Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:02):
I'm not young. I'm not exactly old either, probably older
than most of you reading this, though I grew up
in a time before cell phones. The internet was a
pretty new thing. Mostly didn't have places like this to
share weird or scary stories. I wish there had been
something like that, though maybe I would have gotten some advice,
(00:25):
or at least had a better record than a spotty
memory hazed over with the alcohol and drug use of
my twenties. Honestly, I had mostly forgotten about the truth
of this incident. That is, until recently it all came
flooding back like a nightmarish wave. I think my brain
(00:45):
protected me from the trauma, buried it so deep that
it took a long time to come to the surface. No,
it's at the surface now though. Now that it's back,
I'm jumping ahead, though, so let's start at the beginning.
(01:07):
The year was nineteen ninety six. I was fourteen years
old and living in a small California town. My parents
had purchased a house in the mountains. My father had
become disenfranchised with life in the city and wanted to
go somewhere that our closest neighbor was nearly a mile away.
I can't say it made me or my sister Katie.
(01:28):
He's too terribly happy. We lost all our friends and
ended up in this small town school involved an hour
long bus ride to and from the campus. She made
new friends quickly. She was two years older than me,
pretty popular, and the kind of person that people were
drawn to. I, on the other hand, was short, awkward,
(01:53):
and quiet. It's iff iced to say I got picked
on a lot and didn't adjust super well. My father
saw it as an opportunity to toughen me up and
teach me some things about how to take care of
our new home. If you're just going to be sitting
around the house all summer long, then you might as
well learn some life stuff. And that was that. I
(02:16):
took one last look at my new PlayStation and my
copy of Resident Evil that I'd saved my allowance for,
and I was put to work. I cleaned gutters mode lawn,
helped my dad repaint the garage, and finally, the most
important task to the story, that helped him build a
(02:38):
new woodshed. I say helped, but in reality, he talked
me through it and I did the majority of labor.
I think he always wished I was more the type
to work with my hands, even though especially at that age,
I was more into drawing, writing and video games and
(02:58):
sitting in the sun and building his shed. You gotta
get you some callouses, kiddo, he would say, while slapping
my back. Builds character. Honestly, not sure if I built
any character, but I have, for damn sure built that woodshed.
Old grocery store palettes made up the flooring, but the
(03:20):
walls and roof for these huge corrugated aluminum sheets to
make sure the rain ran off and away from the woodpiles.
I cut myself so many damn times getting those sheets
in place, and looked like I had lost a fight
with a razor blade factory. Sometimes I wonder if all
the blood I spilled in that grass summoned them, like
(03:45):
I accidentally performed some ritual that I was totally unaware of.
One spill a pint of blood on your backyard lawn,
to curse profusely while putting up a woodshed, with your
dad laughing at you the whole time. Three spend every
night praying to whatever deity, well, listen, you don't have
to spend another second working in that damn shed. And
(04:09):
four sum in an unholy entity that permanently scars you
and leaves a broken mess, repressing memories for the majority
of your life. He's a pretty shit ritual if you
ask me. I'm joking, though, that has nothing to do
(04:31):
with the blood Well the shed. The shed is just
where he first appeared. I could remember that night with
more clarity than I wished to. It was the night
I finished building. I remember my dad actually telling me
I did a good job. As he inspected my work.
(04:52):
He brought me a coke with dinner, said it would
be a beer if I was a little older, and honestly,
I appreciated the gesture, and now I made him seem
like a hard ass, but the reality was he was
a good man, just very old school and his sensibilities.
(05:13):
After dinner, I went up to my room and finally
spent some time playing my game. My sister had left
for the night and she was going on her first
date with a boy that she'd met at school. Since
she was going to be out late, and my parents
agreed I'd earned it and said that I could stay
up as late as I wanted. My hands hurt and
I was exhausted, but I honestly didn't care. I felt
(05:37):
like I'd earned my time to relax and enjoy myself.
Felt good. I stayed up way too late. The clock
rolled over to one point thirty, and I finally told
myself I should get some sleep, because who knows what
chored dad had for me. The next day, after getting
ready for bed, I went to my window. I looked
(05:58):
out in my handiwork. Actually, I was pretty proud of myself,
and that's when I saw it. At first, I thought
it was my dad, But as my eyes adjusted, looking
in the dark, I realized he was far too tall,
(06:22):
far too lanky, far too pale. His clothes hung off
his thin frame, and ragged tatters bellowed in the night breeze.
He walked around the shed, sliding his hand against the
illumine wall, tink tink tink, tink, tink, tink tin, the
(06:43):
sound of his nails clicking against the bends in the metal.
Then he looked up at me. There was a shine
in his eyes, like the shine a raccoon has when
you catch it hunting through trash. His face was gaunt
and pale. Sunken cheeks made his cheekbones look like sharp daggers.
(07:08):
Jutting out of the sides of his face. His mouth
was little more than a thin line of nothing drawn
onto his low set jaw. It wriggled slightly as he
lifted his gaze onto me. I shouldn't have been able
to hear it soft whisper, yet I could very easily.
(07:29):
It rang in my ears with a pitch similar to
someone rubbing a wetted finger on a half full crystal glass.
It shuddered a manufactured weakness, like its weak looking frame
come out to or I come in. It cocked its
(07:55):
head at an unnatural angle and twisted it further and
further until it was looking at me, almost upside down.
It hummed, and the drone filled the air around me.
The floor beneath my feet vibrated at the odd frequency,
and it resonated through my legs and into my chest.
(08:15):
I tried to cry out for my parents, but I
felt paralyzed. I still don't know if I if it
did something to me, or I was just so scared
I couldn't move. I watched as it twisted its body
into a bizarre angle and skittered from the woodshed to
the side of the house. I could hear it clamoring
(08:38):
up the wall towards my window. My feet finally broke
free from their place on the ground, and I stumbled
backwards towards the door to my room. Dad Mom, I
remember saying, but I honestly can't be sure if it
was a shout or a whisper, though I would realize
it didn't really matter. The face suddenly appeared in my
(08:59):
story window. It was close enough now that I could
better make out its features. The eyes still gleamed from
the sunken place in its sockets, and the line mouth
still quivered as it hummed its awful noise. Paper thin
skin was stretched tightly across its skull that you can
(09:22):
almost make out the blood pumping in the veins of
its face. The humming stopped as its mouth stretched open
into an awful void like maw, and it clapped its
jaw together quickly and sharply, over and over again. The
snapping noise of its mouth opening and closing at high
speed sounded like a camera shutter quickly taking pictures. I
(09:46):
barely had time to think if I had locked my
window before the creature slid its bony fingers into the
crack of the window sill. And lifted it. It slided
through like liquid, and before it touched the ground, I'd
flung my bedroom door open and ran into the hallway
towards my parents. They were still asleep in their bed.
(10:11):
I ran over to my father and started shaking him,
trying to wake him up, but it was like he
was in a coma. I shook and shook, but his
eyes stayed closed and his body stayed still. I ran
around the bed to try to do the same thing
with my mother, screaming like a madman the whole time
for them to wake up. Sleep like little angels, Sleep
(10:35):
like little angels, Sleep like the dead. It stood in
my parents' doorway. It looked taller than before, and as
if it was wreathed in shadow. Its head twisted unnaturally again,
(10:56):
and it wrapped its fingers around the doorframe as if
it was about to pounce. And that's when I heard
the front door open. It was quiet, my sister trying
to sneak in after her curfew. Not quiet enough, though.
The thing spun its head around quickly, reacting to the
(11:17):
new presence in the house, and before I could react,
it was making its way to the stairs with unnatural
grace and fluidity. Its hands and feet clawed the walls,
knocking pictures down. I could hear them breaking on the ground.
I ran after it, not even sure what the hell
I was planning to do. I watched it vanish down
the stairs and heard my sister let out one of
the most terrifying screams I've ever heard from the top
(11:41):
of the stairs. I watched as the thing encircled my
sister like a constrictor, its thin fingers grabbing her throat,
squeezing to cut short that awful scream into a painful wheeze.
It opened its mouth again and made that camera shut
her clacking a few more times before I did something
I still can't even begin to fathom or properly do
(12:04):
justice with my words. It drained the life from her.
I could see it happening, her eyes wide with terror,
as her form seemed to blur, and what I could
most accurately describe as her soul being ripped from her
(12:26):
body into that horrid creature's open mouth. Her hair turned white,
her skin went pallid and gray, and so she almost
looked like the thing that was killing her. I bolted
down the stairs in an attempt to stop what I
was seeing, but was quickly flung away as it reached
an arm out and threw me backward with little to
no effort. I slammed hard against the stairway and heard
(12:48):
my legs snap. I watched, screaming in a mix of
terror and pain, as it drained every last drop of
life from my sister and left her as sunk and
wide eyed shell on the floor of our entryway. I
know I was next. It stared at me with those
(13:11):
gleaming eyes rolling in their sockets, and stretched that thin
line into a facsimile of a smile, and then it
turned away and slithered through the half open front door.
(13:32):
I was left alone, legs shattered, mind broken, staring helplessly
at my sister's lifeless body. It felt like I was
lying there for hours, soaking in the scene around me,
the pain in my leg fading to shock, and thoughts
(13:55):
racing through my mind as to why it didn't kill me.
The screams of my parents when they finally woke up
and found us, seemed like they were happening in another world,
like distant cries of pain being carried on the wind.
(14:20):
My parents never really recovered from the loss. The police
created a narrative that made sense to them. Prowler breaks
into an isolated home. The kids, myself and my sister
startled this prowler and he attacks us. My leg is
broken and my sister, my poor sister, is apparently scared
(14:45):
to death heart failure due to an acute stress response.
What kind of sixteen year old girl has heart failure
from being scared? My parents bought it, though unfortunately they
never forgave themselves for sleeping through the encounter, despite the
(15:06):
fact that the creature had obviously put them into a
comato state while he attacked us. My mother and father
separated a few years later. Shortly after that, my father
drank himself to death. My mother hasn't spoken to me
in years. She fell down her own shame spiral that
(15:28):
led her isolating herself and must to protect herself from
the pain. I, on the other hand, I just forgot
as much about the encounter as my mind willly. I
too decided the police story was easier to digest than truth,
(15:49):
and maybe it helped. Maybe I'd be a raving lunatic otherwise,
I can't say remembering all of this now has helped
my mental health at all, and that brings us to now,
and what brought back these memories in the first place.
I'm much shorter story, but one I'm hoping won't be
(16:10):
my last to tell. Three nights ago, I saw it again.
I got home from work, trying to relax watch some
television before bed, ended up falling asleep in my chair
and woke up to an infomercial playing way too loud.
I shut off the TV and checked my phone. It
(16:31):
was one thirty in the morning. In that moment, a
deep chill went down my spine. That first tinge of
memory came to me like a frigid wave. I felt
compelled to go to the window, and almost like some
unseen hand was guiding me. And I mean, I know
(16:51):
how that sounds, but it's the truth. I looked out
into the courtyard of my apartment building, expecting to see
the part arking lot in the entryway, and instead I
saw my parents' backyard, a sight I hadn't seen in
almost thirty years. The woodshed I built, and standing next
(17:21):
to it, tall gaunt man dressed in flowing rags, his
eyes shining in his head cocked at an unnatural angle.
I felt a tear ol down my cheek, flashes of
my sister's face and frozen horror burned behind my eyes,
(17:41):
and before I knew it, the thing was at my window,
peering in at me, unblinking. The window slowly opened as
I backed away. The creature slid through the crack in
that serpentine way that it had and stood before me,
(18:08):
somehow even taller than I remember. Its thin line mouth
dropped open, and it released my sister's horrifying scream from
somewhere deep down inside before it did its quick shuddering
motion sleep like the dead. It reached for me, and
(18:40):
I screamed, and then it was daylight. The creature was gone,
and seven hours it passed. I spent a long time
wondering if I was dead and just didn't realize it.
(19:01):
Maybe that would be preferable. Maybe it'd be better for
me to be trapped in that monstrosity like my sister.
At least then I wouldn't be wondering wondering when it
(19:22):
was coming back either. Kids. It's me, mister Creepasta, 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. It's a brand new year, which means
a brand new time for content. We're doing our best
to bring you the newest things. I know. In twenty
(19:44):
twenty four, I had released less videos than I ever
had any year in the last fourteen years. But hey,
as things start to piece themselves back together, so do I.
So I will be seeing you guys a bit more
in this year, I promise you always. I want to
give a very big thank you to everybody who supports
me over at Patreon patreon dot com slash mister Creepypasta.
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