CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "As of yesterday, u/CreepyCars is offline" Creepypasta

Episode Date: August 20, 2022

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by Saturdead: 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►Gerald Spades: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Vwm5bSUGGESTED 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-

The police aren't coming. There is nothing illegal about a car across the road. I tried to tell him I'd been threatened that my place had been trashed, but it's hard to explain. Ramblings don't come across very well over the phone, and I don't think they took me seriously. So, I'm taking some time to just sit down and put this all on paper. I'll try to collect myself, and then I'll call them again.

if I make it that far. I don't know what to expect. It's all gone, but I don't know if that's enough. I know some of you have questions about what happened to creepy cars. I've seen the posts, I've gotten the text. I'm telling you, this is it. This is what you need to know. Let's start from the beginning.

I visited a friend in Indiana a few years ago. I was on my way to the supermarket when I walked past an abandoned house with a rusted out car parked halfway up the drive. The car just looked, savage. It was missing a door, it didn't have a single window, and there was a very graphic word written with white spray paint on the hood. I didn't think much about it. It's Indiana, you see these things every now and then. But then, someone stepped out of the house, so made Guyne looking good. coughing up a lung. He lived there. Not only that, he got in the tetanus-coloured

rust car and started it. It was the creepiest thing I'd ever seen, like watching a machine come back from the dead. So yeah, I snapped a photo of it. I could never have guessed that thing would even start, let alone roll out of the driveway. I'm a bit of a car guy. What I saw on the Indiana driveway was a rusted out 61 Ford's Efer Mark 2, and seeing it like that was just tragic. So, to share the pain, I uploaded it. Apparently, I wasn't the only one with a lot of opinions. This started a long thread.

People not only responded, but uploaded their own pictures, pictures of everything from rusted classics that had been stripped and abused, to videos of amateur frankincars. Hell, one guy just uploaded an ice cream truck, abandoned in a swamp. I swear, I saw an alligator trying to get in the driver's seat. We started sharing these stories of trashed and creepy cars from all around the country, and soon, the world. Over the course of a few weeks, we sort of split off from a larger community

and started something we called creepy cars. I was the main admin. Yeah, the one and only. creepy cars was not just about funny and creepy content it was about enthusiasm sure we all groaned over the various hack jobs but it was also a sort of collective mourning there was a genuine interest in the content uploaded and of course there was passion i was called in a bunch of times to moderate discussions on rat rods for example we had some internal jokes and themes we had don't wrench and drive custom job Fridays, new year new car posts, all in good spirit. We had this one thing where we posted the ugliest selfies of ourselves and asked people to post what kind of car it looked like we owned. This one time a guy found a car posted and reached out to us about how he could fix it. We raised $12,000 for the restoration. So this was the

kind of environment I put my time in. These were good, honest people. So when I saw this car, this random ass rust bucket cruising down the road. I wasn't being malicious. It was just fun. Just a quick video. Nothing to think of. It was last May, Minnesota in springtime. I was dog-sitting Sally for a friend and decided to take a long walk by the river before it got too dark outside. All in all, about a 30-minute walk. Not too bad. And Sally was happy to get out for a bit. We were just about to head back when Sally started whining. She put a tail between her legs and cuddled up next to me. I looked around but couldn't see what had scared her. I brought out my phone. If it was a wild animal, I wanted a photo. Worst case scenario, I could call

the police. Then I heard this strange metallic sound. It sounded like a rattling engine, like something had come loose, an engine belt slapping around, bearing shots to hell. It sounded like a dying vehicle. And yet, something came rolling around the corner. The first time I saw it, I was amazed it even moved.

It looked like some sort of cartoon, something forgotten back in the 70s, possibly a pacer. It had this thick layer of mud spread around the hood, covering a few forest green paint spots. There were lit candles spread out across the dashboard, which was the only light coming from the car, at all. And in the driver's seat was this.

I don't know how to describe it. Weirdo, I guess. He had a black motorcycle helmet with a crude face spray painted in white. He had this faux fur coat with a raccoon pattern and bleach white leather gloves. He was leaning back against the redacted. the only seat that remained in the car. A seat that was barely anything but a rusted frame. I didn't even think about it.

I recorded it going past me down the street. The driver was looking at me all the way. The large helmet slowly turned to face me every inch of the way. I should have listened to Sally. She was pulling on the leash, trying to get away. Whining, barking, throwing herself against her. the leash. She knew this was bad, really bad. But I just stood there, open mouth like a fish out of water. I had no idea what I was looking at. Last thing I saw as it rounded the corner was the

license plate. Hot rod with the O'ser Zeros. I could hear it going down the street five minutes after it passed me. When Sally finally calmed down, I carried her back home. I had a video to upload. The thing went viral. It spread from our little community to pretty much everything. 56K upvotes on Reddit in a couple of hours. People were reacting to it, adding music to it, making memes out of it. Hot Rod was all I heard for a week straight. I saw at least a dozen they see me rolling clips, all by different people. That was all fun in games, but I got this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach.

When my buddy came to pick up Sally, she leapt into his arms, shivering. To her, none of this was fun. This was horror. Even two weeks after seeing the hot rod, it was still fresh in my mind. The driver had been staring at me, like they knew who I was, like they were there for me.

And then, that awful noise, like an engine trying to end itself. It sounded like it was already broken, but it just kept rolling past me nonetheless. I couldn't make heads or tails of it. By all accounts, their car should have been stalling on the side of the road, and yet it didn't. That night, as I laid awake thinking of it. about it, I could hear something in my kitchen. Half asleep, I checked it out. My oven was on, highest setting. There was an electric hum rising and sinking as the temperature breathed. And as the temperature rose, there was a rhythmic thunking sound that just kept getting louder.

I hurried to turn it off, only to realize that it was already off. I burnt my hands pulling out the oven and had to crawl over to the countertop to pull the plug. For about ten minutes afterwards, I just stood there, mouthing, what the hell, over and over? It wasn't until I headed back to bed that I noticed the automated porch light was on. Something had moved outside.

Since then, things got worse. First, it was just small things, radio going off in the middle of the night, interference on my phone, losing Bluetooth signal on my headphones, small stuff. But over time, I started noticing other things. Lights flickering rhythmically in the supermarket. Light posts fading in and out on the street. Car alarms going off, but warping themselves that go faster and slower like a dying fire alarm.

But the worst part came one day when I was driving home a few weeks ago. I'd been at a restaurant with a friend in the next town over. I took the freeway back home when my radio stopped working. By now I was getting frustrated. Electronics just kept freaking out on me, and I had no idea why. That and there was always that sense of threat looming in the air. There was always a sort of rhythmic pulse, like a hum of an engine, somewhere around me. I was just about to turn the radio away.

off and on again, when my engine stalled. Not just spotted out, it just stopped. One big thunk sound, then nothing. I slowly drifted to the side of the road, turning the key didn't do a thing. I was just sitting there, my head resting on the steering wheel. You can't live out here without a car, and everything just seemed to work against me. I snapped out of it by the hunk of a horn. It was this water-damaged car noise, combining a bright choking yell with a gargle. At first, I didn't even register it. It sounded so strange that I thought I'd imagined it. It wasn't until I heard it a second time that I looked up.

Parked right next to me, door-to-door, was none other than the hot rod. Motorcycle helmet driver and all. He was parked so close. that I couldn't open my door. I just stared at the black helmet. It felt like that childlike spray-painted smiley face was not just a painting, but actually grinning at me,

like it was widening every time I blinked. The driver held up a white leather glove and pointed down. He wanted me to roll down the window. Not going to happen, I mouthed back, shaking my head. Why was I scared? Why did I want to run? Almost as an answer to my question.

The window started rolling down on its own. Yeah, no, no way, I wasn't having that. I crawled over to the passenger seat and opened the door, only to have it slammed shut. An outside force held the door shut and the locks clicked. They kept clicking over and over in the same force to see. them as the engine of the hot rod. This awful funk noise over and over, like someone beating a dead motor back to life. My radio sparked back to life, a static burst crawled into my ear, sending a shiver across my arms. Delete it. The sound was bright, pitch shift, but run through

some sort of filter like an old 1940s radio receiver. I couldn't tell what kind of voice it was. It was just this blend, broken stutter. I don't... I don't know. The video? You want the video? Delete it. I can't just...

It's already out there. Even if I deleted, it's still... Delete it. I can't. I can't. It's still going to be there. Get it done. He didn't even have his hands on the...

steering wheel as the car pulled away. I could feel him staring at me from the broken side mirror. I just sat there, turning my car key over and over. When the engine finally woke up, it screamed, clunked and complained. It shut itself off a few times, but it got me back home. The entire side of my car was covered in rust, and that car never started again. This was the first. This was the First time I called the police. They didn't have a car with that license plate registered, so they couldn't do much to help. They didn't understand what I was talking about. Some guy angry about me putting up a video, pulling up next to me, asking me to delete it.

How could I explain the threat? How could I make them listen? I asked the people at creepy cars as well. They didn't understand. It sounded like paranoia or some sort of science for you. Fiction. Cars don't just act on their own. They controlled. My window couldn't have just rolled down on its own. Radios don't just say whatever they want, and doors don't just slam shut. I was coming off as a lunatic, and people were starting to accuse me. You just want attention, they said. You miss having

notifications. From this point on, it just got a whole lot worse. I was getting calls at answered themselves all through the night, calls demanding me to delete it over and over and over. Strange engine noises going by outside at odd hours of the night, lamps popping in their sockets. Hell, at one point, my TV turned on and kept looping half-second clips from the monsters. Didn't stop until I pulled the plug. He was getting harder and harder to get to work. At one point, as I was taking the bus, the dampest, thing just refused the start.

Twenty people stranded in a parking lot. I had to ask a work friend to take me home. 35 minutes in the wrong direction. This was by the end of last week. I've called in sick since. A few days ago, I heard the porch light explode. There were footsteps outside. He was just outside.

I know it. I was ready for him to bang on the door, to peek in the windows, something. I grasped the hammer and hugged it like a teddy bear, begging God not to have to use it. But the driver didn't do a thing. Didn't knock, ring the doorbell or peek inside the window. He just stood there for the better part of an hour,

waiting for me to delete it. At one point, I just yelled at him. Just do something. What the hell do you want from me? Of course, I knew what he wanted. He wanted me to delete it. I already had. But it was out there and there was nothing stopping it from spreading.

When he finally left, I felt tears rolling down my face. Just relief. I'd been so tense my hands had cramped into claws. I could just barely let go of the hammer. Look, I haven't been out for a week. I've lived on literally everything in my fridge and freezer, every leftover, every jar, all of it. The fridge shut down completely on Thursday, but by then I didn't have much else than corn flakes and cup noodles anyway. Last night, I decided I'd give it a go.

I brought my hammer and went outside. Immediately, I heard a rumble, a broken engine, then another. Then a lot. The hot rod was just the start. Six cars and a motorcycle rolled around the corner. These broken, battered machines, flat tires, rusted frames, broken windows, oil dripping from broken engine blocks, howling engines, forcing these machine corpses to retch forward one gasoline gulp at a time.

And the drivers, all dressed in these black motorcycle. helmet painted with these crude faces. Angry, happy, sad, screaming, the entire emotional spectrum. Dressed in these absurd jackets, some fur, some cracked leather. One of them had this yellow crash dummy-looking jumpsuit, one pant leg torn off at the knee. One of them was missing a shoe, revealing a dry white foot with two missing toes and black nails. I just dropped my hammer. They were a goddamn gang. There was nothing I could do. I ran back inside, slammed the door, and picked up my phone.

Of course, it didn't work. Open the door. It was a different voice, brighter, spoken by one of the drivers. A woman trying to best to sound as kind and patient as she could. But there was something there. A threat just been. beneath the surface, trying to break through. Open the door, please.

I didn't. I couldn't. My body wasn't responding. I was just slowly inching back, as if being quiet would make them go away. I found myself holding my breath, looking for a place to hide. You're going to open the door now. There was a gurgling sound, someone spitting at water, splashing against the door.

Seconds later, I could see the door handle rusting in a matter of seconds as the whole mechanism fell apart. It took the door being battered down for me to finally snap out of it. The crash dummy driver was closing his visor back up, but I caught a glimpse of the sickly pale face with a tint of algae green lips, long yellow teeth sunken into black gums. Then the visor was back down, showing a sad spray-painted smiley face.

Crass dummy stepped aside, and a small woman stepped in. She had this oversized motorcycle helmet with a cartoonish-painted grin on it. She had this plastic silvery disco jacket and snow boots. If it weren't for all my lights being broken, she'd sparkle. You should have opened the door. I just ran. I locked myself in the bathroom as they went to town on my furniture. I heard smashing, cutting, soaring, some power tools, barely functioning, like battery-powered

machines coming back on to destroy. I just crawled into my bathtub in the dark, pulling down the shower curtains as I stumbled back. I tried to force air into my lungs, but I just couldn't stop panting. This is what Sally had felt like, the first night when she saw the hot rod, I'm sure of it. door, really, she cackled, this awful bird-like sound. I could hear something in a lungs rattle. You idiot. I heard a visor open, a wretching gargle, and a metallic fizzle, something loud, splintering the bathroom door by its handle, a small hand gently letting the light in,

careful steps coming towards me as I heard glass shatter in the other room. Why didn't you delete it? She asked. We asked you nicely. I... You can't. I saw the silhouette of the oversized helmet to the shower curtain. She wasn't moving, not even breathing.

I deleted the video. The others, they copied it and... Video, she scoffed. What video? I just froze. What the hell were they taught? talking about. If not the video, then... I don't... What do you want?

You stole our name. That's our name. What? What are you... She pulled the shower curtain off and grabbed me by the throat. She had this cramp-like strength, like she didn't know how to hold back. I just started coughing, feeling these little bone daggers dig into my windpipe. Wicked little slug bugs, you think you got the crumb. Creepy cars, you think you're it. I could almost see your eyes through the visor.

I looked closely, but there was nothing there. We have creepy cars. You have minutes to live. I tried to say it. I tried it over and over. To say I didn't know that I didn't... I didn't understand. I begged, I cried, I pushed and kicked.

This impossibly thin little arm, barely anything but bone and sinew holding me back. Somehow, she heard me. She listened. She dropped her phone in my lap, an older iPhone, wet and cold to the touch. It had this mutated blue sunflower-looking thing as the background image. It was already logged in on my accounts.

All of them. She watched me delete it. All of it. creepy cars deleted overnight from every single platform Confirmed, confirmed, confirmed, confirmed, are you sure? The phone kept asking and I shakily accepted all of it When it was all said and done She just took her phone back and left my place is trashed

Even without a front door I don't know if I can go out there I've just sat here for the better part of a day My computer started working a few hours ago And I just I had to say something There was a rusty car in the field outside And I'm starting to question if it's one of them There's no one there

Maybe it's just a warning Or maybe it has always been there I don't know I'm questioning everything I'm not going out there anytime soon Maybe it's over Maybe, it's just started. They left a black motorcycle helmet for me.