CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "It came from my wallpaper" Creepypasta

Episode Date: November 14, 2023

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by Saturdead: / it_came_from_my_wallpaper 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...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

The festival season is Aangbroken, and that betekent mudder. And so, ging Kim to come to comest-com. On the look at a waterdict tent, a comfortable luget,

oh, so, knus, and Lupeart print regalarze. Miao! Now, Kim's no longer to make over the modder. Net so as the dancing the modder man,

that, oh, wait just even, has he now only modder on? Oh, yeah, only modder. DROG blithe? Goar for. Find what you need

you need to be on Amazon. I got a job in San Diego, not too long after the pandemic settled. It was an exciting time, but I was also anxious about finding a place to live. I didn't have that much saved up, so I had to find somewhere a bit more lenient to newcomers. I signed up to all kinds of lists and tenant groups, but most leads were dead in the water. The only places within my price range had a no-pet-splice place. policy, and I couldn't bring myself to re-home my cat, Marmalade.

Poor thing was just a year old and a complete Mama's Girl. After weeks of searching, I stumbled upon a landlord with a vacant spot. He hadn't even got the time to list it. All I'd seen was a post about a cheap apartment. I messaged him spontaneously and asked about it. Turns out, the previous tenant had passed away. It was on the fourth floor, not too far off Main Street, and surprisingly cheap, cat-friendly too.

He offered me a deal. If I paid for the clean-up crew, the place was mine. I couldn't say no. Once the place was cleaned up, I met up with my new landlord and got the keys handed to me. My new place was on the top floor of this beautiful old building. building, made somewhere back in the 50s. Cool, stone-tiled floors, spacious ceiling, and plenty of sunlight coming in from the body-sized windows. It was a sort of French balcony with a little space to smoke or a mini-garden.

There was a large living room area, a tiny kitchenette, and a cramped little bedroom on the sunny side. It wasn't much, but I could see myself growing attached to it. You could tell it was old though. There were all kinds of little quirks, a lock that you had to jiggle, pipes that rumbled a little whenever you took a shower, and you could immediately tell if one of your neighbors were smoking because of the terrible ventilation. It was far from perfect, but for that price at that location, I could ask for a better deal.

The one thing that dated it more than anything else, however, was the strange 70s wallpaper. This intricate floral pattern covered most of the living room, along with the western wall of the bedroom, a dark grey base colour with lines of white, rose, tulips, sunflowers, all in variations of silver and blue. It was beautiful, in a sort of primitive art deco kind of way. But you could tell it was old. I promised myself to get it replaced if I were to live there long term. It didn't take long to move in. I didn't have much in the way of furniture,

and I didn't really have the money to bring in something new. I figured I'd settle for what little I had for the time being, instead of focusing on getting used to my new job. I was working as a full-time consultant for a telecom company, mostly focusing on process management and evaluation. Might not sound that interesting, but you get a lot of wiggle room to really switch things up for the better. Post-pandemic, we were on a routine of a single weekly meeting

and the rest could and would be done from our home office. It felt kind of dumb to force people to come in once a week just because, but if I wanted the job, that was the deal. Marmalade got settled in that place long before I did. She found a sunny spot next to one of the big windows. I set up a cozy basket for her to snuggle into. I, on the other hand, was having trouble sleeping those first few nights. I lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling. I'd lose myself in that view, sort of like when you're looking down into dark waters.

You can't really see where it ends. It is just this perpetual nothing. And you can imagine it continuing forever. That first week went by in a flash. I had my first meeting and got my first assignment. process assessment at one of the branch offices in Pittsburgh, long distance, with an in-person evaluation at the end of a two-month cycle. Nothing I couldn't handle, but said office had a sort of reputation for being unmanageable. It was the kind of assignment you throw at someone

to see if they got the chops for it long term. But first day was mostly meet and greets, with a tiny after work at one of the chic downtown bars. It was mostly an excuse that crack a few cold ones on a Monday. My colleagues were a few decibels louder than I was used to, so I ended up sitting mostly in the background, learning to appreciate a small label dark punky nail. The next day, I was in full work mode. I set up my laptop with a view of my all.

wallpaper to make it look a bit more office-like. Marmalade wasn't moving from a new favorite spot by the window, so there were no fluffy tails in the way of my webcam. I had a long talk with the branch manager, along with a few technicians, to just sort of dip my toe in the water. They were all courteous enough, but I could tell they'd been put through the wringer a couple of times.

This wasn't their first assignment. and it wouldn't be their last. By the end of the day, I was talking with one of the salesmen, a woman named Dirdre. At that point, I'd been in constant Zoom calls for over four hours, and my voice was giving out. Dirdre could tell I was exhausted, and we just ended up talking about other things instead.

My apartment, my job, my cat. I had to bother Marmalade a bit just to shore off. Dirdre showed off her feline companion, a three-year-old rag doll named Popeye. Ironically, that call ended up being my longest, but it went by the fastest. Dirdre was a gem. I spent most of my time setting up questionnaires

and mapping out the overall structure, bouncing emails all the way down the supply chain, trying to get a clear picture of the main. issues. It was the same old story that I'd heard a hundred times before. Management blaming the salesman, the salesman blaming the warehouse and the warehouse blaming the technicians. There were little hitches all the way down the road, ranging from dated inventory systems to useless red tape. After the first few days, I started getting into a routine, ping pong in between meetings and Excel

spreadsheets. Marmalade and I made their apartment into a proper home. Chinese teakot boxes started lining the kitchenette and had a few extra talks with Deirdre just to pass the slow hours. I started getting used to that place, even the awful wallpaper. I stopped hearing the rumbling pipes after a while and the cigarette smoke from the neighbour slowly blended into the background smells. I stopped waking from cars passing on the street below

and my first paycheck went into making the living room look like something that could actually be lived in. I remember one night when I was working overtime. I got a late email about submitting a progress report so I had to stay up making a presentation. I found myself by the opinion that this was looking more and more like a management issue. Who the hell sends this kind of email at 4.50pm on a Thursday, expecting it to be done before lunch the next day?

Unbelievable. I was done by about 10pm when I shambled away from my laptop. I picked up a can of cat food for marmalade and walked over to a favourite window. Only, she wasn't there. Her bed was still there, but more. Marmalade had moved to another window, still sleeping soundly, but she found a new favourite spot. It felt strange in a way, like the entire apartment had shifted a little. Looking up at the wallpaper, I could have sworn the patterns had moved.

It looked identical, just a bit off. I could have sworn it was different, despite looking exactly the patterns. same. It was a strange feeling. Everything felt familiar, but that one little twist made it feel like a new room. I was starting to doubt myself. When looking at Marmalade out of a basket, however, it was clear that something was different. In some way, the next few days, I started to notice this shift in new ways. The walls would look different at night, where at one point, I'd see a sunflower, I'd see a rose the next day. Then again, I wasn't ever really sure,

and I chalked it up to me, just not paying attention. Marmalade would move from spot to spot, never really sure what her favourite ever was. One night, she couldn't settle in at all, instead moving from one window to the next, meowing at me anxiously. That night, as I lay awake, I had my eyes firmly fixed on the wall.

I could imagine the patterns moving on their own, the many flowers gently swaying to an invisible wind. It was just their kind of unreal surrealist thought you catch just before you fall asleep. But in that moment, I could have sworn it was real, living even. As I closed my eyes, I imagined the dark grey background colour to be as deep as an ocean, a darkness stretching into a distant nothing.

The next day, as I was making my morning coffee, I noticed something peculiar. I stepped on a dry blue petal. I couldn't explain where it came from. I had no flowers in my apartment, and the ventilation was so bad that it could barely rotate air. flower petals were out of the question. Marmalade played with it for a while, and I convinced myself that it was just something I dragged in. Still, it reminded me of a flower petal from the blue rose on the wallpaper.

It made me anxious, but I couldn't figure out why. What was I even worried about? I couldn't let that thought go for the rest of the day. that I was missing something obvious, or maybe that there really was something to my strange paranoia. So, at the end of the day, when I talked to Deidre, I brought it up. I explained that there was just something inherently creepy about living there, like an uncomfortable thought tickling your neck when you're not looking. Deidre tried to reassure me, her chuckle coming through my headphones.

It takes time, love, she said. You just got here. Besides, everything looks strange in the dark. Yeah, I just can't shake the feeling, you know, I explained. Like there's something more to it. Like what? I didn't know what to answer. As I stepped into the living room,

I noticed Marmalade rolling on the living room carpet, casually playing with another blue petal. turning on the lights I could see more of them over a dozen dry blue petals lining the edge of the wall finally I could tell I wasn't going crazy

this wasn't a one-time deal that was real Marmalade didn't seem to mind though I'm going to have to get back to you I told Deirdre something came up As the call ended, I started scooping up the petals by hand. The moment my knees hit the floor, there was a power surge.

It was all so quick, a flash of black. Marmalade hissed, looking straight past me. I could hear a rustling noise, like a large animal moving through a brush. As quick as it had come, it went, leaving only a startled, cat and my elevated pulse behind. The lights were slapped back on with a click, blinding me. Marmelaide retreated to behind the couch while I picked up the rest of the petals. For a moment, I just stood there, staring at the many patterns, petals in hand.

I could imagine the grey sinking deeper and deeper, showing me something past the obvious. Like one of those images you have to look at cross-eye. to see the truth. I had the same sensation, like I was missing something obvious. I could imagine hearing things deep in an imagined forest. I could hear branches snapping. I could imagine the blue flowers swaying in the wind.

And somewhere in that depthless dark, something roamed, something looking for an exit. At some point I snapped to attention. It was a loud electronic noise, an alarm. It was already morning. For some alien reason, I'd been stuck there for hours, just staring at the hypnotizing patterns.

An entire night's rest, gone. It wasn't until I stepped away that I realized just how exhausted I really was. My legs had locked in place, killing me over straight to the ston-tiled living-room floor. Marmalade rushed over, worried about this sudden development. I spent a few minutes just sitting there, calming myself down. The ringing from my cell phone was going strong, trying to give me enough time to shower before my first morning meetings.

And yet, I just sat there, slowly petting my cat, my eyes bobbing in and out of sleep my body deprived where had i been all night what had i seen i barely made it through that day having a forty-five minute nap over lunch by the time i finished my last interview i was a shell of my old self barely conscious i filled marmalade's food and water bowl and crawled into bed with all my clothes still on The moment my eyes closed, I could hear something in the distance. In the half-world between sleeping and waking, I heard breaking branches, owls taking flight, and something large approaching. And, despite knowing, I was well and truly alone, my body screamed at me to wake, to have one more luck just in case. I did.

I forced my eyes open. Something sharp scratched against the stone-towd floor. Something retreating in haste, a trail of dry petals leading right up to the side of my bed. After a night of dream asleep, I woke up to choking on something. It took me almost a full minute to cough up a blue petal, several of which had been sprinkled through. throughout my bed. I could have sworn the wallpaper looked a bit lighter, as if several flowers were looking sparse. The whole wall looked a bit darker. That morning I'd had enough. I called in sick and brought up my toolbox. I started scraping off the wallpaper piece by piece across

the entire apartment. I made a day of it, listening to music as Marmalade looked at. at me curiously. Every illustrated petal and stem dropped to the floor, cut by cut, like trimming a paper garden. By the end of the day, my wall was laid bare, revealing nothing but black lead-painted concrete underneath. That night, after a long shower, I went to sleep with wallpaper remains still lining the edge of the room. Finally, I could focus. I could look past the hypnotising patterns. It was done, gone, over, except it wasn't. As I went to sleep, my eyes drifted to the barren walls, a black eternal night,

now unhindered by what little paper-thin barrier had been erected. Just looking at it gave me that feeling in my stomach, like I was falling forward. Even close my eyes felt brighter than staring into it Like it was more than a colour A place At some point in the night I heard this loud yell Looking up I could see marmalade sitting at the edge of my bed

Staring straight at the wall Hissing and raising a hackles Looking straight ahead I saw something There deep in the dark of the bare wall. Something moved. I swooped up Marmalade, who clung to my shoulder like a parrot.

I threw in my pants, shirt, and got my bag. I'd had enough. I wasn't about to stick around to find out the depths of what was either my own sanity or something unnatural entirely. I didn't want to know. As I entered the living room, I stopped dead in my tracks. Every single wall had turned a midnight black. The windows had fogged up from the inside, blocking the moonlight from peeking in.

I ran my hand along the wall, looking for the door. Something cold bumped against the palm of my hand. A finger, I recoiled, almost dropping marmalade in surprise. I couldn't see my door. As I looked around, trying to find out. find my bearings, I slowly came to the realization that nothing was quite as it should. The kitchenette was further away, the windows were further apart, the proportions of the room were off, and seemingly shifting every time I blinked. It was as if everything in that darkness

was untrue, malleable, subtly shifting as soon as I looked away, and so was I. Looking down at my hands, they seemed different with every blink of my eye. They could be older, younger, scarred, masculine. It was impossible to tell. It was just a fuse enough for an anxious mind to fill in the blanks, but it felt like more than that. It wasn't just the fear of the dark. It was the dark changing me.

Finally, I fumbled my way to the front door. I pulled it open. and there was nothing, just a solid black, nothing. The apartment was getting darker. Even the windows were turning black. The kitchen sink was running, pushing forth dark, non-descript globs, all of which had this peculiar chemical smell, like ammonia? Marmalade was freaking out.

She clung to me, digging her claws into my shirt, hissing at something. something in the dark. Whenever I turned around, the room would look different, swallowed further and further by the night. I could see vague silhouettes, hands reaching forward, some small, some impossibly large. I can imagine creatures the size of skyscrapers tearing forward, impish little beasts nipping at my heels. I curled into a ball on the floor, clutching marmalade close to my chest. Together, we stared down anything and everything creeping closer. But I was losing.

My light was dying. It was all going dark. Then, I felt a rumble. I'd forgotten my phone was still in my pants. Bringing it out, I had a new message from Dirdre. The little screen lighting up a little bubble around me. I wasn't even on the floor anymore. I was sitting on a pile of dry grass and blue petals,

and I could see the edge of a dead field stretching out around me in all directions. A wind cut through me like cold glass. And there really were things moving out there, some big, some small, all vague and horrifying, waiting for me to look away long enough to take shape. Hey, hon, I heard you were feeling under. under the weather, so I just wanted to check in, get plenty of rest, we'll talk soon. It played again and again. I filled my head with a voice, and my eyes with that little light the phone

struggled to provide. I could feel marmalade's pulse beating against my neck. Something would brush against me, a light kick against my foot, footsteps rushing past. I saw nothing, but they were there, hidden in the dark. We'll talk soon, Deidre's message repeated for the tenth time. I don't know how long I sat there, just waiting for the dark to pass. But nothing came of it. The battery was dying, as it reached the final few percentages of power. It was little left for me to do.

The light was shrinking. I couldn't hear Deidre's message. message anymore. Marmalade was yelling like crazy, hissing and striking at something unseen. As the screen died, I felt the chill of the world descend on me. In the silence, I could feel something approaching, something careful and calculated. I couldn't see it, but I could feel it, smiling at me, leering, eager. I was panicking. My skin felt like ice, and I couldn't feel my fingers. I held marmalade close to me, and in a last ditch effort, I flung my phone into the dark.

Glass shattered. I'd thrown it through the window next to the little French balcony. A beam of morning light broke through. I turned around to an empty apartment, the layout exactly as I'd remembered it. The kitchenette still running, torn down wallpaper lining the edges of the room, Marmalade's favourite bed still by the window, and the many Chinese takeout boxes still left unattended, just as it should be.

Except, every inch of the room was covered in dry, blue flower petals. Needless to say, I didn't stick around for long. I moved out to the branch office where Deirdre worked and ended up staying there. We're still best friends to this day. I haven't been able to talk to a lot of people about what happened that night. I get the sense that whatever lived in that dark space was just waiting for someone to tear down that barrier. That hedge of flowers and patterns. Something waiting to pull me into a dark place.

never to return. Poor Marmalade hasn't been the same since. Her fur has turned a matted orange and she's a lot clingier than before. She's okay though. She's a happy cat. But it'd be a lie to say she hasn't changed. The same can be said about me.

It isn't a single obvious thing, but I feel like there are things about me that aren't the same. My eyes look darker, my fingers longer, my teeth sharper and whiter. Just enough for me to notice and remember in my new place. I sleep with the lights on. I try not to look too closely at the wallpaper, just in case.