CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "I die every night for two minutes and eleven seconds" Creepypasta

Starting point is 00:00:01 When I was 13, I died. For two minutes and 11 seconds, my heartbeat stopped and my pulse was gone and I was dead. One second I was racing my bike along the sidewalk and made it turn to the left to shortcut across the road. The next, I stared up at a blank ceiling, wrapped in bandages and wires and tubes, while some machine beat next to me in a steady rhythm. I had no recollection of what happened in between. It didn't take long for this little gap in memory to be filled My father still can't stop telling the story any chance he gets

Starting point is 00:00:37 He tells it during dinner during long car trips during TV commercial breaks He tells it to friends and colleagues and strangers at the bus stop Remember that time you got hit by that car We're in a panic when we got the call They said your heart stopped You were dead you know two minutes and 11 seconds I guess that's his way of coping with a traumatic experience. Two minutes and 11 seconds. Two minutes and 11 seconds. Two minutes and 11 seconds. Two minutes and 11

Starting point is 00:01:06 seconds. It didn't take long for that number to start haunting me. Soon it came for me every night. The dream started a few months after the accident. My body was already on its way to complete recovery. I had left the hospital bed behind and returned home. My leg was still wrapped in a cast and the scars after my torso would never fade, but that was it. It was around this time I found myself waking up at night more and more often, sweating and shivering, a pain enveloping my chest. Soon I grew able to remember the nightmares that preceded these events, or rather the one single nightmare.

Starting point is 00:01:46 It was the same exact dream every night and still is to this day, the same visions, the same sounds, and it always lasts the exact same time. Two minutes and eleven seconds. I know, because as it became a regular occurrence, I started counting along. One second, two seconds, three seconds. The rough asphalt of the road takes in half of my view. My body lies on an orchid angle on the coarse grey material.

Starting point is 00:02:17 Glittering fragments of glass and small smears of red fluid are splattered around me. Four seconds, five seconds, six seconds. people stand around me some shuffle for a better view others just stay frozen in place their eyes wide open the trembling hands squeezed against their lips a blue light flashes

Starting point is 00:02:37 somewhere behind me its presence vaguely visible against the bright sunlight 13 seconds 14 seconds 15 seconds and deep pain ripples through me cold and heavy as if every bit of warmth

Starting point is 00:02:51 slowly bleeds from my body it radiates from my torso up into my neck and my head and my limbs. I wanted to scream, but my lips refused to move. They're slightly open. My tongue hangs out on one side. A thick fluid slowly drips from it to the ground. I want to move, but my muscles don't respond.

Starting point is 00:03:13 I expect the scent of oil and blood to spread in my nose, but I smell nothing. I smell nothing because no air enters my nostrils, because I have stopped breathing. 28, 29, 30. Growling engines, distant sirens, voices, contorted fragments of noise that make less and less sense. Hands touch me, squeeze against my neck and wrists. I can barely make out the sensation, but it is there.

Starting point is 00:03:43 Careful at first, then more and more frantic. Shouts grow louder, more hands, more touches. Shadows fall over me as people draw closer. 55, 56, 57 Someone stabilises my neck, someone grabs a hold of my arm, someone slightly lifts my leg, someone carefully squeezes against my shoulder.

Starting point is 00:04:06 With a gentle, fluid motion, I'm slowly flipped onto my back. The sun sends out its blinding rays, fabric tears as the shirt is removed from my torso. 125, 126, 127. A man kneels over me. his bright orange vest stained with blood. He positions his hand against my chest,

Starting point is 00:04:28 then presses down. My body twitches under the impact like a giant rag doll. Another pump, another. Then a short pause. Then it starts again. Pump, pump, pump, pause. 159. Two minutes, two one.

Starting point is 00:04:46 Pump, pump, pump, pause. It's hard to keep track of the time. The palms hit my chest with a steady. rhythm, but that rhythm doesn't fully match up to the seconds ticking by. I feel like I'm burning, like there is a fire licking over my insides, like thousands of insects burrow into my skin and start tearing out my flesh. 2.6, 2.7, 2.8. Pump, pump, pump, pause.

Starting point is 00:05:13 I stare up at the blue sky, concentrate on the faint white cloud formation drifting past, try to focus on its contours and shapes. anything to keep my mind far away from the next second anything to divert my attention from the moment where the pain reaches this peak 2.9. One of my ribs breaks under the pressure. I want to scream, need to scream, but my body is dead and my lungs are empty and those hands keep grinding and pumping, unrelenting, driving the broken piece of bone deeper and deeper. 2.10. Something jolt to my chest. The first flutter of my heart.

Starting point is 00:05:51 heart muscle. Dots of light dance in front of my pupils. The sunlight disintegrates the remnants of the cloud overhead, shouting voices twisting, roaring, spinning. To 11. And I awake, back in my bed. The pain is still there, dropping, as if those hands are still hammering down on me. For the first few moments, it feels as if my heartbeat might go out again. Cold sweat coats my skin, my muscles tremble, then the sensation fades. Every night, two minutes and 11 seconds. I've talked to doctors about the reoccurring pain, and a few hospital check-ups. There's nothing physically wrong with me, nothing they can find at least. I haven't told anyone about the dream though. This is the first time I put the experience to words. Even telling strangers on the internet feel

Starting point is 00:06:49 shameful and embarrassing. It's one thing to show off the parts of my back where my skin is still twisted and contorted, like some Vikings showing off old battle scars. It's another thing entirely to talk about waking up every night, crying and sobbing. It's another thing

Starting point is 00:07:05 to admit to secretly covering my mattress with newspaper sheets in case I lose control of my bladder again. But I have to talk about it. Something changed. It happened a few days ago. One second, two seconds, three seconds. A woman, a bit older, maybe in a late 60s, thin and tall, dressed in painfully bright mismatching colours, sporting outdated flower patterns, walked along the sidewalk.

Starting point is 00:07:35 She was slightly hunched over, carrying two plastic bags in her hands. She was just another passerby. She was just some random old lady, and she was not supposed to be there. 3.4. 5. I've lived through the dream thousands times. Every little moment has always been the same. Every detail has burned into my mind. Unchanging. Unwavering.

Starting point is 00:08:01 Always the same. This woman was not supposed to be there. She had never been there before. 10.11. 12. She stopped and looked over. 13. 14. 15. She stood there, staring, then began to slowly walk toward the scene of the accident. Her bags swung back and forth in her hands, some blackish fluid dripped from one of them with each step.

Starting point is 00:08:30 55, 56, 57. She stopped at the outer edge of the crowd, half hidden between the wall of people. The first responders grabbed me, as they always do, and gently flipped me onto my back. I couldn't see her anymore from this new position. The dream continued as it always had. The hand squeezed down on my chest, the clouds drifted across the sky. My rib broke and my heart fluttered the life and I woke up. Everything just as it always was.

Starting point is 00:09:02 Except for that woman. She shouldn't have been there. The next night she was back. This time she stood in the centre of the crowd on the very start. I could see how garish she looked. Her makeup had been painted thick. over her aging face. White glittering powder covered her cheeks.

Starting point is 00:09:21 Her lips were smeared with gleaming red lipstick to the point that they look like wax replicas. Her eyes were encircled with dark violet rings of shade. The face beneath a grotesque mask of makeup was inhumanly still. No twitch of a muscle, no flare of a nostril. She didn't even seem to blink. She just stood there, staring down at me.

Starting point is 00:09:44 Her pupils never shifted away. When I was flipped onto my back, she drifted closer, towering in the corner of my vision. The seconds ticked down, the pain grew worse, the palms hit my chest. Pomp, pump, pump, pause. Her body tensed in rhythm to the resuscitation. Her thin bony fingers tightened to shaking fists, then opened up again. Pomp, pump, pump, pause. 2.9, 2.10, to 11.

Starting point is 00:10:15 When I woke up, I have expected to see her still standing there, somewhere in the darkness of my room. Of course, she was gone, along with the rest of the dream. I was alone with my pain and my tears, and my shame. She'd returned the night after. This time, she stood even closer, as close as she was able to get. Other members of the crowd slightly leaned away from her, as if she was emitting a disgusting smell. She didn't react, didn't seem to register anything besides me, as if all these other people weren't even there in the first place. 55, 56, 57.

Starting point is 00:10:58 The woman tried to step closer the moment I was turning my back. One of the first responders stepped into a path and pushed the back. Pump, pump, pump, pause. 133, 134, 135. The pain welled up and grew deeper, and the woman. was still there. Her lengthy body twisting to the left and to the right, her fingers twitching in rhythm to those palms squeezing down. Pomp, pump, pump, pause. 149, 150, 151. The moment of the worst pain was quickly approaching. She tried to push closer once more, was repelled a second time.

Starting point is 00:11:38 2.4, 2.2.6, 2.7. My eyes drifted to the cloud above. The worst pain was coming. Just three more seconds, two more seconds. Pomp, pump, pump, pause. 2-8, 2-9. Here it was. The hand would squeeze down and my rib would break and my body would go up in flames and... 2.10 to 11.

Starting point is 00:12:04 The hand didn't return. My rib didn't break. My heart didn't start beating again. 212, 2.13. The open palm hovered just above my chest, about to push down. A wrinkly set of fingers gripped its wrist. The woman had managed to push into the circle of first responders and grabbed the man just as he was about to administer the last life-giving thrust.

Starting point is 00:12:31 Nails bit into flesh. She tore him backwards. He screamed. 2.18. 2.19. Somebody else rushed to my side. Another set of hands found my chest, began to push frantically and struggled to find the right rhythm. 223, 224

Starting point is 00:12:47 Something inside me slipped further and further away A grey shade drifted over the world 225 The woman was still there Trying to get this new person too But the others held her back And at 226 the hands pressed against my chest Faster and faster

Starting point is 00:13:08 And the shouts grew louder And 227 and closer together When somebody else arrived A second, 228 set of hands joining the first, and a rib, 229, broke, and another, they pumped and, 2.30, screamed, and 231, 232, 230. And then I woke up. My body twitched on the mattress, convulsing. I was frozen from the vicious cramps tearing their way through me.

Starting point is 00:13:37 I tried to scream, but my jaw just inched open for a second, and then bit down with all might as the next cramp hit me. My tongue got caught between my teeth, the taste of blood spread, my stomach cramped and something was pushed up my throat. With a desperate motion, I threw myself to the side. Somehow I had gathered enough force to fool myself off the side of my bed. My forehead slammed against the edge of my night table. My vision blurred. I crashed to the ground, unable to dampen the fall in any way.

Starting point is 00:14:09 At least I wouldn't suffocate to my own vomit in this new position. I lay there for minutes. until the worse of the pain slowly receded. That was the last time I slept. Fear of what had happened kept me awake throughout the next night. A pack of caffeine pills got me through the next one after. Now I'm reaching my limit. I feel myself slipping, feel myself drifting off.

Starting point is 00:14:37 I won't be able to stay conscious for much longer. Dark spidery dots crawl in the corner of my vision. My head feels like it is feeling. filled with cotton, my eyes flutter close and he gets harder and harder to open them back up. Soon I will sleep. Soon I will dream. Soon I will die again. But two minutes and eleven seconds. Or maybe. Forever.

CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "I die every night for two minutes and eleven seconds" Creepypasta

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