CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "There's something different about my local Santa" Creepypasta

Episode Date: December 14, 2021

AUTHOR'S BOOK. CHECK IT OUT-►US https://www.amazon.com/Beneath-Asylum...►UK https://www.amazon.co.uk/Beneath-Asyl...CREEPYPASTA STORY►by Jgrupe: 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►Benjamin Shukrallah: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/oA...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-

I'm writing this as a warning to everybody. Don't trust downtown Santa. You know the guy I'm talking about. He's walking around right now, wearing a grubby old beard that's no longer snowy white and color, but a dirty grey shade. His red pants are scuffed and his boots are dirty from stepping in dog turds as he roams the street tamelessly.

Always downtown. I knew the moment I saw him that he wasn't the real Santa Claus. Despite the heavy-looking bag he carried on his shoulder and the red hat lined with white fur sitting atop his head. Still, he saw me right away and came stomping over to us from across the town square. Oh no, he saw us, I heard my mom mutter, grabbing my shoulder protectively. We should go. My dad shook his head, looking only slightly less worried than my mom.

No, that'll make it worse. He'll probably cause a scene. let's just get this over with. My mother looked horrified. Her eyes had gone wide and she was staring at my dad as if he was losing his mind. Over my dead body,

she whispered furiously under her breath to him, but eventually relented as downtown Santa came within earshot. He strode over towards us with big, bounding steps and laughed merrily. Ho, ho, ho,

Merry Christmas. What do we have here? "'What's your name, little boy?' he asked with good-natured cheer. I wondered if maybe he wasn't so bad after all. Despite his appearance and my parents' obvious concern, he seemed decent enough. Maybe just a little grubby. "'Jacob,' I said back to him, "'well, Jacob, have you been a good boy this year?'

"'I think so. I got good grades. I helped my friend with his homework yesterday, and I always—' I usually clean the cat's litter box in time every week when it's my turn. At this point, I still thought it was really Santa, or maybe one of his representatives, so I didn't want to lie to him. But I'd find out later he was doing way worse stuff than lying.

Way worse. My parents sounded like they were holding their breath behind me, and I could feel my mom's grip on my shoulder getting tighter and tighter. Oh, ho, ho, ho. Well, that sounds like a good boy to me. And what did you want for Christmas this year? If you could have anything in the world, what would it be? I thought about this for a few moments, then decided.

If there was one thing I wanted, it was a new video game system, the one my parents said was too expensive. A PS5, I told him, and he chuckled. My, that's a popular one this year. All right, well, I'll have to see if the elves can make up another one before Christmas. You'll be extra good boy and we'll see what we can do, okay? I thanked him politely and he patted me twice on top of my head as if I are a dog, then handed me a candy cane wrapped in Salafane.

Merry Christmas, he said, looking at my parents now instead of me. His voice had changed and become hard and flamed. that. Ha, Merry Christmas, my dad said to him, awkwardly. Thanks.

My mom snatched a candy cane from my hand as soon as downtown Santa walked away. I couldn't help but feel disappointed. Not about the candy cane, those were plenty of all this time of year. Downtown Santa had basically

just told me I wouldn't get a PS5. When people said, I'll have to see. That always meant no. I was a kid. kid and even I knew that. When we got home an hour later, my parents got into

an argument. It sounded like my mom was mad at my dad for letting me talk to downtown Santa. She had wanted us to run away from him in the opposite direction. There was whispering and I heard her say something about what happened last year, but I had

no idea what that meant. They argued for the rest of the night and I stayed in my room only emerging for dinner, which consisted of Katie Macon Cheese and Hostel Stairs and Clare's back and forth across the table. I was afraid to say a word, feeling like it was somehow my fault they were arguing with each other. The next day, my parents still weren't talking and neither one of them was going to make the ritual's Sunday morning pancakes, I could tell. So I made myself a disappointing breakfast of Reese Puff's

cereal and milk. Then I told my parents I was going to play with some friends for a while. Neither one of them seemed to hear me. I met my two friends, Ryan and Brad, and we took a walk downtown, looking for places that were given out free samples. Weekends were always good for that, especially around Christmas, and we knew all the hot spots.

In December, our town's little shops were doing anything they could to try and get people in the doors, so employees were out front on the sidewalk in places, giving out free apple cider and food samples, bundled up in coats in the cold weather. There was a carousel set up temporarily in the town square, horse-drawn carriage rides and a myriad of other activities which were happening throughout the month, especially on weekends.

After scouring all of the local stores for free stuff, we sat in the town square debating what to do. The carriage rides were fine, but we'd done that before. Same with the carousel. None of us mentioned these activities because they seemed a bit, lame, since they were meant for little kids and families. Then, I saw him again. Downtown Santa.

He was talking to a little kid with a pair of nervous-looking parents once again standing behind them, looking watchful and worried. Hey guys, you see that Santa? Yeah, said Ryan. What's the deal with him? My parents were freaked out yesterday when he came over to talk to us. then they argued about it all night and look at that kid's parents

don't they look scared just being close to him the mother pulled a child closer edging away ever so slightly as she tried to bring the interaction to an end downtown Santa was having none of that though he was still in lively animated conversation with the child pulling the child's arm and digging in his pockets for a fresh candy cane

hmm yeah I guess that is weird "'H really? You guys don't know about downtown center?' Brett asked, chuckling at us like we were stupid. Ryan and I looked at each other, and I felt my face getting hot with embarrassment. Um, no, I don't think so. Maybe I did and just forgot, I said. What's the deal with him again? Brad just kept laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world.

He could be a bit of a dick when he had a piece of information like that. He loved being in control of a bit of juicy info and dangling it in front of your face while you begged for it. And then half the time he was just buying time so he could make it some bald-faced lie. It was always hard to tell whether he was being honest or not. I don't know, guys, I'm not sure you're old enough to hear this story. You're only a year older than us, Brad. Shut the hell up already and tell us. Finally, after a few more minutes of this, he relented.

Okay, okay. So you guys know how there's the real Santa and then there's his representatives, right? The guys who go around to malls and everything. Yeah, so what about it? I asked, eager to hear what he had to say. Well, apparently, he used to be a shopping mall center over at the Western Mall. But then kids started going missing and the police started connecting it to him. They even arrested the guy.

It was in the newspaper and everything. My parents tried to hide it from me But I found the old paper in the recycling bin And asked my older brother about it They told me not to tell you guys Since you're so immature You wouldn't be able to handle Finding out that you sat on the lap of a serial killer

But they never proved anything He lost his job, his house, all that Now he lives on the street And they say the only clothes he still has Are his Santa clothes That's why you only seem out this time of year Ryan and I were dumb families We'd never heard any of that before, but it certainly explained my mum's concern, if it was true.

The more I thought about it, the more I started to convince myself, Brad made it up. Things like that didn't happen in small towns like ours. I knew my parents would have told me something like that, if only to keep me safe. Plus, Brad was a big, fat liar. Brad went home a little while later, and Ryan and I were left by a lot. ourselves. Downtown Santa was still roaming the town square and we were watching him suspiciously from a distance away. Do you think Brad's full of crap? Ryan asked me. Probably, I mean about the murdering kids part. Brad's always trying to mess with us, but I bet he's right about one thing.

This guy for sure was a former mall Santa, judging by the way he talks. And I think I actually remember him now from last year, over at the Western Mall, just like Brad's. had said. Hmm, I wonder if he still got any connections to the big guy. I hadn't thought of that. He had been asking kids what they wanted for Christmas. Maybe he still had some secret line to Santa that he could use the same information. Why else would he be asking kids what they wanted and giving out candy canes?

That would be cool, like a big red phone with a Rudolph nose on it, that lights up when Santa calls from the North Pole. I wonder if he's really got something like that. A top secret hotline to Santa Claus. Can you imagine? We could actually try to convince him to give us PS5s this year, rather than just getting the run around again. We could plead our case to him personally.

Are you thinking what I'm thinking? Ryan asked, shaking me with both hands, excitedly by their shoulders. Yes, let's follow him, I said quietly. We'll tell him back to his place. Then we'll use his Santa phone to talk to the big man, make our case for a PS5s. Then we get out, before he noticed us, it was foolproof.

At least, we thought so. The two of us waited and watched downtown Santa from a distance, keeping an eye on him constantly as he went from kid to kid and family to family. Each time he provoked the same reaction, wonderment from the children, terror and suspicion from the adults. Regardless, we'd made up our minds about what we were going to do. The idea of getting the PS-5s we'd been drooling over, for the longest time, probably made our judgment a bit cloudy.

We decided we would even settle for just one that the two of us would share if it came down to it. So we sat, watching and waiting. My ass first became uncomfortably cold from sitting on the bench, so I stood up and paced. Then my face started to feel numb, and my toes, and finally my fingers as I dug them into my pockets, trying to warm them up. My extremities prickled and tingled with pins and needles as they became more and more painful the longer we sat there. Man, it's never going to leave. This guy's committed, Ryan said as the downtown Santa marched across the town square for the unteenth time to greet another family. He hadn't bothered to come over to us, though, I noticed.

Maybe he just recognized me from the other day, I thought to myself. Finally, I saw a police officer come by, and the fake Santa's eyes went a bit wide and nervous at the sight of her. The cop marched right over the downtown centre and told him something, and they argued back and forth for a minute or two. He wasn't happy with whatever she had to tell him. That did it, though. He started walking away, heading towards the warehouse section of town. Ryan and I followed after him, hurrying so he wouldn't lose him. The two of us chased him, hiding behind trees and signs and boulders along the way,

whatever we could find so that he didn't spot us. It was starting to get late in the afternoon, when he finally stopped at an old abandoned warehouse near the edge of town, looking around, then lifting up a flap of rusty corrugated tin to enter the place. On the other side of the building was a forest, and there was a quiet, rarely travelled road nearby, which led out of town and into the country. Nobody was around,

and it was very quiet as we walked up to the building, our footsteps crunching in the gravel. As we approached the door to go inside, I started to second guess our plan. Are you sure about this, Ryan? What if Brad was right? What if he really is a killer? Man, that's a load of bull.

I bet Brad can't even read a newspaper. And besides, our parents would tell us. if there's a killer walking around in a Santa suit and he wouldn't be allowed to hand out candy canes in the town square, that's for sure. I half agreed with him, but then thought about the cop, kicking him out of the area,

and the distrustful glares of the parents with their kids, and my mum's hand on my shoulder the day before, squeezing tighter and tighter until it hurt, as if she didn't even notice she was doing it. I open my mouth to say something else, but Ryan was already slipping in beneath the piece of Rusty Tin.

Following him, I started to feel the beat of my heart picking up speed, pounding faster and faster in my chest. Neither of us said anything as we snuck into the warehouse, sticking to the shadows and following the sound of movement ahead. As we entered a large open space, I saw there were shelves along the walls and down the centre of the huge room, separating it into large aisles.

Moving along behind the boxes stacked up on a shelf, we got closer so that we were 20 feet or so away from downtown Santa, where he stodded a table covered in junk, surrounded by racks of boxes in the centre aisle of the warehouse. He was muttering something quietly under his breath, and I struggled to make out the words. I noticed he was also organising a great number of keys. They were scattered all over his table where he was standing, sorting through them.

Dozens of keys, maybe hundreds of them. They all look like the house keys my parents used to open our front door. Copper, silver and golden colour. They were all different shapes and sizes. What took you so long? A man asked from where he had been hidden a few feet away. He had the voice like a hyena, high-pitched and laughing. even when nothing was funny.

He was thin and muscular, tanned with broken bones and mean eyes. His arms and chest were covered in tattoos, and he sat with a laptop computer and a recliner that looked like the one my dad owned, but even older and covered with even more holes. Unlike you, I had to actually talk to the cop. You just got to run away, same as last time. It's my face out there everybody sees all day long.

That's why I told you. I'm taking 60%. I don't care if you don't like it. The hyena-sounding man, who I'd begun to think of as Santa's elf, stood up and the laptop crashed to the floor with a bang. Cords was standing out on his neck as he raised a tattoo-covered fist

and stuck out a finger, pointing it at downtown Santa. You're just a distraction. If anybody should be getting more, it's me. What you do takes no skill, nothing. I'm the one who has to lift the damn keys. why you ask little Jimmy what he wants for Christmas? It's my van, my gun, my job.

Just be happy I'm giving you 40%. It should be 30 after this. Oh, you're going to make it 30 now, you piece of... The next thing we heard was a scuffle as a two men began to fight between themselves. Then suddenly, one of the boxes on the shelf beside us went flying, and we jumped back to see downtown Santa had been thrown through the shelf. I was now in the aisle we were hiding in.

The boxes in between us, and them had been empty, providing us no real protection whatsoever. Hey, there's kids over here. Lem, grab the gun. Neither of us liked the sound of that, and we got up and tried to run away, but found he had a firm hold of us both. The tall, red-suited man picked us both up like puppies and lifted us up by the backs of our coats. He was stronger than he looked, and definitely not old like Santa. Don't use my name, you idiot. The other man came around with a gun pointed at us.

Downtown Santa was holding us both up by the backs of our coats as we struggled, but eventually relented seeing the gun. What the hell are you kids doing in here? Hey, you're the kid from downtown. They must have followed us here. We both stared, bawling and asking them to let us go, and downtown Santa reluctantly led us to the ground, still holding us both firmly in place.

What did you see, little boys? You want to be good for Santa, don't you? He asked, his grey beard in my face, smelling like ash and stale cigarette smoke. Nothing, I swear, we didn't see anything. Please, let us go. We won't say anything. The tattooed man came over with a gun and pointed it at us.

My heart was hammering in my ears and I barely heard what he said with how afraid I felt. He said it again. and I did what he asked. Give me a wallet. You little freaks got wallets, IDs. We handed them over. Ryan had gotten a leather wallet the year before for Christmas

and I'd asked for one for my birthday. It had my health card in it and my library card, a bank card and some loyalty cards and things like that. Ryan's wallet was about the same. After looking through them both, the tattooed man smiled. He nodded at downtown Santa.

You boys have keys for your houses, don't you? To get inside when your parents aren't home? I was too terrified to lie about it. I handed him my only key which opened the front door of my house. Ryan did the same. All right, now you two be good boys and run home. You tell anybody who saw Santa and his elf here. Well, you'll be in big trouble, said downtown Santa.

But if you keep it a secret, you might just be. just get that present you asked for. What was it again? A PS5? And you wanted one too, didn't you, Ryan? We nodded our heads, and they pocketed our keys, and he took pictures of the contents of our wallets. So, don't tell your parents, got it?

Santa can see you while you're sleeping, and he knows when you're awake. Not only that, he knows if you snitch on him, understand. So keep your mouth shut. You don't tell your friends. your brothers, sisters, nothing. You don't say a word about this to anyone. You take it to your graves,

or else St. Nick will send Jack Frost for you while you're sleeping to put you on ice. Get it. Again, we told him we understood, and I tried to contain the contents of my bladder as I waited for him to dismiss us. Eventually, he did. The elf waved his gun at us and ushered us out of the warehouse,

handing us two candy canes on the way out of the warehouse, on the way out of the door. Merry Christmas, he said, slamming it shut loudly behind us. We made a pact between the two of us, not to say anything to our parents, or to anyone else for that matter. We kept it between the two of us. At least I did. Ryan told his parents the truth, at least about what he'd seen. He left me out of it, though, not mentioning that I was there with him.

He told me later that he didn't want to involve me since it was his decision to go against what downtown Santa had told us. The police raided the warehouse the day before Christmas Eve and found only the tattooed elf man who had been with downtown Santa. The man who had threatened us with a gun was arrested, but his partner in crime wasn't found. None of the keys were recovered either. All of them were mysteriously missing.

That Christmas morning, I awoke and ran out to the living room with excitement, happy to find a big new present under the tree which had not been there the night before. My parents saw it as well and my mom clutched my dad tightly. After a minute of debate, my dad approached it and lifted up the gift tag, reading it as if it were attached to the toe of a dead body at the morgue rather than a present. It says it's for Jacob from Santa. Can I open it? I asked. Maybe it's my PS5. The tag says for being a good boy and keeping your promise.

What does that mean, Jacob? Do you know anything about this? That was when it hit me. It wasn't a gift from the real Santa. It was from the other one, the one who would threaten us. I had completely forgotten his promise. I hadn't even consider the fact that he might follow through on that part of it. Sorry, son, I think I should at least take a look first.

We don't know where this came from. I didn't object. In fact, I was more than a little concerned as he began to tear out the seams of the gift. He peeled back the wrapping paper slightly. Slowly he tore the paper off further and further, his hand shaking. Beneath the festive Santa print wrapping paper was a large, plain brown cardboard box. Unsealing the top of the top of the top. top of the box cutter. My dad opened it up.

Huh? he said. I'll be damned. It actually is a PS5. I guess it's for you, Jacob, but I don't know where this came from. Do you, Marie? My mom shook ahead, looking nervous but slightly hopeful. They'd wanted to buy me the gaming system. I knew that much, but they just hadn't been able to afford it. It's a miracle, my mother said quietly. We couldn't afford it and he just shows up under the tree. I wasn't excited by the sight of it, despite her hopeful thoughts. And as my dad pulled the PS5 package out of the larger box, I was secretly expecting something bad to happen. I just didn't know what. Then, before I knew what was happening, my mom started screaming. The PS5 box was bloody on the bottom, dripping red onto the carpet.

I couldn't help it. I stepped a few feet closer and looked inside the big gift-wrapped box that my dad had opened. Beneath the PS5, downtown Santa had left another present. This one was for me as well. Another warning to keep my mouth shut. Ryan's dismembered head was rolling back and forth off balance at the bottom of the gift box, looking far too small for such a large container. His open eyes stared up at me, blank and vacant.

His mouth was open and I saw something dark, had been stuffed inside a lump of coal.