Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-29454058-20160805085241

''Ok, so I've been listening to and reading CreepyPastas for a little over 2 years now and 2 things have crossed my mind, firstly that I want to read CreepyPastas, and second, I want to write CreeyPastas. I've never got round to actually doing the reading side of things since I don't like the sound of my own voice, who does really? But yesterday, I sat down for the whole day jotting ideas, notes and finally my first story, and here it is.. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated, and I'd love to know what you guys think of the idea behind my story.''

I Was Not A Bad Kid by ThatLadDavie 

I remember it so clearly, the memories I had suppressed for so long, how come my parents never spoke about this with me? How did I forget something so, horrifying? To tell you the truth, it's not something I want etched in my mind, and I'm not quite sure why it is but there's nothing I can do about that now, not when I can see it so clearly, the sights, the sounds, the smells, ugh the putrid smells!

The year was 1985, I was only 11 at the time, I lived with my parents in Lebanon and I remember one night I was sleeping over at my best friend's house, Anthony was his name, how did I forget about Anthony? Anyway, that night it was around 8:00pm and we were just finishing up eating around the dining room table when Anthony asked his father if he could go watch TV, "Bad kids don't eat all their greens" he father replied, "But dad.." Anthony started saying when his father interrupted Bad kids, don't, eat, all their greens" with which Anthony finished all his vegetables and stood up, "Ahem" his father cleared his throat "Bad kids don't have manners" he said sternly, "May we be excused father?", his father nodded, we both left the table just in time to catch the end of some TV show Anthony was obsessed with, I don't recall the name of it, all I can remember is it had something to do with puppets, which doesn't narrow it down much, after the show had finished Anthony said we should get ready for bed, he only had one bed so we would have to top and tail, we got ready for bed, quickly ran upstairs and settled down ready to go to sleep, and then things got, weird.. Anthony had a clock next to his bed and he seemed to be counting down the minutes, watching this clock intently, "What are you doing?" I asked, but he just ignored me, "Anthony!" he turned his head slightly, seemingly keeping one eye on the clock, "5.. 4.. 3.. 2.. 1.. 9pm, time for sleep" he muttered before turning over and closing his eyes. I lay there in silence for a minute or so, confused by what Anthony was just doing, then I sat up, looking at him through the darkness, "Anthony.." I whispered, "Why was you staring at the clock like that?", no reply, "Why won't you talk to me? I'm going to ask your mother to take me home", "NO!" he shouted under his breath, "Just go to sleep, we're already late" I was understandably confused by this and he peaked my curiosity, "Late? What do you mean, we're late? Late for what?" I asked, Anthony sat up, looked me dead in the eye and said "Bad kids stay up late" then laid back down and went to sleep. I didn't know what to make of this, I wasn't a bad kid, I never hurt anyone, I sure as hell never disrespected my elders, I was a good kid. I must have been laying in the darkness for way over an hour thinking about what Anthony had just said, the way he acted as if out of pure fear, "What was his problem?" I though to myself, and then I found out..

I awoke to the sound of crying children, I was laying on a hard, wooden surface, on what seemed like a bed somebody had made out of an old table, I looked around wondering where I was, trapped in a small, blood-stained room, surrounded by small bones scattered around the floor, there was small cage hanging from the ceiling with a old microphone inside it and a clock on the wall next to some writing, scratched into the wall it said "Bad kids stay up late". It was 3:45, and I could do nothing but sit on the floor wondering what was going on, terrified for my life, I was in my own trapped in that room for hours before I heard shuffling around outside, 7 O'clock, I looked through the keyhole and what I saw made no sense, there was a man, wearing, a bear costume? Was this some kind of sick joke? "Anthony!" I screamed, "Do you have something to do with this?!" ... Typical, no reply. I could see the man in the bear costume moving around pushing some kind of cart carrying plates and glasses, the next thing I know he puts his eye up to the key hole and I fall back, terrified, a smell not too dissimilar to acetone began to fill the air and then, it went dark. I awoke some time later to a plate of stale bread and a glass of water by the door, I just sat and stared at it for a few minutes before there was a bang at the door and a man's voice said "Bad kids don't eat their food" but I wasn't going to touch anything that psychopath gave me, what if it was poisoned? "I.. I'm not a bad kid.. But I'm not eating that" I said, the door began to unlock, the sound of bolt after bolt clicking as the the man in the bear costume unlocked them one by one, the door swung open and he flew at me, picking me up by my throat and slamming me into the wall, "Bad kids don't eat their food!" he screamed in a muffled voice through the bear costume, he then threw me onto the bed, picked up a slice of bread and began ripping off small pieces and stuffing them into my mouth, after both slices of bread were gone he handed me the glass of water, "Bad kids don't drink their water", I didn't want him to pour the water down my throat too, I was already in too much pain and didn't want to choke as he poured the water down the back of my throat, so I took it from him and drank it all in one big gulp before handing him back the glass, "Bad kids don't use their manners" he said, staring down at me, "Thank you" I replied as if begging for my life, and then he left, locking the door behind him. I was alone again, staring at the bones on the floor, "I need to get out of here" I thought to myself, looking for a way out, but there was nothing, 4 walls and a door, how was I supposed to get out of here? Shortly, I heard that voice again booming from beyond the door "Bad kids don't stay up late" I looked at the writing on the wall, and then at the clock, it was.. 9 O'clock.. I didn't want to find out what happened to the bad kids who don't sleep, so I got onto the bed and closed my eyes.

This went on for days, weeks even, I was alone all day surrounded by the sound of children crying and screaming for their parents all day long, I didn't have a toilet so I would have to, do my business, in a corner, which eventually built up a putrid sewage-like smell mixing with the smell of blood and death that was already lingering in the air, 7 O'clock would come back around and I would hear shuffling around outside the door, followed by the familiar smell, and then, darkness, I would awaken to a plate of bread and a glass of water which, unless I wanted to be force-fed piece by piece, I would quietly sit down and eat before the smell poured back in and I'd be smothered in darkness once again. Waking up shortly later I'd find myself pacing the room staring at that clock.. 7:30, 8 O'clock, 8:30.. Almost 9 O'clock, 5.. 4.. 3.. 2.. 1.. "Bad kids don't stay up late" I thought to myself climbing onto my cold, hard bed, this was the first time in who knows how long that the man's voice didn't call out, reminding us we had to go to sleep and then suddenly I heard a blood-curdling scream coming from the other side of the building "Bad kids don't stay up late, bad kids don't stay up late" I thought to myself, closing my eyes as tight as I could. The screaming continued for 4 solid minute before another kid started to scream too, and now the smell of smoke was pouring into my room, I jumped up and looked through the keyhole, there were piles of burning wooden furniture stacked up against the back wall of the building and into the open doors where I assume the other children were, I never wanted to get out of this room as much as I did right now, but maybe I was safer in here? I heard shuffling around outside and instantly ran for the bed, hiding under it, and there it was, my way out.

How had I not noticed this before, I mean the bed was pretty low but I never ever thought to look, here it was the whole time, a vent! I didn't know where it led but I didn't care, All I knew is I had to get out, I began pulling and scratching at the vent but nothing worked, I decided to crawl out from under the bed grabbing the largest of all the small bones scattered about the room to try and jam them behind the vent to break it off, after 4 or 5 attempts and 3 of the bones breaking into small fragments, the vent came loose and I wasted no time climbing in. I have no idea how long I was in the, my face pressed up against the cold, solid base of the vent, the sound of children's scream crying out for help, I must have blacked out because the next thing I remember was the unsettling silence that filled the air, and the smell of smoke and burning flesh, I looked out from the vent and my door was still closed, I somehow manage to avoid the flames on the other side of the door. I climbed out from the vent, walked up to the door and peered through the keyhole, the whole place was still, the fire had long since gone out and there was no sign of life anywhere, this was my chance to escape, finally, freedom was within reach. I crawled back into the vent and started exploring, frantically searching for a way out, but around every corner was a dead end.

I must have been stuck in that God forsaken place for days, no food, no water, nothing, just the sound of silence and the rotten stench of excrement and smoke still lingering in the air, the loneliness was driving me insane, and then, there it was, that unmistakable sound of shuffling outside my door, I dived into the vent holding it closed behind me, on the other side of the vent was the sound of somebody forcefully breaking the locks, was it him? Did he see I wasn't in the room? The door slowly opened and a person walked in, I could only see his legs through the gap in the vent but he wasn't wearing a bear costume, I wasn't taking any chances, I stayed right where I was and after a minute or so, the person left, and the door was left open.. I waited a couple of minutes just to be sure they weren't coming back, then I crawled out of the vent, left the room and made a dash for the exit.

I ran through the metal rusty door and into the street, luckily I wasn't too far from my home, I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, down all the back streets, round every corner and up my garden path, slamming my fist repeatedly against my front door. Both of my parents came running out and tears started to fill their eyes, we went inside, I told them about the whole ordeal and they rang the police. The police took a statement and description of the man in the bear costume and a manhunt for the murderous psychopath soon followed, we skipped town and moved to a quiet little place in Canada and the last I heard, the man in the bear costume had never been caught.

After escaping to Canada I must have blocked everything out of my mind until today, I went to high school, met a wonderful girl named Julia, we both graduated, got married and had our own little baby, Connor.

Fast forward to today, August 14th 1999, for days Conner, now only 6 years old, has been telling me about this TV show he's been watching, he said that if you write to the address shown on the TV he could go and play games with the host, I told him for days up to this point that it was out of the question, but eventually gave in and said to him "Ok, the next time the show is on call me and I'll come and have a look" I wanted to at least see this show, if I was going to send my only son along, I at least wanted to know what I was signing him up up for, sure enough, today he called me and everything came flooding back, "Dad, dad, this is the show, can I go?" what I was faced with shook me to my very core, on the screen was a guy in a bear costume, Mr. Bear, sitting in a chair talking to the audience, “Hello kids! Do you want to visit my cellar? If you do, please write me a letter at this address!”  