CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "There Will Be No Counting To Ten" Creepypasta

Episode Date: January 26, 2021

But really, who's counting?CREEPYPASTA STORY►by ViciousMock: 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►João Florencio: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/28...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-

Oh, leung, that I'm in three days. I'm all moor as I'm more on think. Oh, that to seeer that morning off must, I'm all mooh as I'm just on thinking. Oh, van Navement, Apparel Tournoe. Oh, I'm a moose if I're not on thinking. Have you it mollick to come? Give you yourself then a boost.

With biocure, Maxhot Liquid. Three opeped plants. Magnesium, Eiser. An energy booster, to immediately again to come out. Biocure Maxshot Liquid. Foodingsupplement, Apparently, I had become impossible to talk to, unpredictable, and being with me was like,

quote, constantly walking our neck shells. This was cursed his ultimatum. Unless I wanted it to leave, I was to attend every week, no exceptions. You'd imagine that an anger management group would be a lively bunch, but on first glance they didn't appear to be. To my right, a woman was engrossed in a book called The Road to Happiness. is paved with laughter. I rolled my eyes and let out an audible sigh. She looked up at me, but to my disappointment did not react.

Her lip just quivered. Pathetic. As I sat, I couldn't help but wonder what even happened at these things. They would probably make us sit in a circle and say things like, My name is Doreen and I'm an angaholic. They would probably make us hug each other

and visualize our happy places. The bizarre is a bizarre issue. image of me, trying out breathing exercises, the next time I had a meeting with that dick from marketing came to mind. Oh no, I don't need an ambulance. I'm just sat here panting like a bulldog giving birth, because listening to you talk about synergistic growth marketing on a multidisciplinary platform makes me want to gouge my own eyes out. Now, if you don't mind, I'm trying to count to ten. The group leader was late. Maybe it was some kind of test to see how angry it made us. Well, I wasn't buying it. At 7.30, no matter what,

I was out of here, and we could sit in a circle singing kumbaya until then for all I cared. Some people call it anger problems. I call it assertive. I get what I want. Sometimes people have a problem with that. I nearly got fired for making Donna cry, but really, she deserved it. I'm sure she must have screwed away to the top, because there was no way that someone so stupid could possibly have earned that position.

If I had the authority to fire her, I would. Look, maybe sometimes I get carried away, but better than being a pushover, right? There was nothing worse than those yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir guys. The group leader arrived at 6.16 p.m. Lack of punctuality was another thing I have no patience for. Better yet, she couldn't have been older than 20. A normal group would eat her alive. Instead, she had this dismal lot.

Shame. Welcome, everyone. my name's Stephanie. Look around you. You'll be together for the next 12 weeks, so get along. Not too well, though. That's rule one. No contact outside of the group.

No screwing each other. No meeting for coffee. Nothing. A balding middle-aged man groaned in disappointment. From the moment he sat down, he had been staring at a young woman next to him. Clearly uncomfortable, she had been gradually edging the chair away from him

for the last 16 minutes. He looked around, governing stupidly. Perverted Gitt. There were other rules like not repeating anything you heard in group about being kind to others and all that crap. The final and most important rule

why didn't go first this stupid cow? Was that during these 12 weeks we must not engage in any form of violence towards others. A lot of you are here today with violence in your past. While we can talk about what happened and reflect on it,

by being here and taking part in this, you're choosing a different path. In other words, keep your hands clean. It seemed like a weird way to word it, even at the time. When he went around the room, the chair-aging woman told her story of flipping out on a boyfriend for texting a woman who he worked with about work. Bald Perv, quote, used to beat his wife,

but only when she asked for it. Another man spoke of ranting out of his car window at a school bus, but driving too slow. As everyone told their stories, my first thought was how I did not belong here. Half of them had once been in prison, and the others seemingly got lucky with a lack of evidence or a weak judge. I had a bit of a temper, but Kirsty was clearly mistaken if she thought this was a place for people like me. A gym rat told the story of how his teenage daughter's boyfriend had leaked naked pictures of her to the whole class. When he explained in detail how he hadn't held back when he saw the little punk,

everyone in the group cheered. I expected Stephanie to lecture us on glorifying violence, but she said nothing. I cheered a bit too. We met once a week. Contrary to my expectations, there were no happy places or counting to ten. All we did was talk, and talk we did. Every week, we listed every person who had angered us. We were encouraged to explain in detail exactly how it made us feel,

the thoughts we had and the fantasies that entered. our minds. The woman who had sat next to me reading in the first session was visibly uncomfortable with this. Well, I guess I was a bit upset with my husband last week, but it was my fault, really. It's nothing. I'm sure it wasn't your fault. Why didn't you tell us more about it? Stephanie said. Well, we were having dinner and he made a comment that I didn't dress up for him the way I used to. He thinks I don't make an effort anymore. I've let myself go. That asshole, someone said, and there was a general or murmur of agreement around the circle.

No, it's not like that. He's right. I don't take care of myself anymore. I guess I don't think of myself as sexy anymore. Why don't you tell us what thoughts were going through your head when you were feeling angry with him? Well, at first they thought, how dare you? I had your kids and they ruined my body. Of course I don't look the same.

And he's not making much of an effort either. He's getting older and fatter and his personal hygiene is lacking. Anyway, we talked about it and we figured it out. I was really proud of myself for staying calm and... Let's go back to when you were angry. What did you want to do? said Stephanie. Well, I wanted to cry, she started. But when Stephanie gave her a stern look, she added,

I guess I wanted to hurt him. How would you hurt him? Stephanie said. She was perched on a chair like a gargoy in heat. Well... The reluctant storyteller had now lowered to a whisper. Sometimes, I imagine taking a knife and stabbing him while he's asleep. I'd stab him so many times, and he'd wake up and see me standing over him, and he'd beg me to stop.

I just keep stabbing until there's no more places to stab. She burst into tears. Well done, said Stephanie, her blood loss satisfied at least. The woman who fantasized about stabbing her husband didn't come back. The dynamic of the group changed. Graphic depictions of violent fantasies became normal. Stephanie encouraged it, demanded it. Everything was someone else's fault,

and we were chastised for acknowledging that anything could be ours. What about you, Reese? How have things been with your girlfriend? It's been fine. We've been getting along well, I said. She stared at me like I was challenging her. In a way, I was. All I told her about Christy

was that I came here on her suggestion. And ever since, Stephanie had desperately been trying to poke me into admitting I was angry about it. Fine, what about that dick from marketing? I laughed that she'd remembered his nickname. I've not seen him since. He's been off sick, I think. That's good news, she said, and moved on. As the next week began, the fifth of the program, yet another group member didn't show up.

We'd started with 12 people and we were down to four. the ones that were left were the worst of the bunch. Stephanie decided to confront me about the fact that I was not fully engaging with the group. You haven't been sharing what's angered you, Reese. All we hear about is that dick from marketing. I still haven't seen him. He must have quit, I guess. Look, I just haven't been feeling that angry recently.

I was trying to batter away, but she wasn't deterred in the slightest. Reese, you're at this group for a reason, and if you want to get better, you need to join in. The truth was, my anger wasn't getting any better. It was getting worse. If it wasn't for the ultimatum Christy had given me, I wouldn't have continued going to the group at all. The way they all spoke and the way Stephanie seemed to get off on hearing it really weirded me out.

I started to wish we were doing trust falls and meditating after all. Stephanie continued to stare at me expectantly. Well, I guess my stepson made me angry this week, I offered. What happened? He's just a little turd I say stepson But his mother and I are not married Still, I'm the closest thing to a dad he has

She had him when she was just 18 You know Since we've been together I've done everything I can for him It's not been easy either He knows I can't discipline him properly Since I'm not his dad Stephanie sent an opportunity

How exactly do you think he should be disciplined Well, when I was a kid I got spanked I guess I wonder sometimes if that would help my girlfriend has the patience of a saint, but she can be a bit soft on him. She believes in talking things out and being understanding. I get it, but at the same time, this kid is such a little turd. Everyone was staring at me.

I felt tremendously guilty, but at least I got it off my chest. Maybe there was value in the group after all. That kid is disrespecting you, said one of the guys. Yeah, he needs a firm hand. He thinks he can walk all over you, said another. "'It's not up to me,' I said. "'It's her son. "'She can raise him how she feels right.

"'I just... "'I don't know. "'No, go on, Reese. "'What were you about to say?' "'Stefany, lean forward. "'I know it sounds awful, "'but sometimes I wish it would just disappear, "'like he never existed.

"'I know, it's a really bad thing for me to say, "'but it would just be so much easier "'for me and Kirsty to build our relationship "'if he wasn't a consideration in everything. "'Thank you for sure. sharing, Stephanie said, with a smug smile. Another victory for her. I hated myself as saying it out loud.

I hadn't even realized that it was what I'd been thinking for all these years. What kind of terrible human being would even think something like that, let alone say it to a room full of strangers? I couldn't concentrate anymore, so I left early. I slammed the door as I went, shutting out the room's protests. Of course, I couldn't go home, because the man. meeting wasn't over yet. Kirsty would lose a mind if she knew I'd left early,

let alone the reason why. Not wanting to deal with a hassle, I went to the bar across the road. It was quiet, and I ordered a whiskey. Unlike the movies, the bartender had no desire to listen to my problems, and so I sat drinking in silence. It took me only seven minutes to finish my drink,

so I ordered another, and then another. I have a vague memory of a brunette walking in at some point and sitting next to me. She was a 10 out of 10, with a plunging neckline and an inviting smile. I woke up the next morning, my tongue like sandpaper. I reached my arm at to Kirsty, but Kirsty wasn't there. I wasn't home at all, and instead found the girl from the bar still asleep. Damn.

I grabbed my phone. 83 missed calls and my voicemail was full. I called Kirsty. I'm so sorry, I went for a couple of drinks and Reese, get back here quick. The police are here. Tyler has gone. The police had no leads.

It was like he simply vanished. According to Kirsty, one minute he was in his room, but when she checked on him soon after, he was gone. The window was open, but no neighbours had seen anything. All this, despite the fact that it was far from the middle of the night, It had happened between 8 and 8.30pm. If I hadn't been in that bar. I didn't want to go to the group the following week, but Kirstie insisted.

She told me she wanted to be alone for a while. And besides, the police were going to find him soon enough, so there was no reason not to carry on with life. Well, that's good news, said one of the guys when I told them the story. Good news, I repeated. Yeah, it's what you wanted, isn't it, for him to disappear? I didn't want. I think what he's trying to say, interrupted Stephanie,

is that sometimes things have a way of working themselves out. Sometimes the things that make us angry don't stay in our lives for long. Now, you don't need to worry about it. Yeah, it's like my wife, said Bald Purve. If she hadn't been in her accident, I'd still be. They all looked to me like I took my dick out and peed in their cornflakes. He doesn't even listen to us. Why is he still in the group?

Bold Purve complained. Reese, I told you already. My wife had an accident and fell down the stairs at home. She is in a hospital now, in a coma. And now I get a lot more peace. I can tell you that for nothing. Just get through the next few weeks for Christy. I zoned out for the rest of the meeting until I heard my name.

Reese? Yeah, it's Reese. I'm mad at this week. It was bold perth again. This guy really needed someone to shut him up. "'Why?' I said blankly. "'You think you're better than us. "'I can see it on your face.

"'You act so high and mighty. "'But listen to what you just said the last week about that kid. "'Now you're here pretending to care. "'You're just the same as us.' "'I raised at my feet. "'He looked frightened. "'You're a complete piece of crap. "'You pray on people who can't defend themselves, like your wife.

"'I don't know why we're all pretending. "'It's not blatantly obvious. "'You pushed her down the stairs yourself.' "'Rise, there's quite an accusation to make. said Stephanie. Why don't we? Oh, screw you, Stephanie. Once again, I left. I had no intentions of sitting around listening to bold purse fantasies of what he wanted to do to, quote, take me down a peg or two. This time, instead of the bar, I went away to my car. If only they had taught us some breathing techniques, I might actually have used them. I couldn't get my head around what

was going on. How was this a normal anger management group? Was this one? Was this one? woman even licensed? It was a nagging feeling inside me I couldn't get rid of. I had to find out more. The first person to quit was the woman who had husbands having fantasies. I'd start there. She had an unusual name, so finding her phone number was easy. Hi, I'm sorry to bother you.

It's Reese from the group used to go to. Reese? Yeah, look, I'm sorry to call you, and maybe I'm being crazy, but something strangers. I think I know why you're calling. It's happened to you too, hasn't it? What has? After the session, when I said, that stuff about my husband,

he... He was stabbed at death on his way home from work. He was stabbed in 71 places, and he bled out on the street. The police have no suspects. It wasn't easy to find the others who had left the group, but I found some of them too. They all had the same story.

After they discussed their anger in the group towards someone, the violent fantasy had been exacted, on that very person soon after. I had complained about that dig from marketing. He didn't come back to work. I tried to rag my brain to remember what exactly I'd said, but I couldn't remember. It was just an off-the-cuff remark.

Then I said I wish my steps on would disappear. It had come true, just like the others. I drove home, faster than I should have. I had to tell Christy and the police. She snapped. The police looked at me like I was insane, but promised to follow up the lead. Kirsty stormed out,

but not before she ordered me to stay put in case Tyler came home. The next morning, there was a knock at the door. Stephanie. What the hell are you doing here? I said. She smiled at me.

That sickly sweet little girl's smile she did, but didn't say a word. I've told the police everything. It's too late. There's no point in trying to shut me up now. She just laughed. You think I'm here to shut you up? I instantly realised my mistake.

This visit was nothing to do with Tyler. Bold purve had complained about me. Anyone who angered a member of the group was made to suffer, even if it was another member of the group. I just hadn't waited around to listen to exactly what would be my fate. You really think you're going to overpower me? I'm twice your size. She stepped towards me and I felt something hard press against me.

That's what he wants then, to shoot me? Not quite imaginative, isn't? Oh no, she said cheerfully. The gun is just to make sure you behave. He had something much more exciting in mind. Where did you take Taylor? It's just like he disappeared, isn't it? She laughed again.

You're a psycho. It's really simple, really. It's psychology 101. To deal with anger, where possible, remove the stressor. I'm helping people. Surely you see that. She placed the backpack on the floor. With one hand pointing the gun at me,

the other hand emptied the contents of the bag. She took out a large plastic sheet and unfolded it on the floor. Then she took out an electric drill, a meat cleaver and a large length of rope. You must be out of your mind. I'm not going to let you. I'd rather get shot. No, no.

The instructions were very specific. I opened my mouth to argue, but she didn't. interrupted. He really is a little turd, isn't he, that kid. No wonder you'd had enough. He's still alive? Of course. You only wanted him to disappear, right? Please, I'm sorry. Just give my girlfriend her son back. Okay, get yourself on the sheet then. Don't want to make a mess, do we? Kirsty would never get the stains out of the carpet. Lord knows, she's had enough stress lately. I complied. One of the choice did I have?

This psycho had Tyler. Everything seemed to slow down. Everything, except my heart, which was threatening to burst after my ribcage. I hadn't ever given much thought to death. I always imagined it would be a peaceful affair when I was an old man. And if I'd ever imagined something like this would happen, I would have hoped I would be brave, dignified.

But I wasn't. I begged, I cried. I was terrified. I was terrified of what might happen to Tyler, and I was terrified of what was terrified of what was going to happen to me? How much would it hurt? How much pain would it take for me to pass out? How long would it be until my consciousness faded? Luckily for me, she was so focused on a fun that she let down her guard. Luckily for me, she turned the drill on and the sound drowned

out Kirsty's footsteps behind her. Luckily for me, Kirsty reacted quickly when she walked inside and saw what was happening. The drill had only touched my skin. When the bottle came down on Stephanie's head. I... I was just coming to pick up some clothes. Kirsty stuttered, gorping in horror at the blood-smeared bottle in her hand and Stephanie's unconscious body

on the floor. The police found Tyler. He was shaken, of course, but physically unharmed. It turned out that I'd wish for that dick from marketing to get hit by a bus, which he did.

He recovered though. He's still a dick, but at least is alive. My anger isn't cured, but I'm working on it, in a legit way this time. It took time, but Kirsty forgave me for everything. I know I don't deserve her, but I'm glad she did. Things are better with Tyler now. One good thing about all of this.

It made me realize how much I love that kid.