One of the amazing things about creepypasta tales is that they tend to spawn offshoots and hybrids as they travel, like creeping mutant vines, working their way through the nooks and crannies of the web. One example of this is a strange post by user Havoc98 on the Creepypasta Wiki, which he titles “A Month of Rain.”
After reading a thread on another forum in which users shared their own personal brushes with the paranormal, Havoc was inspired to document a traumatic event he experienced when he was only seven years old.
The unnamed town in which his family lived was, as he recalls, idyllic and peaceful… until one fateful spring when the region was besieged by nonstop thunderstorms, which bombarded the town with nearly constant rainfall for nearly four weeks.
He recalls that the town initially handled the situation calmly, and took whatever safety measures were available to protect themselves in the first couple of weeks, and even the schools remained open for some time.
But that wasn’t the most troubling thing this author remembers during that period… it was the ferocious lightning and thunder that seemed to grow in intensity with each passing day. There were other, stranger sounds too… quieter, but just as frightening as the explosive claps of thunder. The sound of strange voices, whispering unintelligible things beneath the endless pattering of raindrops.
The author wasn’t the only one who heard the whispers — his best friends Finny and Bryce heard them too. In fact, one night during a sleepover, they were all drawn to the windows to try and find the source of the voices. The next day at school, many other kids recounted similar experiences… and some said they could understand the strange whispers. They said they were inviting them to “come outside and play in the rain… come out and play with us.”
Each night after that, the voices continued to whisper their ominous invitations… and it wasn’t long before the town’s children began to disappear.
Fear and paranoia swept through the town, adding to their already-mounting fears of rising waters. With each new morning, news of another missing child dominated the local newscasts, and a town call was called to address the crisis. The author remembers his parents attending the meeting, but they still tried to shield him from their hushed conversations about the terrifying wave of disappearances.
But they couldn’t hide the fact that several of his classmates hadn’t shown up for school that week.
Eventually the banks of nearby rivers and creeks burst, sending devastating flood waters through every neighborhood; the catastrophic flooding resulted in the declaration of the entire county as a disaster area, whereupon National Guard and FEMA units were mobilized to evacuate the residents to safer ground.
The author’s father volunteered to help in the rescue operation… or at least that’s what the author thought at first. Then he overhead his mother say something about “finding the place where they’re keeping the children,” and realized there was a small posse of townspeople who were defying evacuation orders by going back into the flooded area to find the person (or persons) who kidnapped their children.
Despite his concerns about his father, the author joined his mother and several other residents, including his friend Finny, on their exodus out of town, while the rains continued to pound the area mercilessly, turning the roads to rivers of rising mud.
It was one of these muddy streams which suddenly pulled at him, dragging both him and Finny downward, deeper than he thought possible — after all, the water on the road was only about six inches deep at the moment — and he briefly saw the world turn black as he dropped below the surface of the swirling mud.
In the darkness, he remembers hearing the voices clearly, inviting him to join them… and felt what might have been a small, cold and bony hand seize his ankle. Through his terror, he realized he couldn’t resist its pull. Whatever it was, it was going to take him away, and he was going to die.
Only the heroic efforts of his mother saved his life — he felt her grab him by the back of his shirt with both hands and yank him violently back to the surface. The tug of the mysterious “hand” broke free, leaving a strange bruise behind. His friend Finny, however, wasn’t as lucky — he had disappeared beneath the muddy flood, and his family never found him.
He also never saw his father again. He’d vanished along with the rest of the posse that had ventured back into the town to rescue the missing children, and never came back.
When the waters finally receded, no bodies, adult or child, were ever uncovered — even after months of relentless digging and tunneling through mountains of mud and debris. To this day, Havoc98 has no idea what happened to them.
But he’s certain of one thing: There was something in the water…