Creepy - Creepaway Camp 2025: Day 1 - Board Games & The Laughing Woods

Episode Date: April 3, 2025

Board Games***Written by: Nicki Brumback and Narrated by: Alicia Atkins***The Laughing Woods***Written by: Rhyan Pike and Narrated by: Shelby Scott***Hear more from Shelby and Scare you to Sleep at linktr.ee/ScareYouToSleep***With special guest appearance by David Cummings of https://www.thenosleeppodcast.com/***Support the show at patreon.com/creepypod***Sound design by: Pacific Obadiah***Title music by: Alex Aldea Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

This is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepypastas and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened or our simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. Are we there yet? No. Are we there yet?

No. Are we there? I swear to God, the next person who asks, Are we there yet, will be the person who makes me drive this bus off a cliff. And you know I'll survive because the universe has a sense of humor. But if any of you survive, I'll flay your skin off your body and use it to make this year's camp flag. Yet.

That's it! Are there cliffs in the bayou? Wait. there it is Oh cool, camp Looks like we're here everyone Hey John What's up

Why did we come back to the same spot as last year Normally you pick new places to go insane each year Are you kidding me After all the time I put into getting camp set up last year While you all were partying on Bourbon Street Haven't waiting to come back to the peace and seclusion Of her own little bayou creepaway camp hall Son of a bitch!

What? What's going on? Is it happening? John, did you plan some kind of party? Hmm. It looks more like a rave. Don't take this the wrong way, John, but you're the last person. I would ever have thought would have planned and organized a rave. Offense taken. But you aren't wrong. This wasn't me. I don't know what the hell is going on here, but I'm sure is shit going to find out.

John, who are all these people? Squatters? Worse. Podcasters? Podcasters? How do you know that? I can smell the desperation in need for approval. It's the same smell I wake up to every morning.

Ew. You all wait here. I'm going to go see what the hell's going on. Hey, Jimmy. A minute ago. What did you mean when you woke up and yelled, is it happening? What? Oh, I guess I just assumed John had finally lost it and went full Buffalo Bill.

One time I did that. It's your fault for not knocking during me time. I thought you said you were going to see what's going on. I am. It's just the thing I do now to see what people are saying behind my back. Desperation and need for approval is right. I heard that. You know, I think I recognize some of them. I mean, at least the ones who aren't wearing animal masks and dancing. around burning YouTube icon effigy.

Isn't that Shelby Novak from Scary to Sleep over there? Hey, Shelby! Shelby? What are you doing here? I like to party. Oh, hey, John. A bunch of freaking animals around here. Who removed the no skinny dipping sign from the pond? Wait, is that David Cummings from the No Sleep podcast?

Cannonball! David! Put your clothes on! Make me! You Minnesotans are such prudes! For the love of... Get back here, you soothing boys, Canuck. I'm practically Canadian. Sorry, Shelby. What were we talking about?

Um, I like to party. Of course, we all like to party, but... Why are you doing it here? This is a summer camp John built last year. I know. I'm here for camp. How is it possible that John is able to confuse us every single year, even when he does the same thing he did last year? Talent? That's not exactly the word that comes to mind when I think of John.

You two, get out of that tree. There's no way that branch can support what you two are trying to do. Shelby, how did juvenile... find out where this place is. I got the invitation. What invitation? What language is this in? Some sort of lovecraftian curse

meant to bring about the end of all that we know and hold to be sane in this reality? It's cursive. Avert your eyes! Give me that. You are cordially invited to attend a creepaway camp 2025 in April.

In the wake of difficult times, we would like to extend our hearts and homes to you all, so that you can get away, relax, and unwind. Not one word of that sounds like something John would say. Few, if any, questions will be answered. And you will probably leave more confused than when you arrived. That sounds more like John. All that we ask in return is to share your company and, if we may be so bold, to ask,

a story around the campfire. Directions can be found on the insert. Why are so many people naked? This place is great. Is that what it's always like working on creepy? No. No, I wish. There's so much less choking.

Not at all. When I run around naked, John uses his jujitsu skills that physically force clothes back on my body. So when do we all sit down and tell stories? Uh, no clue. This is all new to us, too. Plus, we need a campfire. Ah! Who poured gasoline in the fire pit? John, run to the pond!

I knew you'd come around. Well, the fire's lit. Anybody get a story? I do. It's called board games. There are things in this world that I can't explain. I'll be the first to admit that I was always a timid child, anxious, even of the things I wasn't certain were real.

I find that many who want to tell their stories claimed that they were skeptics before some event showed them the truth. That wasn't me. But I was also a child. Maybe I would have been grown out of my fear eventually, but I was never given a chance. When I was 14 years old, all those anxieties were solidified.

My eyes were open to the fact that there were things out there that my parents couldn't protect me from. It was a sleepover, my first, in fact. My family moved to a new state after I wrapped up the eighth grade. I was nervous about starting at a new school without my group of friends. What I had failed to consider was that a lot of freshmen entering the school were coming from multiple nearby middle schools. It wasn't a case where everybody already knew each other.

I wasn't alone. I quickly made a group of friends. We certainly weren't the most. popular girls in our grade, but we weren't outcasts and the four of us were close-knit. In fact, it became difficult to see one of us without the others being somewhere nearby. It was me, Andy, Rebecca, and Savannah. We'd go to the mall together on the weekends, study at each other's houses after school, and gossip between classes.

The year went by remarkably fast, and when school let out, Rebecca's parents decided to host us all for a sleepover. It was a dual celebration, in part because of Beck's birthday and to celebrate the onset of summer. I had never been to a sleepover before, like I said. I had been an anxious kid, and my parents hadn't thought I was ready. But I was close enough with the girls that my parents figured it was time. I packed a bag and arrived at Beck's house early on a Saturday morning. The four of us spent the day together along with her parents.

We spend the day at the lake, a little over an hour away. before returning to Beck's home for a cookout. Beck's grandparents stopped by to eat and meet their granddaughter's best friends. When the sun set, we roasted marshmallows and watched movies projected on the side of the house. I was certain that it was the best day that I had ever had. It was late when Beck's parents finally called it a night, and we set up our bedding in the finished basement, far enough from their bedroom that any noises we made wouldn't keep them awake.

None of us were tired. We sat around giggling over Savannah's crush on a boy in her hometown. I tried valiantly not to blush when I was asked if I had a crush on anyone. Careful to avoid making eye contact with Andy. Beck was flipping idly through a magazine when she suddenly sat upright with a gasp. She grinned with mischief and disappeared upstairs briefly, leaving the rest of us to wonder just what was going on. When she returned, Beck was holding a box in her hands.

The word on the box was obscured from my face. view, but Savannah groaned. A Ouija board. Dread twisted on my stomach, and I could only hope that it didn't show on my face. Savannah protested as Beck set up the board. She insisted that it was a kid's game, but it was obvious to me that she was just as creeped out by the prospect of playing with the unknown as I was. Apparently, Beck had bought the board with her allowance money and had never had the opportunity to put it to use. I looked at Andy, who seemed as excited as to her it as Beck to give it a try, so, reluctantly, I agreed. Outnumbered, Savannah gave in. We sat the board on the floor and formed a circle around it. Beck covered the rules, but I don't

think any of us were really paying attention. Together, three of us each put two fingers gently on the planchette. The planchette would in piece, shaped like a raindrop, that would point to letters should we receive anything through the board. Savannah had a notebook with a glittery purple gel pen to write everything down. For a long time, we received no response. We asked silly questions. Did Savannah's crush like her back? Would any of us become famous?

Would we become millionaires? Our confidence increased in the empty space between questions. Nothing bad happened, so we became bolder. Surely, this was all a game. It was Andy who asked the questions that changed. everything. When am I going to die? Suddenly the planchette jerked hard.

I yelped in surprise and was about to yank my hand away when I found that I couldn't move. Slowly, the planchette drew lazy circles around the board. I don't know how long that went on before it shifted over to the T. Letter by letter, word took form. Tonight. Andy looked between us, demanding that we stopped messing with. her, but even she couldn't explain how we sealed her arm to the planchette if it was all just a simple prank. Somewhere in the house, a door shut, making all of us jump. As if a spell was broken,

Andy was able to let go of the planchette. Beck insisted that the noise was just one of her parents moving around, and we should keep playing. Besides, one of the rules was that you had to say goodbye. Andy refused, though she claimed that it wasn't out of fear, just just that the prank had been stupid and she didn't want to play some kids game anymore. I don't know why I decided to keep playing. I guess, for once, I wanted to be brave. I wanted them to think that I was brave. So I didn't move my hand.

Beck smiled at me, relieved that someone was still willing to play. I was happy to be that person for her. It made me feel like I was somehow a better friend. It sounds stupid as a... adult looking back on it. The kids are so susceptible to that sort of unintentional pressure. I nodded to Beck to continue by asking the next question, but there was no time. The planchette moved without either of us saying anything at all. I see you. All four of us paused and looked around for a hidden pair of eyes, but we were alone.

Look up. My eyes went to the ceiling, just as a shadow moved across it. And suddenly the lights went out. One of us screamed. I'm not sure who. It may have even been me. There was a moment of silence. I didn't even dare breathe. I felt a chill pass over me.

Felt the sensation of icy fingers on the back of my neck. This time I was certain that the scream came from me. The strangled sound of it was ripped out of my throat. The lights returned, but only briefly. just long enough to see a dark form reaching out from the wall. Its features were indistinguishable. Whatever that thing was, it resembled nothing more than an ink stain that had come to life. A clawed hand stretched out towards Andy, who sat frozen on her sleeping bag.

Then the lights went out again. There was a rattling sound as things in the room began to shake. Popping and a flash of light came from the outlets. the smell of smoke. I ran. I didn't look behind me. I took off for the direction where I remembered the stairs being. My foot caught on the bottom step and sent me tumbling forward.

I caught myself and hurried up on all fours like a frightened animal. Part of me looks back with shame that I didn't call out to the others to come with me, but another part is more sympathetic for the scared child that I was. I ran from the house and did not stop until I was. I was panting in the street out front. I could see through the windows as Beck's parents ran for the basement in their pajamas. They rushed the girls out. All of us, even Andy, had made it out safely, but the fire spread.

The fire department came, putting out the flames, but the basement and half of the bottom floor were a charred mess. They blamed faulty wiring, claiming that we must have plugged something in without realizing that there was an issue. Insurance would cover the damage. But no one listened when we described what we had seen. Why would they? If it had happened to anyone else, I'm not sure that I would have believed it either.

Savannah, Beck, Andy, and I are still friends, but we don't talk about what happened that night. Not for a lack of trying on Beck's part. The incident inspired her a deeper fascination with the paranormal. It's something that she actively seeks out. Perhaps she hopes to find some explanation. She and a group of like-minded people go out ghost hunting on the weekends. They chase unexplained noises and strange drafts and abandoned buildings and the homes of fearful residents that reach out to them.

I'm more than happy to be left out of that. I can't even do horror movies. I still dream about that night. And that alone is more than enough for me. Well, it looks like someone loosened up on their no skinny dipping policy. I wasn't skinny dipping. Then tell me, John, why are you holding the no skinny dipping sign in front of your shame? My clothes and a good amount of my skin burned off in the explosion, thank you.

John, why don't you sit down carefully and tell a story. You'll feel better. You know what? Thanks, Danielle. But I'm not in a great headspace right now. I'm going to go in the bus, let whatever wounds. I've gotten in the short time we've been here get infected, slip into a small coma, and I'll see you all Sunday. But what are we...

I will see you all Sunday. John, you forgot your backside shame. Son of a bitch! You all really do live horror, don't you? Not intentionally. I like how you all take turns talking, too. It feels so inclusive. What about you, Shelby?

Do you have a story to tell? Of course. I wouldn't be here if I didn't. It's about laughing woods. I always believed that legends like Bigfoot, the Jersey Devil, and the Falk Ape were thought up by people with mistaken perceptions and a weak mind. Or some backwoods hillbillies trying to make a buck. off the publicity. That belief has now been brought into question due to the experiences I had on a recent camping trip. I grew up on the west coast of the United States, namely California.

But I was never one of the stereotypical wine-sipping yuppies, long-haired surfer bros or pot-smoking hippies that are all too prevalent in other parts of the state. No, I grew up. in a farming community in the Central Valley. My idea of fun was a weekend in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, camping with friends, sipping some cheap beer, catching wild trout in the mountain stream, and maybe doing a little target shooting. While others loved the cities and the lifestyle that came with it, I always felt the call of nature.

And whenever time allowed, or let's face it, finances, since everything in California cost twice as much as the rest of the country for no good reason, I would save up some money and take a trip to the mountains with friends to get away from all the pleasures of day-to-day life. The further we could get from the city, the better. My car was a late-model Jeep Wrangler with a four-wheel drive. I was bound to fall into at least one California stereotype, but unlike 90% of other Jeep owners,

I actually used the four-wheel drive. While California has many populated cities, there are also vast tracks of uninhabited land made available for public use by the United States Forest Service. Some of these tracks are so remote and protected that a permit is required for entry. I often took my getaways to the less restricted forests with four-wheel drive trails and primitive camping.

I have taken dozens of trips to these forests and have become so comfortable with the flora and fauna that I can recognize an animal from a single call in the dark. While many people have some innate fear of being alone in the woods after dark, I could not imagine a more comfortable setting. None of these trips ever required more concern or attention than a flat tire or some raccoons finding their way into the ice box and having a buffet at my. expense. Well, until my last camping trip. During my last trip, my friend Marcus and I had decided to head to one of our favorite locations in the mountains. Our secret spot was seven miles into the National Forest,

four miles along a well-traveled four-wheel drive trail, and then another three miles along a fire road, hidden by a stand of trees and often overlooked. At the end of this 14-mile stretch, we had found a flat meadow surrounded on three sides by a glass-clear stream, full of wild brown and brook trout and lined by evergreen trees. On the fourth side, there was a tall dirt berm that we could target shoot into without risk of ricochets. In the middle of this meadow, we'd a fire ring that signified the middle of our camp. More often than not, we would not see another soul for the duration of our trip. On this trip, however, we passed by another group that had set up camp about a half mile short of our secret spot. The group consisted of a man, a woman, and

three older children, two boys and one girl. The group gave a friendly wave as we passed, and we returned the gesture. As I stepped out of the Jeep, I inhaled the crisp pine-laden mountain air and felt ecstatic to be where my heart and soul were truly at home. Marcus and I set up the tents, unloaded the icebox and gear, and gathered some firewood in anticipation of our first night's celebratory bonfire. While we weren't scared of the mountains, Black bears weren't entirely uncommon either. So Marcus had brought along his grandfather's 257 Roberts bolt action rifle just in case we needed to fire around into the dirt berm and scare one off of our food. Marcus loaded the rifle and leaned it against a tree between the tents while we set up the rest of

the camp. Once our home for the next few days was ready to our liking, Marcus and I took a stroll down to the stream and caught a couple nice-sized wild brown trout to cook up for dinner. As we returned to camp, the sun was settling behind the pine trees, and the sky was filled with the oranges and pinks, too often blocked by the smog and buildings of the city. The sky served as a stunning backdrop as we cooked up the day's hall and settled in around the campfire. After a couple beers, Marcus and I were talking about everything under the sun. I had just recently gotten passed over for a promotion at work. He had recently gotten engaged to his fiancé,

and my brother had recently left for the military. You know, all of the ups and downs of life that we never get the chance to talk about when caught up in the day-to-day rat race. I was in the middle of listing the pros and cons of buying. a motorcycle to avoid the rush hour traffic on my commute. When a puzzled look came over Marcus's face, he was convinced he had heard something, a distant, out-of-place sound,

even in the stillness of the woods, far from any semblance of civilization, he was certain that he had heard, a little girl laughing. I chuckled at the thought, Marcus, we're 14 miles from the nearest town. There's no little girls walking around in the woods. Maybe you've had a few too many beers. He threw me a look and muttered at me to go fuck myself.

He added that he was certain what he had heard. Moments later, I heard the same noise that Marcus had coming from the back towards the road. He was right. It sounded like a little. girl laughing. About that time, I remembered the family that we had passed on our way to our spot. I reminded Marcus of the other group and he laughed it off. That makes way more sense. We talked a little longer and decided to call it a night. The next morning, we awoke at the break of dawn and cooked up a hearty breakfast of omelets, potatoes, and fire-brewed coffee

blended with some heavy cream. The food was always one of my breakfast. my favorite parts of camping. I don't know if we did something different or if it was all mental due to the environment, but everything tasted so much better while camping. I made fun of Marcus for getting spooked by little girls laughing and he had jokingly called me a couple of names. We talked about it and I proposed that it may be fun to stop in at the other camp and get to know the neighbors. Marcus agreed. so we loaded up into the Jeep and headed back towards the other side of camp. As we approached, we realized that there were no tents or vehicles, and the only indicator there had been anyone there previously

was the rock ring they had used for their fire. I suggested to Marcus that they may have gotten up early and headed out. But Marcus seemed unsure. sure. Marcus got out of the vehicle and walked over to the fire ring. He placed his hand on the ground in the middle of the ring. The ground was cold. There were no lingering traces of heat or charred wood, no signs that a fire had been lit the previous night. It didn't match up with what we had expected. No smoldering ashes, no evidence of activity. All right, detective. I joked.

So, do we go looking for little barefoot tracks in the woods now? Tell me, which direction were they headed in? He remained quiet, scanning the area with an intensity that felt almost out of place. The unease in his posture suggested that something about the situation bothered him more than he wanted to let on. Marcus seemed spooked. Seeing the concern on Marcus's face, I attempted to de-escalate the situation. Sorry I was giving you shit. I didn't mean to offend you.

A moment later, he sighed as if trying to shake off the feeling and shifted the focus back to our trip. Despite the strange circumstances, he brushed it off, deciding to let it go for now. Marcus and I spent the rest of the day fishing, BSing, and lounging around camp. Marcus had slipped on a rock while we were fishing and trenched himself from head to toe. Marcus was a good sport, and together we laughed it off. It was a great time, just two buddies hanging out in the woods. As nighttime approached, Marcus cooked up some homemade beef stew and Dutch oven cornbread. By the time we were done, I felt like I was going to burst at the seams.

As we sat around the fire, I noticed that Marcus wasn't drinking any beer. I asked him about it, and he just said that he was still thinking about the previous night and was worried that alcohol would magnify any irrational feelings. In solidarity, I grabbed two coax from the ice chest and tossed one over to him. The night was pretty typical for us, banter, jokes, and the random conversations that seem to come out only while camping. But around 1 a.m., everything changed. Marcus and I heard it at the same time. A little girls laugh sounded out in the distance.

We both looked in the direction of the sound and realized that it was coming from the opposite direction of the road. Marcus suggested that the family may have moved camp or gone a little further in to get a little further away from us. But as he was talking, another laugh echoed out. At first it only served as confirmation that we weren't imagining the sounds, but something didn't sit right. It wasn't until the third laugh that I realized that the sound was coming from the woods far behind us. The distance it had traveled in such a short time didn't add up. There was no way anyone could have moved that far, that fast.

The unsettling impossibility of it was hard to ignore, and I felt a creeping discomfort settle in. Marcus's expression changed. his usual confidence replaced by unease. Whatever was out there didn't feel normal. Without saying much more, we silently agreed. Maybe staying in the Jeep with the doors locked tonight was the safest option. I told Marcus that it didn't seem like a bad idea and stood up to grab the rifle.

Just then, we heard laughing erupt, back to back from four different directions. We heard a splash in the stream, leaves rustling, and branches breaking all around our camp. What the hell was that? I exclaimed. We have to go right now. Marcus and I ran, jumped into the Jeep, and locked the doors. The laughing quickly grew closer,

and smaller yips emerged in between laughs. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the light from our fire reflecting in the rearview mirror of the Jeep. As the flames danced in the darkness, they would momentarily vanish. As dark figures zipped in between the fire and the jeep, I tried to determine what was running through our camp. But the creatures were moving so fast that I couldn't see a defined shape. In the mirror, I saw the tense shake as the figures collided with them. My heart skipped a beat when a solid thud shook the jeep as one of the figures collided with the side of it.

I looked down and realized that I was still holding Marcus's rifle. Without thinking, I rolled the window down about an inch and poked the barrel out the window in the direction of the dirt berm. Marcus plugged his ears as I let a round loose into the hillside. The woods, when absolutely silent. No more laughing, no more figures, just pure silence. Marcus and I were thoroughly terrified and resolved that we were going to stay awake through the night and leave at first light. There was not a chance in hell that we were going to spend one more night out here alone. As the night wore on, however, our adrenaline high wore off, and at some point we unwittingly

drifted to sleep. I don't know what time it was. But we both awoke when screams erupted from the woods. There must have been eight to ten distant screams coming from different directions. The screams went on for about 20 seconds, and then the woods went silent again. That same eerie silence that followed the muzzle report of the gunshot earlier. If you aren't familiar with being alone in nature, nature is never silent. Even in the darkest of nights, the forest has its own ambiance of various insects, frogs, birds, and other animals.

silence is reserved for moments when a predator is near and the same critters are doing everything in their power to remain undetected silence in nature is concerning as we listened for any other noises Marcus muttered something about how they must have found what they were looking for we sat in silence watching the embers in the fire pit until the sun rose over the treetops

and illuminated the campsite. Both tents had collapsed, and when we inspected them closer, we saw long tears through the fabric. Other than our tents, our gear was largely untouched. Marcus and I didn't need to discuss it. We were getting the fuck out of there. We packed up our gear and left without further incident.

as the Jeep pulled from the dirt road onto the asphalt. For the first time in my life, I found myself thankful to be headed back to town. To this day, I have no idea what was in those woods. I have spent countless hours listening to animal noises of local fauna, hoping to find anything that sounded like what we heard that night. but nothing came close. Another one of my friends is a forester, and I asked him about the noises. He laughed until he realized I was being serious. He told me that the noises that I described did not sound like anything he has ever heard,

and he has spent years roaming those forests in connection with his job. I was beginning to think that I misheard the noises, or that Marcus and I had gotten so worked up, that we allowed it to affect our perception. That was until yesterday. I was doing my grocery shopping at the local supermarket. When I heard a laugh similar to the one I had heard in the woods, like a prairie dog, my head shot up and scanned side to side,

looking for the origin of the noise. Again, I heard the noise coming from the next aisle over. as I rounded the corner into the other aisle. I saw a woman pushing a small child in her shopping cart. The laugh again sounded and I realized that the child was pressing a button on the book she was holding. I approached the woman and apologized for interfering with her shopping trip, then asked what noise the book was making. The woman laughed and told me that her daughter loved animals

and that their noises in that book were one of her favorites. As I watched the button that the child was pressing, I saw a picture of a hyena on the face of the button. Now, I'm not going to say that there is a random pack of hyenas roaming the woods of the Sierra Nevada foothills. I can't even begin to speculate what would have made the noises we heard on our trip. If it wasn't for the shredded tents and the dent in the rear quarter panel of my Jeep,

I probably would be questioning if the events of that trip ever really happened. At this point, the only thing I am certain of is that the idea that I previously maintained where we as humans have observed all that nature has to offer is entirely incorrect. There are, without a doubt, creatures that have evaded human discovery. But in time, paths are bound to cross. This experience changed my entire perception of the world around me.

In the end, I'm not telling this story to keep people from enjoying the wilderness. there are beauties of life that can only be seen when you leave civilization behind. What I am saying is when you decide to venture out on your own, take the necessary steps to keep yourself safe. And if you get a feeling in your gut that something isn't right, trust it. It may very well save your life. So, um, is anyone else concerned that we just got here and John has already disappeared into the woods with a severe injury? Yep. Yep.

Oh, okay, good. It's nice that things are back to normal. I love camp. For more information on this podcast, including how to submit your own story for consideration, please visit creepypod.com. You can also follow us at CreepyPod on social media and YouTube. All stories told on this podcast are done so through Creative Commons Sherrillite licensing or with written consent from the authors. No portion of this podcast may be rebroadcast or otherwise distributed without the express written consent of the creepy podcast production team and the stories author.