CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "My daughter caught a shooting star" Creepypasta

Episode Date: August 9, 2021

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by TheCrookedBoy: 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►Disse86: https://www.deviantart.com/disse86/ar...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-

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Mosquitoes whined by my head like old American biplanes. I swatted them down like I was King Kong. More launched into dizzying waves. Jesus, I muttered. Slapping my sweat, slick skin, each time I, I felt the tingle of a mosquito penetrating. I know how wrong sounds. Imagine how it felt. It was in August night and northern Maine was hell. The air was thick and ripe with humidity and the wood spewed

bugs like Chernobyl's blown reactor spewed radiation. I stood in the middle of the messy field behind the quaint Cape Codd-style Airbnb we had rented for the weekend. The grass licked to my knees, dried, yellow, found on three sides by thick woods, the house at my back, trees everywhere else. During the day, it was a dull, muddy view. The trees drooping and sad, the grass twisted and dead. But at night, he went alive with fireflies. Thousands of glowing bugs winked on and off, doing whatever the hell fireflies do. What do fireflies do? What's their purpose, I mean? Other than leaving behind us. luminescent smear, I'd have to google later. I caught some, I caught some, my daughter, Ilyne declared as she waded

over to me, bright with excitement over the glowing mason jar, cupped protectively to her chest. The grass rose to her neck, parting as she moved through. She was only six, small and precious, and to her, those things were very important. Look at them dance, Arlene exclaimed. thrusting the jar up at me. Is that what fireflies did? I made an impressed base at a jar of trapped bugs of firefly prison.

Was that a novel? Firefly prison? Should be. Great title. That's great, hon. But where's mum at? It's time to go inside. Um, she looked around, kind of lost. I sighed. Once I find him, it's bed. time. Fine, bouncing off, bouncing off, more lightning bugs. As I drifted off towards a tall, scraggly, shadow-drenched forest in search of our dog, I felt a shiver ripple up my spine. It was creepy, quiet and creepy.

Mamet, I called, hating the way my words decayed out into the trees. David Mamet was our dog, aboard a collie, still chugging on at the ripe age of fourteen. His muzzle grey, his eyes milky with cataracts. I had named him, and now I had apparently lost him. I jumped when I felt something loose and oily rope up against my leg. That was how Mammett felt these days. His fur was oddly... Slimy. He stood beside me, panting, a low wine building at the back of his throat. Where'd you go, buddy? I asked him. His wise and he.

and old eyes looked up at me. Before he could reply, my daughter cried out. Oh my god! I felt my neck prickle with dread. Daddy! She squealed. I couldn't see her through the grass, so I chased her voice and found her squatting on her haunches, crouched over something on the ground. The jar of fireflies, the prison was capsized in the grass beside her, and it sprung. The trolled fireflies drifted out, What's wrong, Are you hurt? I asked, concerned. But when she looked up at me,

I saw, She was smiling. Look, Daddy, she hefted it up. I caught a shooting star. Is it? My wife, Monica asked, puzzled. She was tall, earthly beauty with firm features and long brown hair.

A big green eyes were fixed on the thing sitting in the middle of the dining room table. It was a three-dimensional, five-pointed star about the size of a fusbee. The kind of thing you'd see topping a Christmas tree. His construction was strange. It might have been quartz crystal. But no, it's too light for quartz, only weighing about as much as a hardcover book. His colour was milky and opaque, marbled here and there with darker, earthly tones. Its unblemish surface, its tips, but not cold.

Its tips pointed, but not sharp. Holding it, you could feel an almost deep vibration, the power resonating in its depths, leaching out. But that wasn't even the incredible part. Watch this, Mom! Aline squealed. She touched one tiny index finger to the star center, finding the slight incline that rose up between his five points.

Without any sort of dramatics, the star lit up. A warm, emanating from deep within its core. She touched the spot again and the light extinguished. Okay, what? Was all my wife could say, astonished, slightly concerned. It's a shooting star, mummy. I caught a shooting star,

Eileen said in one great burst. We've been seeing them all night, ratcheting through the night sky, an important cloud. lactic business. That said, I didn't know what the hell this thing was, where it had come from. My daughter claimed she had seen it hovering in the air just above the grass, said he was talking to her. Crazy, right? But she was small, and I didn't want her growing up too fast. So, I indulged her little fantasy. Eileen found it in the...

Field, I said, not wanting to admit, I'd taken my eyes off her, if only for a a moment. She, she, Monica, moniker, moniker asked, she gave me a look, I knew all too well. It said, And where were you? Can I keep it? Aline begged. Please, please, please. I remember what I said next in startling clarity. It was the three-sentence catalyst that had shredded through my life like an industrial combine, a great whirring blades of a tractor that would go chewing through my family, sparing only a clumpy red mess in his wake. Monica shot me a look that said, we are not keeping that. And I ignored it, not wanting to disappoint my daughter. Just for the weekend, honey, I said, but when we get home it stays here. Could be someone else left it behind, they might want it back.

My daughter squealed, wrapping me in a hug before lugging a shooting star upstairs. Monica's face darkened, flushing with blood. She fell betrayed, like I had gone behind her back. And maybe I had. But what the hell? What was the big deal? The star was harmless. I don't want that thing in the house, she hissed in my ear.

What's the harm? I asked. I don't. She drilled off, shook her head. It gives me a funny feeling in the bottom of my stomach. I don't like it. What's wrong with it? You found it out in the field mark. How does it glow? There's no battery panel or little charging ports. How does it light up? I sighed. Could be one of those tech things you see in the back of Christmas gift catalogs. Could be nothing to it. They have wireless charging now.

She shook her head again, but I could see she was relenting, feeling silly. She pinched the bridge of her nose, sighed, looked up at me, tired. Where's Marmot? I should take him out before bed. I hadn't seen him, since I had to practically drag him inside. He'd been acting strange ever since we found the star, whining and violently thrashing his head, like the thing emanated a high-frequency hum he didn't care for. I'm not sure, around, when I finally did find him the next morning, curled up in the obsessed closet.

He was dead. Blood crusted over his old grey muzzle, running in triggles from him. his eyes and nose. We buried mammothed manit, marking his grave with an oblong rock. His death had put a dampen on the vacation, but I had paid for the weekend, and despite my wife's protest, wasn't keen on leaving early. We ate dinner in silence, alien star on her lap, comforting her, it seemed. After that, my wife and daughter built a pillow fort in the living room, the glow of the star, silhouetted through sheets and blankets. Then the world grew dark, and it was time for bed. I went to kiss alien goodnight, when I heard us speaking in low tones. I paused outside a bedroom door

and listened. Why would I do that? she was saying in a horse whisper. I left my mom and dad. What the hell, I thought. I eased open the door and saw Eileen sitting crisscrossed apples, source on the end of the star was glowing, head-level with her. It instantly dropped to the ground. Eileen knocked up at me, startled. Then my voice caught to my throat. I couldn't think, couldn't breathe. The damn thing had been floating. What's wrong, Daddy? My Tos's voice came from a faraway place.

My vision swam, pinned on the impotent star at the foot of a bed. I could almost feel my thoughts and feeling, like it, like it was lassoing them out of my head. I fished for my voice. It wouldn't come. Then it did, clear as day. It was the voice of lies, of falsehoods and wrongdoings. It was my voice, but it didn't come from my mouth. It was whispered right in my ear.

It said, stay. I jumped and whirled around. Behind me, the upstairs hallway was empty. It was empty and dark, wrapped in shadow. Then it was flooded with warm, buttery light from Eileen's bedroom. I knew that light, starlight. The air changed, moved around me, charged and alive. I slowly turned, turned, knowing what I'd find.

I turned and saw the star floating just before my eyes. Floating before me, smooth and awful. light, red liquid to its surface, and dancing the star's skin. I knew instantly

who was the blood of my family. The world spun around me. Darkness crashed in in my vision. I had my daughter say stay as I crumbled down

in the darkness. I awoke in bed. Monica dampening my forehead with a cool towel. What? I started. Shh,

you need to rest. She's fine. She's asleep with a star. I bolted up in bed, startling my wife back at her. Get it's surprised. She looked surprised. It's comforting. It was flying, I snarled. Monica's eyes widened with surprise. Not used to that tone from me. I don't think having it's such a bad thing, she said. If it helps to process mammoth's death, a cold bolt of a knee shot through my chest. Last night, she had been against letting Eileen keep it, but suddenly, but suddenly, okay. Then I had a revelation, a slimy, awful revelation.

I looked at Monica in the eyes, remembering what my daughter had said. Does it talk to you? I asked. My wife's face answered for her. The colour drained away, her eyes darted away from mine, then instantly back. Does what talk to me? I stood up, stumbling up, styming up, and into my daughter's room. She was sound asleep, basked in the glow of the star, which sat harmlessly on the bedside table. I grabbed it and breezed outside without even waking her.

I brushed the star centre, dousing its light, and frisbee tossed it as far away as I could. It spun off, disappearing into the field with a muffled report. Then I went inside and crashed into the deepest sleep of my life. I awoke just before noon, a blast of late morning sunlight hammering through the windows. I groaned, my head pounding, felt like I'd polished off two six-packs last night. I stumbled downstairs into the kitchen. My daughter and wife were at the kitchen table eating peanut butter sandwiches. Monica and I avoided eye contact.

Pierre was loaded, heavy with the aftermath of our conversation last night. I grabbed a mug from the cupboard. The coffee pot shattered at my feet. The mug did a second later. My wife and daughter's head snapped back up in a bit of slapstick. I would have been funny under other circumstances. But there was nothing funny about the star planted an Eileen's laugh. The one I'd thrown out last night. Where?

I waited my lips. Where did you get that? Where'd I get what, Daddy? She asked. Star. All I can manage. She frowned. Beside my bed. The room swam. My breath went shallow. A cold rasp in my chest. I was going to faint again. I steaded myself on the counter. Looked to my family in the eyes. I took a deep breath and they shot into focus. We're leaving right now. I bolted upstairs and started packing. Monica found me in a mess of clothes. Mark, we're leaving early, throwing a jacket, like you suggested. I think, she hesitated.

I think we should stay a while, another week maybe. This place is where Mamet died. The dark Eileen's known all the life. She needs time to process that. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. What are you saying? She looked away before summoning the nerve to meet my gaze. I extended our stay for another few days.

You did what? Just until Ileam, it's no big deal. Why didn't you talk to me about this? She frowned. We did talk about it last night. No, we didn't. I stopped. We're mind racing. Had we talked about it? Last night was a blur, a hole in my memory. I remember tossing the star into the field. But why had I thrown it outside? I couldn't remember anything beyond that. I let her a long, slumped down in the bed, the weight of my shoulders. Monica's hand found my back, pulled me into a hug. It felt good, warm and good.

She leaned in, whispered in my ear. Stay, I remembered. I remembered last night, remembered the hovering star, remember the word I had heard in my own voice

that wasn't my own at all. I pried loose on my wife's embrace, I looked her in the eyes and saw a dim glow flickering just behind her pupils. Starlight. A memory fought to the front of my brain. A memory of my wife and daughter sitting in that pillow fort, bathed in the stars warm, soft light. A cold blanket of fear swallowed me. I staggered to my feet.

One of her arms tried to pull me back. I wrenched free. Stay, Mark, please. I ignored her. ordered her rushed out into the dining room, my wife calling after me. Aline was still at the dining table, her face pale, cheeks gaunt. She looked sick, like a kid from a children's hospital commercial. Stay, Daddy.

My daughter groaned, her voice horse. Can't you stay? The star was hovering beside her and spinning at incredible velocity. It was like a hacksaw blade screaming in place. Its pointed tips, a blur of jagged air. angles. It was flickering, throbing with light. Awful, Stay, Monica's voice in my ear. Stay with me and Eileen. But it wasn't Monica's voice at all. It was the star's voice. It was the star.

Stay, Daddy, stay. Eileen, get away from it, I screamed. But it was too late. With a great flash of light, the stars shot through my daughter. That moment is a blur, a fragment, and memory shattered by my tortured mind. I remember a great wet shredding sound, like a damp log being fed through a wood chipper. My daughter didn't scream. Her ruined body hid the floor with a thud, a hot splash of guts and blood slapping the whitewashed walls as she fell. My wife brushed past me, chanting, stay, stay, stay.

She stood, out, a gawed star in the air before her. Monica like a worshipper, paying to a lord, intoning the same word in a flat, leveled voice. Stay, stay, stay. Then the star blasted forward.

I remember my wife's death more clearly, a long, horrible frame of violence. The spinning star blew through her face, grinding through a beauty and a burst of red. Twists of brain blew out like shrapnel. A shroud of a jawbone embedded itself in my cheek just below my right eye. I didn't even feel it. Didn't feel the soft, warm rush of blood trickled down my face and onto my shirt. I was rooted in place. My whole body, heavy, encased in lead. My wife's lifeless body pitched forward and hit the floor with a dead thump, landing beside my

room daughter. There were tangles, a syrupy, a surrogly of blood expanding beneath them. And still, I heard their overlapping, chanting, a cacophony of stays in both my ears. Stay, stay, stay. The start turned on me, whirring, hovering, spinning,

a blur of movement. My wife and daughter's voices were getting louder. The star, spun, for me waiting for me to stay. the voice is my ear louder now,

deafening, burying through my brain like small brown insects. Stay, stay, stay. I scraped the bottom of my soul, channeling my anger and pain and confusion in a roar. No, I screamed with everything I had. All at once,

there was silence. My wife and daughter's voices gone. The star pulsed, it's light blasting out, dousing the room in crimson. Then... Bam. It blew through the ceiling, disappearing into the sky. Leaving behind two broken things that were the loves of my lives. I collapsed over their bodies.

And sobbed. The next few weeks were a blur. A blur of hospital in interrogation rooms. A blur of nurses. and detectives. I don't remember the dull, constant ache of my heart. My broken, the one moment I remember

with any clarity is being charged with the murder of my family. As I write this, I'm currently standing trial for the deaths of my wife and daughter. No murder weapon was recovered, but detectives are convinced I must have hidden it in the vast, untouched forest, sprawling the world beyond that field. What am I supposed to say? It flew off into the sky. My lawyers are fighting for an insanity

plea. And maybe I am insane. After everything I've seen, I can't be sure anymore. I've thought a lot about that star, where it came from, where it went. I don't know what it was, and I'm not sure I want to. I suppose this is a cautionary tale, a warning, and I'm a question. If I can spare one family, I've gone through, I've succeeded. If you ever find a star in the field behind your house, or in the grass, or in the woods, leave it and run.

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