CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "The Reason Why You Might Hear Laughing In The Woods" Creepypasta

Episode Date: October 13, 2021

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by 02321: 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►Pavel Zayats: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/4v94WSUGGESTED 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-#Creepypasta #Horror #CreepsMcPasta

The one and only time I went hunting was with my father when I was 11. My mother didn't work, so it was up to him to provide for us. My entire life, he worked more than he was home. When he did come home, he drank in front of the TV, too exhausted to do anything. The years crept up on him, and he finally noticed how old I'd gotten, and how I was already shaping up to be a disappointment in his eyes. I was small from my age. I stayed inside to read instead of playing.

playing sports, my body so frail I got sick often. When he finally truly looked at me for the first time, he didn't recognize the son that lived in his house. He thought hunting would be the answer. If I would man up and shoot something, maybe I might grow into the person he wanted. We never really spent any time together. Out hunting with my father felt like being stuck inside the forest with a stranger. What kind of person even enjoys camping?

Was I missing something? I nearly got eaten alive by bugs. The humid and cloudy weather didn't keep them away, only making me even more miserable. My father kept sipping away at a steel water bottle I knew didn't have water inside. Without it, he never would have lasted the day. We caught no fish at the lake for lunch the first day.

Trying out luck, we went into the forest trying to shoot something for dinner. We packed something to eat, but not much. My father worked hard However he was supporting all three of us on his own I knew he would be four of us soon My mother hadn't told him yet And I wasn't sure how he would take it I really prayed she would leave him

As heartless as that was the hope for We could go to my auntie's house So my father could be alone Maybe retire in a few years Without having to worry about supporting a family Even as a child I could see how much his job broke his body a little more every day.

In my mind, my mother didn't have any kind of feelings for the stranger. Instead of going outside and playing with neighbourhood friends, I worried about my family's future. In the woods, hunkered down, my father waited for something to come into his sight. For the first time, he made an attempt to talk with me and teach me things. After a while, when he thought I could be trusted, he placed a rifle into my hands and let me get into position.

It was far too big for my short arms and little hands. I feared if I fired the recoil would break my shoulder. I didn't know the first thing about guns. In the movies, I'd seen they always had powerful recall. Line it up, our dinner is over there. My father whispered in my ear. While I worried and fretted, a rabbit came into the clearing. He spotted it first.

Looking through the sight, I went through everything I'd just learned. I only needed to pull the trigger. Such a simple little thing. My father would teach me more things patiently and be proud of me. The first hunting trip with his son would become a cherished memory. It did not go like that. I froze up. I just couldn't shoot the rabbit.

Aside from not wanting to kill another living creature, I felt like if I shot it, I would be living a lie. My father would try his best to act like the person he would. should be, teaching me how to skin the rabbit and had to cook it, but he would not actually care about me. He never did. This trip would never turn into a family relationship he wanted. The small rabbit jumped off and out of sight to become a meal for something else. I eased at the grip on the rifle the moment before it snatched on my hands. My father shot at the rabbit, now hidden in the bush, face and a rage. Why didn't you shoot it? he hissed at me.

When he got angry, his voice got low. He was never the type to yell and scream. I wondered if he did shout at me, I might be less scared of him. Whenever I had a nightmare, he was always the same. My father sitting in the living room in the dark, staring at the TV. I stood in the doorway, looking at him, just waiting. The waiting crept dread into my bones. I hated waiting.

I wished he would just finally scream at me. I couldn't stand his silent rage and, longer. Go back to camp, you're worthless. Those words should have done nothing to me. After all, this man wasn't my father. Not really. He was a stranger. And yet, I found my face reddened in shame. I still didn't entirely regret not shooting the rabbit. I went back to camp trying to make myself useful. I collected firewood. I tied it up and did anything else I thought might make my father happy. I heard a sound of a truck. We parked pretty close by

and my stomach sank at the thought of him just leaving me here. But our gear cost a lot of money. He would leave his son in the woods, but not things he worked hard for. For hours I was alone in the tent. I brought a book along. I'd nearly finished it by the time my father returned.

He smelled drunk and like fast food. I knew he'd gone into town for supper and a few drinks alone. I'd eat enough. heartdog and a handful of marshmallows. The arrangement was fine by me. The rest of the night he spent by the fire, silently drinking his not so hidden vodka stash. The scene identical to how he spent time at home. So silent, just looking forward, yet not taking anything in. He stayed outside, even after night fell. I went into our tent trying to sleep, finding it impossible.

I thought about how things would change when my new sibling came. if they ever made it to that point. I feared my father may make certain he would not have another mouth to feed. I wanted nothing more than to get away from that man, even though, in a way, he had never done anything to me. That nothing scared me, that nothing made me feel as if something was coming. At some point, I'd fallen asleep.

Rustling outside, woke me up. In my drowsy state, I sat up, hearing my father's voice outside. Take him, please, not me. He was crying. The man I didn't know a thing about was crying. His voice was faint as if far away. More begging and pleading until I heard something that made me scramble into the corner of the tent. He finally broke the silence and the noise I've always dreaded came.

He screamed. And just kept screaming as if his life depended on it. Clutching my knees to my chest, tears came. into my eyes, as I could do nothing but listen. Cracks from the rifle came. Whatever he was firing at, he missed, or it didn't care. The entire exchange only took a few minutes that felt like years. Finally, his voice drifted away, as if he was being dragged at a fast pace.

At first, I wanted to stay inside the tent until morning. I sobbed hard until my throat felt raw and eyes hurt. When my crying spell stopped, I decided to see if he dropped the rifle. I would need a weapon until I could leave when dawn came. I and sit the tent only enough to peek outside. The dying fire did not give enough light to see by. I needed to go outside.

Finding a flashlight, I carefully got out of the tent, hyper aware of every sound around me. Scanning the ground, I saw the hot dogs was still where I left them. If my father was attacked by a wild animal, why didn't they take these as well? did the smell attract something and it decided a full-grown man would be a better meal?

I saw no sign of the rifle, only tracks in the dirt where my father made his last stand. I felt sick because I realised he was coming towards the camp instead of the truck when he got snatched away. He either tried to save me

or wanted to use me as bait. Neither idea made me feel better. Thinking the truck would be a better I placed away until morning, I started to look around, trying to find the trail towards it. I stopped when I heard a voice. Please, not me. Help. It sounded so hurt and awful.

The last word was choked out, making it hard to hear. But I knew that was my father calling out. For the first time in my life, he was trying to reach me. abandoning the idea of the truck, I foolishly turned away and towards the voice. For hours, I walked in those woods, getting hopelessly lost. I felt sick with fear. Anything could be in the dark, and I only had a small flashlight to protect myself. Whatever took my father, easily overpowered a full-grown man.

I did not have a chance if it came across me. I'd let my emotions take over, and it might get me killed. Then again, I was only a child back. then and really shouldn't be too hard on myself. Please. The voice came from close by, very low and raspy, but still my father's voice. I had been walking for hours at that point. My small body wasn't meant to move this much in the cold, wet darkness.

I felt a fever already coming and I wasn't thinking clearly as I walked towards the voice. I didn't even consider it may be someone else aside from who I wanted to find. coming into a clearing and started to look around frantically with my flashlight. A small beam of light landed on something that made me choke on air. Someone killed a deer, skinned it and hung it from a tree. In the darkness, that was what it looked like. I knew what a skinned deer looked like. It was what my mind wanted to see.

The kill was so fresh, but it still tripped down into the grass. I couldn't start myself from starting to take shorter and shorter breaths. when a whisper of a thought came to my mind that the body wasn't a deer that's not him I said out loud only to myself it's not him it's not him it's a deer it's a small deformed deer

with a small legs unable to stop myself I suddenly hunched over and threw up my meag meal from hours before mostly bile that stung my throat seeing such a ghastly sight in the dark made me completely snap. Instead of screaming,

I started to laugh. On my knees, alone, lost and scared beyond words, I'd started to laugh. Weak chuggles at first that turned into a stroke cackling, and soon turned into heavy sobs that locked up my chest.

It's not him, it's... I was sobbing, holding myself, not being able to look at the body in front of me. After getting another few glances, between tears, I saw how different the legs were compared to what deer legs should look like. I only held under some hope it wasn't my father skinned and hanged from a tree, because I'd heard him a few minutes before entering the clearing. The kill was fresh, but skinning took a while, even if he knew what you were doing. In the next few moments, I saw why my hope was unfounded.

I forced myself to stop crying when I saw a pale face in the dark on the other end of the clearing. The face looked at me through the trees, just beyond the skin body. I opened my mouth to ask for help, but nothing came out aside from a croak. To my horror, the face came out of the trees with the rest of its terrible body. I didn't understand what I was seeing, even though the pale creature stood out in the darkness. I wanted to believe I was still in my tent, dreaming this entire thing. The monster was a thing of nightmares. It was skinny, so much so I could see every bone in its body.

It had arms so long he walked on his elbows, the rest of his arms folding backwards, sticking up above his head. The same was for its legs. It crawled on its knees, legs pointing up towards the sky. The pale thing saw me, inhuman sunken eyes and a flat human-shaped face. Standing up, I thought I could run. It was still a few feet away, and judging from how deformed his body was,

I doubted it could move very fast. I only got to take a single step back when it raised an arm. The rest of his arm snapped forward easily, covering the distance of the clearing. I'd assumed it couldn't reach forward with his entire arm because it was bent back, but I was mistaken.

Twisted fingers grasped the front of my shirt. I was dragged forward, too in shock to do anything. Raising me up, I met those horrible black eyes. The smell of a rotted breath nearly made me pass out, I was so small and frail I could do nothing to fight against the monster. Most likely, my father was dead. It would skin and eat me, and I couldn't do a damn thing about it. The whole situation was so bleak, I surprised myself over what I did next.

I started to laugh again. The monster's features twisted in one of confusion. I still laughed until tears came back to my eyes, and that thing, whatever it was, copied me. It laughed my own voice back towards me. We both laughed until I physically couldn't any longer. I wish had an explanation of how I escaped from that creature. The memories end in darkness at that point.

I was told later that I had been found on a hiking trail a week later, nearly starved a death. Even after my body recovered, my mind did not. Everyone assumed I killed my father in those woods And the event just broke me I would like to believe that And the creature I'd seen wasn't real I didn't remember the two years after I'd been found I ate and slept not doing much else

One day I weakly laughed at a joke I'd overheard When the doctors found out I would react to any kind of comedy They were able to get me to laugh myself back to a new normal I remembered seeing that monster in the woods. Then I was with my mother and my little sister, no memories in between. I haven't yet told her about that creature. They found some rope with my father's blood on it. However, they didn't know where his body was,

or even how I got up into the tree to tie up that rope to start with. The case was still open and would be for the rest of my life. I still want to warn people about that thing in the woods. I'm certain it's still out there, waiting. I don't know why it let me go. Maybe it was thankful I'd given it the perfect voice to learn others towards it. So, if you hear a child laughing in the middle of the woods, don't go towards it. That's the time to leave.