CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "My girlfriend and I discovered an abandoned factory. We've decided to explore it" Creepypasta

Episode Date: January 1, 2022

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by Darkly_Gathers: 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►Anton Mikhalenko: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/zO...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-

It's so damn cold, my girlfriend murmurs, shivering. And I unwrap my scarf from my neck and chuck it onto her shoulders. Hey no, she replies, though she's smiling. Now you'll just get cold. I don't get cold, I lie as we walk together towards the factory. The factory is long abandoned, a massive half-collapse monolith out here in the scrublands. The area around us is covered in snow, and our shadows are long and dark. beneath the orange-white glow of the lone, still operational streetlight.

It isn't night time, not quite yet, but the day is dark and gloomy. There's no one else around, and the snow ahead is unbroken with any footprints. Do you think the rumours are true? I ask her, grabbing her shoulders and making a jump. She makes a noise at me and pushes me away. Well, duh, of course they're true. They have to be. We would have to be. We would be exploring a non-haunted building now, would we? That would be boring. The entrance to the factory approaches. The glass is smashed in one of its outer doors and the other is covered with wooden boards, now well-grafeated. There's a crude marionette spray-painted in white and an ominous

cryptic. Don't get strong, warning squawed beneath it in black. Don't get strong, I whisper creepily into Laura's ear, and she laughs and pushes me away for a second time. Her laughter fades as we step up to the factory's door, the gates to the unknown. Well, I say, are you ready to go in? Yeah, she replies, glancing behind her. Yeah, let's do this. So, in we go. I grab the handle and grunt with a strain, but I'm able to force it open about a foot, and we squeeze away through the gap and into the shadows. The wintery breeze becomes a steady, ongoing backing rumble as we push steadily into the hallway and through further broken doorways. There are portraits hung up here in the lobby, completely dusted over and faded, and only the faintest silhouettes are still visible.

It takes some time to admire them, or what's left of them, to try and decipher what they might once have depicted. One of these faded silhouettes looks kind of like a man or a person at a person. at least, with her arms outstretched. Another looks like a spool of string. I tried to rip away some of the layers of crime and dust, but not much else is revealed. This is so creepy, Warren murmurs. What do you think they used to make here? No idea, I reply as we stepped through the lobby and into the main room of the factory's ground floor.

Weird are this place still hasn't been properly emptied though, given how long it's been here for. All around us are curious, slumbering machines, unusual and unrecognizable, dark and rusted cogs and gears, pistons, and roared those layers upon layers of dust. A shiver of shock runs through me, and I start an alarm as I notice a group of pale creatures in the corner, watching us silently. But they're only mannequins, faceless and harmless. A nervous laugh escapes my throat. Laura follows my line of sight and pushes me gently. Those things over there didn't scare you, did they? Huh? I shake my head at her, and she laughs too.

This place is crazy, though, I murmur as we walk around, our feet kicking up small but thick clouds of dust with every step. Up and across the walls is more of that disturbing graffiti. It might have looked somewhat amusing from the outside, scrolled onto the bordered updoor. But in here, in amongst the shadows and illuminated in the glow of our phone lights, it looks downright nightmarish.

Large, sinister marionettes, painted crudely and faded black, eyes wide in staring and twisted grins painted in bleachbone white, stare out from the darkness. Some of these puppets have puppets of their own hung from strings from the creature's fingertips. We don't laugh at it.

about it now. Laura reaches out from my hand and clenches it tightly. Come on, she says, let's keep exploring. And so we do. Past rows of broken, intertoy machinery and another gaggle of mannequins. This group fallen clonzzily to the ground. We slide a rusted and crumbling chain from a set of peeling double doors. Creaking it open and walking through reveals a section of the factory in a state of greater disrepair than the previous. A section of the roof was caved in, and through the holes in the ceiling are revealed dark, narrow ventilation corridors, and thin streams of grey, silvery light.

A light snowfall drifts in through some of these cracks, and the floor and the machinery ahead are all dusted with a thin layer of white. This is so damn cool, I say to her. What do you think? The whole atmosphere is so creepy. My words are cut short as something shifts up ahead. With a little cloud of dust, a wooden plank slides from a pile of debris and down to the snow-lined floor with a soft clatter.

We stare at the debris, Laura and I, in dead silence. Silence that is shortly broken by a quiet voice in the gloom. Nothing to worry about. Hey guys. My blood chills as a shadowy figure emerges from behind the wreckage, though I try to rationally. eyes as I realize that it's just some guy. He's holding the camera and his hand lifts in a wave. I feel my girlfriend's powerful relief as a grip in my hand loosens considerably.

Hey, I call out to him. He's a weedy looking guy, pale and slight, and, and curiously, he has two dark strips painted just above and below each of his eyes, right up across the eyelids. How's it going? He asks as he clumsily steps close. closer. He stumbles over an outstretched plank and crashes right towards us. Oh, Laura catches him and I managed to grab hold of his camera before it drops to the ground. Damn, sorry, he mumbles as he retracts from Laura's grip and he takes back his camera. He nods to us as he slips the strap back over his neck. Thanks, so didn't mean to frighten you. I come here sometimes, take pictures.

He raises the camera again before let me. letting it hang down against his chest. What are you guys up to then? Exploring. Yeah, I reply. Nice to meet you, man. My name's Gary. This is Laura.

Hey, she says. Hi, says the guy. My name is Cordes. Cordes? He nods. It's French. Listen, you guys really should be careful in here, you know. This isn't like other urban exploration places.

Believe me. a gesture to his eyes. What's the deal with the face paint? He nods solemnly. I reduce his glare for the camera flashes, let you see better in the dark. Crucial really in the factory. You guys want some.

It helps. I watch with curiosity as he reaches into his pocket for a small dish of black skin paint. He cracks it open and rubs some on his fingers. And then, before even waiting for permission, he reaches towards Laura's face. He takes a step back. Um, uh, no, thanks.

She looks over to me, awkwardly. I'm not sure what to make of this guy, but I'm not taking any chances. Maybe he's right. It probably is better if we just leave. Yeah, uh, it was nice to meet you, Codes, but you're probably right. Maybe we should just go.

Codes' eyes suddenly light right up, the pale blue, and appear even more striking. when contrasted with the dark paint all around them. He isn't looking at us, though. He's looking between us. He jumps suddenly and sprints in front of us. He stares out into the darkness. Something's wrong.

Get back, he mutters, then a little louder. Both of you, get back. He half turns and pushes Laura's shoulder, and she's forced into a step back. He shoots me a glare as I do likewise. What the hell? I hiss, but he waves me silent. We watch, our breathing suddenly loud,

as our ears tune in to the secretive sounds of the factory. And a shadow creeps to the darkness ahead, right through the open doorway that Laura and I left behind us. Jesus, I mutter, and Laura starts to quietly swear under her breath. The shadowed thing becomes clearer as it steps further into the light, and the only way I can think to describe it is as a giant rat

or as something wearing a rat's skin stretched grotesquely across an animal far too big for its body it's horrific damn oh god Laura screams as panic starts the set in as I stagger backwards and start fumbling around for an item to use as a weapon Cordes steps calmly forward and raises his camera With a well-in focus, the camera flashes a bright white glare, one that reflects in the monster's eyes. It lets out a screech and stumbles into a pile of bricks.

Quick as the flash on his camera, Cordes leaps forward and grabs the nearest brick, swinging it down hard under the creature's head. With a spurt of black fluid and a distasteful crunch, the thing releases one last screech and lays still. There is a moment. of silent confusion and horror. Laura and I are crouched together, wide-eyed, and Cordes drops the break to the ground with a thunk. He grabs the creature's tail and starts to drag it across the floor, towards one of the narrow streams of silver light coming through from the ceiling. Cordes, I call over to him.

Cordes, what the hell are you doing? But he doesn't answer me until the bulk of the monster is within the light. then he drops the tail and catches his breath. Look, he says, pointing to the rat. Think on what you've seen of the graffiti and really look at this thing here. Look at it. Blood pumping, I do so. I squint at the dead thing caught in the light,

and it's as if something suddenly triggers in my brain. A switch is flicked, and I see the creature for what it truly is. In the space of a second It goes from looking like a massive Deceased and disgusting rat To a puppet I see the joint in its necks Its jaws

I see the mechanisms that have its legs Affixed to its now Strikingly artificial looking body And its eyes Its eyes don't look real anymore They are fakes Shiny stones implanted into a man-made skull A marionette

What the hell is this? I ask Cordes in a raspy voice and he grins humorously. I'm here all the time, he whispers in the darkness as the snow falls through the ceiling. I catch glimpses of it sometimes. The puppet master, like a cloud hanging thick in the air, woven into the factory's shadows. He taps the camera and I'm going to find him. I start slowly but steadily backing away, keeping a tight hold of Laura as I do so. Right, I reply. That's great, man, really, but I think we're going to be going now.

Are you sure? He asks, cocking his head. The puppeteer loves guests. His voice is soft, but he carries far. I might be able to find him tonight. You'd be more than welcome to accompany me. Laura looks between us I think we're good Cordes

Her voice shakes Thank you though And with that we turn And we run Not past Cordes and back through the rat door But across the length of the hall behind us Past the debris and the machinery Hey Cordes calls after us

Hey wait But we do not We race round a corner and down a pipelined cobwebbed corridor in the darkness. A bleak, lightless, old emergency exit sign, now more grey than green, promises a way out, and we follow it through a room in the factory's side. The place is full of mannequins, mannequins and marionettes. Most are featureless and formless, but terrible pin breaks of fear stab into me every time I catch a glimpse of a face amongst wreckage. A carved smile or leer,

wide and soulless eyes, glittering in the dark. but only on the surface. There is no light behind them. The way out is blocked by rubble, but an adjacent hall is where we push through next, kicking our way through piles of twisted puppets. It's as I'm running through a collection of wooden and silicon animals, reptiles mostly,

that the floor beneath me simply gives completely away. The rotted wood beneath my feet collapses with my footfall, and down I go in a cloud of dust and chippings and shavings of blood. glass and concrete. Gary! Laura calls from above me in panic as I fly through the darkness, only to land with a crunch and a thud and a pile of further marionettes. Ah!

I groan, rolling to the side and shielding my face from falling splinters. Gary? Laura calls down again. Are you okay? I cough and a little storm of dust billows out from around my face. I cough some more, then raise my head to the pale light. filtering in through the hole in my new ceiling. Yeah, I call up.

I'm all right, Laura. Just make it out, okay? Just get out and wait for me at the car. Gary, it's all right, okay? Just go. I'll come meet you outside. Don't wait up. And after a moment of hesitation,

she does so, and she vanishes from sight. I clear my throat and take in my surroundings, clambering to my feet. The hectic panic of a. A few moments ago gives way to a cool sense of general unease. I tried to steady my heartbeat as my eyes adjust to the dark. Okay, no need to freak out.

Think rationally and just find a way out. Don't rush. Just be efficient and cautious. I mutter to myself as I stumble through the shadows, as shapes start to form before my eyes. Pipes, posters, and puppets. I kick up against a pile of heads And one of them drops and rolls around in an arc right in front of me

I don't know what it's supposed to be Doesn't look human At least not in this light Nor is it any animal I recognize I shiver and step past it Round a corner and into a wider room There's some light in here Faint but present

A dim flickering orange from an old and poorly-wired LED by a wooden workbench. Dusty blueprints are plastered across the walls. And I jump in terror at the sight of a figure in the corner of the room. Christ, I splutter, only to force myself back to a state of calm as I realise it's, quite obviously, just another marionette strung up from the ceiling. Its strings are incredibly thin, almost invisible, but for the orange light caught reflecting the wire,

this one doesn't look human either. It's a lanky, lumbering thing, skinny, just about seven feet tall. Its feet hang maybe a couple of inches above the floor, and his head lulls at an angle. The Marionette's head is eyeless, and its neck is longer than I feel it should be. Its mouth takes up a good half of its face, if it can even be called a face at all.

His jaw hangs open to reveal a void within, a void lined with red-black shards for teeth. I hate it. The flickering light plays tricks with my mind. It gives the impression that the creature in the corner is twitching. I think on the monstrous rat that we saw upstairs. Don't you dare, I mutter quietly, edging around the side of the room towards the doorway in the opposite corner. Don't you dare. move. Quietly, I creep, steadily making my way down the length of the room. I rest a hand on the

desk behind me to steady myself, using it as a support as they not trip or stumble. And the creature waits in the corner, the monstrous marionette, a nightmare in the flickering shadows. Please, I think desperately, please just don't move. And as I finally reach the door, doorway, I lift my hand from the desk only for it to tip back to its original position with a thunk and a thud. I cringe and stop with petrified terror as the sound of a pencil rolling across the wood reverberates through the room. There's a pause, and then a gentle clattering and tinkling as it lands on the concrete below. And in response, the head of the marionette creaks around in the darkness. I am stuck where I stand, petrified and useless as the strings of the nightmare start

to twitch and stretch. The thing swings gently from left to right, left to right, and with another sickening creak it drops from its hanging position to the ground, its artificial feet flat on the ground below. I watch as it slowly raises its eyeless head to face in my exact direction. His jaw cracks. I do not run. The creature is clearly aware of my presence, but I do not know if he can see me. With my eyes wide and breath held, I stepped silently out of the room.

I do not know how I do this, as I do not recall issuing the command to my legs. But with caution I didn't even know as possible. I stepped through the shadows of the doorway and down the adjacent corridor, not daring to speed up, but also determined to keep moving. A noise, the sound of something like a low growl or a cough mixed with the grinding of metal cogs echoes from the room behind and it sends a river of ice shooting through my blood. I try to move a little faster and one of my feet comes down too hard onto a lone wooden spool. He rattles out and away and taps up against the wall and the sound of creaking behind me grows louder.

Constitution breaks, I abandon my attempts at silence and power through the corridors, looking for a door, a staircase, just something, anything. I swear to myself repeatedly as I pass through shadow and concrete and rotted wood. I pass beneath an ancient red light, a disturbing beacon, or perhaps a warning in the dark. The corridor ahead is long and narrow, and I race down it as fast as I can. A vision of mechanical arms enters into my mind, of hands breaking through the walls and reaching out for me, grabbing at my clothes. But, mercifully, this remains just a vision.

As for the creature, however, at the end of the corridor, before a sharp turn down another, I look back behind me into the shadow. Stumbling after me, an illuminated red beneath the lone, hanging light, is the twisted marionette. It takes up the entire corridor and shambles as fast as it can, scraping against the corridor and grinding its inner cogs. It rumbles out a low, hungry shriek and reaches out for me. I catch further glimpses of the strings, but I cannot tell for the life of me what they could possibly connect to. I don't waste time looking. Help, I cry out into the unknown as I do my best to escape, Goodness sake, someone, Caudes, help me, please.

This corridor ends in a final room. The room is shadowed, and at the far end is a lone, locked wooden door. Broken puppets lay all around and up against the wall. Some are animals, some are creatures I do not recognize, some have the rough appearance of children. My heart pounds, and the following thing draws closer. That sound of scraping on concrete Of heavy, shambling steps

Grow steadily louder and louder I sprint the length of the room and try the door Locked Damn it, damn it, damn it I tried again I half-heartedly look around for a key But I can barely focus I can hardly think

There are no keyhooks, nothing on the desk I grab hold of the desk drawers And yank them open They are filled with papers with glue guns and cartridges, pens spools of string and dust, always dust, but no keys. The scraping grows louder. I cast a terrified look to the doorway to the corridor. Any second now, a monstrous shadow is going to clamber through.

Any second. I rushed to the door and plant a foot in the rubble, and with my other, I kick out as hard as I can. right at the spot beneath the handle. The door groans and shivers, but hardly budges. I try it again, kicking as hard as I can. Again it groans and dust rains down from the hinges, but the door stands firm. The sound of the scraping grows louder. I can hear its footsteps clearly now, heavy against the floor.

I can hear the strangled, desperate breaths from its monstrous jaws. I shoot to look behind me and can see the edges of its shadow creep into view. Come on! I scream and kick as hard as I can. Once, twice, a third time. But the door does not break

and the lock holds firm. I turn and press my back up against the door, struck with terror as the shuffling marionette edges into the view through the doorway. It is a tall and twisted thing and it jerks unnaturally as it moves. Its jaw falls open and dark fluid leaks from beneath its narrow teeth. Something lulls around in that horrific mouth, and it suddenly speeds up.

I don't know how it knows where I am, but it clearly does. It strides towards me from the darkness. The sound of its hunger grows louder and louder in my ears, and the door behind me falls open. I stumble backwards into the unknown through the door, and watch in cold shock as the monster tries to run. It is met with a heavy door slamming shot in its face. And Laura appears behind me,

rushing forwards to slide the door's bolt back into place. She turns to me and grabs my face in her hands as the monster shrieks and thuds behind the door. Are you okay? she asks, and I nod, bewildered. Okay, then come on, let's get out of here. She grabs my hand and leads me to a set of it. of nearby stairs. Up we go and back into the dim, grey factory light.

Cordes is there and he nods at me. You are stupid to run, he says, looking over my shoulder. His camera held tightly in his hands. But for real, I think you guys were right after all. It's time for you to go. Come on, let's head back through the way you came. I struggle to speak. I can't get the image of the monster on the level below out of my head.

the image of its tortured, shambling body, its hanging jaw, and those strings are caught in the light. We reach the hall with the holes in the ceiling, the hall with a thin layer of snow and streams of silvery light, and as if in slow motion, Cordes draws to a gradual halt. He turns to face us and my eyes drift down as he reaches into his pocket. He pauses, looking us both over. and his eyes meet mine.

The tension grows until it breaks with a quick, sad sigh. Cordes steps aside. I do not quite understand the significance of what is happening here, but I am flooded with a curious relief. You both know the way out, he says quietly, but you do well not to come here again. Thank you, mate, I managed to mutter. And out we go.

Rora and I run through the hall I shoot one last look behind me before we push the doors and return through the room full of machinery back through the dusty lobby and back into the world outside we don't screw around and are back in the car

and heading home within minutes leaving the factory behind us I caught sight of something else you know as we were leaving when I turned to look back that one last time caught in the silvery light from above and attached to Cordes' joints were a series of strings, taut and wiry, and pulled up high into

the shadows above and all around. I watched as the strings on his head were pulled, and he turned to look at a sleeve. I heard the soft, sad clanking of cogs from his body, saw the stretching of strings on his arms as he adjusted his camera. And I saw the shadow pass across his face. face as he vanished from view. When the ancient door clans shut. I still dream of their factory sometimes.

Loras are worse. I can hear her in her sleep, mumbling, terrified. I have to wake her up to keep her from becoming trapped in her nightmares. And sometimes, some nights, she swear she can feel something tugging at her joints, something unseen in the darkness. trying to draw her out of bed and away.