creepypasta origins

The Oddkids

WARNINGS: GORE

One summer, when I was a boy, my parents sent me to stay with my grandparents for the break. Raised in the pacific northwest, a small town in eastern Mississippi might as well have been an entirely different country for all I was concerned.

The instant we got out of the airport I was struck with the oppressive humidity, and I became convinced right then and there that my parents downright despised me.

Of course, the reality was much kinder than that. My grandparents were good folks, and thankfully I met a girl within a few days of arrival, and we became fast friends. Her name was Jessie. A local girl with long blonde hair and green eyes – the first pair I'd ever encountered. I was in love at first sight. Jessie was a year or two older than me, but that didn't matter much to us.

Jessie was the reason I got up every morning – not in a romantic sense, of course, but a very literal one. Sure, my grandparents were very hospitable, but they were old and southern, about as far removed from my narrow worldview as could be. They just had no idea how to entertain me, and I think Jessie was as much a relief to them as she was to me, taking me off their hands during the days and curtailing somewhat my boundless youthful energy.

The place where my grandparents lived was about a mile out from a place called Ashbury Wood, and it was a mile I walked daily. I would always meet Jessie on the path, heading my way. On rare occasions she would already be at my grandparents' house when I was leaving, and I never saw where she lived. It didn't matter much to me, though, because the woods were our real home.

Ashbury Wood wasn't particularly dense, but boy did it seem to go on forever. Jessie showed me a few paths around the woods, unofficial trails to interesting sites like clearings, hollowed-out trees, or even just a place where a funny-looking bush was growing. We told each other stories of our hometowns, imagining what life would be like if one of us lived where the other did. Whenever we fantasized about having her come live with me she would get a strange tone in her voice, but I never thought much of it.

While the woods were our home and playground, we still set limits for ourselves. If we went too long without seeing something Jessie recognized, we immediately turned around until we were in familiar territory again. She also set boundaries, significant features we shouldn't go past for one reason or another; decades later and the only one I can remember is the creek.

The creek itself was nothing to be concerned about. It was just a shallow stream of water that may have come up to my waist, with sloped banks on either side that were sheer but not insurmountable. The first time I discovered it, I immediately headed down into the water, just about ready to cross to the other side when Jessie cried out from behind me: "Stop!"

I whirled around on one foot as gracefully as a young boy can and looked up at her. She stood staring across the creek and out into the woods on the other side. Her hands were balled into fists and kept straight at her sides, and I remember being worried that she might begin crying. I climbed back up the side of the creek, coming up beside her.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"We need to turn around." Jessie's voice was barely above a whisper. She looked terrified, and slowly peeled her gaze away from the trees and onto me. "We have to turn back."

Reluctantly, I agreed, but only because I could see how upset the situation was making her. Like I said, the water itself wasn't that deep or rapid, and it wasn't even that far into the woods. On the walk back I raised these points, but Jessie stayed quiet, leading me to a small clearing in the trees that we used as a sort of home base for our adventures. Sitting me down, Jessie stared into the grass for a long moment before she spoke.