CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "If You Go To The Salt Flats of Bolivia, DON'T Go Through 'The Gate'" Creepypasta

Episode Date: May 8, 2021

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by Darkly_Gathers: 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►John Newell: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Bqg5l​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/CreepsMcPasta​CREEPYPASTA 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-

The Belivian salt flats are staggering in both their size and scope. I adjust my sunglasses and look out over the expanse, the breezless air cool against my skin. Soft and dreamlike mountains, low and silver, shimmer in the far distance. They are the only objects in my field of vision that mark any kind of horizon. A thin layer of rainwater, one that barely reaches up above the sole of my shoes, covers the endless plains ahead and all around. They have turned the ground into a great and impossible mirror, a mirror that reflects the blue of the sky

and the thick full white of the cloud so uncannily that to the human eye they become as one. I stand in the centre of a place outside the realms of possibility, beyond the laws of rationality and sense. I turn my palms outwards and face them up to the sky, and I close my eyes. I breathe in slow and deep, and I exhale. I've always wanted to visit this place.

My girlfriend didn't want to. She said it would be a waste of money. She said a lot of things. Eventually, she said she was going to break up with me. So, that was that? Her loss. I opened my eyes and turn in a circle. I look around.

A little in the distance is the bus, surrounded by a tour group. They walk and amble from place to place with the reflections in tow. Weightless, floating. But the bus appears to be suspended in midair. I look over to my left. I see the silhouette of a woman in a white-brimmed hat. She raises what I think must be a phone. And she takes some pictures.

I do the same. But the pictures don't match up to the reality. It's not the camera's fault, of course. they just couldn't. They could never hope to do this place justice. I pocket my phone and close my eyes again, smiling. I put my arms out to either side and walk. Safe in the knowledge that there is nothing for me to bump into,

nothing for me to trip over, just the endless flats. My feet make repetitive, hypnotic, and soft little splashes with every step. It's a tune, I decide, and the melody plays as I cross the surface of the mirror. I have to see this place in its natural colours I think to myself after an imperceptible amount of time I come to a stop and take off my sunglasses

squinting through the glaring brightness waiting for one of those lazy clouds to drift across the face of the sun I shield my eyes with my hand as the intensity around the edges my vision cools off a little and I drink in the view for the umteenth time I want it fully committed to memory There are the faint and shimmering mountains, now a touch more purple than silver grey. They might as well be mirages, and it's impossible to tell how far away they are.

Ten miles, 100? I do not know. I do not want to know. There are the clouds, above and across and below, all a part of the great blue sphere of sky within which I'm standing, tinged with the gold of the light of the sun. There is the woman with a wide-roomed hat. Her silhouette boasts more color now. I see the edges of the deep blue of a dress.

She is the only object with mass in my immediate surroundings. Beyond her, there is only the mirror. I pause. Chockeling, I realize I must have scanned right past the bus and the tour group. I look again. But no, they're not there. I turn in a full circle. standing in place, my reflection turns with me.

You both search for evidence of the boss, but there's no doubt about it. It has gone. I return my sunglasses to my face, trying to mentally calm the rising beating of my heart. Where the hell? I murmur. There was no noise, no engine, a sound which would have carried far and wide across a salted formus plane,

no rumble of voices or calls for us to return. There was nothing. There was nothing, and now it is gone. Damn it, damn it. It's left me here. They've left me here alone. No. Not quite alone.

I turned to the woman. She does not appear to have noticed that predicament. The air, so refreshingly cool only moments ago, now feel sharp in my throat with every breath. I jog over to her, raising her hand. Hey, I call out. excuse me she's further away than I thought she was

but she turns back to me I'm able to make out of face and she blinks as if I'm awakening from a trance and returns her own sunglasses to her eyes they flash with a reflection of the mirror hi

she says stepping closer and lowering her phone what's up the bus I say to her did you see anything Where the hell did it go? She seems to notice this absence for the first time, and I see the fear glimmer up to the surface. I don't understand, she begins.

It was right there. Did it go without us? It couldn't, right? I don't understand. She pinches the brim of her hat and runs right past me, back the way I came, each step, leaving a momentary little ripple in the water at our feet. She gasps and mutters something to herself,

shaking ahead. But the facts are plain. The bus and all our fellow travellers are gone. One hour later, the fretting has stopped. Panic gave way to calm. We introduce ourselves. I gave her my name, Blake,

and she gave me hers, Rebecca. We came to a conclusion, one based on the logic. If the bus was still here, we'd be able to see it. There's nothing out here to obscure our view. The fact that we cannot see it means one simple thing. As unlikely as it seems, the bus must have driven away without our hearing it.

It's the only explanation. And so, the second they realise that two of their passengers are not on board, they'll drive right back, or someone will drive back. They'll have to. They wouldn't just leave us. Or hell, another tour group would find us. even if worse comes to the worst we'll have to stay here overnight someone will come

we did try to follow the route that got us here on foot but there are no trails in the water or the salt everything is instantly washed away and since all our surroundings look exactly the same we cannot tell which way to go so we are just waiting it out my phone made it through to our tour guide's answering machine

I left a message Rebecca's attempts were all met with a line is busy alert There is nothing to sit on here No slopes or rocks or ledges Just flat, wet salt The endless shimmering mirror So I lay my jacket down in the water And we're sitting on it together now

Side by side watching the sky slowly shift through its shades of blue As the sun starts to drop from its midday peak So you're out of her alone then Rebecca I ask her After a period of silence. Try not to think about the vast emptiness, the lack of rescue vehicles. Yeah, she replies quietly. You?

Yeah. Another pause. I continued. My girlfriend don't to me. Thought I come out here as a kind of screw you. I considered this statement. No, that's not right. I did it for me, not by spite or anything else.

I've always wanted to see this part of the world and, well, life is unpredictable, isn't it? You have to do things while you have the chance. You might not get another. She nods thoughtfully. That's... Yeah, that's very true. Another pause.

So, why are you out here? I ask her. She lifts her head and looks out over the ethereal plane. I wanted to experience something otherworldly. I wanted to come to Bolivia specifically. There's so much to see here, the salt flats or the last place on my list, my bucket list. I wanted to come here before I died. Oh, I reply, so kind of like me then. She turns to me. She isn't wearing her sunglasses as a hat shields her eyes from the direct light, so I can see them sparkle and she gives me a sad smile. Yeah, she says softly. She says softly.

kind of we are quiet for a little while longer as the sun sinks lower and lower lower lower and lower and still there is nothing nothing but the soundless shimmering sphere the water and the sky

has one and Rebecca and I in the middle the world begins to drift from blue through silver to orange and purple my mouth is death dry based on the sound of Rebecca's coughs, I assume hers is too. We had a plastic bottle of water between us at the beginning, about one-third full. Most of our supplies were left on the bus.

The bottle's contents were quickly and foolishly finished, and the thirst has only grown since then. The fact that we are surrounded by vast quantities of entirely undrinkable water makes the sensation far more torturous than it should be. I claim my throats for the 13th or 14th time, The sound dry and harsh. How long is it that a person can survive without water? Three days, right? I try to imagine suffering the sensation I feel now

for another two and a half days, getting gradually worse and worse to the point of, well, death. How does a person die of thirst anyway? What must it feel like at the end? I swallow, my lips stick together as I do, so. Someone will come. Someone will come back for us. The hours crawl by. Sand through the hourglass. You walk around some more, but there is nowhere to go really, and we don't drift too

far from our original location. We talk some more about our lives, but I get the feeling she's holding something back, something she doesn't want to tell me, which is fair enough, I guess. I've only known for? For how long now exactly? It must be going on nine or ten hours, and those hours are stretched in a place like this. We keep trying to call for help as the charges on our phones keeps dropping and dropping. Our first few calls are only to the tour guide operator, but then they start going out to the emergency services, to friends, to family, to anyone, but nothing seems to work.

It's infuriating. I blink away a momentary bout of dizziness as the words and numbers on the screen fade in and out of my focus. I put it back into my pocket. The sun is setting now. We sit in the centre of a ball of silent fire. Orangees and reds and crimsons are thrown up all around and the clouds are cast in slow flame. What if we fall asleep? She asks quietly, and they don't see us in the dark.

They'll see us, I replied. How could they not? Were the only objects with any mass from miles and miles? She murmurs in cautious agreement, and then she lifts her head. Eyes wide, staring out into the distance. She sits up straight and leans forward. Those eyes are drawn to a squint, and I follow a gaze. Upon seeing it, I stumbled to stand, my head swimming.

there's someone there another person out there across the plains a small silhouette against the red sun hey I call out then clear my throat and try again hey Rebecca does the same and we start making a way over towards them

across the water my first thought is that it's a part of a rescue party but there's no one else just this lonely figure no vehicles or cars or helicopters so I come to the conclusion that they must have been left behind as well

forgotten by the boss then how come we didn't see them sooner we draw closer and closer the figure does not move and have to suppress an uncertain shiver when I realise they're staring right back at us they've been staring at us the whole time No words pass between Rebecca and I, but we come to a gradual stop about ten or twelve feet away.

I want to call out to him, but I have a creeping and unnerving sensation that, by doing so, I'll be breaking some kind of spell. The man is tall. His eyes and hair and beard are dark, but his skin is a ghostly white. At least it would be, were it not bathed in the blood red of the sunset sky. He's adorned in what I can only describe as a robe, black and long, with a mantle of scarlet. His hands are clasped behind his back. I clear my throat and make to speak, but Rebecca beats me to it. Hello, she begins, are you okay?

The man's eyes flicker from me to her, but he says nothing. He runs his tongue along his upper teeth, then takes a sudden step forward. A wave of nausea flows up from my gut, but the man steps up to us. He raises his hand, an offer to shake, and Rebecca takes it. He offers it to me, and I do likewise, out of wary but ingrained politeness. He grins wide. Good evening, he says, his accent thick in Spanish. My name is Bistako, Bistako Carisire.

A pleasure to meet the two of you out here in the flats. A real, real pleasure. Blake, I reply, and Rebecca introduces herself. I struggle to formulate words. This man unsettles and disturbs me in a way I find hard to articulate. So, Pish Stako, what are you doing here? I mean, I laugh awkwardly. What the hell is going on?

Where is everyone? He nods gravely, as if I had said something of him. immense importance. The sun is setting, he says, gesturing to the sky with a large hand. Time grows short. I must show you something. Please, come with me. I exchange a look with Rebecca.

She rolls her tongue around her mouth. Are you with a talk group? The man does not respond. I don't think you are, are you? She asks quietly, as a shiver. A fear passes between us. No, Carasiri replies, and again he takes her hand in his. She lets him.

But I do have something to show you. If you would follow me, just for a little, I waver where I stand. I am overcome with a sensation that I am standing on the edge of a great black cliff. But just as soon as the feeling hits me, it has passed. Cadizier's eyes flicker back to mine. They are so, so dark, dark and deep. They glitter with sparkles of red reflected in the water at our feet. You have to do things while you have the chance.

Rebecca murmurs, my own words, repeated back to me. You might not get another. I draw some air in through my teeth. Rebecca, I begin, I don't know about this. I try to lower the intensity of the situation to put a hold on the shimmering tension. Guys, let's just stay here all right. Let's wait for the bus. Someone will come for us.

They'll come back. Cadizher returns without another word and strides dead east directly towards the sun, melting into a shimmering red puddle and bleeding out into the water above the invisible horizon. Something has changed Rebecca's attitude clearly, as she makes the decision to follow him across the plane. Rebecca, I call after her, Rebecca! But she does not stop.

She turns around, though. She casts me a fleeting glance, and, with gritted teeth, I too follow on. The dark figure and the woman in the brimmed hat, three lonely shadows amidst the world of reflections and mirrors and water and sky. This is insane.

but I don't know what else to do We walk for surely no more than 10 or 15 minutes But the distance we cover feels disproportionately large Paradoxically so as our surroundings remain identical Where I to compare my view now with my view from the moment I had stepped off the bus The two would appear identical Identical but for the changing colours of the sky and salt Mr Carasiri comes to a stop

and turns back to us, his robes swishing around in an arc about his legs. Before you lies the miracle of the flats, he says. There is no grandeur or theatrics in his voice, just simple statement. There is, as before, a distance between him and Rebecca and I of about ten feet. Look down at the gate before you, he says, and we do so. I blink. The motion is slow and heavy. I look down at my feet, and there, in the water between us,

I see that the reflection is different. A reflection is different to all the water that surrounds us in the endless miles to the horizon. Soutly so, but different all the same. The reflection is reversed. The clouds are flipped vertically in a bizarre and confusing illusion, as they drift slowly across the sky and the water. In this patch right here, they drift the opposite way. I look up above me in confusion, expecting to see the same spectacle in the sky,

but it is not there. I look down to the water again, my mind struggling to comprehend. I don't understand, I say. It is the gate, the man says simply. His voice is free from the dry and see. tickling mouth sounds that accompany the words of Rebecca and I, desperate for water, for drinkable moisture. He looks over his shoulder and the Redson connects with its reflection in the water.

The two are joined. We have only three minutes before the sun is lost, he says. To see the wonders that lie through the gate, you must put all else aside and stride through, as if it were a door standing right in front of you. I just don't get it, I say, a little angry now, despite the fear. What the hell is going on? Where is the bus? Why have you led us here? Just stop this now, please. The man regards me cautiously. He says nothing but gestures to the water.

He looks back to Rebecca and sucks a strand of saliva that is slipped down the side of his lower lip back into his mouth. It must be now, he says, to see the wonders through the a shimmering gate, I will not offer again. Rebecca, I say, let's just go. Come on, let's just go back, back the way we came. The bus could return at any minute. But she is mesmerized, mesmerized by the shimmering water that does not reflect as it is supposed to. It's okay, Blake, she says softly.

Just step through, urges the voice of Carisiri. Just step forwards and walk through the gate. You will feel the sensation as one falling in a dream, but do not allow yourself to be jerked awake. Ride the feeling through and out the other side. The wonders await you, Rebecca. The sun sets. Go now if you will go, before it is too late.

And to my horror, she does. Without another word, she closes her eyes and steps forwards. exhaling as she does so. I wait for a foot to splash down in the water to connect with the salt beneath. But it does not. There is no salt beneath.

Down she goes in a great arc. Her other foot rises in turn and she does not brace herself as she falls. Her hair blows out behind her and a hat, caught at an angle, splashes into the water behind her. It is left behind. But Rebecca,

disappear. She falls right through the impossible water beneath us, and she vanishes. She meets her reflection, and the water shimmers and flickers. There are lights, I realise, lights beyond the water, catching on the edges of shapes and spires, but the vision is a droplet. The ripples evaporates it from view.

I look from the water, to the man, back to the water, and then back to he. What the hell have you done? I manage. Where did she go? His eyes are white now. His grinned fierce. He stares down at the impossible reflection between us, at the gate. Where did she go? The sun sets Blake, says the man. His face shrouded in shadow.

His body tipped and lined in red at the edges. But despite the shadow, I watch as the lines and appearance of his face transforms. his lips peel back and the shadowed bone teeth of a wild dog stretches out from his gums they snap and foam and his tongue longer now than it was before runs hungrily across them

will you go Blake make your choice I stagger back in alarm no I won't so be it Cowdy Siri replies and down he goes in that sweeping arc he

falls suddenly forwards and makes no effort to brace himself against the splash. The splash, which does not come. He meets his reflection, the two become one, and he vanishes through the gate. Again, I see those glimmers and flickers of light beyond, and once again, they are lost, and I am truly alone now. My head spins and the sun disappears. I panic. I put my hands to my head.

Rebecca, I shout. Rebecca! But there is no response. In the heated moment of desperation, I tried to follow. I tried to see what lies beyond. Rebecca was caught in his spell, I realise. I can save her.

I jump on the gate. I try to push my hands through, my face. But each time, I hit only water and salt. There is no way through. Not for me. Even as the world darkens from red to purple, I try to emulate what they did. I tip myself forwards.

I fall and try my best not to brace. But each time I simply strike the salt with a painful splash and a cry of frustration. Night falls and my madness grows. It transforms from a will to save Rebecca to a desperate, no one craving to see what lies on the other side, to see, to know. But, try as I might, no matter what it is that I do, I cannot get through.

I just can't. I awaken, shivering and soaked, huddled up into a ball, roused by the sounds of voices. My sunglasses have fallen from my person, and so I squint to the light of the burning morning sun. The voices are in Spanish. "'Caudy!' I shout suddenly, thinking for a moment that the dark man is returned. where is Rebecca? Where did you take her? Show me, Carasiri.

The English, amongst the people around me, tried to calm me down, but I don't fail to catch the Bolivians drawing back, and sharing a clear look of alarm. Come on, someone says to me, attempting to help me back to my feet. Let's get you back. No, I shout, pushing them away and splashing back in my elbows. I have to see, I have to see. But they lift me up as a team, grabbing me beneath the arms,

and hauling me to a near. by helicopter. I hadn't even heard it land. Wait! I shout, twisting my head, turning to get a look behind me at the gate. But the gate, if there ever truly was one, has vanished. There is only a blood-drenched, wide-brimmed hat

caught in a thick puddle of red that stains the salt that's perfect, sparkling water. I don't care what the authorities told me. I didn't listen to the warnings of the Bolivians. I know what I saw I will return and always see for myself the source of the lights the edges of the sparkling

and shimming world beneath the water I'll get myself through that gate I swear it I swear it