Link: https://old.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1vfssws/my_father_has_a_nightly_ritual_he_walks_into_the/

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Emotional_Grape_5497 on 2026-08-05 01:06:19+00:00.

Every night my father does the same ritual. Right before sunset, he makes his way to the garage. He first makes his way to a large black fridge near the entrance to the house. He grabs a nondescript bottle, I assume some kind of beer or alcohol. I’ve inquired multiple times. Each time I’m reprimanded and told:

“Curiosity is the root of all evil which invades our world!”

His next stop is a large white freezer on the opposite side of the garage. This freezer has been with the family longer than I’ve been alive. It hums constantly, and permeates the silence like a plague of locusts. Small rust stains have begun to appear, and expand further every year. The freezer is also locked by a large imposing lock. My father always cautiously makes sure no one sees him unlocking the freezer, but I’ve gotten a couple of glances. However I’ve never seen inside. He removes a small package of red meat which he places on the floor next to the bottle and locks the freezer.

He then makes his way to the backyard. He never lifts his feet more than an inch off the ground as he makes the march into the woods behind the house. His feet drag slowly across the grass and eventually the dirt. He never wears shoes or socks as he makes this trek. He does this ritual every night, and has done it for as long as I can remember.

I attempted to follow him into the woods only on one occasion. I waited for him to make his way into the darkness of the trees before I opened the back door. It was as if he was waiting for me to attempt, as the moment my feet came into contact with the grass he came charging out of the trees. I don’t truly remember everything he said, as what populates my memory the most is the violence he bestowed upon me. He brought a hand to my face and threw me to the ground as he berated me. He continued to assault me for a few minutes before leaving me on the ground in a dazed and broken state. I watched him make his way back into the woods from my place on the ground. Eventually I crawled my way back inside.

After years of watching him conduct this ritual I decided to allow curiosity to take root. I waited till I heard the clamoring of the lock on the freezer to make my move. I waited patiently for him to make his way out the back door. I made my way out the front and slowly walked down the street to a roundabout in the neighborhood. This particular roundabout had one side which hugged the edge of the woods. I made my way in, and towards the direction where I knew the house sat.

As I moved through the woods I felt the temperature drop as the anxiety in my mind began to creep. Eventually the trees gave way to a small dirt path with a distinct set of tracks which could only be my father’s dragging feet. I moved through the trees along the path and came across a small clearing. My father stood in the center with a shovel stood next to him.

He placed the package of red meat and bottle on the ground before removing his shirt. He retrieved the bottle and brought it to his lips and drank from it with a fervor. He threw it to his side and started gagging. He began to vomit up a black liquid. He fell to his knees as the liquid forcibly escaped his body. It was a stream of viscous liquid which piled up and formed a small undulating mass.

My father gained his composure and made his way to his feet, grabbed the shovel, and began to dig a hole. It didn’t seem to take him long before he placed the shovel down and took up the package of red meat. He cut the package open, leaned down, and placed the meat in the hole. As soon as he placed the meat down the undulating mass of black liquid moved on its own to the hole.

My father grabbed the shovel and placed the dirt back into the hole; burying the meat and the black liquid. As if it had been in reaction to the hole being covered, the ground began to move under my father’s feet. It looked as if something was pushing against the ground. At first it was just the point where he dug the hole, but eventually it began to spread to the outskirts of the clearing. The ground under my feet shook.

I slowly backed away from the edge of the clearing before a piercing ring invaded my mind. I fell to the ground in pain, and felt my mind being overwhelmed by the shrill scream of thousands of lost souls. My vision began to fade as I started dragging myself back further into the forest hoping for some method of escape. I couldn’t let myself be caught by my father and face his wrath.

I brought my forearm to my mouth and bit down hard in an attempt to keep myself quiet and focused on anything else but the screams in my head. I dragged myself inch by inch along the forest floor. The blood from my arm filling my mouth as my teeth dug deeper into my own flesh. Eventually the screams began to fade, and I was able to bring myself to my feet. The forest felt as if it would go on forever until eventually the house came into view.

Tears streamed from my eyes as I looked upon this house which had been a metaphorical prison for years. However, all prisons have their warden. Before I was able to make my way into the house I felt his looming presence behind me. I closed my eyes in anticipation of his wrath. However, I heard the distinct sound of weeping.

I opened my eyes to see my father holding me tight within his embrace. He was crying as his arms wrapped tighter around me. I didn’t know what to say or do, and instinctually moved my arms and reciprocated his embrace. He released me and slowly made his way inside the house. I stood in fear that at any point he would turn and release the rage he felt in his heart of hearts. However that moment never came to pass.

I still think back to that day. Now I just watch my father do his daily ritual. I watch him make the trek into those woods. Every now and then I hear the screams which permeated my mind once before. I no longer have the curiosity about what my father does, but I fear one day I will be asked to make my way into the woods with him.