CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "I used to talk to my reflection until one day it started talking back." Creepypasta

Episode Date: June 25, 2020

Hello?CREEPYPASTA STORY►by LonelyBobcat: https://www.reddit.com/r/scarystories...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- Danny Ingrassia: ►https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Nx...►https://www.instagram.com/danny_ingra...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-

This weekend I'm in a while I'm new as I'm not on think. Oh, that dossier that morning off must be more as I'm too

on think. Oh, van't at a pedal tournoe I'm a moose if I'm a new if I'm more on the time

to come. Give you self then a boost with BioCure Maxshot Liquid. Three opepend Planta, magnesium,

iceer, an energy booster to make then to come to come out of BioCur Maxshot Liquid. Foodingsupplement

forcriag-mach by the apotheker. I wasn't born deaf. In fact, my hearing might have actually been rather good as a child. I remember struggling to sleep in those early years, and hearing my parents whispered arguments rising up through the air vents and into my room. As I got older, it became increasingly difficult to piece together what they were saying from so far away, until one night, I couldn't hear them at all.

That first night, I convinced myself that they simply had not nothing to argue about, but I knew something was wrong when I found the same silence the following night. It was at that point that I began to realise that something was happening to me. Everything around me was beginning to feel quieter. My parents had to start repeating everything they said to me and I was falling behind in classes where I sat in the back row and was unable to make out what my teachers were saying. I woke up one morning at the edge of the of 12 and realised I couldn't hear very much of anything. Suddenly, every sound around me was muffled.

My parents were very career-driven, and as such they were reluctant to bring me to the hospital, lest they missed a day of work. It wasn't until I started to cry that they began to take me seriously. That day, we discovered I was born with a genetic illness, one that was causing my eardrums to fill with fluid. Hearing aids would be of little use and the problem was only going to get worse as I got older.

My parents immediately pulled me from our small town school where they didn't have the resources to help me and sent me up with a private tutor from home to teach me sign language. They did their best to learn as well but they were already incredibly busy before this had happened and weren't quick to pick up more than the basics. I could still communicate to them vocally, but they didn't have enough signs memorized to properly respond.

Our interactions devolved into them miming basic instructions at me to do chores or brush my teeth. The only person in my life who really took the time to learn sign language was my friend, Jonathan. Before I lost my hearing, Jonathan would come over just about every day after school to play video games and get into trouble. Once I went deaf,

he would come over and spend hours having me teach him everything my tutor had taught me. It wasn't long until we were having full-fledged conversations with our hands. Summer came as it inevitably does and Jonathan and I were able to spend even more time together,

running around the neighbourhood, getting into all sorts of mischief with our secret hand signals that no one else seemed to know. Our friendship felt stronger than ever through this, but my relationship with the rest of the world continued to deteriorate. I didn't need sign language to express myself to others, but I couldn't understand what they were saying without it.

My parents searched for any options they could to have me return to school in the fall, but nothing ever fell into place. I could get private schooling from home, But my parents didn't like the idea of me missing out on a formal education, let alone being home all day with just one teacher to socialise with. That was the reasoning they gave me at least. But deep down, I knew the issue was that they were struggling to communicate with me.

Without a proper way to talk, our relationship was strained, and I just became a nuisance that shared the same space as them. One night my parents sat me down and informed me with a printed letter that they had made arrangements for me to attend a boarding school for the deaf once summer ended. I was devastated when I found out as was Jonathan when I told him the next day.

Suddenly there was this wall between us but I believed we'd move past it to enjoy what was left for summer together. When he didn't come over the following day I choked it up to him needing a bit more time to process what was happening. That was, until I saw him playing in the street with the other neighbourhood boys. I was in my room at the time playing video games when I noticed the ball fly by my window.

I ran over to see if a game had started without me. I was shocked to see Jonathan there playing with several boys that he had never really seemed to like before. It was painful to watch. the reality of what was happening play out before me. I had no doubt Jonathan was hurt by my leaving, but he had apparently decided I was a lost cause because of it, that any time spent with me now would just be a waste

since I was going to leave at the end of summer. It seemed he had decided to start making new friends, friends that would be around in three months, friends that he could have real conversation with. in that moment I simply wanted to leave It was only the beginning of summer But I felt so sick

Standing there and watching him have fun without me I wanted it to be September already So I could go off and start my new life Instead of sitting here and watching him start his Then Jonathan seemed to notice me He stopped in place when he saw me Standing at my window his fun expression replaced with one of guilt.

I'm sorry, he signed. I simply close the blinds. As much as it hurt that he had left me alone like this, I knew that I didn't want to lose my childhood friend, much less the rest of my life there in my hometown. Instead, I decided I was going to get good at lip reading so that I wouldn't need to go to this school. So good that I would be able to continue.

living my life as if I could still hear. The next day, after my parents went to work, leaving me to do whatever they believed a deaf child would do while home alone all day, I snuck into my parents' room and sat in front of my mother's vanity mirror. It felt a little weird, sitting on such a girly chair, surrounded by makeup and looking into a mirror with such an ornate frame, but it was more comfortable than standing in the bathroom all day. Immediately I began talking.

I first started at my typical speed, and then later, more slowly, as to get a real look and how my mouth was shaped, how it moved, how it extended and contracted and curled with every sound that I made. I spent the entire day staring in the mirror, getting lost in the sight of my own lips moving, so much so that I didn't realize my parents had returned home until I felt my mother putting a hand on my my shoulder. She wasn't happy that I was in a bedroom, something that was generally forbidden for me, but she didn't have the proper sign language memorized to express her annoyance. Instead, she just swatted me lightly on the back and sent me out while she changed. That night,

I sat between my mother and father at the dinner table and watched as they discussed their day with one another. It had only been about a month since my hearing became essentially nonexistent. But already they had moved under talking as if I wasn't even there. It wasn't easy to tell what they were saying, but I was beginning to recognise some words, particularly my name. The next day I continued this practice of sitting in front of the mirror, but stopped after a few hours to go watch the 24-hour news channel. There, I could see the close-ups of the anchors talking,

but just enough context from the scrolling text to piece of it. together certain words. This became my routine for the next few months, with weekends being my time off. I didn't want my parents to know just how much work I was putting into this. The goal

was to convince them that it was natural, that I was beginning to read lips with so much ease that it would be silly to send me off to a boarding school. I needed them to believe that even if I wasn't perfect at reading lips, that it was only a matter of time before I was.

Some days were discouraging, of course, especially at first. I grew tired of seeing myself frown as I tried to memorize every word that the movement of my mouth translated to. Over time, however, I saw my frown fading. Even on days where I was sad, my reflection seemed to show a version of me that was smiling underneath it all and encouraged me to keep going. By the end of summer, I seemed to have gotten my way. There were a lot of fights, a lot of mean words, a lot of me shouting about how they just wanted to get rid of me. But by the time school started, my parents had given in.

I was reading lips well enough that as long as I was in the front row and teachers were generally facing the class, I would be able to understand what was happening. On the first day of school, I ran into Jonathan. He spotted me as I hopped off my bus and I could see several. emotions passed through his face. There was shock, of course, as he certainly hadn't been expecting me to return, as well as guilt and shame. But none of them were as prominent as the clear joy he was feeling had seen me there.

I saw him shout my name as he pushed past several other students to wrap his arms around me in a big hug. I wasn't happy with how Jonathan had given up on me, but I was happy to forgive him. After he realised all the work I had done to stay in his life Jonathan returned the favour in full He pushed for the school to give us the same schedule So that he could explain anything I may have missed As well as help me with my homework each day

That year was difficult But we got through it His commitment to helping me never wavered But I never let my guard down either Anytime not spent with Jonathan or on schoolwork work was generally spent in front of a mirror, practicing my lip reading, because no matter how easy it seemed to become, I couldn't afford to go back on a single inch of the progress I had made. As the years went by, the burden I had on others slowly started to fade. I was always

going to be slowing the people around me down in one way or another, but as long as I kept talking to myself in the mirror, I was able to minimize it. I continued the practice into my adult years, at which point Jonathan and I had moved together into a small apartment in the city. He worked a part-time job, but I was being floated by my parents, as well as a decent-sized disability check from the government, so I had plenty of time each day to practice in front of the mirror. At some point, I began to have fun with it,

using it as a chance to really talk to myself. I would vocally reminisce about sounds I enjoyed before I lost my hearing or express my concerns that Jonathan may leave me behind one day to pursue married life with a woman. I would often act out silly scenarios as well, asking myself questions I wanted to answer as if it was a full-blown conversation between two people. Sometimes I would even ask my reflection questions about him

and wait as if he would answer. That was when things started to change. I began to notice that with every passing day I looked a little worse in the mirror. My face began to sag in ways that I wasn't familiar with, ways that made me look sad and scared. I began to ask myself questions about these changes.

Why did I look so different? Why did I look so sad? Was this just part of growing up? Was this what aging does to you? No matter how much I smiled, it looked insincere, with a sad expression seemingly hiding beneath it in my reflection. One day, I woke up feeling more chipper than usual, but what I saw in the mirror didn't match how I felt. Instead, the face staring back at me looked terrified. I brought my hand up, tracing the frown I saw in the glass, the shape feeling different at my skin than it looked in my reflection.

everything felt just barely out of sync. What's going on? I asked aloud, just as I did with any question that passed through my mind in the privacy of my bathroom. And to my surprise, my reflection answered. I had not been looking at my reflection's lips when they had seemingly moved, only catching it thanks to my peripheral vision, so I wasn't quite sure what they might have said. Needless to say,

I was shocked. My heart was pounding, but I managed to keep my body still, waiting for whatever had tricked me to become apparent. I continued to stare, my lips just barely hovering open with awe as I stared at their reflection in the mirror. My own lips were still,

but the reflections moved once again. It was subtle, his mouth barely making motions, but I was able to see it and I was able to read what it was saying Please stop It asked Or at least that's what I thought it said

I looked up to the eyes And once again saw them expressing a different emotion than I was I felt confused But what I saw in my reflection Was fear and concern I stared into those eyes slowly leaning in, looking for any other sign that something here was out of the ordinary. Then the eyes of my reflection darted to the left for a split second.

My own eyes widened with shock, but my reflections widened with worry, worry that I had noticed him doing something that I had not. I moved in closer, my eyes darting between his eyes and lips, trying to catch any differences in our actions. Can you hear me? I asked, afraid of getting an answer. My reflection's eyes widened as I said this, his gaze darting to the left again to look at something

that was just barely out of sight. His lips began moving at a rapid pace, but I was only able to catch the latter half of what he was saying. Please stop. They are watching. They think I've been talking to you. They think... But that was all he got the chance to say.

The mirror suddenly cracked as a quick blur flew at my reflection. I instinctively jumped, trying to avoid whatever it was from hitting me, but there was something in the room with me. Whatever it was, it only existed in the mirror, and only for an instant. In the next, there was nothing left but the broken glass of the mirror, reflecting everything my bathroom. Everything, except me. Jonathan, I yelled. Jonathan. I raced out to the bathroom, hoping to hell him back that I was able to catch him before he ran off to work. What was that, he mouthed. It seemed he had heard the mirror shattering. I didn't take the time to try and

explain. Instead, I grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into the restroom with me. There, we found broken mirror just as I left it, but my reflection had returned. Damn, what did you do? He mouthed, running his hand over the broken mirror. I'll call the landlord when I get to work, but I'm running late. I wanted to stop him, to grab him by the hand again and explain everything that had just happened, but what exactly had happened? I had no idea how to express what I had just

witnessed, so I let him go. As he turned to leave, I looked at his reflection and noticed that it too had a different expression than the one the real Jonathan wore. Just like mine before, his seemed concerned. I turned to stare at my own reflection, trying to find answers. Despite my now sad and concerned face, my reflection seemed happier, more confident than before. Gone were the wrinkles and the frown lines, replaced now with a pebbly smile that underlined any emotion I showed with my own face. I refused to believe that I was

misunderstanding the situation. This new reflection was able to match me perfectly, but I wasn't going to let it fool me. I know you can hear me, I said, challenging him to move. And for a second, he did. But then I saw his eyes move. They moved to his left the same way my previous reflections did, but I knew better than to turn my attention in that direction this time and instead let my gaze drift down to his lips where I saw my frown twist into his syrupy, sweet smile. Hey there, he mouthed. I looked back to his eyes and saw in his expression that he knew I was reading his lips. He raised an eyebrow

in an attempt to be friendly, but it only served to unsettle me more. This wasn't the same reflection I had before. This was someone else who looked just like him, someone who looked just like me. It's okay, you can talk to me. He continued, his toothy grin,

seeming like a clownish parody of my own. What were you and that other guy? talking about before? I stood there, silently, not sure how to answer, and questioning if I should. You can tell me, he pressed, his smile widening. You weren't getting trouble. Just tell me, come on. He kept talking, his lip movement so distinct I could almost hear him when I closed my eyes.

He kept mouthing about how he could help me. how he could tell me more secrets if I just explained what my first reflection had told him. I left the bathroom, but everywhere I looked there seemed to be more reflections. Door knobs, countertops, windows, anything that showed even just a blurry image of me, suddenly felt unsafe. I spent the day in my bedroom with every reflective surface I could find covered by some spare article of clothing, just waiting for Jonathan to come home. Over the next few days, I began to feel a little better around reflective services, and eventually life went back to almost normal.

I made sure never to look directly at my reflection in the mirror again, however, instead opting to use the camera on my phone as a way of fixing my hair in the mornings. When I am out and about though, I sometimes catch my reflection in my peripheral vision. sometimes it's in the windows of a building or sometimes in a puddle on the sidewalk but it's impossible to not notice I do my best not to look at it directly but my reflection knows that I am avoiding him when no one else is paying attention

I can see that his lips are moving out of the corner of my eye still mouthing his empty promises telling me that it's okay to talk to him that he just wants to know what my previous reflection had told me, that he can share even more cool secrets if I can be honest with him. Sometimes I am tempted to answer, but I hold myself back. After all, whatever their secrets are,

they are willing to kill one of their own to not have it get out. I could only imagine what they do to a real human if I gave them the chance.