with strength and confidence sword pointed at the Wendigo in a stance that could be offensive or defensive The Wendigo scuttled slowly back in the corner of a fiery cage backing up to the cold stone wall as it hissed and snapped at us

But we fanned out an approach From the sides As soon as the Wendigo had no further ground to give It was like someone had dropped a match into the gasoline All hell let loose P and John fight hatred in the form of lead into the Wendigo

P hitting the Wendigo square in the shoulder as John hit its centre mass with two slugs A let fly a swing meant to hack off the monster's arm the rest of the way from its shoulder that P had hit but it ducked taking a glancing swipe to the back as it scurried on all fours to A

and took out his legs I'd become charging the creature before A had made his swing and I reached him in time stabbing into the creature's ribs as two more shots rang out and hit the Wendigo in places I couldn't quite tell, and it howled an awful howl, like a woman in pain mixed with an oak's cry. A had begun recovering his wits and breath as he took his sword and managed to drive it into the Wendigo's shoulder,

leaving one of its arms lying limply to the side as he wrenched it upward, sending the arms sprawling away from his body. Wendigo tried to claret A with his good arm and snapped at him, ever-hungry jaws yearning for fresh and supple flesh. I yanked my spear out, tearing chunks of rib and rotten flesh with it, as I stabbed his arm down to the ground, effectively pinning the creature. A. took his sword and stabbed it through the creature's eye, and shoving hard. The arm broke under the force and bent in an unnatural way, as the Wendigo turned to lie flat in its back, with his arm still trying to face the way it had been when he was on its stomach.

A. kept his hand firmly in the sword, as the Wendigo struggled weakly against our restraint, and he planted his legs firmly between the creatures. Though not much had been done on our accounts in reality, the creature's frigid aura and the force required to ponder its body and severed limbs left A. myself more tired than we should have been after only a minute of fighting, and through a few panting breaths, A managed a snarl. We have it pinned, remove the heart and let us be rid of this monster. John came over with some sort of intricately designed knife

and pierced the chest of the Wendigo, slicing the blade down its torso and dragging the knife down to its stomach as he reached in to remove the heart. Just about the only thing to still survive the rotting curse of the Wendigo's body other than its bones. Keep it there, he said,

rushing out the cave. It may not seem so, but it still lives. Only after I burn its heart will it truly die. And so, A and I waited. It was only a few minutes, and we never relented in our restraint of the Wendigo. Thankfully, we didn't, as his jet-black eyes became wide when it realized its heart was being burned.

It screamed and fought and kicked at A, with all the force its broken, battered body could muster. A, obeyed to the kicking of the monster as best he could, and P-fied a few rounds into the thing to reduce its struggling with his deadly accuracy. After a full thirty-second struggle against the thing, he let out one more haunting streak and fell limb. straight black eyes fading to a pure, milky white. This, I assure you,

is the more interesting of the two tales I have to share with you this night. More recently, the image, power and strength of a Wendigo has begun to change with popular stories and such. The modern depiction of Wendigo has antled humanoid with deer skulls, black fur, nine pervious bodies, black blood, and filling the air with a scent of copper is both inaccurate to most legends, and a pain in the order's collective ass.

There's only one thing that we found that actually works in the damn things that you all fabricated. Toxins. Extremely potent toxins. Ones that are not only difficult to get a hold of, but difficult to manufacture. P&I was sent on a mission after a success for the original Wendigo.

A. didn't come along this time because the plan was much simpler as I had a shield and a small crossboat. filled the thing with sedatives and neurotoxin until it fatigued itself enough to have its heart burned. The neurotoxin was there to prevent its struggle when we burned its heart. By this point, I'd learned how to detect a curse upon the wind, and we had tracked the thing deep into the wooded valley in the Appalachians. This thing was faster than the original Wendigo we fought,

and truth be told, when we first glimps the thing we thought we were dealing with some sort of messed up Sasquatch. But, of course not. The belief around the Wendigo had changed, and so did the creatures we now hunt. P and I managed to catch the thing running through the tree line ahead of us, and I dashed in front of P to form a vanguard and distract the creature, while P filled it with toxins and sedatives. The thing barreled into my shield at almost lightning speeds, and I had no clue what had hit me,

but it thrashed around the edges of my shield, trying to get in my delicate vitals and head. I'd been prepared for a good amount of force, like the original Wendigo, But this thing almost knocked me under my back. I held in pain as it clawed around my shield, weakening my weapon and my shield arms, knocking my hand crossbow out of its holsters away from me, and almost breaking my shield arm and two with the impact. He stayed calm and started firing dart at a dart into the creature at suspected vital locations.

Most of them blinked off the creature like he was wearing some sort of armor. The actual hell is wrong with this thing! I cried out to pee, unsure of how long I could withstand the assault. I don't know, gamers reply, but I have an idea. Hold on for just a little longer, M. And I heard the dull pop of a cork bottle. I pried my weapon arm loose at the creature's grip and reared back for a thrust on my spear. But the spear just barely drew any blood on impact.

This seemed to drive the creature into a frenzy, and he began gaining ground on pee and shovel me back. I heard an extremely loud gunshot go off, as P fired his high-caliber rifle into the thing. The bullet managed the pier's flesh, deeply enough for the creature to feel it and howling pain. P pulled the bolt as the halving kicked up into a fever pitch and prepared another round,

firing into the creature's shoulder this time. I expected it to have weakened the creature like the previous Wendigo, but it seemed to just tick it off even more. Pee told me later that he had coated those bullets in the sedative and neurotoxin, and had simply hoped it would be enough. If it hadn't been, we would have both died. I felt the assault began to listen against my shield and body,

and I tried to drive the creature back. But it was like trying to move a mountain with nothing but a shovel. I did manage to seize its charge forward, though, and I jabbed it a few more times with a spear, puncturing deeper into the gash I had already made. P, bring me the damn vials! I cried out as I screamed a war cry and continued to jab the creature, running almost purely on adrenaline.

P, being the superhuman marks many years, took stock of the situation, and instead quickly ran to my hand crossbow, attached the uncork vials by some string to the bolt loaded into the crossbow, and fired at the creature. The bolt itself seemed to have no effect on the creature, but I reached up around the raffle, unabating claws of the creature, and smashed my spearhead against the vials, coating the tip in glistening painful death. I reared back and shoved the creature one last time, before thrusting my spear into the I had made deep, thrusting almost sent a mass deep into the creature and wrenching my spear

inside of it. It howled and reared back, swinging full force into my shield as it sent me flying into a tree, stunning me for a few moments. The creature was slowed by the earlier efforts of pee, already having sedative and neurotoxins inside it. It tried to clamor towards me, but it seemed that I had hastened the effects by forcing so much toxin so deep inside of the creature. The charge with me sluggishly, slowing down even before the charge had fully started,

and only getting slower as it progressed. It collapsed and tumbled forward a few yards in front of me, and, would later find out, and died there. No ritual, no burning of the heart, nothing needed to kill it. It oozed black, goopy blood as it lay there dying. Consciousness failed me shortly after it. collapsed. The next thing I remember is waking up in the infirmary in the Ordis headquarters in North America one week later. I had, in fact, suffered broken bones and ribs,

shock as well as concussion that put me in a small coma. My spine still doesn't feel quite right after my encounter with that damnable creature. Shortly after this incident, many other hunters came up missing, confirmed dead, was severely injured by many powerful creatures, more powerful than either of their previous counterparts or any cryptid to come before it. I was tasked by the order to help convince the world to stop believing so strongly in cryptids, or at least to believe in the original myths, and was given special permissions to reveal ourselves in order to do so.

And so here I am, recounting to you, one of the strongest gatherings of people who believe in these creatures, my tales and my orders. I beseech you all Stop believing in cryptids I'm not sure how much longer We can hold them back