CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "My Great Aunt's Garden Gnomes are Multiplying" Creepypasta

Episode Date: July 13, 2020

one... two... three...?CREEPYPASTA STORY►by Jgrupe: 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►Bogdan Rezunenko: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Zv5wSUGGESTED 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-

Oh, leon, that I'm in three days. I'm all moor as I'm more on think. Oh, that to seeer that morning off must, I'm all mooh as I'm just on thinking. Oh, this is all moor as I'm on thinking. Oh, I'm all moor as I'm on thinking. Have you it mollick on upgown to come? Give you yourself then a boost.

With biocure maxhot liquid. Three op-puppending plants. Magnesium, Izer. An energy booster, to get in right again to come out. Bio-cure, Max-Shot Liquid. Foodings Supplement, My great aunt's obsession with garden nose was a bit of a running joke in our family.

We would tease her about them at family gatherings, joking that they were taking over a property. She had more than a dozen of them scattered all over her back and front yard as well as in the garden. So, when she asked if I could drive her to the flea market one Saturday, I already knew what she was aiming to buy. Looking for another jewel for your front yard? I asked, smiling. In my family, we were always ripping each other. Of course, there's a perfect spot by the front door now, since we removed that shrub last week.

I need to get a special little guy to go there. They'd better have something interesting. When we arrived to the flea market, I saw they indeed have something interesting. It was in the front window of the shop, staring at us when we parked, and my great aunt lit up with a big smile. I couldn't understand her reaction, since my first thought was that the thing looked malicious and cruel.

There it is, that's the one, she exclaimed. So much for shopping around. She jumped out of the car while it was still rolling, dashing inside quickly on her arthritic legs. I hurriedly finished parking the car and chased after her, stealing a backwards glance at the creepy little gnome. It was dressed in green and purple, and her. had an evil grin on its small bearded face. It was holding an axe which glinted like a real blade in the sunlight. Excellent craftsmanship, the flea market owner was already saying when I got inside. He was walking back to the counter, holding the thing carefully in his hands, and I shuddered.

The idea of touching it revolted me for some reason. He set it down gently on the counter, and my great aunt began to fawn over it, preening its beard and running her fingers down the long blade of the axe. Careful! I shouted, a little louder than I'd intended. They both paused and looked at me with her eyebrows raised. It's not a real blade, Jason. Don't be silly.

My great aunt said, rolling her eyes and turning her attention back to the man behind the counter. I saw she was right. The blade had looked real in the window, but that had been a trick of the light, I summarized. How much? She asked. opening a purse.

This is a von Welkine original. They don't come cheap. He did all the detail work in painting himself by hand. This is one of the last pieces he did before he started to pump them out like crazy last year. All the fine handiwork he was known for, out the window. I hate to say it, but it's almost a blessing he passed away last month. This one went up for auction at his estate sale, actually.

The man sure seemed to know a lot about Gnomes, I thought. but my great aunt was nodded along as if she already knew this. Of course, it's so sad what happened to him. I've always wanted one of his pieces, not one of the newer ones, of course, but one of these with all the detail. It's stunning. I had to admit, she was right.

The gnome looked real. The fact that it was carved out of wood and painted by hand only made it more amazing. The features in the face were lifelike, as was the rest of it. The clothing appeared hand-sown and had little scuffs and rips in it, but of course it was all

just a masterfully painted block of wood. The beard and hat had texture and definition to them with just the right look of weight and feel as someone who had dabbled in art and was a student of it all my life I couldn't help being impressed by the sculptor's work.

The man quoted a price so high I actually laughed out loud. My aunt turned around and shot daggers at me. She didn't even haggle, just began pulling crisp 50s and hundreds out of a wallet and stacking them neatly on the counter. I couldn't believe my eyes. The revolting little thing was worth a small fortune.

I tried to talk her out of it quietly, but it was hopeless. She was angry that I would even suggest she pass on such an opportunity. This was an investment. We got back to her house and she set the gnome down with great care in the spot she had planned for it. It rested evenly on the stump left over from the removed shrub, looking very gnome-like on its naturalistic platform. She admired it for a moment, then shot me another dirty look and walked inside, slamming the door behind her. I stood there, looking at the hideous little gnome.

The axe blade seemed to glint again in the sunlight, as if it had changed me. magically into real metal again. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw the little bugger wink at me. I shook my head and rubbed my eyes unbelievingly. There was no way that had just happened, I thought. I was just working too many night shifts. I spent a bit more time there that day and managed to obtain my great aunt's forgiveness for my transgressions.

She showed mercy and provided me with a popsicle and cool lemonade. grateful for my assistance on such a hot day. I had to apologise for embarrassing her at the flea market, even though I was still disturbed by the gnome. I did some research when I got home and found out a bit more information online about the suspicious death of Mr. von Welkin. It turned out he had gone somewhat mad

in the weeks and months before his death. He had claimed it wasn't him making the myriad of gnomes in his workshop. The police had found quite a lot of the police had found quite an odd scene when they arrived at his suicide. I read on, fascinated. My great aunt called me the next morning hysterical. She wouldn't say what had happened on the phone, only that I needed to get there right away.

She said she was calling the police when she finished talking to me and hung up. I hurried over and arrived to find a pacing in the driveway. The police hadn't arrived yet, and I quickly found out why they weren't in a hurry. Someone destroyed my babies She was wailing as I pulled up in my car She was still in a bathrobe And complaining that the police hadn't arrived yet

Didn't they realise this was an emergency I surveyed the damage All the gnomes throughout the front yard And in the garden Have been smashed to pieces Actually I realised They looked like they had been hacked to pieces By the blade of a very small axe

The backyard was the same All of the gnomes had been destroyed And small piles of wood scraps were left Where they had stood the night before All of the gnomes were obliterated The one by the front door though Was still there Its tiny face smiled up at me

Eyes full of mischief The axe blade looked Like it had little splinters of wood all over it But that wasn't possible I dismissed such a notion as pure insanity. Those were the kind of thoughts that got you locked up in padded rooms,

I mused to myself. But, it sure did look like little bits of wood on the blade of the axe, like splinters from chopping up a bunch of other rival gnomes, perhaps. No, those are not the thoughts of a sane person.

I consoled my great aunt and she began to cry. I hugged her and she wept against my shoulder. At least I still have missed a winkles, she sobbed. Oh no, I thought. She's named the guy.

Mr. Winkles. What a name. I thought about his sly wink at me and shuddered. She went over to her one remaining gnome and picked it up, rocking it and smoothing down its wooden beard hair as if it had hairs askew. It was unsettling to watch.

I saw the neighbour's cat trying to get into the house and I went up to the porch to give it a few pats on the head. My great aunt saw it too and set down the gnome quickly, hurrying after me. She loved the neighbour's cat, Lucy. It was practically hers,

since she fed it every morning and evening, and it spent most days inside her house or roaming her backyard. The chubby old cat acted like she owned the place. Good morning, Lucy Lou, she sang to the cat. Did you see what they did to mommy's babies? Did you?

She scratched the cat under its chin and behind its ears while it purred happily. The cat rubbed his body against the robe, leaving mounds of shedding black fur behind. A police officer eventually showed up, looking bored and resigned to his duty. He took a lengthy statement from my great aunt and was told that this sort of thing happened a lot. Kids love smashing garden homes. It was what they did. I looked at Mr Winkles and wished kids these days. could be a bit more thorough in their vandalism. A week later, and I was back at my great aunt's house,

I was surprised to see she had several new gnomes scattered across a front yard and in the garden. These didn't look as nice as the old ones, and I wondered where she had gotten them from. They looked cheap and poorly made. The paint on these looked splotchy, and the details looked like they had been done by a child. The edges were smudged and uneven,

The patterns and colour choices clashed and hurt my eyes if I looked for too long. I asked her about them, and she said they'd just appeared there, a new one or two each morning for the past week. This morning there were actually five new ones, she said, with a faraway look in her eyes. She looked tired, like she hadn't been sleeping well. I asked if she was okay, and she nodded ahead without looking at me, then blinked for a few. seconds longer than normal. I asked her if she wanted to go lie down and she said that was a good idea. We decided we would go out shopping the next week since it wasn't urgent. She had just wanted to get a few gifts for Christmas since it was July and there wasn't a big hurry, at

least in my mind. The next week I came back and found her passed out on the couch in the living room. She was so tired I could barely wake her up and almost considered calling an ambulance until she bounced up, looking lively again. She said she had just been napping and was looking forward to our shopping trip. I asked her about the new ranks of gnomes which had begun to make walking to a front door difficult, and she laughed saying that friends had brought them for her. When I asked which friends, she wouldn't say. Mr. Winkles was waiting for us. when we pulled up at the house after shopping. I judged past him, glaring at him out of the corner of my eye

as I carried bags into the house. There was something off about all this, I thought to myself. There was something very wrong going on here. The new gnomes were even more disgusting than the last batch. They were hideous, deform-looking creatures. They were missing arms and legs, and the faces were twisted and distorted. the features were disproportioned and askew.

I felt a sharp pain in my ankle and cried out. I looked down to see my ankle bleeding from a wound. A flap of skin was hanging down unnaturally and blood was trickling down into my sock. I looked over at Mr. Winkles and saw a fresh rivulet of crimson blood running down his axe blade. But when I looked closer, there was nothing.

I complained to my great aunt but she said I'd likely call my leg on the railing and just blame me for not repainting it like I promised to months ago. I went inside and cleaned the nasty wound, replacing the flap of skin and putting a bandage over it to hold it in place. For a long time, it wouldn't stop bleeding. The cut was pretty deep. It took several of the bandages to do the job of covering it and I could still see blood beginning to seep through between the cracks around the edges. I went home and continued my research into the eccentric Dutchman

who had crafted Mr. Winkles. I had gone down a conspiracy theory rabbit hole and did not like what I was finding. A few days later, I went back to my great aunt's house. I went by in the late evening just before she usually went to bed without calling to tell her that I was coming.

I was starting to worry about her and I had a few bizarre suspicions after my extensive research. I needed to see what was happening there, if only to preserve my own sanity. When I arrived at a house, I parked in the driveway and got out of my car. I heard a low-pitched noise from the backyard and went to investigate. When I got into the backyard, I stopped dead. It was changed completely from the last time I had seen it.

The privacy hedges were blocking the public from seeing an oddly terrifying spectacle. trees had been cut down and chopped into tiny piles of wood the back deck had been dismantled its wood similarly refined and arranged into neat stacks the most obvious change was that there was now a horde of hideously deformed lawn gnomes huddled together in the backyard I heard the low-pitched sound again and looked to see the cat from next door

Lucy was being dragged away from the fence her claws digging into the grass as she tried to save herself she was being pulled into their midst by about a dozen gnomes who were tied her with ropes and were pulling her mercilessly towards the centre of the fray

where a crowd of other gnomes sharpened their glinting knives the cat howled and made terrified noises hitting and swatting the gnomes with the claws Mr Winkles presided over the mayhem sitting on a misshapen throne

car from Driffwood at the back of the lawn Some gnomes were working at the back of the garden behind him, chopping down another tree and cutting it up into usable pieces. A fire had been constructed, and more were huddled around it, roasting what appeared to be mice and squirrels and sticks. I shouted at them to stop, running into the midst of them, kicking them this way and that, sending their tiny bodies flying. I pulled the ropes of the cat and freed her as they hacked in my legs with their little knives.

I shouted triumphantly when I finally pulled the last rope off of her and picked her up in my arms She kicked with her back legs and took a sharp claws into my arms Jumping free from me and bounding away quickly I yelped in pain clutching my bleeding arms As the gnomes continued hacking at my legs with their sharp little weapons I felt a terrible pain in the back of my head And the world went dark

I woke up in a low ceiling cave with dirt walls pressed close to my face and cold earth beneath me. I couldn't stand up, couldn't even kneel down where I was. Clostrophobia gripped me, and I felt my chest tightened with fear as I looked around and saw I'd less than two feet of room between the floor and the ceiling. I started to hyperventilate as I tried to turn around and found I couldn't. I couldn't even get my hands in front of me. I realized I was bound and tied up like a sew,

with my wrists tied to my ankles. I was being dragged backwards, away from the light. I struggled against the knots and felt them giving away slightly. My only hope was that the things were so defectively imbred it had begun to affect their intelligence.

I pulled with all my strength and felt the ropes give way. I looked behind me and saw the gnomes had fallen backwards, surprised that their tiny string bindings had snapped. Their wooden faces crunched as I kicked them hard and smashed them with my shoes against the dirt walls of the cave.

I crawled forward, dirt flying into my eyes and in my mouth. The gnomes scrambled after me and attacked my legs with sharp knives. I screamed and flailed at them, battering them away as I made my way on my belly towards the light. Progress was slow, but fear of what was behind me drove me forward and I managed to ignore the pain of their attacks. I finally clawed grass and pulled myself out into the back lawn The cool night air was fresh against my face I scrambled to my feet and ran over to Mr Winkles

Where he sat in his driftwood throne He stood up on the chair and pulled out his axe swinging it menacingly I grabbed a flaming log from the fire It burned in my hands and I screamed but held it nonetheless I flung it with all the force I could muster hitting Mr Winkle square in the chest. The flames spread fast and he lit up like flash paper. He began to scream and wail, his varnish flesh melting.

The other gnomes ran over and threw sand and dirt on him, extinguishing the flames. I turned around to see my great aunt standing silently behind me. She slewed the blade of a very large knife into my belly. The pain was like nothing I had ever felt before. She twisted the knife and it flared up ten times worse. I thought I was going to die. There was no way anyone could live through that pain. I told you, no one hurts my babies.

She whispered in my ear as I collapsed to the ground. The knife still lodged in my gut. Von Welkin had gone insane, the story said. But there were other stories online too if you look deeper. If you probe the dark web for conspiracy theories, you could find more than a few people who said there was more going on in that case. The suicide note, for instance, it had started off in von Welkent's handwriting, but then had veered into childish block letters. In his writing, he said he hadn't made the new gnomes. He said that the winking one had made them, and his children had born more hideous and deformed children.

The block letters disagreed, saying, von Welkin had made the gnomes right before he lost his mind. The police had determined the scene unusual, but it was ruled a suicide nonetheless. I wish they had done more digging. Maybe they wouldn't have put up his gnomes for auction if they had realised what they were. Then maybe I wouldn't be here in this tiny dirt cave. I'm trapped here with nothing but the light from my dying phone to keep me company. I've tried calling the police.

They say to stop calling, that the prank isn't funny. They say, I've been to my aunt's house since seen her. Say there's nothing wrong, and that she doesn't have a great nephew. The police operator says there's no sign of a tunnel at the back of the house. Nomes are such excellent craftsmen.