CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "My Brother Found a Ten-Legged Spider" Creepypasta

Episode Date: June 22, 2020

And here I thought the eight-legged ones were bad...AUTHOR'S FACEBOOK► https://www.facebook.com/theparanormo...CREEPYPASTA STORY►by The_Paranormologist: 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- Lizartonne: ►https://www.artstation.com/artwork/xz...►https://www.instagram.com/lizartonne/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-

He said he found it in the wheat field in our backyard and had taken it to school for show and tell. I picked Max up from his elementary school each day, and it was always interesting to see what show and tell item he carried into my car. Today, it had been concealed. He cradled a cardboard box in his arms, flaps duct tape shut, several little holes poked into the top with a pencil to allow for airflow. There's no such thing as a ten-legged spider. Max? I said.

Yes there is, he exclaimed. I counted his legs and he had ten of them. Mrs. Bakewell didn't know what to make of it. She said spiders are only supposed to have eight legs. She's right, I said. In truth, the only ten-legged animals I could think of were crustaceans, none of which lived in the field behind our house. I'll show you, said Max,

struggling with the duct tape on the box. box. Don't open that, I said. I swear if you let that thing out in my car, mommy's going to ground you for a month. As we pulled into the drive of our quiet farmhouse, I chugged the whole thing up to Max miscounting the limbs. His second-grade counting skills weren't all too refined, and I'd heard some spiders had pettipots that look like legs but weren't. All things considered, I remained convinced that there was no such thing as ten-legged spiders. By dinner that night, I was no longer thinking about the spider in the box. I had almost forgotten it, until Max brought it up again. I found a spider with twelve legs today. I named him shiny,

Max said. My parents looked at each other from across the dinner table, confused. Clearly, this was another figment of Max's unending imagination. That's very interesting, sweetheart, said Mom, covering her stuffed mouth. But spiders only have eight legs. Haven't they taught you that in school? Not shiny, he has 12. Ronnie Hogan says it's like a four-leaf clover and it means good luck. You said it had ten earlier, I told him. Quit lying, Max. Nobody's going to believe you found a spider like that. I did, he said.

He grew two more legs since earlier, dummy. Max, don't call your brother a dummy. Dad grunted. Admit it, I said. You didn't find a spider like that. Admit it. You're wrong, bellowed Max. He hopped from his chair and bolted up the stairs.

Each step, a defiant stomp. At last, there was a muffled door slam, and then silence. nobody was eating anymore. After a while, I scooted my chair back and said, I'll go check on him. Upstairs, I found Max's bedroom door locked and could hear faint sniffing from inside.

I knocked and cleared my throat. Ah, listen, I'm sorry I didn't believe you earlier. I'd love to take a look at your spider. Mind if I come in? The door opened and Max stood. there, his eyes red, nose leaking snot. He sniffed again. It's not that, Ryan.

He lifted the cardboard box from earlier, but it was no longer a box. It had entirely come apart. In one of the sides was a hole the size of a dinner plate. It's shiny. He's gone. Right, I said, of course he is. It's true. Max, I said, bending to his level and inspecting the box.

You can't possibly expect me to believe a spider did this. It looks like you tore a hole in it. I expected another outburst from Max, but instead he shrank back into his room, face screwed into a scowl. You'll see, he said. When shiny gets big enough, he'll kill you, and Mom and Dad too. He slammed the door in my face. I panned it with my fist, but he wasn't going to open it.

That night, I retired to my room and fell asleep, certain that Max was making the whole thing up. But, if that was the case, why did I feel a lump forming in the back of my throat? I awoke to a jarring shriek from downstairs. I leapt out of bed, tangled in blankets, and danced on one foot, while I tried to be a little. to slip on a pair of jeans. I pulled a shirt over my head and stumbled into the hallway. Just the short ways ahead

was a trail of blood leading directly to the staircase. I bolted down the stairs, careful to avoid puddles of the stuff, certain that I was about to come face to face with a massive 12-legged spider. What I found instead was my mother in a nightgown,

hands over a mouth, standing directly over the corner, corpse of our Yorkshire Terrier. We called him Yip Yap. Yip Yap laid on the living room rug, inside spayed out for all to see. Besides fur and entrails, there was a much left to recognise. I leaned over and picked up Yip Yip Yip's collar, examining the small metal tag that hung from it. I ran my thumb over it, smearing some sort of black goo.

The trail of blood didn't stop at Yip Yap. It continued through the living room and into the kitchen, where it disappeared behind the door to the garage. It was slightly ajar. What happened? Said my father, rushing down the stairs. He stopped when he saw us, his eyes bulging. How did this happen?

He whispered in a hoarse voice. There was a small gasp from behind us. we turned to see Max the only person who could have had anything to do with this don't look at me he said shiny did it

shiny isn't real I shouted at him I don't know what you did that caused this to happen but I'm going to find out and when I do you went to the outside of your bedroom for months Max looked angry at first then his bottom lip

began to quiver his eyes weld with glassy tears. Mom and Dad got to work cleaning the corpse and blood. They'd wanted us to help, and I told them I would in a minute. I followed the blood trail

to the garage store, a splotch of black goo every few feet or so. Something was moving in the garage. I could hear it, snuffling around, knocking into things. It couldn't have been a spider.

It must have been as large as a raccoon. The door was ajar, and I slowly pushed it open. The garage was dark, even with the light on, and I didn't want to alarm the creature. A baseball bat had been resting near the doorway, and I lifted it to my shoulder as I moved stealthily forward, gliding toward the noise.

A wet, chewing noise. No, not chewing. A crinkling sound, like paper. Just ahead was a shelf of paint buckets And behind them a squirming silhouette I raised the bat Took aim and practised a few mock swings If I could nail one of the paint buckets in the right spot

It had crushed whatever was behind it Sure they'd be a mess I thought But this thing had killed my dog This was for yip yap I swallowed breath and raised the bat high, preparing for one final swing. Just as I brought it down. Ryan?

The noise surprised me and the bat collided with a paint bucket, but the wrong one. Grey liquid gushed in every direction, onto the wall, onto the shelf, onto me, onto the dodge parked directly beside me. The writhing silhouettes scampered, fast, than I've ever seen any animal run and contorted itself through a break below the splintering garage wall. In less than a moment's time, it was gone.

I swore loudly and turned to see Max standing behind me. I almost had him, I said. You were going to kill him, said Max. Of course I was, I said. He killed Yip Yap. Whatever he is, he doesn't deserve to live in our home. I examined the paint, dripping down the side of the car.

Oh man, how are we going to explain this to Mom and Dad? Uh, Ryan? Max was aiming a finger behind me. The paint bucket I'd been aiming for had been overturned in all the chaos, revealing what was behind it. A glistening shape, unmoving. I reached an arm behind the shelf and pinched the object between my thumb and forefinger. winting at the texture

cold and slimy holding it up it was immediately apparent what the thing was though I honestly couldn't believe it I was holding the mottled skin of a spider the legs curled inward

like that thing spiders do when they die there were eight legs on each side sixteen in total Ryan, said Max from somewhere far away, the fear in his voice distinctly palpable. What is that? It's a spider skin, I whispered. Some animals shed their skin.

It's called malting. Why do they do that? Because, I said, dropping the skin and shuddering. They grew bigger. You might expect that things escalated quickly after that moment, but they didn't. It felt a little anticlimactic, but after that day, things went back to normal. Almost. Nearly a month later, we buried yip-yap in the backyard, gotten Max a new dog,

and I'd paid Dad for the new paint job we'd had done on the car. Max was back to bring in weird objects to show and tell, and he hadn't mentioned shiny once since the incident in the garage. In fact, that month when nothing happened was punctuated only by the fact that Max sometimes became unaccounted for, disappearing for long amount of time in which I had no clue where he went. I didn't care either. Maybe I didn't want to know.

As far as I was concerned, that thing wasn't coming back any time soon, and even though my nightmares of being attacked by a 16-legged spider were becoming more frequent, my real-life experiences were as good as average. My bliss finally ended when I looked out my bedroom window one day and saw Max leaving the tool shed at the edge of the field.

He closed the door, locked it and strode from view. Was that where he disappeared to all the time? That's toolshed? I reminded myself that I didn't care. As long as Max was home in time for dinner, that was good enough for me. But a minute later, he returned to the shed, carrying one of our full-grown chickens. He produced the shed key and looked around to make sure no one was watching. Rightfully so, since Dad would become furious if he found out Max had stolen the key.

He was young and Dad claimed he would hurt himself. off on the shark tools if you got inside. Max opened the shed door, just wide enough to slip the chicken in. Then he locked it shut and headed back to the house. I stared out the window for a little while longer, but Max never returned. I wondered what he could possibly be up to by relocating the chickens to the shed, although it did explain why several had turned up missing over the past few weeks. I choked it up to a wild animal taking them away

and even entertained the theory that shiny returned to our property for a midnight snack every once in a while apparently the culprit was my own brother at dinner that night my dad brought up the missing key he said he couldn't find it

and he'd looked all over for it you wouldn't know anything about that would you Max? I said giving my brother the clasp I know what you did look. Max shook his head, down the glass of water in one gulp, and left the table. Frank, maybe you should talk to him, Mom said the dad.

He's been acting so strange ever since that dog died. My father was visibly uncomfortable, probably because it had become a taboo subject in our home to mention Yip Yip's death. It was so disturbing and offensively unexplainable. that we'd come to an unspoken agreement not to mention it. Maybe later, said Dad, bluntly, and he left the table too. That night, once everyone else was sound asleep, I laid awake, my mind reeling with possibilities. Finally, my curiosity got the better of me, and I found myself sneaking into Max's room. The key was easy enough to find.

he left it on his nightstand He stirred when I picked it up But never woke Outside The night was cool and windy I switched on the flashlight I'd taken from the garage And trudged out to the shed

It stood before me Washed in blue moonlight Still and quiet It was a peculiar feeling Being out here at night Like how I imagine Astronauts must feel All tethered to the shut

hanging by a thread over an expanse of infinity. I stood with my ear to it, listening. To no one's surprise I could hear movement inside. I couldn't hear chickens, but what I did hear was something large, something much bigger than the thing that had scampered out of the garage a month ago. A low, guttural breath drawing in and out. In and out. I moved a shaking hand to the door latch,

inserted the key and turned it. My hand stayed there for a long time, unmoving. I found that I couldn't well it to move. So instead, I counted to ten and forced myself to open the door. My flashlight beam fell directly on the thing inside. Coiled in the shadows was a giant centipede, its antennas twitching in the air, its skinned black and oily. Agitated by the flashlight, its body thrashed and the head surged towards me,

two massive pincers lusting for my neck. I managed to snap myself out of a trance and threw my weight against the door, shutting it tight. The creature's head collided with the wood and the whole building shuddered as the monster screamed from within. It was the worst sound I'd ever. heard, like two steel blades grinding against one another. My trembling hands locked the door and I tripped away, falling to the ground and crawling backward on my elbows, whimpering.

Stop! called a voice from behind. You're scaring him. It was Max. He ran past me and put a hand to the door, consoling the creature inside. Get away from that! I yelled at him.

It's shiny. said Max. He likes me, but only me. He won't hurt me, and he doesn't like light. Your flashlight scared him. The old shed rocked with each blow from the creature. The structure wouldn't last long, I knew, especially if the creature grew any larger.

The whaling was incessant. What is this? I asked, getting to my feet. Why are you feeding him? He's my pet, said Max, indignantly. I found him. He's mine. Another blow from the creature made the ground beneath me tremble. You can't hold on to him any longer, I shouted over the noise.

Max, you have to let go. If you say so. Max bent low and picked up the key I dropped. Before my brain could register what he was doing, he had already unlocked the shed. I felt a horrendous. horrific scream escaped my throat as Max threw the doors wide open, but the shed was empty. Other than the doors creaking on the hinges, the air was silent.

At the far end of the shed was a jagged, gaping hole, and beyond it, the wheat-filled swaying in the wind. I staggered forward on legs made of jelly. We have to go after him, said Max. I gave him a horrified stare, because that was all I could manage. It's the only way, Ryan, said Max. If Shoney reaches town, he could hurt people, maybe worse. If I'm with you, he won't hurt you. I'm the only one he'll listen to.

He had a point about innocent people being in danger. Going after Shini was the last thing I wanted to do. But Max had made up his mind, and I couldn't let him go alone. And then again, Part of me would be lying to say I didn't want to know how deep this rabbit trail went.

There was no questioning which direction the creature escaped in. A trail of flattened wheat wound its way through the field where his centipede had snaked his way to freedom. For the next 15 minutes or so we traded the path side by side,

me sweeping the flashlight in front of us, Max, calling for the creature through cupped hands. Shiny! Will you cut it out? I finally told him. Maybe he doesn't hurt you, but calling his name isn't magically going to make him come crawling back to you. Ryan.

Even if he does come back to you, what are you going to do with him? Where is he going to go? You can't keep him anymore. He's too big for that now. Ryan. I understand that you want to help him, Max. but we don't even know what we're dealing...

Ryan, watch out! Max grabbed the back of my shirt as my next step forward landed on nothingness. I looked down to see my right foot dangling over a black chasm and pinwheeled my arms before falling back. The wheat path ended here, a massive black hole in the ground.

Shiny had tunneled into the earth. There was no telling where he could be now. How deep do you think? think it goes, said Max, as I shown the flashlight into the abyss. I shook my head. I'm not sure, but... Do you hear that? Something big was moving through a patch of trees to our left.

I could hear tree trunks breaking, limb snapping, a dense thicket tearing apart. The noise was going louder, snowballing. I could see a dark shape moving just within the trees. as the new sound reached my ears. Something mechanical. A machine. I stepped in front of Max and switched off the flashlight, braced myself for a new monstrosity.

Moments later, an armored tank emerged. Its tracks rolling over the rugged terrain, moving powerfully into the wheat field and continuing ahead of us. We watched the back of it grow smaller and smaller as it surged, the horizon. Max said the thing we were both thinking. What just happened? His next words were drowned out by the scream of military jets soaring overhead in the

direction of the tank. A distant shriek reverberated through the countryside, the sound of an enraged monster losing a fight against hundreds of gunshots, machine gunfire that popped and cracked sporadically. The sky pluned with orange light and a worm-like beast rose into the air, flaming like a torch, as a harpoon speared the creature's middle and pulled it back to earth. One final cry echoed through the night, and then there was silence. Even in the darkness, I could see a hazy billow of smoke floating from the war zone.

Goodbye, shiny, said Max, raising her hand in farewell. It was nice knowing you. my arm around him and guided him back the way we came. When we got back to the shed, I inspected the damage. Nearly the entire back wall was gone and the whole structure leaned precariously to one side. Inside, the shed was filled with shiny black slime and something else. Big, oval-shaped objects were plastered to the floor. There must have been 20 of them, no smaller than three feet and a hundred.

height. I leaned close to one. Through a translucent membrane, I could make out something moving within. A body curling and uncurling amid a gelatinous substance. What are they? said Max, giving one of the objects a small kick. They're eggs, I breathed. Shiny wasn't a boy after all. I took a gas can from the corner of the shed and began to douse the floor and walls. Then, after Max and I were a good ten feet away, I struck one of my father's spare matches and tossed it into the shed. The whole thing immediately went up in flames, and we squinted against the yellow light,

feeling the warmth wash across us. Maybe it was just my imagination, but I thought I could hear the faint squealing within the crackling of the fire, the screams of baby monsters joining their mother, in eternity. Max rested his tired head in my arm, and that was how we stood for a long time, watching the flames lick toward the sky. Only dimly aware when our parents rushed out to meet us as the first signs of dawn broke across the horizon. I don't know much about government cover-ups, but what I do know is that I never heard about that night from anyone else, either on the news or from anyone in the surrounding area.

If Max and I hadn't witnessed it, it might never have happened. Things were slow to go back to normal after that, but eventually the event became nothing more to me than a collection of memories and bad dreams I'd probably have for the rest of my life. A month later, it was something that stayed in the back of my mind, not forgotten, but no longer dominating my conscious thoughts. I still picked Max up from school every day and enjoyed learning about the things he brought for show and tell.

As we pulled away from the school, I pointed to a new box he was now carrying in his lap. What do you have today, Max? A scorpion. I found him in the parking lot this morning. All my friends thought Brainy was the coolest thing I've brought all year. Brainy? I asked. Why'd you call him that? because he has two heads and that's the story of how I got into my first car accident.