CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "I've noticed a silhouette of a person in my drawings. It's getting closer" Creepypasta

Episode Date: May 30, 2021

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by aaron__47: 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►Fiona Merrilees: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/A9...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-

Come on, Mackay, what's stopping you? Brad spoke to me over the phone. You're single, your career's kicking off, you've got a good reputation around the block. I mean, if you ask me, I think you're more than capable of leading not only the storyboards, but concept designs too. I know I can do it, I replied, fiddling with my keys to try and open my apartment door, while at the same time trying to talk to Brad. Just give me some time to think about it at least. Is that okay?

I finally got the key in the lock and let me. myself in. Yeah, man, of course, Brad said. I'll let you sleep on it, and I'll wait for you to tell me tomorrow that you're up to the challenge. I chuckled at his confidence. Mm-hmm, I responded. Well, thank you again, as always. I'll give you a firm answer tomorrow. All right, brother, you take care. You too. Good night. I hung up the phone, threw my stuff onto my bed, followed then by me, and stared at the ceiling. I'd just been given the opportunity by the studio to serve as a leading consultant for storyboard and concept art

on the new cartoon the network was producing. Did it finally pay off? All those years of interning, studying, drawing, and scribbling during class as a kid, and not even paying attention? Guess so. In truth, I was being a little overly humble and modest over the phone to Brad,

the art director for the project. Of course I could do it. I knew that without a doubt. But I also did in favour making such fast decisions. I wasn't going to be able to sleep easily the whole night. My mind would be racing. I stepped into my art studio, surrounded by the many colourful designs plastered on the walls.

There were creations over the years from when I was young. Some recent, some I'd made on road trips when I was bored, some during study hall in school and countless more I don't remember exactly when I made them sitting on my drawing board was an unfinished project I had started last night but didn't get around

to completing and probably weren't anytime soon it only possessed a head and shoulders not even hair or eyes I don't really know what it was supposed to be a character, an object, an animal who knows that's how my imagination work

I just sort of drew whatever comes to mind and go with it. One of the pieces hung on my wall was my first drawing. Well, first complete drawing I should add. At least that's what my mom said it was. And looking back on it, she always knew I would have a natural talent for art. I was four, I believe, and she said it was the best drawing she'd seen from any four-year-old. Any mother would think that other child, I'm sure. But my friends and other relatives said the same.

It was a drawing of what I could only describe as perhaps a hybrid between a cute little bunny and a tiger cub It had the features of a bunny But the fur pattern of orange and black stripes I liked to think that was due to me watching Winnie the Pooh around that time And having a special liking to Tigger It was the only explanation I could think of But as I was viewing it

I spotted a rather minuscule But distractingly odd detail I just noticed Near the bottom right corner of the paper was a small black speck. Why was that odd? On a piece of paper over 20 years old in which wear and tear were bound to occur? Well, you'd be amazed at how well kept this drawing was after such time had passed. The paper was never that dirty or dusty. Yet, for some reason, I was just now noticing this one little detail left behind.

A little spot. It was too perfect. to intentional. Oh sure, I just put it there myself when I first drew it as a child. That was the probable explanation. Kids do weird things sometimes. Maybe I just felt the need to put a little speck with my pencil or pen and left it there when no one but myself would notice.

Then again, nothing else on the paper reflected that whatsoever and the entire drawing was in crayon. What might have caused that? Was it believable that I had a random pencil or pen just lying around at the time? It's plausible. But why would I have done that? I kept trying to contemplate in my head what my four-year-old self might have been thinking. But how the hell would I know? I was a pretty weird kid, and it was such a distant memory. Maybe that was my way of signing my art when I was that age, you know? Signed here, Mackay Phillips in a black dot. That's how you knew it was me.

What the hell was I doing? had sleep to catch up on. Brad had convinced me, and by the next two days, I was sketching new ideas and designing new storyboards for the show. I was coming up with character designs, building layouts, suggesting what sort of colors and contrasts to use that might better capture the essence and tone of the series, a mainly action and adventure genre with some lighthearted comedy trickled throughout. I felt at times that I was overstepping my bounds at some points, but Brad suggested

that was nothing to be worried about. More ideas were better than little in his eyes. I'd finished the first draft for the lead character of the show, a minimalistic cartoon style reminiscent of Bruce Tim's illustrations. I brought my idea over to Brad for his consent, and to my pleasure, he loved it. He said he'd pitched up to the producer as well for final review to make sure that they too were pleased.

Everything had to please them at the end of the day. Not most audiences understood about the business. You might make great art, but it means diddly squat if the men at the top don't see the profit out of it. I was just wrapping up for the day and was getting ready to leave the studio when Brad came by to talk to me. Hey, Kai, Brad called to me. That was my nickname, Kai.

Hey, I said back. So, bad news and some good news. Oh, want me to give you the good news first? I prefer bad news first. Cool. Well, the bad news is that Larry thinks we should change the design to something more... Eh, how do I put it? Minimal.

I arched my brow. Larry was the main producer of the show. Technically, he had final say over the creative decisions, including Brad or me. It's already minimalist, I argued. That's literally the form. I know, and trust me, man, it looks great. Great, Brad insisted. If you were up to me, I'd definitely keep it.

But, unfortunately, the guys at the train aren't 100% satisfied. I'd say more like 85%. They could kiss my ass, I wanted to say. But instead, I said, All right, I'll start thinking of some new drafts, and I'll show you them in the morning. Nah, don't lose any sleep over it. We'll work on it throughout the week and next week.

Sound good? I nodded. Good. Hey man. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news. It's nothing personal. It's not an attack on you as an artist. It's just they want something, just a little more to par with what their vision is for the show.

I gave the fakest reply probably in my entire life. I completely understand, I said with a smile. It's nothing. Oh, and yeah, what was the good news? Brad looked thrown off for a bit, but then regained his thought. Oh, the good news, he said. Well, you get to try again. He gave a cheeky sort of smile,

but for the first time since knowing him, I had a tempting urge, similar to a bad itch, that I could knock those perfect white teeth out of his face. That night I got home and did the opposite of what Brad said, and stayed up working on different sketches and ideas for new designs for the character. What was wrong with mine? I thought it was a timeless animation design

and easy on the eyes. Not only that, but from a creative perspective, it worked for the show. I knew exactly what they wanted too. Some boggled down simplistic Calharts design carbon copy that had been done many times before.

I figured it was time to try something unique and fresh once again, while simultaneously being a callback to the old animation myself and other generations before me grew up on. Appreciation for effort seems to be dead these days. It was an hour past midnight, and I didn't leave my drawing board for hours.

I didn't get up to use the bathroom, get a glass of water or anything. But, whilst drowning myself in my work, I did peek over again, and my first drawing posted on the wall to my left. And I noticed something that made me squint to make sure my eyes weren't deceiving me.

I got up to go over and check for a closer look, and my eyes saw just fine. The dot I'd seen in the bottom right corner of the paper was in a different position this time. It had moved upwards and more towards the left side of the page. Again, I was tired, this time from my own will. But I couldn't have been that exhausted to see that I was completely right. And another thing I observed,

but perhaps was also tripping over due to my lack of sleep. The spot was slightly bigger this time, and more akin to a filled circle. First, it was almost as if someone planted a single dab with a pen, whereas here it was more of a jot and two little rotations with a ball. The next afternoon during lunch, I showed Brad what I'd come up with for the new character designs. I showed him four different alternatives for what we might use,

I watched his face change from wide-eyed, amused, confused, and bemused in one sitting. I think this one will do, he said, pointing to the first one. It was the most simplistic of all the drawings, and, in my opinion, my most uninspired piece. Of course he picked that one. What about this one? I pointed out another. This one has more emphasis on his facial expressions, gives him a bit more emotion, you know. Yeah, but we can't. have the characters stand out too far from each other, Brad said. The differences in

colour will be what distinguishes them in this case. But the character designs were so much more than just colour. Expressions of the face thought a thousand words about who the personal thing was that you were drawing. Nevertheless, I agreed with him, though not in my best interest. Grazing later that night at the other drafts I'd wipped up sitting on my drawing board in my room. I sighed with pity at the wasted time and threw them in the trash can. Whilst doing so, I glanced over and my old drawing again to see where the mystery dot might have ended up this time. I'd almost forgotten about it earlier in the day,

possibly due to how ridiculous of an assumption it was to assume a dot could magically change places across a piece of paper. I discovered that he was in the same position I last found it. However, something. was unusual again. Getting a closer look, I found that it seemed not only bigger, but I could almost swear

it was beginning to appear more than just a measly spot and an entirely different shape instead. But it was too small to see with my naked eye. I took a magnifying glass from my desk and placed it at a good distance between my eye and the paper.

I squinted to my right to get a good look at what I was seeing. It didn't make sense. It was a shape, a shape of some sort of figure, a person I could have sworn. It was a black silhouette of a humanoid shape, and it looked to be an amazing detail for it to be so shimpy. I just knew that if I could somehow put a microscope over it, I could get a completely detailed and intricate picture. It was so strange. It hadn't been a dot after all.

It was a vivid picture But how? I couldn't have drawn that as a kid Not at that age Even for an adult or any skilled artist It was practically impossible It was unimaginably impressive To draw something of that detail

In that size I tried to see what sort of expression or stance the figure was doing Though with close inspection It didn't seem to be doing much at all It sort of just stood there And it was just the shadow where I couldn't see any sort of emotion on his face whatsoever.

However, the more I stared at it, the more I noticed, it began to unsettle me. It was so out there, so far-fetched for it to even exist right there on the paper. And the question still bugged me. How did it even get there? In the first place, the next day I was off, I decided to call my mom. I knew she'd probably have a picture of it somewhere on her photo albums. How's the new job going? She asked me over the phone, excitedly.

It's going, I told her. How's the blood pressure? Oh, I'm keeping it at good levels right now. Doctor says to eat less red meat, so I've been working on that. You must be struggling. Eh, it's not as bad as I thought it would. There's days I still want a burger here and there, but there are plenty of other things to cook

that don't have all that junk in it. Yeah, but then there's using too much butter and seasoning knowing you. Exactly. I then changed the subject. Hey, do you remember my first drawing? I shot the question. Uh, well, I remember a lot of your drawings, she replied. Your first drawing?

Yeah, the one I took with me. It used to be in the fridge all the time. Oh yeah, the crayon-colored one. Mm-hmm. Yeah, I remember that one. What about it? I know this is random, but I was wondering if you had a picture of it somewhere in one of the photo albums or somewhere. There's this small little detail drawing the picture that I swore wasn't there the first time I drew it. I just want to be sure. I had a curiosity, you know?

Hmm, I may have it somewhere. Hold on. She and I talked a bit more while she looked around through the photo books for the old drawing. She knew she'd taken a picture of it somewhere. That's what she told herself at least. She usually did with these kinds of things just in case they ever got lost. My mother was also from a generation where photos weren't exactly scarce,

but also held more value which captured special memories and moments to last a lifetime, compared to nowadays where it's easier than ever to take a photo, giving less need and maybe want for a photo album. It was a good trip down memory lane for her, as she would make warm-hearted comments

and exclamations of joy as she told me all the old photos she'd turn the page over and find, whether they'd be baby pictures of me and my siblings or old family vacation trips when dad was still around. Eventually, she struck gold. Well, what do you know? she said. I found it. Wow, I replied.

I'm actually surprised it was that easy. That's why I keep telling you to start getting a photo album so you can have these memories kept forever. And you can keep on for all your drawings too. I do have one for all my drawings. I'm not just talking about a portfolio, but like an actual photo book, so you can show your kids and my grandkids one day. If I have kids,

give me some hope, once you, I'll send you the picture. Thanks, Ma. You're welcome, baby. When she did send it, I paid close attention to the detail in the photo she'd sent compared to the one on the wall. Everything was practically the same, except for one thing. The silhouette wasn't drawn on the photo my mom sent. It was only on the actual copy.

So, I was right. I didn't actually draw that. I knew I couldn't have. Then who? I decided to set up a camera one night to check and make sure no one was breaking in. It was a cheap studio apartment, and I didn't have the money and consent with my landlord just yet to install ADT or some alternative.

Crazy enough, The thought of someone breaking into my apartment, just to add an elaborate illustration, was hilarious by itself, but still, no less creepy. What would be the reason? Just a harmless prank from one of the guys at the studio? I couldn't think of who. And I couldn't imagine going through the trouble of trying to pull something like that off, let alone risking a criminal off for trespassing. Even still, the impossible and precise detail of the figure didn't seem realistic from the measly creep in the night. The next day I looked at the drawing to find that the silhouette appeared slightly bigger than last time.

Now it was starting to get quite unsettling. I had to review the footage, but what I saw led me nowhere. No one broke in, nothing changed on the paper and the camera. Everything remained unchanged. For whatever reason, what was seen through the lens didn't reflect what I was seeing in reality. A couple of months had passed, and by the end of pre-production, I'd finalised most of the concepts and storyboards, and the characters were, for the most part, set on their final designs,

or rather as final as final can get. The voice actors would need to record their lines, and the eventual plot would still need to be screened, of course, for review, so we could get a consensus on what does and doesn't work with the show. But for now, all else was nearly wrapped up. I hadn't noticed the change in the silhouette Since that night I checked the footage I just accepted that it would be a permanent mark

At my first drawing ever While it bothered me a little At least my mother had the original copy saved in our family photos I had gotten home again And walked into my studio room And nearly jumped at the sight on the wall The silhouette was no longer miniature But now grown in size

Taking up nearly a quarter of the page The texture of the grain or ink drawn into the page bore her stark presence, almost as though it would burn into the paper. It contrasted with the bright, vibrant crayon colours beside it in a very morbid fashion with a nightly black hue. I stepped over to the paper nervously, afraid of some unknown, threatening aura that could now be felt within the room. Getting a closer look, the silhouette was filled with the most absolute darkest shades I've ever seen, like staring into a black hole. But one of the striking detail was now apparent that gives me chills to this day.

I could discern that the figure held an actual expression on its face this time. A calm, sinister smirk. I grabbed the paper off the wall and put it away in one of the bottom drawers in the studio. The last thing I wanted to do was see that thing every day I walked past it. That night I slept well up until,

around 2 or 3 a.m. When suddenly, I thought I heard a noise from within the studio. It sounded like a tapping or light banging against the walls or drawers. I got up from my room and crept into the kitchen first to grab a knife, then sneaked over to the room.

The door was already open. I'd have to flip the switch to see who was inside, if anyone. Damn, I hoped there wasn't anyone. I cautiously turn on the light to the room. the illumination straining my eyes and then quickly scan the area

nobody a sigh of relief came over me and then I suddenly felt silly for getting worked up over nothing I then looked down at the drawer that I discarded the drawing in glaring at it for a moment why not I thought

I put the knife down on the dresser and kneeled to open the drawer grabbing the handle the sight of it from last time was so eerie yet luring but I had already considered throwing it away ever since it became a noticeable presence so I figured I might as well do that

since it was giving me all this trouble my hand pulled on the dresser handle and it opened to reveal that malicious smirk now covering the entire page the size of an actual head staring directly into my soul I jumped back onto the floor and froze for a bit

the eyes and the face and my old drawing It was gone. I couldn't even see it anymore. It had been replaced with whatever this thing was. After getting myself together, I immediately burned it with a grill outside on my balcony, burned it a bit, and discarded them over the grass.

I watched it disappear into the night, still shaking from that god-awful sight. I might as well have killed an odd friend, a piece of my memories. I thought to myself, at least I had the original though, if not the physical copy. But when I looked back at the message my mom had sent me of the picture. It was gone.

It appeared as though the file had been corrupted or something, and I was unable to view it. I had saved it in my gallery and my phone as well, right after she sent it. But still, it was nowhere in sight, like it never existed. I tried asking my mom the next day if she could try to send it again, but to her surprise the photo was ruined. Somehow the image was blurred and awfully distorted to where it was unintelligible.

She didn't spill anything on it and nothing could have possibly tainted the photo from where she placed the album she told me as none of the other pictures were it all affected. There was really no way to explain it. It just sort of died. That was the only copy she had the last thiffing proof of it even existing.

Later that day I hung out and had a couple of drinks with some friends and colleagues from the studio and pretty much went through a mild five stages of grief within one evening. I felt like a piece of me was now gone from losing the picture, but I knew there were countless more creations to be made and hundreds that I did create. That was the beauty of art I told myself in a drunken slurred speech to my buddies, that art preserves and is forever in all aspects. or something sentimental like that. I don't really remember.

I was plastered. One of our DDs took me home that night and made sure I got inside my place safely. Still inebriated, I stumbled into my room to undress. But first, decided to make a trip to the studio. I turned on the light and looked around at the various other projects I'd made over the years, soaking in my vanity, glory and pride.

How about that, huh? I said aloud to no one. Huh, how's that? And there's more where that came from. It was my big F you to the silhouette and the loss of my first accomplishment. I didn't know who was trying to prove myself to, or what, but that didn't matter.

I was so out of it, I couldn't even see the hangover that was about to hit me in the morning anyway. As I was turning to leave the room, I took a glimpse at one of the other drawings that put me in first place for an arc contest back and fourth grade. It was a spin on Salvador Dali's persistence of memory. You know, the one with the melting clocks. It was my favorite painting, and I decided to do one of my own,

but with a warped depiction of my bedroom at the time. In it, my bed was melting into the floor. The trophies and toys are my dresser, liquefying bit by bit. The window paint seemed to turn flimsy. Some of the walls were even oozing. I even drew it to where you could see a bit in my bathroom door open and some of the inside like a mirror, sink, toilet, shower. Some of those objects were also starting to melt and inside the bathroom you

could even see the shape of someone hiding. A shadow. I sobered up real quick again a sphere replaced every the sensation in my body. I know for a goddamn fact that I didn't draw that there. With the help of my magnifying glass

I aimed over the bathroom door cracked open in the drawing and watched the Lerette stared directly back at me through the mirror, with that same malevolent expression, that devilish smirk. About a year has passed, and as we were wrapping up production on the cartoon, I was offered a position as an art director for another upcoming animated series. It seemed like a dream come true in otherwise more favourable circumstances. However, I wasn't drawing like I used to.

I sketched here and there, but I didn't have time anymore. I'd been managing and overseeing other artists to work, micromanaging and dictating what passes as art or not, taking note of that passion, that fire in their young, hungry eyes. It was like ripping a plant from its roots. By the end, there had been only one picture left in my studio that wasn't tainted by the shadow, a self-portrait of me in an animated style.

I stared at it with cold, desolate visage. I didn't even recognise it anymore. I remember a time where I might have been proud of making something this grand But now I don't know what to feel It didn't mean anything to me anymore And in the far distance of the background of the canvas There I could glimpse the figure waiting With the magnifying glass zoomed in on it

It stood there with his arms crossed Head tilted down with that dubious grin Staring at me It knows It knew good and well what it was, a malevolent force with intentions unbeknownst to me. It was no use in waiting for the shadow to take its full form and completely devour the drawing with no remorse

as it did with the others. It'd all been lost, with no way of ever recovering them. No recollections of pictures, files, videos, nothing. All disappeared from the face of the universe. And with that, I decided to do the under myself. and burned the last one standing. I went back to my studio room, staring at the empty walls around me.

They'd once been plastered with creations of grandeur, zest, creativity, and most importantly, individuality. I was 28 years old and didn't even recognise who I was anymore. I no longer perceive it with my own eyes, but I just felt its presence. I knew somewhere, loominged over me from a dimension, invisible to myself, that it was still watching me, glaring at me with that same, mischievous, hungry smirk.