CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "Don't Eat Today's Special" Creepypasta

Episode Date: December 28, 2020

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by HelloHelloHelpHello: 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-

There's something terrifying going on in the restaurant downtown. I could give you the address. I could tell you the exact location. Could give you turn-by-turn directions and how to get there. But I won't. I'll describe how it looks so you can turn away if you ever stumble on it by accident. But that's all I'll do. I'd rather not have any of you trying to find the place.

The restaurant I'm talking about is in a rundown part of my hometown. There's the kind of neighbourhood that consists mainly of closed up shops, their dusty windows blocked over with old newspaper and cardboard. There are only two kinds of businesses that seem to survive in that place. There are filthy bars lying with slot machines on one hand, and on the other are the sort of second-hand electronic stores that seem to only exist so pickpockets can get rid of stolen cell phones. I used to take a shortcut through this district on my way home for my part-time job. Normally there was little to see, or rather while there was to do. was either gross or concerning, if not both. So you were better off not paying any tension in the first place.

On this particular day several months ago, however, an illuminated window caught my eye. A simple tablecloth behind a dirty window. It was the bright colour that did the trick. Nothing really special, you may think, and you'd be right. But its pristine condition stood out in a place like this, where an all-encompassing patina of filth was an expected part of any decor. The window belonged to a two-story house, wedged in between some taller buildings.

Graffiti covered its walls to an extent that rendered it barely recognisable as a restaurant. Once, its name must have been painted onto the wall above the window. Now, only a few letters remained legible. Da E. Stroh was all I could make out. I guess that the second word used to be bistro. No idea about the first one. Upon taking a closer look through the illuminated window, I spotted a late table housing a single, lone customer. There were other tables and chairs haphazily littered around the room,

but this central one was the only table sporting a bright white tablecloth and a guest. Various pots and pans were strewn about on its surface. The air above was filled with soft, foggy steam of freshly cooked food. There were lots of it, far too much for the lone patron. He was a skinny man with worn clothes that seemed far too big for him. His cheeks looked hollow and his arms spindly. Maybe part of the local population of homeless drifters and addicts. Definitely not the kind of person who might be able to afford a meal of this size.

He was facing my direction without ever directly looking at me or the window in general. His attention was completely focused on the food. He shoveled her spoon filled with mashed potatoes and greens. green beans into his mouth, before grasping the nearby glass of water to flood the generous portion down his throat. There was an obvious appetite in the way he hungrily wolfed down anything he could get his hands on, and the longer I stared at the simple but generous meal, the more I started to grow hungry myself. For a minute or two, I fruitlessly walked back and forth in front of the place, searching for a way to enter. The only visible door was closed, and it didn't

look like an entrance in the first place. It was a plain steel door. sporting an electronic warning sign. After returning to the window one last time, I gave up, went home, and proceeded to forget about the whole encounter. I didn't think about it at all until I passed by the window again a week after. As soon as I caught a glimpse of the white colour,

the memory came flooding back. The very same man was still there, or more likely was there again, and once more he sat there in front of a lavish meal. A sweaty gleam was covering his face, and I get to the muscles and his neck tent and twitch whenever he swallowed. The only thing that really changed from last week was the food. A simple mix of potatoes, soups and steamed vegetables had been replaced by more intricate and expensive meals. Plate housed nicely arranged colours of various meats, each artfully drenched in a different sauce and adorned of the few herbs.

With a twist of his wrist, the patron screwed up a serving of thin, delicate noodles. dripping with olive oil and roasted garlic. He squeezed the fork against his lips, his jaw still trying to chew the previous load, then open his mouth and shoveled the noodles in, nearly choking in the process. He looked slightly distressed as he tried to swallow the portion while his hands were already scooping up the next load,

a tender piece of chicken breast from its roast, dripped in brown marinade. He slightly shuddered as he forced the food down, took a second to sip on a glass of red wine, then went back to stuffing himself. I watched him for five minutes before moving on. The scent drifting through the window was enticing, but I had already given up on the notion of finding an entrance to the building.

When I came home, I emptied my pantry and cooked myself a giant meal as well. The next time I came back to the restaurant, wasn't by chance. Something about the whole place had piqued my interest and I was looking forward to seeing whether the same single-acost had returned for a third time. To my disappointment, something was blocking the view that particular night. A board of some sort was propped up against the window from the inside. I could still see small parts of the room through a small gap.

I could see that the light was still burning and that somebody appeared to still be sitting at the place the man had been those last two weeks, but there was no way of getting a good look at what was going on. With my curiosity left unsatisfied, I went home. The next day I made a detour to return. I just hated to be left hanging like that. The window was blocked again. Over the next few weeks, I developed a habit of dropping by the place every now and then.

Sometimes I got a good view into the room. Whenever I did, I'd find the same sight, the skinny man sitting in front of the increasingly luscious meal, gorging himself on the food. By now, you couldn't really call him skinny anymore, though. He had gained at least a little weight. His cheeks were no longer sunken, and his formerly loosely hanging vest

had grown a bit tighter around the waist. While he had eaten with a healthy appetite at first, his expression had turned slightly pained by now. Every bite had become a struggle. Every motion seemed forced. His nose wrinkled and disgust every time his lips opened. Still, he kept eating. I have to admit, however,

that I didn't pay all that much attention to him. The increasingly exotic food was just too bizarre to look away from. Every time I was allowed a glimpse at the table, I'd see more and more alien items appearing in more and more strange arrangements. Jelly cubes encasing sharp-fanged anglerfish, misshaping eggs the size of my fist emitting a faint glow. Noodles so thin and dark, they look like hair. It became hard to even recognize half the stuff is edible in the first place. I watched the man crack open the gigantic body of a purple spider crab Watched him bite down on the moss-covered mushroom

That spat out clouds of yellow spores with every touch Witnessed him sitting in front of a plate of little squirming black bugs That tried to flee from his spoon as he shoveled them into his moor Giant algae plants shaped and twisted around each other like strands of DNA Needle-covered orange balls that slightly shivered as if breathing The roasted body of some eight-legged animal either the remnants of some freak of nature or several animals stitched together

to create a new abominable shape. Soon I ignored the patron completely and just dropped by to see what kind of absurd ideas the cook had come up with this time. And strangely, no matter how bizarre and abhorrent the food looked, it left me wanting to try it myself, left me hungry and searching for something to fill myself as well.

And then, when I finally returned home to plunder my kitchen, I'd end up unsatisfied. As time passed, my chances to catch a glimpse at the goings on inside the restaurant grew rarer. More and more, the window was blocked, and I was relegated to squeeze my head against the corner in hopes of at least catching a little glance at that day's special. Mint's meat shaped to resemble realistic human heads,

with hair and teeth taken from various animals, a thin glass that emitted a seemingly endless stream of bluish fog, a red soup that followed the motions of the sun. spoon before it ever came into contact, as if driven by some magnetic force. By now, I can't believe that I never noticed anything being wrong with these things when I witnessed them. But back then, I kept telling myself that there existed a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this, that everything I saw were just tricks, manufactured by some creative,

and probably slightly deranged, cooking genius. But this little lie, I kept telling myself, could only get me so far. It was only a matter of time until the strangeness crossed the threshold That's what happened last week Things got a little too weird to ignore And mentally push aside There is something wrong with that place

There is something terrifying About the restaurant downtown Before the day in question I hadn't gotten a clear view into the restaurant for a month Just little hints here and there But never enough to leave me satisfied and on that day, finally, the window was free again. The moment I stepped closer, this joyful excitement I felt turned into a subtle horror.

There was only a single item lying on the table. It looked like the carcass of a large stack at first glance. A four-legged animal was short, reddish-brown fur and dark huge antlers. At second glance, the alterations that had been done to the creature were unmistakable. I say alterations, because I refuse to believe that a thing like this could come out of any natural process. It must have been crafted artificially, maybe taxidermid out of different animals. If so, then the creator of this monstrosity did a perfect job of blending the various parts into one seamless hole. Instead of hooves, the stag was sporting forehands, like those of an ape or some similar primate,

wrinkled and calloused, but hands nonetheless. its face too was not that of a deer. The nose was flat and thin, the mouth large and adorned with human-like lips. Its skin around these parts hairless and flesh-coloured. A large hole had been torn into its side. Broken ribs was sticking out, blackish blood darkened the fur around the open wound.

The man was leaning over the carcass, his mouth stained with the dark red colour of blood as well. Some entrails are hanging between him and the corpse, and with a motion of his head he slurped them down as if they were spaghetti. He had changed completely. His formerly lithe body was now encompassed by layers of fat. His eyes had turned into beady black holes,

almost as if they had retreated into his skull. His clothes, now ill-fitting in a completely different way, had burst in several places, revealing the hairless, greasy, pale skin underneath. He looked less like a man, and more like a giant maggot, the way his neck had swollen to the size of his shoulders, the way his arms barely peaked out of the armour of fat surrounding him.

And then he looked up, looked away from the meal for the first time, and straight at me. There was nothing but a deep and bottomless hunger. Saliva gathered in the corners of his mouth. His gaze wandered up and down my body. He licked his lips. I turned and left. It took some force of will not to run, but I managed to keep walking at a slow and steady pace.

Maybe running would have been an inappropriate response to being looked at like that, but at that moment I was still trying to hold onto reason, was trying to find logical explanations, was trying to laugh all of this off. Maybe I was just confused. Maybe this was a completely different customer. Surely the blind hunger in his eyes wasn't actually targeted at me. But nothing could quench the growing and easy. and fear in the back of my mind.

I didn't want to go back. Didn't want to be forced to look at this creature ever again, but I had to. I just needed to make sure the man was still there, locked in the room. Just one last time. When I returned today, my worst nightmares had come true.

The man was gone. The table was empty. The metal door with the electrical warning sign stood open, leading into a room, and an enticing smell floated through the air towards me. Despite all I had witnessed, I found myself taking a step towards the opening. Before I could take another, something heavy moved in a nearby alley. Some street cat led her to start a scream that was cut short. A moment later, there was a sound of cracking and munching, echoing from the buildings.

This time, I did run. I will not return to this place ever again I will not return to this part of the city ever again I'm even making plans to move far away the scent that drifted out from the open door is still stuck in my nose and no food I touch can satisfy my growing appetite and then there is one detail about tonight

that keeps popping back into my mind right next to the open door somebody had propped up a simple blackboard It read Today is special All you can eat