CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - 'The West Virginia Scarf People' Creepypasta

Episode Date: April 7, 2023

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by Saturdead : 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...SUGGESTED CREEPYPASTA PLAYLISTS-►"Good Places to Start"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7YCbYe7lO8&list=PL376vJF9hLjgPUnjn6NhkRS4Vig2TTbvv&index=2&t=0s►"Personal Favourites"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AEa2R9ccNyk&list=PL376vJF9hLjhrM4s5jYmj4mTAYvhC-3PX&index=3►"Written by me"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gX6RAQRi6Rc&list=PL376vJF9hLji9re9eY7PLsn9a_orMALmd&index=2&t=13s►"Long Stories"- https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL376vJF9hLjiwgtok34Ugxu6nSQ2YxcrPFOLLOW 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

I spent last summer backpacking and hitchhiking from Knoxville to New York. Having just finished my sociology degree, I figured I'd do something bucket listy before starting my new job in early September. I've always loved spontaneous travel, to just go where the wind takes me. And that summer was the first time I had the money to do so with some comfort. I could stay at the occasional motel, hop on a train, or just take a cab every now and then. I had options and I wanted this to be my final youthful adventure before I got stuck in the rat race. I made my way up through Kingston, Princeton and Beckley, heading northeast. I hitchhiked most of the way, but I sometimes had to walk for hours before someone pulled over to give me a ride.

I even had a cardboard sign saying New York, New York. But man, it gets rough out there. Nothing to protect you from sudden rain And there's no guarantee you'll find a place to stay before it gets dark And you don't want to fall asleep when you're getting a ride from someone Safety first By the time I got to the small town of Juniper I was exhausted

I stopped at a cafe to get some directions and a bite to eat Got myself a smiling little blue sunflower pin Some kind of local charity thing What can I say? The thing was next to a wanted poster of two kids. I felt bad. As I didn't know a lot of the people in the area and I've been walking for the better part of the past two days,

I decided to catch a greyhound going north. Not too far, just enough to get me to Morgantown. I knew some people there and figured a shower and a warm home-cooked meal would turn my frown upside down. I asked the cashier for direction. Buses don't stop in Juniper, she said. We don't get those. Strange.

I stuck around for a couple of hours before I got back on the road. No one was looking twice at my cardboard plea, so I just had to keep going on my own. By that time, I learned exactly one thing about Juniper, that buses don't stop there. And I was about to learn a second thing, that the roads. are concrete garbage. I'd been walking for about two hours. It was getting dark. I was following the main road out of town

when a piece of concrete got loose, causing me to slip and twist my ankle. I fell over by the roadside, clutching my foot and already seeing some bruising. Now, there was really no other option but to get a bus. I backtracked to a culvert down the road

and found myself a piece of rebar that I could use as a walking stick. As the streetlights turned on, I was annoyed. I thought about calling for a cab, but I was in the middle of nowhere and didn't know how to describe it. I get anxious on the phone. Finally, just around the bend, I could see a bus stop. Just this little sign by the side of the road, not even a bench or anything,

but there was already a guise. standing there, so I figured I was on the right track. I hobbled up there and plopped down at the side of the road. I tried to bandage my ankle and give it some support, but I'd have a hard time walking for the next few days either way. There was no getting away from that. All the while, the other guy kept staring at me. I had no idea what kind of bus went through there, but I figured if someone else was waiting

for one, it couldn't be too far out of line. But judging from the way the other guy looked at me, something was off. At first look, there wasn't anything inherently strange about him. Just some guy in his early 40s, 30 jeans, rolled up flannel shirt, and a grey baseball cap. The only thing that kind of stood out was his scarf. It was this yellow pastel fleece-type scarf which covered most of his neck. looked a bit out of place, but not so much that I initially even thought about it. But the guy kept staring at me.

There was something off about the way he looked at me, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Excuse me, I said. Do you know when the next bus gets here? No response, no acknowledgement of any kind, no nods or headshakes. Excuse me, sir, I repeated. Is there a bus coming? Still, nothing. I shrugged it off. Maybe he didn't speak English. But even then, he ought to have said something. I waited for the better part of an hour.

The sky grew dark and I was slowly coming to terms with having to sleep outside for the night, if need be. I had a tent. I'd be fine. Still, the creepy guy was still standing there, staring at me. He wasn't even checking his phone or anything. He just kept looking my way, pacing back and forth. I tried to put into words exactly what bothered me about him. The first thing I noticed were his eyes.

They didn't seem to blink in unison. He would close one, open it, and then close the next one. And it wouldn't be a pattern. It was seemingly random, but quick. You wouldn't catch it at first. glance. Secondly, there was his chest. When he stood still, I could see him take very shallow breaths. There was this faint noise coming from his nose, like micro whistles. At one point, there hadn't been a single car passing by for 15 minutes. Suddenly, the strange man walked up

to me. He looked at me with those wild, random eyes. Can I help you? I asked. Do you? Before I could finish my sentence, he grasped the bus stop sign and tipped it over. He barely made an effort. An uncomfortable thought washed over me. Maybe he put that sign up in the first place. I took out my phone, as if to show him that I was ready to call for help if need be. I got up on my feet, leaning against my rebar crutch.

There's no bus coming, is there? I asked. There was no response. Instead, he stopped pacing. Not just stopped, as in stopped moving, but as in stopping so completely that it looked like he wasn't even breathing. The only thing moving was the size of his pupils, slowly growing wider, like a cat ready to pounce. Something in the back of my mind screamed at me to run, but my ankle didn't let me. I got about three steps down the road before he tackled me, sending us both reeling down a 15 feet slope.

All the while, he kept taking these shallow breaths like an excited dog. I found myself face first in the dirt with a stranger's body next to me, a dense pine forest stretching out for miles ahead. My head was spinning, trying to figure out what was even happening. As I scrambled to get back on my feet, I couldn't stop focusing on this one stupid detail. But his body was incredibly light. It was like getting tackled by a water balloon. By the time I got up, my attacker was ready to pounce again. Somewhere down the slope I must have dropped my phone.

I swung my piece of rebar in a wide arc, smacking him on the side of the head. It was like hitting a sandbag. It didn't even slow him down. Before I could build up the momentum to swing again, he grabbed me. It surprised me, making me trip over my own feet as he pulled me into the woods. He had this grip like a goddamn vice that just dug into my clothes, and he was much stronger than I anticipated. I was dragged along by my backpack.

I managed to get it off and escape his grip for a moment. but before I could get away, those hands got me by the neck of my jacket. No matter how much I kicked and screamed, I could see the lights by the road disappearing further and further away. I got dragged through bushes, saplings and branches. Things were poking into my skin, tearing at my clothes. I could barely breathe, but I kept struggling. The man in the yellow scarf just kept pulling me further away from the light.

All the while, passed. panting with rapid breaths. It didn't matter how much I screamed, squirmed or twisted. Those hands weren't letting up. We battled for what felt like ours. I got out of my jacket and he grabbed me by the foot. I got my shoes off, but he just grabbed my belt. After a while, I was just too tired to fight.

I resigned to just holding onto whatever I could reach to try and slow him down. But all it did was bruise my hands. At some point I just laid there, exhausted, as he dragged me further into the woods. The rough forest floor turned to soft grass as I was pulled into a field. The full moon was out, and I could see all the way through the clearing. The man in the yellow scarf suddenly stopped and inhaled a deep breath, his torso swelling up like a balloon. It was a faint crackle as his ribs readjusted. He was smelling something.

I made an attempt to get up, but he just kicked me back down and put a foot on my torso. At the slightest movement, he would press down to keep me in check. There were others there. I could hear them shuffle through the tall grass. From where I lay, I could only see the top half of them. There were three of them in total. Two men and a woman. Two of them were carrying their own busts.

signs. All three of them were wearing scarves similar to that of my assailant. One of the men hissed, actually hissed with his mouth wide open. He made this threatening stance and stepped forward, but my attacker didn't flinch. Instead, he hissed back. It was in a normal sound. It was like someone desperately trying to cough, but never quite getting the phlegm out. I felt like prey, as they non-verbally argued about who gets the two. Something grabbed me by the neck, a fourth one, still wielding a bus stop sign. I was pulled away, and as my attacker flinched, they pounced on him. It escalated into a full-on brawl, but not like any fight I'd ever seen.

They were contorting their bodies at impossible angles, their torso's swelling and shrinking like blowfish. They kept thrusting their necks forward, while the heads just bubbled back and forth. In the confusion, I started crawling. No one was looking at me. I crawled at my belly trying to get away. My ankle was killing me. Every little bump sent a jolt of pain up my leg all the way through my spine. Suddenly, they all stopped. At the edge of the forest clasp, clearing, I could see yet another one. This one was much larger. A woman, easily six-eight. She was carrying a bust-up sign, this one of a slightly different model, and she had someone thrown over a shoulder, another victim. Before I could react, hands grabbed me, my arms, my

legs, my clothes, and they started to drag me through the clearing. Whatever disagreements they'd had must have been cleared up by the presence of this leader character. Out of reflex, I tried to talk. I demanded that they listened to me, that they explain themselves, anything. I could hear my voice breaking as I got nothing but vacant expressions in return. These dumb, rolling eyes, all of them blinking at random, all of them taking shallow breaths. But this last one, the large one, she was something different entirely. She moved like her joints didn't matter. She bent her arms back and forth, and she kept swiveling ahead like an owl.

Her mouth was wide open, like she was constantly screaming, but she didn't make a sound, just a completely vacant expression. We got to a mound at the edge of the clearing where they'd made a makeshift shelter. They dug into the dirt and covered it in branches and moss. It was also a sort of storage with at least a dozen different signs, stop signs, bus stop signs,

and even a couple of simple benches. This was some sort of tactic to catch people who were either on their own, lost or desperate. They utilised anything that could make a victim change their behaviour to stop for a moment or wait. The large one dropped a person next to me, an overweight balding man in his late twenties with some of the bluest eyes I'd ever seen.

He was nodding in and out of consciousness and I could see deep bruises on his neck. He must have been choked out. As our five attackers started going through the collection of signs and symbols, I tried to wake the other victim. He was completely out of it, muttering to something about white doors and gardens. I couldn't make sense of it. When he finally came to, he could barely form a coherent sentence. My first thought was that he needed medical attention.

He was clearly unwell. Still, he was coming too. They, they got me at a, a red light. He weised. Pull, pulled me out of the car. They got me at a bus stop, had a fake sign. Do, do they want money? I got money.

I don't think so. There was something deeply inhuman about these people. If they wanted money, they would have just killed me. No, they wanted something. else. And that worried me. Before we got a chance to talk, they grabbed him by the foot and dragged him along the ground. The large woman didn't even flinch. This guy was easily 300 pounds, but she pulled him along like he was a bag of chips. He flailed and protested, the sleeve of his shirt getting stuck and pulled off on a sharp route. They all helped each other holding him down

as he looked at me calling for help. Those desperate pale blue eyes, never seen anything like them before. The large one took off a scarf, revealing a massive wound in the middle of a throat. They still looked red and fresh, a throat wound leading all the way into her esophagus, showing the contracting raw musculature.

That's where the whistling sound had come from. I could see it now. They weren't just taking shallow breaths. They were cycling their lungs. While one lung breathed in and out, the other did so at a different interval. Like when you pedal a bike. One foot goes up, one goes down. That's why the chest moved so much.

They were constantly taking breath. The whistling came from them inhaling and exhaling, seemingly simultaneously and continuously. These were something different entirely. The large woman leaned in close, hugging her victim, putting their neck against one another. Crunch, crunch, crunch. I had to do something, anything. I grabbed the sharp root with a ripped off shirt sleeve. I intended to use it as a weapon, swinging it wildly.

But I couldn't get over the pain in my leg. There was no way I'd get away from them. They were fast and unharmed and could do things that I just couldn't. So I just sat there with my route, watching the large woman undulate with something large moving in and out of the wound in her throat, still with that expressionless face. I put all the things I knew together. They displayed a kind of social structure. They had an alpha, they had tactics, they need their victims alive for something.

And all other people I was looking at were just people. There was no pattern, just broken, twisted people. So I had to try something, anything. Using the torn off sleeve, I tied it around my neck, using the blue sunflower pin to hold it together. was a rudimentary scarf in a way. Then I got up, and before the rest of them caught on, I walked up and stood next to my attacker. The man with a flannel shirt and yellow scarf. I tried to mimic their expressions.

There was an immediate reaction. The man with the yellow scarf looked at me, then back at the others. They in turn just looked at the alpha. She leaned her head back, leaving her. the exposed wound in a victim open to the air. I could see something white, moving in a throat, like a long white tongue retracting into a chest. There was a moment of silence as she observed us.

She seemed confused. I tried to blink seemingly at random and take shallow breaths. I could feel something wet on my throat. Apparently there was little blood, probably from my hands. The alpha got up, her head bobbing back and forth. She hissed. There was a vibration as something rattled in a chest. My attacker seemed agitated and he pushed me away.

I fell over next to the signs as the alpha stormed forward, first to discipline my attacker with a show of force and then to inspect me. I grabbed a stop sign and got up, letting the adrenaline flow through me. I couldn't show pain. I just couldn't. Rapid breaths, blink at random, head on a swivel. I had to look like them, or this was doomed to fail. The alpha looked me over, making her rattling noise. She smelled the blood, poked at me and presented her neck. I could see the wound just inches from my face. And all the way down her throat, I saw something bone white, rattling back and forth. like a stick in a barrel.

She reached for my sleeve scarf, held together by that pin. As a cold hands touched my neck, and her finger started to bend into a grip, she suddenly stopped. The other victim was moving. I could have sworn he was dead, but now he was moving. A long, white branch-like appendage was moving out of his open neck, reaching for open air. And for a moment, the group just looked at him. His body screamed. Not him as a person, but his body.

A long, drawn-out shriek. A grown body crying like a newborn, blood still spurting from his open wound. They all gathered around him. But as my salient stepped forward, the alpha hissed, causing him to retreat. Then, looking at me, it hissed again. He didn't like me. and it wanted me to leave. Both me and my silent.

Still holding the bus stop sign, I try my best to confidently walk out of there. The sign had this heavy lead pipe that I could use to defend myself, if need be. I got about 40 feet before I realized I was being followed. The man in the yellow scarf was still coming for me, and he seemed angry.

But this time, I had a sturdier weapon. I tried to gain some ground, to get away from the others. Whether they'd been tricked by my antics, or just didn't like me, didn't matter. It was just me and this outcast. And as he charged me to wrestle me down again, I was ready. This time, I swung the bust-up sign in an overhead arc, like I was chopping firewood. I closed my eyes, held my breath, and hid it.

him square in the chest. This was much more effective and he doubled over. I just started beating him over and over and over as his chest expanded and shrunk. As his scar fell off, I could see something poking in and out of his neck wound, something white looking for an opportunity to escape. It pressed against his throat, making it bulge like a snake thrown up an egg. I just kept beating him. I beat him until the white thing stopped moving, until I was covered in blood, until the

shrieking died down, until the fingers stopped twitching in different directions, and until the head stopped swiveling back and forth. I beat him until my muscles burned, and my breathing turned rapid from exhaustion. When I finally wiped the salt from my eyes, I was looking at nothing but broken bone. and a yellow scarf. I barely remember making my way back to the main road. I remember collapsing as the sun rose and a man in a pickup truck calling for help.

I remember a familiar face, a white door, something blue. Later on, my friend drove down from Morgantown to see me and I got a dozen calls from my friends and family asking if I was okay. They also had me take a drug test. Apparently I acted irrationally. So, just be careful. They can easily be identified.

They wear something to cover their necks and they travel one by one. They use something to get our attention or to separate us from others. Stop signs to catch lonely drivers, bus stop signs to get drifters. They probably have a dozen other similar tactics. I think they're learning about us with second-hand information, testing and prodding to see what works. They don't talk, and they can be very patient. The first one stayed with me for a long time before he attacked. Maybe he was just making sure I was alone.

Looking back at it, I can barely even believe it happened. Have you ever had that one day that is just so different from anything else you've ever done? that one day that just feels like another life, another time. That was one of those days. Sometimes I even managed to convince myself that it was all a lie, a nightmare, something I cooked up in my sleep-deprived brain. But then, I look at that blue sunflower pin, the one that held the sleeve together.

And I know they're still out there. You know,