CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "If you pull your teeth out in your dreams, don't throw them away" Creepypasta

Episode Date: September 17, 2021

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by Frequent-Cat: 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►by Valeria Versace: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/N5...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-

The meaning of dreams have been debated for years. For some, their images stitched together by the mind. They're on the fuel of stress and watch it light up in a mirage of strange sequences. To others, they hold a much deeper value. Some believe one can tap into clairpoint levels of abilities through the veil of sleep. Just a few searches into sleep paralysis and astral projection can lead you down the deepest of rabbit holes. But I'm now in the mindset that the less you know, the better.

Due to the pandemic, I've been stuck doing online classes for months. I felt a bit stunting to my social skills to be holding all day. Sure, it's fun to stay in when you choose to, but not seeing people, even when forced to, started to set in that feeling of cabin fever.

Luckily, for me, I still had people online to talk to on a regular basis. I was in a Discord server of a Twitch streamride watch, but with all servers, clicks formed and off-topic channels were filled with casual conversation. This is where I met someone I messed with almost instantly. His name was Mark.

We were about the same age, and it turned out we had a lot in common. The only big difference between us was that Mark was based on the East Coast and I was on the West. We would chat away most nights, sometimes hop and call while watching said streamer, and it turned into a nice little comfort for both of us. The only downside was that Mark had to leave earlier than me to sleep due to the time difference. Because we were both nearing our last year of school, we egged each other on to sleep at a good hour. Sounds nerdy, I know, but it was a nice side of peer pressure you don't hear about much.

We really did encourage each other for the better. Go ask that girl out, the worst you can say is no. Sure, let's watch that harum anime. I don't care if it looks a bit cringe. I don't know what Nightcore is, but I'll listen to it with you. The only way I can describe our dynamic was aggressively wholesome. When we weren't messing around, we actually studied together. Crazy I know.

If not, sometimes Mark found interesting topics to learn about. Obscure things like how certain products are made or videos about lore of old games. But this is where I started to notice something. He always had to be doing something And even if he was veiled beneath a layer of productivity It was unhealthy sometimes how much he didn't want to slow down I found out why when we started to become more open about our lives It took a few weeks

But what started as telling him about my parents turned into this call of revelations and life I found out he was raised by a single mom that he used to be quite athletic But ever since injuring himself pretty badly he'd been a shutting and gained weight, and the strangers of all, that he was plagued by nightmares. I figured they were just night terrors, the results of an overactive mind.

After all, he was never not mentally stimulated. No matter what, he'd always be lethargic around 10pm to midnight. If he wasn't asleep by then, he'd pass out on call. So, this was why he had such a routine sleep time. In his dreams, his night terrors were consistent. He'd be stalked by what he called, the visitor. The visitor would wait until an opportune moment and attack.

If Mark was caught, he'd be lethargic all day. However, if he evaded him, he'd wake up refreshed. Now, my first thoughts were logical. If he was caught, it was probably because of restless sleep, maybe some form of sleep apnea. This would explain why he'd be told. die the following day, and if he succeeded in evading the visitor, it was just him getting a good night's sleep. It was easy to explain things away as an irregular sleep habit. However, when I brought up my

own strange dream one day, he started to freak out on me. I told him about an odd dream where I reached into my mouth and pulled a tooth out, a common strange dream that a lot of people have had. I only told him to see if I could empathise with this issue of night terrors. Maybe if we could relate, and he realizes that other people have strange dreams too, who would be more relaxed about having them? But the opposite happened. He immediately bombarded me with questions. How many did he take out?

Did you keep them? Did you see anyone around when you did it? Did you give them to anyone? I could hear the panic in his voice, so I tried answering them the best I could. that I only took one. I was on my own. I just took it out, felt it missing and woke up. It took a while, but the only way to fully calming down was to promise him something that I'd tell him if the tooth was missing the next time I dreamt. It was a few days later when I finally

had another dream, but in it I distinctly remembered having all my teeth. He immediately felt better and let things be. Not long ago, school started to started to open up and we spoke to each other less. We were both getting back to our own lives. Our fling of views in each other for social energy was dwindling since seeing real people again. At least this was the case for me. During a catch-up call, I found out that though my life was getting back on track, he was struggling.

He told me that he kept getting caught by the visitor, that being lethargic in school was affecting his grades and his social status. He was getting singled out for looking haggard all the time. I felt awful. I really did. But all I could do was offer my condolences. Or so I thought. Because he proposed something crazy.

Mark came out with a strangest concept. He told me that if he made an offering to the visitor in his dream, he could pass him onto someone else. I almost laughed. But with how serious he sounded, realized quickly that it wasn't the time. I offhandedly said sure. It seemed like a placebo to me.

If he would feel better to pass on his phantom and it worked, we'd both be all the better. He seemed to almost try to talk me out of it, but quickly just left it at that. Very soon he went to bed, and that was that. I started feeling tired a few hours later and did the same. Everything was different. As soon as I closed my eyes, in what felt like the same second, I was standing in an unfamiliar place.

It felt so real, yet I could sense that it wasn't, like I knew it was a dream, but without control. I wandered around, touching the walls, feeling the textures and smelling the acrid air. The whole area was grungy. The walls decayed beyond repair. The layout was linear, like the halls of a hospital or a school. The air was rich with a putrid smell of damp and rot. It was dark too, but my eyes adjusted enough that I could navigate, though at a slow pace. The only noises made was my footsteps and bumps from the occasional times I knocked into one of the many broken and discarded furniture.

After hitting my shin and a particularly low table, another noise followed, and it wasn't from me. I froze, and in the silence I heard a thunk. Then another and another in quick succession. Heavy footsteps, it was heading my way. I slipped away the way I came, trying to remember all the obstacles I'd run into. No matter how quickly I thought I was going, I was held back by how fast I could move in the dark. But my pursuer didn't seem to have the same limitation. When I realized that I could now run the thing, I dipped into one of the rooms and ducked behind a desk.

I heard the skulking figure reach where I was and slow down. What were frantic thunks were now the soft stalking of contemplation. I heard the thing pushing around the scattered furniture outside, flipping and opening them like presents on Christmas morning. I heard the squealing of the door opening and realized there was only one option left. I smelled it. before I saw it, the damp stench from the doorway, emanating in warm bursts. In a hoff the door opened. It stepped in, and it wasn't hard to find me.

Before I could scramble away, I was pulled up by my neck and dragged away. The thing's arms was taut, yet I didn't pass out from the asphyxiation. I was dragged hard on the ground, my back scraped for all with no relent. Yet the moment I peered at the thing, it was running upright, which showed how unnatural its arm proportions were. My shoulders were battered from smashing into tables and chairs. Shards of wood was sticking out of me, and from how limp my right arm was dangling, I realized it had been yanked out of its socket many turns ago.

However, things didn't end there. I was pulled in what was more of a chamber than a room. The walls were moist slick with a strange bile. The floor was a vile mess of slosh. I gave no resistance as I was pressed into a pile of ranted mush And that's where it started to have its fun It was sloppy in its work More having fun than trying to actually achieve anything

It picked up my eye with his equivalent of fingernails Scraping the layers away Any protests I made only made it faster Eventually the glass-like texture of my eye popped And his finger sank in Enjoying the squelching sounds it made I felt everything. Yet, no matter how much pain I endured, there was no inkling of passing out.

I felt each toe it popped out of the joint, snapped off and eaten like popcorn. No fingernail was spared from being peeled away and plagued with. Its movements was almost infantile in curiosity, yet demonic in execution. Even when I was just a mess of gore after hours of this torment, barely resembling a human, I was still fully awake and aware. I babbled about mercy throughout the session, though it was hard with a ripped out tongue. My remaining eye wept until a slow cast of light started to bleed in from the ceiling. I didn't notice it in the dark, but the middle of the ceiling was a large scarlet window.

As brightness bled in, the creature slowly sulted and wandered off down the hallways. Mixed in with the lumbering footsteps was a deafening. claxon. It blared like an air raid siren until I burst awake. My alarm was going off. It was time for school. Day was hard. Every action I did was layered with a lingering feeling of violation. I was slow and lethargic. My body was sluggish, like I hadn't slipped in days. I was a shell of my former self when people noticed. I was shot comments jabbing me about staying up all night, I was told I looked how I felt. People were distant, like I carried a terrible scent. All I wanted was to go home and sleep. But I couldn't. No matter how much I tried,

I couldn't fall asleep. I tossed and turned on the couch, and though my eyes burned, I couldn't seem to drift off. I barely ate, barely did anything, and at around 10 p.m., I finally managed to sleep, but rest never came. Like before, as soon as I felt myself slip, I was standing in the hallways again. The cycle began once more. I ran, I hid, I was caught. The thing dragged me around at dizzying speeds with no regards to my well-being. It didn't seem to care for its own as it hit obstacles almost as much as I did.

Each idea it improvised was morbidly creative. my body was twisted in ways I didn't think was possible. My bones were splintered, ripped out and reused as more instruments of play. Hours later, I was a mangled mess, a lumber flesh, barely a third of what I once was. And as a warm light bathed me, and the claxon ripped through me, I was awake again in the dead of morning, needing to get ready for school. I had to confront him. I needed to talk to Mark.

He was meek. His voice dripping with guilt. But I could also tell he felt regret. His decision wasn't based on trickery, but desperation. And only after two nights of this, I empathised, because I finally understood exactly what it was he was going through all this time, and he fully opened up.

Every night this happened, you wake fully formed, and the game begins. Mark was unsure if he was better to run or to hide. each had the pros and cons and he could never figure out why one would work one night and not the next to him it seemed to be down to luck there was one constant though

a law that always followed teeth teeth were currency it wasn't until Mark pointed it out but I realised no matter what was torn from me my teeth always remained apparently even if you were torn down to a

strip of ribbons Paul verized into mush, your jaw would remain, and you'd be back to how you were the next night. However, any teeth you trade never came back. Mark passed on what he learned through trial and error. At first he found you could leave a tooth to the visitor, and it had stopped the curse that night, something he'd done a few times. However, once he realised this was finite, he stopped. This was all well and good, but I had a burning question of my mind.

Mark, how do I get rid of it? Well, I mean, I couldn't seem to figure it out. Maybe you'll have better look. Then how do I give it back? He'd been very chatty while opening up, but once that burning question left my lips, he fell silent. All I heard was a quiet whimper,

the beginnings of a sob, before he hung up. All attempts to get through was blocked from how fast he went offline. I was furious. I thought he had things figured out, but all he did was pointed off onto me. I mean, sure, he asked, and I said yes,

but I had no idea what I was truly signing myself up for. I wanted to smash something. I was livid, but my energy was gone. I thought I was calming down, but dread set in when I realized why. It had just crossed 10 p.m. The lethargy was starting. This time, I mentally prepared myself.

When I was ready, I psyched myself up for the hunt and closed my eyes in bed. I zipped around the corridors, ever moving. I made sure I never even grazed an obstacle. When I did get the attention of the thunking footsteps, I searched for anything I could carry. When it was around the corner, I dipped behind something and threw the object as far as I could. This led the creature away. My friendship with Mark may have been dead to me, but his advice was helpful, which meant he was at least trying to be truthful with me. The hard part was keeping up the charade for hours.

Throughout the night was burst of wandering, intense moments of evasion, but having lasted so long, I found myself able to fully explore the place. Each room was different. Though some were gutted beyond recognition, some were full. fully furnished rooms, and just once I found some documents scattered around. This is where I found the first clue. The visitor hears, he doesn't see. That was the only one I found that night, and for many nights after. Each night was different.

Sometimes the visitor was easy to escape. Mark wasn't lying. When you survived the night, you woke up feeling like your best self. All the fatigue of escaping the creature was gone. and you felt like you slept a thousand perfect nights. But some nights he'd be rampant. The usual trickery wouldn't work, and I would be torn apart ferociously for hours on end.

Meanwhile, Mark was impossible to get a hold of. He didn't seem to have the heart to block me, but he was blanking any attempts at contact. There wasn't a set pattern when I'd find a new note, and they were never consistent on their presentation. Sometimes they'd be in a blood-soaked slipper paper, scratched on the walls. What I pieced together was interesting. In this nightmare world, teeth were everything. They were a form of currency that was

immensely valuable and finite. You could spend a tooth here and there to stop being chased. However, there were ways to do big spends. For ten teeth, you could pass on the visitor to someone willing, or for all of your teeth, you can send it to someone unwilling. It seems simple, but get things wrong and you could be stuck with a visitor for life, however long that had last. I knew Mark would never willingly take it back, and he took advantage of me to begin with. He played dirty, and so I had to as well. I called around every 7-11 in his town. It took a while, but eventually I was put through to who I was looking for. Hello, is this Linda? Yes, can I ask who's calling? She was obviously a bit

nervous that a stranger was calling. Oh, don't worry, I'm a friend of Marx. This is his mom, right? Oh, yeah, is everything all right? I had the right person, and at this, she sounded more open to talk. Well, I remember he wasn't doing too well a few years. weeks ago, but he's doing better now. I'm worried things might go back to how they were, and I was wondering if you could help me help him. Oh, well, I didn't do anything before. It was just a sleep issue. I don't think there'd be any way I could help.

I was losing her. Well, if there was, would you do it? I knew a way, if you're willing to take the burden. She paused for a moment. The drone of the phone making me nervous. I mean, sure. If this aware I can help Mark, I always would. I do anything for my boy.

Did he ever tell you about the visitor? I was banking that he did tell her, or at least tried to. I had to make sure she knew what it was, even if she didn't believe it. The recurring nightmares he had. Sure, he told me about it. What does that have to do with anything? Here came the line I'd rehearse. many times in my head, planned out to a specific phrasing.

Would you be willing to take it, if you could, that is, to help Mark? She paused once more, letting the line hang for a moment. This was my make-or-break point. If she left now and told Mark, he'd know what I was up to. I'd lose. I don't know what this is about. Is this a joke? No, no, no, no, no.

I'm just asking that, if given the chance, would you take his burden to help him? He's brightened up so much lately that it'd be ashamed to lose that. I felt dirty saying this. I knew full well what I was doing, but for everything to work out, it had to be done. Sure, I mean, great, thank you so much for talking with me. Wait, what happened with, and who I... I hung up before she could finish. I knew she wanted to talk more.

but I got what I wanted. All I had to do then was wait. I only had one shot for everything to work. That night I counted how many teeth I had. 30 exact. After triple checking, fatigue once again set in, and I passed out on my bed. My eyes opened in the bleak hallway.

Instead of hiding, I waited. It didn't take long for the footsteps to find me. As it got closer, It picked up its pace. It thunked and thunked at my scent. I even tapped on a table next to me to make sure it didn't get lost. Just as it was about to turn the last corner, I reached into my mouth and slid out a molar.

It came out surprisingly easy. It seemed that though my body worked how it did in the real world, here it almost wanted me to pull them out. That was an ominous thing to dwell on for too long. I threw it on the floor and the visitor stood. stopped right in front of it. It slowly lifted the bone to its face, sniffing and feeling it with its strange digits.

Satisfied, it gulped it down excitedly. Even though it was only a morsel in size, it relished it like it was a full coarse meal. I took a deep breath and continued with my plan. I slid out ten more teeth. Though they came out easy, the pain was still there. After coughing the leaking fluids, I tossed them like a poker player flinging chips while trying to bluff.

It seemed to count them, and when sure of the number, a horse whisper said one thing. Name. Linda Cook, was all I said. After that, the visitor just limped away, and I was left alone for the night. When I woke up, I woke up refreshed. When I slept that night, I was out like a light.

I closed my eyes, woke up the morning after like normal. I felt great that I no longer went to the visitor's domain, but a twinge guilt washed over me at the thoughts of what Linda must have went through. It seemed everything I thought was right. My phone buzzed non-stop the whole day from Mark and a bunch of other numbers,

which I could only presume was Mark borrowing other's phones in case I blocked him. My computer was filled with messages, detailing everything he was going to do to me, and what he was doing to make it happen. What he threatened was much worse than what the visitor ever did to me, and I could tell he was serious. Since then, he got Linda to pass it back to him. This meant a few things.

For a start, Linda is at least down 11 teeth. Mark is also down 11, plus whatever he's spent to have some nights free from the hunt. I feel like he has enough teeth that pass it on once more to someone willing. but if he gets it back, he'd be cursed for life. This was my plan. Now, if he passes it on to me, he knows I'd trade all my bones to give it back. He wouldn't give it back to Linda for any reason, which means one thing. He's looking for another.

So, be warned if you meet a friendly guy named Mark from the East Coast of the USA. He likes anime like Demon Slayer and Jiu-Tzu Kaysen. He plays League of Legends and is quite good at it. He is very relatable and is great to talk to about personal things. If he starts talking about bad dreams, be careful. Because there's a chance. It's my mark, looking to use the last of his teeth.