Creepypasta Corner

Marrow

I'm not much for ghost stories. I even used to be scared of the character setup in scary movies. I've grown out of it by now, and I've even come to enjoy some scares now and again. But, I don't actually hear many ghost stories, like the ones you tell at night around a campfire. Many of my friends are as easily scared as I once was, so I just don't get the opportunity. Even when I do hear one, I know it's just a bunch of made-up crap. It's often cheesy, boring, and barely even gives me the chills. Ghost stories aren't real, after all. Right? There is one story, however, that that I remember to this day, and I'm becoming more and more unsure of myself. I try to assure myself that it's just a story, but fear has a way of snuffing out rational thought. I'll explain as best as I can remember.

Back when I was in high school (a little over 4 years ago), a friend of mine (Kevin) decided to host a party, since his parents were out of town. It wasn't anything special. There were only about twelve or so guests in total, and there wasn't any drinking or anything like that. His parents had mounted cameras all around the house which they checked frequently, so he never could have gotten away with it if he tried. If there had been drinking, I probably wouldn't be here telling you this. A booze-induced story wouldn't worry me. As the party continued past about 11PM, someone thought it would be fun to tell ghost stories. Being one of the few chances I got, and since I had recently gained an interest in the paranormal, I eagerly joined. Everyone sat in a circle, and since it was Kevin's party, he chose the storytellers.

After two ghost stories, he chose Randy. I didn't know Randy. I don't think he even went to the same school as the rest of us. He and I just had Kevin as a mutual friend. At first, Randy refused. I remember him having an odd expression on his face as he declined. I wasn't sure what it was at the time, but looking back, it looked like a feeling of emptiness. It took a bit of convincing, courtesy of the other guests, but Randy finally agreed to tell us a story. Oddly enough, though, Randy made a request.

"If I tell this story, it can never leave this room," he said. (Sorry, Randy)

We were all taken aback by this request, but Randy insisted we never tell a soul. We eventually agreed. Much to our dismay, he then proceeded to tell his story of the night he watched his mother and older brother die right in front of him.

Randy used to live in the rural part of Minnesota, which if I recall, was somewhere in Clay county. He lived in one of those lone houses you see on the freeway near the woods, but they aren't on farms. Those houses are just, there, isolated from the rest of the world. In these places, there may be less than ten people for several miles, and the only other thing in sight is fields or trees. One summer night, when Randy was seven, he woke up at around three in the morning.

Apparently it was normal. He often woke up in the middle of the night due to the hot weather in the summer, since his family couldn't afford to install air conditioning. All he had to do was get a glass of water to cool down and he could fall asleep again. He went to the kitchen and got his water, leaving all the lights off so he wouldn't wake anyone up. He didn't mind, he wasn't afraid of the dark like his sister was, even though she was older than him. On his way back to his room, he happened to see something out of the corner of his eye. Whatever he saw, it was outside. He assumed it was just a wild animal, but he felt uneasy for some reason, so he decided to turn the porch light on to check.

It would just be a second. Hopefully the light wouldn't wake his siblings, whom he shared a room with at the front of the house. He turned on the light. Standing in his front yard, he saw a woman in her twenties, covered in blood. She was skinny, almost starving, but she had numerous large boil-like growths, each as big as a baseball, all over her body. Some of these growths were sources of the blood. Her limbs seemed broken in several places, and she was wearing only a tattered t-shirt and ripped jeans. Even though she could barely stand, she didn't move. She just stood there, facing the house. Randy was scared, but he knew she needed help. He woke up his older brother. His brother was a high school football player, so he was strong. But he wasn't just a jock. He got better grades than anyone on his team. Randy assumed he would know what to do. They looked outside at the broken woman, who just stood there, struggling to stay on her feet. Randy's little sister had also awoken, and was also looking at the woman outside.