A true (?) story.
When it all began, I was a lonely seventh grader at a large public school. I had few friends there, and even these “friends” of mine bullied and mistreated me more often then not. So I made my friends at church. At this point in my life, I was deeply religious, even at such a young age. I prayed and read the Bible daily, and my family regularly attended church. However, no matter how much effort I put into my religion, I always felt a great distance between me and God. I could spend all day praying, but every time I tried, I still felt like I was talking to the wall. How could I know He was there at all if I couldn’t see Him, couldn’t hear Him, couldn’t feel Him?
But my father – oh, he could hear God just fine. I knew because he had seen them – seen the Angels.
My father and my mother, still married at this time, disagreed upon many issues, especially religious ones. So as the tension between them grew, my father turned to other sources of fulfillment. He began taking long walks each day, during which he would spend hours praying. He developed a kind of distant look in his eye, which constantly hinted at the fact that he was occupied with things outside our world. This only increased the tension in the household, as my mother accused him of being neglectful of household chores and duties.
Then, when he and I were doing yard work one day, my father revealed to me his Gift.
“Son, this may sound strange at first,” he told me, nervously clearing his throat, “but I had a vision from God.” He then began to describe to me his vision. Jesus had led him to the top of a high mountain overlooking the whole world. Upon the mountain, Jesus told my father that He was sending him out as His servant to win back the world for the Cross. My father resisted, claiming he did not have the gifts to take on such a task. Jesus then told my father that He was going to give him a special ability to aid him: the ability to see and communicate with spiritual beings. This would help my father complete his task. Still my father resisted, saying he was not worthy of such power. Jesus, becoming angry, swiftly brought my father down to the depths of Hell. My father looked upon the Lake of Fire. Thousands of thousands of souls were drowning in its flames, wailing in agony. Their skin was bubbling and dripping off in large clots from the intensity of the heat; the hair was completely singed off their heads; their bloodshot eyes burned red from the flaming tongues that continually licked them. My father grew sick to his stomach. “Do you see this?” Jesus said to him. “This is what will happen if you do not act soon. If you refuse to obey your calling, you shall be responsible for the eternal death of millions.”
I was speechless. But that was not all. My father then went on to tell me that in the days following the vision, he had begun to see the Angels, just as Jesus had said he would. “They’re everywhere. They’re invisible to human eyes, but I can see them. Dozens of them. They’re the most majestic creatures.”
I had no idea what to say. How could I know, when my father had actually just told me in all earnestness that he suddenly had the power to see angels and spiritual beings? Was I losing my mind? Was this a strange dream?
Yet, even as insane as it sounded, I wondered: Was this the answer I had been looking for? I had never been able to hear God talk back to me before. Maybe that would all change now. Maybe I could finally see God, hear Him, feel him myself.
“Dad, do you think one day I’ll be able to see them too?”
“Of course you will! It will take time, but if you have faith, nothing will be invisible to you.” And so began my quest of faith, my quest to see these beings for myself, to see God.
Over the next several months, my father shared with me his stories about his frequent encounters with the Angels. He warned me never to tell another living soul, not even my mother; God had commanded him to keep his Gift a secret from all except me. Car rides with my father became adventures, as he would describe his conversations with the beings. Usually they appeared to him during his solitary prayer walks, or while he was out anywhere by himself.
Part of my father’s Gift was the ability to speak in angelic tongues, and it was in these tongues that he communicated with the Angels. They would discuss the spiritual state of matters in the world, or go over details concerning my father’s mission, or sometimes simply exchange words of wisdom. Each Angel had a name and a distinct personality and appearance, all of which I have long forgotten. Most of these names I had never heard before, but once every so often my father would tell me how he had met Michael or Gabriel, or one of the other Archangels. The vividness with which he reported his encounters to me was incredible; I felt as though I were there amongst the Angels myself. The more I heard, the more urgently I wanted to see them with my own eyes. My father became my greatest hero. Obviously he was the most pious man I had ever known. Who else but the saints had ever been blessed with speaking with spiritual beings on a daily basis? I quickly became obsessed with gaining my father’s abilities. If only I was less sinful, less worldly, a little more like my father.
Time passed, and as my father began to meet with the Angels more and more, I became more and more frustrated with myself for not being able to see them. But I learned to be patient. My father assured me that my time would come. One day, I too would look upon with Gabriel with my own two eyes.
School let out for the summer, and that left more time than ever for spiritual growth. My father embarked upon his God-given mission, working and preaching at Christian events and concerts. He often met other believers who recognized the spiritual power within him, and they would have long theological discussions. Meanwhile, I sought to bring myself up to par spiritually by praying and reading my Bible for hours every day. The journey was difficult, and I often felt that I was getting nowhere, but I held onto hope.
And then, everything changed.
It was toward the end of the summer, and our family, including my parents, my two sisters, my mom’s parents, and myself, headed down to Destin, Florida, for a week-long vacation. Due to our financial situation and the limited number of vehicles, we had decided that my mother and sisters would fly by plane to Destin while my grandparents drove down in one car and my father and I drove in another. The day of departure arrived, and my father and I climbed into our car with the bulk of the luggage, ready to embark upon the fourteen-hour drive to Florida.
Naturally, it only took a few minutes before we began discussing spiritual matters. My father had more stories to share, and I listened eagerly. He spoke of his words with the Angels, and described their splendor, and as he kept telling me about it all, I again experienced that feeling of inadequacy and the desire to be able to see the Angels too. At one point I asked him what it was like to speak in tongues.
“Oh, it’s very simple,” he told me. “You know when you’re speaking their language because don’t even have to try. The words just flow right out. That’s because the Spirit of God is in you, inspiring the words. It’s not really you who’s talking at all. God is doing the talking through you.”
“I hope I’ll be able to speak in tongues someday,” I said, sighing.
“You can right now, if you have faith,” my father replied.
“I can? You mean, really?”
“What did Jesus say to his disciples? What if you have faith even a little as a mustard seed?”
“You can move mountains.”
“Well, surely speaking in tongues is a lot easier than moving a mountain! Go on, try it.”
I was suddenly nervous. I didn’t know what to do. Was this actually happening? Was I really about to try to speak an angelic language? After a long, awkward pause, I finally blurted out a jumbled pile of nonsense, just whatever came to my head. It was very short, maybe a sentence or two, if you could even call them sentences. I was embarrassed; I knew my father would laugh at me.
“You did it! See?” My father exclaimed, much to my surprise. “You just spoke their language! All you need is faith. I’m proud of you, son.”
“I really did it then, huh?” I said, trying to hide the fact that I wasn’t convinced. I knew I had just made those words up; there was no Spirit of God involved. But I didn’t want to disappoint my father, so I played along. I even talked myself into half-believing that maybe I had done it, maybe I was just too young to realize it. Regardless, I never made a second attempt after that day.
The vacation in Florida was a disaster. My mother and father argued practically the entire time, and it made everyone else just miserable. Looking back, that trip was one of the lowest points in their whole marriage. Much of the fighting was due to the fact that my father was becoming increasingly out of touch with the family as he was focusing on his time with the Angels. Of course, I was the only one who knew this, but everyone could tell something was going on in his head. I wished I could just blurt out the truth and defend my father. I wanted to end the fighting and tell everyone that he was actually trying to save souls, and that meanwhile they were angry at him for it.
The vacation finally ended, and the family went their separate ways for the return journey. My father and I once again were in the car alone. This time, things were much different.
At one point, my father told me that he had something very terrible to tell me. “I’ve been having more visions,” he told me. “I’ve been talking to God, and God told me that your mother is going to die. Soon.”
I turned still as stone. The world froze. My brain turned numb. I had just been told that my mother was going to die. I tried to digest it; the idea was almost too preposterous to fit in my head.
He went on to tell me that he did not know how she would die, but that he had been given a date. He could not share the date with me, however; but it was to happen soon, in accordance with God’s plan. Meanwhile, God had shown my father the woman he would marry when my mother had died. She was a woman he had met at one of the Christian concerts he had worked at. She would become our new stepmother.
The rest of the trip was spent recovering from the news. As horrible as it was, I knew God must have had a plan. If I was to one day experience him fully, I would have to trust him in all things. I tried to remember that when we arrived back at home.
A week later I was in Oregon visiting my cousins right before school started. My father had told me that he would stay in touch with me. I still did not know when my mother’s time would come, and I was filled with anxiety from the suspense. I tried to enjoy my last vacation of the summer, but it was hard when I had to live with the fact that my mother might die any day.
Then, about halfway through my trip, I checked my phone before I went to bed one night and saw I had a voice message. It was from my father. My heart skipped a beat. Not knowing what to expect, I reluctantly picked up the phone and called voice mail. I listened to my father’s message; I could hear the sadness in his voice.
“Hey, it’s Dad. I have some bad news. I know this will be hard to take in. Remember how I said that God told me your mother was going to die? Well, today was supposed to be the day. Son, your mother is still very much alive. All the visions, all the angels, all the conversations with God – none of that was real. I’ve gone to the doctor and found out that I suffer from bipolar disorder and severe hallucinations. I am mentally ill, and I’ve been prescribed medication. I’m so sorry I drug you through all my craziness. I guess we have a lot to talk about. Give me a call when you get a chance. Bye.”
I set down the phone. Then I collapsed onto my bed and began sobbing.
Five years later, I am finally writing down the full account of this story. Maybe it has touched you; maybe it has left you disappointed. My father still struggles with his mental illnesses today, but with counselling and medication he is able to live a happy, quiet life. He has spent many years rebuilding his relationship with God. He continues to pray and read the Bible daily, and he attends church every week. As for myself, I always find it hard to open up my Bible, and whenever I take a shot at saying a prayer, I usually feel like I’m still talking to the wall.
61 Comments on 'The Gift'
One of the best stories i’ve ever read. I really love it.
I genuinely enjoyed the plot to this story. The narrator’s struggles with spirituality and his father are unique yet relatable. That said, I do not feel this is the right website for this story. Although it has its suspense, the story did not strike me as creepy, paranormal, horrific, etc. This is coming-of-age story – albeit a strange one – not a creepypasta.
This was quite a “different” pasta, I have to say. It was very consensual to the religious readers for not delving into the departure of god or Jesus, so I have to say this was quite interesting. This story could of been offensive, crude, and ponderous. But it ended up being very colorful in it’s words. It did not burst my expectations, but It led a very strange message in my mind. This may have had an anti-climatic ending, but it did deal with this site’s rules. I give my condolences to your father, but please keep writing. Your sense of realism could become a hit for this type of website. So for this story, I’d give a 3.2- but I would increase it if the story had more of a “supernatural” feel to it. Have a good day.
i thought it was fake, but that the father was going to kill the mother.
Although I did enjoy this pasta and believe it was written very well, I think it could be slightly improved by more discriptions as to what the “angels” looked like and maybe more detail in the plot.
But… WHY?!? I wanted to see the Angels! 🙁
very different pasta.. but a very intresting read..
It really was pretty disappointing. Not exactly impressed, and it was anticlimactic. Oh no, mental illness … Lol definitely not creepy.
i enjoyed the story itself. the ending was very abrupt though. it is labeled as a true story so considering events its kind of understandable. but at the same time its your work! do with it as you please!!
What I really enjoyed about this creepypasta is the fact that it used madness to scare. Something Poe was famous for. It’s a little rough around the edges, but still very enjoyable.
it was perfect,i give it 10/10
That’s not at all how bipolar disorder works. Ruined the entire story for me
good but kind of depressing otherwise great 5 ⭐️
If you like fantasy and some little changes of the bible you gonna like this….
What…. so it looks like a hallucination not real…
the story is interesting but in the end i don’t like it
i didn’t find it realistic enough to be creepy, maybe do some research on mental illnesses to add some detail.
the ending was quite abrupt and somewhat predictable, but i like the idea.
The story was great Grammar Was mostly good except for a few occasions, However this story does not work as a Creepy Pasta, Perhaps if you uploaded this onto a Reddit Thread or even as a seperate Genre Entirely then it would work, however I do not find anything else wrong with this Pasta Great job!
Well it wasent exactly creepy but i did apriciate the story, had wished the end be slightly more evil but overall it was alright. Might suggest trying to shorten the text and bring in more action into it. Since it was mostly around the beginning and the end things happen really. Anyways nice try :/
What i like about the story is that it might be true.
This was a great story in the fact that it is true (?). It would have freaked me out had my father been like this. It isn’t exactly my type of pasta but it was different in a good way.
My father did something similar after 9/11 always ranting about needing to be ready to run away if the “enemy” invaded. Sad to read about this. I hope you can recover from it. Same for him.
This could have actually been good, but the abrupt ending and misuse of what bipolar disorder actually is completely ruins it. As someone mentioned above, this could’ve been very good and an actual creepy pasta if the father killed the mother, whether it was because of an actual mental illness that drove him to murder her (in the name of God perhaps) or if he was just evil and purposefully misled the narrator with all his spiritual talk to try and get away with murder.
It’s a ripoff of a 2002 Bill Paxton movie called “Frailty”
It was very similar to a 2002 psychological thriller film called “Frailty” starring Bill Paxton.
I enjoyed this, it was interesting. But then again not all that scary for a change 🙂 <3
I surprisingly really enjoyed this. I was super into the story. Fascinating, thanks for sharing
“creepymasta” says all the creepypastas are different with some other dudes that also say it is a different creepy pasta just to make everyone give them influence and a good rating.
so i just say FUCK THEM and give them a lower rating, and i suggest all of you guys to do the same, and take away all of their influence
I feel bad for laughing at this…
Sorry to say this but tho is one of a very few pastas I’ve ever read here or anywhere that I genuinely have to say I really just don’t like it.
People please leave religion out of it …. It could cause a lot of wounds to be opened or reopened for some people. (Sadly myself included).
The writer does however have good style .
im sorry but if mr creapy pasta (yeas the person that made the first creapy pastas) reads this thank you for giving me a aouto (fuck grammer) graph thanks man love ya
Pretty anticlimactic and boring to be honest. Maybe more interesting if it had been written from the father’s point of view? To be honest it just seemed like a description of a delusional disorder right from the beginning. also, bipolar doesn’t nessecarily cause delusions and it didn’t really represent the UPS and downs of bipolar.
You Guy’s should cheack out some of Mine.
That’s pretty creepy…..✌
awesome story and is very lifelike. anything is possible
Bipolar or was it schizophrenic?
Many people who read this story will think that the ending is anti-climatic and as a result won’t like the story, but I loved it more than I thought I would. While the story was never really creepy, it was very engrossing. Your writing style is excellent. The only thing I would have to say as a negative is that bipolar disorder would not cause the father’s delusions in real life. It’s actually a mental disorder associated with extreme mood swings. And the ending sentence, tying right back into the beginning of the story, absolutely the right way to end a story solidly. Overall, I would give this story a 3.8/5.
Different but i still enjoyed reading it.i thought at first that the dad was going to murder the mother and that he was going to use “his gift” as a cover up
As a Christian I can say this creepy pasta definitely delivered. At the beginning I’m like awesome, man on a mission! And in the end I get hit right in the groind with the twist I think I saw coming. I think it certainly is one of the more disturing ones. The thought that mabey god and angles are all fake and only a delusional fantasy is something that will desturb even the most firm believer.
Well, done! I did not see it coming, I thought the dad was going to kill the mom. I’d work on building up the suspense more so people are a little more scared.
the story was great! just not very creepy
Loved how well it is played in such a manner that you have no way of knowing if it’s true or not. Though some complain about the abrupt ending I think that’s one of the things that make it seem such a uniquely possible creepypasta
that was different and good. i liked it keep on writing
amazing story and different I like it great job.
i would of liked if there was more description of the angels and what father talked about to them otherwise this would be the perfect creepypasta
This is fake. As someone who is truly bipolar. And I mean scans, blood work, not just a doctor saying I am. It does not cause you to see things. Different disorder that can be linked with bipolar it is not. And both don’t have to have the other. A$$hat. Thanks for making the bipolar stereotype even worse.
This was a very emotional pasta, it touched a sensitive topic, which is religion. It pretty much made you doubt your own religion, and that’s why it’s so good, I love it.
I thought it was a decent pasta. The story really let the reader’s mind run wild (is the Dad who he says, is he just delusional, is he using it as an excuse, is he going to kill the mother). The mother’s “death” brought a good deal of creepiness and suspicion to the story, but at the end of the day he was just a good man with some mental health problems. It’s okay to have a story without a crazy ending or big twist. Something closer to a somber reality can be just as scary sometimes – much more so than many of the cliche endings that are over-used.
Please, if you are going to use a mental illness to explain away your story, research the illness first. I am bipolar, and this is just plain and simply, not it.
LOL I’m not sure if this was supposed to be funny … but it was hilarious to me!
I personally enjoyed the story. Not necessarily a paranormal story, but rather sad. I’m a little disheartened by some of the comments here, though. There is a difference between saying he has bipolar AND hallucinations, and saying he has hallucinations BECAUSE of bipolar disorder. Also, just because it never mentioned what TYPE of doctor he went to, one would be led to believe that he is seeing a psychologist, not a general practitioner. And lastly, there really is no way for the writer to expand his plot if this is in fact based on something that he actually experienced and not just a fictional story. I feel it fits in with creepypasta, just not in a way we are used to.
Bipolar?? Um nope
HA all that fucking Jesus and God bullshit is all fake damn u people don’t know science when it slaps u across the face he’s obviously crazy
It was interesting and rlly touching. srry if that actually happened to you and your family
As someone who actually has bipolar disorder the ending completely ruined it. For one, this is not an accurate description of bipolar disorder at all and only works to encourage the stigma associated with mental illnesses. Very irresponsible. Also, you don’t just say, oops, made a mistake and go to the doctor and get a diagnosis and meds. It is a process that involves speaking with a psychiatrist to come to a diagnosis. The entire way you handled the mental illness part was just so wrong, if your father is truly ill you should have much more knowledge of the process and of dealing with mental illness.
i liked this.
i believe it was real and the ? is because you maybe aren’t 100% happened with your dad.
its frustrating reading the comments telling you how the story could be better because it seemed it really did happen.. if that is the case – i hope you and your father are doing well today.
ido agree that this was not a creepypasta – however i still enjoyed reading it very much.
I was expecting a creepy-pasta, not a life story or a memory.
We with BD do NOT hallucinate.