CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "My neighbor planted his fingers in my yard. They're starting to sprout" Creepypasta

Episode Date: March 17, 2021

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by AM_Hathazard: 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/CreepsMcPasta​CREEPYPASTA 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-

The festival's season is Aangbroken and that betekent mudder. And so, ging Kim to come to comason.com. On the way, on the waterdict tent, a comfortable

luget, oh, so, knus, and Lupeart print regalarze. Miao. Now, he has Kim

not so much the dancing the modermann there, oh, wait just even, has he now only modder on?

Oh, yeah, only modder. Drove blithe? Goar for. Find what you need to get on Amazon.com. Pearl charged from across the neighbor's lawn, all white fluff and big clumsy paws.

My ass collided with the side of my kear, and I squatted down to accept my daily barrage of puppy kisses. Mrs. Douglas came running after her, dropping her hands to her knees as she reached us. Sorry, she hoved. That damn dog is too fast for her own good. I laughed and scratched Pearl's ears. Have you been a good girl? I asked her. Mrs. Douglas snorted. You're lucky, you still have a dog at all. She tried for peatite drengers today.

Oh no, I said, shifting up and wiping the pawprint from my grey slacks. Not too much damage, I hope. Nah, I stopped her in time, thankfully. Thanks, Mrs. Dee. I flashed her a grin. We owe you our lives. She waved the thought away and turned back toward her own house on the corner. It towered over the small little box I called home,

shining a light on my own inadequacies in more ways than one. Oh, she spun back around. That reminds me. He's been asking about your lawn again. Oh, has he? If you just let him mow it, he'll get off your back, and mine. I clicked my tongue and wagged my finger at her. Now, now, Mrs. Dee, you know I don't give it away that easily.

The older woman rolled her eyes, but gave up the fight for now just the same. I carot pearl inside. and went to work on both our dinners, chuckling to myself about the whole damn thing. I didn't know Mr. Douglas all that well, honestly, just the things I'd heard from his wife. He was crazy about his yard, I knew that much. More often than not, he was the recipient of the neighbourhood's most beautiful lawn award, much to the chagrin of old Mrs. Huxley down the street. He always waved to me as we headed off to work in the morning, but other than that, we didn't talk much.

he seemed like an average boring sort of guy the pointed comments about my own unmanageable mess of weeds and vines might have been taken with greater offence if he wasn't so harmless I settled down on the couch with a microwave dinner and a pbr just in time to hear Mrs Douglas calling for the kids out the back door there were two of them a boy around ten Stephen and his younger sister Lily Stephen and his friends were hellions around the neighbourhood stampeding their bikes up and down streets and driveways,

hooping and hollering the hallway. Little Liddy followed like a groupie, but from what I could tell, her brother kept a good eye on her. My neighbour's shouts were punctuated by the sound of thundering drumming across the sky, low and distant, but prolonged enough to tell me something massive was coming.

Pearl wine next to me. I was in for a long night. Several hours and a handful of beers later, I was laying on my bedroom floor with a pillow and comforter pulled down with me. Pearl was curled tightly in the closet, nose buried in a pause as the rain ripped and rumbled outside.

I was just drifting off into a fitful sleep when a resounding crack shook the house and I shot up like a rod. Damn, I thought, here we go. I've been living in fear of the massive oak tree in the backyard since I bought the house in the first place.

It's ancient branches hung like a claw over my roof, threatening with every strong wind to reach down and grab a hold of it. I was saving up to get it trimmed, but damn, if that wasn't half the cost of my down payment right then and there. I struggled up off the ground, groaning and pouring at the back of my head. Pearl whimpered and ducked away, so I gave her a pat before snatching open the nearby curtain. A torrent of raindrops danced along the window pane, obscuring the view of my backyard. The streetlights from the main road provided a meagre amount of light that cast shadows over the barely thawed grass and made me squint to make sense of anything. A flash of lightning lit the air and while the tree in my periphery remained fully intact, that's not what caught my eye.

There was someone in my yard. The darkened figure was crouched down in the grass, knees sinking into the watery mud and hands fiddling with something in front of him. I grabbed the jeans still hanging over my dresser, nearly knocked myself back out, hopping around to pull my shoes back over my heels. I should have called the cops. I know that now. But I spent plenty of my life living in worse neighbourhoods than this. Honestly, I just thought it was the local crackhead from the apartment complex down the street.

I slammed my screen door open and grabbed the aluminium bat I kept propped by the back door. I could handle this just fine on my own, I figured. Hey there, buddy, time to move it along, I called out to him, one hand shielding my eyes from the downpour. I stuck under the overhang of the roof to keep cover, but as I turned the corner, the automatic light with the door kicked life. The shadow figure turned to face me, and reflexively I swung the bat up over my head. Mr. Douglas was kneeled in my yard in a pair of fraying boxer briefs, balloon-like gut hanging loose over the elastic band. From his torso down, he was stained slick with something dark and viscous that even the downpour above couldn't wash clean. His eyes were wild in the brightest fluorescent glow, feral almost, like a raccoon caught in a cage.

If only. He pulled a foot underneath of himself and pushed slowly off the ground. Mr. Douglas, I said, holding tight to my bat. You're right, man. He weaved forward and to the left. his arm raised up in my direction. More dark liquid oozed out of the appendage, my knees turned to cello. He didn't have any fingers.

Well, he still had one. His thumbs, currently hanging off to the side, held on by a small string of sinew. The dangling digit captured his attention, and he raised it, trembling to his mouth. I won't lie. I bolted. My screen door crashed behind him. me, joining the keen of Pearl's deafening howls. She was out of a closet now, trying to push away out of the door behind me, snarling and spitting. I dropped the bat and grabbed up other

collar instead to wrestle her inside. I clicked the deadbolt in place, just as Mr. Douglas collided full force with the door. My knees sank into my scrunched-up comforter on the bedroom floor as I clawed around for my forgotten phone. Pearl's growls, punctuated by bang after bang, left my own fingers shaking like leaves when I finally scooped it up. Each ring echoed like a church bell bouncing around inside my ribs. I crawled into the dog's hiding place in the closet, and seconds later, she leaped right in with me. 911, what's the location of your emergency?

My neighbour, he's hurt. He's trying to break in. Sir, you need to calm down. What's your location? The sound of glass shattering reverberated from the next room, and, an evening. I nearly dropped my phone, scrambling back out. 5-8-7-8 Wallaby Avenue! I shouted out, shoulder enclosed my bedroom door, just as a bloody knob snuck through it.

What was left of his hand pinched between the door and the frame. Just a massive gristle and bone fragments. I gagged and charged against the door. And what's the nature of the emergency? My neighbour broke in. There's something wrong with him. There's something... It was his turn to throw his body weight against the door.

The pressure of the blow left my phone flying from my phone. my hand, left me staggering back at his surprising force. The Mr. Douglas I knew was much too much of a lily ass to throw a baseball around with this kid. How the hell did he get so strong? Pearl started up again, darting between us, just as another thud left the door flying open and a pale, pudgy body staggered through. His skin was reminiscent of cotter's cheese in both texture and tone. The gore caked along his torso in arms didn't do him any favours.

Pearl lunged to his groin And while I winced reflexively at the attack He didn't so much as whimper He did however Reach down from my dog's neck Going for the scruff Before he seemed to realise that he couldn't grab a hold Instead he levelled a swift kick away

Leaving a squealing I rushed forward Grabbing the lamp on my dresser And shoved it as far as I could Into his puffy cheeks The force of the blow left him staggering But ultimately didn't do much to deter him He tumble back over one of the dining room chairs,

a shout of glass left in his wake, pierced right up through his heel, but even that didn't seem to stop him. He was back up in no time. To my relief, I heard the sweet call of sirens, singing in the distance. I shove the door closed again, and wrapped my arms around Pearl.

I hadn't picked her up since she was a pop, and before that moment I wasn't so sure I could anymore. She struggled against me, But I didn't let up. I held her in a bare hug and stumbled out into the front hall. Behind us, Mr. Douglas fell against the doorframe and braced himself against the wall with his bloody stumps. Time slowed as I pulled at the chain of my front door,

red and blue lights flashing in from the front windows. The deadbolt slid and I wrenched the door inwards. Mr. Douglas landed flush against my back as I collapsed into the screen door and spilled out onto my front walkway. It was over in a flash As pearls squirmed from my grasp And something moist and mushy

Pushed into my hair Police already had weapons drawn and aimed I threw myself forward into the unforgiven cement Rolling to the side and covering my head A massive fluff climbed on top of me And before I knew it I was being pulled from the ground by a team of medics I was near hysterics

As they wheeled me into the ambulance It didn't help when I glanced over to the house On the corner only to see their windows speckled from the inside with fresh blood. That was seven months ago now. Nothing has been quite the same since. The street is quieter.

Neighbors are more closed off. I use the money I've been saving for the tree and built myself for privacy vents instead. I don't want to talk about what he did to his family. Honestly, my therapist has heard enough about the details. Not a night goes by where I don't still see as manic-eyed gaze as I close my eyes to sleep.

At least all of them was accounted for. Mr. Douglas, not so much. You see, they only found four of his fingers. They were sticking up out of thin holes in my yard. Most days, I am able to keep myself from drifting off, staring into their empty house. Most days, I don't even think about those six missing fingers. Between a pandemic and the post-traumatic stress,

Pearls spin my lifeline. Neither of us do too well during the storms anymore. But most of the time, her big goofy grin is all that keeps me together. She loves having a yard of her own nowadays. She'd spend all day out there if I let her. Pearl's the one who found it first, poking up out of the ground after the first early spring thaw. A set of bright red leaves shooting up from the dirt. I didn't think much of it when a first quarter digging.

Lord knows I didn't plant anything But it wouldn't be the first time Some seeds had blown in And made it their home If they trusted me to provide for them Well, they'd be sorely mistaken A week later They were nearly knee-high

And it was all I could do to keep the damned Dog's nose out of the dirt Pearl went wild for them Rolling and flopping and barking And barking up a storm I shooed her away And tried to keep an eye on it I made a mental note

to try look up the plant later. As they grew, spindly, black veins sprouted up through the whole of the leaves. Yesterday, I let her out in the morning and stumbled off towards the kitchen to start my day. I'd barely made it to the coffee pot when Pearl went wild, pause banging against the back door

as she whined for my attention. When I peaked out, she squeezed the way back inside, massive red leaves shooting out from either side of her snout. Before I could make sense of it, She was darting around the house, me chasing behind her and grumbling about the impromptu game of Keepaway. Soon she cornered herself in the closet.

I clicked the bedroom door shut behind me to block her escape. The sliding door squealed as I yanked it open and Pearl knew instantly she'd been caught. She spat the weeds of my feet and drove off under the bed. A low, uncharacteristic growl escaped her. With a sigh, I knelt down to collect the mess of dirt and plant matter. to let them fall again with a startled gasp. At the bottom of the pile, dangling off the roots,

was a perfectly preserved human thumb. Pearl took my hesitation as an opening to grab it up again, tucking herself and a wagging tail under the bed as she started to chew. I reached her shaky hand to pull at my curtain. There were three more tufts of red jutting up from the grass. Mr. Douglas planted his feet. fingers in my yard. And now, they're starting to sprout.