CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "A bird in the backyard is building a nest out of the strangest things" Creepypasta

Episode Date: June 4, 2021

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by Rick_the_Intern: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comm...Creepypastas are the campfire tales of the internet. Horror stories spread through Reddit r/nosleep, forums and blogs, rather than word of mouth. Whether you believe these scary stories to be true or not is left to your own discretion and imagination. LISTEN TO CREEPYPASTAS ON THE GO-SPOTIFY► https://open.spotify.com/show/7l0iRPd...iTUNES► https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast...CREEPY THUMBNAIL ART BY►Ching Yeh: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/eO1zwSUGGESTED CREEPYPASTA PLAYLISTS-►"Good Places to Start"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7YCb...►"Personal Favourites"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AEa2R...►"Written by me"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gX6RA...►"Long Stories"- https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list...FOLLOW ME ON-►Twitter: https://twitter.com/Creeps_McPasta►Instagram: https://instagram.com/creepsmcpasta/►Twitch: http://www.twitch.tv/creepsmcpasta►Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CreepsMcPastaCREEPYPASTA MUSIC/ SFX- ►http://bit.ly/Audionic ♪►http://bit.ly/Myuusic ♪►http://bit.ly/incompt ♪►http://bit.ly/EpidemicM ♪-This creepypasta is for entertainment purposes only-

Birds are smart. A lot of people don't give them credit for that. When we call someone bird-brained, for instance, it isn't usually a compliment. Some people are surprised when they see Aesop's classic fable, The Crow and the Pitcher, come to life. They might see it in an everyday YouTube video when a rook and its beak places stones in a container of water to raise the water level so that it can drink. It was never taught this trick by any human.

there's the Eurasian magpie that can recognise itself in a mirror, passing the mirror test of intelligence. To my knowledge, only some mammals have been able to pass the mirror test. Only some mammals and the Eurasian magpie. There are other examples, and we could probably include mimicry of voice or sound, as with the parrot. But these should suffice. I first heard it about a week ago, only about three weeks after I'd moved in. It was dusk. I was out on the porch thinking about my new job, but really thinking about how I'd have to leave Audrey and the boy so suddenly. We had a house in Nashville, but I'd lost my job at a plant up there because of the pandemic.

The bills didn't stop when the work stopped. So, first opportunity I had, I jumped on this opening at a chemical plant in this small town in northeast Alabama. I sat out on the porch with my workboots still on. heavy feet propped up on the little metal table. I was renting this cabin for next to nothing out near the woods, a nicer cabin than I deserved, not far from the chemical plant. If things went well with a new chemical plant job, we'd sell the house and move down here,

get another house from an apartment or something. To be honest, I was tired of the big city anyway. The way this bird was singing, his voice all husky, but ending on high-trolling notes, It was like it couldn't decide whether it wanted to be a crow or a robin. It would start lower and sort of end on a higher register. Then there were some other notes. I didn't know if they belonged to that same bird or something else.

I guessed it was a mockingbird type. Just going through the list of notes it had he collected. Sorta got under my skin though, because it was singing to me. I could tell he was facing me from the sound. Had to be staring at me. And, as my eyes focused, I could in fact see it on the branch of an oak tree. It was large, blank, more crowing appearance than Robin. This song's for you, it seemed to say.

I'm not worth the trouble, I said in the general direction. Save it for your bird friends. I kicked the dirt off my boots and went inside. But I heard it all through the night. It would stop for a while, then it would be back. so I turned on the TV, put on the office, which is Audrey's favourite show, and cranked up the volume as I finally drifted off to sleep. It was that way for the next night, only the bird seemed more insistent. My body was as limp as a scarecrow's, knocked over with half its stuffing pulled out,

but I was cognizant enough on the couch to know that at some point that bird had gotten on the back porch. Then it had to be in the back window, serenading me with its harsh, multifaceted tune. Only the glass was keeping it from getting inside. I imagined it would pick right through the window screen. When the characters on the office or whatever else I tried watch and got quiet, I swear that bird would be raising its volume, and it had a new sound it could make. It was like it wanted me to hear them all out. Some of them were like a rat or another rodent screech.

Maybe it was killing something out there. I told Mick about it the next morning on my way to work. Mick is the proprietor of the nearby corner store and gas station. Seems like this bird has it out for you, Mick said. I don't know of anything you could buy off me, other than one of them sprays. If we got one lying around. But them sprays don't work. There's always a good old-fashioned gun, which we don't carry.

at least not above the counter. He left. You got a gun? I don't want to kill it, I said. You wouldn't need to kill it, Mick said. It probably won't be back anyway, I said. Mick grinned, his big cheat stimpling. Told myself the same about a woodpecker of mine,

until it turned into an everyday occurrence. It had come along and bang at the side of my house, like there weren't any trees with sweeter grub. Sounded like a construction crew going to work in my house. sprays and aluminium foil wouldn't phase up with pecker so then I moved onto a gun but I didn't have to kill it just scared it maybe he clipped his wings a little

you could uh... borrow one of my guns if you want nah I said it's okay it was only a couple of nights after all you gotta be careful out there at the chemical plant Mick said as he rang at my beef jerky in sports drink he sighed as if he was coming from personal experience Can't afford to go on too little sleep

Might be a small town But that plant is massive It's a big plant all right I said And it was There's that joke expression So big it has his own zip code But I honestly think that the chemical plant did

It was laid out on the kind of land You measured in miles instead of acres Roads went through building complex After building complex probably had more parking lots than some amusement parks and universities. Most of the buildings were blocky, rectangular, resembling shipping containers on a massive scale, gaudy orange bands over grey and black, a culture of vending machines, caution signs, chemical diamonds, and bulky-suited, hard-hatted PPE, pulsing hoses, coils that ended up god knows where,

and the throwing machinery that beat like the flow of blood through a body. people constantly shouting to be heard over that and the earplugs, behemoth doorways. I had worked for a while at a chemical plant in Nashville, a much larger city, but this plant could eat the other and barely notice it. And because it was surrounded by woods, you could never really get an idea of its limit.

You just went down a wooded road for a while, and then you were there, like some giant had chewed up the heart of the forest and spit out concrete and metal in its place. concrete and metal and the bile of chemical production. A large part of my day was spent navigating the place. The other part was spent working under the chemical operator. Going over safety protocols with videos and tests, monitoring gauges evaluating the machinery

that process chemicals for plastics, building materials, personal care products, and a slew of other things. Helping to load and unload uncooked supplies and waste, and writing down reports and logbook related stuff. logbook related stuff. Occasionally, I would climb a ladder and peer into a tank of some highly acidic or otherwise deadly substance and contemplate my own mortality. I was supposed to be taken down notes, but I'd be caught up in the awe of something that could painfully take the life of any living creature that happened to fall into it. The PPE seemed like it would just prolong the dying part, stretch out the pain.

Audrey had been telling me that working in a chemical plan day in and day out wasn't safe. wasn't good for my lungs or the rest of my body, but the pay was good. I never graduated from high school, spent some time in jail when I was 18 too, for her petty theft. So, for someone who has narrowed their options because of poor circumstances,

and yes, poor choices in the past, I think I'm doing pretty darn well. I don't bring that up with Audrey when she tries to get me to change occupations, though, even though she knows all about it. She is a high school science teacher, by the way, dealing with crowds of teenagers day in and day out and doing all that extra stuff the administrators expect you to do for free

comes with its own occupational hazards. They really don't pay teachers as much as they should. But between the two of us, we've had enough for our three boys, the oldest which is 11, to live pretty comfortably while we set aside a little for their college. We don't want that to change because the world changed. So, when I thought about this bird,

getting in the way of my sleep, I started to get angry. I've got a love for all creatures of this planet. As a kid, I used to try to keep pets until my stepfather started to get a hold of them. Sometimes I think I'd have worked with animals in another life, maybe gone to college to be a zoologist. If things are gone differently, you know.

But this bird was messing with my sleep. Sleep was important for work at the chemical plant, like Mick had reminded me, and work was important for my family. Something had to be done. I don't know why, but it wasn't until the third day of the bird's visitations that I told Audrey about it when I called her after work. I was out on the porch and dusk was on its way,

but the bird was already getting warmed up. It was going through a succession of notes tentatively, like a band tuning itself up. I say banned, because it had so many sounds it could make. Yeah, I can hear it, Audrey said over the phone. I ran a caffeine and fatigue shaking hand through my hair. I don't want to do anything drastic, I said. She laughed.

I don't think you'd be able to, she said. You're always sitting cockroaches and spiders outside. I don't have the heart to step on them, I said. So, what do you think? Do I call animal control for this? Have you checked to see whether there's a nest? No. And why didn't I think of that?

So what? This might be a motherbird protect. a nearby nest or something? Could be, and maybe it feels you're a threat to its young. Okay, I said. So, what do I do if there's a nest with eggs in it? I've heard that moving a nest is a bad idea. The mother might not come back to a young.

You wait, she said. I hoft. Once they hatch, she said, and get big enough to leave the nest, it shouldn't be a problem anymore. Well, how long's that going to take? I don't know. Depends on the speed. A species of bird. Could be days, could be weeks.

I have to gain. While you're waiting, Mr. Impatient, she said. You should try to learn a little more about it. Find out if there's a nest, where it is, what species the bird is. Mr. Impatient, I said. You don't know what it's like with this bird drilling holes in your ear drums all through the night. Um, hello? Ear plugs? Noise cancelling headphones? You use those at work, right?

Fair enough, I said. But if I can't find the nest, I might have to start calling around for other options. Maybe there's some animal conservationist types that can help me relocate the birds safely or something. I didn't at the time know about wildlife removal. We talked about other things, how the kids were doing, how our respective jobs were. You know, the kind of things married with children people talk about. And when we hung up, I stayed out on the porch. It was full night by this time.

The bird was really getting into it. Now it would make the squealing and barking that sounded like it belonged to a squirrel. The only reason I knew it came from that bird and not a squirrel was because the noises it was making would transition while keeping the same volume and direction. I've heard that mimicking birds can replicate everything from other birds to construction equipment, so its reproducing of squirrel sounds didn't seem too far-fetched. Come daylight, I said, I'm going to be. to get a better idea of what kind of bird you are and what you're doing here. I was feeling much better because I talked to my wife about it,

and because tomorrow was Saturday and I had the weekends off. That meant I could sleep during the day if I had to. But then the frogs got going and the insects. The noises intermingled, sounding symphonic, orchestrated, controlled. The frogs began to sound like brass instruments. I continued up, increasing their tempo and pitch to match the bird song, up and up to a frenzy. I felt light-headed. I sat down and tapped the desk table with my fingernails to try break the harmony.

I wouldn't call it a harmony though. Not exactly, because it seemed to be mocking the collections of noises we ordinary call harmonies. I wouldn't call it disharmony either, because there was simply too much order to it. Has to be a coincidence, I thought. Just a human mind trying to impose order that isn't there. A few minutes passed, or half an hour, I'm not really sure, before the frogs and insects began to die down. But that bird was leading.

It played me a dozen of his own notes. Harsh, yet fading and doleful, that dwindled the way and made me somehow more concerned about the silence to come. It ended. A shiver ripped up through my inner spine to rest over the back of my neck. When I started to go inside, I saw something sticking against the frame of the doorway, just above and to the left of the door handle. It was dark and glistening, a big fat cockroach. But when I moved to open the door, it sprang towards me with more range than I expected.

Its flesh, wet and yielding, touched the flesh of my forearm. It was a frog. Now, on the ground by my tennis shoes, it hopped on towards the wood. would to be on the deck. Had this been happening every night, I wondered, since that bird had come. Coincidence, I reminded myself. I went inside, got some food cooking, put on the TV, and then the bird started up again. I heard some frogs too, but thankfully couldn't hear them nearly as well as the bird once inside.

After dinner, it was earplugs and browsing the internet until I passed out in my chair and somehow ended up in bed. The next day, I breakfast and got out into the backyard about 7 a.m. intent on finding a nest. I began my search of the trees nearest the back porch. Didn't take

long before spotting it, partly because of the flies buzzing around it. About 15 foot in a tall oak tree was what looked like a nest. But it was upright, not horizontal, and it was wet and clogged up with some weird stuff.

I knew there was a 10-foot ladder in the adjacent shed, so I went over and got it. I put the ladder under that tree, and it was a wonder that what I found when I got closer didn't make me lose my breakfast. I couldn't tell if there were any leaves or twigs. The usual kinds of materials were making a nest, but there were bones jutting out of meat. There were patches of fur, there was a frog's eye. There were limbs and thoraxes of crickets and cicadas. Strings of ligament and intestine wrapped around and ran through the meat and bone.

Blood and other fluids oozed and dripped down the leaves to the bottom of the tree. A nasty little detail I hadn't noticed before. I almost fell off the ladder. It was woven together like a basket, like a nest. But it was wedged into the branches of the trees vertically instead of horizontally, facing me as if it might give birth into my open arms. There were no eggs, they would have fallen out. When the nest moved, I got down a few rungs on the ladder, sure I would fall.

Just the wind, I thought. It was a windy day. I stayed up there for a couple more minutes, waiting for a sign of the nest's creator. A couple more minutes was enough. I leapt down the ladder, put it up in the shed, went inside the cabin and locked the door. I searched for the number of the local animal control online and left a message on the machine.

To my surprise, even though it was a Saturday, they called me back that afternoon. What you want, the guy on the line said, is wildlife removal. We usually handle domestic animals, but I could give you a number for wildlife removal. Okay, sorry about that, I didn't know. But wildlife removal is going to be closed on Saturday.

he said and what you said was in that nest I gotta see it for myself I've heard of some birds put in bottle caps and other stuff in their nests but nothing like that yeah I said something must be wrong with this bird like I said in that message I left I'm worried about it getting a hold of the neighbours

pets there were no nearby neighbours much less pets but I was worried about it attacking me and didn't want to admit as much might be a hawk or something he said Or an owl, if he's active at night, like you say. I don't think those birds can imitate the sounds of other animals. I was thinking more along the lines of a crow or a raven.

Look, he said, I've got some time this evening, so I'll head out myself and take a look. Um, all right, if whatever made that, that nest is the same as the bird that's been making all that racket, it should be most active then. But the animal control worker called back later and said, it wouldn't be until Monday. I thought I should just go ahead and call wildlife removal, but decided I'd let him come out and take a look first and call wildlife removal later if I had to.

He seemed adamant about seeing it for himself. The next two days were hard. I didn't tell Audrey about the details of the nest, just that there was a nest, and I felt really bad about that. I'm not exactly sure why I left the details out. She doesn't get queasy. Not usually.

I guess I'd rather some random person from animal control think I'm crazy than my wife. I planned on filling her in on all the details once the nest and the bird that had made it were removed from the property. I powered through Saturday and Sunday night with earplugs in. I didn't step foot outside. I never thought I'd be looking forward to Monday morning as I was. I got a call Monday during work, around 11 a.m., that the animal control worker was ready to head out to the cabin I was running.

renting. I'd like to poke around in that nest, was one of the things he said. I didn't know if that was the best way to handle things, but when I suggested over the phone that maybe I should just go ahead and call wildlife removal like I was supposed to. He cut me off and asked for the cabin's address. I got home a little earlier than usual at about 4.30. A white pickup truck was parked out in the driveway. It had animal control and the countess name on its side. Guess they couldn't get here until later, I grumbled. I called out as I went around the cabin to the back porch.

I saw that cabin maybe three or four times. Then I heard something high and looked up where I was reluctant to look. The nest had gotten much bigger. Larger bones had been added in for support, holding up larger pieces of meat, thicker in trails than before snaked around. I saw some patches of clothing in among the fur and the other stuff that wasn't as wet. There was a knocked-over ladder, the same ladder I'd used yesterday, that lay beneath the nest on the ground. It was covered in blood.

I put my hands on my knees and threw up. Standing up, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, appeared at the nest again, and could see that yes, it was moving. Coils in the nest jiggled as if fluids were covered. coursing through them. Even though it was made of meat and bones, not metal and wire, I'd seen enough machines at work.

I knew a machine when I saw one. I'd read somewhere that electrical currents on our bodies, as well as, I assumed, in those of other animals, are conducted across cells, and that such electrical currents are important for the functional parts of our bodies, like the heart and the brain.

I wasn't sure how well the parts of living things could conduct electricity, especially once taken out. I didn't think it could be as well as inorganic machines could do, but this bird had clearly made some alterations. Maybe the machine had to use such parts, or maybe its creator wanted it that way. I don't know.

What I do know is that meaty parts were moving and pumping, and the surrounding air felt as if it was charged, even from below. The nest clicked and throbbed. Something was happening. Repurposed bones and tendons stretched. There was a ripping noise and a large, wet ball slipped out, fell down and hit a few branches before cracking upon the ground. An egg.

A large thing inside was coming out fast. It squawked, clawing away pieces of shell with fingers that had talons on them. A substance that was somewhere between yoke and a mammal's afterbirth flea. fluid oozed out. By the time the creature had flung aside the other thick pieces of shell, which seemed oddly skin-like. I could see that the lower half of his face was wide like a frogs, and its eyes were both frog-like and insectoid. Feathered, balding wings hung from his back. The bold spot suggested the chitinous wings of a cricket or a cicada. Feather and fur competed for spots along its live but powerful-looking body. A hairy tail that was also balding

revealed patches of heart, kite in as exoskeleton, whipped the air behind it. The creature stood about my height, looking straight into my eyes with its own that, in spite of their frog and insect-like position, it sniffed at me with a human nose that jiggled when the beak below opened a squawk at me again.

After the squawk, it said, in the same voice they'd been on the phone earlier, the animal control worker's voice, "'Good Lord, never seen anything like it. let me put a catch pole inside, usually for dogs and whatnot, but this is a good enough application. By the time its beat closed, I was screaming. It darted towards me, its wings flickered on its back. I couldn't move out of its way quick enough, but it slipped.

Its long, strangely segmented hind legs arching into the air, its own afterbirth trailing. It must have slipped in the stuff it was born from, or rebrand. born from. There were no eggs of offspring. Instead, from what I could tell, there was this nest-like machine that went somewhere, and there was this bird thing that rolled out repeatedly to Hatchanoo, to be reborn with new features. As it scrambled to get back up, still rolling around in the viscous fluid that had been inside its egg, I sprinted off towards my truck, keys already in hand. It screamed after me in a human voice. I couldn't tell if it was mimicking my own or that of the animal control worker that had come out to the cabin.

I got on the road, found the interstate, and didn't stop driving, barring getting gas and heaving my guts out of the restroom, until I was parked in front of my house in Nashville three hours later. The porch light came on, and Audrey opened the door. I could see two of our boys peeking out on the other side of her. Why didn't you call? she said. I wanted to surprise you My voice broke like an old toy Got some time off work

I lied Oh already She said Hopefully Mr. Impatient Doesn't get in trouble with the boss I embraced Audrey and the kids Feeling their strength of life flowed through me

I tried to make what happened earlier Go away by not thinking about it But like that bird thing Coming out of the egg fully formed It's reality clawed away the pieces of my resolve. There was an image I kept coming back to that I recalled at some point on the road. It was from when I first started working at the chemical plant in Alabama. I'd been touring the outside of the facility alone on lunch break, and I'd seen some birds drinking from a puddle

of rainbow-colored water. After the boys had gone to bed, and while Audrey was finishing up a prep work for a next day's science classes, I went upstairs and passed out. I woke up. I woke up about one in the morning. Glancing over, I noticed my wife sleeping beside me. I started to go back to sleep, but a harsh, scratching bird's core, almost like the clearing of a human's throat, woke me up again. It had come from just beneath our bedroom window.