CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "The Children of Blackthorn Woods" Creepypasta

Episode Date: April 29, 2021

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by MrDropek101: 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►DejectedSoul: https://old.reddit.com/r/pics/comment...​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/CreepsMcPasta​CREEPYPASTA 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-

I have withheld a secret, a secret so terrible that it cannot possibly be confided in any other living being on this earth, a secret that has gnawed at me for the past seven months that continues the suckle of life out of me with the passing of each day, and now it has consumed my soul entirely. Dreams of that cursed place have certainly played a part, and I find that not even sleep can serve as an escape from the horror that makes its presence known in the back my mind. I have learned that some secrets don't stay buried and they will wait with endless, deadly patience until they get what they desire. I write this in a state of hopelessness

and defeat, but also with acceptance of my fate and whatever fate has in store for me beyond that. I cannot avoid these forces that refuse to rest forever. I brought this upon myself. I must accept responsibility for my horrifying actions. I write this because I simply cannot let this secret eat me from the inside out any longer, and I realize that it is time to open the cursed gates of my soul and let whatever dark poison that dwells within spill out onto this page. Ink has never been so black. I might as well quit dancing around the details,

and finally shed light on what truly exists among the crooked trees of blackthorn woods. This nameless evil does not stem from ancient tales, of ancient entities passed down to the eons, neither is it facts twisted into unbelievable fiction like certain tales. What now dwells within the cursed woods is all too real, and is a direct product of my unforgivable actions. I suppose I should begin by addressing the innocent person who incited the chain of horrors that eventually led to the demise of both us in the long run. If Jonathan Gedney had never stepped foot into Blackthorne, then I could guarantee his longevity, but I cannot guarantee my own either way.

Jonathan Gedney was a college student studying journalism from Gridlock University and had wished to do an article on the history of Blackthorne. Since I am the chief of the pitiful police force of this town, he assumed I would be the best choice to draw information from. The ghost stories that are woven throughout the time, towns passed aren't exactly unknown by the surrounding towns, but attempts have been made to hush them up enough to where clear details are often hazy and sometimes vacant altogether. These hidden pieces of information are what fuels the curiosity of people like Jonathan Gedney,

and therefore they are what brought him to my front doorstep. When he first introduced himself to me, he made clear that he wanted as much information as possible. His goal must have been to write a piece that would contain C-Dorkewere. that no other inquiring outsider had ever been able to attain. I didn't have the heart to tell him that no method of prying would achieve anything better than the fools before him. Hollow dreams of fain and recognition is what he sought ultimately. But no ordinary man could crack open the tomb of secrets that have been carefully preserved by the town itself for centuries. These stories began in the late 1600s when the fear of witches was rampant,

and where many women were executed without mercy. Salem suffered a very similar ordeal, but Blackthorn didn't ever make it to the history books, due to how the isolated nature of the town made it difficult for information to escape. One particular witch stood out among the others, killing more men and children than any other of a kind, and evading capture eight times.

When she was finally bound and shackled and brought to the gallows in front of the leering townspeople, she screamed a ton of curses upon the town that was supposedly heard in the next town over. This period was certainly the darkest stain in Blackthorn's history and many people refused to acknowledge it altogether. However, there was an odd event that occurred

centuries later in the early 1800s that stirred up whispers about certain dark forces that appeared to have the town gripped in their claws. Mayor John Lackley had just been voted into office defeating his opponent, James Fry, Lackley was a man who indulged in fashion And his choice of clothing often served as a strategy To direct attention towards himself

He could often be seen wearing a blue suit That accomplished this without difficulty Lackley's boasts about his achievements were often unchecked So when he went missing soon after the election Many people suspected that he was murdered James Fry took office soon afterwards But many people noticed his increased anxiety and paranoia his mental state only got worse from there

and supposedly he had complained to a few colleagues about strange reoccurring nightmares that wouldn't release their hold on him a week later he was last seen walking quietly towards the woods and it was also strange to the townspeople that he never once stopped to acknowledge anyone who send a greeting in his direction he was never seen again

these old tales could have peaked to get in his interest yet there was a specific story he specifically asked for. At the mention of it, I immediately became overwhelmed with raw fear, twisted with panic to form a shapeless mass of emotion that pulsed within my heart. He asked with such innocence, not knowing the full weight of his words on my fragile shoulders. Tell me the story everyone wants to know, he said. Tell me about the children of Blackthorn Woods. Somehow I kept my comfort.

composure, and I was quite proud that I was able to answer him without a trace of nervous quiver in my voice. I politely refused, attributing my unhelpfulness to a lack of knowledge in the subject, even though I knew the story better than anyone in the town. He persisted, and even went so far as to request my presence as a guide for a trip into this haunted wood itself. He explains his intentions as wanting to be able to, quote, experience the atmosphere, so he could better describe it in his peace. At this, I declined a bit more forcefully. The thought of those woods alone gave me chills to the bone,

but to step foot in them was a new level of horror altogether. I swore seven months ago that I would never grace those evil woods with my presence ever again. However, Jonathan Gedney was not easily dissuaded. He pleaded with me, almost, saying that it wouldn't take long, that we would be in and out before I knew it. I think he sensed my fear of that dreaded place, even if he didn't fully understand where the fear stemmed from. I am not proud to say that I complied sooner than what I would have wanted. Already, I was viewing Jonathan Gedney as a personal curse, sent from the maniacal gods of fate

that were laughing hysterically at my expense. I tried to convince myself that maybe this arrogant youth was right, and maybe nothing bad would come from this trip into the woods. Witnesses later said that they saw us approaching the woods and half past six, the sun casting its blood-red glow over the silent town as it began its slow descent. As we walked toward the looming tree line of Blackthorn Woods that waited silently for us, I began to fill Jonathan in on the series of horrors that shook the town to its core seven months ago. I began by explaining what the woods served as for the majority of the majority of the world. of the children who grew up in the quiet town of Blackthorn.

The children would attend their classes at a small secondary school during day, anxiously waiting until dismissal. Then the rest of the evening was spent in the woods, where most of the children would congregate and play games together in the dying light of the sun until the street lamps flickered on, effectively calling them home. Parents trusted them and trusted that they would be safe. They had no reason to think otherwise. What exactly happened? Nobody truly knows.

Afterwards, most people assumed it was an accident that it was a wild rabies-crazed animal, because no other evidence could be found except for a blood-soaked tatter of clothing. As for the children themselves, the only eyewitnesses to the horror that occurred within the woods, no information could be pried from their lips. This was what drove my own curiosity to new depths, and it is what made me question the true cause of what happened. If it was merely an accident, why were the children so damn quiet? What was preventing them from spilling the details of a killing they had nothing to do with?

I had no proof of any other explanation, but I could not let this case close completely. I was driven by a need for justice for the victim, and I would do anything to attain it. for the victim was my very own son. His body was never found, contributing to the theory of a wild animal attack. I suspected that one of those evil children had killed him, and one certain child came to mind. Vincent Bradford, an ever-present shadow upon all the other children's lives, ruled the schoolyard out of fear. He was a bully, simply put, and the full extent of darkness within his soul was unknown. He was unpredictable and some of his teachers had expressed concerns about his mental health.

I believed that he could be capable of murder, even if it wasn't intentional. A sharp stake in the ground, a shove and a twisted root sticking out to the ground could be enough for a recipe for disaster. But, as I have stated before, I have no proof, and therefore my theories fell upon deaf ears, and I was forced into silence. The parents of the children were soon reassured by sweeping of the woods for wild animals which revealed that whatever fanged monstrosity had dared to approach the children

on that horrible day had vanished and the children were hesitantly allowed to return to the woods once again a second tragedy struck the town immediately after which proved my earlier theories invalid despite the search for any traces of wild animals within Blackthorn Woods

a second child disappeared the same way as the first This child was Vincent Bradley And upon learning the name of the victim I was forced to disregard the possibility of him Being behind the murder of my son This time the children were less restrained when it came to the details of the event As if something that had previously compelled them to withhold information and lifted its hold on them and therefore loosen their tongues

Although this was a good sign their statements soon proved to be just as used for as when they had refused to say anything at all. The most common shred of information that we could derive from their absurd descriptions was that they'd all witnessed, quote, a tall man and a boy with black eyes. Take Vincent in some violent manner that was too terrible for them to put into words. Afterwards, the children were sit in silence with white eyes,

refusing to say another word. It was clear that whatever they had truly seen, it had scared them on another. level deep enough for the experience to be traumatic. But the horrors had not yet relinquished their hold on the town, and the horrible climax transpired in silence. The children returned to the woods once more, but that would forever be known as a fatal mistake.

For all of the children vanished without a trace this time, leaving the town reeling. This time there was doubt that a wild animal was responsible. The possibility of children getting lost was also deemed unrealistic, by the town as the chances of the entire group getting lost at once was near impossible, which raised a burning question that has never left the mind of all the grieving parents since that day. Who or what could be responsible? By the time I'd finished telling Gedney about the horrors intertwined with Blackthorns past,

we'd entered the haunted woods themselves, which seemed to be the heart of every tale this town had to offer. The woods were a chilling place for anyone, I realized, as I watched Gedney's uneasiness increased by the minute. The woods were a scene from a nightmare. The ground was littered with broken and with the toys from the lost children. The only witnesses to the terrible events that had occurred in those woods. The picture was one of quiet abandonment, dirt smud smudged teddy bears with their eyes or limbs missing. Cracked wooden soldiers lying forgotten on the cursed battlefield among the overgrown weeds, and old toy cars

that had no one left to push them along the cursed soil. Gedney was oddly silent throughout my retelling of the stories and he captured photographs with a manner of urgency as if now that he was finally in the woods he wanted to be out as soon as possible.

I too was nervous but for reasons he couldn't have known. Bringing up the topic of those children had also brought back all of the fear that had been overwerews overwhelming my mind ever since it had happened. I had been trying to force the thought of those children out of my head for a long time,

and now that I was facing it head on, I became aware of the nervous tremors that were making themselves known along my spine. Gedney eventually broke the silence by asking a few questions, which was expected, considering he was there to write an article about the town in the first place. He inquired about if there were any new leads, to which I answered. in the negative.

I was visibly tense at this point, and my level of nervousness was only climbing higher, which contributed to the horrifying scene that unfolded next. I come now to a point where it is hard for me to recall the events that followed, not because they have slipped from my memory, but because they have been deliberately bricked up in the vault of my mind to prevent me from going mad. Even now, I wonder if what I saw was a delusion. triggered by the extreme act that I committed.

I certainly hope so. But as I now review the horrible sight that I beheld, I can't help but to realize how the pieces fit together in a way to suggest horrors beyond my comprehension. If what I saw and assume from it is true, then Blackthorn Woods must be an entity of evil in itself and should be avoided at all costs. In my defense, my mental state was not at a doubt.

its best due to the chilling atmosphere of that cursed place. My paranoia was at dangerous levels, and it is what ultimately caused the death of an innocent man within Blackthorn Woods. Jonathan Gedney had been asking me a series of questions that made sense for the article he was aspiring to write, and his last inquiry was one of innocence as well. He simply wondered out loud if the children could have possibly been murdered. What we both didn't expect? was my response.

My paranoia, anxiety, and fear all swelled to a point that proved to be too much for my sanity. The next few moments were a blur. Yet, as I remember every detail that followed, I remember his wide eyes staring into mine, his expression of shock mirroring my own, his hand clawed feebly at his throat,

and then I realized that he was trying to pry my hands away without success. I was strangling him, horrified that I was doing so, yet I couldn't stop. He knew. Somehow, he knew, and I couldn't let him escape those woods. He would tell, I knew he would, because he knew. I killed those children seven months ago. Their blood is on my hands, and no matter how many times I wash them, it never fades. I killed them, but I never meant to.

All I wanted was to identify whoever committed. to those cursed acts of murder within those shadowed woods. I knew it was no animal that took my son away from me. Anger overwhelmed me that day when I silently ventured into the woods and confront those children all at once. Anger is what killed as children, not I. Anger at the silence of this secretiveness. They knew what happened and they refused to tell me.

How is any man expected to withhold his agony of being unable to find his son's killer? Of mercy. Mercy cannot be given to those who do not give answers to a grieving father. Mercy will not be given to a man who might know a murderous secret. I am not certain how long I stood over Gedney's limp body in the silent woods, my sanity struggling to knit itself back together. Twilight had settled over the town, and my eyes struggled to see my surroundings clearly.

Perhaps it was an illusion that occurred next, for my state of mind was not at its best. But even if it was so, it doesn't explain the persistent dreams that haunt my mind in the dead of night. The first hint that I was not alone any longer came in the form of rustling in the undergrowth to my left. I started rather violently, so deep into my twisting thoughts and emotions that I had quite forgotten where I was. The rustling slowly became more prominent and I soon realized that it was also coming from the opposite direction as well. Before long, it seemed as if the entire area was alive with movement in the undergrowth. I waited anxiously, with bated breath, to glimpse whatever was emerging, oddly curious rather than afraid. It appeared suddenly, sniffling and grunting as it blindly groped his way out of the undergrowth.

Its movements was slow and jerky, like it wasn't quite familiar with its own form. My first perception of it was an animal of sorts, judging from the way it walked in all fours. Its pale skin was stretched tight over its bones, and, as my eyes viewed its face, I had the strange sensation that I was dreaming all of a sudden. My impression that it was somehow blind was evidently correct, for two black sockets stared at me from where the eye should have been. When my horrified gaze shifted to the lower half of its face, however, My sanity fully departed once again, and the rest of the events are hard for me to determine whether they were real or not.

I have mentioned already that I believe that this episode could have been a delusion, and those who read this after I disappeared will most likely determine that it was nothing more. This is understandable, because to try and accept that these events are real is to accept the onslaught of madness itself. I often think that I am mad. And if I am, I shall also state that madness is bliss, compared to facing the horrors that dwell within Blackthorn Woods. The mouth, if one could call that appendage such a thing,

was a protruding mass of flesh and gums, with yellow teeth bursting cautiously from the opening. The opening of the jaws were positioned vertically, possessing a haunting similarity to a grotesque version of an insect's mandibles. They open and shut with a wet-sounding snap, strings of drool dangling from the opening. But the most terrifying aspect of the creature was the way

it somehow appeared human. I'm a slow down now and choose my words carefully. The most human-like quality about them that brought upon a fresh wave of horror was the fact that the creature was wearing clothing. An incredibly non-animistic attribute. But what's in my mind spiraling into confusion and panic was the clothing itself.

It was wearing ripped, dirt-stained children's apparel, like something that a young student might wear. The thing crawled slowly across the soil, sniffing curiously at Jonathan Gedden his body. But a moment of confusion swept over me as I noticed that the undergrowth around me was still rustling. Even then, the true horror came, and I was unable to contain the scream of fear

that burst unforeseen from my lips. The woods were alive around me with movement, and soon I was able to see why. Where the first thing it had emerged from the undergrowth, more were now following suit. They scurried like overgrown rats, a writhing mass of pale bodies dressed in children's clothing. The wet snaps and clicks of their jaws I shall never forget. And it is that sound in my endless nightmares that causes me to awaken in a mausstream of terror in the dead of night. I stood among them, paralyzed with fear. None of them fully took notice of me, for which I'm grateful.

Instead, they seemed to be focused on curiously exploring the body of Jonathan Kebney, which I'd forgotten was there in the light of the other events which had taken place. One thing that sparked my curiosity was that one of the creatures was the same in appearance, yet it was considerably larger, and it were a faded blue one. outfit that might have once been called a suit. Shock caused through my veins as all of a sudden they began to feed. Their mandibles clamped tightly on Gedny's arms and legs, tearing strips of flesh from his body with horrifying voraciousness. But the true shock came a moment later when a long groan split the air, and I watched as Jonathan Gedney's eyes flashed open to behold a nightmare.

I realised then, with yet another wave of unspeakable horror, that my attempts of strangling him must have only succeeded into sinking him into unconsciousness. I think Gedney would have screamed then, if it had not been for the large portion of his throat being torn out by one of those hellish demons at that moment. This time, I watched as his life drained from his body in a torrent of red. He reached out for me in those last moments with a tense hand. his tendons straining against the tort skin his eyes pleaded with me

his attacker to save him he wanted me to save him how could I save him and I couldn't even do the same for my soul oddly the humanoid creatures didn't seem to have the slightest interest in me at that moment they were entirely focused on their prey and even when they sometimes turned to stare at me with their hollow sockets though cast in shadow

the gaze seemed cast with curiosity rather than hostility. Nonetheless, I felt a creeping chill along my spine whenever they looked at me, which came with the overwhelming urge to flee. Yet, I could not move. I was frozen, watching the horror unfold with my disbelieving eyes. One of the children stood up suddenly, and it was horrifying to see the creature behave so human-like. It stared at me with the same interest as the others, but its gaze lingered much longer.

Its mandibles clicked as if it was attempting to speak. The guitaral sound that came forth from that hideous appendage broke the spell that had been rooting me in place, and I scrambled out of those forbidden woods in a blind panic. I don't remember much after that, but I think I made it back to my home safely, because the next morning I awoke in bed, as if the entire episode had been. been nothing but a terrible dream. But I soon recall the syllables uttered by that childlike being in the woods the night before, and I abruptly sank into a fit of delirium that did not release his hold in my exhausted mind for several hours. I swear upon Jonathan Kedney's body

that the word I heard produced from those horrible mandibles of that childlike monstrosity was, Daddy? That night will forever be engraved in my memory and the conclusions that I drew from the things I witnessed still threatened to overwhelm me in madness. I cannot explain what Blackthorn is or how this creature's came to be but I can guess at what dwells within.

I must only hint at what I believe the terrible truth is for your sake. You must know the truth so that no other soul becomes lost those cursed woods. Burn them, if you must, but never go within to face the horrors that reside there. Blackthorn Woods, a parasite that is buried its roots deep within Blackthorn's soil, feeds on those who are far too gone. It hunts the souls who have destroyed themselves with guilt, and it feeds on whoever else meets an untimely end within those woods.

It is always waiting, like a spider in its web, for a soul to wander along unsuspicely. and fall into the tangle of horrors that soon prove inescapable by mortal means. There is a space. One might call it a net of sorts between life and the afterlife, and this space is called Blackthorn Woods. Weak souls are taken advantage of, and trapped forever in a state of constant restlessness and hunger for vengeance. I have now become entwined with the black magic of that cursed place at the edge of town, and I accept the fact that I will sacrifice my soul to the inevitable fate of Blackthorn Woods. I now wonder if those woods grow stronger with each feeding,

because ever since I left Jonathan Gedney to the mercy of those creatures, my reoccurring nightmares have grown unbearable. I see those children that I murdered all those months ago, and sometimes their faces blur between their mortal features and the twisted black-eye mask that Blackthorn Woods has given them. My son stands with them, and I have even glimpsed kidney among their numbers. And the blue man lingers in the background, his hollow sockets, leaving no excuse for the centuries his witness come to pass. The gridlock police are questioning me.

They wonder where the missing college student has gone. They do not suspect me yet, but they will eventually. I know it. I have no happy endings, no matter what path I take. they wait what is any mortal man to do in my place under such compelling forces that continue to render humanity defenseless

to its curse I go to them today I cannot take another night of the dreams I am on the wrong side of this curse as James Fry was all those centuries ago I have confessed and still the dreams do not relent which must mean that my fate is unavoidable

I must go today and when I do I shall face those cursed children that hunger for my soul my son shall be there and I believe that Jonathan Gedney now waits for me as well who knows where a killer's soul goes

but there is no time to speculate I can hear them now calling my name in a dreadful whisper calling me to their final domain the moment has come and as I write my final words upon this page I realize it was never to go further than this my fate was predetermined

there is no other explanation I've always belonged there I belong to the children of Blackthorn Woods