CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "My neighbour worked in Ғылыми қондырғы. I have heard his confession" Creepypasta

Episode Date: December 24, 2021

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The winters are brutal here. Even though I live in the city, just about every night, someone freezes the death. A good chunk of those throwing boiling water and watching it freeze videos are from here. Even if the sun is out, it still hurts to breathe. When the sun goes down, it hurts to exist. As soon as it gets dark, Fahrenheit and Celsius slam into each other in a horrid marriage of minus 40 degrees. The air turns into crystallized pain No one walks slowly after sundown

He was staring at the rusty wheelchair ramp of my housing block Shivering beneath a pile of rags I had forgotten one of my gloves at work And the overfilled plastic bags I was carrying Were cutting into my swollen hands I was worried about losing my fingers But I knew I couldn't live with myself If I let an old man freeze to death

Hi, Mr. I don't think we've met. I'm Alexei. Can I help you up this ramp? Stay away. I have nothing to give you. Oh, I don't want anything from you, Mr. We'd just hate to see a new neighbour freeze the death. So, how about it? Can I help you up this ramp? No response. Too proud to ask for help. Yet, when I grab the handles of his wheelchair, he didn't resist. He just grumbled. I'm pretty apt with wheelchairs and strollers, and it wasn't the first time that I forgot my gloves at work, but pushing the old man up the ramp was harder than it should have been. While we waited for the elevator to come, I made a quick note to talk to the building manager about the rusty ramp.

Which floor will it be, mister? Out of his rags, the man produced a crumbled piece of stained paper. He tried to make sense of the handwriting. Ah, floor seven, looks like we're neighbours. Yes, seventh floor. The elevator creaked and groaned with his usual strains and dragged us up towards the roof of the complex. With the stinging pain fading from my eyes, I got a chance to look at the stranger. White air with a consistency of spider web, skin and bone and stubble, a discomforting amount of swelling over his right eye.

So, Mr. New Neighbor, are you around these parts? No. Are you from here? No. I'm born and raised right here in this winter wonderland. Quick tip, don't ever turn that radiator knob lower than the maximum. It's a nice little home that we have here, but the heating system is back from the Soviet days. Tends the leak as soon as you tamper with it. And boy, oh boy, are those things no fun to fix?

No response. I was used toward folks being suspicious and quiet, but from my experience, once you talk for a bit, they tend to open up. My new neighbour wasn't like the other old-timers I've met. All that kept us company for the elevator ride was the choking and coughing of metal. Here we are, seventh floor. He passed me the keys. They were covered in rust, but they fit the door.

A stove, a bed, a window. the bare minimum for survival. All the Soviet-built housing projects have a sort of melancholy about them. But there was something especially desperate about that cramped room. An aura of dread and mildew flowed through the air. Then again, there could have just been the old man. As soon as I opened the door, my new neighbour wheeled himself to the window. Well, like I said before, my name is Alexei. Nice to meet you.

The old man didn't turn away from the window Outside the world was still Nothing but a collection of snow-covered panel housing And flickering lamplight I work in a supermarket And they let me take food that's past its due date There's nothing wrong with the food Just can't be sold

We'd be a shame to see it goes away So I bring it back to the folk over here Quite a big hall today What are beans? Was you like I have nothing to give in return leave me, I've not come here to make friends. I've come here to die. I left the man two cans of beans on the stove.

The weather was significantly kinder in the morning. Having a day out from work, I went to talk to the building manager about the ramp. We still had to wear scarves around our faces, but the icicles on the railing was starting to melt. As we cleared the ramp, we spoke of spring. Above my unit lives a single mother with a particularly noisy yet adorable infant.

When she saw the newly cleaned ramp, she was ecstatic. All of a sudden, the daily struggle of getting the carriage inside of the apartment complex was gone. It felt nice to know I'd managed to improve her life, if only just a little bit. Yet, she was not the neighbour who I was most concerned about. The mailbox for the Allman's Unit didn't have a name on it. Neither did his door. When I rang the doorbell, there was no answer. I pressed down on the bell for a bit, just in case the old man's hearing was bad.

After about 30 seconds, he acknowledged me. If you're here to rob me, I have nothing. Not here to rob you, mister. It's me, Alexi, your neighbour. I've brought you more food. No response, but the door wasn't locked. He sat facing his window, just where I'd left. him. The cans of beans, however, were empty.

Me and the building manager clean the ramp. Should have no troubles going up and down on your own. If you ever want company for a walk, though, I'd be more than happy to join you. Why? Walks of strangers are pretty fun. The neighbourhood is a lot of concrete, but I think it has a certain charm to it. There's an abandoned hotel nearby where students get together and play jazz from time to time. Once it warms up, I'll be happy to take...

Why do you help me? A dread. that sense of discomfort was still in the air but it wasn't as prominent as the evening prior with the sun shining and the laughter of children echoing from the housing projects the world seemed a bit more welcoming why do I help you

because it's the right thing to do God knows we have to help each other there's a cold world out there an aspiring saint helping those in need makes you feel powerful and makes you feel special I don't think I'm special, mister. I'd just like to help.

I think most people are like that. His wheelchair creaked like nails and a chalkboard as he turned around to face me. His uncle eyes regarded me as if I were a maniac. Something had changed in his face from the day prior, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

Most people want to help. Are you truly so naive as to believe in the goodness of mankind? What are the wars, what of the orchestrated famines, one of the men who forced May Day parades through clouds of radiation. I shrugged.

I try not to think about that. Don't see much of a point in it, mister. The Soviets are in the past. If we all work together, we can build a better world. The swelling that once existed beneath his right eye and now moved to the left, leaving behind dark, diseased skin. If you would have witnessed what I've witnessed,

you would know how foolish you sound right now. All your thoughts of human, and goodness and charity dissipates in the face of reality. Man cannot rule over man. Staying in power requires an iron grip, and that grip, that cursed strangle of rule, will squeeze any semblance of humanity out of the ruler. If you would have seen what I've seen,

you would know that no amount of charity can save us. What have you seen, Mr. Markarov, Dr. Konstantin Markarov. The swelling around his left eye pulsed, causing him to grit his remaining teeth. The man had introduced himself as a doctor, but he clearly needed to go to the hospital. I was about to offer to take him to the nearby clinic, but before I had a chance to offer my help,

he spoke once more. I have seen unspeakable horrors processed through flawed human systems. I've seen good men fall into despair in the face of this horrid reality that swirls beneath a side of stability. My name is Constantine Mark. And I've worked. The children outside went silent.

The lights in the apartment flickered in the same way they did before the blackouts of the 90s. The swollen flesh and Marker's face throbbed as if it was trying to reach past his skin. My name is Constantine Markov and I have worked as the chief scientist in Ilionandiri. Saying the words clearly drained the man.

Yet for all the weaknesses in his voice the throbbing of swollen flesh in his forehead strengthened. With each shivering pulse, it seemed as if the infected skin was about to force his way out of its skull. I immediately grew worried for the old man. Dr. Markrov, your face, may I take you to the clinic? I have a friend there. I'm sure he would happily inspect you for free. The growth on your face looks, no. The rapid heartbeat and the old man's face died down. With a screech of rusted iron, he turned back around to the window. Down below, the navel the The neighbourhood children were riding old plastic bags down a snowy hill.

Please, just leave me be. I've not come here to be a charity case. I've come here to die. I thought of saying something, but I didn't. Instead, I just left the man another can of beans in the stove. The structure was said to be hidden in the forest that neighboured our housing projects. In educated circles, the structure was known as the building, formerly known as a United People's Institution of Science.

around campfires and the village pubs, it was known as Illignoindarie. When I was young, my uncle used to tell us stories about it. He described the place as an old Soviet science facility that dabbled in knowledge beyond the scope of human understanding. He spoke monsters and curses and forbidden knowledge. I listened to his stories in rapt attention, but even as a child, I considered them to be fiction. As an adult, I considered it to be the byproduct of our collective imagination, a way to explain away the 60 years of harsh Soviet rule. After talking to Markov, I wasn't so sure. The man was old, but he was not mad.

Elin Yonderry existed and he worked within his confines at some point. That was not what kept sleep away from me that night. It was the old man's eyes that convinced me that not only was that place real, but that, at least some of the stories I heard about it, were true. There was no doubt in my mind that Markov had seen something unearthly in his previous work. The whole night through, all I could think of was that throbbing mass of flesh stemming from his skull. I spent most of my morning thinking about it too. I tried to figure out the source of the injuries,

the way that something so discomforting could manifest. Yet all I found was pained empathy. Thoughts of swollen flesh followed me to my morning shift, where they metastasized into a burning migraine. By the time I got back home, I could barely think straight. I put aside the leftover groceries for later and settled down on the couch for a nap. I thought that after a bit of rest,

I could go hand out the leftover food and check and mark it of. yet sleep refused to come. Instead, I laid on the couch with stinging pain in my head and nausea rolling around in my stomach. There was tenseness in the air, like the kind that festeres up when a fight is about to happen. I lay there, sick and anticipating something I couldn't put my finger on. I came to the door before I had a chance to press the buzzer twice. Markov's strange growth had shifted once more. Now, he was sitting in between his eyes,

making his face look like a highwayman mask made of bruises. Alexi, I'm not long for this world. I appreciate your help throughout my short time here, but there was one more favour I could ask of you. Seeing the poor brown man dragged all of my attention away from the migraine. Of course, Dr. Markov, how can I be of help? Take me to the roof. The roof?

I don't think it's very safe there. You could easily... He looked sicker than before. Much sicker than before. A reason for why he would want to take me to the roof immediately struck me. I'm not looking to jump if that's what you're thinking. No, Alexie.

I merely want to see the sunset one last time. I fear my body will not make it through the night. I can take it to the ground. clinic, surely they can help you there. I much more qualify than any doctor at any clinic in this provincial town. I know the nature of my injuries and I've made peace with them. Now please, neighbor, would you help me make my way to the roof? Beyond us stretched an infinitely repeating collection of cement coliseums. Below us in the center of each of the circular panel houses, children played. The laughter echoed below us, a reminder of joy in a sea of brutalist archivaled.

architecture. See, Doctor, doesn't the neighbourhood have a charm about it? The old man was completely deaf to my attempts at Smalltalk. He just stared into the steadily reddening sky, lost in his own thoughts. I've been part of something horrible. What do you mean, Doctor? I've been part of something horrible, and for decades I've stayed silent. I believe that what I did was for the greater good

I believed my work at the facility would usher in a new era of humanity. I believed that what I partook in was a necessary evil. But now that I sit here, now that all is done, I always had doubts. On a primal level, I knew that I was doing something wrong.

But I've always denied myself the clarity of thought. I... The mass of flesh beneath his forehead started to pulse harder than it ever had before. Even past his bruises, the old man's skin was turning the colour of the setting sun. The growth on his forehead was completely foreign to me, but the look in his eyes was familiar.

In my younger years, I volunteered at a hospice. Constantine Markov had the same look in his eyes of the soldiers brought back from the war. He had done something horrid and needed a chance to confess. I would not rob him of that right. What have you done? Dr. Markarov. A sharp wind drowned out the children below.

The light started to seep out of the sky. With each moment that passed, the mass of flesh in Markov's forehead grew more frenzied. The old man's speech came through choked gasps, yet he refused to give up. Parasite. When I worked at the United People's Institute of Science, I was tasked with the study of a parasite found in the nearby step. profoundly fascinating organism capable of communication with other members of its species across the world indestructible highly intelligent physically decentralized

the more the organism grew the closer it was to its descendants the more dangerous it became yet the scientific potential of this organism was limitless I kept on telling myself all that was needed was more research I kept on telling myself that the parasite's potential could be harnessed for the good of humanity The pursuit of knowledge blinded me

It made me skip safety protocols It made me reckless With my own flesh The Soviets were not the only superpower in possession of the parasite Across the iron curtain A certain Dr. Groves was enlisted By the Americans to study the

We communicated He I Markrab's entire body had flared up with a red pulse of flesh. Post of steam rose like a boiling kettle from beneath his scarf. Take a time, doctor. Take a deep breath. I'm here to listen without judgment.

Tell me what you need to get off your shoulders. With a deep, shivering groan, he continued. Chaos. When the satellite state started to fight for their independence, when the walls started to crumble, there was chaos. Gross and me used this chaos to transform. support the Western breed of the organism. The Soviet Union was doomed to fail.

The People's Institute of Science was doomed to fail. Yet, with a Western breed of the organism, all of that would be irrelevant. The day the package arrived, the day the two halves combined into a greater hole. That was the end of the United People's Institute

of Science. That was the day Elenionderi was born. For years, research continued under my... The parasites leadership. We were making progress. We were gaining valuable information for the good of mankind, but... The military. They left us alone for years. But once they realized the power that we held, I sacrificed my body to science. I sacrificed my body to the parasite to keep the institutes safe. The military incursion was taken care of quickly. They stood no match against. They were not prepared.

They couldn't be. But... My body, the parasite. It refused to give back control. It used me to feed. Above us, the stars painted a chaotic galaxy. The streets had gone silent. It was far too cold to be outside. Even past my thick gloves, I could feel my fingers going numb.

Yet I knew that the shaking man in the wheelchair needed to speak. It used me. It used me to hunt, to feel. speed, to grow, to spread. Dr. Markroff, you're shaking. It's freezing. Please, let me take you to the clinic. Or, if not that, let me at least take you back downstairs. You're not well.

You can leave if you need to, but I cannot go yet. It hasn't happened yet. What hasn't happened? The organism. It grew inside of me. It fed and killed and grew. And when my body could no longer hold it. It spread

Where did it spread to? The old man didn't respond He simply sighed The throbbing beneath his flesh Was starting to calm The lock of tortured guilt in his eyes Simmered down to resigned acceptance Alexi

Do you truly believe in the goodness of mankind Yes He sat in silence His skin grown paler by the second I guess it doesn't matter anymore. What's done is done. Thank you for all of your help. May you one day find forgiveness in your heart for what I have done.

We all make mistakes, Dr. Markov. It's part of being human. Everyone deserves forgiveness. I don't. An explosion cracked the silent night in half. The housing projects lit up in the twin flames of rockets rising in front of the forest. The projectiles moved with dizzying speed towards the sky, as freezing as it was outside, a flurry of windows opened beneath us to see what was happening.

Did those rockets come from the facility? The old man did not respond. He simply watched. Even past the disease bruising on his face, I could see tears gathering at the edges of his eyes. The parasite spread throughout my body until it could be contained no way. more. Now it will spread much further. The rockets flew higher and higher, making their incursion on the starry sky. It wasn't until the sound of the thrusters had completely disappeared

that they changed their trajectory. Each went in a different direction, drawing a line of white smoke through the black sky, growing smaller and smaller until, poof. Two tiny silent explosions in the sky, rained down bits of fiery debris all over the earth. Dr. Markrov, is that where the parasite spread, to the rockets? The old man did not reply. He was no longer shivering. His skin was bloodless. Dr. Markov?

His eyes were still dripping tears and knocking at the sky. Yet the man wasn't breathing. I took off my glove, whilled as much warmth into my fist. fingers as I could, and slid them behind the old man's scarf. My fingers were numb, but the lack of a pulse was clear. The old man was dead, yet, just as I was about to pull my hand away from his corpse. I felt something. Up through his neck.

Something moved. Something squirmed. Something was making his way up towards his jaw. Markov's head dropped to the side. his lips parted and something horrible slid out my fingers shook so much

that it took me a couple of tries to dial the hospital when the men finally arrived to retrieve the body I let them into the apartment complex but I refused to go with him to the roof I couldn't stand to look at Constantine Markraft's shell of a body again

it reminded me far too much of what dwelt inside of it A horrible mess of arteries and blood and muscle It crawled out of his lips And dragged itself to the edge of the roof I fear that the things survive the fall That it still lingers somewhere in the bushes below That it is waiting for another victim

Somewhere in this housing projects The image of that monstrosity of flesh crawling through the places where the children play haunts me Yet there is another image which cuts my sanity much more. Somewhere in the stratosphere, two giant rockets carrying a horrible load,

exploding. The thought of that flesh raining down on our earth of Markov's experiment being sewn across the planet without warning. That is what truly haunts me.