CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "My buddy insisted that I see this psychic, but I wish I never went" Creepypasta

Episode Date: May 16, 2021

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by CeruleanDuskShimmer: 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...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-

That afternoon, the downtown traffic splashed through rain puddles on the street, spreading me as I rushed to all the psychic studio on Main Street and Bloom. The psychic shop blazed on the corner in neon glory, illuminating the street an incompatible shades of red. Bells chimed as I entered. Inside, sequined disco lights, the size of pumpkins, swung from the chip ceiling, emitting a pinkish glow into the closet-sized space. To the right, a burgundy velvet curtain,

operated the waiting area from the psychic's chambers, clashing with a faded red shag carpet that looked like it had been stripped from the floors of a condemned motel, circa 1970. Oh, God, I thought, am I really doing this? A small voice interrupted my reverie. May I help you, sir? He said, his voice thick with an accent I couldn't trace. I smiled, buttoning my umbrella shut. I dried my hands on my coat and nodded.

Yeah, I said. I want to make an appointment with I pulled out my phone then scroll down to the contact that Josh had sent me when he insisted I come here Ah, here it is Esmeralda

I said feeling awkward I scanned the room for familiar faces hoping not to find any But I was the only customer I had never been to a psychic I felt ridiculous But Josh said I had to see this psychic

Because she wasn't Quote Just any psychic The man nodded. Good, good, he said, a broad, eager smile spread across his face, revealing a missing front tooth. Plus, I admit, after hearing Josh's story, I was curious about this place. And then, of course, today was the anniversary of... Esmeralda is very good, the man said, interrupting my thought.

He stood about as tall as my chest, barely tall enough to see. see over the cash register. His head bobbed around as he spoke. I nodded, but I had to laugh at his enthusiasm. Yeah, that's what my body said. The man glanced at the clock. Esmeralda can see you in 20 minutes. I shrugged. Sure, why not? Good, good, he smiled. After I paid, he gestured toward the empty burgundy chairs in the waiting area. Please, have a seat. As I searched the crowdless room, I couldn't help but wonder,

if this lady is such a master, why doesn't she have more customers? You'd think she'd have a longer wait list. After what seemed like an eternity, the burgundy curtain parted, and a short, poorly woman in a mid to late 50s appeared. She wore a long, burgundy gown, and her hair was swept into a messy chignon,

secured to the top of her head with a pencil. Every finger on both hands glittered with jewels. She smiled when she saw me. You must be Nick, she said, her voice warm. Wait, I thought, I didn't tell anyone my name, did I? She motioned toward me. I followed her past the curtain down the hall to a reading room, then gasped. Wow, I thought, grimacing at the explosion.

of kitch decor. It was an interior designer's nightmare. Red gypsy Tiffany lamps stood at the side table next to a splayed deck of tarot cards, glittering candles and crystals, red-headed homo figurines and other knick-knacks. The room looked like a Christmas display gone awry as though a drunk, angry reindeer had thrown up.

I sat at the large round table where a candelabra stood in the centre, surrounded by smaller golden red candles. Esmerola took a seat across the table and gazed at me, her blue eyes soft and maternal. Now, tell me what kind of reading you would like, she said. She must have sensed this was all new to me, because she chuckled at my expression. Let me explain, she said. I do terror readings where I can read cards and tell you about a life problem,

and I do palm readings, and I do medium readings where I summon the deceased, who speak through me. That's the simple answer. So, during medium readings, you can summon anyone? She nodded, pretty much, she said, unless they don't want to talk. That has happened, but not often. She studied my reaction, then flashed a knowing smile.

This is the one you want, isn't it? She asked, her voice gentle. She paused. shuffling a deck of cards, then, is your lost recent? My stomach fluttered. Was it that obvious? It isn't that recent, I said, avoiding her gaze.

She set aside the tarot cards she had been shuffling and reached for my hands, taking me by surprise. Her hands are warm and maternal. A strange energy coursed through my hands as she held them. I want you to know that you're must. mother is okay, she said. The threat of tears burned in my eyes, but I fought them back. I wasn't going to be that guy.

Today is special, isn't it? She said. But she already seemed to know the answer. I nodded. Today is the first anniversary of a death, I said, looking down at the worn red carpet. She nodded, sympathetic. Here's what we'll do, Nick, she said. I light a candle and you close your eyes.

I guide you through a meditation, and then we ask your mother to join us. All you have to do is follow my instructions and tell me what images come up for you throughout the meditation. Okay? Okay. But before we start, there are three things you should know, she said. One, always keep your eyes closed unless I tell you otherwise. Two, if you feel overwhelmed, tell me and we'll stop. Three, three, three is the hardest, but you should know.

What is it? Sometimes... They change, she said. What do you mean? She shrugged. Just like we grow and change. Well, our deceased loved ones do too. Sometimes it isn't a dramatic change, but you should be prepared.

The thought concerned me, but it didn't sound like I needed to worry too much, did I? Before I could think about it, she continued. She smiled. Ready? I nodded. Let's do this. Remember, she said. Keep your eyes closed.

I didn't bother to ask why. Just follow my voice. I settled into my seat. close your eyes she said her voice gentle like the spring wind i obeyed and i listened a match sounded and the scent of lavender filled the room light invigorating relaxing a click sounded from across the table then a soundtrack played at a low volume ambient nature sounds with rushing waterfalls and rhythmic chanting it was just loud enough breathe in she said, her voice slow and soft, and breathe out. I inhaled, then exhaled. Again, breathe in and out. I relaxed, melting into the sound of a voice.

Let the images come, she said. And they did. Imagine you are travelling through a tunnel, a long, dark tunnel, with a soft white light all the way down at the end. This tunnel is taking you back in time. My body relaxed, growing heavier with each breath. I breathed again, deeper and deeper. I followed the tunnel toward the light, going back and farther back in time.

Then the house appeared. Where are you now, Nick? My parents' house, I said. I described their white stone house with ivory climbing up the walls and the greenhouse in the backyard. Tell me about it. the greenhouse? I described each image as it surfaced. It's all glass, filled with plants and tons of ivy, and inside the greenhouse a shovel is propped against the wall. I see it when I walk inside. Good Nick, she said, reassuring me. Now, what else? At first, it doesn't look like

anyone is there, I said, seeing snapshots of that day again in my mind, stunned by the clarity of the images. The detail was so vivid, so crisp. Then I see my mom's purse on the ground, tipped over, with all the belongings spilling out. I call the name, but nothing. Then... Then what, Nick? Then I hear someone groan from the back of the greenhouse, I said. I don't see anyone around, but I hurried to all the sound, following it, calling for her. Mom! Mom! But nothing. And what happened next? Then I find her in the back, curled up on the ground.

She's clutching a chest but can't speak. I panic, breathless. I grab my phone and dial 911. Then what? I can't keep her awake. My voice broke. I paused. I tried to.

By the time the ambulance comes, I could have... No, Nick, Esmeralda said, reassuring me before I had even finished my sentence. You couldn't have done more than you did. It was her time, you see. The hot sting of tears returned, but I've pulled them back and kept breathing. But she is with you, Nick, Esmeralda said, and she is here now. She says she wants to speak to you. Is that okay?

I nodded. Okay, Nick, Esmeralda said. Keep your eyes closed as I perform this next step. I nodded again. Something rustled. Then the scent of Jasmine wafted to the room. Esmeralda honed and chanted. I waited.

Barbara May, she said. We ask you to join us, Barbara May. Your son, Nick, has asked you to join us today. Speak through me, Barbara May, she said, conjuring a spirit like a magician. I listened with my eyes shut. Never mind that I had not. and told her my mother's name, or even my name for that matter.

At this point, I no longer cared how she knew the thing she did. As I waited, the energy in the room shifted. A chill pierced the air. I shivered. When Esmeralda spoke, I froze. Instinctively, I knew Esmeralda wasn't the one speaking anymore. Esmeralda was gone. Nick, the voice said.

her voice soft and careful as though trying not to frighten me I knew that voice I'd always know that voice it was the first voice I had ever heard her whirlwind of emotion tumbled through me mom

I kept my eyes shut as Esmeralda had instructed and I waited it's me Nick she said I wanted to open my eyes but apart to me was too afraid of

afraid of what I might see. Nick, she said, a voice dropping to a whisper. I've missed you, sweetheart. My eyes burned again, but I fought hard, holding back. Why did you leave, Mom? I asked, forcing back the emotion.

She sighed. I didn't want to go, Nick. Believe me, I didn't. Then why? I started, but I knew the question was of no use. Listen, she said, a voice sounding firmer, more insistent. I need to tell you something while I'm here.

What is it? She sighed again, as though contemplating whether to tell me something. As I waited, my heart fluttered in my chest. Honey? She said, sounding nervous. What is it? I asked. Something wrong? This is ridiculous, I thought.

Why can't open my eyes? but I had promised Esmerolder. Nick, she said, I'm not happy here. Something in a voice. It didn't sound right. What do you mean? I asked.

My anxiety growing. Something didn't feel right. I tried to ignore it. This place, she said, the pitch of a voice rising. Oh, Nick, it's so dark. Her voice lowered, then deepened. It's so dark here, Nick.

Chill swept over me, goose pimples raised up my spine like electric tickles. This didn't sound like my mother anymore. This couldn't be my mother. Then I remembered Esmeralda's warning. Sometimes they change. I've done a bad thing, she said. An ominous tone leaked from her voice, as though she was harboring a secret. What?

What are you talking about, Mom? I asked, even though I wasn't. sure that this was my mother. I've done a terrible thing, Nick, she continued, sounding agitated. What did you do, Mom? I asked, not wanting to know. Just know that I did it out of love,

she said. He had nothing left to live for. But I could hear the lie in her voice. I couldn't stand the loneliness, she said, a voice thick with desperation. I found a pickaxe and no, I shouted, but she wouldn't stop.

I had to, Nick, she said. I was so alone. What did you do, Mom? I asked, my heart racing and thumping like a juiced-up gymnast in my chest. What did you do? I didn't want to hurt. She tried to sound apologetic. Then her voice trailed off.

My stomach churned. Esmeralda, I begged. I needed to come back now. But nothing. Esmeralda, I shouted. I couldn't take it anymore. I needed to open my eyes. What would I see if I did?

But my mother kept speaking. Nick, I have three warnings I must give before I leave, she said, sounding unfazed by my terror. I don't want to know. I pressed my hands against my ears to tune her out, but couldn't. She spoke louder, sounding more authoritative. One, she said, the body is buried behind the garage. Look for the fresh man of dirt.

No, I shouted. sobbing, imagining my poor father. Two, she continued, her voice unwavering and merciless, don't climb on rooftops or you'll get hurt. Stop, I shouted. What was she talking about? And three, she said, ignoring my protests. I'm sorry, Nick, but a much, much worse fate awaits you.

That was it. I couldn't resist any longer. I had to look. Without a second thought, I opened my eyes. But I wasn't prepared for what I saw. Standing in front of me, in all her dead glory, was my mother,

but not the mother I had loved and remembered. This mother was grey-skinned and wild-eyed, her once blue eyes cold and steely, her cheeks gaunt, her eyes sunken, her once silky-blonde hair was coiled into a gnarled grey mess. She stared at me, unblinking. like a grotesque statue. In her eyes, I saw the absence of everything that should have been in a mother's gaze.

Esmeralda, I shouted. Come back, I want to end this now. But my mother kept talking as though she hadn't heard me. I'm sorry it has to be this way for you, Nick. And how? I asked, not wanting to know, but needing to know. But with that, the room went dark and the candle flame blew out, as though extinguished by some phantom breath.

A moment later, the light flips back on, and Ismeralda stood in front of me, calm and serene, as though she hadn't heard or seen a thing. What was that? I asked. What happened to my mother? Esmeralda shook her head. Sometimes... They change. As I drove home after the reading, I crept down the freeway at the speed of a geriatric heading to a bingo game after church. I was too afraid of what might happen. The speed limit was 60.

I drove 35. I ignored the many people who honked at me and gave me the finger. When I got home, I texted my dad, but never heard back. I was too afraid to go to his house, even though I wanted to. I tried to convince myself that my psychic reading had all been some elaborate mind trick or a prank. The next morning I called Josh, but he didn't answer. Minutes later, I got a call from an unknown number. The deep voice of a stranger replied on the other end.

Nick May, he asked. Yeah? Afraid I got some bad news. What? Is your father Jerome May? Yes, I said, feeling sick with anticipation. I'm afraid he's had an accident, fell off the roof doing some home repairs. Happened about an hour ago.

Wait, what? And who was buried in the garage? I wondered. What the hell? What happened? A neighbour reported a strange noise coming from your father's home, he said. Said he heard a man scream. After he called the station, we sent law enforcement to the scene.

When the officer alighted from the vehicle, he heard the voice of an older, unidentified male subject calling from a bush on the property. He headed toward the sound and found your father incapacitated. incapacitated? I asked, confused. Yeah, a broken arm. He said, I won't want to come down to the hospital for a visit. Is he going to survive? I asked. Probably.

As I dressed to go to the hospital, I flipped on the TV and listened to the news. A breaking news story interrupted the usual morning program. Breaking news, the news anchor said. This just in. Around 5 o'clock this afternoon, police responded to an anonymous tip that a body had been buried in the backyard of her home

in the quiet Dover Hills neighbourhood located on the southeast corner of Hammond Street and Trinity Avenue. Once on scene, police discover the body of this 20-something male, buried in a shallow grave. When the picture appeared on the screen, I dropped my coffee.

Josh. The anchor man continued. This man has been identified as 25-year-old Joshua Williams but I didn't hear the rest. I thought back to last night. Two, out of the three warnings, had already come true. I grew restless as I replayed my mother's words.

A much, much worse fate awaits you. Now, I can't help but wonder. What happens next?