CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "I collect rare organs" Creepypasta

Episode Date: August 13, 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►Artem Chebokha: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/yb...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-

You can't call me at work. This is highly unprofessional, I said. I'm sorry, he said. But I got something special, never seen anything like it. Angel wasn't much for hyperbole. He'd done this for years. If he said he'd never seen anything like it and he's calling me at work about it,

it must be special. I'm listening. I got a new source. They have something amazing. Green? Of course, that's what you pay me for. I wouldn't risk it. I nodded. I'd never had a problem working with Angel before, and he was usually great at proving his sources. I'm a collector, not a monster. What do you have? Honestly, I don't have the slightest idea, but I'll put my ponytail you'll love it. That, if anything, was interesting. Not the ponytail, but the often.

I've always had an interest in the macab. I feel an amazing sense of control when people talk to me or visit my house, not knowing what I keep in the dark collection room. It makes me feel like I'm stronger and smarter, like a fox amongst chickens, confidently strutting among them. It brings me the confidence I need to do my job, and it earns me the money to support my lavish lifestyle. I've been collecting for years. It started with leftovers and vestigial parts, milk teeth and tonsils, just these useless little things that were thrown away. A discarded umbilical cord was my first setup, and when I got my parasitic twin, I was ecstatic. It was all supposed to be discarded and thrown away, but to me it turned into a wonderful collection.

Over the past 15 years, I've expanded into two rooms, shelf after shelf of discarded organs and enough bones to construct a complete human skeleton from dozens of people. I have six different human hearts, three brains, eight pairs of eyes. Organs who couldn't or wouldn't be donated. Some from the young, some from the old, some healthy, some sick, some disfigured. I prefer the latter. They make for more interesting pieces. But they have to be green. By that I mean no grave-robbing, no illegal harvesting, nothing unethical,

either willing or dead, and nothing marked for donation. If someone needs that heart, I don't want it. But a pair of eyes with the hetochromia from someone who peacefully passed, I have a place for those. I'd honour those. Maybe get a little rotating plightful. form. I didn't just want to have volumes of organs though. I wanted variety and most of all. Rarity. I worked with a few doctors and morticians over the years, but most was squeamish and uncomfortable.

I could rarely get anything, not mention anything fresh. But a few years ago, I started talking to Angel. Angel works exclusively online. I know he has a vast contact network, but he works mostly in North America, mostly the East Coast, but sometimes in the Midwest. I know he has certain illegal dealings, especially in the high-end wine trade, but he always played it straight with me. He has the proper documentation and can prove to me not only that the organ is what it is, but that the patient is either passed, unharmed or consenting. Green As I say it out loud, it sounds so brutal.

That's not what this is about. This is about control, and that delicious warmth in my chest. It feels like being Clark Kent, knowing that all that stands between you and the complete ruin of everyone around you is social convention, mercy, and a pair of glasses. I got the big S right there. My trophies. That day when Angel called me, I had no idea what to expect.

So, when I got an email with 20 attached images, my heart was racing. I grabbed a glass of dry wine, dimmed the light, and spun my chair around. It was an unknown patient, passed from blunt force trauma, possibly some kind of traffic accident. No one had claimed a body.

No one seemed to know who they were. But this person, this anonymous nobody, had some really strange features. During the autopsy, Angel's contact reached out to see if they were interested in some lovingly named leftovers. And the pictures they showed me.

Well, it gave me the shivers. I had no idea. what I was looking at. Wonderful. It looked like a human organ, but it was either smoke damaged or almost fermented. Less than six hours out of the body and almost completely black. It looked like it was wrapped in some sort of seaweed with little barbs holding it all together. I had no idea what I was looking at and I was already salivating over it.

salivating over it. This was going to be preserved and given a proper placing for sure. They say this is a second heart, the email read, a piggyback heart, a growth added on top of regular heart to help combat heart disease, but I've never seen anything like it. Those are usually added surgically. This is organic. It has no name. My contact wants to study it, but they're willing to send it off once they've done preliminary scans.

Not going to lie, this will cost you. It is not damaged, eucalyptus fresh, green as grass. I have to admit, this was a unique find, as close to mint as I could get. I wanted to know all about it, and I wanted to have this... This trophy. It deserved admiration. I didn't even try to play it cool. I knew Angel wouldn't try to rip me off.

I just asked him to name his price. Angel got back to me the next day. He hired a courier and assured me the package to be delivered within 36 hours. He sent me more pictures, along with a few links to the accident. Some guy in a raincoat hit by a truck didn't look like much.

Angel didn't want to say too much as to not reveal his sources, but it looked legitimate. For an entire day, I was like a kid waiting to open a Christmas present. A genuine, unique type of organ in my collection. I had a few rarities. But this, this was different. This could be something new.

This would elevate me one step over the other collectors. Of course there are others. What's the point of a collection if you can't brag about it? When I got home there was this nervous 20-something outside my door tapping her foot She just handed a cooler over

And ran No confirmation if I was the right person No code word No notification Nothing Angel usually has more professional people Getting a delivery from sketchy people

Makes you look sketchy in turn, you know I brought it in and opened it up I prepared myself and cut the foam open. Still ice-cold, with vacuum packaging, marked with hatchet farmer,

like most of angels' deliveries. Can't miss it with that icy blue plastic wrapper. It's a pain to open, though. I put on my gloves and started preparing the preservative jar. I had a few jars that would work while I got something fancier for the showroom. Even though I'd done this literally hundreds of times,

I was visibly nervous. My hands were shaking. When I cut the bag open and reached in to grab the organ, I immediately felt a sting on the tip of my finger. The barbs were sharp. Bringing it out onto the light, I finally got a better view of it. The thing was bigger than my fist. This was not just a piggyback heart.

This thing was an entire organ in and of itself. It was a dark hazelnut brown with black veins, some sort of dark green skin flaps covering up the edges. Part of it had these sharp barbs, some sort of keratin. I'd never seen anything like it. I could tell that it had a structure similar to a human heart though. It had clear connections to the pulmonary artery, but with just a quick look, it looked more like a dragon fruit.

It was glorious. I couldn't wait to find out more about it. I gently placed it in the preservative, trying not to prick my fingers again. I was very pleased. My finger hurt a little, though. I spent hours in my lounge chair just looking up at the thing in the dim light of my collection,

a mild-till spotlight, casting a sharp contrast. Even with a temporary representation, serve jar, I had it on a rotating platform so I could see it from every angle. I still couldn't tell what was the right orientation. What was the front and back? It was impossible to tell. It barely looked like, well, anything. I fell asleep in that chair, waking up just past midnight. I shut the lights off and got ready for bed. I didn't even think about the ache in my fingertip. where the barb had punctured my skin. I fell in and out of sleep all night.

I had a fever, and by morning I didn't know what was real and what wasn't. I had gotten up to use the bathroom a dozen times, and I was sweating buckets. The sheets were sticking to my body, and I was drooling like an idiot. My feet were wet from sweat, leaving stains across the floor. I barely had the energy to stand, and my balance was. kept failing me, to the point where I truly felt alive when I was getting up from the toilet and fell over. My warm cheeks against the cold bathroom tile was the greatest thing I'd felt in years.

I managed to crawl into the kitchen. I called in sick for the first time in years and fell asleep, leaning against the kitchen island. I kept blinking in and out of consciousness. I probably sat there for a few hours. I woke up with this big chemical-smelling puddle under me and my robe was covered in mucus. I tried to call for help, but I was too weak to hold the phone.

I just remember smearing goss across the screen and the face recognition just refused to work. I couldn't get a fingerprint either. I sat there all morning, just trying to muster the strength to move. I'd bouts of panic, thinking I might not ever recover, that this would be it. I would feel my pulse hammering and I could physically feel my heart moving.

Despite my body giving up, my heart was as strong as ever. A bit too strong it felt like, it hurt like hell. I managed to get some water from the tap, but I couldn't keep it down. I kept slipping and falling over, bruising my knees and elbows.

It was a goddamn miracle that I didn't crack my head, open. I woke up on the kitchen floor some time in the afternoon. The sky was grey outside and I could hear rain smatter against the windows. I managed to sit back up and grab some orange juice from the fridge. Just getting back up on my legs was exhausting and I found myself wheezing for air. Sitting there chugging a jug of orange juice, all I thought was about getting through this. My head was starting to clear, but my chest still felt weird. I hadn't even noticed my finger.

The entire fingertip was just one big boil that had burst sometime during the day. I managed to stumble into the shower and dump all clothes into a pile. I was covered in cuts, bruises, and these big, discolored circles on my legs. I looked about as good as I felt, but at the last, least I was back in my legs, shaky legs, but still. There were still smattering against my window, but it sounded more intense. I didn't even think about it at first. I was just concentrating on staying upright. I'd cleaned the mess in the kitchen once I felt better. This was probably just some temporary thing that needed to get out of my system, food sickness or some kind of bug.

I didn't even think about my latest collection piece. I keep those two lives very separate. By the time I stepped out of the shower and into a fresh robe, I kept having these flashes. It was as if the lights were turning on and off. It took me a few seconds to realize it was coming from the window. Looking out, my breath stopped. Something was moving past the window,

casting a long shadow across the floor. floor. Then something else moved again and again, big shadows whoosh past the window, with a large shadows making the entire room blink. I took a step closer, blinking. For a while, I couldn't see them. It was as if they were there, and at the same time they weren't. But when they were there, they were there in horrifying detail. They were the size of large dogs, These pale, winged, six-fingered beast, round, beady eyes reflecting what little light slipped between the clouds. Like insects flocking to a lamp, they swarmed around my windows, fighting to get a look

at me. Carefully, they tried to pull at the window frames, probing for a weakness, a way in. I just stood there, looking at them. It felt like my heart was about to cramp. one of them clung to the window staring at me unblinking i couldn't comprehend it i just closed my eyes and started hitting my head over and over like trying to be the image out of my skull i groaned in frustration and felt my pulse rise when i finally opened my eyes again they were gone i slowly backed away from the window as if you were just as if you were gone i slowly backed away from the window as if trying not to knock over a house of cards. As my heart snagged on something, a barbed pain shot through my lungs. At the edge of every heartbeat, they came back into view, blinking in and out of existence. One moment, all I heard was rain. The next they were clawing themselves

in. They were there, and at the same time, they weren't. I needed help, but my phone had run out of battery. I splashed my face with cold water and stepped away to check in my collection. I had to get a closer look at this mystery organ. There was kinship there, one sick heart to another. It was oozing out of the jar. The preservatives had turned a solid blue and the organ had swelled. It had doubled in size, and the little barbs had turned long and soft, like tendrils. But the strangest thing was what it had done to the rest of my collection. The other jars were also swelling, some preservatives turning blue, cracking the glass and dripping onto the floor. As my pulse rose and fell seemingly at random, I could see flashes of the organ moving.

One second it was trying to break out of the jar, the next it was just sitting there. Much like the creatures outside, it was both happening. and not at the same time. My head was flashing hot and cold, and I could feel my legs buckling. Maybe it was all just a fever. Maybe nothing was wrong. Maybe I was still on the cool bathroom floor. The warmth and cold that pulsed to my head made it hard to stay upright.

The floor felt crooked, but I think it might have just been me. I hurried back to my living room. For a moment, it was all quiet. Then, a torrent of sounds, faces, scratching claws and leathery wings slammed against the windows. Then, a heartbeat later, all quiet. Over and over again. It was as if another world tried to beat itself into my mind. Two realities trying to fit into my head at once.

Slamming, scratching, screeching. It could go either way. It felt like a part of me was balancing on the edge of a knife, trying to fall one direction or the other, screech, scratch, slamming against the windows with hopeless abandon. But there was another noise. A voice. Hello?

I stepped into the hallway. I could see the shadows from the window behind me, come and go with my irregular heartbeat. But there was a strange metallic noise coming from the front door. I turned the corner. There was something standing in my hallway, and a moment later, it wasn't. My door was open and also broken, hanging loose from the bottom hinge. A dark, towering creature.

It was there and not, large enough that it had to tilt its head to stand upright. With its impossibly long arms and fingers, he held a simple paper bag dripping with blood. Then he was gone. My breathing slowed. I just stood there trying to calm down. Everything was fine. Door closed, gentle rain tapping at my windows. Then the paper bag was held up against my face.

The creature was looming over me. The winged beasts outside were going crazy. Give him what he wants. A muffled voice from inside the bag pleaded. He just wanted back. I fell backwards, crawling desperately. My sweaty hand slipped on the hardwood floor, scratching my palms and losing traction. It took the creature no more than two steps to catch up to me, holding the bag out towards

me. It's not yours to keep, the bag screamed. You got your own. There was no doubt in my mind. Forcing myself to stand, I crashed into my collection. room, knocking over jars and trophy cases. Little boxes of teeth, little stands of mummified fetuses. The jar with a strange organ had cracked, leaking a blue thick fluid onto the floor. It was a mess. It was all just a big, disgusting, chemical mess. I grabbed the organ,

feeling the soft barbs, little tendrils tickling my arm. I stepped back to the large creature and held out the organ. It turned its bag inside out as something soft splattered onto the floor, something meaty and human, or with a ponytail, a decapitated head,

trying to breathe, opening and closing its mouth like a trout. I dropped the organ in the bag. The next moment, I was alone. A broken collection, formling and alcohol running rampant over the floor,

my feet barely avoiding the broken glass. And just outside, the rain gently tapped against my window. I haven't experienced anything like it since. The floor wasn't crooked and the door was fine. No scratches on the windows, no blood stains, no nothing. And still, the organ is gone. I haven't been able to get back in contact with Angel. It's like a line was cut

And I haven't heard from him since Something must have happened I have my suspicions But I don't think I can handle that path just yet It still feels like I'm one bad thought away From stepping back into that dark world Like the winged creatures are still looking for a way in I was sick for days afterwards

And I looked awful I've since contacted a medical professional They have found some Irregularities with my pulse And I'm waiting for X-ray results I don't want to sound too alarmed The doctor brought in three other people to consult with I know this story doesn't make me sound all too sympathetic

I'm no saint and to a lot of people I guess I come off as a bit of a creep But if you can just put that aside for a bit and think of me as a human, then please, pray that the results are normal.