CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "Angels don't have wings, they have razorblades" Creepypasta

Episode Date: July 15, 2021

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by Keinnea: 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►https://www.angelarium.net/grigori#/a...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'm not a religious person. I grew up with a mother that was forced to go to church and listen to sermons in Latin with a brother and sister. Her parents would drop her off the church, then drive away, leaving her with the responsibility of two younger siblings and acting like she had a clue what was going on. She laughed sometimes, telling me the stories of a youth and how she didn't have any idea what was being said.

The first few times she tried asking, the adults would shush her or glare. so she learned to just be quiet and mimic what was being done around her. The word amen being uttered, bow the head and repeat it. Everyone standing up and singing songs, better get up and mouth the words so that nobody thinks she and her siblings were rude little children that haven't been raised right. Once she had her own children, none of us went to church.

Some of my siblings asked, out of curiosity, why, when the rest of their friends were forced to go? Being in the deep south Church was what all families did in our town We were the exception I think some of the neighbours found it weird Dressed in the Sunday best While we would be playing around outside

Or piling to the car for breakfast Not going to church again They'd ask My mom would laugh Keys jingling as she got into the car And cheerfully called to them Nope we're going to get pancakes So

I've never read the Bible. I had one. My grandfather insisted on it and put my name and birthday on the spine in shiny gold letters. Maybe I should read one though. It started off small. We got strangers sometimes.

The town wasn't that tiny, a little less than 9,000 people. So, when I went to the grocery store, it wasn't that weird to see people I didn't recognize. I didn't think much when I saw the first one. at least I think it was one

He wasn't dressed that oddly But something about him stuck out Maybe it was the way he was dressed In a way too white button-down shirt In the middle of summer Or his long hair that most men wouldn't dare to try out Either way he caught my eye And was just

Staring at me I stared back Trying to figure out if we knew each other from high school or from a friend of a friend, but he was a complete stranger. So I just smiled, waved and went on my way, grabbed my groceries, paid,

loaded my stuff in the car, and drove back to my apartment. I figured it was a one-off, a guy that recognised me for whatever reason, thought I was someone he knew with an interesting fashion sense. But it kept happening. Not just him.

but others. People in clothes that didn't make sense for the heat of summer. Pure white button downs. No wrinkles or signs of sweat. They had gloves too, and long pants that remind me of bell bottoms, but I couldn't even see their feet. I couldn't understand if there was a new fashion trend or something,

but long sleeves and covered head-to-tone clothing doesn't seem like a good trend. Sounds like heat stroke. Still, I tried to be pulled. light. Just wave at the strangers and be in my way. I thought that maybe there were a bunch of groupies following some indie band or a family that insisted on having similar clothes. I don't know. I mentioned it to my mom, curious if she had seen them too, and she laughed it off. Just ignore it, sweetie. Anytime you see them, just wave and be in your way. No need to be rude. So I took her advice

until I finally got enough courage when I saw yet another one at the grocery store staring at me and I wondered close enough to look at the apples he was standing next to and asked Are you from here? I really don't know what I was expecting But what I got in return was terribly underwhelming

He just stared at me Eyes wide and said Nothing So I tried again stupidly, trying for any kind of response if he was enjoying the weather. Had he been in a round town for long? Even asked if he liked apples.

Nothing. Just that same blank unblinking stare that made me muster my best smile and tell him to have a good day. I should never have talked to him. Suddenly, they were everywhere, all the time.

Going to the gas station, one would be in the snack aisle. staring at me the entire time, dragging down my street, one standing in the street corner, only moving its eyes. They never move, at least not at first, just their eyes. They didn't walk or turn their head or anything like that, only ever the eyes. Fayed up with it after a week, I went up to one that was in my way when I was trying to go for an evening walk and asked, Who are you? Why there's so many of you? This one, a woman, stared at me like they always do.

I think I was tired or maybe just sick of having random people in the same outfit everywhere. So, I touched the shoulder. My fingers barely skimmed a white shirt before it was stained in red from blood. I don't recall my screaming or turning tail and running away to my apartment so I could drive to the hospital. I'm sure I was making a racket, but the thing that sticks out to me is that I finally got a response from one of them. She blinked. Then, she smiled. It took ten stitches that closed the cut to my fingers, five for my index, three for the middle, and two for the ring finger.

I don't know what happened. Trying to explain that the emergency room was difficult because they insisted whatever I'd done had gotten down to the bone. After that, things got worse. They actually moved. Not like walk, or, you know, be human, but would glide across the floor to follow me. I still couldn't see their feet. Their knees didn't bend or do anything normal to even mimic a normal way of walking. The first time I saw it, I knocked over a display of cookies and had to apologize profusely to the poor bakery worker.

when she asked me what had me in such a fright, I gathered up the courage to say, that man over there, he keeps staring at me. She looked in the direction I was looking in, Ralph furrowed. But she didn't respond at first, and instead asked if the man had walked away. I must have looked stupid, mouth agape,

because he was right there, but she didn't see him. All I could do was not my head, I agree with her, then rush out of the store. After a week of getting used to them moving, they began changing. Small things at first. The shirts looking less white and more grey. They made a strange rattling sound sometimes.

A hollow, creepy sound. Their face is becoming more expressive. Not much, but rather than just watching with their eyes, they turn their heads or flex their fingers. Eventually, the gloves went away. And I wish they hadn't, because they have strange hands. Their fingers are too long, curved unnaturally, and have sickly grey skin to them. The nails are all ripped off.

Just three or so months ago, I thought there were a bunch of weird groupies that copied a band or maybe some strange cult. I wished I still believed that. It was when I saw strange shadows behind them that I finally broke down and told my mom everything over the phone. My hand being got up. That wasn't an unfortunate cooking incident. It was from them. My jumpiness and sounding like I'm close to a nervous breakdown. Yeah, I've been followed for months now and don't know what to do. She was quiet for a long time and I fully expected her to laugh at me. Tell me I was being ridiculous or dramatic. But instead, she led her a long sigh and said, "'Sweetie, I told you, you should have just been polite.'

"'What the hell are they?' I asked, tears running down my face, as I made sure that every curtain was shut. She was quiet, oddly so, before she offered. "'I don't know. Your grandfather always call them angels.' "'Those are not angels.' "'So you haven't seen them fully yet? That's good. I remember choking out a weak noise.

Maybe a question, but she kept going. You should move, somewhere nice and cold, far away from the south. Move? What? Just pack up everything? Leave my job in apartment with no notice and go? Go where? It doesn't matter.

Far away, states and states away. Maybe even countries. Nothing was making sense. and managed to say as much, trying to demand for answers. But all I got in response is a sigh, a tired and sad sound before she pressed on talking like I hadn't been having a panic attack. You can try to wait it out,

but I'm going to be packing up and going myself. If they're aware of you, then they'll soon be bothering me. I felt cold, throat dry, and I managed to croak out her. What happens if I stay? She was silent again. This time it lasted far too long before she finally continued. Depends on them, I suppose. I don't know.

But if they've already harmed you, I wouldn't be surprised if they'd like to do it again. They're strange like that. We got off the phone shortly after that. She kept insisting she needed to pack and call my siblings, tell my brothers and sisters to be mindful of themselves. I wanted to try stick it out. I didn't want to leave my home. my friends, my little apartment, so I tried keeping my distance from them.

Anytime they drifted too close with their wide and blinking eyes, I walked away, or in some cases, ran. I thought that it wouldn't be too hard. They're slow after all. At least, until one got too close and I couldn't quite run away. I was trying to point gas into my car. I saw it this time, just many. is to stumble back from the pump when the gasoline hose was cut and gas spilled all over my side of the car and onto the ground. Two wings stand on the shoulders of this. Angel.

He stares at me, head cocked to the side like a bird as the wings twitched. But there were nothing like the feathery wings of cherry paintings I'd seen online. They were huge, far too big for its flanky body and anchored to the back by blackened bones. What should have been soft feathers Were twisted and gnarled bones Different colours of white Black, red and pink Some looking diseased

Others looking freshly cut from an animal I stared Mouth a gape And then the wings sliced through the air And left me with a torn shirt And a bleeding stomach I abandoned my car And ran

Someone picked me up and drove me to the hospital The wound was superficial the doctor said, cleaning it out and patching me up with a bit of gauze and offering some painkillers. The moment I got home, I call my mom, even though it was three in the morning. She listened to my jumble account of what happened, and I ended it with a sob of, Can I come to you? No. She sounded so harsh and cold, before she sighed and continued. No, you go one way. I go the other. I'm heading towards Washington State.

Are you not going to tell me what state you stop in? It's not safe. Don't tell me where you end up either. I suggest you leave, now, or in a day or two. And, sweetie, whatever you do. Don't pray. You've never done so before, so don't you dare start now. After that conversation, I still debated on staying.

at least until I looked through my bedroom window to find them not just one of them but many some standing on the street staring up into my apartment others on the roofs and phone lines the sight of some of them floating in the air with skeleton wings

they looked more like razor blades in the street light that's what solidified my decision to leave I guess I'm writing this as a warning If you see some people that stick out, just be polite. Don't talk to them. Just wave and smile and be on your way. I still don't know what they are. Angels?

I don't know a single angel that is razors on their backs. But sure, maybe. Either way, I'm packing up and leaving. Mom says that's the only way. To run as far away, as fast as I can. and don't pray. Praying or guarantee. They find me sooner.