CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "Journal Entries From a Plane Crash Survivor Lost at Sea" Creepypasta

Episode Date: August 23, 2022

CREEPYPASTA STORY►BY NewAgeSolution: 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►Xelandra: https://www.deviantart.com/xelandra/a...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-

My brother works for the Coast Guard. A few months ago, I was helping him move and came across a yellow bottle stuffed with all worn-out papers. After sorting through them, I realized there were journal entries. Many of them were unreadable, partially torn, or covered in dark stains and smears. But the ones I could decipher told an extraordinary story. My brother said he found the bottle about,

a year ago while out on patrol. It was in an empty, partially deflated raft. I don't know what to make of these entries or what happened to the people mentioned, but feel like their story should be shared. I translated them to the best of my ability. July 19th. We're probably the only ones left. The plane at 20 rows, they respectively sat two on one side, and three on the other, so a hundred in total. It was a full flight. The plane had two pilots and three flight attendants, so that brings the number up to 105. 105 unsuspecting souls. We were flying over the Atlantic during a fierce storm when it happened. I don't know what caused it, but the plane started shaking violently

before going into a free fall. The pilots managed to regain control of the craft, only less than half of everyone on board got onto the rafts before a large wave sank the plane. Whoever wasn't on those rafts didn't stand a chance. I don't know how we got through that night. I was lucky enough to be one of the first that got onto the rafts. There are at least a dozen others in mine before the plane sank. But after hours of getting tossed and turned by that violent storm, only five of us remained.

We must be miles away from land because we can't. I can't see any insight. I don't know how my journal managed to survive that whole or deal without getting lost or damaged. Perhaps I'm meant to record everything that happens while we're adrift, waiting to be rescued. I guess everyone's still trying to process these last 12 hours. Nobody said a word. July 20th. We found two more floating in the ocean, clinging onto a seat cushion.

Our group total is now seven. It seems that rescuing these two kick-started us to start proactively assessing our situation. We don't have much in terms of supplies. Four water bottles, some toiletries, one first-day kit, two seat cushions and a plastic briefcase container. We all have scrapes, bumps, bruises and sunburns, but one woman named Norma is in especially bad shape. She has a nasty head wound, a fractured left tibia, the fractured end.

end of a bone was protruding from her skin and had to be pushed back in by Kim, one of the survivors on this raft who's an EMT. Norm's injuries look infected. She's been going in and out of consciousness all day. Kim is concerned. The other two are named Jordan and Elliot. Not too sure what either of them do for a living. Incidentally, Elliot actually sat next to me on the plane. The two we just saved are Oliver and Isabel. They're both grad students who recently got engaged. Oliver said they got out of the plane right before it sank. Everything afterwards was a blur.

Oliver doesn't know how they survived the storm or didn't get separated. It's quite remarkable. We're being carried by a wind coming from the northwest. I don't know if it's good or bad, if it's pushing us closer or further from land. The rest of this entry is illegible July 21st

I awoke first this morning To my dismay there was no land in sight An eerie mist hung in the air limiting how far I could see But the sun was beginning to rise There was no breeze, the raft wasn't moving I couldn't hear a sound and was smothered by an unshakable sense of being watched

The morning haze eventually burned off, and although I could see much further, there was still no signs of land. As I sighed and glanced longly at the featureless horizon, I spotted a peculiar shape protruding from the water in my peripherals. It was about ten to fifteen yards from the raft. At first, all I could make out was a dark greyest green shape. It looked inanimate, was egg-shaped. and about the size of a soccer ball. I thought it was a piece of plain debris. Then...

It blinked. That's when I spotted two pale yellow eyes. They emitted a piercing stare through a thick veil of what looked like scraggly, matted, dark grey hair. I thought it was the remains of a crash victim. But remains don't blink, I remember thinking. Those glistening yellow eyes. blinked a second time before the figure quickly disappeared below the surface. It happened in the

span of one to two seconds. I don't know what I saw this morning, but it was definitely real because the water rippled around the spot where it submerged. I waited and waited, but the figure never resurfaced. We're hungry, so hungry. Jordan crafted a makeshift fishing line with some thread and a needle from the first aid kit. I later learned that he used a piece of flesh from the infected area around Norma's head wound as bait. Jordan's been at it for hours, but hasn't had any luck.

That feeling of being watched hasn't ceased. I think the others sense it too. I could tell by their body language. July 23rd. Norma's dead. We don't know when she took her last. breath. She could have been gone longer than we realized. Most disturbingly, Norma died open-eyed. Her skin has a sickly blotchy tint that's greenish-grey in colour. It reminds me of that figure I

spotted the other day. Nonetheless, we're relieved Norma's out of pain. There was nothing we could do for her, and she'd been suffering. She took up a lot of Kim's time, who hasn't said much since declaring her dead. We have a body curled up in a corner, covered in a blanket. We're contemplating whether we should throw her overboard or hold on to it. In case we get rescued. July 25th. We saw a ship today, but it was too far away and didn't notice our raft.

It was a dark and gloomy day anyway, with sporadic rain, so there was no way we would have been spotted. Fortunately, we're drifting in the same direction as that ship, so hopefully we're on some sort of travel route. Jordan still hasn't caught a fish, but he's determined he's spent all day and night jigging, sometimes staring at the spot he's doing it in for hours. He stopped using bait and crafted a makeshift lure,

but it hasn't gotten him any bite. July 26th. We've been adrift for a drift for a little bit. a week. Jordan still hasn't caught any fish and there continued to be no signs of land, just a featureless dark blue ocean horizon. It's been so long since we last ate. We were so hungry and, I can't stress this enough, that's the only reason we did what I'm about to recount. We decided to throw enormous body overboard. But not entirely. Kim and Ellie it, they cut off pieces of her, mostly strips of flesh from her calves and arms.

They got Norma's body off the raft before making their cuts. I couldn't see, but heard them conduct the gruesome procedure. I tried preoccupying myself by tending to Isabelle, who became hysterical upon realizing what they were doing. Oliver and I tried to explain to Isabel that we had no other choice, but she was inconsolable. They soaked the flesh strips in sea water to clean them, and remarkably barely got any blood in the raft. Jordan refused to partake, saying he'll eat what he catches, and that he only used her as bait. We tenderized the meat and cut some into bite-sized cubes.

We had nothing to make a fire, and ate it raw. I won't describe how it tasted, I just won't. Everyone but Jordan and Isabel ate the meat Isabel had a face buried while curled up in a corner screaming and sobbing as we ate Jordan paid no mind and spent the whole time trying to catch a fish July 27th

The first two paragraphs are illegible Seems like she kept writing and crossing out the same sentence I just don't understand Nobody understands Norma, she's back. Her body, Norma's body. It reappeared back on the raft. Yesterday, we watched the body float away from the raft and disappear into the horizon.

That awful sight was the first thing my eyes saw when I woke up this morning. My screams work everyone else up, and I almost fell off the raft scrambling away from Norma's corpse. Norma was clothed when Kim and Elliot threw her overboard. Now, her bloated body was completely nude. Her skin was covered in ghostly pale and bruised-colored blotches. Her stiff limbs were bent backwards or twisted in some disturbingly unnatural position. The missing strips of her skin and flesh that Kim and Elliot cut off were glaringly apparent. She looked extremely decomposed, like she'd been dead for weeks and not days.

That wasn't even the worst part. It was a face, a horrible, wretched face. Norma's cloudy bloodshot eyes were wide open and practically bulged out of their sockets. Her mouth hung agape, appearing to be permanently frozen mid-scream. Norma's face didn't look like that when she died. Her eyes were closed and although a jaw was still parted, it nowhere near resembled its current appearance. There was something else about her head.

I forgot to mention. It was twisted completely around. 180 degrees. We were all huddled on one side of the raft. Everyone's afraid to go near her. So, we're just sitting here, getting pierced by a twisted, manic stare. Everyone, except Jordan, who's been trying to catch a fish all this time. July 29th.

Isabel Shrews screams woke me up this morning. I first realized that a thin coat in the blood covered the entire bottom of our raft. We all must have slept in for who knows how long. Kim and Oliver tried restraining Isabel, who was absolutely hysterical, completely far gone. Elliot and I looked on in sheer horror at the unsettling sight that set off Isabel. Norm's body, arms were tightly weaved into the raft's elastic cables as if to hold it in place. She was missing her lower right leg and had a large vertical gash running down her backside. Blood still seeped from the massive opening. I quickly realized her spine was missing. That's when

I spotted Jordan. He sat on the raft's edge, grasping Norma's blooded spine in his hands. My stomach knotted upon realizing that Jordan fashioned Norma's spine into a makeshift fishing pole. His hands, face and clothes were smeared with red, as he stared intently or slowly jigging his fishing line. Jordan noticed Elliot and I were watching and slowly turned with a blank, emotionless expression pasted across his crusty sunburnt face. It bends. That's all he said before abruptly returning his focus back to the water.

He had Norm's missing lower right leg. across his lap. Isabel wouldn't stop screaming and thrashing. Kim and Oliver couldn't take it anymore and wound up beating her into unconsciousness. I don't condone what they did, but damn it, someone had to shut her up before she made things worse.

Kim slice his finger open during the altercation. It's been hours and he's just holding it over the raft's edge. He's sitting alongside Jordan, just watching his blood slowly drip into the water. August 1st. Norm's body was finally disposed of, but it left behind a thick stench of rot and decay that you could practically taste.

Isabel went into hysterics again, but was quickly silenced by Oliver and Kim. Oliver even started choking at this time. He had to be restrained by Elliot. Kim's wounded finger is infected. It looks really bad, but he doesn't seem to care. We finished our last pieces of meat from Norm's body. We're out of first aid supplies and still have some water.

Jordan kept Norma's lower right leg. He's cut enough pieces to use as bait. August 2nd. Kim cut off his infected finger. In one single motion and didn't bat an eye. Kim did it so nonchalantly and clearly didn't. care who watched. Of course, it was Isabel's screams that drew all her attention. Isabel. It's weird to think that Isabel shrieks bothered me more than Kim's act of self-d dismemberment.

That quickly changed after what Kim did next with his severed finger. He ate it. Pealed the skin and flesh right off its bone with his knife and dropped the strips in his mouth. His hand bled profusely, but Kim paid it no mind. He twirled a narrow strip of flesh in between his lips. Kim stared at us maniacly as he loudly sloped it, like he was relishing our horrified reactions. The rest of this entry is illegible. August 4th.

The raft is starting to deflate. Elliot and Oliver are trying to mend the leak, but I don't think it's working. Although he cut his finger off, Kim's hand still got infected. He's visibly sick and hasn't said a word since yesterday. He spent most of the past 24 hours curled up on a ball on his side. Undated entry.

I don't know what's happening. I'm so hungry. August 6th. We found something floating in the ocean today. It was a glass bottle. A yellow glass bottle. It was cooked and held a single piece of paper. If we're even still alive,

Still in the same reality. This has to be a dream. A vivid, elongated dream. Maybe I'm still on the plane and it never even crashed. Maybe I never even got on that flight. The paper inside the bottle. All our names were written on it. Elliot, Jordan, Kim, Oliver, Isabel and Rachel, myself.

Next to each of our names was a four-letter word. Elliot, Heat, Jordan, Hare, Kim, Pill, Oliver, Fire, Isabel, Room, Rachel, dirt. Everyone grew eerily silent after reading that paper. Elliot crumbled and threw it across the raft. Nobody looked each other in the eye. Isabel became hysterical. She kept asking how they knew before getting silenced by the others. I can't imagine what each of those words meant about the others in this raft. I can't fathom what it says about who these people really are as human beings. Maybe we're all stuck here suffering like this for a reason. Maybe it's justified. For me though, I know exactly what it

means. This is the first time I'm tangibly acknowledging that night. I'm probably going to die in this raft anyway, so what's the point of holding it in any longer? I always told myself it was an accident, but deep down I knew. I still see him every day when I leave for work and come home. Well, not literally, but we're always close. Let's just say he watches over my garden. August 8th. I saw it again last night. It was still dark, but I could. clearly made out its shape in the moonlight. That same figure I saw about 14 days earlier. Even in the darkness, I could see his gleaming, pale, yellow eyes,

giving off that same discomforting aura. We exchanged stares for two or three seconds before it submerged. Dwelling on this is a lot better than watching what's happening in the raft. Kim, his smiling, cutting off and eating pieces of his own flesh, August 12th. The blood finally reached my side of the raft, and wallowing in it while writing these words. We were all so hungry, so hungry and weak, desperate for any means of nourishment. Jordan's fishing rod snapped in half.

Incidentally, I think it happened while he was hooked on a fish. A look of unfettered rage spread across his face. I thought he was about to go on a violent rampage. I was certain it was over at that point. That's not necessarily what happened, but I was close. Instead, Jordan retreated into a corner, still clutching the severed spine. Jordan then looked at Kim, who was cutting off and eating pieces of his left forearm. He got down to the bone, even managed to cut around his veins.

You don't have to do it yourself, Jordan said in a low, scratchy voice. Kim's eyes had a glazed, primal look in them as he stared at Jordan. Kim looked terrifying, almost monstrous in appearance. Any patches of skin he hadn't gotten to yet were covered in sunburns, blisters and giant sores. We all had scabs, burns and blisters. But Kim, he didn't look human. Jordan and Kim mumbled back and forth to each other, their tones periodically spiking in excitement or anger.

They started looking at Elliot. The same frenzied expression overtook both their faces. They kept exchanging incoherent murmurs, which was when I picked up a few words that Kim grumbled. I'm so hungry. Elliot didn't stand a chance. He was fast asleep when Kim and Jordan pounced on him, sinking their teeth into Elliot's neck and shoulder.

Elliot woke up instantly and started making these awful, blood-curdling, high-pid shrieks of helplessness, sheer agony and incomprehensible fear. Elliot struggled, but looked sapped of any strength to put up a fight. Jordan and Kim tore off pieces of Elliot's flesh, spitting some out or savagely chewing and swallowing other mouthfuls. All you could hear were Elliot's horrified, agonized screams, mixed with the sounds of ripping and crunching.

I couldn't pull my eyes away from Kim, whose face was buried deep into Elliot's neck. Jordan furiously stabbed and sliced into Elliot's skin with a broken end of normal spine. He was literally ripping off pieces of Elliot by hand and stuffing them into his mouth. It felt like an eternity, but Elliot's screams eventually ceased. I'm not exactly sure when he had actually died.

After the scream stopped, Elliot's body violently twisted and convulsed for a few minutes, or Jordan and Kim continued devouring different parts of his body. Oliver had his face buried in his hands as this happened and whimpered quietly. Isabel laughed. August 14th. Elliot tasted better than normal, August 15th.

Oliver and Isabel vanished. I woke up this morning and they were gone, nowhere on the raft. They either fell overboard or went in on their own. I can't come up with another explanation. I suppose you can't blame them. Maybe going back in the water was better than staying on. this raft. Blood coats every surface, forming a thin, sickly, congealed layer that we're all

sitting in and aren't even phased. I can't even smell the decay. I'm probably used to it. At least that's what I keep saying. Jordan and Kim lash out whenever I try removing any of the blood, almost like they prefer it maring their skin and clothing. They decorated the raft and themselves with Elliot's bones, entrails and skin. August 19th. My pen ran out of ink, so I've been dipping the tip of my utensils in Elliot's blood to write. The raft started deflating again, and I honestly hope that every ounce of air escapes. Kim and Jordan are huddled together, jealously guarding Elliot's remains.

They keep staring at me with ravenous eyes. I haven't slept in a few nights. If I let my guard down, well, look at what they did to Elliot. I can't keep this up much longer. I'm so tired, so weak, so hungry. The only strength that I can muster is being used to write these words. I think I see something on the horizon. The rest of this page was torn.

I thought getting this transcribe for documentation will give me peace of mind. As much as I don't want to believe Rachel's account, and the slightest chance that something so spectacular happened, I wanted to get word out for the right eyes to see. But since starting, I haven't been able to get these pages out of my mind. My brother, who gave me the bottle, lives by the coast, and while writing, I have had a wonderful view of the ocean. A clear horizon for miles around,

something that I thought would be a vivid backdrop to recount a heroic survivor's accounts. However, these words have given the waters a sinister edge, a tale that haunts my mind into seeing spectres. Between penning these words, I keep seeing flickers in the water, something too defined to be a simple crash of waves. Like a head poking out, glints of yellow flickering, but never long enough to be seen when I look. Normally this wouldn't bother me. Something easy to explain. lain away as a trick of the light, the yellow sun bouncing off the reflective ocean surface. If it wasn't for the little cut I got in my finger, when I first pulled out the pages.