CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "I discovered my classmate's YouTube Channel and I think something horrible happened" Creepypasta

Episode Date: August 10, 2021

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by BW_Sharp: 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-

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combe. I'm just to Amsterdam, eh? Why on? For the maidses. They're there two-hour faster. Doy. To go. To Amsterdam? With Eurocity direct, though?

16 times per day from out Brussels and in two-hour. Now, from 19 euro in place of 25. Book you tickets on NMBS International.com. I've known Darren my whole life, but never actually known him. I could blame it on him being a quiet kid, but I can't be sure that's true. As, I've never spoken to him enough to know if he actually is that quiet, or if he is simply,

never been given the chance to speak. I feel guilty for that now. Darren is in every one of my elementary class photos. His name has been on the signing sheet for almost every high school class I've overtaken. He's been a constant in my life. Yet, I could hardly tell you the first thing about him. Darren was picked on in school, but he wasn't bullied in the cruel, concerted way that people think of when they think bullied kid.

Sure, occasion. Sure, occasionally one of the meaner kids would spit some teasing off-handed remark his way, but it was what everyone else did to him that was especially cruel. Darren was utterly ignored. Not just by mean kids pretending not to see him, but by everyone constantly. He was practically ignored right out of existence. Maybe it was that Darren clearly came from a poor family, or greasy hair and acne atop his skinny frame.

Whatever the reason, Darren was a school pariah, his excommunication from the rest of us, eventually developing into more of a tradition than anything. Everyone knew not to talk to Darren, and at some point he learned to stop trying to talk to us. He was never spoken to at recess in elementary school, never approached at lunch and middle school, never acknowledged in the hallways of a high school. Darren didn't exist. This trend continued for as long as I knew him. Even the teachers seemed to be in on it. He was never called on to answer questions or present in front of a class. Darren never got his name called during a group reading assignment.

Sometimes I would go days without even seeing him, despite his perfect attendance. I think my mind had been trained over the years to see Darren as even less than an other, as simply empty space. All it took was the distance learning forced on a space. by the pandemic for my mind to have dumped all thoughts of him entirely. It was by sheer luck that I came across Darren's YouTube channel. My school was a bit late to the whole distance learning thing, but all my classes are online now and the amount of time I'd sunken into YouTube

had correspondingly skyrocketed. My parents can't tell the difference between the sound of YouTube videos and the sound of my class lectures, so I developed a habit of spending hours each day drifting around between recommended videos and random searches, all were my parents beamed with pride over my studiousness. I'll admit, I felt a bit guilty about it, but not enough to stop. My most recent obsession was interviews.

They felt like an informative, and therefore not time wasting, way to entertain myself. It started with interviews with cast members from movies I like, before I branched out to looking up all kinds of distinguished people I would never otherwise get to meet. It was fun to key in a name, add the word interview and scroll search results, looking for obscure or interesting videos. Actors, scientists, conspiracy theorists, serial killers, war veterans, I loved it all. A couple months ago, I finally got around to watching Black Swan

and I've been looking for interviews with Darren Aronofsky. As I scrolled to the generic Hollywood interviews and explanations to the plot, Mother, I noticed the channel called Dialogs with Darren. I clicked without even thinking. The video I'd opened was titled Dialogs with Darren, Episode 2, Mooky. It began to play, and, after a moment of a maze disbelief, I realized the bony face filling the frame and staring back. at me, was Darren. His features were lit only by the pale light of his computer screen

and he was even skinnier than I remembered him, with greasy black curls that had grown to shoulder length and dark eyes that were watery and fallon. The camera he was using was clearly low-end, but even despite the poor lighting and terrible video fidelity, I was certain it was Darren. Darren appeared to be set up in a dark, cluttered bedroom. I could just make out an unmade bed with no sheet on it behind him, and various pizza and microwave meal boxes lit it around his floor and shelves. Darren was sitting on a desk chair to the left of the screen, an empty chair sat behind him to the right.

Both chairs were angled towards the camera and eerily lit by the only illumination in the room, Darren's computer screen. The empty chair was one of this metal and plastic moulded chairs you see at schools, and I wondered if you had stolen it. After another quick camera adjustment, Darren rolled back in his chair so that he was flush with a vacant one, scoched a bit off to the side, and began a stuttery introduction of himself in a nervous, fake television host voice. As he spoke, it occurred to me that until that moment, I had no idea what Darren's voice sounded like. Uh, hi, this is Dialogues with Darren again.

Today I got another interview with Muki, who you might remember from our first episode. We don't have a ton of time, so without any more delay, let's go ahead and dive right in. Before we pick up, can you give us a quick reintroduction, Mookiei? I glanced down at the video info. His channel had zero subscribers. This video had one view and no likes or comments. It appeared that I was the first person to have seen it. I glanced back of the video and grimaced in confusion.

Darren appeared to be nodded along to something and was looking intently towards the empty chair, as though respectfully permitting someone to speak. After a moment, he looked back towards the camera. Well, I guess I can't disagree with that. So, tell me, Muky, if you weren't an imaginary friend, what other kind of work would you want to do?

Again, he looked towards the chair. and nodded along to silence. But, after his last comment, everything clicked. Darren had made a kind of joke channel. The product of boredom, maybe the hope of being recognised for once, even if just by strangers online.

It looked like he was already living a small, cramped life at home. Maybe this was just how he was overcoming the same, stifling listlessness felt by most people during the shutdown. As he began to ask his game, guest a follow-up question about aspirations for the future. I clicked out to the video and over it to his channel homepage. There were only three videos uploaded so far. Dialogs with Darren Mookie. Dialogs with Darren Mookiee. And Dialogs with Darren, Mookiee part two. And Dialogs

with Darren, the Watcher. All of them ranging from four to six minutes in length. None of the videos had more than one view or any comments. The channel was wholly undiscovered. Curious, I clicked on the The Watcher video. It started the same way as the last. A quick, awkward introduction in his dark, messy room, the scooching of his chair away from and to the side of the screen, and then the one-way conversation with the empty space above the other chair.

Darren, like any quality host, dove right into the questions. So, uh, I think we should start with the most obvious one. Why do you watch people? He resumed nodding and nothing in the dark of the silent room, brightened only by his computer screen. He seemed tenser than in the mooky video. His features more rigid and his posture bunched up, like someone attempting to look over the edge of a cliff without falling. After a moment, he spoke again.

Well, sure, but, uh, how do you decide which people? Silence and nodding. and what happens, you know, if they wake up? This time, a longer silence and more nodding. Though I felt a trickle of cold run through me as Darren's face turned convincingly fearful. The imaginary friend thing had been comedic and goofy, but this one creeped me out.

And from the worried look in his eyes, Darren was doing a good job of appearing to be creeped out too. After about a minute of respectfully nodding nothing and waiting. Darren spoke once more, still in his wavering imitation of a television host. Well, uh, that's good to know, I suppose. For our viewers at home, you heard it. It's always better to just keep your eyes closed. For a moment, the screen flickered with static, and the imagery focused. Maybe it was in my head, but in that moment I could have sworn the empty chair had moved. Not much, maybe just an inch or so back, but when I stray in my eyes,

it looked slightly further from Darren's chair than it had been. That or his attempt at YouTube creepiness was getting to me. Amused, I tried myself and clicked back to his channel to hit the button to subscribe to all notifications. Darren's invisible creature interview stick was odd, but I felt that maybe tuning in and checking out his videos would, in some way, make a for the fact that I, like everyone else, has spent the last decade ignoring him into oblivion, leaving him with nobody to talk to, except his imaginary friends.

Two days later, I got my first notification that Dialogue with Darren has posted a new video, entitled, Dialogs with Darren, Juniper Smith. I waited until the evening and pulled out my phone in bed to watch it before going to sleep. It was the same deal as before, But more than with his other videos, I found Darren's one-way discussion fascinating, as I tried to piece together what he imagined the other side of his conversation to be. Thank you so much for, uh, coming on today, Miss Smith. I hope it is okay to say, but, uh, the dress is fantastic.

So, jumping right in. I, uh, I don't want to be rude, but I think most people would be curious. How did you pass away? Darren said the last part with cautious politeness, as though he was asking someone terminally ill how much time they had left. Silence and respectful nodding. I'm so sorry to hear that. Was anyone able to figure out what happened? Darren seemed choked up by the silence that followed. That's, uh...

Well, that's awful. I'm so sorry, he croaked emotionally. Well, what has happened since then? This was followed by an unusually long silence of about three minutes, as Darren simply nodded towards the empty space next to him. I spent the time studying the empty chair, trying to detect even the slightest hint of something supernatural. But I couldn't discern anything beyond Darren, occasionally muttering, uh-huh, or an I-see, to respectfully show his imaginary guest that they simply had his attention. I practically had my nose pressed my phone screen watching the shadows of Darren's bedroom

when his sudden speech made me start. Well, that's great. Really? Helping little girls like that? It can't be easy after what happened to you, but you do it and that's so great. I smiled, wondering how he came up with these stories and whether there was a word document somewhere on his computer that had the other side of these scripts written on it. I wanted to read them if so

Okay, yes Yeah, that's right Well, thank you for coming on And thank you very much again For sharing your experiences Miss Smith I think that's all our time for today But I wish you the best

And please take care And with that Darren smiled meekly towards a chair next to him Turned and scooped his own chair Back up towards his computer And as his hand reached out of frame The video ended YouTube's up-next loading screen came on with the rest of Muky Bar 2

that I hadn't watched, queued up to play in a few seconds. Instead, I closed the app, laid back in bed, and thought about the interview I just watched. I decided that when school was back in regular session in my district, I was going to make a point to go and talk to Darren. I couldn't really fathom why I never had, other than because no one else did. I resolved to tell him,

Hi, ask him how his pandemic went, see how he's doing. I don't think I would mention his YouTube channel, but I would at least make an attempt to give him someone to talk to, someone that could actually respond when he asked a question. Satisfied with my resolve, I turned over and drifted to sleep. That night, I dreamt I was laying in an unfamiliar bed, surrounded by an unnatural smoky darkness. I tried to get up, but my muscles didn't have the power to move,

no matter how hard I wield them. I darted my eyes around, trying to pierce the darkness, hoping to find a clue as to where I was. As I strain my eyes against the immobility of my head, I slowly became aware of a quiet, ragged wheezing coming from the right side of my bed above me. Instinctively, I closed my eyes tight, as if somehow that would protect me

from whatever was standing over me, make it go away. I was braced for the worst, but after a few tense moments, wheezing stopped. I kept my eyes scrunched closed for it felt like in eternity, but the room stayed silent.

My heart rate eased back to normal as I calmed to my mind. At last, I felt secure enough to open my eyelids and glanced with my eyes to my right. There, obscured by the blur of my peripheral vision, was a set of massive, vainy, orange eyes, inches from my face, staring with hungry fixation.

Medallion-sized pupils began to narrow, and the mattress creaked as whatever the bulbous eyes belonged to began to lean closer. I heard another ragged, wet wheeze from the thing an inch away from my ear, and just as I felt a panic scream well up in my throat. I awoke. I was upright in bed, sweating. my heartbeat racing in my ears. I scanned the room frantically, but there was nothing. Just the ordinary muted darkness of a suburban home at 3 a.m. After another hour of self-soothing, I went back to sleep,

and by the time I rose the next morning, the whole ordeal felt as though it had never even happened. I continued to watch Darren's videos as they rolled in. He posted unpredictably, sometimes once a day, sometimes once a week. But whenever I got the alert, I'd queue it up, watch the video before bed. Like it, then await the next one. It was by far the weirdest channel I'd found on YouTube.

His interviewees came to comprise of an interesting cast of characters that included the Annette Twins, for whom he brought in a second chair similarly borrowed from a dining table set, something he called the Rog that didn't appear to answer any of his questions despite his polite prodding. and the grey man, who, despite the sinister name, was a delightful guest who caused Darren to break his composure with gleeful laughter throughout the interview. Uh, wait, uh, so you mean that you can be anywhere? Silence, interrupted by unexpected laughter from Darren.

Oh, so everything's grey? He asked, regaining himself a moment before bursting back into pitchy laughter, too contagious for even me to resist, chucklea. along with. Well, I guess no one can accuse you of being without talent. He managed to get out from between his outbursts, wiping a tear from his eye. Looking down at the video info, I realised that the grey man was the first video for someone to see that wasn't me. The view counter read, three. I smiled to myself in the dark of my bedroom. Well, shoot, Darren. Looks like you're finally getting some attention. And with that, I hit like on the video. plugged my phone in and went to sleep.

After the Grey Man, a couple of weeks went by before Dialogs with Darren showed any more activity. Then, and around midnight on Friday, while lazily browsing Netflix, my phone screen lit up with an alert. Dialogs with Darren is starting its first live video. Tune in. Having nothing better to do

and intrigued with seeing Darren do his first live act, I quietly shut my bedroom door, flopped under bed and opened the YouTube app on my phone. The title was, Dialogues with Darren, no name available, live. The video was especially grainy this time. I wasn't surprised that Darren didn't have the best internet connection

given the quality of his camera and the appearance of his cramped room in the videos I had seen thus far. But as the pixels coalesced into something discernible, the scene largely resembled the same setup I was used to. Darren was oriented on the left side of the screen. The empty school chair was stationed on the right. Darren had already done his typical brief intro and was mid-sentence as the audio popped in. And speaking with us, uh, live today, a first for the show.

So thanks, those who have joined us. And let's get to some questions with our guest. Darren's eyes were fixated upwards above the empty seat, as though something towered above him. He appeared to be shivering, though I couldn't tell if it was the streaming quality, or if a draft in the room was making him cold. So, uh, you're the first to reach out to contact me first. Let's start with that. How did you hear about the show? Then, for the first time in any of Darren's videos, I heard a response.

A sound like the blade of a butcher knife being scraped over steel broke the silence. The sound was pitchy and inconsistent, resonating as though it was simultaneously right in my ears and echoing from far away. I winced and attempted to turn the volume down, but the metallic tones remained just as loud as if I had done nothing. Darren appeared pained, but otherwise determined to politely carry on and continue to maintain his shaky host persona. Uh, yeah, that's certainly not what I expected, he said, leaving me wondering what the the answer had been. And might I ask, how... The metallic noise returned, cutting off Darren. His face had turned from a look of pain to a look of agony. Uh, no, I'm sorry. Usually this works with me, asking the guests,

uh, questions, and, uh... Again, the terrible scraping responded. I winced and tried to escape it by turning my phone to mute. But even, as the no speaker of I got flashed my phone screen while I desperately squeezed the volume button down, the noise continued, as loud as if I'd done nothing. I was just about to swipe out of the video to make it stop when I noticed that Darren was talking again on the live feed. I couldn't hear his voice with the volume off. He looked panic and it shifted his body to be as far from the empty chair as possible.

Concerned, I hurriedly turned my volume back up. Uh, oh, well, of course I invited you. You have to invite somebody to be, to be on the show. How does that mean it's my fault? Darren's voice was desperate, the harsh metallic noise resonant in response, and Darren's voice somehow turned even paler with childlike despair. No, no, that's not, not true. I don't want to talk to you anymore.

I want you to go away. seemed to be attempting to get up from his chair, but couldn't. It looked as if someone had placed an invisible weight across his narrow shoulders, too heavy for him to stand up beneath. The lie feed began to pixelate, making it difficult to make out what was happening in the room through the distortion. And then, for the one and only time, the terrible, metallic scraping, became words to me. I felt like my ears were seeing the hidden picture in an abstract image and, for just a moment,

I understood through the pain in my eardrums what he was saying to him. Hush, it's okay. You'll talk with me for now. For always, talk with me. I heard Darren let out a scream that started naturally before being digitally distorted by the worsening feed. The picture pixelated further before going black. The audio cut off.

And then, in an instant, everything popped back into focus again, as if nothing I'd just seen had transpired. Darren's messy, dim room was empty. Two chairs sat side by side, unoccupied, lit in the white-blue glow of the computer screen. I stared in disbelief at the now silent live feed, and then, abruptly, it ended. That was the end. I called the police at night and told them what happened, trying not to sound insane. I told them that Darren had disappeared

during a live YouTube feed that I had heard a scream and I begged them to do a wellness check. They took down the information but I don't think anything came of it. I could tell from the disingenuous tone of the officer on the phone that she thought the whole thing was some prank

by a couple of wannabe YouTube stars or something. It didn't help that when I went back to his YouTube page the next day the account had been taken down. I contacted YouTube support to try and find out what had happened. But, well, you probably can guess how helpful YouTube support was.

The same day, in a fit of despair, I tried to figure out how to contact Darren's family, intending to learn where he lived and visit. While Googling for information, I learned from an obituary from 2020 that Darren was an only child whose mother had passed away last December during lockdown. Darren had been alone in the house all that time.

the police probably thought he was just a depressed runaway trying to go out on a bang. To tell you the truth, I feel responsible for what happened. Darren was harmless, just a cast-out kid left alone for too long. In fact, everyone left Darren alone for so long that he became desperate, started talking to things that should never be talked to, things no one should talk to. And then, one day, those things started talking back. The festival season is aangroken, and that betekent, modder.

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