CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "All I Want For Christmas..." Creepypasta

Episode Date: December 10, 2021

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by beardify: 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...SUGGESTED 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-

I've asked the nurses not to play any holiday music in the ICU. They tell me that it's a decision from management and that it's out of their control. But an orderly finally took pity on me and brought me some earplugs. Better than nothing, I suppose. At least they make the trembling stop. I'm still too weak to move from the bed. I'll have to tell my story through talk to text. But first, I have to decide where it begins.

Did all this start with the anonymous skill? perfectly wrapped in gold paper and red ribbon, the noting candle that it contained. Or was it even earlier when the holiday shopping season began in the more gift shop that I used to manage? We sell knick-knacks, speciality cards and seasonal decorations, jewelry stuffed animals and scented candles. I'm sure you know the place I mean. Unsurprisingly, the holiday season is the busiest time of year for us. I needed all hands on deck to decorate the shop on the last weekend of October. It could have meant all our jobs if we couldn't get the store numbers into the black, and

if I had to be there, then so did my employees. We were a team, and being part of a team sometimes means you have to give up your Saturday off to come in and hang decorations. We all have to make sacrifices. Still, there was a lot of grumbling among the employees, setting up fake snow in the store window, preparing the collectible ornament display. I reminded them that I was paying a whole dollar more than minimum wage. 8.25 an hour.

And that we had an at-will employment. If they weren't happy in my franchise, they were free to go somewhere else. I hear most of the others pay less, but at least I got things back on track. At least, until transportation costs screwed my budget. If you don't believe me, just take a look at shipping costs a year ago compared to now. The only way I was going to make it was if I cut hours and added some nice incentives, like free gift wrapping. I get that being alone in the store is no cakewalk. Look at the long hours that I work.

And sure, wrapping packages perfectly isn't easy. But that's what work is. You show up and do what you're told. Why couldn't my employees see that? That was when some of them started to call in sick, maliciously, I think, and against my clear instructions. Since we were short-staffed, no one could be out for any reason.

I mean, I don't offer any health insurance, and there's no way they were actually going to see a doctor. As if the unexpected illness weren't enough, people actually started to quit. Good riddance. There were always more where those came from, and it was a good chance to cut away dead weight. I mean, if they weren't even loyal enough to come in when I called,

if they couldn't be cheerful for the customers while round, gifts if they couldn't deal with a little cold or some overtime, then they deserve to be jobless as far as I was concerned. The silliest thing at the time was the reason some of them gave for quitting. It wasn't what I expected. There wasn't even something I thought about. My employees just didn't want the store to play holiday music anymore. Impossible, I told them.

Those songs were what got the customers in the mindset to buy. and besides I gave them three different CDs to rotate each day I wasn't being unreasonable at least one of them gave me a parting gift even if it was anonymous at first it seemed much nicer than the inappropriate words I found carved in the staff bathroom the gift was a small box wrapped in golden paper

and tied with a red ribbon the wrapping was immaculate I'd written up enough people for shoddy wrapping to know the difference and the gift inside was a candle from my very own store. I didn't recognise the smell or the label, but it came with a tiny card. All I want for Christmas, it read, is you. That was nice, I thought.

A little weird, but nice. It was about time Zorn showed a little gratitude to the guy who signed their paycheck. The ex-wife had the kids for the weekend. So I lit the candle, set it on the coffee table in front of me. He did up some dinner in the microwave and settled into my recliner for a James Bond marathon. Make my wish come true. All I want for Christmas. I recognised store CD music before I began to wonder about where I was or how I got there.

The last thing I remember was the intro to Doc to Know. I must have dozed off. It was hard to breathe. I was paralyzed. I couldn't move my arms or legs. I'd been wrapped, mummified in gift paper. I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know. My ears were splitting.

I hated loud music. I winced at every high note. I had to make that awful sound stop. But how? I couldn't see. Even squirming like a worm was a huge effort. It made me swirmed. wet, then panic that I wasn't getting enough air.

Long before I became a successful franchise manager, I'd been a Boy Scout. We went caving once, and one of the chunky boys got stuck in a tight squeeze. We'd all laughed at his predicament, helpless, wriggling, buttons flying off, even wetting himself in his panic. He should have just skipped a couple twinkies, I remember thinking. But that was then. It was a lot less funny when it was me who was unable to move with empty lungs and a full bladder.

The paper was wrapped so tightly that I could taste it on my tongue. If I forced my neck up and down, I could weaken this stuff a little, but the effort for even such a tiny movement was exhausting. More lyrics played. I don't know how long I kept at it. Soon the CD track started skipping, making me cringe even more. I passed out several times from the effort and the lack of air, just to wake up shivering in my own urine, sweat and drool.

The room was freezing. It must have been hours before I could crinkle the paper enough to breathe properly. Then days before I was able to free my arms and legs by twisting them against the wrapping until they bled. When I put the gift wrap from my head, it was still totally dark, except for the blinking light of a CD player, taunting me. As soon as I could move, I smashed it. Overhead, blinding lights came on. And then the music started.

I don't want a lot for Christmas. This is all I'm asking for. It came from everywhere. There were probably speakers hidden in the walls. I thought my ears would bleed. I wish they would bleed, because that might muffle the sound at least a little bit. I held under my ears and took in my surroundings.

It was a kind of holiday hellscape. The fake snow on the floor came up to my knees in places and there were enough plastic trees to fill a shipping container. Cardboard boxes were stacked up to the bare concrete ceiling. I don't care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree. In front of the forest of plastic was a small package wrapped in gold paper, tied with a red ribbon, just like the candle.

My fingers shook as I tore into it. Deck the halls, read the anonymous Christmas card inside. Beneath it was a piece of cake, the kind I got for the employee's birthday parties, because it was always on sale. It had gone stale days ago, but I hadn't eaten in at least that long. My stomach rumbled,

and the tiny dessert did nothing to save my hunger. There's no point in going into the detail, of all my attempts to escape from that nightmare of a room. It's enough to say, but they all failed. The music and A-C blasted out from all sides. It was so, so cold, but I couldn't even hear my teeth chattering over the festive songs. In the end, I improvised clothes from the sword-wrapping paper

and insulate it with fake snow. I pound Santa suits in one of the boxes. Even when I put them on over my ridiculous wrapping paper suit, I still shivered. It took me a long, long time to realize that there was only one way to get more cake. Deck, the halls. It's not easy to decorate Christmas trees with shaking fingers. It's even harder when every time an ornament falls or isn't placed properly, a buzzer sounds.

Then the music volume goes up and the room gets a little colder. That's how I figured out that someone was watching me work. A kind of sadistic Santa Watching over the trembling elf More lyrics played Sure enough when I finished the tree A slot opened in the wall I ran for it yelling as loud as my horse throat would permit

A chunk of stale cake flew through the slot Along with a cold cup of coffee That splattered across the floor It was slammed shut before I could even force My frigid fingers through I collapsed on the cold concrete I cried Two days later

Two days of that hellish music Two days of icy work To make the tree absolutely perfect And this was all I got One piece of cake And some spilled coffee That had to lick from the concrete like a dog It was sickening

But I needed liquids There was a whole roomful of trees to go I'm just gonna keep on waiting Underneath the mistletoe It was tinsel, ornaments, endless strings of lights, stars, angels, pine cones, candy canes and collectibles. Each time the decorations weren't spaced just so, or I wasn't working fast enough. I got it. The buzzer, the increased volume, the blast of cold air.

If I really screwed up, the pathetic chunk of cake got even smaller. More lyrics blared. By the end of the first week, I'd finished about half the trees, and my health and hearing was permanently damaged. Night or day, the music never stopped. The blazing white lights overhead never went out. The cold, noise and light made it impossible to sleep until I collapsed from sheer exhaustion. If I slept too long, I'd get the usual punishment.

I'd no way of knowing, but too long seemed to be any longer than several minutes. Then it was back to work. I wasn't getting any nutrients Each day I became weak and weaker It must have taken more than 10 days to finish the second set of trees To my taskmaster's satisfaction By the time I placed the final star atop the final perfect tree I could see my breath in clouds around it

My fingers around it looked blue I wobbled back waiting for something Anything to happen But the CD just played on Like not even the end of the world was stopped it. I... ...lost it.

I don't remember the next part too well, but when I came to, I was laying in a pile of destruction. Plastic pine needles and smashed ornaments were everywhere. And based on what was around my neck, I tried to hang myself with Christmas lights. It was like whoever had put me here had forgotten about me. The cake and coffee was disgusting, sure, but it had been keeping me alive. The buzzer didn't sound. The slot didn't open. There was only one explanation.

I'd finally been left. To die. What more can I do? All I want for Christmas is you. It was several days later when the police kicked in the door to rescue me. Apparently, the disgruntled ex-employer who kidnapped me had been stopped for a routine traffic violation on his way to the police. abandoned basement where I was being held.

He had a list of prize, and when he realized the cops weren't letting him go for a long time, he confessed where I was. He hadn't wanted to kill me, he said. He just wanted me to see what it was like. I guess you could call that my own little Christmas miracle. The nurses tell me that when they dragged me out of there, I was near hypothermia and barely conscious. I wouldn't have lasted a day. more and yet they told me I was singing long.