CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "I'm an Uber driver for one client, but he pays well" Creepypasta

Episode Date: October 22, 2024

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by CreepsMcPastaCreepypastas 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►SUGGESTED CREEPYPASTA PLAYLISTS-►"Good Places to Start"-    • "I wasn't careful enough on the deep ...  ►"Personal Favourites"-    • "I sold my soul for a used dishwasher...  ►"Written by me"-    • "I've been Blind my Whole Life" Creep...  ►"Long Stories"-    • Long Stories  FOLLOW ME ON-►Twitter:   / creeps_mcpasta  ►Instagram:   / creepsmcpasta  ►Twitch:   / creepsmcpasta  ►Facebook:   / 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

Most Uber drivers serve a wide variety of customers. Some probably have never seen the same person more than once. But I've been serving the same person for almost a year now. At first, it was a coincidence. He lived relatively close to me, so when I accepted the ride and picked him up, he, for some reason, seemed relieved that someone had come. Then I saw why.

His route was a four-hour ride all the way to the nearby seaside town. A town often visited in the summer months, but he was heading there in late autumn. I figured people cancelled on him once they saw the route, so my accepting it gratified him. I needed the money, so I figured it was worth the time. He was quiet the whole car ride and never spoke as he left, not even a thank you for making this absurd trip. And being new to Uber, I started to realise why experienced riders would decline such a route. I was stuck in the town with barely anyone doing anything since it was outside of peak activity. I made a few routes for some locals, trying to scrape some extra cash before heading back.

but it was nowhere near the rates of the city where I lived. Dejected, I was ready to head back when I saw a ding near where I dropped the guy off. I accepted, and to my surprise, it was him. The route was the taken back home, another four-hour ride, which would make the day's profits far higher than if I'd done a whole day in the city.

ecstatic at the thought I drove him back again in complete silence until I dropped him off and called it a day overall it was a strange sequence of events and at the time one I did not want to repeat until I saw the tip he had left a hefty 30% tip on top of the already expensive ride both ways For someone struggling for money, this was a godsend. When I accepted a route the next day and went to the location, I was surprised to see that it was him again. The route was readying for a four-hour ride back to the seaside town. It was obviously strange that he would go so far yet again, two days in a row.

But knowing what he was paying, I accepted again. This time I didn't even bother doing any of the local routes there. I just hung around and grabbed a drink with the app open, the map hovering where I dropped him off. And, like clockwork, around two hours later, a ding popped. I quickly finished the drink and accepted the ride, and it was him, ready to go home. I relaxed when I finished my shift and lit up when I saw the ride.

that yet again, he dropped a 30% bonus on top. The next day, when I started my routine of checking the app, I was doubtful that he would want to go there again. It was preposterous that he even went twice like that, but a lingering hope in the back of my head made me check if there were any roots around where I picked him up. And my jaw dropped when I saw one there, exactly where I usually picked him up. This set my routine for the next few months. Every weekday, I would start up my app at around 8 a.m., driving to the town, wait around two hours, and then driving back,

each time getting a juicy 30% tip on top. God knows if he did this on the weekend with someone else, but I was not going to do this seven days a week. I'm not a very talkative person, but I sometimes try to start a conversation, but I'm just met with silence. I even tried to offer my personal number, in case he wanted to do this outside of Uber, so they wouldn't scrape their fees from the payment and make it cheaper for him. But no, he would just look out the window and watch the roadside, eyes glazed over, lost in thought. so when he finally spoke, I nearly jumped.

The town means a lot to me, he said. His voice sounded like someone who had just woken up, making me wonder if this was the first time he'd spoken to anyone in a long time. I froze, but didn't want to pass up the opportunity of knowing more. So, I asked why. He opened up about his connection. to the place, that he used to go there often, and now that he was no longer working, just wanted to spend his days there.

I asked him if he was retired. He said that he wasn't, but that he lived off of passive income that supported his lifestyle. It was intriguing learning about his unique circumstances, and despite the long ride, we soon neared the location, and he quietened up. On the way home, he talked about the situation. the things he liked there, the local ice cream shop that made their own flavors, the bike rentals that let you see the scenes in good time. The corpse I shopped around was suddenly animated to life with nostalgia, even recommended places for me to go, somehow knowing that I now

waited for his ride back. I dropped him off with a smile, excited to learn more the day after. When I got home, my eyes widened when I checked the Uber app. He slammed me with a 50% tip, far exceeding what he had tipped before. I almost wanted to return it, but I didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth. It helped me so much with my financial issues, and he seemed to have an endless source of income to have supported this strange lifestyle. The day after, I tried asking him, more questions. I was curious about more of the local experiences and his connection to them.

Despite having been there so much, I knew next to nothing about the place. But I was only met with stone-cold silence. It was like he had reverted back to how he was, just solemnly looking out the window the whole ride. The way back was all the same. It seemed he had expended his burst of social energy and fell back into his usual routine. I tried again the day after and was met with more silence. The tips reverted back to 30%. Nothing to scoff at, but short of the big payday I was after. A while went by like this.

A silent ride there, a silent ride back, sandwich between visiting the few spots he recommended, which were just as good as he had hiked them up to be. Yet, despite visiting all the places he mentioned, he would never be there. Maybe it was a coincidence. We would always miss each other, having gone to different spots. The time only allowed me to see one, maybe two, depending on where I went. But after weeks of this, surely we would have lined up at least once.

I was jolted again in the middle of a minute. midweek drive. He broke the silence with another nugget of information. I go there to see my wife, he said bluntly. This answer raised so many questions. Long distance is often almost entirely reserved for young people or people who cannot afford to move in together. But he was neither of those. Before I could ask him about it, he went on. He spoke of how much he loved seeing her, describing how she looked, middle-aged, full blonde hair with a button nose, slender but not too slim. He was infatuated, glowing as he spoke,

not only animated, but happy, a sharp contrast to how he usually seemed, so much so that I didn't want to interrupt him with my curious, yet benign questions. Sadly, he only started talking near the end of the trip, so by the time an opportunity came up to ask him my questions, we were pulling up to his stop. I waited around, too curious to do much in the town, only grabbing some food and waiting with excitement. After spending so much time with him, I was invested in his story, only drip-fed to me in

rare times. When I got the ping, I hurriedly picked him up, my mouth bursting with the questions I had bottled up. I tried to broach the topics calmly. I asked him why they lived apart, why he didn't just live in the town, and why they only see each other for such a small window each day. I did so as politely as possible, but was only met with a silence I was all too familiar with when I got home. I had two amounts for the trips. A 50% tip on the way there and only 30% for the way back. A curious hint about how he wanted things on the plus side. I was able to start living how I wanted. The first thing I reinvested in was a new car. I was spending so much on fuel, so to get something more economical was basically an investment, though the

luxury extras were me treating myself. Then I felt too scruffy to be seen in the thing, so I even got some nice new clothes, standout brands that would make it look like I didn't just steal the car from the lot. It took a good few months before he spoke again. I was scared my probing questions that offended him. but when he spoke he dropped some heavy information answering my questions

as if I'd only just ask them the reason we don't live together is because she died he said dejectedly my heart sank this answered a surprising amount of my questions the whole bizarre routine

started to make more sense It was a saddening twist of the tale that was being drip-fed to me. He told me stories of their time together, that she was with him from rags to riches, and that despite making something out of himself, he said that he cannot share the fruits of their labour together. This explained why he frivolously spent on Uber's every weekday just to keep up this ritual.

This time, he talked to almost the entire four, hour right there. He shared personal details about the relationship, the ups and downs, the things he didn't realize he'd miss until she was gone. It was touching and really progressed me emotionally for when I finally meet someone worth sharing my life with. When he exited the car, he shared one piece of final wisdom. It's the routines that matter. Make sure you keep up a good routine. This way, you never forget what happened. It was cryptic enough to apply to many things. I chose to hold onto it and to hopefully fully know the meaning of this proverb.

The ride back was silent, but in a good way, resting in the good energy of openness. I got home to a 50% tip both ways, and I felt content that we finally had a report. The day after, I asked him more questions about his wife. He seemed more animated and alive when talking about her, so I hoped that I could breathe some new sense of purpose for him. Even if it meant I would lose out on this amazing Uber gig, I would feel content to see him relive his life. However, when I looked back in the rearview mirror,

he was looking out the window, silent like before. I tried to probe once more, but we were back to our usual routine. The following weeks were the same. Each time I thought I had made enough progress to get to know him, he closed up. It was only when I tried to start conversation, so I noted that it always had to be him. No exception. So I waited. And eventually, the day came when the silence was once again.

broken one week from now. We'll be the anniversary, he muttered. My heart sank, but this was just the beginning of the heart-wrenching details. He told me how things happened from his perspective. He said they went to the seaside town for a few days, booked a nice hotel, and planned to spend a few days there just to relax. It was the start of autumn, but it was also there. anniversary. They didn't care that it would be cold and that it would basically be a ghost town.

They just wanted to share their special day together in the place that meant the most to them. This touching scenario was ripped from my gut as he explained what actually happened. They were walking near the pier. It was early afternoon, broad daylight, when he lost sight of her while distracted for only a moment. There weren't many people around, and not many places she could have gone. Yet despite this, he couldn't find her afterwards. He looked nearby, and when that didn't work, he checked places they usually went to. He even went back to the hotel to see if she had maybe forgotten something and went back.

Empty. He couldn't believe she had just vanished, so he waited around spots they frequented, occasionally switching locations to see if she'd be there. When it started getting dark, he reluctantly called the police to file a report. He was assured she was probably lost, not being local on all, and that this happened often. So they sent out a few search parties to check around, but days went by and nothing was found. It was only after a week that she was found. and hearing it was like a punch in the gut.

She was found floating below the pier. Despite the scenario that she had maybe fallen in, evidence showed she was abducted and brought back there. Fowl play was immediately ruled in. The sea washed away all forensics, so it was already a cold case. I was devastated hearing this. Yet despite this,

He held a hopeful smile, maybe clinging on to the cherished memories rather than the grim ending. But this story was followed by a request. The next Wednesday was going to be their anniversary date. He asked that I'd be around to make sure I could take him to the seaside town. Without hesitation, I wholeheartedly agreed. I even offered my personal number in case something happened, but he politely declined. The ride home was silent, but with an air of solemn optimism.

A hope lingered in the air. No words were exchanged, nor did they need to be. I now felt I was doing something bigger than myself, a duty to the calmer of the universe. When I got home, I checked the app and was hit with an 80% tip both ways. A hint that said to make sure I was ready on Wednesday, and I was. When I picked him up, I was surprised. From the cocoon of a dreary middle-aged man emerged a dapper gentleman. He wore an elegant long black peacoat over a suit that wasn't

too formal, but definitely stood out. The day was chilly, so his hands sat in nice fur-lined leather gloves. This was the sharpest contrast from what I'd seen in the many months I'd been with him. I felt like an underdressed chauffeur rather than an Uber driver. I smiled without a chauffeur hat to tip and proceeded to the town. The silence was pleasant this time around, lingering with a sense of hope and wonder. I fully believed that he was there to enjoy the memories of his time with his departed wife, and I smiled the whole ride, hoping he got what he wanted from this endeavour. This time, he spoke on the way back. I did it. It was exactly like before, he yelled animatedly. He described doing everything like he remembered, that it was just like before,

and that he felt a strong connection to her. Even said he might be able to move on. Which stung a little, the thought that this routine could come to an end. But he topped it off with a feeling that this routine made him too happy, and that for the foreseeable future, this will continue. When I got home, I was met with his biggest tip yet. 100%. I was happy, he was happy. It was the best day of my life, living it vicariously through this interesting,

man I'd became acquainted with. The rest of the week was silent bliss. Each day, he'd tip 100% both ways, his new standard for my dedication to his routine. I relaxed on the weekend, sitting back in a nice restaurant, a multiple course meal lined up, a far cry from the ramen I'd become accustomed to many months ago. I had started living my life,

not just because of the generous source of income, but to strive to be more like my inspirational passenger, until my phone dinged with a notification. It was the weekend, so it couldn't be Uber, and when I checked, I saw it was a news notification. I'd spent so much time in the seaside town that I sometimes got news notifications from the area, my phone's location thinking I reside there.

It was an emergency notification about a missing person. The picture looked familiar, yet it was someone I'd never seen before. Middle-aged, full blonde hair and a button nose. Slender, but not too slim. It wasn't someone I'd seen before. But it was someone I remember having imagined, almost exactly how the man described his late wife. The details chilled me.

She went missing in the early afternoon, near the pier. No other details were known, just that they were still currently looking for a whereabouts. My heart sank. He didn't just say the day went well. He said it went exactly like before. It didn't take a genius to piece together what might have happened. He was a man of routine, and I guess this constituted as his new ritual.

But as I looked at the food in front of me, the new car outside, and the nice clothes I could finally afford I couldn't bring myself to turn him in.