May 27, 2025 • 27 mins
Listen to me, Danny. You never, ever, open that door. Do you understand me? Never. I've told you before and I'll tell you again. Under no circumstances do you go in there.
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:02):
Danny's parents told him never to go into the basement.
I was over his place the first time that he
tried to open that thick, dark oak door. I remember
we were seven at the time. I think him flashing
me that cheeky, lopsided smile before standing on his tiptoes
and straining for the handle. I remember his dad snatching
(00:23):
him away a second later and slamming him back down
next to me with a force that brought tears into
Danny's eyes. Mister Johnson was a very big man, and
although I had known him all my life, he had
always been a slight source of fear for me. As
I grew older, this infantile nervousness around him subsided a little,
but he always made me weary. Mister Johnson knelt gripping
(00:47):
Danny's shoulders. His face was red with anger, but he
also looked shaken. I noticed he was trembling almost as
much as his son. Listen to me, Danny. His voice
cut like an you never ever opened that door, do
you understand me? Never? I've told you before, and I'll
tell you again, Under no circumstances, do you go down there?
(01:12):
And then he bundled his sniveling son into a tight
hug before inviting us to come watch cartoons. Afterwards, I
had asked Danny what was behind the door. He told
me in a roundabout way that it was his basement.
He seemed only half interested in the conversation, always distracted
(01:32):
by the tinkle of an ice cream truck or an
interesting stick. Danny's zealous imagination could take anything innocuous, anything
every day, and turn it into something extraordinary. Sometimes I
thought that he could actually see the things that he
dreamt up. Danny and I had always been friends. We
were never really given a choice in the matter. Our
(01:53):
families neighbored each other directly, and our parents had known
each other since college. They just heaped the in Danny
and I together and waited for a bond to grow.
And there was a bond. In the simplest sense. We
were best friends. We were always together, in the same
class at school and the same Scout group. We even
(02:14):
ducked into and out of each other's houses like they
were connected. For me, there didn't exist a life where
Danny wasn't there to get me into trouble or to
get me out of it. Of course, we had our differences,
I was always the quiet one, good in school, rarely
to be found without my nose in a book. Indeed,
if it hadn't been for the influence of the popular
and gregarious Danny, I might well have been subject to
(02:37):
harsh teasing throughout my education. That was how our unspoken
trade off played out. Danny would vouch for me amongst
our peers, seeing that I was invited to games of
tag and birthday parties, and I would help Danny with
his schoolwork. He never had a head for sums or science,
but his weakest spot was English spelling writing, a rare
(03:01):
point of humiliation for Danny. He can never wrap his
brain around which words fit to which meaning, or which
meanings fit to which word, or what the word was
for a particular meeting, etc. Et cetera, et cetera. Looking back,
he was at the very least dyslexic and probably had
other conditions which meant he struggled in school. Sorry, let
(03:24):
me get to the point. Danny's parents told him never
to go into the basement, and after the first incident
meant by harsh parental discipline, he obeyed the command. Whenever
we were at his house, he would stick strictly to
his room, or the lounge or the garden. But over time,
(03:46):
as it always did, Danny's insatiable curiosity grew. His eight
year old brain feared punishment too much to try opening
that door again without intel on what lay behind him.
At Any questions directed at his parents about the contents
of the basement were either ignored or met with rebuking.
(04:08):
His parents probably rightfully realized that if Danny were going
to gain the smallest morsel of information about that room
or catch the tiniest glimpse of what lay inside, that
his wild imagination would create the other pieces of the puzzle,
causing his curiosity to become too much to bear. Danny
would often bring up the basement and conversation, presenting in
(04:31):
childish dialect his latest speculation on what could be in
there to my praising ear an alien egg, a robot clone,
a baby dragon. For my part, I was not terribly
interested in the content of my neighbour's basement. As well
as being too timid to effor aid Danny in a
break in, Danny was convinced that his parents were hiding
(04:52):
something in there, and it was precisely his parents' Cajunis
in the face of his inquisition, which strengthened his theory.
His older brother air in fifteen, only laughed when Danny
brought his theories to him and called him stupid. Then
one day something changed. That morning, when Danny came galloping
(05:19):
from his front door to join me on our walk
to school, there was a strange air about him. He
kept shooting me sideways looks and suppressed smiles, as if
he knew a secret and was bursting to tell. Of course,
knowing Danny, his lips did not remain sealed. There's a
(05:40):
man in the basement. The words came tumbling out of
his mouth in a pile, leaving him panting. They caught
me off guard. My rational brain couldn't comprehend such an
offload of information. What what do you mean? I heard
him whispering through the floor. He heard me the door.
(06:01):
Dad was at work. I opened the door and there
were the dark steps. I could see the man down there.
And wait, wait, Danny, you really saw a man in
your basement? Yeah? Yeah, I heard him whispering to the floor,
whispering for help. Okay, stop messing with me, man, No,
I swear I double triple swear.
Speaker 2 (06:23):
Only.
Speaker 1 (06:23):
This most sacred of oaths made me pause in my
denial of Danny's story. For the first time. I let
the thought cross my mind. Was it true? I began
to question him hesitantly. Slow down. What about your dad?
(06:47):
I told you he was working late. Your mom she
was home. But I couldn't just ignore it. She'd kill
you if she catches you. Man, she won't. I shut
the door afterwards, so he whispered through the floor. Yeah, okay,
he must have heard me walking around the house. It
(07:09):
was really quiet. I heard him whispering. I put my
ear to the floor near the molding floorboard, you know
where I mean. I could hear him. His voice was like,
really scratchy, like he had a cold or something. He
sounded pretty cuckoo, you know, kept repeating himself, asking for help,
over and over, mumbling about being alone in the darker
(07:30):
or something. I resigned myself reluctantly to believe. Dude, that's
that's really weird. You should tell your parents, I advised. Well,
here's the thing, cam Danny whispered, voice crackling with excitement.
(07:51):
What if they're keeping him in there? No, man, that's crazy.
What do you you remember that film Aaron showed us,
the one that Mom got mad at him about. There
was that guy, the mad sy this scientist, That's what
I was gonna say, that mad scientist. He kept those
(08:13):
two dudes in his basement all chained up. He put
that needl in him, you know, and their eyes exploded,
both of us. Paused to screw our faces up and
disgusted the memory. And then he came in with a
knife and they were screaming, and then Mom walked in
and switched it off. But what if that's what mom
(08:33):
and Dad are doing, you know, keeping him down in
the basement. I took a moment to digest this, think
about it. Cam all the facts add up. This was
a catchphrase Danny had learned off TV. Faced with Danny's
to me flawless logic, I had no choice but to agree.
(08:58):
Looking back, I find it straight, particularly on my part,
but more so on Danny's. How we were able to
establish such a mental disconnect, How we could wholeheartedly believe
that mister and missus Johnson were carrying out the actions
of a serial killer and yet harbor no ill feelings
towards them. In Danny's case, love them, our attitude towards
(09:19):
them did not change at all. Sometimes we forget how
simple the mind of a child really is, how innocent, conversely,
how easy this shudder. Danny filled me in further, explaining
how the man had been on all fours the bottom
(09:40):
of the dark steps, and how thin and bony he
had looked. Danny seemed to imply that at one point
he had made direct eye contact with a man, but
he appeared to grow slightly uncomfortable at that point, Quickly
moving on with his description of the events, he had
been able to go down those steps when he heard
his mom calling for him from upstairs. That he had
(10:00):
exited the basement, locked the door, and replaced the key
behind the toaster, where he knew his dad kept it.
Over the next week, Danny updated me regularly. He'd been
unable to find a moment where it was possible to
open the door again, but he told me that at
a few quiet moments in the evening he had whispered
to the floor to the man, and the man had
(10:22):
occasionally whispered back. He was careful not to let his
parents catch these strange conversations. Doing so would alert them
to the fact that he knew their secret. He was
always vague about the exact contents of those talks to
the floor. I took this as a way of him
guarding his secret like a serpent guards its horde of treasure.
(10:45):
But that Sunday Danny granted me access to the treasure trove.
Like most Sundays, I arrived at his house early in
the morning, ready for a day of cartoons and fort building.
But as soon as Danny had closed the door to
his back, he explained that he had a new item
on the agenda. You're gonna talk to him today. I
(11:08):
didn't have to ask who he meant. Looking back, I'm
not sure I even wanted to take part in this
eerie ritual. I'm sure I was terrified by the idea
of whispering to an unknown man underneath the floor. Danny
led me downstairs, led me over to the spot near
the moldy floorboard his communication link. He bade me kneel down,
(11:29):
put my ear to the floor, and speak. As it was,
I only had to listen. No sooner did my ear
touch the floor than I was assailed by a strange sound,
almost like a stormy wind or nails on a blackboard,
straining my hearing, I couldn't make out sounds, and then words,
(11:56):
and then sentences. My brain came to terms with the
fact that it was all true. There really was a man,
this man mere meters below me. I jumped up with
a start, heart suddenly racing, sending Danny into fits of giggles.
(12:16):
But I wasn't laughing. There was something altogether not right
about what was happening. My young mind couldn't place it exactly,
but it had something to do with that awful, rasping voice. Slowly,
this time, I dipped my head again, this time paying
attention to what was being whispered to me.
Speaker 2 (12:39):
Hey, hey, he's still there. Help me, please, kid, you
gotta help me. There's nothing down here but the shadows,
shadows all around. Help me, help me, help me help. Oh,
(13:07):
whoa oh.
Speaker 1 (13:12):
This frantic repetition did not come with a rise in
pitch or even a waiver in tone or consistency. The
speaker spat the words out at a ferocious rate, concentrating
only on clarity and speed. They whispered as someone who
would learn they must whisper regardless of how much they
want to scream. Slowly, as I listened to the repetition,
(13:34):
the begging for aid. I detected a rising urgency.
Speaker 2 (13:38):
No, it was it.
Speaker 1 (13:43):
Anger, Yeah, it was discernible now, a clear and growing
hate behind the words, little shit. I'm begging you, please, please,
I'm fucking begging you come down here and help me.
What are you doing?
Speaker 2 (14:00):
What are you doing? Help me? Help me?
Speaker 1 (14:04):
And then as I listened and petrified, silence, not breathing,
and just listening, he began to say other things. I'm
not going to put them down here. I haven't spent
twenty years in therapy trying to burn them from my
mind to put them down here. But just know that
from what he said and how he said it, all
(14:26):
I could think was that this man, this wretched thing
below me, was the most desperate person I'd ever come
into contact with. To prostrate himself like that, to abase himself,
to make himself a little better than an animal. It
made me think that he was absolutely terrified out of
his mind. I had heard enough. I turned my head
(14:50):
away from that crack on the floor, and I made
my mistake. I looked down, because only for a second,
A second was all it took. I saw his eye
in the dark crack. I saw what I first thought
to be a fat cockroach or a bulging woodlouse, some
(15:11):
kind of rotund insect, bulbous and chattering. Then the ruptured,
dirty brown shell like eyelid opened, Time slowed down, the
red tinted pupil frantically flitting, resting on me. The eye
(15:33):
was milky white, with collections of dank yellow goop collecting
in the corner's veins, bulging across its surface, giving the
impression that it was just about to burst. I couldn't
look away. I felt like that blighted eye was staring
straight into my soul, like a madman, a wild thing.
(15:55):
I fell back, let out a cry of fear. I
pushed past Danny, running for the door, tears streaming down
my cheeks. I didn't stop until I was under the
covers of my own bed, croaking sobs echoing into my pillow.
I wouldn't tell my parents what was wrong. Looking back,
(16:17):
I wish I had. After a while, guilt and boredom
conquered my fear, and I returned to Danny's house. He
let me in, sheepishly, treading on eggshells around me. Unsure
of what had caused my reaction, I found my outburst
to be humiliating, and resolved myself to pretend nothing had happened. Yet,
(16:41):
I still refused to look over at that door or
the spot on the floor where that voice had whispered
to me that evening. Shortly before I returned to my
own home for supper, Danny and I sat on his
bed talking.
Speaker 2 (16:58):
What are you going to do?
Speaker 1 (17:00):
I asked him, what do you mean? I mean, what
are you going to do about him? A brief moment
of hesitation, remembering that horrible eye emerging from the dark. Well,
I'm gee, man, I don't know what do you mean?
(17:26):
You're really gonna let your parents just keep him down there?
He doesn't sound like he's having fun. You're right, Danny's
eyes gleamed. Ah, I should rescue him. No, no, Danny.
I meant like, tell missus Carter or somebody. But Danny
was far away, imagining himself playing the part of the hero,
(17:48):
crowds thanking him the president, meeting him all the chocolate
he could eat. I realized forlornly that he would not
be persuaded. I'm gonna get him out. Uh, I don't
think that's such a good idea. What about your parents? Danny,
if they catch you, they won't catch me. I'm quick
(18:09):
and I've opened the door before. Remember. Besides, Danny attempted
a macho persona. What are they gonna do? Ground me?
No cartoons for a week, he scoffed. Where before punishment
had been enough of a threat to determine, it was
now useless. Danny had too much to gain. No Danny,
(18:34):
I attempted to put into words a concept my young
mind could not fully realize, something unpleasant, A darkness hatching
at the back of my brain, something beyond being grounded,
something beyond the simplistic idea that a parent loves you
no matter what. I also think that I didn't believe,
(18:56):
in my heart of hearts that mister and missus Johnson
were truly capable of holding someone in their basement against
his will. They were truly capable of hurting Danny. My
warning came out is vague and feeble. I think that
(19:17):
if they catch you, they're going to be something really bad.
But Danny wasn't listening. He explained to me how that night,
after his parents had gone to bed, he would sneak downstairs,
grab the key from its hiding place behind the toaster,
(19:38):
unlock the door, go down those dark, dark steps, and
bring the man in his basement into the light. He
said that he would be careful, and if you heard
his parents coming, he would just lock the door and hide.
As I left that evening, he told me that he
(20:00):
would tell me all about his excapade the next morning,
looking back and marvel at how we could have possibly
thought our daily routine would just be the same. That night,
I was racked with fear. Not the same fear that
(20:22):
I had felt after seeing that eye that was short
and sharp, painful like an electric shock. This fear was
far worse. It was slow and creeping, slithering around in
the pit of my stomach, strangling me. I didn't touch
my food. I was sent to bed early. My parents
(20:45):
thought I was ill. Danny's parents told him to never
go into the basement, and the next day Danny was gone.
(21:10):
I waited for some time on the sidewalk outside of
his house, praying to see that cheeky, lopsided grinned, but
he never came. Eventually, Missus Johnson saw me through the
front window and came out. Is Danny sick? I asked.
I already knew, though, what was coming. No, we thought
(21:32):
he'd gone to yours. A look of fear spread over
Missus Johnson's face, and the nightmare began. Over the next
three months, I got accustomed to seeing the flashing lights
of police cars and seeing cops coming and going to
(21:53):
the Johnson home. At first, the Johnson's were panicked. There
was no sign of a break in. The front door
was still locked, and the neighborhood was so friendly everyone
knew each other. There was absolutely nothing which could explain
Danny's disappearance. If I remember, after the first week, adults
began talking in hush tones around me. That must have
(22:13):
been when they made the development in the case. On
the third day, the story made it onto the local news,
the Johnsons were interviewed outside their home. In a short time,
their initial panic had faded to anguish and despair. Least
(22:33):
from the outside. Only I knew the truth. Danny had
been caught, His parents had done something horrible to him.
If I had been afraid of mister Johnson before, I
couldn't be in the same room with him now. I
tried to tell anyone who would listen of my secret insight,
(22:54):
but nobody would pay at any notice. Indeed, I was
scolded by my parents for being insensitive and inappropriate. Over
the years, I stopped trying to convince people My pain
just became a numb Danny shaped hole. But I never forgot.
(23:18):
When I was older, probably around thirteen, my mother decided
it was time for me to know the truth of
the case. But they had found at the end of
the first week, she explained that Danny's house didn't have
a basement. Behind that thick, dark oak door, there was
(23:41):
an old, unused supply closet. His parents told Danny to
never ever go in there because they stored bleach and
other harmful chemicals inside. Danny had never been told he
was a basement that was pure speculation, become fat a
product of his troubles with words and his overactive imagination.
(24:06):
Inside that closet, behind the mops and boxes of clutter,
the police found a hole. The bricks and planks of
one corner ripped away, and in that hole there was
a dark, dark flight of stairs formed from rubble and
broken stones. The dark, dark steps led down into the
(24:27):
large sewage tunnel directly beneath the Johnson's house, and in
the sewage tunnel they found many things a used mattress,
a kitchen knife, and the opening that had been made
(24:52):
in the top of the tunnel, a chair which had
been used to reach the floorboards of Danny's living room
to whisper through. There was writing on the wall, scribblings
about shadows and being alone in the dark. Danny hadn't
(25:13):
been caught. Unfortunately for him, he had made it down there.
The police searched the local sewage network and its reservoirs, nothing,
but eventually they found the last clue they would ever find,
several miles away in an old, decrepit storm drain. Danny's watch,
(25:47):
half submerged in the mud and slime, and a single
bloody handprint made by a small hand against the wall
of the drain, elongated along its length, where someone had
fought desperately to not be dragged away.
Speaker 2 (26:08):
That was wrong.
Speaker 1 (26:13):
The voice I heard under the floor that day wasn't
the voice of a man filled with terror. It was
the voice of a man who was utterly, utterly deranged.
Speaker 3 (26:36):
Either kids, it's me, mister creep Pasta, and I just
wanted to tell you thank you so much for watching
tonight's video or for listening to tonight's episode of the
podcast once again. My book is available on Amazon. It
is Creepypasta Collections, Volume one and Volume two. They're always
available if you guys want to check those out. Some
of my favorite authors that I've worked with over my
career are published in this book.
Speaker 1 (26:56):
I've curated all of it as well as.
Speaker 3 (26:58):
Written the forward.
Speaker 1 (26:59):
I hope you guys enjoy it.
Speaker 3 (27:00):
Check it out. It's in the link in the description
down below if you ever want to find out more.
And as always, I want to give a very big
thank you to everybody who supports me over at patreons
patreon dot com slash mister Creepypasta.
Speaker 1 (27:09):
I cannot thank you guys enough. Thank you guys so
much for being supporters.
Speaker 3 (27:13):
That goes for everybody who is down in the description
as well as Acid System, Ball Arms is the Rat, Blake, Rattler,
Brandon and Mendoza, Renda Crow, Brimstone, Pannemonium, Caltuna, Shamesmoker Dealer,
Chicago hit Man, Corey, Ennschen crown Up, five Away, Crusader,
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Don't take Ki kaid Dinah Kraus Ellie Hopmyer and Chanted Buns,
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Jay Keams, Jettis, Pat Jordan, humble Kin Krab, Mister Marcus Splitz,
(27:35):
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Harper Smiley, a psychotic Sully Man, Tully Sue, the shape
Is Brothers. Thank you guys so much for being here,
thank you for listening, thank you for watching.
Speaker 1 (27:48):
In Sweet Dreams
Danny's parents told him never to go into the basement.
I was over his place the first time that he
tried to open that thick, dark oak door. I remember
we were seven at the time. I think him flashing
me that cheeky, lopsided smile before standing on his tiptoes
and straining for the handle. I remember his dad snatching
(00:23):
him away a second later and slamming him back down
next to me with a force that brought tears into
Danny's eyes. Mister Johnson was a very big man, and
although I had known him all my life, he had
always been a slight source of fear for me. As
I grew older, this infantile nervousness around him subsided a little,
but he always made me weary. Mister Johnson knelt gripping
(00:47):
Danny's shoulders. His face was red with anger, but he
also looked shaken. I noticed he was trembling almost as
much as his son. Listen to me, Danny. His voice
cut like an you never ever opened that door, do
you understand me? Never? I've told you before, and I'll
tell you again, Under no circumstances, do you go down there?
(01:12):
And then he bundled his sniveling son into a tight
hug before inviting us to come watch cartoons. Afterwards, I
had asked Danny what was behind the door. He told
me in a roundabout way that it was his basement.
He seemed only half interested in the conversation, always distracted
(01:32):
by the tinkle of an ice cream truck or an
interesting stick. Danny's zealous imagination could take anything innocuous, anything
every day, and turn it into something extraordinary. Sometimes I
thought that he could actually see the things that he
dreamt up. Danny and I had always been friends. We
were never really given a choice in the matter. Our
(01:53):
families neighbored each other directly, and our parents had known
each other since college. They just heaped the in Danny
and I together and waited for a bond to grow.
And there was a bond. In the simplest sense. We
were best friends. We were always together, in the same
class at school and the same Scout group. We even
(02:14):
ducked into and out of each other's houses like they
were connected. For me, there didn't exist a life where
Danny wasn't there to get me into trouble or to
get me out of it. Of course, we had our differences,
I was always the quiet one, good in school, rarely
to be found without my nose in a book. Indeed,
if it hadn't been for the influence of the popular
and gregarious Danny, I might well have been subject to
(02:37):
harsh teasing throughout my education. That was how our unspoken
trade off played out. Danny would vouch for me amongst
our peers, seeing that I was invited to games of
tag and birthday parties, and I would help Danny with
his schoolwork. He never had a head for sums or science,
but his weakest spot was English spelling writing, a rare
(03:01):
point of humiliation for Danny. He can never wrap his
brain around which words fit to which meaning, or which
meanings fit to which word, or what the word was
for a particular meeting, etc. Et cetera, et cetera. Looking back,
he was at the very least dyslexic and probably had
other conditions which meant he struggled in school. Sorry, let
(03:24):
me get to the point. Danny's parents told him never
to go into the basement, and after the first incident
meant by harsh parental discipline, he obeyed the command. Whenever
we were at his house, he would stick strictly to
his room, or the lounge or the garden. But over time,
(03:46):
as it always did, Danny's insatiable curiosity grew. His eight
year old brain feared punishment too much to try opening
that door again without intel on what lay behind him.
At Any questions directed at his parents about the contents
of the basement were either ignored or met with rebuking.
(04:08):
His parents probably rightfully realized that if Danny were going
to gain the smallest morsel of information about that room
or catch the tiniest glimpse of what lay inside, that
his wild imagination would create the other pieces of the puzzle,
causing his curiosity to become too much to bear. Danny
would often bring up the basement and conversation, presenting in
(04:31):
childish dialect his latest speculation on what could be in
there to my praising ear an alien egg, a robot clone,
a baby dragon. For my part, I was not terribly
interested in the content of my neighbour's basement. As well
as being too timid to effor aid Danny in a
break in, Danny was convinced that his parents were hiding
(04:52):
something in there, and it was precisely his parents' Cajunis
in the face of his inquisition, which strengthened his theory.
His older brother air in fifteen, only laughed when Danny
brought his theories to him and called him stupid. Then
one day something changed. That morning, when Danny came galloping
(05:19):
from his front door to join me on our walk
to school, there was a strange air about him. He
kept shooting me sideways looks and suppressed smiles, as if
he knew a secret and was bursting to tell. Of course,
knowing Danny, his lips did not remain sealed. There's a
(05:40):
man in the basement. The words came tumbling out of
his mouth in a pile, leaving him panting. They caught
me off guard. My rational brain couldn't comprehend such an
offload of information. What what do you mean? I heard
him whispering through the floor. He heard me the door.
(06:01):
Dad was at work. I opened the door and there
were the dark steps. I could see the man down there.
And wait, wait, Danny, you really saw a man in
your basement? Yeah? Yeah, I heard him whispering to the floor,
whispering for help. Okay, stop messing with me, man, No,
I swear I double triple swear.
Speaker 2 (06:23):
Only.
Speaker 1 (06:23):
This most sacred of oaths made me pause in my
denial of Danny's story. For the first time. I let
the thought cross my mind. Was it true? I began
to question him hesitantly. Slow down. What about your dad?
(06:47):
I told you he was working late. Your mom she
was home. But I couldn't just ignore it. She'd kill
you if she catches you. Man, she won't. I shut
the door afterwards, so he whispered through the floor. Yeah, okay,
he must have heard me walking around the house. It
(07:09):
was really quiet. I heard him whispering. I put my
ear to the floor near the molding floorboard, you know
where I mean. I could hear him. His voice was like,
really scratchy, like he had a cold or something. He
sounded pretty cuckoo, you know, kept repeating himself, asking for help,
over and over, mumbling about being alone in the darker
(07:30):
or something. I resigned myself reluctantly to believe. Dude, that's
that's really weird. You should tell your parents, I advised. Well,
here's the thing, cam Danny whispered, voice crackling with excitement.
(07:51):
What if they're keeping him in there? No, man, that's crazy.
What do you you remember that film Aaron showed us,
the one that Mom got mad at him about. There
was that guy, the mad sy this scientist, That's what
I was gonna say, that mad scientist. He kept those
(08:13):
two dudes in his basement all chained up. He put
that needl in him, you know, and their eyes exploded,
both of us. Paused to screw our faces up and
disgusted the memory. And then he came in with a
knife and they were screaming, and then Mom walked in
and switched it off. But what if that's what mom
(08:33):
and Dad are doing, you know, keeping him down in
the basement. I took a moment to digest this, think
about it. Cam all the facts add up. This was
a catchphrase Danny had learned off TV. Faced with Danny's
to me flawless logic, I had no choice but to agree.
(08:58):
Looking back, I find it straight, particularly on my part,
but more so on Danny's. How we were able to
establish such a mental disconnect, How we could wholeheartedly believe
that mister and missus Johnson were carrying out the actions
of a serial killer and yet harbor no ill feelings
towards them. In Danny's case, love them, our attitude towards
(09:19):
them did not change at all. Sometimes we forget how
simple the mind of a child really is, how innocent, conversely,
how easy this shudder. Danny filled me in further, explaining
how the man had been on all fours the bottom
(09:40):
of the dark steps, and how thin and bony he
had looked. Danny seemed to imply that at one point
he had made direct eye contact with a man, but
he appeared to grow slightly uncomfortable at that point, Quickly
moving on with his description of the events, he had
been able to go down those steps when he heard
his mom calling for him from upstairs. That he had
(10:00):
exited the basement, locked the door, and replaced the key
behind the toaster, where he knew his dad kept it.
Over the next week, Danny updated me regularly. He'd been
unable to find a moment where it was possible to
open the door again, but he told me that at
a few quiet moments in the evening he had whispered
to the floor to the man, and the man had
(10:22):
occasionally whispered back. He was careful not to let his
parents catch these strange conversations. Doing so would alert them
to the fact that he knew their secret. He was
always vague about the exact contents of those talks to
the floor. I took this as a way of him
guarding his secret like a serpent guards its horde of treasure.
(10:45):
But that Sunday Danny granted me access to the treasure trove.
Like most Sundays, I arrived at his house early in
the morning, ready for a day of cartoons and fort building.
But as soon as Danny had closed the door to
his back, he explained that he had a new item
on the agenda. You're gonna talk to him today. I
(11:08):
didn't have to ask who he meant. Looking back, I'm
not sure I even wanted to take part in this
eerie ritual. I'm sure I was terrified by the idea
of whispering to an unknown man underneath the floor. Danny
led me downstairs, led me over to the spot near
the moldy floorboard his communication link. He bade me kneel down,
(11:29):
put my ear to the floor, and speak. As it was,
I only had to listen. No sooner did my ear
touch the floor than I was assailed by a strange sound,
almost like a stormy wind or nails on a blackboard,
straining my hearing, I couldn't make out sounds, and then words,
(11:56):
and then sentences. My brain came to terms with the
fact that it was all true. There really was a man,
this man mere meters below me. I jumped up with
a start, heart suddenly racing, sending Danny into fits of giggles.
(12:16):
But I wasn't laughing. There was something altogether not right
about what was happening. My young mind couldn't place it exactly,
but it had something to do with that awful, rasping voice. Slowly,
this time, I dipped my head again, this time paying
attention to what was being whispered to me.
Speaker 2 (12:39):
Hey, hey, he's still there. Help me, please, kid, you
gotta help me. There's nothing down here but the shadows,
shadows all around. Help me, help me, help me help. Oh,
(13:07):
whoa oh.
Speaker 1 (13:12):
This frantic repetition did not come with a rise in
pitch or even a waiver in tone or consistency. The
speaker spat the words out at a ferocious rate, concentrating
only on clarity and speed. They whispered as someone who
would learn they must whisper regardless of how much they
want to scream. Slowly, as I listened to the repetition,
(13:34):
the begging for aid. I detected a rising urgency.
Speaker 2 (13:38):
No, it was it.
Speaker 1 (13:43):
Anger, Yeah, it was discernible now, a clear and growing
hate behind the words, little shit. I'm begging you, please, please,
I'm fucking begging you come down here and help me.
What are you doing?
Speaker 2 (14:00):
What are you doing? Help me? Help me?
Speaker 1 (14:04):
And then as I listened and petrified, silence, not breathing,
and just listening, he began to say other things. I'm
not going to put them down here. I haven't spent
twenty years in therapy trying to burn them from my
mind to put them down here. But just know that
from what he said and how he said it, all
(14:26):
I could think was that this man, this wretched thing
below me, was the most desperate person I'd ever come
into contact with. To prostrate himself like that, to abase himself,
to make himself a little better than an animal. It
made me think that he was absolutely terrified out of
his mind. I had heard enough. I turned my head
(14:50):
away from that crack on the floor, and I made
my mistake. I looked down, because only for a second,
A second was all it took. I saw his eye
in the dark crack. I saw what I first thought
to be a fat cockroach or a bulging woodlouse, some
(15:11):
kind of rotund insect, bulbous and chattering. Then the ruptured,
dirty brown shell like eyelid opened, Time slowed down, the
red tinted pupil frantically flitting, resting on me. The eye
(15:33):
was milky white, with collections of dank yellow goop collecting
in the corner's veins, bulging across its surface, giving the
impression that it was just about to burst. I couldn't
look away. I felt like that blighted eye was staring
straight into my soul, like a madman, a wild thing.
(15:55):
I fell back, let out a cry of fear. I
pushed past Danny, running for the door, tears streaming down
my cheeks. I didn't stop until I was under the
covers of my own bed, croaking sobs echoing into my pillow.
I wouldn't tell my parents what was wrong. Looking back,
(16:17):
I wish I had. After a while, guilt and boredom
conquered my fear, and I returned to Danny's house. He
let me in, sheepishly, treading on eggshells around me. Unsure
of what had caused my reaction, I found my outburst
to be humiliating, and resolved myself to pretend nothing had happened. Yet,
(16:41):
I still refused to look over at that door or
the spot on the floor where that voice had whispered
to me that evening. Shortly before I returned to my
own home for supper, Danny and I sat on his
bed talking.
Speaker 2 (16:58):
What are you going to do?
Speaker 1 (17:00):
I asked him, what do you mean? I mean, what
are you going to do about him? A brief moment
of hesitation, remembering that horrible eye emerging from the dark. Well,
I'm gee, man, I don't know what do you mean?
(17:26):
You're really gonna let your parents just keep him down there?
He doesn't sound like he's having fun. You're right, Danny's
eyes gleamed. Ah, I should rescue him. No, no, Danny.
I meant like, tell missus Carter or somebody. But Danny
was far away, imagining himself playing the part of the hero,
(17:48):
crowds thanking him the president, meeting him all the chocolate
he could eat. I realized forlornly that he would not
be persuaded. I'm gonna get him out. Uh, I don't
think that's such a good idea. What about your parents? Danny,
if they catch you, they won't catch me. I'm quick
(18:09):
and I've opened the door before. Remember. Besides, Danny attempted
a macho persona. What are they gonna do? Ground me?
No cartoons for a week, he scoffed. Where before punishment
had been enough of a threat to determine, it was
now useless. Danny had too much to gain. No Danny,
(18:34):
I attempted to put into words a concept my young
mind could not fully realize, something unpleasant, A darkness hatching
at the back of my brain, something beyond being grounded,
something beyond the simplistic idea that a parent loves you
no matter what. I also think that I didn't believe,
(18:56):
in my heart of hearts that mister and missus Johnson
were truly capable of holding someone in their basement against
his will. They were truly capable of hurting Danny. My
warning came out is vague and feeble. I think that
(19:17):
if they catch you, they're going to be something really bad.
But Danny wasn't listening. He explained to me how that night,
after his parents had gone to bed, he would sneak downstairs,
grab the key from its hiding place behind the toaster,
(19:38):
unlock the door, go down those dark, dark steps, and
bring the man in his basement into the light. He
said that he would be careful, and if you heard
his parents coming, he would just lock the door and hide.
As I left that evening, he told me that he
(20:00):
would tell me all about his excapade the next morning,
looking back and marvel at how we could have possibly
thought our daily routine would just be the same. That night,
I was racked with fear. Not the same fear that
(20:22):
I had felt after seeing that eye that was short
and sharp, painful like an electric shock. This fear was
far worse. It was slow and creeping, slithering around in
the pit of my stomach, strangling me. I didn't touch
my food. I was sent to bed early. My parents
(20:45):
thought I was ill. Danny's parents told him to never
go into the basement, and the next day Danny was gone.
(21:10):
I waited for some time on the sidewalk outside of
his house, praying to see that cheeky, lopsided grinned, but
he never came. Eventually, Missus Johnson saw me through the
front window and came out. Is Danny sick? I asked.
I already knew, though, what was coming. No, we thought
(21:32):
he'd gone to yours. A look of fear spread over
Missus Johnson's face, and the nightmare began. Over the next
three months, I got accustomed to seeing the flashing lights
of police cars and seeing cops coming and going to
(21:53):
the Johnson home. At first, the Johnson's were panicked. There
was no sign of a break in. The front door
was still locked, and the neighborhood was so friendly everyone
knew each other. There was absolutely nothing which could explain
Danny's disappearance. If I remember, after the first week, adults
began talking in hush tones around me. That must have
(22:13):
been when they made the development in the case. On
the third day, the story made it onto the local news,
the Johnsons were interviewed outside their home. In a short time,
their initial panic had faded to anguish and despair. Least
(22:33):
from the outside. Only I knew the truth. Danny had
been caught, His parents had done something horrible to him.
If I had been afraid of mister Johnson before, I
couldn't be in the same room with him now. I
tried to tell anyone who would listen of my secret insight,
(22:54):
but nobody would pay at any notice. Indeed, I was
scolded by my parents for being insensitive and inappropriate. Over
the years, I stopped trying to convince people My pain
just became a numb Danny shaped hole. But I never forgot.
(23:18):
When I was older, probably around thirteen, my mother decided
it was time for me to know the truth of
the case. But they had found at the end of
the first week, she explained that Danny's house didn't have
a basement. Behind that thick, dark oak door, there was
(23:41):
an old, unused supply closet. His parents told Danny to
never ever go in there because they stored bleach and
other harmful chemicals inside. Danny had never been told he
was a basement that was pure speculation, become fat a
product of his troubles with words and his overactive imagination.
(24:06):
Inside that closet, behind the mops and boxes of clutter,
the police found a hole. The bricks and planks of
one corner ripped away, and in that hole there was
a dark, dark flight of stairs formed from rubble and
broken stones. The dark, dark steps led down into the
(24:27):
large sewage tunnel directly beneath the Johnson's house, and in
the sewage tunnel they found many things a used mattress,
a kitchen knife, and the opening that had been made
(24:52):
in the top of the tunnel, a chair which had
been used to reach the floorboards of Danny's living room
to whisper through. There was writing on the wall, scribblings
about shadows and being alone in the dark. Danny hadn't
(25:13):
been caught. Unfortunately for him, he had made it down there.
The police searched the local sewage network and its reservoirs, nothing,
but eventually they found the last clue they would ever find,
several miles away in an old, decrepit storm drain. Danny's watch,
(25:47):
half submerged in the mud and slime, and a single
bloody handprint made by a small hand against the wall
of the drain, elongated along its length, where someone had
fought desperately to not be dragged away.
Speaker 2 (26:08):
That was wrong.
Speaker 1 (26:13):
The voice I heard under the floor that day wasn't
the voice of a man filled with terror. It was
the voice of a man who was utterly, utterly deranged.
Speaker 3 (26:36):
Either kids, it's me, mister creep Pasta, and I just
wanted to tell you thank you so much for watching
tonight's video or for listening to tonight's episode of the
podcast once again. My book is available on Amazon. It
is Creepypasta Collections, Volume one and Volume two. They're always
available if you guys want to check those out. Some
of my favorite authors that I've worked with over my
career are published in this book.
Speaker 1 (26:56):
I've curated all of it as well as.
Speaker 3 (26:58):
Written the forward.
Speaker 1 (26:59):
I hope you guys enjoy it.
Speaker 3 (27:00):
Check it out. It's in the link in the description
down below if you ever want to find out more.
And as always, I want to give a very big
thank you to everybody who supports me over at patreons
patreon dot com slash mister Creepypasta.
Speaker 1 (27:09):
I cannot thank you guys enough. Thank you guys so
much for being supporters.
Speaker 3 (27:13):
That goes for everybody who is down in the description
as well as Acid System, Ball Arms is the Rat, Blake, Rattler,
Brandon and Mendoza, Renda Crow, Brimstone, Pannemonium, Caltuna, Shamesmoker Dealer,
Chicago hit Man, Corey, Ennschen crown Up, five Away, Crusader,
joke about curs Pock's Primark to go to Best, Thanka Polson,
Don't take Ki kaid Dinah Kraus Ellie Hopmyer and Chanted Buns,
Esteban Jellafalsey Hay, his nephew, Himbo Jerry. However, minute second time,
Jay Keams, Jettis, Pat Jordan, humble Kin Krab, Mister Marcus Splitz,
(27:35):
Old Penguin, Peaceful Buddhah Csycomel Red Shadow Cat, Remember the Sun,
Rinku Star Salty Surprise, Samara line, Seclude Simba's buddy Mojo, Sky,
Harper Smiley, a psychotic Sully Man, Tully Sue, the shape
Is Brothers. Thank you guys so much for being here,
thank you for listening, thank you for watching.
Speaker 1 (27:48):
In Sweet Dreams
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