I Am Halloween

I Am Halloween by Natron25

Halloween is supposed to be pretend. Costumes, candy, fake monsters. Kids laugh in rubber masks, parents stand on porches talking about work and weather, and everyone goes to bed thinking it was all harmless. That’s what the town believes. That’s what they need to believe.
But Halloween isn’t a game. Not here.
Something old lives under this neighborhood. Something that remembers when October 23rd was the only night the walls between the living and the other side went thin. It watched humans move in, pave over the field, build houses on its home, and decide—without asking—that the rules had changed. Now those same humans celebrate Halloween on October 31st, dressing their children as vampires and witches and zombies, laughing at things they don’t think are real.
And that’s the mistake.
Because on Halloween night, the thing beneath the house comes out. It walks under the streetlights. It talks to the kids. It touches them. It chooses.
It doesn’t need you to believe in monsters. It just needs you to be afraid.
This is a first-person account from the thing that calls itself Halloween. It’s patient. It’s intelligent. It’s been here longer than your family has been alive. And it is not done.

https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/I_Am_Halloween




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**While this is my voice, sometimes I use an AI cloned version of my voice because it helps with my dyslexia.

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
I Am Halloween by Natron twenty five. Halloween is my
saving grace, the one night a year I can go
outside without a mask. I don't want it to sound
like I spend all year waiting for this day, just
whiling away the hours with bated breath and anticipation. I

(00:21):
would like to say that I have other interests, that
I am able to find myself so engrossed in some
human activity that I actually forget about the only day
I can truly be myself. But this would be a lie.
It's an uncommon hour that I go without thinking about
the thirty first of October, that glorious night when I

(00:44):
can step out into the cool air and almost just
almost feel human. The last Halloween was perhaps my favorite.
My favorite day hasn't been the same since this area
became occupied, since the human beings, with their warm skin
and innocent minds, began constructing ramshackle dwellings within the imaginary

(01:08):
borders of what was once mine. When I say it
wasn't the same, I'm speaking quite literally. My favorite day
was a different day before the humans came back. Then,
what I referred to as simply my day took place
once every year on what the humans know as October
twenty third. It was a day of great power, when

(01:31):
the walls between the physical and the supernatural grew thin
and malleable evil was released into the world on the
twenty third of October. Although such designations as months were
many centuries from their creation, an insane, power hungry beast
managed to doom her entire species on that day and

(01:51):
October twenty third, many hundreds of years ago. I often
wonder what the world might have been like if she
hadn't committed that ultimate mistake. It's irrelevant, I always end
up telling myself, because I wouldn't exist. Unlike the naive
human beings who roam the streets in their speeding cars

(02:12):
and make screaming love to one another in their shoddy homes,
I have been blessed with a natural intuition, allowing me
constant awareness of how far in time we've drifted since
our last cycle began. It is this sense that allows
me to know the current year as six thousand, twenty
In human years, I believe that would be two thousand

(02:35):
and sixteen. Ono domini are the words. They use, words
from an ancient language, ancient by their standards at least
but I digress. It was the Halloween of six thousand
nineteen or two thousand fifteen that was my favorite. My

(02:57):
day had always been the twenty third of October. When
I was alone. Then I would slip out to the
surface and enjoy the rush of power as I was
joined by my fellow creatures of the night. I would
walk aimlessly and without direction, as the others whipped around me.
Some were burdened with deformed, hellish shapes, cursed to roam

(03:19):
in the shadows of the earth, safe from humanity's leering eyes.
Others were no more physical than the wind itself, and
only visible to my eyes through the power that coursed
through every living creature of the night on the twenty third.
Others were beyond form and beyond comprehension, no more than
forgotten memories, drifting from mind to soul, despairing in their

(03:43):
acceptance of eternal suffering. Some have believed that I may
end up like them one day. I have no intention
of proving them right. When the humans came and settled down,
they scared away my friends. Any human child would find
the notion ridiculous. An army of the supernatural, the nightmares

(04:06):
of the most disturbed frightened away by innocent human beings.
But it happened this way. The humans didn't come alone.
They brought their single most wicked power of all, denial.
Human children spend their time wondering what it would be
like to share the powers of their fellow creatures. Wings

(04:28):
like a bird, perhaps, or the sharp teeth of a dog.
They don't understand that they already possess the most powerful
gift of all. Through their denial, they are able to
stare us directly in the eyes and inform us that
we don't exist. My friends were terrified of the human's gift.
They believed that we, as agents of the supernatural, would

(04:51):
not be allowed to exist on this mortal plain without
the consent of human beings. Without their belief, we would
vanish become nothing. So they fled. They left my home
and went to find a new world, one where humans
were scarce or non existent, where they could expose themselves

(05:11):
once a year on October twenty third, reveling in their
annual powers without interference from those who may have destroyed them.
They thought I was a fool for staying, for claiming
this land as my own. I'm not a fool. I
know that the humans rule my world. Now, I know
that I've been reduced to a shadow, no to less

(05:34):
than a shadow. But I did not abandon my home.
For that I will not apologize. It was many years
ago that the first humans came to settle in my home.
They built their dwellings uncomfortably close to mine. I watched
them as they worked, hidden beneath the ground, marveling at
how their species had progressed since the last time I

(05:55):
saw them. My day came a month after the first
humans were settled in. I had spent some time worrying
over what might happen. I was not paranoid enough to
abandon my home, but I wasn't immune to my friend's
terror of humanity. When the time came, I waited. I

(06:16):
watched the human dwellings until all the windows went dark,
and when they did, I waited longer still. Finally I
left my home and began walking, my destination unknown but
far away from the house. I was meant to feel exhilaration,
the sheer ecstasy of being closer than ever to the

(06:37):
joining of two worlds. But what I felt was nothing.
There was nothing in the air and nothing moving beyond
the spectrum of the physical world. I felt the cold
night prickle against my skin, and the corpse's hand of
darkness caress the back of my neck. There was no
one riding through the air to greet me, no one

(07:00):
crawling up from beneath the ground to wish me a
happy my day. I returned to my home that night,
disheartened and full of regret. My day was over and
I had failed to squeeze any semblance of pleasure from
its dark hours. I felt as though I had failed,
as if something I had done had prevented me from

(07:21):
enjoying this once glorious day. Perhaps I had made a mistake.
Perhaps I should have followed my friends away from this
now tainted land to an untouched world where humans were
nothing but a harmless legend. With nothing but regret and
disappointment inside me, I slept, I was awoken by a

(07:46):
sound I knew, but was not used to hearing, children's laughter.
Eight days had come and gone. In my slumber, I
had vaguely wondered about the possibility of sleeping through the
entire year, giving myself a chance of reliving my day
as quickly as possible. But this idea was thwarted by

(08:07):
the children who played above my home. I watched them,
careful to remain invisible to their innocent eyes. What I
saw confused me. There were two of them, one male
and one female. I had seen them before, of course,
they lived in the human house with two adults I'd
presumed to be their parents. The girl and the boy

(08:30):
had played outside before, often very close to my home,
but never had I seen them dressed in such an
eccentric way. The little girl wore an all black dress
with sleeves that hung down past her small hands. A
black hat with a round brim rested upon her head.
Its top pointed like the beak of a crane. The

(08:52):
boy had on a fancy suit of shiny black material,
complete with a red waistcoat and a flowing cape. I
recognized his attire as similar to that of humans I
had known many centuries earlier, but why he would be
reliving the wardrobe of his dead ancestors was beyond my grasp.
Their clothes were unusual, yes, but it was their faces

(09:13):
that confused me the most. The girls had been painted
a bright green color, closer to emerald than grass. Dark
lines had been added, making her smooth skin appear wrinkled
and far older than it was. The boy's face had
been painted white, with two lines of red running down
his chin. When he opened his mouth to laugh, I

(09:36):
saw that two of his teeth seemed to have grown
larger and more pointed. I watched them for many minutes
as they played in my grass. Their behavior was odd,
unlike that of any humans I had known before, unlike themselves.
In fact, at one moment, the boy appeared to bite

(09:57):
into the girl's neck. Rather than scream, she let out
a giggle and ran away. When the shadows grew long,
the children were called inside. Still confused, I tried to
watch through their lit up windows, hoping for some semblance
of an explanation, but it wasn't to come, and when
the sun rose the next day, the children had returned

(10:20):
to normal. I continued to watch the human family over
the next year, and was alarmed when I saw more
houses being constructed. For quite some time, I considered abandoning
my home, as all my friends had done, but I
knew that wasn't the way. Instead, I watched the houses
grow like weeds. My grasp paved over as horseless carriages

(10:43):
replaced feet as the primary mode of transportation. The construction
of the neighborhood went on for several years. I watched
the humans intrigued, ignoring any threats to my own way
of life. Every October twenty third, I would leave my
home after nightfall and wander around what remained of my

(11:06):
grassy field. No one returned to me, None of my
friends came back to admit their mistake. I never again
felt the same electric rush that had once defined my day.
I was understandably devastated as I came to accept that
this thrill, this all encompassing euphoria, was now beyond my reach.

(11:30):
And Yet as the years passed, I found myself with
new interests, watching the humans, overhearing their conversations following their advancement.
As my once grassy home became a neighborhood, I found
great pleasure in watching the humans. But there was another
interest of mine, another ongoing question that kept me enraptured

(11:53):
for nearly all my waking moments. This was the mystery
of October thirty first. Somewhere in my life before this home,
I learned that humans celebrated the twenty third of October
just as we did. They held gatherings rejoicing in the
paranormal forces they didn't know existed. Sometimes I had heard

(12:15):
they would even dress up, disguising themselves in costumes meant
to terrify their friends. It seemed to me that the
human celebrations of my day had somehow shifted so that
they no longer took place on the powerful day itself.
But eight days later this was good. I believed for

(12:36):
the naive humans to be mocking the supernatural on such
an important day was not prudent. My day came and
went many times over until one year I didn't leave
my home. I was so intent on watching the humans
from within my abode that I actually failed to remember
the significance of the day. When I finally realized my mistake,

(12:58):
I was shocked to discover that I didn't care. Watching
the humans was my priority now. It was on that day,
October of the year six thousand and seven I believe
that I first began to wonder if there was a
way to resurrect the glory of my day. I had
learned over many decades that October twenty third had been

(13:19):
forgotten in this part of the world, that its power
wasn't enough to get me high but perhaps I thought
perhaps October thirty first would function just as well. I
eventually came to know this day as Halloween. The humans
believed it was an ancient holiday connected to their religions.

(13:40):
They didn't even seem to remember that the twenty third
was the real day of power. But this was fine.
Every year on the thirtieth, I would try to convince
myself that this was my moment, that I could sneak
out from beneath my home and enjoy the utter bliss
of my day for the first time in decades. I
was never convinced by my own thoughts and was always

(14:03):
left alone in my underground lair. But finally, just three
short years ago, I did it. It was the night
of the thirty first. I knew that it was less
than an hour before the day would end and November
would begin. It would be another year of disappointment, another
oath to myself that I would never let it happen again.

(14:26):
I was not thinking when I crawled from my lair.
Nothing was in my consciousness but the instinct, the all
powerful impulse that commanded my thoughts and forced me to
finally act. Before I understood what I had done, I
was stood on the grass above my home, the lights
from the neighborhood illuminating the human homes. I was shocked.

(14:51):
Since the first human settlement was built in my field,
I hadn't once been out in the open air except
on the twenty third, Yet here I was standing in
the darkness, my feet wet in the grass, almost as
if I were a human being myself. I cannot say
what possessed me to move further. Every instinct in my

(15:12):
body told me to flee, to run and hide in
some distant place with no humans to deny my existence.
But I kept moving somehow, my feet propelling me across
the ground until the wet grass became pavement. The neighborhood
was devoid of humans. Lights were on in many of

(15:32):
the homes, but if anyone saw me walking down the street,
they did not seem to care. As I moved, I
wondered when I would begin to feel that old rush,
that old thrill, or if I ever would. I knew
that leaving my home was likely a mistake, but if
Halloween proved to be no more powerful than any other day,

(15:53):
I would be at a loss. When I was nearly
half way down the road, I noticed something creeping alay
long one of the houses, a movement, though without solid form.
I wondered for a single delirious moment if perhaps one
of my friends had returned to discover the hidden powers
of the thirty first with me Alas. I soon realized

(16:17):
that the movement was nothing but a shadow. In my disappointment,
I failed to recognize what this apparition signaled. When the
little boy came around the corner, I froze in terror.
I was standing in the middle of the street, the
gaudy electric lights blaring down onto my skin. There was

(16:39):
no conceivable way the tiny human wouldn't see me. It
wasn't the same boy I had seen dressed as a
vampire all those years ago. This one had darker skin
and wore a costume similar to my own clothing. When
he saw me, his face drew together in a squint.
He didn't seem afraid. In fact, he seemed to be

(17:00):
pondering me as a whole, as if wondering whether or
not his concept of the world would allow me to exist.
I remained in the middle of the street, unmoving as
the boy stepped closer. He glanced both ways before stepping
off the sidewalk, finally coming to a stop directly in
front of me. In his hand was a plastic imitation

(17:23):
of a pumpkin. Hi, he said, hello, I replied, What
are you supposed to be? He asked, craning his neck
uncomfortably far, just to take in my countenance. I wondered
how he was not afraid? How could he, an innocent
human and a child no less, stare at me, a

(17:44):
creature from beyond his insignificant idea of creation, and not
feel the slightest tremble of worry. Well, I'm your neighbor,
I heard myself saying, I mean, who's your costume? The
boy corrected, frowning up at me. My costume, I repeated.
I was at a total loss as to what he

(18:06):
may have been talking about. Yeah, he said, who were
you supposed to be for Halloween? Yes? I thought, finally
coming to understand I was facing the human's power of
denial first hand. Then terror struck. What if I was
going to die after all these many centuries? What if

(18:31):
I disappeared from existence just because one little boy could
not understand me. Was there some way to prevent being
thought out of creation? Was I to encourage him to
make him think I was some sort of pathetic human
seeking candy instead of an ethereal high so powerful it

(18:51):
could bring the dead back to life. Here, the boy said,
reaching into his pumpkin, looks like you didn't get much candy.
I took the morsel in my hand, Staring down at
the plastic label Snickers, it said, I didn't know what
Snickers was. Do you want it, the boy asked, cause

(19:15):
if you don't, I'll take it back. I do want it,
I insisted, hastily slipping the candy between my lips. My
teeth made short work of the sugary food. You're not
supposed to eat the wrapper, the boy cried, as if
I had done something unspeakable. He was so pathetic. I

(19:35):
thought his view of creation was reduced to this one
neighborhood and what he wasn't allowed to eat. Don't tell
me what I'm not supposed to do, I hissed. The
boy took a step back, and for the first time,
I registered fear in his expression. You never told me
what you were supposed to be, I growled. Oh, the

(20:00):
boy murmured, still craning his neck. I'm I'm a zombie.
A zombie, I repeated, feeling the word around on my tongue.
The candy had stuck to my teeth and continued to
fill my mouth with its sweet taste. I didn't like
the way it refused to leave. What is a zombie?

(20:21):
I purred. The boy took another step back, his expression
growing another degree of fear. Some part of him, I sensed,
some tiny ioda of his being understood that I wasn't
of his kind. It's like a dead person who comes
back to life, the boy explained, his voice wavering very slightly.

(20:44):
I must admit I am not familiar with any such creature,
I mused. My tongue continued to dig at the solidified
candy that dulled the needle sharp points of my teeth.
They're not real, the boy said, covering his fear. With exasperation,
I noted that was so human of him. They're just

(21:07):
made up for comic books and movies. Not real, you say,
I stared down at him, arms at my sides, the
claws on my left hand drummed absently across my leg.
And what is real? I asked? What sort of monsters
do you believe in? I don't believe in monsters, the

(21:28):
boy said, I'm not a little kid any more. He
took another step back. The fake pumpkin slapped against his knee.
Of course you're not, I replied, beginning to lean forward.
My legs remained stationary as I bent at the waist.
But are you sure there are no monsters? I asked? Ye, yeah,

(21:52):
the boy stammered. This time, he didn't move, only watching
as I leaned forward, my upper half bridging the space
between us. If he thought, in some absent recess of
his mind that I seemed to be growing bigger, then
he was absolutely right. But there are always monsters, I continued.

(22:13):
You may think there are none. You may shut off
your bedroom light and tell yourself there's nothing hiding in
your closet. But my child, you are wrong. The boy
said nothing. He stared at me, fear and defiance on
his young face. He stood his ground as my black
eyes stared into him, past his flesh and bones, to

(22:34):
where his innocent soul lay trapped in a mortal body,
begging to be led out and to join me in
my eternal feasting. I knew that yeah would make for
a poor final speech, so I allowed the boy's space
to make a few more remarks. Before I tore his
head from his shoulders. They will not forget me, I thought,

(22:56):
as I carried him down into my home. They will
not forget me, not now, not ever, And they wouldn't.
I finally understood my friends had been wrong. After all,
human denial wasn't to be feared, but combated. It was
my job, and the job of all others like me,

(23:18):
to push the boundaries of the human mind, forcing them
to think up new and more ridiculous explanations until there
was nothing left but to admit the truth. Monsters exist.
The human mind is a twisted, disturbing place. I realized
this as I crouched in the darkness of my home,

(23:40):
tearing the little boy's flesh apart with my bare teeth.
The humans would lie to themselves to pretend we didn't exist,
yet at the same time, they would dedicate an entire
holiday to acting out their pathetic depictions of us, pretending
to be us for nothing more than cheap amusement. Deep down,

(24:01):
they believed, every last one of them believed, And on
that Halloween night, I felt the first whispers of the
old ecstasy that had once defined my day. It was then,
as I sucked the marrow from the little boy's bones
that I knew Halloween and my day had become one.

(24:22):
The next year, I was prepared. After the little Boy's disappearance,
several families left town. They were replaced by others of
their kind, who in turn brought more. Eventually, my impulsive
killing had the effect of bringing more houses to my
once grassy field. To my great annoyance, one of these

(24:43):
houses was built directly on top of mine. I had
the forethought to evacuate myself and whatever remained of the
little boy before construction began. I hid out far away,
careful not to be seen by human eyes. This was
another of their many hypocritical stances. A scary mask was

(25:04):
to be praised on Halloween, but demonized every other day
of the year. When the house was finished, I returned
to my lair. The human bastards had replaced my walls,
my floor, and my ceiling with hard, cold substances that
I knew I would never find appealing. My home had
been ruined. I briefly considered building myself a new one

(25:29):
in the earth, farther away from town, but my friends
had been unable to drag me from it all those
years ago. And if they could not convince me to leave,
then no human could either. I have stayed in the
basement ever since. The humans who live in my house
never come down the shoddy wooden stairs, except occasionally to

(25:49):
check the furnace. On the rare day that one of
them makes an appearance, I keep myself well hidden in
the shadows. It was only on the last Halloween, a
year since my impromptu feast, that I was seen by
any number of humans. Yes, I had known some in
my lives before this home, but ever since coming to

(26:12):
my once grassy field, I had never been seen by
human eyes, barring those of the little boy. When the
sun went down on the night of the thirty first,
the children left their homes to wander the streets. Some
of them were dressed in the brightly colored uniforms of
popular culture heroes. Others had retained the traditions, dressing as

(26:35):
monsters of folklore that would bring fear to their impressionable
younger siblings. Before making my move, I spent some time
watching the children through my basement window. They all seemed
so happy, I thought, so ready to deny the existence
of my people, yet so quick to wear our faces.

(26:57):
It was a double edged sword. I realized only in
that moment, human denial prevented us from being what we
once were. Yet it was their fascination with the supernatural,
their obsession with a world they didn't believe existed, that
allowed us to remain. Denial was our enemy, and fear
was our ally. As long as human beings were afraid

(27:21):
of the dark, as long as they created vivid monsters
out of terror soaked imaginations, I would have power. When
I was sure all the children in town were out
and about, I slipped silently through the basement window and
unfolded myself on the lawn. As I made my way
out into the street, children turned to stare. Some cried

(27:45):
out in surprise, some cowered in fear, but every pair
of youthful eyes was trained on the tall, thin stranger
in their midst. When I came to the center of
the street, I planted my feet where their friend had
died one year earlier, and raised my arms to the heavens.
Happy Halloween, everybody, I cried. My voice echoed down the street.

(28:11):
The children all seemed relieved, and they resumed their normal conversations.
A pair of satans rushed by me clutching their pumpkins.
A werewolf scooted to the other side of the road,
passing by with both eyes fixed warily on my form.
I wanted it. I wanted Halloween. This, not October twenty third,

(28:32):
was the true day of power, not some foolish anniversary
of evil long past, but a holiday based entirely on fear,
celebrated all across the globe. For the first time in many,
many years, I felt the thrill building in my soul.
I felt that high, that euphoria that had once been

(28:53):
accompanied by ghostly figures riding through the night. I stared
at the scene before me, all round me, and I
knew that Halloween was my day now. Slowly I stepped forward.
A crowd of children surrounded me, all babbling and laughing
in excitement. I paid no attention to their words. Instead,

(29:16):
I spread out my arms, allowing the tips of my
fingers to brush against every child I passed. I could
feel them beyond a physical touch. I could feel their excitement,
their pleasure, but, most importantly, buried deep in the parts
of their minds that forced maturity to blossom, their fear.

(29:36):
They were all afraid on some level. What else are
human beings good for, but to fear and deny that
they are afraid. Perhaps some of the adult residents of
the town wondered where the tall man in the hideous
mask had come from. Perhaps some of them, in the
farthest reaches of their conscious thoughts, wondered if I had

(29:58):
anything to do with the child who had gone missing
a year before. I hope they did. I hope they
stood at their windows watching me brush my hands against
their children as I towered three times as high as
the tallest one, and agonized over the question of whether
or not they were becoming paranoid, delusional, perhaps insane with

(30:21):
the unanswered questions that had followed the boy to his grave.
I hope, wherever my old friends are, in whatever part
of the world they have decided is suitably human free,
that they are never happy again. I hope they never
feel the brilliant fireworks of pleasure we used to share
every October twenty third. I hope they never find out

(30:43):
that true immortal bliss is only eight days away. Above all,
I hope the human race continues to grow. I hope
they flourish, each one of them enjoying long, terrifying lives.
I hope they all have children, and that their children
and have children. I hope they teach every new generation

(31:04):
the true meaning of fear. I am the true meaning
of fear. My friends believed they were incapable of being afraid.
But they were afraid of humans and the power they hold.
They were afraid that any flesh and blood mortal could
simply wish them out of existence. And perhaps they could,

(31:24):
But not with me there, not with me hiding in
the shadows, not with me lurking behind every corner, waiting
until their fear reaches its climax to strike. Manipulation is
my game, and terror is my drug. I am Halloween.