CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "To My Old 4th Grade Classmates in Mrs Barther’s Biology Class. It's Coming For Me" Creepypasta

Episode Date: September 25, 2020

AUTHOR'S SUBREDDIT► https://www.reddit.com/r/Badfakesmiles/AUTHOR'S TWITTER► https://twitter.com/BFSWritesCREEPYPASTA STORY►by badfakesmiles: 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►Biagio D'Alessandro: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/GdnK4SUGGESTED 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-

This is an open letter addressed to the 27 other students who endured the strange and traumatizing events that happened during our fourth grade biology class. I know that we all chose to keep silent and buried the memories. Some of you probably went to a therapist, some even might have moved on. But I know the majority of you are still haunted by the past like me. However, if you're reading this and you're not a part of said class, please go ahead and tag along with this story. Because at this point, I desperately need all the help I can get. My name is Nathan Gan, but people call me Nats. August was the first to call me that nickname, ever since a cloud of Nats chased me back in kindergarten.

Same with a constant shoving and tripping, he never stopped teasing me about it. So, it grew on me, and everyone else started calling me Nats by default. As you can see, we lived in a pretty typical element. elementary school life back in Oaks. That's until fourth grade came and a new biology teacher was added in the faculty. Veronica Schwartz Bartha

was her name. She had big sunken eyes to match a tall and thin frame. Her hair was dry and frizzy, but was always tied into a bun. She always wore long, dark and purple dresses matched with red heels.

It made her stand out from the pink and orange blouses worn by the other teachers. Her thin lips made it possible for her to smile with just her teeth and gums, but her voice was surprisingly soft and gentle. It always sounded like a mother telling her child that it'll be all right,

ironically. She would always call our class her angels, or the perfect set of children she always wished she had. But of course, it was all just a front. We were all ass-kisses, and she never found out. Or maybe, we were just too scared.

She was very fond of us. Some might even say obsessed. No, she was obsessed. I try my best to recall everything that happened, but I can only remember some stories to refresh your memories. Only stories that my gut could handle. I remember August Bowers and the soggy towels. When she introduced the topic about microorganisms,

she taught us that body odour is caused by bacteria, and that's why we all stank after fizzhead. After that lesson, she instructed us to wear small towels under our shirts to catch sweat. She wanted to bring those towels home so she can take a snapshot of the bacteria and show it to our class. She collected our soggy towels for the whole year, but she never gave us any snapshot. One time, us boys were overstaying inside the locker room, but only for about five to ten minutes. We were talking, laughing, playing and teasing. well, most of the teasing was directed at me.

Everyone was enjoying when the door suddenly opened and she walked inside the room. The cheerful noise stopped and a creeping silence replaced it. She just stood there, staring at us, for a good minute. Then she directed her eyes to a shirtless August and the most disgusting smile painted across her face. You have a nice build, nice height.

your parents must be very proud they produced you. She grouch to meet August's eyes. If only I could bear a child like you, like all of you. August didn't say a word, but we could all seem trembling in fear. I assume the towels are done? She pulled a plastic bag from a pocket and we placed our towels one by one. We all left without saying a word, but she stayed. inside the locker room for a quiet amount of time.

If you think that was weird, I also remember Emily Briggs and the Cut Cut Cutt Cut Song. She would have us break our fingers and put a drop of blood in a slide to observe it under a microscope. I would guess you'd have thought this was pretty normal for a biology class. But the thing is,

she made us do it once a month for the whole year. I could never forget what happened to Emily Briggs. The first time we were instructed to do it, do it. She was scared of pricking a finger. When Mrs. Barthas saw this, she approached her. What's wrong, my angel? She softly asked. We all stared at both of them.

I don't want to prick my finger. But it's for the class. I'm scared. Do you want me to do it for you? Mrs. Barthor took the needle. No, I'm scared. It's going to hurt. Emily sobbed. We all expected Mrs. Bartha to frown.

We thought it was finally the day we get to see her mad. But instead, her toothy smile grew much, much wider. Do you want me to cut them instead? Mrs. Barthers' words echoed within the four corners of the room. Emily stopped crying out of shock. All of us confused with our mouths half open, Mrs. Bartha went back to a desk and grabbed. a pair of scissors. She approached Emily again, sniping the scissors as she took each step,

swaying her head from left to right, while rhythmically singing the word, cut. Cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, as she approached Emily's desk. Our hearts dropped at each snip with a large pair of scissors. With a shaking hand, Emily took the needle and pricked her own. Snot and tears mixed her awful crying. making gross bubbles from her mouth. Mrs. Bartha dropped the scissors and patted her head, telling her how she was a good girl, while everything was dripping off of Emily's face.

Every time after class, when our little microscope session is done, and we've all left, she would twirl around the classroom, grab our slides and collect them in an ice box. She looked like a fairy, snagging teeth from our pillows. I watched silently from the corner of the door

and followed her outside the building, She vanished deep inside the woods, past the parking lot behind our school. To this day, I have no idea what she was doing with those blooded slides. Most of the horrifying experiences were ones we all shared, where we all, if not some, witnessed together. But the one that really haunts me until this day is something I alone had to go through. I remember the cups. At every start of the class, she would lead us out to her. and have us form online.

We would all go to the comfort rooms as a class. She made us go by batches of ten, five boys and five girls. She told us it was the minimised instances of us asking to go out and peaked during lectures. What was odd was she instructed

us to never flush the toilet after we pee. She would go inside after each batches done, take about ten minutes and flush it herself. It was pretty odd, but we never really questioned it since it was the least strangest thing she's ever done. One day while taking her exam, I excused myself to go to the bathroom.

It was the quarterly exam, so the school corridors are mostly empty. While I was walking in the hallway, I heard a strange clacking noise behind me. When I looked back, no one was there. I continued walking and heard it again, like someone was following me. When I looked back No one was there Except this time I saw it

Hiding from behind the lockers It was a purple dress My stomach churned And my palms started to sweat I slowly walked forward But with my head still turned Keeping a close eye on the dress That's when she eerily peaked

Half her head out And those big sunken eyes Was staring directly at me I immediately looked away and started to walk faster. The clacking noise started to get faster as well. When I looked back, she was in the middle of the hallway, covering her face. But even so, her sharp shoulders revealed her chuckling behind her bony fingers. I started to run.

When I reached the bathroom, I hid inside one of the cubicles. My heart was pounding and my blood was pumping inside my ears. While catching my breath, I noticed that the toilet was. tank was slightly opened. I don't know what possessed me, but there was a nagging voice inside my head that something was strange when she takes ten minutes to flush five toilets. So, I opened it. Lots of cups, around seven to ten of them, all filled with amber liquid. The most terrifying thing is that it was our pee.

Each cup is labelled with our name, August. Dominic, Howard, Lance, Nathan. My trembling hand tried its best to put the lid back on, when suddenly the comfort room door creaked. It was slow and loud. I tried to stop my breathing, praying she won't notice me inside the stall. I heard her take careful steps.

The sound of her heels clapped against the tiles. Closer. She got closer and closer. Until I heard her stop, in front of the cubicle I was in. There was nothing but silence for the next five minutes. That's when I foolishly got on all fours and took a peek at the outside of the cubicle.

She wasn't there. No heels were outside my cubicle. I sighed in relief. When suddenly a red shoe dropped from the sky. I slowly looked up and there she was, hanging on the cubicle door, looking down on me. Are you done, Than Than? She asked.

I was shocked and flinched and slipped. I almost hit my head at the edge of the toilet. She got down and opened the door. When I was up and standing, she crouched and got closer to my ear. You need to get back to class, she whispered, caressing my hair. I ran as fast as I could out of the comfort room. A stream of warm liquid streamed down my leg as I ran back into the classroom. I could never forget that incident and would still have nightmares about it.

What would keep me up at night, however, is that when I got home, I felt a burning sensation on the back of my neck. When I took a closer look, there was a scratch mark deep enough to cause a small wound, like she was trying to scrape my skin. I'm sure every one of us felt that Mrs. Barthor was somewhat odd, but I'm here to confirm to you that this woman, was absolutely crazy. The soggy towels, the slides, the cups.

They were all just things to think about, things that remained a mystery. But I wish they just stay that way. I wish I didn't have to find out. It's been 14 years since the events inside our biology class happened. I've already graduated college and I'm trying my shot as a digital designer.

I know that most of you tried to forget it. some of you might have moved on, but for me, it all came crawling back from the grave, and now, that thing is coming for me. It all started last week when I got a random call. It was a nurse,

asking if my name was Nathan Gan, and if I could remember my former biology teacher. I naively answered yes, and I was put on hold. When the music stopped The same voice That same sick Soft voice greeted my ears again

Than Than I froze I couldn't see it But I knew I damn well knew She was wearing That sick

Smile She was dying That sick woman was dying Well according to her and a nurse I don't know how she got my number, but she was able to call me. And the last request? To see her angels once again before she passes away. I was in a strange position.

I honestly didn't know what to do or what to feel. I had shivers down my spine, just hearing her call me that nickname. But then again, she's a dying old lady who never had any children. And the closest ones she got was us. So, I posted and tried to call out to you guys. To my classmate in Class B2 of Oak Elementary School, I bring to you news that our former biology teacher, Mrs. Bartha, is sick, and her chances of surviving aren't all that favourable.

She told me her only wish is to see us again. If you'd like to join me, please respond below. I waited for anyone to respond, even if just one, to come with me to the hospital. I can't say I was surprised But no one replied I spent hours and hours Contemplating if I should go or not

Paced around my room biting my nails As I think about other alternatives Like sending flowers or a fruit basket But then some random thoughts about a ghost haunting me Would pop inside my head Further convincing me to go I was having second thoughts And whether the events that happened back in fourth grade

Or as terrible as I remember that maybe I was just being too harsh on the old lady With these things considered I decided to go It was noon Entering the hospital sliding door The floor was glossy But it was barely white anymore

The same goes to the walls That were beige and hue The stench of disinfectants and mould Were dancing in the air The lobby had a few potted plants But was barely alive Almost like the patients who were roaming around with wheeled chairs and dextrose.

I approached the nurses station and asked for a room. The nurse that attended to me had paused in fair skin and bright red lips. Although the dark circles in her eyes either suggested she's tired or just a frequent smoker. 612. I couldn't knock on room 612. I stood there for a good five minutes, trying to bite the skin of my lips. I didn't know what to expect. my mind was conjuring up scenario after scenario

I wondered what she would look like would she be weakly would she be alive and well and all of this was a meticulous plan to kill me the same nurse red lips tapped me from the back go on she's been waiting ages for you guys

none of her previous calls came that was my answer I had to knock come in A frail voice came from the other side. I'm not sure while this scene that greeted me after opening the door shocked me. The windows are open wide and silken curtains were dancing as the sunlight entered the white room. On the window sits a beautiful tulip, purple like the colour she once wore.

And on the bed, decorated with small blue polka dots, was an old lady. Her eyes were still as big, but had a more gentle stare. Her grey hair was flowing to her shoulders And a smile was pure Excited but touched Than Than The soft voice felt like it finally belonged to her Her eyes started to shimmer

Brought by tears that came streaming down her face I approached awkwardly And How are you, Mrs. Bartha Escape my lips so naturally I found myself rid Of the terrifying image of her in the past I sat beside her

She made me talk about my life after fourth grade My life in high school and college It didn't feel invasive or anything It felt like feeding a mother's desire to reconnect to her son I felt her genuinely being proud and happy for me Through every beat of my story When I figured that no one will come see me I decided to write letters to my angels instead

Letters, I asked Yes, here. I figured I'd handed to you in person since you were coming. I sent everyone the same thing. She reached the white envelope from inside a pillowcase. It had slight creases and a couple of coffee stains on the side.

I hope it was coffee. I stayed and chatted with Mrs. Bartha for quite some time. We were even laughing at some point. For a moment, my heart was filled to the closure and forgiveness. Even if we never brought up the things that happen in class. Red lips knocked on the door

and reminded me that visiting hours were almost over. I was surprised, looking at my phone. 8.34 p.m. I got up and said my goodbyes, grabbing the letter with me. When I got outside the room, I felt like I was brought to another dimension. It wasn't covered with warm, mouldy beige,

but instead, the hallways were dark, almost to the tint of green. There were lights on the light, the ceiling, but there would be at least one or two broken ones every six feet. I felt like taking a pee first before leaving, so I looked up for signs of a comfort room. I walked the dark hallways alone. So I thought, I didn't get that far before I started to hear footsteps. I looked behind me, only to stare at a long, black abyss. I continued walking. My steps slightly sped up, but the footsteps got faster as well, almost like running.

It sounded bare, like wet feet hitting bathroom tiles. I tried to ignore it, but I heard it come closer. It was approaching me. I looked behind me with fists clenched this time. And there she was. Standing just beneath a flickering light was Mrs. Bartha, naked while covering her face. Her skin sagged all.

over a body, a grey hair flowing down to her waist now. I didn't need to see her face to know she was chuckling. Her moving shoulders gave it away, again. I refused to believe the terrifying figure that was in front of me, so I closed my eyes as tight as I could. Go away, go away, I whispered to myself. I loosen the muscles of my eyelids, slowly opening them. There was no one.

I breathed a sigh of relief and continued to the comfort room. While inside, flashes of what happened to me back in fourth grade appeared in front of my eyes. Her sunken eyes, her sickening smile filled with thousands of teeth. When suddenly, I heard the front door of the comfort room creak open. It was a familiar situation, and my heart started pounding. I started hyperventilating. I looked at where the sound came from. only to see the door was slightly opened.

A bony and sagging arm came inside and reached for the light switch suddenly. Everything went pitch black. I panicked. My hands were feeling for the cubicles. I carefully stepped and tried to navigate inside the dark bathroom, casually slipping on the grimy tiles.

When I found an empty cubicle, I locked myself inside. I pulled out my phone to turn on the flashlight, looking up and down for any signs of her. That's when the door from the cubicle on my right suddenly opened. I had enough. I wasn't going to wait for my eyes to see her. So I shouted on the top of my lungs for help,

banging on the cubicle door with my eyes closed. I felt the world closing around me. I was fearing for my life. Then the lights suddenly switched on. Sir, is everything right, sir? A man shouted from the front door. I got out of the cubicle, almost hugging the janitor that saved my life. The world around me was spinning.

The fear got inside my head. I rushed out of the bathroom and ran to the nurse's station. Bartha, I tried to catch my breath. Is everything right, sir? Please sit down. Red lips got outside the station and held my arms and led me to a chair. Veronica Bartha, she's outside a room. She's not sick.

I rambled on and on. I'm sorry, sir. I asked her to come with me to Mrs. Barth's room. Sir, you can't just storm it out of room. She stopped my hand as I reached for the handle. She knocked three times before gently opening the door. She wasn't there. The crazy woman wasn't there.

I looked at Red Lips reaction, checking for validity, that I wasn't the one who was going crazy. So, where is she? I raised my voice. That's when I felt arms wrapped around my torso They were thin as twigs I felt warm air on the back of my neck Gotcha than then

She hopped and rode my back In a panic I tried to shake her off me I felt her disgusting hands grab a feel in my chest As she laughed like an old hag Get her off of me, get her off of me! I shouted The walls felt like it was closing in and both the nurse and Mrs. Barthor's voice were getting muffled.

My head was aching and I was finding it harder and harder to breathe. The nurse was able to pry her off of me. I dropped to the floor, catching my breath, grabbing a hold of my sanity. The nurse was in as much shock as I was. She carefully assisted Mrs. Barther back to her bed with a confused face. When I got my bearings, anger soon filled my head. She didn't have any right to human. humiliate me like that, not anymore.

My hands were still shaking, but I asked her for a reason and why she was doing this. I was just trying to play with you again, Than Than, just like we used to. She smiled at me. Her eyes reverted to being wide and sunken. That insane and deranged look of her was looking at me once more. Her soft voice can't fool me again. You have to feel. Forgive me. It's just...

Her voice began to change. Crackling, stuttering. I've always wanted kids, and you were the closest ones I had. I looked at her eyes, and they had filled with tears again. I mean, ma'am, I get that, but... If only I was just a couple years younger, she interrupted me. I would have let you screw me. Silence, blanket to the room.

We simply stared at each other. What? I said, I would have let you screw me. You and all your classmates, so I can have angels of my own. A sickening and salivating smile painted across her face. My stomach was in shambles. I felt as if my gut wanted to throw itself out of my mouth. The nurse was equally mortified from what she just said.

Then she laughed. She laughed like a hyena in the night. I stormed out of the room. and the hospital and drove home. As soon as I got inside the house, I chug down a bottle of beer and opened another just as quickly. I felt the need of putting alcohol inside my system to flush the poison out. The feeling of fear and disgust wrapped around my body like a snake, squeezing the life out of me. I wanted to claw my skin off.

I wanted to bang my head against the wall. I paced around my living room, shouting, desperate to get it out of me. Then, I remembered the letter. I grabbed the envelope and gripped it tightly, tore it in two before I could even read what's inside. I flung the crumbled letter across the room. Clink, it was unusual for paper to make that sound. It caught my attention. For a second, it distracted me from the anger I was feeling.

I got down to investigate what it was. There was a small key inside the torn envelope. I picked it up and examined it. Carved in the handle, it says, Angel. So, out of curiosity, I picked up the pieces of the letter and formed them. Try to read what the key was for.

To my angels, if you are reading this, then there is a good chance I've passed away. You are the most perfect set of children I have ever met. To me, you were a blessing by God. There's a reason why your old biology teacher, died in a car crash and led you adorable, talented and gorgeous children under my care. I would like to share with you that reason.

Deep within the woods outside Oaks, I resided in an old cabin. I have sent you the keys to it. May you find the special gift I left for you. From your loving mother, Veronica Bartha. This is insane, was all I ever got to say before crumbling the paper and throwing it inside the trash. My phone vibrated. I was shocked. It was a notification from my post.

It was a comment from Emily Briggs, the once little girl who refused to prick her finger. Hey, I saw the letter. I'm planning to go. Are you coming? I wasn't sure why. But I had a bad feeling where this was going. Beans and Things. It was the name of the coffee shop Emily and I agreed to me.

top in. I did some frantic scrolling on a Facebook to check out what she looked like. I kind of felt like a creep, but you have to understand it's been 16 long years since I've last seen any of my classmates. As for me, I'll probably be easy to spot once I entered the shop since I was the only Asian kid in the class. I was feeling all sorts of emotions when I entered the shop. The smell of roasted beans surprised my nose and made it itch a little. My hands were sweating and my legs were jelly because I really wanted to bail, partly since I want absolutely no part of this crazy teacher's narrative anymore, but also because I was getting kind of insecure.

I constantly pulled out my phone to fix my hair and made sure my sleeves were rolled up evenly. I scanned the room for a girl with black hair wearing a turtleneck and a beanie. There are a lot of them. Wish I asked for the colour. Nats! I go out from the farthest corner of the room called out and waved at me. She was wearing a pink turtle neck and a purple beanie.

I nervously smiled as I walked toward the table. We shook hands and sat down, waiting for the first person to start saying anything. It's been a long time, I awkwardly tried to break the ice. She simply took a breath. Yeah, it is. She gave me the warmest smile after. So, uh, you want anything? I asked.

Oh no, her eyes lit up. It's okay. August got us some coffee. My eyebrows wrinkled upon hearing his name. Wait, August is here, yep. I shook my head in disappointment. That was something she should have said before I agreed to go. I grabbed my phone and got up for my chair to leave, but a cold hands grabbed mine and stopped me.

No, wait, look, I know it's hard to be with your ex-bully. A concerned face turned into a smirk. Slash X. She raised the brow. But he contacted me first about it, and I just think there's safety in numbers. I breathed in with my teeth. Before I could reply, a familiar voice interrupted and headed to our table. So, Nat.

August was wearing the same old denim jacket and wearing the same lame as cologne. He sat down with three cups of coffee on a black tray, seemingly unduly. bothered. I was unbothered too. I was at least trying to act like it. I pulled my hand from Emily and sat back down, fidgeting with my phone. I was looking down, turning it on and off, but I could see with my peripheral vision that she was looking at me. August took a deep breath. So, nuts, how's a go? Why are we even going? I interrupted. This teacher screwed us up in just a year. She's just a creepy old hag. My voice was sounding more agitated.

What that disgusting woman did to me back in the hospital came rushing back. Emily had a more soothing tone. Kind of sounded like one of those ASMR videos you'd listen to. She answered the question by turning it back to me. You said it yourself. She's dying and she's just an old woman. It was ridiculous. Lots of past teachers are already dead.

Some of them are also dying. I demanded an answer as to why the hell we needed to fulfill this old hag's wish I clenched my fist from my blood boiling Money August replied That was the initial pitch I gave Emily And she came up with this altruistic stuff soon after

Seriously Emily's sweet voice changed A woman who seemed obsessed No, was obsessed with us, left us a gift She tracked us down and sent us letters we're probably like the only family she had. August confidently explained. Plus, isn't she a famous scientist or whatever?

It's probably her savings, man. He wasn't wrong, however. Going on this little hunt made sense. Whatever she wanted to give us was probably something valuable since she was fond of us. It was easy for them to say, since they weren't grouped by her.

But I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to regurg. I'd re-gitate everything what happened inside the hospital. I wanted it buried deep down inside of me. I needed this distraction. I needed to know what was driving Mrs. Barthor to act like this. She might not have been the best teacher, but... It's the right thing to do.

She's just the poor old lady. Emily reached my hands again. August slightly chuckled as Emily gave him the side eye. The word, fine, found it hard to escape my lips. The next thing I know, I was driving to our old abandoned elementary school with August and Emily. August called shotgun, because it was always shotgun, according to him. Can we change what's playing on the radio? Emily asked from the backseat.

What, it's too close to home? August replied with a smug face. We continue to ride while listening to Highway to Hell. Disasteful, but I got too much going inside my head to be bothered too. 9.27 p.m. It was a long drive, but we managed to reach the school. We parked the car just outside the rusty gates. Shining the headlights made it conjure up ominous shadows on the building's front door.

The gates were chained and locked. I pulled the key from my pocket and tried. It wasn't a fit. August pulled me back and proposed a different solution. He kicked the chains repeatedly. The noise was slightly unbearable. Emily and I got worried someone would hear us trespassing, but he actually managed to kick the train down. Leave it to the soccer player to open old gates.

After that, he looked at me and smiled, as if I had given him the pleasure of looking impressed. We travelled inside the dark woods with only our phones to act as flashlights. Apparently, the letters contained maps behind them. I was just too busy throwing it out to notice. walking down the path snapping twigs and crunching dried leaves helped me remember the time when I saw Mrs. Barther disappear inside the woods

with the iceboxes of our slides somehow it sent shivers down my spine that we were walking the same step she made the image of her the happy face of hers was flashing before my eyes as if she was just in front of us wait I called from behind them

my breathing was getting inconsistent and I could feel the trees closing in on me. I fell down to my knees. They rushed to my aid. You okay? We're almost there, Emily shouted. August pulled me back up and rubbed my back. I get them sometimes too, he whispered. Usually after I wake up from a nightmare.

Sometimes, even if I'm wide awake. He offered to turn back, though I dusted myself and told them that I was okay. I wanted to see it through. The cabin wasn't anything extraordinary. It stood in the middle of the woods, surrounded by twigs and leaves. Seeing the cabin's dark wooden exterior and dusty windows as we shined our lights wasn't really an inviting sight. The moon, although shining bright, wasn't helping the overall mood either.

I found myself nervous, knees were shaking as we got closer to it. We slowly walked towards the front door, and suddenly I heard rustling, noises from the trees around us. No, I can't. I started breathing heavily. We're literally a couple steps from finding the money, Emily then disclosed. I stared at her in disbelief, although August didn't look that surprised. Let's go.

Emily got rid of her calm and sweet voice, walking head on to the dark wooden door. August goes inside after her, telling me that we needed to help her. I followed soon after, afraid of whatever I might see lurking in the trees. The cabin interior was just as you expect a crazy old hag would live in. The living room in the kitchen were seemingly blended together, having almost no space for the three of us to roam around. It had a single light bulb in charge of illuminating the whole lot, making it less like a cabin to live in, but a well-decorated tool shed. The carpet we were standing on was mouldy and dusty, although the did. description fits rather well on the walls, shells and furniture too.

How the hell is this relic still running with electricity? August asked as he flipped the light switch on and off. Would you stop it? Emily told him, visibly irritated. Now, take a look at this. She didn't need to point it out, since it was the most noticeable thing inside the cabin. A door slightly opened with a busted padlock. We're too late, Emily grunted. I don't think so. August approached the lock and inserted the angel key. It fit perfectly.

If it was one of us, then they should have used the key. No point in wrecking the lock or the poor door. August opened the door and an unpleasant smell came out of it. We all took a step backwards because of how putrid it was. It smelled of rot and alcohol mint. Next, burning on nostrils. As we shine some light, it appeared to be a door leading to a basement. A chain dangling from the doorway suggested it was the light up downstairs, but it didn't do anything.

Well, ladies first, August smirked at Emily. With an annoyed face, Emily proceeded to descend into the darkness. You can stay here if you want to. August looked back at me. He was probably concerned But I took it more as a challenge During that time I walked past him

And followed Emily down the basement It seemed like a normal basement at first Full of trash But the more we moved around The more it got intriguing Stacks of wooden boxes Was scattered and piled against the walls The floor was made of cement

But it felt grimy and slippery Our shoes would occasionally make squishing noises in some parts of the floor, and neither of us bothered looking at what we were stepping on. Old stuff in an old cabin, except for the operating table, shining clean and new in the middle of the room. We all approached the operating table and found traces of shining liquid on its surface, dripping down on the sides. What the hell is this? It escaped my mouth almost involuntarily.

We continued to scan the room for anything worth bringing home. Where the hell is the money? said Emily. She approached the wooden boxes and tried to see if she could pry it open. I continued circling the operating table and found a bag of tools underneath. Surgical sores, syringes, hooks, clamps, all of it, blooded and clumped together inside a red bag. I flinched to the sound of broken glass. Emily clumsily broke a jar that she found inside one of the boxes. She stepped back and made gagging noises because of how bad it smelled.

I went to her to check if she was okay and to inspect the boxes as well. Inside the jars was the pea Mrs. Bartha was collecting. What the hell? Why are our names on those jars? she gagged. Opening the other boxes reveal the towels and the blood slides neatly stacked together. She was collecting them for them. sure. It was a thought I've always had, but never confirmed until that moment. Of course, to Emily, everything came as a shock. She started tearing up, asking us that we should leave. Emily, calm down. We need to...

Calm down! Emily shouted. This is invasive and insane. This is so damn... She stopped. You both stopped and stayed silent. creaking noises came from upstairs. Soon it started getting clear that there were footsteps, but then the pattern got weird and it sounded like multiple people were walking above us. What is that? Emily whispered. Probably whatever was inside this.

August called her attention as it was slowly walking back from something. She shined the light at what seemed to be a large metal cage. It was standing by about 8 by 7 foot. At the bottom of the cage seemed to be lumps of a red and brown substance. I couldn't stare at it long enough to figure out what it was. The bars in the middle were bent open as if something got out. Oh my God. I gasped, looking at the clipboard hanging from the right side of the cage.

Project Angel by Dr. Veronica S. Bartha. We heard the footsteps again. August signalled us to turn off our flashlights and pulled both of us in a dark corner of the basement. Whatever it was, it casted its shadow on the basement stairs. We all looked at it in horror with hands on our mouths. It wasn't a silhouette of a human or any animal we knew. We huddled together, cowering in fear. Then...

It left. We stood there, shaking, for a good ten minutes, before I turned on my feet. phone light, deciding to speak out and ask if it was time we get the hell out of there. In a count of three, we run upstairs and go outside. No looking back. August looked us both in the eyes. My world was spinning. This time, I was ready to vomit, but the adrenaline was keeping me stable. The three of us could feel each other's body shaking, but we knew that it wasn't the time to mess up. One, two, three. We sprinted across the basement.

The floor made it hard for us the sprint to our full extent, or else we would fall on our faces. Once we reached the living room, we all ran outside. We turned on our phones and looked straight ahead. Well, that was the plan. We only made it a couple of steps outside the house when I heard August stop running. I looked back to check on him.

He was standing still, looking up. It was like a choir. The sound of children's voices in unison, screaming. It was coming from the roof of the cabin. Brother, sister. My jaw dropped, and my hand could barely keep the light shining on the thing in the roof. At first glance, it looked like a spider. A gigantic spider whose legs span about six feet.

the more you look at it, the more you notice its grotesque features. In the centre of those eight legs was a mass of pink and blooded flesh, shimmering from all the mucus it was covered in. It was dripping with the same viscous fluid I saw from the operating table. On the body were faces, multiple disfigured faces, but they weren't indistinguishable at all. I saw mine and August's and Emmys and all the other classmen I could remember, our young nine-year-old faces writhing and squirming on the surface of that monstrosity.

I continued shining my light as it sang with the voices of my classmates. I was almost in a trance, frozen in fear after seeing all other eyes look directly at me, until I felt a big tug on my shirt. Nats, let's go! August screamed at me as he pulled. My leg started working again, and we ran. deep inside the woods as I heard the monster skitter from behind. We ran as fast as we could. Emily was several metres in front of us.

I could hear it lunge itself from the trees, rustling and crying. When we reached the school's front gate, Emily was already holding the door to the front seat, waiting for me to open the car. I hurriedly sat behind the wheel as August sat at the back. They both shouted at me to hurry as they scanned for the creature outside the car. I think it's gone, Emily whispered, as she frantically looked around for any signs of the creature. Any time now, Nat.

I'm trying, I shouted back at August, desperately trying to get the car started. As we were catching our breath inside the car, we could only hear nothing but silence from outside. The creature was nowhere to be found. When I got it running, I put it on reverse and turned the car back to where we came from. I stepped on the gas We reached quite a distance from the school And no creature was following us from behind We collectively sighed in relief

Well August chuckled Guess we Something big landed on top of the car Out of nowhere I heard the rear windshield shatter We were all screaming from the top of our lungs Nat

August was screaming in pain I looked back and saw the creature latching onto August, digging his claws on his arms, head and chest, trying to pull him out to the car from the rear. August was desperately clawing at my shoulders, calling out my name. I reached out to grab his arm and stop the car. Emily wasn't wearing any seatbelt, so she hit her head on the dashboard and knocked herself unconscious. I struggled to pull August as he was slowly getting dragged by the creature. I turned to unbuckle my belt for a second, and in the blink of her, and in the blink of her, an eye, August was pulled from the back seat as if he was nothing but a ragdoll.

I stumbled to get out of the car. Augie! Augie! I screamed out to the dead of night. All that was left was the trail of mucus and blood leading back to Oak's elementary school. I fell to my knees, unable to do anything. I stared into the distance until eventually Augie's awful screams. stopped. I sat down in the road, in the middle of nowhere, dazed.

The sun came up, and I was waiting for myself to wake up, waiting for my body to start moving. Do something. Emily woke up with a blooded forehead. I heard her stumbling outside the car, where she later sat down beside me. And cried. It's been a week since I last stepped outside my room.

I haven't slept, bathed, nor ate. There's not a day that passes that I don't blame myself for what happened to Orgy I also got word that Bartha passed away To my old fourth grade classmates from Mrs. Barthers biology class I hope you burn those letters I hope you never visit Oaks again What I saw inside that cabin is something I'll never forget Until the day I die

Which wouldn't be too long now I guess I was keeping in close contact with Emily after all that happened. She soon talked to me about how she could still hear this skittering from time to time. After that, she stopped answering as well.

So, I guess I'd want to end this letter with advice to the remaining 27. Lock your doors. Because I'm pretty sure I'm starting to hear this skittering from outside my house, too.