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The Whistlers Creepypasta

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Last Played: December 04, 2021
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It's Halloween night, and four boys are walking through the woods outside of town. Only one of them notices the whistling that follows them through the trees. The boy tries to tell his friends, but they say it's just the wind and settle in for a night of ghost stories and candy. But the boy still hears the whistling circling around them in the dark.
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that night, we all hit the streets as soon as the lamps came on, pillowcases in hand and embarked on a sweet journey. We had a theme, as we always did, and we were all dressed as Avengers. When we went out to trick or treat, I was Hawkeye bow slung over my shoulder and cheap mass covered my eyes. Reggie was the Hulk body painted green with absurd foam hulk hands on Israel hands and Terry was Captain America. He store bought costume, topped off by a trashcan lid shield he had painted a star on. We moved from house, the house striking poses on delighting adults as they filled our pillowcases with candy. By the time the porch light started going out with bulging sacks ready to burst from candy, we stopped at our home, dropping off a little excess candy and getting our camping stuff and told our parents where we were going. My mom kissed me goodnight and told me to come straight home. If there was an emergency on with that way set off, we walked the familiar trails into the woods, backpacks and bulging candy sacks weighing us down on the night was lit by a full and ghostly moon ready, and I talked excitedly about the candy, wanting to tell ghost stories as we ate it. But I kept getting distracted. I could swear there was a noise out in the woods, a bird or a high pitched wind. Andi. As we move towards the tree house, it seemed to follow us. The other two were oblivious with the sound made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. We came to the treehouse had long last, and in the full light of the moon, it looks ghostly and strange. Once we were safe inside the treehouse, lanterns on and candy spilled under the floor, I began to feel at ease. This was our sanctuary. Nothing bad could happen to us here. We were Children who had yet to experience loss or real trauma. We were secure in the knowledge that no matter how bad it got, our parents were still protect us from anything. We were foolish, but Children are supposed to be foolish. I guess Reggie was halfway through one of the full size candy bars the Hudson's have been giving out. When Terry suggested we started ghost stories Terry loved scary stories on did. He usually had a good collection of them from the Internet or wherever. Reggie pulled it being by chair over from a corner, and I drug a chair over so we could group up around the lantern. Normally, we would tell us always around the fire pit, but I think we all sensed that tonight it was better to be inside. Halloween was unique somehow. Best to be inside. After dark, Terry brought the flashlight up under his chin, tilting the light, knocked down on the lantern and grinned at her school ish league. This is a true story. I swear it on my life, he said. Theatric league. Before beginning his story, he told us a story about a kid plagued by the ghost of a hobo he and his friends had accidentally killed. They've been playing a trick on him, and he choked to death on the sandwich. After he died, the boy kept seeing him around in windows on street corners, but his friends wouldn't believe him. Then, while the boys right asleep over the ghost struck, I found myself distracted as he told the story. Though the wind blew against a tree house, creaking it in the branches of the old tree. But beneath the wind was a sound, ah, whistling coming from outside. Ah, high pitch keen that was not altogether tuneless. As I listened to it, it almost seemed to move through the surrounding trees. As Terry wove his story, Terry came to the climax of this story, the boys and his friends dying badly as he escaped the sleepover and ran back to his home. The ghostly hobo dug his heels, screaming his name as he chased him through the quiet streets, and the boy had made it home and stand the door in his rotting face. It leaned against it safe at last, But as the banging began, he remembered one important fact. His parents were gone, Terry said, grinning in the flashlight beam. He might have made it home, but he was still at the mercy of the ghostly operation. Terry told us how the door had bowed inward, the ragged Hans pushing the would like wax paper, but I found my attention dragged away again. I could still hear the whistling again closer now, and I could swear there was another noise to rustling leaves, maybe, or leaves cracking underfoot. Well, someone outside our tree house, Andi assed patches pushed at his door trying to catch him. The boy snuck out of his window and disappeared into the night, never to be seen again. Terry seemed to notice then that I wasn't really paying attention. Oh, come on. That was a great story, huh? Yeah. Sorry. Something was distracting me outside. Reggie looked quizzically at me. What was it? I thought I heard some outside moving around in the leaves. Terry turns a look at the bear window, and Reggie walked over to look out into the inky blackness. The moon cast a nod light over his face, but as he scanned the ground, it gave away no sudden surprise. He shrugged his already broad shoulders on, returned to his beanbag chair, he reached for a candy bar and started unwrapping the silver foil. Nothing there, he said after Terry and I stared at him for a few seconds. Must have been the wind
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