CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "I stumbled upon a dead language" Creepypasta

Episode Date: March 3, 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►Igor Krstic: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/dbqX1SUGGESTED 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-

As part of my doctorate, I was hired as a lab assistant working with pediatric treatment. We were working on a paper measuring the exposure effect of a potential contaminant. While my colleagues were working on the measured effects on adults and the elderly, my team would work with children. The potential disruption to developing adolescents was deemed important enough to have a separate set of experiments and measurements. The study garnered unilateral attention and funding of not a only one but four different pharmaceutical companies.

Hatchett Pharmaceuticals being the main contributor. I was hired pretty late in the process. I wasn't even sure what the contaminant was, as it was just designated as the contaminant. Apparently, it was something that resided just under the top soil in a large residential area. To not taint our measurements, my colleagues and I were given minimum information

about the symptoms to look for, and what to exist? expect. Instead, we were provided a set of experiments and willing participants. It was all fast and haphazard. Most of us started on a Monday and Tuesday the following week was the day of our first experiment. Little time to prepare, get settled or even understand. Still, this could be big, big enough to launch a career. The experiment described as cognition and ocular development assessment. assessment, CODA, was to be performed with full consent and supervision of the parental guardians.

All children were between 6 to 10 years old, and none of them had any observed deformities or illnesses. We were given limited access to certain medical records to make sure our study didn't have the potential to cause any harm. Then again, I'd read the experiment checklist, and there was nothing that could damage anyone. If anything, I argued the result would be pretty much useless. As Tuesday came around, me and my two colleagues had prepared as best we could. The three of us would put one participant each through a series of tests. The coda was three tests over the total of three hours.

The parents were to be asked for consent before and after each step and given the ability to stop any test at any given time. The experiment overall was surprisingly simple. was surprisingly simple. It was supposed to be a measurement of cognitive and emotional development, mostly tested through facial and spatial recognition. The day of the experiment, I first met Logan, an eight-year-old kid sporting a baseball cap and a brand-new Pokemon t-shirt.

His mom was a bit anxious, but from what I've been told, she had been generously compensated. As I met them in the parking lot and led them in some, I promised her we'd go through the specifics. Don't worry, I said. We're mostly going to look at pictures. Doesn't sound too bad, huh? He shook his head, but I'd yet to see him smile.

Maybe his mom's anxiety rubbed off on him. The testing room was somewhat small and made entirely out of concrete. There was a pair of opposite two-way mirrors on each side of the room. The walls were painted. this sickly mint green color, a color so neutral it hurt to look at. The first test was all about emotional intelligence.

In sets of six pictures each, I was to show Logan various expressions and ask him which mostly correlated to an emotion. If they answered objectively wrong, according to a chart, we were supposed to ask them to explain their choice. Simple enough, I'd done something similar before. But this is where I first realized that Logan wasn't some ordinary kid As I laid out the first image set

I asked him to identify the happiest face Clearly it was card number three And Logan answered as much without hesitation In the second image set He was asked which one was the saddest Again it was number three He answered correctly again. In the third picture, the six pictures were a wild mix, some sad, some happy.

One guy was sleeping in the corner. Which one is the angriest? I asked. There was a correct answer. Number four, a woman furrowing her brow and exposing her teeth. Yet Logan looked at them all for a long time. Number six, he said finally. pointing at the sleeping man. How come?

I asked following protocol. It's complicated. They almost killed his mom. The kid seemed almost distant, staring at the picture. What the hell? He answered the rest of the questions flawlessly, but that answer stuck with me. Such a strange reaction.

Not only did he answer wrong to an obvious question. but it was also such an odd explanation. Logan himself seemed to have trouble finding the right word for it. The second test was similar, but there were new cards. In sets of three, Logan was supposed to explain each emotion presented by the people in the pictures. Happy, sad, angry, scared. It was similar to the first test, but much more detailed. For every image, there would be a description of the first test. There would be a description and a short explanation given by the participant. We pressed forward.

First three cards. No problem. Happy, happy, sad. Easy explanations. Second set of cards. Same result. Surprised, sad, sad. But when the third image set came along,

I didn't know what to say. Three people, or completely neutral. Not a single emotion on their face. They logged almost computer generated. Logan didn't skip a beat though. She's scared, he said. She doesn't know why she's doing this. And, uh, what about this one?

Oh, he's hungry. He just doesn't show it. Hungry? Is that an emotion? Yes, he's really hungry. Dangerous. And the third one. Logan took a long hard look.

After a few seconds, he looked up at me, almost like he forgot about the picture for a while. Okay, he, uh, he's... I think he's Obstyn. Obstyn? Yeah, Obstyn. What do you mean? That's what he is.

I don't know a better word for it. So, why is he? Uh, Obstyn. he saw something he shouldn't have. We continued with several more amissets, and Logan gave mostly ordinary answers, but every now and then he'd throw in something absurd sounding. Obstern was the first,

but there was also Ada, galled and srit. The descriptions were outlandish, and frankly nonsensical. Adder, he stared too long into the light. Gald, he didn't go swimming, but his feet are seen. still wet. Surrith, he fell between the cracks. By the time I was about to start the third experiment, I had a few moments alone with Logan's mom. Still, anxious, she held her arms close to herself and didn't meet my eyes. We'll be done in a bit, I said. He's doing great. He's such an imaginative child, you know,

she nodded. He makes up things all the time. You should see his drawings. Does he have any trouble at school? No, not really, no, she smiled. Well, mostly not. Some of the other kids can get a bit creeped out when he starts making things up. I checked the clock. It was time to start the final experiment. All kids have a quirk or two, I smiled back. That's what makes them kids. The final experiment was about recognising places rather than people. One by one, I was to show Logan pictures of various places, ordinary places like supermarkets, playgrounds and factories. They were pretty easy to recognize.

First I'd shown the pictures, then I'd ask him to describe the scene. Logan didn't seem to mind. The pictures themselves were easy for Logan to recognize. One by one, he explained what he saw. Factories with lots of cars parked outside, empty playgrounds. But as we got to a park, he sort of stopped. His expression shifted.

That's a graveyard, he said. I had to stop myself from correcting him. It was obviously not a graveyard. Can you describe it? I asked. I really don't want to. There's a lot of people there. What kind of people? I was going off script, but...

I was just too curious. Logan leaned in to look closer at the picture. There's a lot of strange colours, he said. The people who used to be there are gone. I couldn't tell what he was seeing. The picture was empty. As we finished up, Logan went to the bathroom. I got some time to talk to his mom on her own,

and I brought out the picture of the park. Do you have any idea what he sees here? I asked. No, she said, shaking her head. Could be anything. It's just strange, I said. Usually kids make up stories about dragons, lasers, wizards, that kind of stuff, not graveyards in parks. Are you calling my son strange? I lost my train of thought.

As Logan came back, she grabbed him by the arm to leave. Before they did, I caught up to them. I had to try something. Logan, I said, just a minute. They stopped and his mom gave me a tired look. I was thinking of buying this house, I said, bringing up a photo of a place I'd been checking out a few times. What do you think? He just stared at me, as if he didn't understand.

He took off his baseball cap and scratched his ear. Looks dirty, he said. A lot of rar. Right there in the, come on Logan. His mother took his arm. And he was almost dragged down the hall. Turning back to me one last time, he yelled back. He looked up, and then he didn't.

I didn't lie when I said I was thinking about buying that house. There was an open viewing the next day. And I decided to drop by on my lunch break. There were about eight other people there, all couples. I kind of disappeared among them. Maybe I wasn't being considered as a serious buyer. The place was a bit too large for me after all. As the realtor ran off to speak to a pregnant couple, I stopped in the foyer.

I had this strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. Ro, I whispered to myself, right here. Just saying it out loud almost made me feel. feel it. It was something so specific, so unique. It wasn't an emotion, as much as it was an experience, a story. I could imagine myself lying on the floor, looking up at the wood-brown ceiling. I could feel my back grown stiff, as if I'd been lying down for too long. I could feel my eyes grown thick, like blinking through mud. Every breath, a conscious effort, arms unresponsive, A prayer for my heart to keep beating.

Then, nothing. Ro, to lock up, and then to not. I had this strange understanding, like I'd seen something I wasn't supposed to. Didn't the kid have a word for that too? God, I felt sick. Everyone was gathered around the realtor in the living room. I don't know what gave me the courage to confront him,

but I just blurted out. Did the previous owner die here? I asked. In the foyer. No, uh, no, they didn't, he answered. You have to tell us that they did, one of the couple said. Another couple agreed. Okay, yeah.

I mean, no one has died here. That much is true. No one did. But yes, they were found unresponsive in the foyer. They were loud sighs. A couple immediately left. another left shortly afterwards. There was a cue to talk to the realtor, and within ten minutes I was the only one left.

Grow or not, I got the place too cheap to care. This made me curious as to the words the kid had used to describe the various places and emotions. Over the following days, as I transcribed our findings, I started thinking about them a lot more. staring into the light too long to get wet feet without swimming it was all just cryptic nonsense but what I'd felt

the first night in my new house that was raw I could feel it it was the right way to describe it one night as I stood in the bathroom I thought about the word Adder it was what Logan had used

described staring into the light for too long. It felt fitting, but I didn't know if I'd experienced it. I tried looking up into the bathroom light and just saying it out loud, but I didn't get the same feeling as when I'd said Roe in the foyer. This wasn't it. This wasn't Ador. I sort of gave up on it after a while, but as I was watching TV, the thought came creeping back to me.

There was a new segment about a patient with severe brain damage, a woman who couldn't breathe on her own or speak. She was aware, in a sense, but completely imprisoned in her body. The segment focused on how her family was caring for her. But I just leaned in closer and looked at her. Adder, I whispered to myself. That's it. And it was. No question about it.

She was Adder. from staring into the light too long. I could feel it, understand it. Over the next couple of days, I started chasing Gould. The word meant someone whose feet was wet, despite not swimming. It took me a while to get this one, but I finally found it in a newspaper article online. I felt Gould from reading about a man who had died from an overdose down at the beach.

His body had apparently choked it. itself, causing him to sweat to death. As he was homeless and living close to the beach, he'd been found by a couple of teenagers building a sandcastle. But that feeling of drowning on dry land next to the ocean, that was galled. With the right word, I could feel it, I could empathise. In my mind, I could be there with him. But the final word I noted.

Surit. That was a difficult one. Over several days, I looked all over the internet. I searched forums, read obscure articles ranging back to the 90s. But I just couldn't shoot blindly into the web and hope for the best. I had to find out more, get something substantial. That thought made me take a step back. What about the photos?

the photos which shown Logan in the first place. Who were the people in the photos? I checked the inventory list for the experiment. Most of the cards were just mentioned as a number and an emotion, but I noticed that some of the faces were repeated were the same actors. All the cards which Logan had gotten right were repeated at least once. But the weird ones? Those were unique faces.

The lighting was. different. They didn't show any peculiar emotions. They were just strange people, a bit off. I took a few photos with my phone and tried to do an image search. I couldn't get a single hit. These pictures simply weren't available anywhere online. The ordinary emotions displayed could be found on various stuck image sites, but other strange ones that Logan pointed out. Finally, after a few and dozens of pages clicked through, I did find a picture that looked like one of the models, but in a completely different setting. And this was just weird.

The picture I found online was from a social media profile. The profile, in turn, betrayed the user page of the very same homeless man that had drowned in his own sweat from an overdose. The same one I'd read an article of. but the article was written just a few days prior and the picture must have been taken at least weeks ago. Listen, I don't know if you can get this. What Logan did was to perfectly describe using one of his made-up words

was exactly what was about to happen to that man. The man who galled, who overdosed on the beach. I mulled the whole thing over in my head countless times. And finally, I just gave up. I had to talk to Logan again. I did the creepiest thing I've ever done.

I tracked down the kid at his school. The following day, as he was about to get on the bus back home, I waved at him from across the parking lot. He was surprised to see me and couldn't place me at first. Then I could see him recognise me, like something lit up in his mind. Hey, he called out. Science man. Hey, Logan, I called back.

How's it been? Good, he said. You're not here for more tests, are you? He stopped a few feet ahead of me. Actually, I'm just here to ask you about that language of yours. Those strange words you use. How do you come up with them? That's easy, he said.

Once you start talking it, you kind of don't start. After a while you just feel them, you know. So where did you learn it? I asked. Anywhere special? I think I always know, he shrogged. Like, it's weird. Like listening, but not to a sound, but like a colour. It's sort of just there, inside.

So you can always see it. Because sometimes you said people in the pictures were just happy or sad. ordinary things. Well, sometimes those things are easier to see. You said I should answer fast, not, you know, accurately. So, you can see it now, I chuckled. Anywhere, here with me. Sure, he smiled.

Just stand still for a bit. Logan looked at me for a while. As I met his eyes, I could feel something. There was that feeling again. Hobsden, to see something I shouldn't have. Right there, in that kid's eyes, he knew something. Strangely enough, it wasn't him that broke the silence. It was me.

Athores, I said. I didn't know why I said it, but it took Logan by surprise. Ah, the one who shouts until they listen, he said. That's what it means, right? I think that's me. I don't know, I said. I'm sorry, Logan. I don't know why I said that.

Did you see it? He asked, almost excited. Do you see it now? I want to say that I didn't. I want to say that I saw nothing. But that'd be a lie. A million little words crept into my mind. And as I stared into that kid's eyes,

I saw something I shouldn't have. Now, it was all becoming clearer. The more words I knew, the better I understood. The word I looked for, so it was a lot more complex than Logan had made it out to be with human words. It was contextual. The man had died in an earthquake.

He fell between the cracks. No, he hadn't. He was going to. It was describing events destined to unfold. But it was also describing something that had happened. Was it both? Neither? I see it, I admitted.

Right there, I could feel the parking lot falling away in insignificance. With a single spoken word, we could tell each other infinite things. These mundane expressions were just the tip of the iceberg, a dumbedown shadow of what was truly being said. The words told us of things. things that were, things that could be, and things there currently was. And, in that moment of silence, of understanding, I heard the vibrant colours so clearly, I can almost see them. They were piercing into my mind, forcing themselves into my understanding, screaming to me,

that once you understand something, you can't unlearn it. I forgot to breathe, as to not accidentally say something I shouldn't. You weren't talking about the pictures I held up in the test You were looking at me I said with nothing but shallow breath I'm obstin You didn't even look at the picture He didn't have to answer

I knew it was true It was written into the word itself that my realisation would come Then as possibilities came rushing towards me I could feel an enormous weight come down on me. My mind couldn't take it. My body was shutting down as I fell to my knees, screaming until my neck felt raw. The world started to fade as my heartbeat swallowed my hearing. I have a hard time describing what happened next. When I closed my eyes, I'd see millions of possibilities, mostly pain, suffering, and terror. My own thoughts and emotions multiplied like

a torch in a hall of mirrors. I'd see myself waking up in my bed, only to get murdered by a thousand different weapons. I'd see myself drowning in my bathtub, breaking my neck, falling down the stairs. Death. So much death. And then, in the blink of an eye, I'd be in the back of an ambulance, feeling the residual effect of a defibrillator on my chest. As I blinked, The ambulance burst into flames. The driver crashed into a tree, someone carving their initials into my chest with a scalpel. None of it was real, but I couldn't tell anymore.

Different words with nothing but a well-placed syllable. All the while, I was just spitting out seemingly random words. My eyes lost focus, and as a lost grip of reality, my body shut itself down in self-defense. Thank God. This was back in January of 2019. Logan was born with this language already stored in the back of his mind. Some kind of residual effect from this contamination.

But for people like you and me, we can't take it all at once. So, over the years, with intense therapy to back me up, I've settled and trying to learn one single word. I'm going to find out as much as I can about just what it means to be, Obstern, the word describing me. There was so much to that one word

that you could fill a lifetime with it. In a way, maybe that was the point. A god language meant to fit all of our very beings into simple expressions, like compressing a folder into a zip file. But that's just the thing. To learn what it really means to be obstin, to be my word.

I can't really do anything else but to live and see what happens next. Not unless I want to go back to where my mind wandered off to. Still, sometimes I could feel something creeping back into my mind. Little tinkles, syllables and sounds reminding me of all the knowledge I still have stored away somewhere

in my inner madness. Little words with galactic proportions. It is easy to slip back into that mind, just inches away from the edge of what my physical brain can hold. I sometimes wonder what all your words are. I sometimes wonder what they mean. I'll really, really try not to think about it.