CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "I Discovered an Amazon Locker that Doesn't Exist" Creepypasta

Episode Date: August 1, 2020

This isn't your average Prime experience. CREEPYPASTA STORY►by RaidensReturn: 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-

From world-wide top-merken to entrepreneurs who net begin, million-verts trust on Shopify, in your winkel, on Instagram, TikTok, and more. All of out one platform. Beheer your products,

bestelling and betaling and betaling, very and easy-vouted. Shopify grew with you with you with, every step of the way. Start today not your gratis-proof-periodo

on Shopify. that is Shopify. combe. healthcare company, I was recently transferred to the New York City branch. I was working in a quiet office in Longview, Washington, tucked into a cozy building complex next to a golf course for the last five years. To me, New York City seemed, well, infinitely vast. The company helped me find a place to live, which, unfortunately, needed to be within a close

proximity to the office. The best I could afford was a small apartment in a shady part of town at the the edges of Queens. I quickly got used to shrieking trains throwing tremors to the floorboards, transient people screaming nonsense at the sides of buildings, dogs barking in the distance, etc. That's really just the tip of the crap-smelling iceberg, but I think you get the picture. My name is Reese. I've been adjusting to my new life in Queens, and despite my constant complaining, it could definitely be worse. I've got running water, the electricity works, mostly, and the plumbing is functional. I've heard horror stories about utilities in the big apple, so I'll take it where I can get it.

One thing I learned quickly about New York City is that this is truly the city that never sleeps. I mean that literally. I've grown accustomed to strange noises throughout the night to the point that I've basically blocked them out. unless it's shots fired in the immediate vicinity. Unfortunately, this also means that anything not bolted down is likely to grow legs during the night. I've had my mail stolen on a couple of times in the first month and two package which were delivered to the apartment lobby,

despite having key car controlled entry in the building, mysteriously never made it into my hands. As your average American that relies way too much on Amazon for delivery of numerous paltry material items, I made the switch to Amazon locker delivery. This proved to be much more effective in protecting my packages from the prying little claws of the New York City underworld. The nearest locker was tucked inside a right aid

just a little past a mile down the road. I didn't have a vehicle off my own and relied on the train to get me to work. I had to hoof it whenever I got that delivered to locker text on my phone. It wasn't catastrophic, but alas, inconvenient.

I was yearning for something a little closer. Two weeks ago, I was finishing up a new purchase on Amazon, a laptop charger and a pen. You know, boring work stuff. Instead of defaulting to the right-aid locker as it always did, I got the option to select a new, closer locker. I lit up at the address, located only three blocks from my apartment.

I chose it as the shipping location, and placed my order, smiling. The locker was curiously named Demos. Something about it tugged at the back of my brain, though. I couldn't sleep well that night. In the dark of my room, I pulled out my phone, as a train rumbled through the night somewhere nearby, sending vibrations through my bed frame.

I quickly did a Google map search of this new locker, Demos, or rather, where Demos was allegedly located. In street view, it looked like some faceless brick buildings and some dead cars parked in the street, an old graffiti spangled alley on one side of the road. Strange, if the locker was there, I wasn't sure where it'd be hiding. There were no shops or anything nearby. You know Amazon though, they might have slapped one down overnight. They can do anything, right?

A few days later, I got the text that my package had been delivered to the locker. For reasons I can't explain, I felt anxious at the notification. It wasn't excitement. It was instead an indistinct dread. After I got home from work, I walked a few blocks to where Dimos should be. Just as Google had predicted, there were some old brick buildings in an alley. A plastic grocery bag lazily tumbled across the street. I checked the fogged out windows in the building on the corner,

but it seemed to be empty inside. The other building's windows were boarded up. I double-checked my phone to make sure I was in the right place. Finally, I grown in frustration and walked back to my crappy apartment. I called Amazon support on the walk back. I explained the situation to the rep on the other end. After a pause, the rep told me she could not find any locker in a system called Demos, and that I should check the spelling.

She could see my order, she could see that it was delivered, but when she checked the location it was delivered to, her computer crashed. Eventually, she offered to resend the same items to another location. I picked the damn right aid. Ugh, wasted time. The next night, I was sitting in front of the TV, watching retro commercials on YouTube. I realized the rabbit hole I was tumbling into and checked on the time. 1.23am. Christ, it was late.

I shut everything down and headed to bed. As if prompted, as soon as all the lights were out, my phone buzzed with a new notification. I hoped it was a text from Jess, one of my co-workers I've been chatting up lately. No, it was a notification text from 262-966. Reminder, your package with two items is ready to be picked up from Amazon Hub Locker, Dimos. Chills. I was filled with a flash of curiosity

and fear all at once. It was Friday, so no work tomorrow. I didn't feel tired. Perhaps a late-night walk was in order. Still, my neighbourhood was no walk in the park, even in broad daylight. At night, it was much more akin to a demilitarized zone. Still, I was too curious to just sleep it off. My heart was fluttering at the anticipation of going on the mission to find the mysterious locker, Dimos. I knew Amazon often installed lockers in 24-hour establishments and sometimes outdoors. If I had just overlooked it the first time and it really existed, there was a chance I could secure the package that night. My laptop was dead and it would be nice to finally charge it again. Before I knew it, I was outside in the humid July air

with a hoodie throwing a shadow over my face. I had sweatpants on despite the warm night and running shoes. I checked my phone. 1.47 a.m. I had anticipated the transient population to be lurking in the shadows, but it seemed dead outside. There were no cars in sight. Florescent orange street lamps slapped spot

lights under the sidewalks and drenched the shadows in a burnt, sickly color. The ambient sounds of the city droned away somewhere in the direction of Manhattan. I didn't waste time. Right away I jogged in the direction of Dimos. Just an average jogger, nothing to see here. But I felt like a damn anomaly. It's not like I was doing anything suspicious. Still, I felt like a standout nonetheless.

Was it because I knew. there was no actual Demos and the mission was foolish? Or was it because, deep down, something about the whole situation was wrong somehow. Either way, I wanted to be there and back, mostly the back part. In fact, pretty quickly, I regretted even heading outdoors and wanted to just go home.

But by this point, I was back at the alleged destination point, the delivery spot, the word of Dimos. I felt compelled to at least take another look around, see if I'd missed anything the first time through. I dug in my surroundings, drab, brick buildings, deceased cars, an alley tattered out with spray paint tags, some plywood covered windows. But this was the night version, so all these things seemed much more imposing and unsettling now. This was the wrong neighbourhood to be kicking around in at this time of night. Behind me, I heard a bottle plinking to the ground, followed by an upturned trash can. I spun on my heels to see a feral cat tear the hell out of there.

Yep, that was enough to see my heartbeat spinning out of my chest again. The street was silent, but I certainly felt like I was not alone there. I could swear the slurred whispers of strange people were oozing out of the shadows between the buildings. But it was probably just my heart. in my ear. I produced my phone and headed towards the graffiti alley with a flashlight turned on. I waded through an ankle-high heap of old newspapers and cardboard waste. It smelled fettered and moldy here like a rotted out basement. I pulled up my sweatshirt to cover my nose. The tangy scent of bum urine penetrated the fabric and made my eyes water.

I then noticed a 90-degree turn at the end of the alley. It was nearly invisible due to the low light and worn state of the brickwork. I peaked around the right to see a heavy-looking steel door painted blue. A sterile yellow LED was perched above the door, shining down upon it like a museum display. Both the door and the light seemed relatively new compared to the dilapidated approach. I hesitated to try the door, of course, but I cast my objections aside. drew a deep breath and tried the door handle. Locked.

Well, that was simple. Time to bloody go. I suddenly realised where I was and wanted absolutely nothing to do with it. I am honestly not sure how I convinced myself to come here in the first place in the wee hours of the morning to try and find a locker that clearly didn't exist.

It was as if I awoke from a fugue state and my rational brain reminded me I needed desperately to go home and sleep it all away. I took a step back to leave and was just turning around when a small yellow keypad illuminated itself on the wall next to the door handle.

On top was a tiny LED screen. Must have been motion activated. Again, I stopped and checked my phone. There was a six-digit locker code in the notification, as there always was. For giggles, I punched the code into the pad. 462-651. A muffled click registered from inside the door.

I dried the handle and it turned with ease. The door slid open effortlessly. Before me now was a long hallway lit with more sterile yellow ceiling lights. The walls and floors were a smooth concrete. A wave of strange familiarity swept over me, making me feel simultaneously nostalgic and uncomfortable at the same time. I felt as if I had been there before, but a long, long time ago. The hallway was at least a few hundred feet long.

It was like being in our corridor under a stadium or behind the scenes at a mall, but there were no doors along the entire length of the space. I reached the end and found another right turn, which this time led to a concrete stairway leading down into the main. darkness. Heavy dread was replaced by heavier dread, but the curiosity remained. I tried the flashlight to see if it would penetrate the bottom of the stairs. I could see a hallway that led into more darkness. Of course, I could also turn and run. I could easily come back here during the daytime tomorrow.

But what difference would that make? A voice in the back of my head reminded me sharply. It would be just as dark in here during the day. day. I took a few deep breaths and steeled myself. I jogged down the stairs and into the hallway with a flashlight on. As I went, I panned on my left and right, seeing open doors on both sides of the dark alley. Above me, a cluster of thick pipes wrapped in silver insulating foam ran the length of the ceiling. I just powered down the hall to the approaching end.

halfway down the hall and must have triggered a motion centre because the entire length suddenly lit up with the same yellow overhead light. The end of the hall was punctuated with another steel door. I opened it and stepped forward into a room built from concrete, the lower half of the walls painted in caution yellow. Along the back wall was a pristine looking bank of Amazon lockers, which were painted a darker shade of navy blue. You've got to be kidding me, I said aloud to nobody in particular.

I approached lockers and saw a decal on the top right corner locker door. Hello, my name is Demos, Amazon.com slash locker. The embedded touchscreen in the locker was displaying the idle graphic. I tapped the screen with my fingertip and it prompted me to enter my six-digit code. Screw me sideways, I guess this is it. I said aloud again. I punched in the code and off to my right,

the largest available locker door popped open with a clunk. Strange? A laptop charger and pen shouldn't be that big. I shuffled over to grab my package and get the hell out of there. To my immediate disappointment,

the locker appeared to be empty. Did they clear it out when they shipped the items to the new locker? Pretty fast, I admit, but Amazon is a vast company. I nearly slammed the locker shut, but before I could follow through with that, I decided to take one last look inside.

I shine my phone flashlight into the space of the open locker, only to find that I couldn't see the back wall. The inside appeared to have greater depth that my flashlight could penetrate, which really doesn't make any sense at all. I crouched down and stuck my arm in as deep as I could. But my fingertips only spayed out into cool, breezy darkness. I put my head into the opening and squinted hard for any type of wall or end point.

And it was then I heard an unnerving sound from deep within the dark. Static. Echoing up from somewhere below, it was like the static you would hear on an old TV set or when your antenna couldn't tune to a particular station. It was faint but definitely there. I felt the same wave of nostalgia and familiarity sweep over me once more, and again it was mixed with that unsettling feeling of dread. Suddenly I lost my balance as if my centre of gravity shifted,

and I pitched forward but through the locker. It was as if I phased through the solid surface and into the wall. I tumbled into darkness. I could see a flash of light where the opening to the locker was spinning away rapidly. I was falling into nothingness. This is how I die. I braced for impact and expected to hit the ground hard, but the impact didn't come.

Then I opened my eyes. After a moment of nauseating disorientation, I found myself laying on my back. and a dingy tan berber. The smell of wet carpet and mildew filled my senses. Sitting up, I noticed a flowery yellow wall treatment papering the room. Off white popcorn ceilings were accentuated with dull yellow fluorescent lights that honed at an unpleasant frequency. And there it was again.

That feeling of all for nostalgia. It was like I'd been there before, but not in a good way. It was like that uncomfortable evening you spent at your distant relative's house for dinner when you really didn't want to, or that fluttery anxiousness of sitting in the dentist's waiting room knowing they were planning to drill. I got up quickly and assessed the situation. I need to get out of here right now, I announced to the empty room. There was an opening to another room on my right, and I headed there first.

My head pounded. I took in deep breaths of the stale air to attempt to stave off total panic. I could see doorless openings toward the rooms, which all looked the same. To my immediate right was the opening for a hallway, which touted the same familiar wallpaper carpet combo. At the end was a dark brown wooden door.

I headed towards the door quickly. Halfway down the hallway, my shoes squished into a wet set. of carpet, which released an altogether nauseating smell like rotten cardboard that filled my nose quickly. I gagged but kept moving. I glanced rapidly into the openings to the other rooms as they approached the closed door, and to my horror, there were seemingly endless halls and rooms, and nearly all identical

but different only in their size, depth and number of doorways. at brown metal wall heaters near the floor, or a blue plastic school chair sitting in the corner or occasionally laying in its side. One room in the distance seemed to have a wooden dresser of some type. There seemed to be large wet spots in various random places in the carpet. Was it this place? I reached the end and flung the wooden door open wildly, confirming I was now entering panic mode. The door smashed into the wall and the handle embedded itself in.

into the drive wall. The next area was another long hallway, like a stale hospital corridor. I saw the same humming fluorescent yellow lights running the length of the ceiling, but these ones buzzed much louder and more terribly than the last ones. The floor here was shiny white tiles speckled with black flecks like French vanilla ice cream. There were many doors in this hallway, but they were all closed. Each door had a brown plaque featuring a large.

letter and number. There didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to the designations. A6, H-22, F-9, etc. When I entered this hallway, the door slammed shut behind me so hard it rattled my bones. I bought my phone out to find there was no service here. My battery was also on its last legs. To conserve power, I turned the phone off. Who knows how long I'd be here. I started trying the door handles, all of which were locked. I tried them all, just to be sure. I was halfway through the hallway when I first heard the sound. It was that distant static again, coming from somewhere,

like a detuned radio or an old TV. There were hints of a voice mixed in, like someone talking, but it was unintelligible. Then the noise of static started getting louder and louder. Soon it was blaring through the hallway, as if being played through an unseen loud speaker. The awful noise was getting so loud, my ear started to throb. I clapped my hands to the sides of my head and ran towards the other end of the hallway. When I reached the unmarked door at the end, I immediately started kicking at the door handle.

A few hard kicks and the door smashed open, sending splinters and shrapnel from the doorframe into the next room. I threw my weight into the door, slamming it shut. It stayed closed miraculously. The static sound was still audible, but now very much muffled by the door. Then, a deep, gurgly voice bubbled out from somewhere in the distance. I didn't reply, but just listened hard. I shouted out into the room. What the hell do you want?

I didn't notice. But I was running already. I tore through several bland yellow rooms. I realized I was back on carpet again, signalled by the thick smell of wet decay. It was getting hard to breathe, but the adrenaline kept me moving. I don't know how many turns I took,

or how far I ran. I could have run a mile through the empty, featureless rooms with yellow wallpaper and brown carpet and sharp, buzzing overhead lights. Finally, I collapsed to my knees. and took deep, stinging breaths. My lungs burned like a brush fire. After I caught my breath, I got back to my feet

and attempted to make further progress into the horrible maze of drab yellow rooms. Then I heard it again. The voice. Reese. Why are you running? I turned around to look behind me, and there, three rooms away,

and partially concealed by an unisoned, open doorway, it was a shadow shape. A human standing at average height and build was peeking around a corner. It was featureless and dark, just like a cut out of paper. The sight lurched me back into a fight or flight mode and I turned again to run. The static sound flared up again and got louder and louder in my ears until it was all I could hear. I am going to die here. It was then I saw a room up ahead that had concrete walls and floors, like the first area I had found before tumbling into Demos Moors. I steered that way and beat feet.

I ran until it felt like all my bones were broken and all my organs were burning into ashes. My tongue was swollen and my eyes stung. Tears streaked down my cheeks and down my neck. I saw a metal door at the end of the hall and I ran with my arms out in front of me. This was the first time I noticed my hands were covered in blood. My body finally decided it wasn't going to work anymore. I tripped and pitched forward, head first into the steel door. I didn't feel the impact as I lost consciousness.

I awoke to a headache to end all headaches. My heartbeat assaulted my ears like a symphony. It was as if I'd been run over by a sanitation truck. for all I knew, maybe I had. I was probably dead a long time ago and that sullen yellow nightmare was hell and that shadow shape was the devil incarnate. I somehow pushed myself into a sitting position

and back against the nearest wall. For what seemed like an hour, I struggled to stay conscious, like waking up from surgery and shaking off the last of the anaesthesia. Finally, I could keep my eyes open long enough, to focus on my surroundings. Bricks. Soggy paper and garbage around my legs.

It was the graffiti alley from last night. It was now early morning as far as I could determine. I couldn't stand, but I dragged my head in the direction of the steel door. There was no door at the end of the alley, just somebody sleeping under a heap of cardboard and the smell of stale urine in my nostrils. I was able to stand eventually, and I drug my pallid ass out of that alleyway. I limped home, every muscle in my body aching and screaming for respite.

I got to my apartment, undressed, took a shower, and collapsed into my bed. I slept for days. I don't know how long, but it was enough that my employer issued an ultimatum for me missing work. I called and explained, but nobody would believe me. My old boss emailed me and suggested I seek help, which was not really very comforting. I kept replaying the events of that night in my head and really just couldn't make any sense of it all. Maybe I have lost my mind. Maybe that was my body telling me I really do need professional help.

I called Amazon to plead with them to explain what happened, and the representative I spoke to escalates my case to some legal team who would be quote, investigating the incident. I haven't heard anything back. I have tried researching the Locker Demos to see if anybody else has encountered such a thing and nothing has come up. I've begun to receive unusual text notifications from Amazon.

Apparently, something new was developed. I didn't order anything. And they sent a photo. If anyone knows what the hell happened, or where I was. Please. Help me.