CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "The Rats Of Stragview Prison" Creepypasta

Episode Date: September 23, 2020

WANT MORE FROM THE STRAGVIEW PRISON? "The Stragview Prison Curse": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zabxf...PLEASE CHECK OUT THE AUTHOR'S LATEST BOOK► https://www.breakingrulespublishing.c...MORE BOOKS HERE► https://www.goodreads.com/author/show...CREEPYPASTA STORY►by Erutious: 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►Bartlomiej Gawel: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/xz...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-

Trade Plus. Betal no more than 5.50 per ride. So, coop new Train Plus for more 4 euro per month. On NMBS.B.E. Yo, that I'm in three days. I'm a moor as I'm more on think.

Oh, that dossier that morning off must. I'm all mooh as I'm just on thinking. Oh, from the night at a pedal tournoe. Oh, I'm all moose if I're not on think. Have you it mollick to come? Give yourself then a boost with biocure maxhot liquid.

Three opepending plans. I've been an energy booster to make sure to come back shot liquid fooding supplement forcragmaid by the apotheker I've been working

on the Strangview Work Squad for about a year Working is the best way to make the time go by At least that's what I thought Before I'd been arrested for aggravated assault I was a landscaper's assistant

I ran the mowers cut the bushes and moved mulch and sod in the hot sun for fat cat clients that had the money to pay for landscapers. If it hadn't been for that bar fight, I'd have probably gone right on doing that for the next 20 years until I finally blew my brains out.

Now, I get to do it for the next five years until I'm up for parole. If I live that long. Stragview is a big, old prison that's been around since the early 40s. It's split into two sections, the outer ward and the inn award. The two are separated by a gate called the middle gate, and traffic between is heavily monitored.

The outer ward is for housing. It holds six open-bay dorms that will like big summer camp cabins. They house around 100 guys and hold a series of bunk beds for them to sleep on. Next are three big concrete block buildings that house the close management guys, two-man cells in a series of 40-man squads. Amongst it all sits the foreboding concrete and steel. edifice that sits behind barbed wire fences and has the unfortunate look of being the Stragview confinement unit. Aside from some offices and the canteen building that serves as

our source of junk food, the rest is just grass and sand and concrete paths. That's a lot of grass to cut in the summer and a lot of places for the snow to blow in the winter. The inner ward, what lies beyond the middle gate, are the buildings that often serve as job sites. The chow hall, the medical pavilion, the classrooms, the library, and visitation area are mostly concrete and sidewalk and don't require much work from my squad of me. These are the places that are frequented by admin and are usually best avoided if you can help it. The majority of our work takes place behind the middle gate. We're all sitting on the north pavilion, drinking sodas and eating snacks,

while the officer in charge of our squad came walking up. Sergeant Henderson was one of the best squad officers we'd ever had He's not too strict But not too lazy either Something which tends to get us yelled at by the major He was fair to us

And that made all the difference For men trapped behind the fence He looked worried As he came walking towards us And Darius One of the other guys on the squad elbowed me as he walked up And shook his head

Sarge doesn't look happy about something this does not bode well for us. How right he was. Listen up, guys. Word from the warden just came down. He wants you guys to clean out the tower before quitting time. We all groaned. The tower was a crumbling concrete behemoth

that stood in the dead centre of the outer ward. It had existed since the early days of the prison but was now a derelict monstrosity that officers used that house broken furniture and old records. The place was also quite. crawling with rats, and they were supposed to be territorial as all hell. Inmates did not stray too close to the tower if they could help it. The rats would pop out and bite your ankles and chase you if you lingered too long.

There were stories about them killing people and dragging the bodies off to be eaten, but that was just talk. Every few months, an exterminator spread poison around the outside and sprayed harsh chemicals to keep them from coming out, and that was about all the prison did. to curb their advance. No one dared go inside, and anything that needed to be stored in there

was done before sundown. None of us wanted to go into the tower, but the order had been given, and to refuse would be an easy way to get sent to confinement. We all took due precautions before going inside. The shed we kept our stuff in had thick rubber boots and gloves,

ventilators and leather smocks that we used when hacking back thick weeds or clearing brush that might have snakes. The get-up was likely to be hot. The tower had no AC. By the time Henderson called it quits. We were sure to be covered in sweat and tired to our bones. But at least work squad paid well.

A dollar an hour for up to 12 hours and we'd be able to buy something nice at the canteen when we were done. Six of us trudged off to the tower just before lunch was called. The line of inmates walking to the chow hall, jeered at us as we walked. They called us dead men walking and rat chow as it was pretty obvious where we were going. They joked about us feeding the rats but I could tell that they were relieved too. They were relieved that it was us and not them going into that spooky old tower. The tower held an almost legendary

status in their minds and it was better us than them who had to go into it. Before we knew it we were standing. in its shadow. The tower stood about five stories tall, roughly 50 feet. It was really only a ground floor and a top deck for observation, but the inside was the tall expanse of empty space. From the top, I figured you could see the whole compound, but I'd never been up there.

When the prison was founded, this was where the rifleman stood and watched all the ants on the ground for signs of trouble. Now, it was just a relic, something that reminded people of the good old days and a home for the multitude of rats that lived there. When we walked in, the darkness was heavy and oppressive as the sun fought its way through the dusty windows.

Sarge flipped the switch next to the door and the overhead light, a single-string bulb buzzed the life. It shone for a half-second before exploding in a shower of sparks and glass. The room was once again bathed in darkness and the light coming through the door seemed unwelcome in the menacing darkness. We could already hear things moving around in the miasma of broken junk.

The skittering and chittering of many mouths were a little unnerving and we started dragging the stuff closest to the door out as Sarge called down for some standing lights. It was mostly desks and heavy furniture that had yet to start falling apart. As we moved it,

I could already feel the sweltering heat sinking in. The furniture began to pile up outside, and as the lunch crowd filtered back into their dorms, we were all plastered with sweat and huffing on the lawn. Sergeant Henderson looked not too comfortable either, his uniform shirt clinging to him as he tried not to let the sweat stain show under his arms. When the lights finally arrived, so did a tractor with a trailer. The desks began to be hauled away so they could shove them into the incinerator. Some of the desks seemed to be okay.

but most were ruined. They had been broken, some split along the legs and others bowed and sagged under years of use. It was clear that some had been in much better shape before they had gone into the tower.

The legs chewed and the top covered in pee and droppings. As they came into the sun, you could see the slimy leavings all across the desk's simulated woodtops, and I felt gross even through my gloves. The number of saved desks were made, minimal, and most seemed destined for the incinerator.

With a light set up and bathing the inside in a hazy glow, we began to work deeper into the tower. The deeper we went, the more rats we found. Under every shadowy crevice and in every yawning drawer, there was a little cluster of them waiting to be discovered. They weren't horror movie rats, but it's pretty startling when something comes jumping at you out of the dark when you least expect it. As we moved the desks We broke up their nests They were little collections of paper and wood That housed families of rats and mice

Just waiting to be discovered They came hissing out at us And slapped against our aprons and ankles Like furry bullets The thick gloves we had Kept them from biting us But they still fastened on our hands And had to be shaken loose

Just the act of being bitten was horrific And several of the guys Started refusing to go back in after the first hour. The mixture of hazy, dark and loud, angry animals was putting them on edge. It took all of Henderson's interpersonal skills to keep us working. Even so, there were mutinous whispers the whole time. Slowly but surely, we got the floor cleared.

As the furniture began to disappear, the rat started to flee. They ran out the front door, ran up the stairs to the top of the tower, and even squeezed through the crummy floorboards, and disappeared below the tower. After a particularly fat rat wriggled through the boards, I bent and peeked through the slats into the inky darkness. I couldn't see much. It was black as pitch down there.

What I thought I saw was something that reminded me of water. I heard the current, the rustling of many feet, and stood back up and tried not to think about it as I moved soggy cartons and threw them into piles of trash. A rat river. An ever-flowing stream of black-ford bodies? Floing... where? I wish I had remained ignorant. It all started when Sam went missing.

Sam was a big guy, simple but strong, and he'd been moving around like a tractor in low gear all day. The big blonde farm boy had been moving desks with ease, laughing when the rats had bitten him and throwing them against the wall with relish. in prison for assault like I was, he had grown up on a farm, and rats were probably no bother to him than a fly.

I was moving a big old desk made of genuine mahogany when Darius stepped on a rat. He yelled, just as the rat squealed pitifully, and when he went down, the leg of the desk snapped, and the desk fell on his leg. The crunch was audible, and he started screaming immediately.

I tried to ride the desk, but it took three other men to find. only get it off Darius. His leg was a bruised mass of purple flesh, the bone quite obviously broken. Henderson came running over, and when he saw the leg, he swore loudly.

Medical was radioed, but no nurse would willingly set foot in the tower. In the end, Wilbur and Reggie lifted him onto an old canvas stretcher that someone had pushed into the corner, and they took him to Medical, Henderson in tow. He stopped just long enough to lock the gate,

and told Clives and me to stay in the lawn until he returned. Then he huffed down the sidewalk as Darius screamed and the other two tried not to jounce him. That left Clives and me standing in the lawn in the tower's shadow, sweltering in the sun as we baked in our leather aprons and rubber gloves. That was when I realized that Sam was missing. Where did Sam go? I asked no one in particular,

looking round. curiously. Clives only shrugged at my question, leaning against the tower and basking in the shade. He was an older white guy, over 50, and he'd been with the work squad the longest. He acted as a straw boss most of the time, something we let him get away with because of his age. Today, I really wished he had helped to take Darius to medical and left someone else to sit here with me. The guy was worse than useless, and before my eyes. I watched them fall asleep in the warm shadow of the tower. I started looking for Sam,

walking around the tower to see if maybe Sam had decided to nap somewhere outside as well. A quick trip around the base told me he wasn't there. I returned to the front lawn. Clives now snoring comfortably and looked at the gaping mouth of the tower. He must still be inside, but I didn't see how that was possible.

He would have surely heard, Henderson calling everyone out. He certainly hadn't decided to take a nap in there. That would be a death sentence. The longer I stood there, the more I knew I would have to go inside. I took a hesitant step, growing bolder as I approached the door. It yawn like a mouth, the darkness unaffected by the daylight that held sway outside. I stuck my head in first, looking around the now clear button floor and seeing no one.

I glanced up at the spiral staircase that led to the observation area Surely he wouldn't go up there That was very clearly out of bounds And Sam wasn't prone to rule breaking like that That's when I saw the rubber foot Silhouetted in the harsh halogen light It was laid on its side Moving ever so slightly

The owner hidden behind a small collection of desks Still to be moved I couldn't believe it Sam was sleeping in here with all these rats. I knew he's a big dumb farm boy, but that sounded like a great way to get chewed on. I walked over to the desk, ready to wake him up and drag him out to the lawn,

but recalled in horror as I looked over the desk. The green rubber boot had a leg in it, that was severed at the knee. I fell back against the wood planks as I stumbled, and when my arm went through the rotting floor, I felt wiry fur and then hard ground. Something bit my arm then, and I pulled it free with a quick little jerk. The ground beneath the floor was dirty, covered in rat droppings and crunchy with the desicated body of old rats.

As I watched, I saw a flurry of rats scurry past the opening. There wasn't much room beneath the boards, but the skittering masses didn't seem to need much. The dragon grew my attention back to the desk and the leg, and I could see it disappearing around the corner. corner of the desk even as I watched. I sprang up, the idea of the rats dragging what was left of him down into the earth was suddenly too appalling, and I sprang over the desk to chase it away. I came over the desk in a rush and found an absolutely huge rat dragging the leg away.

It reared up at me, as big as a good-sized cat, and covered in dark fur, and I backed away hesitantly as I assessed my stance. I reached for a broken-off two-by-four, laid across the desk, and swung it at a bristling creature. It ran then, tail-bobbing, as it dropped the leg and ran for whatever hole it had come out of. That was when my cockiness got the better of me. I ran after the rat, brandishing the chunk of wood and running after it as it fled in terror. I heard his smaller cousins run as well, and I swung the piece of wood around my head.

head as I wooked and ran after them. They had been a constant terror this whole afternoon, and now I was getting so much-needed revenge. I should have counted my losses and went back outside. I would soon wish I'd called in sick that day and stayed in my bunk. When my foot sank into the wood this time, I tried to pull it out to give chase. Instead, it sank to the thigh,

and I was left squirming to try and get it loose. The big rat stopped running and turned to a prey me with speedy eyes. I swung the wood in his direction, but he was out of range, and he knew it. I squirmed and struggled, trying to free myself,

and when I heard the wood splintering, it didn't register right away. It wasn't until I was falling, that it sank home how much trouble I was in. I free fell for a few seconds. The air dragged out of me as I plummeted into the darkness.

When I hit the stone walls of some ancient shoot, I found my back being scraped as I smacked against it again and again. The wood tumbled out of my hands as I fell, and, after 30 seconds of falling, I worried I would simply fall forever.

Like Alice down the rabbit hole, I would fall until I found the floor. Unlike Alice, I would likely not survive the fall once the floor found me. I landed on something soft about five seconds later. It knocked all the wind

out to me when I landed, and sharp little spurs poked into my skin. I could feel blood, oozing from the wounds, but they didn't seem to be too bad. My leg still worked, arms too, and as whatever I'd landed on began to wriggle, I rolled under the floor. I assumed I had landed on a rat warden. The spiky barbs must have been the wood they'd scavenged for their homes, but when I rolled off, I quickly scrambled away when I saw what I'd landed on. The light from above fell on a massive rat, as long as a sofa and just as big, that lay wheezing out its final moments. I had broken its bones when I landed on it,

and its black and grey fur was riddled with bone spurts that had popped free when I landed. Its single yellow eye rolled to meet mine, and I could see its profound confusion as it breathed its last ragged breaths. I took a shaky step back, still transfixed by its staring eye when I started to hear the scuttling of many feet across the stone floor. I turned to the nearest tunnel and ran, not wanting to see what other horrors lived down here. I ran through the dark pretty much at random.

The tunnels were pitch black as I put the light from the first room behind me, but I had a smaller light that I used to see my way. It had survived the fall somehow, and I held my hand in front of it as I ran to not put it out. The tunnels juked and curved as I ran, taking myself deeper into the rat's lightless world. As I ran, I became aware of a strange scraping noise from up ahead. It sounded like hundreds of claws scrambling on stone,

and I knew at once that I did not want to see what was making that noise. The tunnel left me few options though, and I knew what lay behind me if I turned back. The sound got louder as I approached, slowly and carefully as I walked toward it. The floor became slippery the further I went, and my feet crunched when they came down on something brittle strewn over the tunnel. A look with my lighter revealed small animal bones, probably rats, and some of the schools are big enough to have come from large dogs. As for the sudden wetness, I couldn't tell. But the terrible smell that accompanied it may be not want to investigate too closely.

I came out of the tunnel and into a towering cave a moment later and found the source of the scraping. The light had dropped out of my numb fingers but I had seen all I needed to see in the flickering illumination. I crouched down, hands scrambling, hoping beyond hope that whatever it was

hadn't seen me. I knew it had. In this lightless place I might as well have been carrying a bonfire. I could see it's thousands of eyes. glaring at me in the darkness, and their hate was enough to freeze me in my tracks. The Leviathan despised me,

despised the intruder into its kingdom. As I searched for the lighter, I could hear it scrambling on thousands of legs towards me as it moved its book across the floor. When I was little, I had an uncle who had been an exterminator. One night, while he was babysitting my brother and me, he had told us a story about something called

rat king. Not some pressing mouse of the crown, like we'd seen in that Christmas play. This was a group of rats whose tails have become hopelessly entangled to the point where they can't escape each other unless they chew their own tails off. He had spoken of dozens, maybe as many as 30 rats, strung together in a writhing mass. He had told us about collections of creatures that had become one creature, living as a symbiotic mass. I remember my brother and I sitting an awe of such a creature. As I found and sparked the lighter again, I saw the mass of rats. They were a hundred thousand strong, and many the size of mastiffs with tails like coils of rope.

The one in the centre, though, he was absolutely massive. He stood at their core, eyes like semi-headlights, as big as a small elephant, and his hissing cry sent shivers down my spine. He was at the centre The tails wound to him And despite his size I realised he was too massive To move without their collective legwork

They shied away from my flame Their sensitive eyes dazzled by the sudden intrusion And the shrieks were enough to drive you mad As they fled Backpedling on their thousands of legs I caught a glimpse of another tunnel That snaked out behind them I didn't know if that tunnel led to freedom

or a fate worse than this. But I didn't care in that moment. As the massive rat king floundered backward, I sprinted for the tunnel and didn't look back as I ran through the blackness. I was still running when I saw the daylight ahead of me. I'd been running flat out for it felt like hours, and as my eyes registered the return of some kind of light,

I kept right on running. The air became less oppressive. My eyes adjusted to the light's return, and I stopped suddenly as the late afternoon sun greeted me from the mouth of a small cave. I moved out cautiously and it was a good thing I did. I was soon looking out over a precipice that looked down into an old gravel pit that the prison had operated at one time. I had to be a mile or so outside the fence, bruised and bloody and bone-tired.

I considered sleeping there until morning. One look back made me think better of it. it. I climbed to the top of the pit, no easy feet, and walked back to the perimeter of the fence. A post vehicle stopped me, an old hatchet-faced sergeant pointing his gun at me as I tried to explain what had happened to me. He zipped-tied my hands and put me in the bed of his truck, driving me back to the prison's front gate. When I was pulled out by a couple of unhappy officers, they led me straight to the security building, saying someone wanted to talk to me. I had expected that I would be punished

that I would be charged with escape that I would be transferred to another facility or sent to confinement I never expected to be taken to the warden's office It was well after dark when they sat me down But the warden looked resplendent as usual In his pinstripe suit and little gold room glasses The guards unshackled me as they sat me down

And then simply left me alone with him He slid a couple of people of something hot to me, and I drank the coffee happily. It tasted heavily after walking through the cold, and he let me get halfway through the cup before he spoke. The warden was one of the odder characters at Strague. He'd been the warden for as long as anyone could remember. He had a mysterious way about him that made inmates uncomfortable.

No inmate wanted to speak with him, not even the new ones, and he had never once been attacked or accosted in his whole time with the departures. So, I understand, you've had quite the trying day, he said, smiling. I nodded, sipping at the coffee. So, how was it that you came to be outside the fence? I told him about my fall through the floor of the tower, how I'd seen the rats in the tunnels, how I'd run to the tunnels to escape them. I felt my hands shake as I told him, and I was afraid I might spill the coffee on his

office carpet. As I spoke, he leaned forward and stared at me over the rim of those little gold glasses. He was interested, very interested, and when I glanced over the part about the Rat King, he leaned back and seemed to look disappointed. I could give you an extra five years for escaping, you know. An extra five years can seem like a lifetime till a man inside. I saw a drop of the coffee fall to the carpet and tried to steady my hands. surely he couldn't give me more time for falling into a hole.

But I will spare you from such a thing if you answer one question for me. One question and you may return back to your dorm and so the rest of your sentence in peace. I looked into his eyes, those strange amber orbs that seemed like no eyes I'd ever seen waiting for the question.

He leaned across the desk, anticipation clear on his face. Did you see him? I didn't even ask who he meant. I nodded. He smiled and his shark's grin was more unsettling than the giant rat thing had ever been. They returned me to my dorm and I dropped into my bunk without a word.

My fellow work squad workers tried to get my attention, wanted to know where I'd been, wanted to know what had happened to Sam. But I just laid there and pretended to sleep. I didn't want to talk to anyone, didn't want to say anything to anyone. I just wanted to try and forget the horrors I had seen under the ground. I wrote this the next day, and I'm going to try to get it to my people on the outside. There is something beneath the prison that must be rooted out.

Sam's belongings have been moved. His name no longer appears on any of the call-outs or work squad schedules. It's as though he never existed at all. What if I hadn't come back either? Would I simply be one more inmate that never existed? As I sit here writing, I could swear there is a mouse on the windowsill watching me. He's just standing there,

the rain beating on his whiskers as he stares at me through the day room window's murky glass. At this point, I have no idea what I'm more terrified of. I have no idea which fact still fills me with more fear. I've seen the guards watching me, seen beady eyes watching me after lights out, seeing the way the dorm officer's eyes often track me when they think I'm not looking,

seeing the furry figures that stand outside the glass when they think I'm not paying attention. I'm not sure where I'm more sure my death will come from. Will I die by the hands of the sadistic warden or by the teeth of the rats of Stragview and their merciless king who resides below?