CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "We were always told to stay away from the Manson House" Creepypasta

Episode Date: July 28, 2020

STAY AWAY.CREEPYPASTA STORY►by CoffeeAndCandle: 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=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-

You always think your parents know everything when you're little. You ask questions and they say things like, I'll tell you when you're older, or you'll understand when you're older. When, a lot of times, what they really mean is, when you're older, you'll understand why I can't tell you, or you'll understand why I don't know. That's the way I always thought about the Manson House,

as something Mom and Dad knew, but wouldn't tell me. I think we all felt that way as kids, No matter what we said, no matter what we asked, the answers were always the same, a scolding for the kids that could be scolded, and then I'll tell you when you're older, I promise, are the terminally curious ones that couldn't be scolded into quiet. Children get older though, as the song goes, and we grew up with one single statement encompassing everything we knew about the mansion house. Stay away from it.

And we all did. except for Jen I always thought they kept us purposely ignorant until they thought we were ready to know about things like how you don't explain divorce to toddlers because they can't understand it but no

no it was the same old ignorance that plagued humanity for thousands of years they just couldn't share what they didn't know then again everyone has to live with not knowing a lot of things and they get along pretty or right personally I would have just been fine not knowing I think

except on my 18th birthday we got the call about the missing girl and all the men in town had put their name in the hat and old Jack Clinipshan called out Holden trust and suddenly the choice wasn't mine to make any longer how long has it been there I asked longer than me said Dale

spitting into a mountain dew cup Dale was the old-timer on the retrieval. That was the rule. One old, one young, so there was always someone who knew the house. It was supposed to be random each time, so the whole town had to share the burden. But Dale always volunteered for the older guys. He had been on every retrieval mission as far back as I could remember. He'd pulled a lot of people from the Manson House and given a lot of bad news to a lot of parents.

I'd met him a few times around town, but never really talked to him. I don't think anybody really talked to him, though. Officially, he was the head cashier for the town's gas station. Unofficially, he sold moonshine out of the back door. My mother said he spent too much time in the house, and he wasn't right. Now that I'm older, I think I understand. They weren't really afraid of him, but afraid he might bring some of him. kind of taint back from the house with him, because he'd been so many times.

That being said, nobody ever asked him to quit volunteering for the retrievals. Of course nobody did. It had rained earlier, and tendrils of mist were curling up from the hot, crumbling road as the old truck slid forward. We'd long since passed out of town, and there were no houses to pass by. The county wouldn't grant building permits out past a certain point. The trees on either side of the road seemed to bend over it Their leaves, nearly blocking out the grey sky overhead She are local, or... I asked.

Don't matter much, does it? I guess not. Just wondering if I knew her. You know a lot of kids, do you? He asked, looking at me sideways. I didn't answer. Look, don't do the thing you'll always do with a thousand questions.

and everything, it won't make you feel no better, I promise. Besides, I can't answer most of them. You don't seem too scared, I pointed out. Well, he shifted uncomfortably, making the truck seat squeak. You just get used to the fear after a while, I suppose. Have you seen Jen there? I asked him. He didn't answer. I hadn't really expected him to.

We pulled into the house's driveway Right as the soft rain began to fall again The house sat on a bear, grassy knoll Removed from the road about 50 yards or so Soft, lush grass grew all over the hill Without a weed to be seen The driveway was gravel Cut and veined by the summer rainstorms

The house looked like it had been abandoned Maybe 20 or 30 years ago Sometime in the 80s maybe The front door was painted in a baby blue that had mostly flaked away, but long strips hung off in ribbons that swayed in the breeze. From the whispers I'd heard, though, that was one of the strangest things about the old place. Nobody knew how long it had sat there on that little hillside out in the woods, but it always looked like that, like it had been abandoned about 20 or 30 years ago.

Even the style changed, apparently, according to my parents. It never changed when anyone could see it, of course. But, it changed all right. The house had quite a few names over the years. One family of Germans that moved in when my parents were young and left before I was born, called it the Kifik House, or something like that. I grew up with a kid whose family moved from Scotland, and his parents called it the Flannan Lighthouse.

Most people I know have always called it the Manton House, for obvious reason. What do... I started to ask. Dale glared at me sharply and held a finger to his lips. Sorry, I whispered. Dale shook his head. Quiet, always quiet. They don't like the noise.

They? I asked. He didn't answer. I took a deep breath and pulled out the little pocket flashlight I brought with. me. Leave that out here. I didn't answer, but my death grip on the flashlight must have been answering off for him because he shook his head and pointed at it. It won't help, he said. I promise, you don't want to be able to see too well in there. My knuckles were turning white from how hard I was holding the little light. I stayed up at the dark, cobwebbed windows and shook my head. Dale sighed.

Fine, bring it with you if it makes you feel any better. He started up towards the house, and I felt my heart race when I realised the old bugger was heading right to the front door. Dale! I hissed. He turned around, holding out his hand in a what-now gesture. The front door? Really? Ain't another way in. And, before I could answer, he mounted the creaking stairs and was standing in front of the door.

He turned around to look at me, waiting. I was afraid to walk closer to the old thing, afraid to leave the safety of the truck. But my name had been drawn, and there was someone in there that needed our help. So I held tight to my flashlight and walked closer. The grass rippled in the wind, swaying and caressing my boots like little hands.

Shadows clung to the corners of the building and I thought I could see things moving in the wind, windows. The woods grew closer on either side of the house, with the undergrowth creeping almost to the daylight, but carefully staying in the shade. The stairs under my feet creaked with each step, and each creak sounded like a scream in the quiet. I didn't realize I was holding my breath until Dale laid a hand on my shoulder. Breathe, he said grimly. Without waiting to see if I took his advice,

he gripped the old brass stone up and pushed. I thought the steps were loud, but the screaming hinges made me wince like I'd been struck, and I was taken by a sudden urge to run as fast as I could back to the truck. Dale's taken a lot of people on their first runs over the years, and I guess he knew exactly what I was feeling, which is why he stepped back, and with a sweeping gesture said,

After you, the hallway was dark, and the air that emanated from the dark corridor was warm and wet, like breath. The grey daylight pulled in the entryway, refusing to go further. The first step felt like stepping into the mouth of some great beast, with a gentle wind blowing past us and out into the open, as if even the air itself wanted out of the forsaken place. place. Closed doors lined either side, crooked and askewed on their hinges. Dale closed the door behind us and the wind stopped. He did it as quietly as he could, but even the click of the doorknop rotating back into place felt too loud and sharp in the dark. With the light

behind us gone, the hallway plunged into an oppressive and smothering gloom. The only The only exception to the darkness was a blue light at the very end of the hall, spilling in somewhere from the left and pulsing gently to the beat of a song that I could barely make out. I turned my head to listen. If you're going to San Francisco. I looked at Dale, the question written across my face in the heavy darkness. My eyes were starting to adjust and I realized I could see a bit better than I thought.

The blue glow silhouetted things in a strange way, creeping further than the light should have to outline small details in the hallway. He shook his head and shooed me forward. Each step forward took us further into a musty miasma of urine and sweat that made my tense stomach churn and gurgle horrendously. I thought I might puk, but I bit the inside of my cheek to fight down the urge. When we reached the end of the hallway I saw the light's origin alongside a sight somehow both more and less horrible

than I had spent so many years imagining At first glance one might be forgiven for thinking it was just a bunch of college kids sitting around staring at a television on the far wall Look a bit longer though and you'll see

The stillness was the first Apart from the crackling static of the television, nothing whatsoever moved. Dozens of them sat bolt upright, staring straight ahead, with their lips pulled back into sickening rictus grins. Their eyes bulged in their sockets, faint blue light glowing from somewhere behind them, and turning the sclera the colour of some bleached denim. Their clothes, too, were all wrong, with dozens of different styles, from old 1950s polka dot dresses to 1970s bell bottoms. There were the bright nylon jackets of the 1980s and the ragged farming coveralls of the

Great Depression. Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair. The sound drifted from the television without any of the sound that should have accompanied the writhing static. I could hear it now, as clear as day, but it somehow sounds. as if it was coming from a long way away, like the singer was across the lake from us, and the music was drifting across the calm water.

Far away or not, though, still it played. If you're going to San Francisco. Gentle people with flowers in their hair, sang Dale quietly under his breath. I turned and found him staring at the television with a dark, pain look on his face. I cocked an eyebrow at him, and he shook his head. He pointed across the room at a wooden staircase hugging the far corner.

The banister was broken in multiple places, and the stair runner stained a muddy brown. We hugged the outer wall and picked our way past the huddled masses on the floor. The first stair squeaked loudly when I put my weight on it, and every muslin my body tensed, ready for a flurry of motion as several dozen bodies heave themselves after us. But nothing happened. When my muscles unlocked from the sudden freeze

and the pounding of my heart quietened enough for me to hear again, I turned and looked out over the wind-dark sea of faces. None of them had moved. They weren't all suddenly staring at me like I'd expected with their Cheshire grins beaming at me. They just continued staring at that damned old television set. Only one move that I saw. A young boy of seven or eight with freckles on his face.

His head turned a fraction of an inch, like he was trying to pull against some magnetic force. I had a feeling that if I was closer, I might have been able to hear the tendons on his neck straining against that force. Whatever force he was fighting though, He lost and his head swiveled back to the screen. Dale made another shoeing motion and gently pushed me forward. Every stair creaked and every creek made me wince in anticipation.

But we made her way up until we stood at the top, staring down at the mass of unwashed, mindless bodies huddled in the pulsing blue of the television. Another hallway stretched out in front of me, with half of it open to look down, on the living room. Where is it? I whispered. End of the hall on the right, he said.

That's where they keep them, usually at least. I nodded and started down the hall, stepping carefully on a tattered rug to make as little noise as possible. The hallway up here was darker and I turned my flashlight on. I looked back to make sure Dale was behind me, only to find him craning over the banister,

searching the faces below. Dale, I hissed. What are you doing? He kept looking for another minute, then swept his gaze up lazily, and, with his hands in his pockets, strode past me, not answering and not bothering with a rug,

his boots squeaking on the floor as he walked. He didn't crouch, I noticed, or tread carefully in any real way. Instead, he strolled, like a man strolling through a girl, grey winter park. He reached the end of the hall, turn right and eased the door open. The room was nearly pitch black. There were windows along one wall, but they looked out into nothing but darkness, like someone had painted each pane with several coats of

the blackest paint. I shined my flashlight around the room, but there wasn't much to see. Well, there was the girl, but I mean apart from her. There wasn't garbage strewn across the floor or cobwebs in the corners or anything. It was like... Like a place made to look old. There was no dust floating through the flashlight beam, no smell of wet wood or mould. Just the girl crouching in the corner,

squeezing herself into it to just get a little further away from us, and the oppressive mugginess of the air. They all crouched down and held out his hand to show they were empty. He took slow steps towards her, and his voice changed. He'd spoken hardly a dozen words since I climbed into the truck with him, and they were short and ters, but now he spoke quietly and warmly, as he said, You're Rebecca, right.

She shook her head, still trying to push herself further into the corner. Her arms shook. She couldn't have been more than about tall. You're Rebecca, he said. Your parents told us about you. We're here to get you and take you home. Only two-thirds of that last statement were true, but I decided now wasn't the time to be pedantic.

Her arms stopped shaking when Dale mentioned her parents, but she didn't move. She stared at us suspiciously. I'm Dale, said Dale quietly. He smiled at us. then pointed at me. That's Holden. She looked up at me.

I read a book about a Holden once, she whispered. Yeah? She nodded. I didn't like it, though. Before I could think of anything to say to reply, she continued miserably. I want to go home. Can I go home? Dale wiped a bit of dirt out from under his eye.

Of course, we're going to get you home right now. I know this is a little weird, but I need to check a couple of things real quick. So can you turn around once for me? So can you turn around once for me and then lift both your feet up? She looked at him strangely. But he smiled at her again and said, I know, it's weird, but we have to check. And if you do it real quick,

then we'll be out of here sooner. That seemed to do the trick. And she quickly turned on the spot, holding her arms out, or Dale looked her up and down, then picked up both her feet up and showed them. The bottoms were absolutely black from dirt, but apart from that,

there wasn't anything abnormal. What are you looking for? I asked. I'll show you when we head out. It's easier to see from our beer. "'Did—did I do okay?' she asked. Dale nodded. "'Perfect.'

She smiled and looked so happy. I thought she might start crying. "'Okay,' said Dale. "'Here's how this goes, though. "'I'm going to go first, and you're going to go right behind me. "'Just hold on to the back of my shirt. "'Can you do that?' "'She nodded vigorously.

He nodded to Good Holden is about to come up behind us When we get to the bottom Holden and I are going to change places And I'll be in the back He looked at me I imagine you want to be first out the door

I was a little indignant at the implication But I mean It wasn't exactly wrong I had actually been eyeing the wind over the past minute And considered my chances of survival If I threw myself through it I decided my chances were probably not great He walked over to the door

Holding the knob in one hand Any questions Rebecca raised a hand then whispered What are they The things I mean The timbers of the house creaked around us And Dale looked at her for a moment They're just a bad dream sweetie

That's all Then Mott himself Just a bad dream He looked over her at me With a look that I knew said But they're not a bad dream for you So you better look sharp And then for good measure at the end

And don't be an idiot We stepped back out into the hall And the sound of the television reached me again The song had restarted some time while we're inside For those who come To San Frans Rebecca reached up and grabbed the hem of Dale's shirt and I walked close behind her as we made her way back down the hallway lined up like the conga line of the damned all those old Scooby-Doo cartoons

I had just passed the last door in the hall and we were almost back to the open space at the top of the staircase when a small bit of punched up rug caught the toe of my shoe and made me lose my balance I threw my hand out to the nearest door to catch myself. Unfortunately, the door wasn't closed all the way. So, when I pressed against it, it swung in with a loud creak and rebounded against the wall with a loud bang, followed immediately after by the sound of my elbow, slamming into the floorboards like I was auditioning for a pro wrestling career.

Damn it, I moaned, holding my elbow. I'd hit my funny bone and the entire arm was numb. I pushed myself up off the floor and that was when I noticed that the room was glowing with the same blue as downstairs. I squinted. There were shapes everywhere in the room, moving slightly, but I couldn't quite make out what they were. The flashlight had spun out of my hand when I hit the floor and I reached for it.

The fall had charred the batteries, so I had to slap it a few times to try and get it working again. When it came on though, and I saw the shapes, I found I'd rather wished I'd just left it off. The room was, well, if you've ever seen a crack house, it was pretty similar. Emaciated faces and bodies were laid across one another in every corner, covering the far side of the room, their ribcages squeezing and creaking with every breath. A thin web of glowing blue lines covered them all like a fine net laid gently over them all, burrowing into their arms and legs and faces.

The longer I looked, the more I realized it wasn't like a net at all, but more like a root system, digging its way through fertilizer. I had meant to scramble back from it, maybe shrieking in terror, but the shock had reached everything

before the fear did, so, against my own wishes, I found myself kneeling stone still on the floor when Dale laid a hand on my shoulder. What is it? I asked a little too loudly. He looked over his shoulder at Rebecca, who was still faithfully clinging to his shirt-tail.

He leaned in close. It's where they go at the end. The end, he repeated. So, everyone downstairs. I let the question. trail off. He nodded. I stared at them.

Some were so thin I could probably have fit both hands around their waist and touched fingers. Their ribs creaked as they breathed. The thinner they were, the brighter their eyes glowed. Dale pulled me away. Don't stare,

he said. Why? Because it makes it harder to forget. A noise sounded below us. A sort of freaking groan, and he pulled harder. We have to leave. We don't want to be close when it gets dark.

We left, and I made sure to close the door behind us, listening for the clicks of the latch. Dale and Rebecca were already at the top landing, staring down at the people below. Damn it. What? I asked, walking over as quickly as I could. I looked down. Damn it.

All of them. to a person was standing straight-backed and empty-eyed, staring up at us. Their blue eyes were glowing brighter, and I noticed that the same blue strings hung from every one of them. On some it hung from their fingers or on the back of their necks, or made a line in their clothes. But every one of them had at least one. People in motion. People in motion. What do we do? Don't show you're afraid, said Dale.

I looked at Rebecca, unsure or not she could do that. Unfortunately for me, she seemed to be doing a better job than I was. She'd set a mouth in a thin, hard line, I was glaring at the figures below with her hands, still holding Bell's shirt. We do the same thing we were already planning on. They're not going to attack us or anything like that. How do you know? I asked. Well, I mean, they haven't done it before when this has happened.

That's not encouraging, I hissed at him. Do you have a better idea? You're going to fist fight your way out to here? Just move slow and stay together. We started down the stairs one at a time. One at a time, with our new audience following our every move. Every creak of the stairs or squeak of rubber soles against wood made my heart stop. I was sure at any moment they would all rush us,

and the last thing I'd see would be those blue eyes bearing down on me. But they didn't. Their eyes moved and their heads, and when we got to the bottom, we changed positions with me in front. We couldn't go around the outside edge this time, but we didn't have to. They parted around with synchronized, subtle movements, perfectly in lockstep.

Rebecca was holding onto my shirt towel now, and practically pushing me by the butt to go faster. Then we were going through the throng and back into the hall, with the outline of the door at the end. It was right there, so close I could almost taste it. I couldn't run though, because something in the back of my mind told me that those things watching us were,

despite their appearances, predators. If I moved too quickly or ran, they'd attack. Step, by agonizing step, we made it down the hallway. And when my hand gripped that door-knob, I felt such a flood of relief and joy that I knew no other feeling would ever match it. No drug or raunchy ascapade would ever give me the feeling of being so alive. The feeling made me shudder. Dale leaned forward and patted me on the back.

Good job, kid. Even he seemed a bit happier. and he smiled at me. You did good. Behind him, they all stood together, gathered around the end of the hall, silhouetted by the pulsing light behind them, like blue-eyed shadows. For those who come to San Francisco. Then the music cut,

and the look of dread on Dale's face made my stomach drop into my boots. He spun around, and we all watched, waiting, involved. in a staring contest with people who couldn't blink. Then, the television on the other room started making another noise, like a radio zeroing in on a station. Dale, said the voice, oscillating between a little girl's falsetto

and the deep bass of an old blue singer. It sounded like someone trying to tune a human voice the way they might a guitar string. No, said Dale. He was zeroing in on the pitch now, with the range narrowed down to only include altos and sopranos, and on the last syllable, it stuck in a pitch and timbre that seemed strangely familiar to me and held out the name until the floor seemed to vibrate underfoot.

I shine my light down the hallway, just as the mass of bodies at the end of the hall shifted and parted the same way it had for us earlier. this time. A small girl walked out from the midst, dressed in a nightgown with soft brown hair in ringlets past her shoulders. We've... I've missed you,

Daddy. The effect of the voice was strange. The girl's mouth moved with it, but the sound was still coming from the television in the main room, making the whole thing feel like a poorly dubbed film. It had been so many a year since I saw her.

I'm a bit ashamed to admit that I don't even know I would have recognised her if Dale hadn't whispered. Jen, take my friend away, Daddy. She just got here. Please.

Rebecca twisted the place where she held my shirt-tail, her little hand shaking. Please don't let them have me, she whispered. We won't, I assured her. Dale? Why do you do this every time?

Dale asked. He laughed a little as he said it. But it didn't hide the quivering in his voice. It's never worked. It's not going to work. Do what, Daddy? I just don't want you to take my friend away. I just want you to see how happy and safe I am here.

Don't I look happy? In the light of the flashlight, the muscles in her face jerked into life, spasming like a spider's leg after it's been crushed, with part of her lips pulling up as the other side jerked into a frown before both sides reversed. With much twitching though, her lips finally managed to expose all of her teeth in something that, well, if it wasn't a smile, it might have murdered a smile once and skinned its corpse. Don't I look happy? The voice asked And she opened and closed the mouth completely out of rhythm with the words Her lips pulled so far back That she looked like those joke teeth you wind up

And then they bounced across the floor I hate you Said Dale quietly I love you daddy How can you hate me I don't hate you, Jen I hate the thing that's wearing your skin laughter erupted from the main room

and the glow behind the figures grew brighter as the little girl's head flapped like it was on a hinge the static effect from earlier started again as the laughter shifted between pitches before finally settling back into Jen's voice I'll wear your skin too daddy I'll wear your skin too you know Let's go, said Dale.

Dale, uh, now. I twisted the knob and we emerged back into the daylight and the soft rain. I didn't realize how stuffy the air was until I was out of it. And even with how hot and muggy it was outside, it was a gift from God compared to whatever we had been breathing inside. Dale slammed the door shut and held it for a moment, his hand still on the handle like he was afraid he might have to hold it closed against something

I started to ask what he was doing but then I heard him gently sobbing his forehead pressed against the flaking wood I looked at Rebecca who still hadn't let go in my shirt and she looked at the truck I nodded and we left him there

walking through the whispering grass back to the truck I buckled her into the back seat and we both sat there and waited listening to the gentle pings when heavy drops hit the cab some minutes later Dale climbed in two his eyes were a little red

but apart from that he was the same as ever he started the truck and peeled out of the driveway turning the air conditioning on high cold wind blew across my face but I was already shivering. You okay? He asked Rebecca in the backseat.

She nodded. Good. He changed gears and sped up a little. The tires cutting through the little rivers of water draining across the road. Not bad for your first go, Holden. You... You did good. Thanks, Dale.

I waited for a long minute. deciding to go for it. You're okay? He shot me a withering glare. His jaw set and his teeth clenched together. He shook his head a single time and made a cutting motion with his hand. I nodded.

All right then.