CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "Mr. Gozo's Game" Creepypasta

Episode Date: December 4, 2021

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Aver, a energy booster to make then to come Knotchchew Macshot Liquid Fooding Supplement Forcxxxxxxxxxxxit. When I was a little girl, I had a strange friend that I believed I'd made up, until about an hour ago.

My father and mother were out of the house a lot when I was a child. It never occurred to me then that we were poor, but looking back, I realised that we must have been. Mom worked two jobs, serving in a restaurant and driving a bus for the school. Dad worked in a fishing market during the day so we could attend night school in the evenings. Both of them would come home very late and flop down for a few. few hours before they had to do it again. They were never cruel to us. They just didn't have the time for my older brother and me.

Mom and Dad got together in high school and mom's senior class photos showed the swell of her belly as she carried my brother. There were parents before they were more than children themselves and, with no real skills, they had to take whatever jobs they could get to keep food on the table. For the first ten years of my life,

there wasn't a lot of happiness. There were no Christmas mornings, There weren't a lot of birthday presents, and I like the parental involvement that a lot of my peers seem to have. This was what probably led me to create, Mr. Gozo. My brother was supposed to be watching me after school. I've talked about my brother a little bit, but I don't think I've told you much about him. He was eight years older than me, a senior in high school, who was supposed to be my caretaker while my parents were at work. This usually translated to him in his room with the door closed, or him leaving the door closed, or him leaving

the house and telling me not to answer the door or go outside. This meant that I spent a lot of time alone as a child, but I much prefer the times he left me alone. My brother was more than a neglectful babysitter. He could be pretty mean and seemed to delight in tormenting me. If he was gone, then he was just me and Mr. Gozo with a house to ourselves. Mr. Gozo was a friend that I discovered living in my house one day. He was tall, taller than my dad even, and had a strange, whispery voice that always used to make me laugh. He wore grown-up clothes, a long coat, and a pair of suit pants, with square-toe cowboy boots sticking from underneath them.

His head was round and pale. His eyes always seemed a little too big for his face, and he didn't have any ears, which I found very funny as a kid. His smile was my favourite thing about him, because it reminded me of the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. Something else about him that always reminded me of that cat was that... He would disappear whenever anyone else was around. One minute we'll be having a tea party or playing hide-and-seek,

and the next my brother would come home, and he would just vanish. I told my parents about Mr Gozo, but they only smiled and said it was good that I had such an act of imagination. My brother just said I was a little freak and to stay out of his way. Mr. Gozo did not like my brother. He is a brute and he knows nothing of imagination. he said in that buzzy, cultured sort of voice he had. Gozo and I played a lot,

but I remember his favourite game was hide and seek. He could never beat me though. I was an excellent either, and he would clump around for a while before finally saying I'd won, and I would burst out and wrap my arms around his leg. Despite never winning, he always seemed to want to play.

He seemed to like chasing me through the house, and when I think back on those days now, I see how lucky I was to never learn anything to the contrary. You see, Mr. Gozo would always make these bets before we started playing hide-and-seek. He would promise me things. If I can't find you, then I will make you whatever you want to eat. Or, if you win, you can watch whatever you want on TV, no matter what it is, or something like that. But then he would always follow it up by saying,

But if I win, you have to come back to my house. else to play. I would always agree. I was 10 and very good at hiding. When I say he never found me, I mean he never found me. I would hide under things that were too hard for him to lift or hide in places he was too tall to climb into. I would camouflage myself with blankets and pillows and I could remain absolutely still for quite some time. Mr. Gozo would try his hardest, stomping around while his two big eyes roving everywhere. Eventually, he was. would just give up and tell me I'd won. He always made good on his promises too.

I'd watched Sailor Moon or Powerbuff Girls in the middle of the night, long after Cartoon Network stopped showing cartoons, and I've eaten chocolate ice cream and pizza, and we barely had groceries in the house. Much like Mr. Gozo, though, if my brother came home early, he couldn't see the food, or the show, or the new toy Mr. Gozo had given me. I'll turn back to find an empty plate or a static-y TV, and Mr. Gozo nowhere to be found.

Mr. Gozo would play anything I wanted, but he asked to play hide and seek at least once a day. If I said I didn't want to, he never pushed the issue. He also never let losing deter him from playing. It appeared that whatever he wanted to do with me at his house could wait. He was a perfect companion for a lonely child. I never saw his more sin as the side. Until I looked back after the incident.

not until hide-and-seek when I lost my brother. It was late, probably after 11 o'clock, Mr. Gozo and I were playing hide-and-seek, as we had been for most of the day. I kept stumping him, even after hours of playing, but this looked like the time he might finally win. I was hiding beneath the couch cushions, compressing myself into a divot under the middle cushion

where the springs were sagging. I could seem searching from under a small gap in the case, cushion, Mr. Gozo was looking desperately for me. He had lost eight times in a row, and I saw that his patience was starting to deteriorate. He was pushing things aside, rustling the curtains, and pushing the pillows off the couch roughly as he searched for me. As the pillows hit the floor, I must have moved slightly, because he turned those much too expressive eyes back to the couch. They zeroed in on the cushion, and I knew that Gozo was about to win one. He wrapped his long. sinuous fingers around it, grinning as he prepared to lift it up, and I tried to stifle a laugh

as I prepared to be found. Just then, keys rattled in the door, and I saw Mr. Gozo turn his head to look. I looked too, and when I turned back, Mr. Gozo had disappeared. My brother walked into the living room then, and as I climbed out from under the couch, I could smell him before I saw him. He'd come home like this a few times, smelling to the living. sour and like the chemicals mom kept under the sink, and he sighed and disgust as he looked at the house. I hadn't expected it would be back so soon, and Mr. Gozo had been a little rough in his searching the last few times. There were pillows and blankets on the ground. The curtains were open, books were scattered around the shelf, and the magazines were on the floor. The living room was messy,

and as I climbed from the couch, he asked me what the hell I'd done. Nothing, I said timidly. Mr Gozo and I were playing hide and seek. My brother rolled his eyes. Mr. Gozo, Mr. Gozo, Mr. Gozo! He slurred the name as he said it, stumbling a little as he flopped onto the couch. I'm so sick for hearing about that stupid freak. Clean up this crap before Mom and Dad get home and yell at me for it. I started picking up, feeling him watch me as I moved around.

He was acting weird, weirder than usual, and who's making me uncomfortable as he sat staring on the couch? I cleaned up the books, the magazines and put the blankets back on the quilt rack and closed the curtains. As I went to put the pillows on the couch, I looked into his eyes and saw something I hadn't seen there before.

It wasn't love. I knew what it looked like, but it was different from anything else I'd ever seen. I didn't like it. And when he caught my wrist and pulled me towards him, I squirmed and tried to get away. Let go, I said, trying to keep the wine out of my voice. If I whined, he would only egg him on.

Don't be such a party-pooper. I could smell the punch and brew. Come sit with your big brother. I struggled, pulling against him. He was acting weird, and my brain screamed at me that I did not want him to get his hands on me. I looked around, looking for Mr. Gozo for help. And I saw him peeking from the hallway.

His expressive face told me that he wanted to help, but that he didn't know how. There seemed to be a sort of duality about him. I want to help his friend, but a knowledge that such a thing would be unwise. My brother swore at me, yanking in my arm. Just like the girl at the party, he mumbled, yanking hard and almost pulling me off my feet. Suddenly, though, I knew how to get him to stop. There was a way that Gozo could help.

I can't play with you right now. I'm playing with Mr. Gozo, and he'll get mad if we don't finish our game. I saw him sneer, but I could see something else there too. My brother pretended he wasn't a little weirded out by Mr. Gozo, but I could tell that the idea of an invisible friend kind of freaked him out. He'd seen the pictures I drew of him, and I couldn't help but notice the shudder they elicited in him sometimes. When he was wobbly like he was tonight,

he was especially nervous about Mr. Gozo, and I decided to take advantage of that to get away. His grip tightened though, and he took up. told me that, you played with him long enough. Why don't you play with me? I shook my head. Mr. Gozo will get mad. I have to finish my game. I turned back to look at the hallway and saw him shaking his head, begging me not to go on. But I pressed my look. But if you played with us and finished the game, then I'd be done and we could play, I guess. I tried to stay calm, but he made me nervous, his sweaty hands making my skin crawl.

My brother looked thoughtful for a moment and let my arm slip out of his hand. Okay, one more game with Mr. Goza, right? His smile made me want to run into the night and never come back. Right, you hide and I'll hide and Mr. Goza count. Gohide so he doesn't find you. My brother got up, wobbling a bit, and went down the hall to hide. I turned to go hide too, and that's when I heard me. Mr. Gozo's voice.

Please don't do this. You could just come with me. He can't hurt you where we are going. I turned around and saw Mr. Gozo tearing over me, his eyes looking sorrowful and his mouth held in a frown. Count 100, Mr. Gozo. If you find me first, I'll go with you. But if you find him first, he has to go with you.

We just looked at each other for a count of ten before I put his hands over his eyes. And I went off to hide. I went into the kitchen, having a perfect place in mind as I heard Gozo's count reach 15. I opened the cabinet beneath the sink and squeezed in, not sure I'd still fit. I'd found this spot once, seeing the smaller space beside it once you hide under the sink, and marked it for future use. I knew he would be too small for Mr. Gozo or my brother to squeeze into,

and they would have a hard time seeing me in the little space between the drawers and wall. I squeezed in there, pulling the drawers back, as I inverted. nudged them and pressed myself as flat as I could against the wall. Even if my brother got bored and came to find me, he'd never find me here. I breathed very shallowly and stifled my gasps as I heard Gozo's count reach 100. Then, the game began. It started out normally, Gozo seeking and me hiding. He checked beneath things, he checked under things, but the gravity of the game began to shift very quickly.

Gone was the playful task as he tried to find me. Gone was the careful way he looked. Now he was shoving things over and pushing them around, and it sounded like he was tearing the house apart. He moved into the kitchen, glasses breaking, and things on the counter being pushed into the floor. This wasn't like him. Why was he acting like this?

I shivered in my hiding place, waiting to be found, or for him to move on. I had the table flip over. The face of the microwave shatters it hit the ground, and the floor groan as the refrigerator was pulled over. Its guts spilling everywhere. Mr. Gozo called my name. He's normally happy voice cracking with sorrow and anger.

I wanted to go to him then, wanted to wrap my arms around him and comfort my friend. But I didn't dare leave my cubby. I would stay hidden all night if I needed to. A barred me now feared Gozo as much as I feared my brother. Come out. He bellowed. Come out.

It's not too late. You can still... What the hell is going on in here? I heard my brother yelling. I could almost picture him in the doorway to the kitchen. And as I eased out of the cubby and moved a shaking hand towards the door to the cabinet, I heard Gozo's heavy boots as they stepped towards him. My brother asking who he was and what the hell he was doing on her house.

He was slurring and shouting. Gozo was silent as a grave as he walked towards him. I pushed the corner of the cabinet open just a little bit, looking out the crack and seeing two long legs as they walked towards my suddenly scared brother. I wasn't looking between his ankles as he walked. He'd been so close to my hiding spot that he might have heard the silverware shivering in the drawers if I'd started shaking any harder. My name is Mr. Gozo, and I believe that you have been found. My brother screamed as Mr. Gozo blocked him from sight, and I pull myself back in the same. to the cubby and sat shuddering as he went right on, yelling in terror. I stayed there until my

parents came home an hour later and called the police. They had many questions, the police and my parents. I told them that I'd been playing with Mr. Gozo when my brother came home. He was acting weird, so I said he should play hard and seek with us, so I could hide from him. He was trying to get me to do things that made me feel weird, so I hid, and then Mr. Gozo had wrecked the house looking for me. When my brother came to see what all the noise was about, Mr. Gozo had taken him away, and I had hidden in my spot while he screamed.

The police clearly didn't understand what I was talking about with all the Mr. Gozo stuff, but they just shook my heads when he asked my parents if they had a son. No, she's always been an only child. I could have sworn we called a sitter for us since we would be home late. Didn't you hire a sitter? Dad asked Mom. Mom just shook ahead.

I thought you had. They both, however, had this dreamy look in their face, confusion mixed with embarrassment. Like when you walk into a room and forget what you came in for, it probably seemed weird to you that I kept calling my brother by his title

and not his name. It's because, as I saw my parents looking so confused, I realized I didn't know his name either. I remembered that I had a brother in that vague way that you remember when you were six you had a pet but not precisely what happened to it. I couldn't remember his name.

He was gone from all our family photos. His name was gone from any journal entry or class assignments I wrote it on and no one remembers him at all. It was as though he never existed. And even now, I can't remember what he looked like or what his voice sounded like. I only remembered that he existed

and now he was gone. I often wonder if that's what would have happened to me if Mr Gozo had caught me The police had a lot of questions after that And it was finally agreed upon That I'd been the victim of a breaking And hidden from the intruders They hadn't found me

So they had left after a while And I was extremely lucky The police agreed to check the house but found nothing My parents said they would check the valuables But never reported anything missing Mr Gozo had only taken one thing But they couldn't remember that it existed They sent me to bed

Telling me to get some sleep while they cleared up the mess And that's when I saw Mr Gozo For the last time I was lying in bed that night Listening to my parents talk about how they needed to be more careful About leaving someone here with me When I suddenly felt his eyes on me I rolled over to see his sad face

his heavy eyes full of sorrow and his two big mouth turned down in a frown. I also saw the speckles of blood and his normally clean coat and a small hesitant smile lying just below the surface as he gauge my reaction to him. Go away Mr Gozo, I said quietly.

I don't want to play with you anymore. I made him go away. I made him stop hurting you. I showed you what it was so that you could be safe. And now you won't be gone, he whispered. I rolled over, looking at him and yelling,

Go away, Gozo! Say it again then, say it thrice, and I'll never darken your door again. Go away, Mr. Gozo, I almost whispered, hearing my parents stopped talking downstairs. He evaporated like a fine mist, and I never saw him again. I'm growing up now, married with a girl of my own, and I hadn't thought about Mr. Gozo. until a few hours ago.

I was putting away laundry when I found my four-year-old hiding in a towel closet. Emily apparently got her father's hiding jeans, I suppose, because a blind man could have found her hiding under that pile of towels. She squealed as I found her, but then looked grumpy

and told me to close the door before he found her. Who? I asked, smiling as I lifted her into my arms. Mr. Gozo, Emily said. And my blood, ran cold. She took me to a room when I asked who that was and showed me pictures.

He was wearing the same long coat and straight black pants, and she even drew the square-toed boots that stick out from beneath them. She captured his face in a way that I never could as a child, his pale oval face, his almost cartoonishly large eyes, his smiling mouth and pointy teeth, and his distinct lack of ears. His head is still shaven, but she's drawn in with a large top at an eye floating in the middle.

The eye is blue. Where my brother's eyes may be blue? She's in my room with me right now, whining because she can't finish her game with Mr. Gozo. Sometimes I feel like I can see him out of the corner of my eye as I write this. He smile wide and predatory. I don't know what to do. I can see Emily talking to him in the mirror.

His two large forms sitting on the bed as he listens. to her. Every now and again though, I see those two big eyes as they glance over at me, knowing me and seeing me for who I am. I want to take my daughter and run, but I don't know how he will react to such a move. Perhaps I can offer him one last game. Perhaps I can give him what he always wanted. Perhaps I can save my daughter, as my big brother inadvertently saved me all those years ago. I have to try. Don't I?