December 2, 2025 • 16 mins
Winning's Winning
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📹 Video!: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RvV3aTZahfo
📖 Read Along!: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1h5zyjv/winning_my_last_race_at_any_cost_even_my_legs/
Check out my new books! A collection of Creepypasta compiled by some of my all time favorite authors and friends!
💀 Volume 1: http://a.co/iNqTwRZ
💀 Volume 2: http://a.co/i0O9zks
💀 Comic Book: http://a.co/2POGdNW
🧊 Chill with the Community!: https://www.thechillingapp.com/
Visit the stores!
🍵 Wife's Tea Shop: https://etsy.com/shop/IvoryMonocleTea
👕 Shirts & Stuff!: https://shop.spreadshirt.com/MrCreepyPasta/
💰 Patreon (Only if you want to kids!): https://www.patreon.com/MrCreepyPasta
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:01):
As I look at my bedroom wall, I see a
tangled collection of metals that hang from dusty hooks. The
sea of silver and bronze adorned at the end of
ribbons and all colors, a physical representation of a lifetime
achievement that would make anyone happy, but but not me.
It's a reminder that I've never finished first once in
(00:25):
my life. I should be content with the numerous times
I've finished on the podium, but being as competitive as
I am, I won't allow myself to be happy until
I have something gold to outshine the rest. I've been
running for as long as I can remember. My parents
used to call me Speedy Jack, as I was always
(00:46):
racing around the house as a kid. When I got
to high school, I was always out on the track competing.
My bones start to create crack and pop as I
move around, start getting ready for the day. Thirty six
year old man past his running prime, stares back at
me in the foggy bathroom near her. My competitive days
(01:08):
are quickly slipping away. The thought of finally winning something
gold as it's outpacing me. Images of X rays flood
my mind, and the life altering echo of my physiotherapist
explaining to me that my knees are done for and
that I should start slowing down or risk damaging them
even further. Still rings in my ears. My attention is
(01:31):
diverted when my phone vibrates and the screen lights up.
I see a message for my old friend and running rival, Michael. Hey, Jack,
don't forget about the race this week, and I can't
wait to beat you like always. The text preview reads,
the scoff out loud. Of course I didn't forget. This
(01:52):
is my favorite race of the year, the annual Hillsbury
Fall Marathon. Nothing like running in the cool autumn breeze,
fast forests filled with yellow and amber leaves. I've been
training all year for this race, You'd say I've been
training my whole life for it. As for speedy Jack,
this would be my last chance to cross that finish
(02:13):
line before everyone else, specially Michael. Little did I know
this would be the last race of my life. Roads,
rain drenched from the night before, wind and snake. As
I drive into Hillsbury Town Center from home, excited crowds
(02:34):
have a mask to watch the race, and I'm slowed
to a snail's pace through the car park looking for
a spot despite arriving early. When I find some empty
spots down the back, I get out and feel the
sting of cold air. My running attire wasn't made to
keep me warm standing still, so I quickly began limbering
up as I use the sight of my cars leverage
to do some stretches. Blue runner tape wrap tightly around
(02:58):
my knees and shins doesn't stop some pain from emerging.
As I firmly massage the surrounding muscles, I hear Michael's
car coming in the distance. He drives an obnoxiously red
sports car that matches his personality all too well. Loud
engine noises reverberate when he enters the car park trying
to impress people, and see a smug grin when he
(03:19):
parks beside me. Michael's laugh is immediate the moment he
opens his car door, and I grit my teeth in
anticipation of what stupid remarks are about to spew from
his mouth. Good stretching. See you get ready for a
second place again, jackie boy, he says. Second you're thinking
of your ambitions? I say, through a fake and bitter laugh.
(03:40):
Aren't you going to stretch, shutting his hands deep in
his pockets, moving his arms around like he's searching for something.
He pulls out a bald up hand. When he opens it,
I see a bunch of little white pills in the
center of his palm. Immediately, Michael throws one pill to
the back of his mouth before I get a chance
to ask him what it is. Oh, I need to
stretch now I have this, he mumbles. He tries to
(04:02):
swallow the pill dry. What is it this time? I asked, Oh,
you know, bitter of this bitter? That something to give
me an edge? You one? Michael offers. This is no
shock to me. I've always known that Michael takes things
before race is to give him an advantage. Anyone else
would probably report him, But to me, he's a toxic
friend that I put up with because I've run with
(04:23):
him for almost a decade, and it's easier to put
up with him than come to these things alone. No,
I don't cheat, Michael. I want my wind to be real,
I say, condescendingly real. Come on, Jack, this is in
the Olympics. No one's going to drug test. Would you
want to get your first win against me here? In
(04:43):
case you change your mind while you're looking at my
back in the race, Michael jokes as he shoves some
of the pills into my left pocket. Red anger flushes
my face because despite hating the idea of cheating, I
had the idea of him beating me again even more.
I open my mind to tell him I don't want
anything to do with these pills, before I'm interrupted by
the race announcer over a megaphone, calling for all runners
(05:06):
to head to the starting area. Ah, baby, these are
good ones. I can feel it already, Michael says excitedly
as he starts running out of the car park. I
almost can't hear him yelling just remember it's important only
to take one per hour. Be waiting for you to
finish line. He starts putting distance between us, tapping my
pocket and feeling the pills the bottom. I sigh an
(05:28):
annoyance and start running in the same direction, but I
regret not throwing them out there. And then. The starting
area is located on the main road of Hillsbury. They've
painted a big, bright, colorful square for all of us
to stand in, flanked by barricades separating the race from
the roaring fans. Looking around I start to size up
(05:49):
the competition. There are many strong looking athletes, both men
and women, maybe fifty in total, many faces I recognize
that I've beaten before, but also many new faces. That
doesn't fill me with confidence. But I take a moment
to close my eyes and focus on breathing, clearing my mind,
and preparing to give it my all. I come back
(06:11):
to reality when I hear the countdown begin over an
old buzzing megaphone, and my heart begins to beat faster.
As the announcer holds up the firing gun while everyone
assumes their starting positions, I could see Michael in my periphery, lazily,
just standing there like he has not a care in
the world. The gun fires with a thundering crack, and
(06:33):
everyone starts moving differently. I take it easy, as this
is going to be a long race, but fast enough
to overtake a handful of slower runners in front of me.
Looking ahead, I can see Michael as a couple of
places in front of me. He always starts strong and
somehow maintains this momentum the whole race. Is he really
that good? It is if the pills, I think, negatively
(06:53):
distracted by my jealous thoughts. I trip over an unseen
part of the road and stumble trying to regain my
balance on the wet ass fault. I fall and I
land hard on my knees and hands. Many runners start
to pass me as I picked myself up and fight
the pain of my newly acquired bleeding scratches. I grit
my teeth in frustration and hold back tears from forming
in my eyes as I start to push myself to
(07:14):
make up for the valuable time and positions I've lost
twenty minutes past, and I've reclaimed most of the places
I've lost at the expense of my legs. My calves
and ankles are starting to burn with a build up
of lactic acid, and I know I need to slow
down and maintain my energy, otherwise I'd burn out well
before the finish line. Counting the runners in front of
me while keeping watch of the road so I don't
(07:35):
make another mistake. I see nine ahead of me. It's
hard to not feel discouraged about being in tenth place,
but I know there's still plenty of road to go.
Michael's in second place, and I could see him turn
his head and look back for me. He gives me
another one of those smug grins when his eyes find mine,
before quickening his pace and overtaking the runner in first place.
(07:58):
In no way, I'm losing to Michael Ackin. Clouded with outrage,
I shoved my hand deep into my pocket, desperately searching
for pills I hope didn't fall out during my trip.
Without a second thought, I pull one out and shove
it in my mouth. It takes a lot of effort
to keep up with the pack and Michael. For the
next five minutes, we'llowing for the pills to kick in.
But then then I start to feel the pain in
my legs ease, my ankles feel loose, my heels bounce
(08:21):
off the pavement with a spring in my step. My
breathing becomes steadier, my heart rate slows. Wow, this is
really why Michael has won so many races. I wonder
guilt starts to set in, but I push it aside
with excitement. I feel better now than when I started,
so I increase my speed and overtake many of the
racers before me. There's this one person between myself and
(08:43):
Michael now, and I'm quickly gaining on both of them.
The second place runner dressed in all blue, starts to
slow down as they reach for a water bottle on
the sideline. We've all been running for a long time now,
and everyone's tired and dehydrated. I consider using a few
seconds to go for water, but while feeling good, I
take the opportunity to pass. Now in second place, I
can see the remaining distance between Michael and me, and
(09:04):
I know what needs to be done. Slowly gaining on Michael,
I start to feel the pain come back in my legs,
the blood from my previous wounds leak as my breathing
quickens start to sweat profusely. The loud sound of my short,
fatigued breaths reaches Michael's ears, and he turns to see
me with much surprise, look yousided to join the winner's
club shots. Michael think about responding with something annoyingly humorous,
(09:28):
but my calves painfully tight. It's starting to burn. As
I push through the pain and wipe a waterfall of
sweat from my forehead, I noticed Michael is giving it
at all to keep the lead, and he starts pulling
ahead even more, and anxious thoughts begin to flood my mind.
Is Michael really this good. Did he take another pill
during the race? He must have. There's no way he
(09:49):
could still be going at this pace. I have to
beat him. I have to do everything I can to
win this race. As he turns the bend in the
road of Hillsbury, I know the it was about thirty
minutes left in the race, and I desperately shove my
hand in my pocket again for the pills. Feeling the
last three and or without hesitation or intelligent thought, I
throw all of them to the back of my mouth
(10:11):
and take a big swallow, which makes the dry pills
stick to the side of my throat, frantically swallowing multiple
times to force them all down. This time, the pills
kick in much quicker, and I assume this must have
been what Michael did to keep ahead of everyone else. Strangely, though,
I notice Michael starts to slow down, and I finally
take the opportunity to pull up alongside him. His face
(10:31):
is stunned when he notices me smiling and running with ease.
See at the finish line, I say, extatically. My feet
smash the pavement with determination I've never felt before. I
can already picture myself crossing the finish line, and now
nothing is going to stop me. My thoughts are disrupted
when I hear Michael shouting from MI mind, What the
hell did you do? You take more than one jack?
That's not safe? But I can't wipe the smile from
(10:54):
my face. This is my time to win. I take
in the surrounding beauty of hills, bear leaf covered forest
floors saturated with colors of marrigold tangerine, sounds of a
nearby stream slowly flood by, and the trees sway and
groan in the wind. Now that it's not drowned out
by the roaring sound of stampeding footsteps around me. All
(11:15):
of a sudden, I feel an agonizing stabbing pain and
hear a loud crack from my left leg. I look
down and noticed something very strange. My legs are a
deep shade of bluish purple. My veins are bulging out,
and I can see the blood pulsing through them. Reaching
down to feel my calves, I'm shocked. There's solid as
a rock. The sharp stabbing pain returns. My run briefly
(11:38):
turns to a skit before regaining my balance and continuing.
This is the side effect of the pills. I start
to worry I can't lose, not when I'm this close.
I shake the thought I can worry about my legs.
After I win, the road in front of me crests
and I can see the finish line on the horizon.
I quickly glanced behind me to see Michael far back
but still within passing distance of I falter again, and
(12:00):
he notices me looking and tries to flag me down
with a worried look on his face. I ignore him,
as he's probably just trying to slow me down to
catch up. I give every bit of energy I have
while I still can. This doesn't last long, though, As
the pills effects start to diminish rapidly, my breathing quickens.
My legs are now furiously burning. The sweat from my
forehead is pouring down over my eyebrows, and I could
(12:22):
barely see as it trickles over my eyes. The noises
of the forest are now drowned out by my heavy
breathing and the pounding rhythm of my heart beat. I
never felt this exhausted in any race previously, but I assume.
I assume it's because I've never been able to run
this hard before. The finish line is growing, and I
can see now the crowd cheering from the sidelines, faces
filled with smiles, hands shaking, handwritten poster boards to celebrate
(12:47):
their family and friends achievements. The pain is unbearable now.
I continue to wipe a massive sweat from my eyes
so I can examine my legs. I'm filled with dread
to see they're now a mixture of inky black and
deep crimson. A sharp pain shoots up from my feet
to my thighs with every step. I consider slowing down
for a second, but my knees, my knees won't take
(13:08):
any more racist. I've never had this opportunity, so I
have to win. The crowd's eyes are fixated on me
as I enter the last one hundred meters into the
finish area. Most are cheering loudly in summer, even taking photos.
I put my arms up in the air, ready to
be the first runner to burst through the finish ripon
and finally receive that gold medal I've worked so hard for.
(13:28):
The picture of the crowd cheering suddenly changes. I look
around and I see a sea of happy faces. They've
been replaced by a look of horror and disgust. Screens
start to increase as more and more of the crowd
begin noticing something about me, and I look down to
see what everyone is now pointing at. It takes me
a while to recognize what I'm looking at, and even
(13:50):
when my brain finally puts the sight into conscious thoughts,
I struggle to comprehend it. Most of my legs are gone,
my calves have exploded. My leg mass is now being
dragged behind me in ribbons of tentons. Pools of blood
(14:11):
erupted from my shoes and make a disgusting squelching sound
with every step I take. Without enough muscle to support
my left shin bone, it gives way and snaps so
loud it startles some of the crowd from screaming. I
don't have the time over the warrior look behind me
to notice where my foot has been left. Parents cover
their children's faces as I stab my shin bone into
(14:32):
the ground to support my weight and travel the remaining distance,
fighting through my tears and the excruciating pain. I still
have my arms in the air as I hobble through
the finish banner while leaving a bloody trail. The blood
loss sends my head into a woozy state, and the
screams blur into the sound that I embrace his cheers again.
A smile forms on my pale face, and I use
(14:54):
all my strength to remain standing on my grotesque stumps. Winning.
He's winning. I say, hey, did you like that Creepy
(15:14):
Pasta story that you heard today? I bet you did
because you'd stuck around to hear the outro. So if
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over to the Creepy Pasta Collection Volume one and Volume two.
Volume one and Volume two also have a bunch of
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in the past fifteen years, which I think is pretty
high praising sains. This is like, what four thousand stories,
That's right, four thousand stories. Subscribe you'll see them. But yes,
(15:36):
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on this list of patreons. Some of these amazing folks
are Diana kraus, Aseid System, Blake Rattler, Brandon Mendoza, Redda Crow,
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(15:56):
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as always, folks, Sweet dreams,
As I look at my bedroom wall, I see a
tangled collection of metals that hang from dusty hooks. The
sea of silver and bronze adorned at the end of
ribbons and all colors, a physical representation of a lifetime
achievement that would make anyone happy, but but not me.
It's a reminder that I've never finished first once in
(00:25):
my life. I should be content with the numerous times
I've finished on the podium, but being as competitive as
I am, I won't allow myself to be happy until
I have something gold to outshine the rest. I've been
running for as long as I can remember. My parents
used to call me Speedy Jack, as I was always
(00:46):
racing around the house as a kid. When I got
to high school, I was always out on the track competing.
My bones start to create crack and pop as I
move around, start getting ready for the day. Thirty six
year old man past his running prime, stares back at
me in the foggy bathroom near her. My competitive days
(01:08):
are quickly slipping away. The thought of finally winning something
gold as it's outpacing me. Images of X rays flood
my mind, and the life altering echo of my physiotherapist
explaining to me that my knees are done for and
that I should start slowing down or risk damaging them
even further. Still rings in my ears. My attention is
(01:31):
diverted when my phone vibrates and the screen lights up.
I see a message for my old friend and running rival, Michael. Hey, Jack,
don't forget about the race this week, and I can't
wait to beat you like always. The text preview reads,
the scoff out loud. Of course I didn't forget. This
(01:52):
is my favorite race of the year, the annual Hillsbury
Fall Marathon. Nothing like running in the cool autumn breeze,
fast forests filled with yellow and amber leaves. I've been
training all year for this race, You'd say I've been
training my whole life for it. As for speedy Jack,
this would be my last chance to cross that finish
(02:13):
line before everyone else, specially Michael. Little did I know
this would be the last race of my life. Roads,
rain drenched from the night before, wind and snake. As
I drive into Hillsbury Town Center from home, excited crowds
(02:34):
have a mask to watch the race, and I'm slowed
to a snail's pace through the car park looking for
a spot despite arriving early. When I find some empty
spots down the back, I get out and feel the
sting of cold air. My running attire wasn't made to
keep me warm standing still, so I quickly began limbering
up as I use the sight of my cars leverage
to do some stretches. Blue runner tape wrap tightly around
(02:58):
my knees and shins doesn't stop some pain from emerging.
As I firmly massage the surrounding muscles, I hear Michael's
car coming in the distance. He drives an obnoxiously red
sports car that matches his personality all too well. Loud
engine noises reverberate when he enters the car park trying
to impress people, and see a smug grin when he
(03:19):
parks beside me. Michael's laugh is immediate the moment he
opens his car door, and I grit my teeth in
anticipation of what stupid remarks are about to spew from
his mouth. Good stretching. See you get ready for a
second place again, jackie boy, he says. Second you're thinking
of your ambitions? I say, through a fake and bitter laugh.
(03:40):
Aren't you going to stretch, shutting his hands deep in
his pockets, moving his arms around like he's searching for something.
He pulls out a bald up hand. When he opens it,
I see a bunch of little white pills in the
center of his palm. Immediately, Michael throws one pill to
the back of his mouth before I get a chance
to ask him what it is. Oh, I need to
stretch now I have this, he mumbles. He tries to
(04:02):
swallow the pill dry. What is it this time? I asked, Oh,
you know, bitter of this bitter? That something to give
me an edge? You one? Michael offers. This is no
shock to me. I've always known that Michael takes things
before race is to give him an advantage. Anyone else
would probably report him, But to me, he's a toxic
friend that I put up with because I've run with
(04:23):
him for almost a decade, and it's easier to put
up with him than come to these things alone. No,
I don't cheat, Michael. I want my wind to be real,
I say, condescendingly real. Come on, Jack, this is in
the Olympics. No one's going to drug test. Would you
want to get your first win against me here? In
(04:43):
case you change your mind while you're looking at my
back in the race, Michael jokes as he shoves some
of the pills into my left pocket. Red anger flushes
my face because despite hating the idea of cheating, I
had the idea of him beating me again even more.
I open my mind to tell him I don't want
anything to do with these pills, before I'm interrupted by
the race announcer over a megaphone, calling for all runners
(05:06):
to head to the starting area. Ah, baby, these are
good ones. I can feel it already, Michael says excitedly
as he starts running out of the car park. I
almost can't hear him yelling just remember it's important only
to take one per hour. Be waiting for you to
finish line. He starts putting distance between us, tapping my
pocket and feeling the pills the bottom. I sigh an
(05:28):
annoyance and start running in the same direction, but I
regret not throwing them out there. And then. The starting
area is located on the main road of Hillsbury. They've
painted a big, bright, colorful square for all of us
to stand in, flanked by barricades separating the race from
the roaring fans. Looking around I start to size up
(05:49):
the competition. There are many strong looking athletes, both men
and women, maybe fifty in total, many faces I recognize
that I've beaten before, but also many new faces. That
doesn't fill me with confidence. But I take a moment
to close my eyes and focus on breathing, clearing my mind,
and preparing to give it my all. I come back
(06:11):
to reality when I hear the countdown begin over an
old buzzing megaphone, and my heart begins to beat faster.
As the announcer holds up the firing gun while everyone
assumes their starting positions, I could see Michael in my periphery, lazily,
just standing there like he has not a care in
the world. The gun fires with a thundering crack, and
(06:33):
everyone starts moving differently. I take it easy, as this
is going to be a long race, but fast enough
to overtake a handful of slower runners in front of me.
Looking ahead, I can see Michael as a couple of
places in front of me. He always starts strong and
somehow maintains this momentum the whole race. Is he really
that good? It is if the pills, I think, negatively
(06:53):
distracted by my jealous thoughts. I trip over an unseen
part of the road and stumble trying to regain my
balance on the wet ass fault. I fall and I
land hard on my knees and hands. Many runners start
to pass me as I picked myself up and fight
the pain of my newly acquired bleeding scratches. I grit
my teeth in frustration and hold back tears from forming
in my eyes as I start to push myself to
(07:14):
make up for the valuable time and positions I've lost
twenty minutes past, and I've reclaimed most of the places
I've lost at the expense of my legs. My calves
and ankles are starting to burn with a build up
of lactic acid, and I know I need to slow
down and maintain my energy, otherwise I'd burn out well
before the finish line. Counting the runners in front of
me while keeping watch of the road so I don't
(07:35):
make another mistake. I see nine ahead of me. It's
hard to not feel discouraged about being in tenth place,
but I know there's still plenty of road to go.
Michael's in second place, and I could see him turn
his head and look back for me. He gives me
another one of those smug grins when his eyes find mine,
before quickening his pace and overtaking the runner in first place.
(07:58):
In no way, I'm losing to Michael Ackin. Clouded with outrage,
I shoved my hand deep into my pocket, desperately searching
for pills I hope didn't fall out during my trip.
Without a second thought, I pull one out and shove
it in my mouth. It takes a lot of effort
to keep up with the pack and Michael. For the
next five minutes, we'llowing for the pills to kick in.
But then then I start to feel the pain in
my legs ease, my ankles feel loose, my heels bounce
(08:21):
off the pavement with a spring in my step. My
breathing becomes steadier, my heart rate slows. Wow, this is
really why Michael has won so many races. I wonder
guilt starts to set in, but I push it aside
with excitement. I feel better now than when I started,
so I increase my speed and overtake many of the
racers before me. There's this one person between myself and
(08:43):
Michael now, and I'm quickly gaining on both of them.
The second place runner dressed in all blue, starts to
slow down as they reach for a water bottle on
the sideline. We've all been running for a long time now,
and everyone's tired and dehydrated. I consider using a few
seconds to go for water, but while feeling good, I
take the opportunity to pass. Now in second place, I
can see the remaining distance between Michael and me, and
(09:04):
I know what needs to be done. Slowly gaining on Michael,
I start to feel the pain come back in my legs,
the blood from my previous wounds leak as my breathing
quickens start to sweat profusely. The loud sound of my short,
fatigued breaths reaches Michael's ears, and he turns to see
me with much surprise, look yousided to join the winner's
club shots. Michael think about responding with something annoyingly humorous,
(09:28):
but my calves painfully tight. It's starting to burn. As
I push through the pain and wipe a waterfall of
sweat from my forehead, I noticed Michael is giving it
at all to keep the lead, and he starts pulling
ahead even more, and anxious thoughts begin to flood my mind.
Is Michael really this good. Did he take another pill
during the race? He must have. There's no way he
(09:49):
could still be going at this pace. I have to
beat him. I have to do everything I can to
win this race. As he turns the bend in the
road of Hillsbury, I know the it was about thirty
minutes left in the race, and I desperately shove my
hand in my pocket again for the pills. Feeling the
last three and or without hesitation or intelligent thought, I
throw all of them to the back of my mouth
(10:11):
and take a big swallow, which makes the dry pills
stick to the side of my throat, frantically swallowing multiple
times to force them all down. This time, the pills
kick in much quicker, and I assume this must have
been what Michael did to keep ahead of everyone else. Strangely, though,
I notice Michael starts to slow down, and I finally
take the opportunity to pull up alongside him. His face
(10:31):
is stunned when he notices me smiling and running with ease.
See at the finish line, I say, extatically. My feet
smash the pavement with determination I've never felt before. I
can already picture myself crossing the finish line, and now
nothing is going to stop me. My thoughts are disrupted
when I hear Michael shouting from MI mind, What the
hell did you do? You take more than one jack?
That's not safe? But I can't wipe the smile from
(10:54):
my face. This is my time to win. I take
in the surrounding beauty of hills, bear leaf covered forest
floors saturated with colors of marrigold tangerine, sounds of a
nearby stream slowly flood by, and the trees sway and
groan in the wind. Now that it's not drowned out
by the roaring sound of stampeding footsteps around me. All
(11:15):
of a sudden, I feel an agonizing stabbing pain and
hear a loud crack from my left leg. I look
down and noticed something very strange. My legs are a
deep shade of bluish purple. My veins are bulging out,
and I can see the blood pulsing through them. Reaching
down to feel my calves, I'm shocked. There's solid as
a rock. The sharp stabbing pain returns. My run briefly
(11:38):
turns to a skit before regaining my balance and continuing.
This is the side effect of the pills. I start
to worry I can't lose, not when I'm this close.
I shake the thought I can worry about my legs.
After I win, the road in front of me crests
and I can see the finish line on the horizon.
I quickly glanced behind me to see Michael far back
but still within passing distance of I falter again, and
(12:00):
he notices me looking and tries to flag me down
with a worried look on his face. I ignore him,
as he's probably just trying to slow me down to
catch up. I give every bit of energy I have
while I still can. This doesn't last long, though, As
the pills effects start to diminish rapidly, my breathing quickens.
My legs are now furiously burning. The sweat from my
forehead is pouring down over my eyebrows, and I could
(12:22):
barely see as it trickles over my eyes. The noises
of the forest are now drowned out by my heavy
breathing and the pounding rhythm of my heart beat. I
never felt this exhausted in any race previously, but I assume.
I assume it's because I've never been able to run
this hard before. The finish line is growing, and I
can see now the crowd cheering from the sidelines, faces
filled with smiles, hands shaking, handwritten poster boards to celebrate
(12:47):
their family and friends achievements. The pain is unbearable now.
I continue to wipe a massive sweat from my eyes
so I can examine my legs. I'm filled with dread
to see they're now a mixture of inky black and
deep crimson. A sharp pain shoots up from my feet
to my thighs with every step. I consider slowing down
for a second, but my knees, my knees won't take
(13:08):
any more racist. I've never had this opportunity, so I
have to win. The crowd's eyes are fixated on me
as I enter the last one hundred meters into the
finish area. Most are cheering loudly in summer, even taking photos.
I put my arms up in the air, ready to
be the first runner to burst through the finish ripon
and finally receive that gold medal I've worked so hard for.
(13:28):
The picture of the crowd cheering suddenly changes. I look
around and I see a sea of happy faces. They've
been replaced by a look of horror and disgust. Screens
start to increase as more and more of the crowd
begin noticing something about me, and I look down to
see what everyone is now pointing at. It takes me
a while to recognize what I'm looking at, and even
(13:50):
when my brain finally puts the sight into conscious thoughts,
I struggle to comprehend it. Most of my legs are gone,
my calves have exploded. My leg mass is now being
dragged behind me in ribbons of tentons. Pools of blood
(14:11):
erupted from my shoes and make a disgusting squelching sound
with every step I take. Without enough muscle to support
my left shin bone, it gives way and snaps so
loud it startles some of the crowd from screaming. I
don't have the time over the warrior look behind me
to notice where my foot has been left. Parents cover
their children's faces as I stab my shin bone into
(14:32):
the ground to support my weight and travel the remaining distance,
fighting through my tears and the excruciating pain. I still
have my arms in the air as I hobble through
the finish banner while leaving a bloody trail. The blood
loss sends my head into a woozy state, and the
screams blur into the sound that I embrace his cheers again.
A smile forms on my pale face, and I use
(14:54):
all my strength to remain standing on my grotesque stumps. Winning.
He's winning. I say, hey, did you like that Creepy
(15:14):
Pasta story that you heard today? I bet you did
because you'd stuck around to hear the outro. So if
you want to find more Coreby positories like this, check
out the links in the description down below lead you
over to the Creepy Pasta Collection Volume one and Volume two.
Volume one and Volume two also have a bunch of
stories from some of the best authors I've worked with
in the past fifteen years, which I think is pretty
high praising sains. This is like, what four thousand stories,
That's right, four thousand stories. Subscribe you'll see them. But yes,
(15:36):
two books available Amazon linked down below. Check them out. Also,
I want to give a huge thank you to everybody
on this list of patreons. Some of these amazing folks
are Diana kraus, Aseid System, Blake Rattler, Brandon Mendoza, Redda Crow,
tw Tuna Chicago hit Man, Corey Kenshin Crusader, Jocobo, Dakota Best,
Daniel Poulsen Don Taking Kaid Enchanted buns as to be
in Katie's Nephew Himbo, Jerry how I Am Minute, Second Time, Inger,
Girt Salstrom, Jay Curns, Jettis, Pat mcmog, Mister Marcus Splitz, Psycho,
(15:56):
mel Plant, Pis Red, Shadow Cat, Remember the Sun, Salty Surprise,
Samorrolen Lude, Simbas, Bloody Mojo Sky, Harper Smiley, the Psychotic
Sully Man, Tolly Sue, Team LAO seventy six, The Demented
Voice in your Head, the Chavez Brothers, the Judger Bros,
Tommy Walters, Vice, Roy Scorn, William Wellington, your bro Keegan
Zubub and Shadow Gardens. A huge thank you to you guys,
everybody who shows up in the description down below, and
as always, folks, Sweet dreams,
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