Creepypastas

The 8th Man

I was so excited. I hadn't ever really gone camping before, so the fact that one of my friends asked me to go with him was amazing in and of itself. He made plans for five other guys to join us as well. The plan was to leave right after classes on Friday evening and drive up to an old abandoned farmhouse, which, in Kansas, aren't too uncommon. This one was special, though, or so I was told by Riley, my friend that had invited me. He said not only was the house quite large and well held together after many years of vacancy, but very few people knew about it, so we were almost certain to be unbothered for the weekend. We would stay all day Saturday and come back Sunday morning.

At about 6:00 PM the last guy, Seth I think, finally arrived at the cars. We had a white Suburban from Riley and a small Honda van. Four people rode in the van, while three rode in the Suburban, but the Suburban was also full of all our junk we planned to bring. We left by around 6:30 and drove for nearly an hour before stopping at some burger place to eat a quick supper and shift drivers. After another two hours drive, we arrived at the farmhouse. The farm area was large, empty, and the fence that used to surround it was in shambles. The house, however looked very nice, almost kept.

After unpacking most of our things and laying out blankets on the bed frames still in the house, someone suggested we turn in early so we could go fishing in the morning. Not being a late night person, I was fine with the idea, and after some work, I got everyone else to agree with me. There were only three beds in each of the two rooms, so me, Riley and some other guy I'd never met shared one room, and three other guys shared the other. A guy named Roy decided to take the torn-up couch downstairs.

I had a bit of trouble falling asleep, a bit uneasy about the whole drafty, creepy abandon house thing, but I eventually dozed off, unable to stay awake any longer.

I woke up at the sound of Riley moving all his crap around. When I was able to open my eyes enough to see my phone screen with the time on it, it was just after 6:30, so I had to hurry if I wanted to catch anything. I rolled out of my bed, grabbed some jeans and a jacket, changed as quickly as I could despite my exhaustion, and grabbed one of three remaining fishing rods. When I got to the pond, Roy, Riley, and two other guys were there. I cast my line in and sat silently waking up with the rest of them. Over the next hour or so, the other two people made their way to the pond and everyone had woken up a bit more and were chatting about their restless nights.

"So, which one of you idiots decided to come downstairs last night?" Roy shouted over the other voices.

I was expecting for someone to laugh and give some excuse but nobody even flinched.

"You're not in any trouble, but it was too dark for me to see your face, whoever it was, so for my curiosity, who the hell was it?"

Minutes went by with Roy just staring at our faces for any sign of conceal.

I decided to speak up and try to figure out who it was.

"What did they come down for? Did they sleep down there?"

"I don't know, they didn't say anything and I was so tired I dozed back off."

"Well, what did they do?" I asked.

"I told you, I was tired all I know is that I saw someone come downstairs, look at me, then I fell back asleep!"

In fear of getting hit I held back further questions.

On the positive note of that, Roy packed up, and everyone else followed. The fishing was good, and we had plenty to eat for today and tonight. We walked back to the field in front of the farmhouse, let off our jackets and ran out again. Roy had dug up an old Frisbee, so we divided into two teams quite sloppily, so that we were an uneven 4 against 3.