CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "My parents made a deal with a demon. We follow its rules" Creepypasta

Episode Date: December 29, 2021

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by No-Ladder91: 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►Jan Drawc: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Nx...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-

Oh, my young, 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 tomorrow. Oh, van Navelle Tournoe. Oh, I'm a moor as I'm just a more on think. Have you it mollick on upgues? Give you self then a boost.

With biocure maxhot liquid. Three opeped plants. Magnesium, Eiser. An energy booster to immediately again to come out. BioCure Maxshot Liquid. Foodingsupplement, forcryg by the apotheker. The little stone figure

Mom kept in a bedside table scared me the first time I saw it. Manlike, but not quite human. It sat holding its knees to its chest and peaked out from behind them with shy eyes and an evil grin. It seemed to have no neck until Mom turned it around to show me its backside.

Its neck was curled up along its spine like a twisted slinky with a head at the end. Dad stood in the corner watching us. When I made a scared face, he ran a reassuring hand at my back. It's okay, son. It won't hurt you. We follow its rules.

I hated looking at it, but every night, Mom told me to kneel down and whisper the prayer that had burned itself into my imagination. All our blood and bones belong to you. Lucky we who know that you are true. We do the things that others would not do. My mom taught me to say these words on my fifth birthday before I could even read or write. I would sit on my knees in a dark room with my hands cut and stare at its open eyes,

which I thought moved sometimes. I used to think it was just the trick of the light. The worship of Z required little from us. Whereas friends went to church and read the Bible, we kept the statue in the dark room and prayed once a day. We had nothing else to do for it. That year, my mom got pregnant with my little brother, and she expressed a gratitude one night by sobbing uncontrollably while praying. I had no idea back then, but Mom had been what the Bible calls, Baron,

and doctor said her pregnancies were miracles. Eight months later, she gave birth to Jay at home, without a nurse and I said my prayers as usual while she cut some of Jay's hair and set it down in front of Z's statue my eyes searched hers for a reason she would do that

but her eyes avoided mine while I prayed I thought Z's eyes were staring at the tuft of baby hair not much changed in our lives except for this addition to our evening prayer every night mom cut some of Jay's hair and sat down with Dad

and me to pray. Jay got older and the ritual went on. My parents loved Jay. Mom often talked about how every day was a gift and we should be grateful because a tragedy could happen at any time. Unlike me growing up, Jay got everything new from the store. He began to be a little spoiled, but never naughty or uncontrollable. He was always happy, smiling, laughing and doing crazy things like dancing on his chair at dinner. Mom would laugh with tears in her eyes. Dad, who had been strict with me, smiled. But I saw his eyes were red.

They always seemed to be crying when they had every reason to be happy. I assumed this was how parents acted with a second child. The difference between my upbringing and Jays became apparent in other ways too. When he learned to say his first words, I asked Mom if she would teach him. him about Zee. But to my surprise, she glared at me and said, You can never tell him about that. Even when he turns five? Even then, she said, and went on folding laundry. After reading Jay to sleep, we all prayed in the room where my parents kept Z's statue behind a locked door. Jay never went inside, no matter how much he asked.

We kneeled down. Mom plays a snippet of Jay's hair before Zee. Then we prayed. All our blood and bones belong to you. Lucky we who know that you are true. We do the things that others would not do. As we reached the final line, Mom dissolved into tears. Dad, kneeling at my side, reached around me to rub her shoulder. It's all right, he whispered.

She shook her head. I'm a terrible mother. I glanced at the statue of Z. with my hands still clasped. Its eyes had settled on her, and its grin looked wider than usual. Finally, we finished our prayers. Dad locked the door, and I went to bed.

Soon, Jay began speaking like a healthy boy's age, and I discovered how a wrinkly-faced baby can slowly become full of personality. Why is mom's hair long? asked Jay. Because she's a girl, I said. I'd never seen her. girl with short hair before. How did it get long? It just grows out and then she cuts it every once in a while. Why doesn't my hair grow out? Because when you go to sleep, mom cuts it for you.

Because it hurts when it gets cutted? No, because... I paused. Because... Because it's easier. Does she cut your hair when you sleep too? Yes. Does she cut that's hair? Yes, she cuts all of our hair. Now stop asking questions. Our parents started planning a huge party for Jay's fifth birthday. All of his parties had been extravagant to the point of excess. This one was supposed to be even more elaborate, but mum seemed less and less happy as the birthday got closer.

She lived on the verge of tears and had to force herself to smile. Dad had red, moist eyes whenever Jay hugged or kissed him. They would spend an hour reading to him each night. I didn't share a bedroom with Jay, but our bathroom was connected. If I left the doors open, I could listen to their voices. One night, Mom told him an unusual story. Don't you need a book? No, this one's all in my head, said Mom.

I listened from my desk while I sat drawing. Once upon a time, there was a true. train driver. He had a very difficult job. He had to drive the train and keep all the passengers safe. He drove the train for many years and never had any problems. But one day, something terrible happened. I heard Jay ask, is this a scary story? Yes, it's a little scary, but I think you should hear it. Okay. Mom went on. The terrible thing that happened was that someone was tied up on the tracks, like in those old western films. Do you know what I'm talking about?

Silence or Jay probably nodded. Well, an innocent townsperson was tied up on the tracks. The train driver would have to pull a lever to change course, and he had enough time to do it. But then he found there was another problem. The other track had three people tied up on it. Couldn't he stop the train? No, the train can't stop in time. It takes too long.

He just had enough time to decide if he'll pull the lever or not. And if he pulls it, three people die? Right, only one person dies if he doesn't pull it. I don't like this story. I don't like it either. Let's do a different one. I know it's scary, Jay, but it's important. I want to know what you would do.

I don't like thinking about it. I feel the same way. Can we read rabbits' make soup instead? His voice had a slight whine to it. I'll read it after you give me your answer. I promise. In my mind, the right thing to do seemed obvious. Don't pull the lever and save the three people.

But it didn't have the normal feeling of the right thing. It should be right no matter what, but this wasn't. I'd never heard a story like that. I think I know what to do, whispered Jay, but it still feels wrong. Yeah, I know what you mean. I think most people would agree with you. It feels sad for the boy who needs to die for the other three. Yes, it's still sad for him.

Three people live if he dies though. What about his parents? They'll be devastated, but they'll feel proud to know that their little boy saved the lives of three other people. There was a long silence until mum said, Sometimes the right thing to do isn't the right thing for everybody. You just have to pick the rightest one. Jay had trouble sleeping that night, as one might expect. My parents stayed with him until past midnight.

When at last he fell asleep, Dad fetched me for the prayers. I had needed to stay awake for them. Sorry to keep you so late, he said, but you know it's important. Dad unlocked the room and we kneeled down in the light of the candle, saying the words that we always said to the thing with a moving eyes. Mom put Jay's hair down in front of it. That night, she looked resigned as she whispered.

All our blood and bones belong to you. lucky we who know that you are true we do the things that others would not do Jay's fifth birthday approached and began hearing noises downstairs around that time they came from the locked room and started after mom and dad fell asleep something paced back and forth inside

I heard it from the top of the staircase where I stood listening and wondering if I should wake up my parents Eventually, the noises would stop, and I would go to bed. Lying awake, I began to imagine the statue of Zee, with its clasped knees, searching eyes and thieving smile. I imagined its long, ribbed neck, like a third arm with a head on top, slowly unraveling itself and probing forward snake-like. I wonder if Mom heard Z, or whatever it was, moving in the locked room too, because, she cried harder than usual during our prayers. Mom, we can stop doing this if you don't like it, I whispered.

Dad locked the door as Mom and I stood waiting in the dark. Red numbers from a digital clock on the stove colored the downstairs crimson. Do you know why we do what we do? she asked. I shook my head. It's all for you, she whispered. All of this is for you. you and you only. But what about Jay? I asked.

I felt something hard and painful in my throat. We love Jay, but we don't do this for him, she said. I looked at Dad, confused. Promise us that whatever happens, you won't tell anybody. Why? He took a deep breath. Because, son, we would make it more. I glanced over my shoulder at the locked room and felt the hairs all over my body rising.

We made a promise long ago, and we need to keep that promise, whispered Dad. What promise? A fourth voice asked. It had come from the staircase. Jay stood near the top, crouching down to see us. What promise? He asked again. Can I know?

Go to bed, honey, said Mom in a smiling voice. We're just promising that we'll all go to sleep earlier from now on. Really? asked Jay. Isn't that right, son? asked Dad. I nodded. Let's go back to bed, said Mom, sheep holding Jay to his bedroom. The next morning during breakfast, Jay asked again why we had been standing together in the darkness last night. Did you dream that? asked Mom, not looking up from the eggs in the frying pan. No, said Jay, I saw you. I think you just had a strange dream.

Mom served us the eggs, still not looking at either of us. I just stared into my plate. Just a dream, Mom said again, starting to wash the pan. The last night I ever saw my brother, the thing making the thing, making the thing. noises in a locked room came out. It happened on Jay's fifth birthday. I think we threw the biggest party any boy's age had ever had. It shocked me to see the lengths to which my parents had gone, all while trying not to cry.

Mom burst into tears in front of all the guests several times. She had just handed Jay a gift when the tears started pouring down the face. Jay stared in confusion, not sure if he should open the gift or not. My aunt asked if Mom needed anything. They just grew up so fast, you know, Mom said, wiping a face. Jay went to sleep that night in an ecstasy of gift getting. He was probably the happiest kid alive. I think my parents intended that to be the case from the beginning.

It was supposed to make them feel better. about what happened next. Mom cried hysterically through our prayers after Jay fell asleep and went on crying in bed until late. Sometime around three o'clock I heard the thing moving around downstairs in the locked room. I crept out of bed to peek from the top stair and saw the handle of the room jiggling. It popped open and in the red glow of the clock

I thought I saw a floating black snake, moving slowly through the air and into the kitchen. Except this snake had something like a human's head on the end. It leapt away from the staircase, ran to my room and jumped into bed. But for a long time I heard nothing. All I could hear was my own breathing, and I struggled to keep quiet. The staircase began to groan. It seemed to take hours to reach. the second floor. Mom was crying across the hall in a bedroom. Dad yelled out to me.

Stay in your room, son. Do not come out. The thing reached my door and paused. I heard the handle turning, but I kept my head under the blankets, shaking and dripping sweat. With my closed eyes, I heard it lurching toward the front of my bed. I felt a gentle pressure on the blankets covering my feet. Something began slithering of the bed, searching in the blanket folds. It sniffed like a wild animal chasing a scent.

Something wet and warm even brushed against my thigh. But the entity just kept searching and sniffing all the way to the back of my head beside my ear. And this time, I heard and felt the sniffing. Hot breath filled my left ear.

Its cheek rubbed against the side of my face, its nose took a deep whiff for my hair. It seemed to be waiting, unsure of something. Then it slowly pulled away, and I thought of Z's head being dragged backward across my bed by its coiling neck. Finally, I heard it walking out. I stayed under the covers. Gone or not gone, I refused the check either way.

But I kept listening. Footsteps in the hallway. advanced towards Jay's door and stopped again. He must have been awake. Because he screamed. Jay slept with his door open and would have seen Z standing in the doorway. First would have come Z's head, peeking around the corner. It would have hovered into the room, supported by its rope of neck. The body would have come next, hunched forward, hands reaching out and grasping. Jay cried out for Mom first I could hear him through the connecting bathroom

It went on and on Nobody came He tried calling Dad Dad didn't come He tried calling me Finally dad's voice broke through If we don't give it what it wants It'll kill us instead

Do you understand it will kill us Instead of running to help I did something unforgivable. I shut the bathroom door connecting our rooms. The screams grew muffled and I got back into bed, pulled the blankets over me and shut my eyes. Not long after the screams stopped. At some point I think I heard the thing moving back down the hallway and stairs,

closing the door behind it. I stayed awake until morning, clenching my fists, sweating in the hot air below the blanket. I only stuck out my head when I heard birds singing and took a breath of air, sunshine on my face. Mom didn't leave a room that day. Dad cooked for me and we ate in silence.

I never checked my brother's room. I didn't want to know what happened. After sunset, Mom came downstairs. We needed to pray. We kneeled down in front of the statue with my brother's hair still in front of it and said what we always said All our blood and bones belong to you Lucky we who know that you are true We do the things that others would not do

Coming out of the room Dad locked the door and mom put a hand on my shoulder Looking me straight in the eyes Do you understand now? This was all for you. I said nothing. You could never stop praying, said Dad, understand. And neither will we.