01 Oct The Promise Land

Posted at 11:00h in Strange and Unexplained by CreepypastaStories.com 0 Comments

📅 Published on October 1, 2024

“The Promise Land”

Written by Corpse Child
Edited by Craig Groshek
Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek
Narrated by N/A

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🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available

⏰ ESTIMATED READING TIME — 13 minutes

Rating: 10.00/10. From 3 votes.

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He woke up, wiping the sleep from his little eyes. He squinted, straining his vision back into clarity. Morning? he wondered.

He shuffled from the bundle of raggedy cushions he’d been sleeping on. He peeked through the blinds at the world outside. In doing so, he found that he was right. It was morning. The sun wasn’t out; he’d never seen the sun before, only knowing it as “the big yellow, smiling sky-ball” that he saw in his storybooks.

The world outside was dark and desolate. It was devoid of any color or vibrance, two things it hadn’t possessed for close to a millennia now. It was quiet out there. Despite it being the once all too lively city of New York, “The Big Apple,” Everything, everywhere, held a nearly suffocating cadence of dead silence.

Yet, to him, it was simply morning, Characterized by the parting of the clouds that were the hue of ash, allowing for only the slightest visibility. He quickly fixed the blinds back before hiding under his blanket again. He knew he couldn’t look out there for long. If he did, They would see him. That’s what mommy and daddy told him anyway.

“They seek the ones that peek.” They used to say. Of course, what that meant exactly was still a bit of a mystery to him. What were they? What would happen if they saw him? Both were questions that, while he occasionally thought about, he never had the courage to seek answers to.

All he knew was that the outside was dangerous; the inside was safe. That was all he needed to know. Well, for the most part. Like any boy his age, he always wondered what it could’ve been like out there outside the walls of the continuously degrading apartment complex. He would imagine himself in the bright, lively environments pictured in the old coloring books he used to draw in.

He would imagine himself running through fields of grass that stretched all across the horizon. Other times, he’d climb and frolic about on a park playground. Of course, these were, again, only fantasies to him. As fictional as the great land of Oz, he used to hear mommy read to him about it at nighttime. He knew nothing about them, just like he didn’t know what it was that would get him if they saw him.

He just knew that they were out there, while he had to stay in here, Just like mommy always warned him to. Mommy was always right. Mommy knew everything. Mommy told him about how the outside used to be beautiful. How the “big, yellow smiling ball” was real (though it wouldn’t really smile), and how that was how you’d tell when it was daytime, rather than the parting of the ash clouds that only gave a faint, faded semblance of illumination to an otherwise completely dark world outside.

She told him about how there used to be other people who’d be outside, too. She even said little boys and girls like him used to get together and play and have fun for long hours until the sun would go down. There was none of that now. To the best of his knowledge, he was the only person around, little or otherwise.

It’d been this way for as long as he could remember. This life, the quiet, colorless outside world he viewed from the window, was the same as the one he was first brought into. It would likely be the same when he became a grownup, like mommy and daddy.

He wondered, too, what that’d be like being a grownup. He remembered asking mommy or daddy how to be a grownup. They’d tell him that being a grownup meant learning how to take care of yourself and your own. While he didn’t really know what that meant when they told him this, he would still learn in his way when, about a week ago, Mommy and Daddy left the apartment, like they usually did, to scrounge the deserted alleys or other apartments long abandoned for whatever canned food, usually canned chicken, spam, or beans (the latter of which, he never could stand the taste of), as well as water and whatever medicines or first aid supplies they could find.

He waited all day and all night for them, eventually crying himself to sleep, hungry, cold, afraid, and alone. Up to the present, he’s waited for them to return, only to still be alone come nightfall, when the clouds closed again, and the world outside would be engulfed in complete darkness. It was only a day or two prior that he finally told himself that he couldn’t be sad anymore, that crying wouldn’t save him now. He had to be a big boy, and big boys had to learn how to be okay without mommies and daddies around all the time.

He went into the kitchen. He was hungry. He would’ve liked to have some of the peanut butter cheese crackers mommy would occasionally find just for him. He thought maybe there’d even be a Twinkie — he loved those. But no, there was neither. All that was left of the gathered canned foods that was kept in the kitchen in front of the stove that hadn’t worked in close to a decade and a half to two decades were the canned beans.

He stuck his tongue out, imagining how disgusting they tasted. Yet, his tummy was also rumbling fiercely. He had to eat something,

even if it meant it had to be the canned baked beans. With this, he opened one of the three cans left and used a fork to dig right in,

The beans were every bit as unpleasant as he expected. They were cold, mushy, and just generally didn’t taste good. He’d have spat them back out immediately if he hadn’t been so hungry. All he could think about was trying to fill his belly the best he could. So instead, he closed his eyes and tried to imagine that, instead of those nasty canned beans, they were Twinkies, mashed up pasty Twinkies.

Of course, it didn’t really make it much better for him. They still tasted nasty. But at the very least, it made the act of choking them down slightly more bearable. Once he’d eaten, he went into the living room, where he turned on Daddy’s old radio. He always loved sitting in the living room and listening with Daddy to those old radio shows.

Sometimes, they’d tell stories of adventures, like pirates sailing the seven seas, or action ones, like cowboys chasing a train full of bandits (The “Lone Ranger” being one of his all-time favorites). Other times, the people on the radio would tell jokes that made daddy laugh hard. He laughed, too, even if he didn’t actually know what they were actually talking about (he just thought it was funny whenever they heard them use a bad word — couldn’t repeat it, though).

He flipped around for a while, finding most of the stations to be dead air. “Come on, stupid radio!” He said, beating the top of it with his fist. It was the same tactic Daddy always used when he had trouble getting it to work (“Just gotta make it get some act right, eh, little buddy?”). Suddenly, through the fuzz, a man’s voice came through, faintly but still there.

“…So come on down, folks! Bring the kids! I say, bring the kids! ‘The Promised Land’! We got fast rides slow rides. We got clowns, we got games, candy, prizes, and so much more, ladies and gents! So I say again, come on down to ‘The Promise Land,’ where we promise nothin’ but a good time!”

He smiled. He always got excited hearing that commercial (the man’s funny voice made him giggle). He always tried to imagine what “The Promised Land” would look like. What it would be like. The rides, the games, the prizes, the clowns…

He remembered how he’d sometimes hear mommy talk about that stuff. But he’d never seen any of that for himself. Mommy told him about how the games were always super weird, but if you won, you’d get a BIG stuffed animal, just like Patches, the little blue bunny he slept with each night, but even bigger.

She said the clowns were funny men (like the ones that said the bad words on the radio) who dressed up weirdly and did a whole bunch of silly things. Of course, what excited him most, more than the games or the clowns, would be the candy. Mommy told him there was all sorts of it (Twinkies, too!). She told him there was even a weird type of candy that felt like eating a pillow that had pretty colors.

That always sounded funny to him (“eating a pillow? Who’d wanna do THAT?”). All the same, it sent his little head spinning. He’d asked a few times before if he could go. He always wanted to go. Mommy always told him that she and Daddy would “think about it” (“They’re ALWAYS just “thinking about it”…).

He grabbed his bunny and sat on the floor while the radio aired an episode of “The Black Pirate Ship.” Instead of listening to the radio, soaking every bit of the adventure like he usually would, he couldn’t stop thinking about it; “The Promise Land.”

All the candy, all the rides, all the fun. All of it; He wanted it. He looked around the living room, sighing. I don’t wanna be in here anymore. He peered through the blinds again into the dim, desolate outside. Why can’t I go out there, just once…

He thought about how mommy and daddy always told him it wasn’t safe outside. They said there were monsters out there, big and scary, and they liked to eat people (‘especially little boys). He couldn’t see any monsters out there, though. Of course, he knew mommy and daddy were always right, no matter what (mommies and daddies know everything), but still, he wondered.

He wondered what would happen. Just once, he thought, if just once, he went outside and got to go to “The Promise Land.” Oh, the fun he’d have! He’d ride on every ride (mommy said some would spin him upside down and make crazy loops), eat candy till he got a tummy ache, play all the games, win all the prizes, and do it all! If only just once.

What if I just go? he thought. He looked around. Mommy and Daddy hadn’t come back yet. They wouldn’t know, would they? He knew it wasn’t right to disobey his parents, but he couldn’t help himself. Just once…

He could be back before they knew he was gone. He could have all the fun in the world, and mommy and daddy would be none the wiser. It was perfect! He could slip out now and be back by nighttime.

“Come on, Patches,” he said, grabbing the blue bunny, “We’re gonna go have an adventure!” He opened the door that led into the hallway of the apartment complex. Like everything else outside, it was dark and quiet. He poked his little head and looked around, scanning the hallway. No monsters here…

He took a slow step out, then another. He stood in the hall for a moment. He thought it was spooky, standing alone in the empty, quiet hallway. He took a deep breath in and held it, closing his eyes. He was a big boy now. Big boys were brave. Big boys weren’t scared of the dark or monsters.

His grip tightened on Patches’ arm. You can do this. You’re a big boy! He opened his eyes and went to the stairway at the other end. There, at the balcony overlooking the empty street below, he stood. He’d done it. He was finally outside! Now he’d get to go have fun in “The Promise Land”! He put on his most excited smile and bounded down the steps.

Once down the steps, he sprinted down the dark, empty street. He ran until, finally, he started feeling cramps in his rib cage and stopped. Out of breath, he turned and looked back where he came from. He couldn’t see the apartment complex anymore. All that was there were the disheveled remains of different stores, most of which had long since crumbled and fallen apart to a point beyond recognition.

Ahead of him was much of the same, with even a few empty cabs peppered in different spots. He recognized these because it was the same as the little yellow toy car Daddy found him for his birthday one year. Daddy told him that people used them to drive around so they didn’t have to walk (or run) everywhere. He said they were fast, too (like, really fast).

He peered in through the driver’s side window. Seeing the inside up close like this, he thought it looked so cool. He imagined he was driving the deserted cab. When he tried to pull the handle to open it, though, it wouldn’t budge. Locked, tight as a drum. Oh well. he thought before continuing on down the street.

As he walked, he thought about the radio ad. He kept it on repeat in his mind, memorizing it repeatedly, hearing the funny man say, “Come on down, ladies and gents, to ‘The Promise Land’! That’s right, you heard us right, ‘The Promise Land’ is back and we’re bigger and better than ever! That’s right, come on down, same place, same time, folks; right down here on the corner o’ 4th an’ Edberg!”

He kept repeating that in his head, 4th and Edberg, 4th and Edberg, 4th and Edberg…

He started looking around, eyeing the street signs above him. He saw a bunch of different ones, but no “4th and Edberg.” Still, he kept walking, chin raised up. The longer he walked, the more destitute his surroundings became.

“Big boy” or no, he couldn’t lie. It was spooky. More than this, it was still so quiet. Too quiet. No sounds could be heard — not even the breeze, no movement, no lights, nothing. He was alone. A little fish in a giant ocean, seeing it for the first time. He closed his eyes, took another deep breath, and held up Patches. Smiling, he said, “It’s okay, buddy, we can’t be far. We’ll get to “The Promise Land” and have so much fun-“

He stopped when he heard a rustling noise coming from one of the alleys to his left. He jerked his head in the sound’s direction. Immediately, his legs started shaking. His heart thumped hard against his chest. “H-Hello…”

For a moment, there was nothing. Silence again. He stared at the alley. He couldn’t see anything there, yet he heard it. “Who’s there?” No answer. Suddenly, the rustling started again, joined by the sounds of something being knocked over. He was about to turn and take off running again when, from the darkness, a small orange kitten crept out.

He stood, his heartbeat still trying to steady itself out. The kitten trotted toward him, mewing softly. He finally relaxed when it was about three feet from him. He liked kitties, even if this was the first real one he’d ever seen; the others being from his storybooks, like with the smiling sun. He waved to it.

“Hey there, what’s your name?” The kitten meowed in reply. He giggled and said, “That’s a funny name. I’m—”

He was cut off again when sounds of growling sounded from the alley. Instantly, his body seized again in panic. Before he could do or say anything, though, another figure bounded from the alley, pouncing and snatching the kitten before tearing it into it with its teeth. His blood froze along with his body as he watched the creature rip apart the fluffy little kitty and devour it.

The creature looked over to him. Its eyes were wide open, having no lids, yellow and bloodshot. It was thin and bony, its ribs pushing against brownish-gray skin that was horribly covered in scratches, gashes, and even missing entire patches in places, exposing its insides. It tore another huge bit of meat from the severed leg of the kitten before scrambling on all fours towards him.

Instinct overrode fright, and he took off running down the highway. He ran quicker and harder than he ever had before. He didn’t dare look back. He didn’t need to. He could hear the thing’s strangled growling behind him, gaining on him. His legs ached, but he didn’t care. He had to keep running.

Eventually, he came upon a dead end at a two-way intersection. He threw his head in both directions. Going left would’ve led him towards another intersection, while the road to his right led towards a long deserted construction zone. He didn’t know which one to pick and which he’d be safer in, but he had to choose — and quickly!

Despite the numerous lacerations and lack of muscle tissues, the creature kept up with him seemingly effortlessly. He could hear it, closer and closer, right on his heels. He felt the creature’s icy, stinky breath prick the back of his neck. He kept running, his eyes trained forward until cutting a hard right turn into the construction zone.

His vision started clouding. His heart raced, jackhammering so hard now that, at any moment, it could very well have punched straight through his little chest. His legs burned now, threatening to give from beneath him. Still, he kept running. He had to keep running. Just a little bit further…

He made it through the entrance and made his way towards the skeletal frame of what would’ve been a skyscraper (something else he remembered reading about in his storybooks) had it ever been finished. He got to it and peeked behind him. The creature was still coming in hot behind him, baring pointed and distending its weathered, disgusting jaw.

His eyes went wide with panic, and he began frantically climbing the frame. He struggled, being so small, to reach each beam going up. The creature, from below, began scaling the frame after him, having a much easier time working its way up.

He began hopping from one to the next, grabbing and holding onto the beams while climbing onto them. He climbed higher and higher. The creature gained on him with each leap from one beam up to the next. He didn’t know how high he’d climbed. He didn’t even know how high he could keep climbing. It didn’t matter. He knew he had to keep going, or he’d be eaten like the kitty.

He’d made it to the second beam from the top of the building frame when he felt it shift beneath his feet. This caused him to finally make the mistake of looking down. Seeing now just how far from the ground, almost 300 feet, he froze, trembling. To him, he felt himself peering down into a dark pit, with piles of fallen, discarded steel beams waiting for him to flatten himself against.

Beneath him, only about three or four beams down, the creature continued creeping upward for him. He didn’t know what to do now. He knew the creature would surely have him if he didn’t move. But if he did, he could fall and get pancaked at the bottom, shattering every single bone in his little body. He was stuck.

The creature got closer. Closer. Up one beam, then the next. The frame started to wobble. Its screws, through decades of weathering and rust, finally give out from the constant pressure. He clutched Patches to his chest as the creature finally latched onto the beam he was on. The beam began to shift again.

He turned and tried to jump up to the beam above him when the one he was on finally gave out. One pop of the rusted screws sent he and the creature plummeting straight down to the bottom. They both smacked against the ground with a resounding thud.

For a moment, everything was blurry. Shapes and colors were all just a weird mish-mash, and everything sounded like he’d had balls of cotton stuffed into his ears. He felt dizzy. Everything spun around him. Eventually, things finally went dark.

***

He felt himself all alone again, in the dark. He felt cold. He didn’t know where he was anymore. He didn’t know what anything was anymore. He just knew he was scared again, all alone in the dark. He thought of Patches. He was there, sure. But he’d fallen, too. Patches is probably hurt, too, he thought.

He thought then of the apartment, of home. He thought of mommy and daddy. He thought of all the pictures he’d seen in his storybooks. Bright, colorful places with the big yellow ball in the baby blue sky, smiling at him each morning. He thought of the radio man’s funny voice, enthusiastically reciting, “…So I say again, come on down to ‘The Promise Land’ where we promise nothin’ but a good time!”

He saw himself there, surrounded by all the big rides that’d spin him upside down. In his hand was Patches, looking good as new. Along with the rides, he’d be flocked around by the clowns who’d tell him funny jokes and make him laugh his little head off. He’d play fun games while stuffing himself with all the Twinkies he could ever want. And the best part, right there with him, smiling, would be mommy and daddy, showering him with all the love they hadn’t been able to for a whole week now.

He felt it. He was happy. He’d made it. He was now in “The Promised Land”. And the best part, he’d never, ever have to leave.