Hey friends! This week I’m doing single stories on YouTube trying to figure out their discovery process but here at the podcast and Patreon you’ll still get the same 20 – 30 minute episodes 🙂
Enjoy!
The Ending
https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/The_Ending
The ending. A fitting term. It has, in fact, ended. I write this from my one small corner, the small space that I worked to deem “safe”. Every day, every horrible day is a struggle to stay sane. Ah, I am getting ahead of myself. I suppose I should start with a brief summary of what happened. My name is Ridley Peirce. I made a living as a freelance writer. I had a studio apartment in Toronto. I drove a Ford F-250. I lived on junior mints. And yet, I was still happy. Doing my passion, living in peace. Then it happened.
I use the term “it” because the public in general was never informed what it was. The widest speculation was that it was some result of pollution, thus is the general politician’s idealism. It took effect on the 16th of June, 1998. I remember it vividly. I was not getting any good deals on my scripts, so I was down on my money. I went to the corner store to get a few groceries, and I heard it. An absolute blood-curdling scream. I glanced toward the front of the store. Everyone was running. My first thought was a murder. I had never seen a murder, but I had seen a man get mugged, and that alone was not pretty.
It was then that I saw my first infected. In life, he was a middle aged man, probably worked construction, he was dressed like it. Now, in this state, he was clammy and pale. He had a long claw mark on his left arm, and his eyes were bloodshot and puffy. He is not alone. A careless shopper had gotten tangled in the crowd of frantic people, and the infected had gotten to him. To his good fortune he had had a quick death- his throat bitten out. He, as I had later figured out, was one of the lucky ones. The infected ate his corpse as I and the other panicked shoppers watched. A loud bang resonated in the air. The owner of the store had gotten his .12 gauge shotgun, and very quickly eliminated the infected. As soon as the infected who was in the way of the door was clear, I was out the door. My mission in life was now to get to my truck. I kept my Colt .45 in the glove compartment. I had a feeling that whatever these things were, there were more.
I made it to my truck, I climbed in, I locked the doors, I fumbled for my keys, and roared off down main street. I was shaken, and didn’t know where to go. I looked back, and saw the infected crowding around the store, attracted by the noise. As I drove by some houses and a coffee shop, I saw a large group of them. They were dressed like normal people. A company T-shirt here, a dress there. I was clueless. All that I knew was that I needed to get away from these things as fast as I could. Now, on me, I only had my knife, my .45, my keys, my wallet, my zippo, and some quarters. Not the best selection to fight the hoard with. As I drove toward my house, I saw not more, but tons more. On the sides of the road, Near houses, IN houses. as I drove, far exceeding the speed limit, I would occasionally glance out my window. I saw people running from the infected. People fighting the infected. People getting eaten by the infected.
I pulled into my driveway. I saw my neighbor running out of the building. I saw an infected version of my landlord running after him. I remember shooting him. Guess he won`t be bothering me about rent anymore. I ran inside. I ran to my apartment. I locked the door, and barricaded it with my dresser and bed. I board up the two windows. I gather my wits. I needed to find out what was going on. I turn on the T.V. Nothing. I sat down, and I waited. That was 5 days ago. I ran out of decent food 3 days ago. Running water stopped just before that. Oh, god, the dehydration is horrible….But I still have my handgun. 4 rounds. enough for 3 infected. if it comes to that, I’ll know what to do.
Wolfman Creek
https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/Wolfman_Creek
Living in Colorado as an avid snowboarder, you would probably think everything is nice for me being around some of the best resorts on the planet. My main problem: I hate those places. They’re overcrowded, overpriced, and frankly, not very fun.
I’ve always preferred the mid-sized ski areas that are a bit more off the average person’s radar. These places, with better value, crowds, and (in my opinion) terrain, can be a hidden gem amongst the competition. Other times, there’s more to the story about why these places are left more undisturbed.
It was 2011. The snowfall we had that season was quite mediocre. None of the ski areas anywhere seemed to be getting snow. The base depth at all of them was less than two feet, and it was already December! Browsing through some snow reports one day, I found an interesting little ski area that had nearly twice the snow versus everywhere else. A little place called Wolf Creek.
It was astounding. Everyone else had less than two feet, and here was this ski area with over four feet of snow! I naturally got a bit excited, and decided to look a bit more into the ski area. The trail maps I found on the website looked promising; it was small, but it seemed to have a lot of different terrain. The area seemed to be split down the middle in terms of what it offered; the northern half had all the basic runs, and the southern half was almost more of a backcountry style area, with just one chair and a majority of the runs requiring a decent hike.
Overall, it looked quite promising, and would be a fun place to visit. I asked my roommate Dalton if he wanted to come with me over the weekend.
“No way, man. Not going there.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“You want to have fun with the Wolfman, go ahead.”
“Quit trying to scare me and tell my why you don’t like it.”
“My friend went there a few years back and swore he saw this massive black creature lumbering through the trees off one of the runs.”
“You know, I think I’ve seen them too; they’re called bears”, I laughed back.
“No, he said it was definitely not a bear. He claimed it almost looked like some sort of…it’s hard to explain.”
“What, a werewolf?” I joked.
“It’s not really that, he just called it the Wolfman because of where he was. I won’t go, and that’s final.”
Not wanting to go to Wolf Creek by myself (I’m not scared, it’s just more entertaining with a group), I decided to call up my friends, Spencer and Christian. They emphatically said “yes” before I even finished asking.
That Friday, I loaded my gear into my truck, picked up Spencer and Christian, and drove down south to Wolf Creek. It’s a bit out of the way; four hours away from where I lived, not near any really major towns, off a highway in a bit of a desolate area. Slightly unnerving, but nothing major; most of these moderate places are a bit away from civilization.
We got our lift tickets and began messing around the northern half; the other parts could wait a bit. We breezed through a lot of the runs in about two hours thanks to the low crowds. I split off from Christian and Spencer for a bit to play around on one of the shorter runs. Just a little blue run called Kaa that met up with the original trail further down. It was an undulating run with a lot of dips; executed correctly, most of these bumps could yield a little air. Naturally, I was enjoying these jumps, and almost didn’t see the mess in the trees near the end of the run.
I only noticed because some of the snow where I landed was a pinkish tone that got darker as it moved into the trees. A rabbit’s remains were messily strewn about several feet off the run. It was quite freaky, but I brushed it off. There are quite a few predators out here, so I assumed it was just a fox. That was until I looked a bit closer. All the meat from the rabbit was still present; the rabbit had not been hunted for food, something just eviscerated it for the sake of killing it. Maybe the fox had rabies and was starting to go insane? Or maybe it was…no, I won’t go there!
I didn’t tell Spencer or Christian about the rabbit after we met back up. What would I tell them anyways? “Hey guys, I just found this really creepy disgusting thing in the woods that might be a sign of something really screwed up, want to go back for another run?”
After messing around for a few hours, we decided to hit up the other half; the more extreme areas with trees, cliffs, and whatnot. Not only that, less patrol and ski area atmosphere. I will say this area had some of the best ski area terrain I’ve ever experienced. The cliff drops were exhilarating, the tree runs were fantastic…one of the moments I truly felt alive.
And then I found another one. This time it was a skunk. Whereas the last one seemed like a fox or other animal could have done it, this seemed like…there was intent to it. The skunk’s head was smashed in, and it was sliced down the middle with its organs spilling from the cut. Christian and Spencer were with me this time, and they were truly disgusted. Only then did I tell them about the rabbit I found earlier.
“Okay, that’s really twisted. The hell do you think is doing this?” Spencer asked.
Christian began to reply with “Maybe it’s the Wolfma-“
“NO!” I shouted. “We aren’t falling for this cryptology-crap! Someone’s just…messing with us. I told a few people I’d be here today; maybe they’re just trying to perpetuate this bull.” I definitely didn’t convince them, and I’m quite sure I couldn’t convince myself this was the truth.
Christian offered a solution to try and get the skunk and rabbit from our minds.
“How about one more run?”Trail map of the area
He said he wanted to go to one of the most remote parts of the ski area: Horseshoe Bowl, which required a 45 minute hike from the chair. Spencer and I reluctantly agreed to go with him.
The access gates to the terrain closed a few minutes after we got through, leaving us with about an hour or so of sunlight; we had to hike fast and get out before the sun set, plus with the crap we’ve been seeing today, I wouldn’t want to be stuck here at night.
While great on the board, I’m terribly slow at hiking, especially in deep snow and high altitude. Thus, the estimated 45 minute hike turned into an hour. The bowl was great, but I couldn’t really appreciate it under the constraints we were facing. With the sunlight fading fast, we decided to try and cut through the trees at the bottom of the bowl to save some time.
Naturally, we got a bit turned around in the trees. We had essentially lost our race with the sun, and our brilliant little shortcut totally backfired when we were plunged into near total darkness. The temperatures dropped way low, and wind started to pick up, almost howling. There was no other option; we had to find our way out before we froze to death. And let me tell you, trying to snowboard through the trees essentially blind becomes a lot more terrifying when it’s a choice between that or dying.
Christian was ahead when we saw him vanish. Well, I guess the darkness began playing illusions, because he just went off a small cliff.
Then Christian screamed. Strained, horrified, and bloodcurdling. He was obviously terrified at something, but what?
Spencer and I found Christian with his leg snapped. Guess he broke it from going off that cliff. Natural reaction to such an injury. But it was what I saw afterwards that made me realize why he was screaming so much.
A deer. Completely skinned, hanging from a branch, with its entrails removed and neatly lined up at the base of the cliff. Blood was smeared onto the rock face, but the darkness prevented me from seeing if it was actual writing. I would have tried to analyze it more if the saplings nearby hadn’t started shaking.
We tried to calm Christian after we heard the rustling. Whatever was out there, we couldn’t afford to give it our location. The rustling got louder, and Christian began hyperventilating more and more.
Fortunately, it was just a squirrel scampering around the trees. No big deal, thought it would be a little more along the lines of—
Snow began crunching. Heavy breathing became more audible. Whatever had been doing this had found us. We unstrapped our boards and tried to hustle down the hill. Carrying Christian while running for our lives in deep snow was a real burden, and the noises behind us started gaining. Closer and closer with every step, until I could feel it breathing down my neck.
It struck with full force. A massive deformed hand reached between me and Christian and threw me off my friends. The darkness prevented me from seeing the thing’s details, so I can’t really tell you about its appearance, other than being massive (at least ten feet tall), roughly shaped like a disproportionate person mixed with who knows what kind of animal. I had to try and get it off my friends, so I hastily made a snowball and pegged the creature in the head.
It wrenched its head around and stared at me with a most grotesque grin spreading across its face. My image in the pale moonlight reflected in its eyes, its face coming closer and closer to me until I could smell its wretched breath. I had gotten the creature’s attention off my friends, but now it was fixed on me. Really wished I had planned it through more.
I tried inching back, but that set off the beast. It let out an insane cackle/roar and attacked. I saw its massive fangs within inches of my face as its massive hand smashed into my face.
And then I woke up in a hospital bed, hooked up to all sorts of machinery. I guess the thing knocked me out, as I have no idea what happened after the blow. The doctors came in and told me what happened.
“Ski Patrol heard screams from the mountain and found you at the bottom of a cliff with a fractured skull and deep lacerations. They brought you here, and we wasted no time. You’ve just come out of massive reconstruction surgery to rebuild your skull. With the damage we repaired, it’s extremely lucky you’re alive.”
“What happened to Spencer and Christian?” I asked.
“Who? Ski Patrol only found you up there. There were no signs of anyone else in the area.”
“What about the deer, and the blood on the cliff? What about that thi—“
“Calm yourself, delusions can be a side effect of the anesthesia you’re coming off of.” With that, the doctor left.
I still bear the scars from the surgery on my forehead, and I still have three cuts going diagonally across my abdomen. Spencer and Christian haven’t been heard from, and repeated searches of the area have constantly yielded no promising results or leads. I can’t think of my sacrifices in vain, and I can’t give up on them. Whatever this “Wolfman” is, it’s probably still out there. And it’s waiting for a new quarry. Keep track of yourself when you’re in these places. You never know what’s watching you.
Claws on Tile
https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/Claws_on_Tile
I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised when my wife asked me for a divorce. The stress of juggling work, our marriage and looking after our young daughter Emily had taken its toll on the both of us. We had barely spoken to each other in months. So when the day she told me that she wanted out came, I’m not ashamed to say a part of me was relieved. My relief was short lived however. She presented me with a bag of clothes and told me to find somewhere else to live. I won’t lie, I was angry. I mean, SHE was the one who was quitting the marriage, why should I have to leave? I may have said some things that I’m glad our daughter wasn’t around to hear.
After two months of staying in cheap hotels I finally found a place. It was stupidly cheap, I had my doubts but my ex refused to let Emily come and see me before I’d found myself some permanent place to stay. I missed her so much. I’d often heard how having a child changed you but I never truly believed it till she was born. She was always perfect to me, with her golden hair and little snub nose. She always had me wrapped around her little finger. Even when she’d been naughty, all she had to do was smile at me and I couldn’t bring myself to stay angry at her. When I opened the door to my new flat all I was thinking about was how she would be allowed a visit in a few short days.
God, that place was a shit hole. The walls were stained, the appliances were gross. I spent my entire first day just trying to get all my stuff moved in. When I finally got the chance to go to sleep I spent half the night being kept awake by music from a car outside. I had to bury my head under a pillow to get even a semblance of peace. When I woke up in the morning I was covered in insect bites from the tips of my fingers to my elbows. I was just glad I’d worn a T-shirt. It seems even the local wildlife was out for my blood. At least it wasn’t just my ex-wife. The spots where they had pierced the skin to sate themselves on my lifeblood itched terribly. I went to the bathroom hoping that a wash would ease my pain. I opened the bathroom cupboard to get the soap when I saw a tube of cream. It must have been left by the previous tenant. The label had been mostly rubbed off but when I unscrewed the cap it smelled antiseptic. I really didn’t want to wait for the chemist to open, the itching was too intense. I squeezed out a generous amount of cream and applied it liberally over my hands and arms. It stung like hell, but that at least meant it was working. It certainly soothed the itching at any rate.
The rest of my day was taken up by cleaning. I pulled on the rubber gloves and got to scrubbing. I didn’t stop until the place was spotless. If Emily was going to come over I wanted it to feel like a home. Somewhere we could be together instead of some depressing pit where her father now lives.
I didn’t stop until late into the evening. When I finally peeled off the gloves I noticed that the bites on my hand had somehow got bigger. What were once red pinpricks were now almost holes, deep and red. What I found especially puzzling was how there were no scabs or blood. Just a crimson redness. I assumed it was because I’d worn the gloves all day. I cursed myself for being so foolish and applied some more cream. I ate and decided to go to bed after watching some TV. Thankfully there was less noise to disturb me. I remember thinking how things might just work out after all.
I awoke the next morning to the phone ringing. I blearily answered and heard my ex-wife’s voice on the other end of the line. She irritably informed me that if I was still going to have Emily over to mine that afternoon, she’d need to see photos of my flat. Otherwise she would not allow Emily to see me there. As if I wouldn’t have tried to make it perfect! I took some photos with my phone and sent them over and she begrudgingly agreed that it was acceptable. Whilst I was taking the pictures I noticed the wounds on my hand had gotten worse. Now each hole was rimmed with a thick, white crust that was hard to the touch. I didn’t want to scare Emily so I applied some more ointment and wrapped them in bandages. I looked at my watch. It was eleven am. Emily was due at three. That gave me time to put the finishing touches to the place and still have some time to relax. As I fussed around I could hear a repetitive tapping noise like claws on tile. I Immediately checked the kitchen and bathroom. The last thing I needed was rats. Not with Emily here. Thankfully I couldn’t find anything.
As the afternoon progressed it happened again and again. Every time I jumped up to check, there was nothing to be seen. I thought I was going insane! Still, it wasn’t enough to dampen my excitement. It wasn’t long before I heard the buzzer go off, signalling Emily’s arrival. I rushed down the stairs to the front door and there she was. My heart swelled at the sight of her. Even the sight of her mother glowering just behind her wasn’t enough to stop the sense of elation I felt. My daughter was finally here. My mind raced with all the fun activities I had planned for us as I bent down to take her up in a huge hug. As I picked her up I heard another tapping sound. This time louder and more intense than it had ever been before. I held her tight to my chest. Suddenly she started to wail. I felt a wetness on my arms and saw the look of fear on my ex-wife’s face. I tried to let her go but something was preventing me from moving my arms. Her screams increased in pitch as I heard the tapping noise increase till it was almost a buzz. My ex-wife grabbed my wrists and tried to prise Emily out of my grasp, only to cry out herself and pull her hands back. I saw that, where there were once fingers, there were now only bloody stumps. Emily finally managed to wiggle free and as she fell to the ground I saw her back was a tangled mess of meat. Bits of bone were visible in the bloody mess. I stared at my hands. The bandages had come off. The wounds underneath were no longer wounds, they were mouths. Each with its own set of razor sharp teeth, chattering away with lethal intent. I began to scream and as I did, a hundred mouths screamed with me.
