CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "New Neighbor" Creepypasta

Episode Date: September 22, 2020

It must be fun to move into a new neighborhood. CREEPYPASTA STORY►by PhantomPen: 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►Marc DA CUNHA LOPESSUGGESTED 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-

As a preface, when my wife and I first moved into our new town home, we were surprised to find somebody already living across from us. We've been told we were the first to move into the newly built community, and, for sale signs, still stood in front of every home but ours, and the one directly across from us. The neighbour himself was nice enough. He was a curious man, perhaps mid-40s, with some receding hair and cleanly-shaven face.

He dressed in two-sized two large coloured shirts and dress pants that were so heavily starched They seemed to always hang around his thin frame There were many small auditors about him aside from his clothes But when we first met him I was relieved to have such a friendly Or albeit talkative first neighbour When we met him on our first day at the new home

While I unloaded boxes from the small rental box truck And my wife moved everything where it needed to be once in size We met him on our first day at the new home, while I was unloading boxes from the small rental box truck and my wife moved everything where it needed to be once inside. We had moved from a smaller apartment complex and since we didn't have much to pack, the moving was thankfully easy enough for the two of us to handle on our own. The neighbour made his first appearance towards the end of the day when I was unloading the last of the boxes into the driveway.

I stopped to take a break and heard the door across the street closed. I looked over to see our new neighbour waving as he came across the talk. He made a friendly first impression. We talked a little about the neighbourhood and the construction and soon my wife came out to meet him as well. He introduced himself as Andrew and told us he had just moved in as well and was glad to already have neighbours. We spent most of the conversation

answering questions about ourselves, where we had lived, our jobs, if we had family in the area, and so on and so forth. I should mention that to me, this was all rather casually brought up and the conversation was quite normal. Since the sun was about to set

and we still had boxes to move, I mentioned as much to him and we parted in a friendly way. As soon as he was gone, my wife started remarking how strange he was. To be frank, she's just, always been the overly careful type, to the point that I'm the only one who answers the door,

and so with this well in mind, I listened as she listed off the things that struck her as strange. She noted he constantly used the word neighbour, which admittedly he did. His clothing, the way he asked so many questions, and that he seemed to not have a car, which was true, his one car driveway was empty, and we couldn't see one parked anywhere nearby. She also mentioned how he seemed to hesitate and think for a moment before he gave us his name. If this had happened, I couldn't recall it and chalked it up to a usual suspicious attitude. I reassured her that even if he was a bit odd, he was friendly and seemed harmless, and he was also our first and only neighbour.

I don't think we mentioned Andrew again and continued to unpack. We returned to the truck. after dark and upon arriving home we promptly went to bed in our sparsely furnished new home. Neither of us worked the next day and we made another early start on packing. We ended up finishing before lunch and as we made plans to go shopping for some necessities such as trash bags and cleaning supplies, there was a knock on the door. Andrew greeted us with his same friendly smile and handed us a simple store-bought sheetcake as a housewarming gift. We invited him in and had a rather pleasant talk. This time I did notice his questions.

He was like a child in his curiosity regarding every little thing in our home, and while at first we happily entertained him while sharing slices of his cake, soon it had turned into more of a home tour. Everything was a wonder to him. Every knick-knack, item and book on our shelves was worthy of praise to him. My wife, obviously annoyed, soon pulled me aside and made it clear that it was time for Andrew to be on his way. So, after some more small pleasantries, I sent Andrew away, claiming we still had more to unpack, refused his help and he left with a smile. I'll admit that while our new neighbour was certainly a bit off, it appeared to me he was in fact trying his best to be a nice neighbor, and I reason this with my wife.

She made the fair argument that he was creepy, and while I could see her point of view, I still found no reason to dislike him. The next day, however, I began to see things from her side. Andrew showed up at noon, bearing another store-bought sheetcake and a pleasant smile. As awkward as this moment was, and much to the dismay of my wife, I invited him inside again. This time as I served, some of the prior days cake, I made sure to impress upon our good neighbour that I had some errands to do. This ended up becoming a tedious mistake as Andrew was eager to know of my errands, offering to lend me any tools or items I needed and so on.

Eventually I had to wonder if this over-the-top display of constant helpfulness and interest was some kind of elaborate prank or hazing. But, seeing the genuine smile and Andrew's face and his keen interest in my plans to buy milk. It seemed worryingly genuine. My wife had made some manner of excuse to leave us and I began trying to ask Andrews some questions about himself. I say try because I rarely got a clear answer. With each question his smile will give the briefest flicker as he paused before giving his answer. I soon gave up on this fruitless effort and the remainder of of his visit was spent, answering questions about everything from our kitchen appliances to our

extended family. When I saw Andrew out, with some gentle verbal prodding, I was ready to admit it. Andrew came off as creepy, or at the very least, annoying. Reflecting on this though, I realised, perhaps he hadn't had much luck with friends until now, and his keen interest in us was likely a result in what he saw as an opportunity for a genuine friendship or naibly companionship. When we went to bed, my wife spoke plainly what was on both of our minds, that if Andrew showed up with a cake tomorrow, he wasn't to be invited in. Sure enough, at noon, Andrew arrived with an identical store-bought sheet cake and smile. This time I met him outside, and I explained as politely as I could that we were well-stucked

on cake and that he didn't need to bring a gift to us each day, or at all. I also explained that we were quite tired and unable to have him over every day. I expected this to upset him, but he took it in stride, politely nodding and smiling. He told me he understood, and we spoke outside for a while about random things. One thing we disagreed upon was the eventual moving in of other neighbours. This topic seemed to dampen his mood the slightest bit and he seemed convinced no one or at least very few people would be interested in the homes nearby.

When pressed, he cited strange reasons such as soil quality for our small lawns or the way the sun would hit the windows and so on. I didn't press him on this matter, but eventually when I dragged the endless conversations to the close I realised he was perfectly happy to simply stand there outside with me, smiling all the while. I made an excuse about checking on the wife

and mentioned in what I hoped was a not very subtle hint that if I saw him outside in the future I'd be sure to say hello. That night when my wife complained about our neighbour I joined her in venting. While he seemed nice and well-meaning he was exhausting to be around.

She did mention that we would both be going back to work tomorrow and so there was no worry of Andrew's noontime visit and I think I slept better with that thought in my head. When my wife left for work at 6am, the noise woke me and I began a slow and easy morning, enjoy my coffee and the openness of the new house before I had to leave for work at 8. Eventually, when I did leave,

I was greeted by none other than our neighbour Andrew, outside of his home, seemingly wondering about his driveway with a cup of coffee. He noticed me immediately and gave a hearty wave and a smile and made its way across the street to me. Internally, I groaned, but outwardly I put on the best smile I could

and we talked briefly before I mentioned I was off to work. He wished me a good day and still smiling, went back to his driveway and waved and watched me drive off. I watched him in my rearview mirror and even when I was a ways

down the main road, I saw him faintly in the distance at the corner near his house, watching. That was unnerving. Work went fine, but as it ended, I began to dread the trip home. Sure enough, when I pulled into my driveway,

Andrew waved and made his way towards me, but I stopped him with a brief and not as polite explanation that I was too tired to talk today and went inside. When my wife arrived home, I noticed from the window that she simply ignored, ignored him and came inside. She immediately explained how our dear neighbor had been outside at 6 a.m. in his crisp clothes

enjoying a cup of coffee and the pre-sunshine gloom. She told me she was done being polite with him, and we agreed to set boundaries. Perhaps Andrew understood for my wife's actions alone, but he no longer bothered her. Instead, he redoubled his efforts to me, though thankfully after several days of using exhaustion as an excuse, he only talked to me in the morning, or when I was on my way out the house. Understand that until this point, while Andrew was definitely creepy and certainly annoying, I did not share my wife's hate for him. This changed one morning, perhaps a week and a half after we moved in.

Andrew had mentioned to me in our brief morning chat how he had seen a stray cat in the neighbourhood. I noted I had seen it as well, a feral-looking orange tabby. I jokingly said that hopefully it wouldn't be around for too long, as my wife was allergic, and for the first time since I had met him, I saw Andrew's smile vanish from his face. Instead, he was utterly shocked. He asked me how severe her allergies were, how they affected her, so on and so forth. He acted as though I had revealed my wife had some fatal disease. I assured him she was fine, and there was no need for alarm.

But when I left for work shortly after, I could see he was still upset. The rest of the day passed by normal, but the next morning I was roughly shaken awake by my wife just before 6 a.m. There's a dead cat on our doorstep, she said. I got up and followed her, and even in my tired, groggy state, I made the connection to Andrew. When she opened the door to show me, sure enough, there was the feral tabby. laid evenly on our front step. His neck twisted at an unnatural angle. I think she realized the cause before I explained it to her.

But I went over the conversation I had with Andrew the morning before, and she was furious. She swore to call the police on him, told me we would get a restraining order, went on about how she always knew he was deranged, and it was all like I'd do to get her into her car and after work before she was late. As carefully as I could, and with a heavy conscious

I placed a dead cat in a garbage bag and gently laid it in our outdoor garbage can I spent the rest of the morning anticipating how I would speak to Andrew when I saw him and I went outside a few minutes early to meet him he hadn't been outside but he came out immediately after I moved to go down our front steps it was almost surreal seeing him

gingerly walk across the street cup in hand with a big smile on his face before he reached my side of the street I said it You killed the cat He beamed at me The smile got wider And the pride appeared plain on his face

I was stunned He truly thought he had done a good deed It was nauseating I had been kind and polite And patient with this man But no longer I was angry. I told him that was unacceptable,

that it was wrong and sick to kill a poor animal like that. I told him to stay away from us and our home and to get help. Andrew was struck, stone still in the street. Mouth a gape. He stared at me. Furious as I was, I watched him, unsure how he would react, but too angry to care. His shock turned to concern.

He seemed to have. hurt. Then panic seemed to creep up his face. His eyes widened, and when he did speak, it was almost a whisper. Oh no, he said, and took a step towards me. She didn't touch it, did she? I hadn't thought of that, and I left it right on the doorstep. He came to me and dropped his mug. It tumbled into the grass, spilling cold coffee. He took my hand in his, his lanky frame bending before me, making him seem smaller, honest and true pleading in his watering eyes. I'm so, so sorry, I didn't realize, please, if there's anything I can do. I snapped my hand out of his grasp.

I was shot. He truly didn't grasp killing the cat as the bad thing he had done. The entire situation was beyond him. You're sick, I said. Stay away from us. I turned from him and went back into the street When I left a few minutes later for work His cup was gone

There was no trace from him And his house remained dark and unlit as always He made no further appearance that afternoon either My wife was overjoyed And I'll admit it I was a bit relieved At times I did feel bad for how I'd snapped at him but those feelings instantly vanished

when I remember the poor cat cold on a doorstep that morning I was glad to have him out of our lives for a week we saw no sign of him but occasionally I would see the window blinds faintly shift when I went outside and I was sure he was still there watching us

luckily the four sale signs had been taken down from the nearby houses and we at least expected to get some other new neighbours soon I felt a bit bad thinking about it but perhaps having other neighbours would help draw his attention from us perhaps a week later with still no sign of Andrew I noticed the books in my downstairs bookshelf

had been rearranged there were in no particular order before but now they went from smallest the largest for some reason when I asked my wife about this she said she hadn't done it and thought I had when we realised neither of us was joking

she immediately blamed Andrew I don't know how he got in here she said but it had to be him I'd admit part of me thought the same thing but in an effort to comfort her and myself I pointed out how we had changed the locks on the doors and how the windows were always locked

and there was no sense in someone coming in to rearrange my books etc we talked about it at length and we both calm down but we resolved to order a security camera and change the locks again the following few days we each began to notice

other small things around the house and I'll admit we started to jump at shadows the day after the books I noticed our front door no longer creaked my wife said she smelt disinfectant which she came home as embarrassing as it is

since I left for work last and came home first I began to stick a very small piece of paper near the bottom of the doorway so that if someone came in it would fall unnoticed to the ground. There were other small things, a chair being slightly moved or our wall clock no longer being a minute slow. But the biggest was perhaps our bedroom attic. On the third floor in our bedroom,

above the small gap between our bed and my wife's dresser, was a flat panel that lowered and led into an attic crawl space. I'd briefly looked around it when we moved in, simply poking my head in and noting the dust, insulation and nothingness before closing it back up. We stored nothing in there, and it was for this reason that my wife noticed it was just ever so slightly askew. It's worth mentioning that she noticed this at night when we were laying in bed, and neither of us felt very motivated to try to close it.

To make it feel better, I did awkwardly stand in a box full of clothes and try to close it. but it seemed to be stuck, just hanging open barely a centimetre. I told her I will try to fix it tomorrow and we went to bed. It had been another thing on a long list of oddities that afflicted us and the terror had waned. The two of us treated Andrew like a ghost almost, using him as a curse when something fell or spilled. The next day the security camera arrived in the morning and my wife nudged me awake. handing the box to me with clear instructions that they should be set up today. After work she went, and so, blearily, I unboxed the camera,

finding it was actually four rather small and rather complex cameras. I spent much of my morning mulling over the instruction manual, installing the cameras app on my phone, and, after rummaging up batteries, I placed one in the bedroom on our bedframe at the head of our bed, looking in towards the room. One went into the stairwell on the second floor, floor and another in the kitchen, pacing out the front doorway.

The last one I placed outside, precariously balanced on the light above our front door. I made a mental note to affix it properly later, but I was nearly late for work and so I left. When I arrived home, I had completely forgotten about the cameras until I noticed the one I had placed above our door had fallen into the mulch by the side of the driveway. I attributed it to the wind and my mind was at ease when I unlocked the front door and saw my piece of paper

gently fall to the floor. It had been undisturbed. No one had entered our home. I went up to the bedroom and as I changed out of my work clothes I noticed the attic cross-space panel was still slightly ajar. I resolved myself to go get the step-ladder

from downstairs and fix it. But as I sat in the bed the weight of the past week really washed over me. I was mentally exhausted. We had become consumed by the constant worry of Andrew. Then we were racked by anxiety. Every day turned into a spot the floor in our home. What had changed today?

What was wrong today? Was our neighbour peaking through the blind at us every waking moment? I felt like a fool. Even that very morning, I had stumbled around in the dark place in camp. cameras, wedging paper into my doorway like a madman. And for what? To catch someone who had no way of getting into our home.

Someone I hadn't heard from who hadn't bothered us for a week. I sat there for some time and looking at the camera on our bed frame, I resolved to put my mind at ease. I took on my phone and began watching the day's recordings on the app, starting from when I had placed the camera over our door. At first, there was nothing. I watched myself as I left in my car, and then I fast forwarded slightly, resolved to see something. I eventually did see Andrew step out of his house.

He was still dressed in his prim, two large starched clothes, the familiar big smile on his face as he seemed to greet the new day. I watched as he paced his yard a bit, examining things known only to him, and eventually he went to the yard next door. Again he paced at the driveway there Looking and seemingly making mental notes of things He went up and tried the doorknob And seeing it locked

Nodded and walked to the next house in the line Eventually he went out to view of the camera And after some fast forwarding I saw him come back around the other way Inspecting every house and testing to see if it was locked Then he simply went back into his home I watched as the camera kept on recording the midday scene, nothing of note.

No cars passing by, and I once again reflected on Andrew killing the cat. How misguided he was. How very strange. Still, I watched, again skipping ahead, and eventually he emerged from his home once more. Same clothes, same grin. This time, something in his hand.

He locked his door, and to my horror, headed straight to our doorstep. He didn't notice the camera. He didn't hesitate or glance around. He simply walked up to the door under the camera and remained there out of my view for a minute or two. Eventually, I saw the camera shake and fall, and I realized it was from the door slamming shut.

How do I describe what I felt next as I watched? I could tell you about the sinking, twisting feeling in my stomach as I switched to the downstairs camera of how I watched Andrew step into her home. I could tell you of the fear I felt when I saw him relock our door and then gingerly pick up the piece of paper from the floor inserting it deftly back into the doorframe.

Perhaps the horror and nausea as I watched him step lightly across our living room examining different things and then as he took what appeared to be a fine-tooth comb how he gently retracted his steps on the carpet erasing them. I think none of these can fully explain how terrified and ill I suddenly felt.

The silly, overreacting explanations had been true. Our neighbour had indeed been in our home mere hours ago. Panic had begun to take a hold of me, and I watched on. He carefully walked through our home, carefully picking things up and placing them back down. He eventually went up the stairs, and while I saw him lightly stepping and covering his footsteps, I could not see anything he did on the second floor due to how I'd placed the camera. Whatever he did there in the guest room,

my office or our storage area, took him hours. I carefully skipped ahead through the feed, shakily tapping my phone, and eventually he reappeared briefly as he walked past the camera and ascended to the third floor, the same big smile still on his face.

I put my phone down and took a moment to breathe. I looked around the room. the room, carefully scanning for what may have been covered footsteps, for anything that was slightly moved aside or touched, but I saw nothing. I wanted to call the police right then, to call my wife, to flee the house itself, but more than all of those, I wanted to see what else he had done. And so I switched to the feed from the last camera at the head of our bed. I saw him enter the room, glassy-eyed, his smile stretching to the edges of his face.

He stood there in the doorway, just breathing deeply for some time, almost trying to suck up as much of the air as he could. He moved around the big room and touched everything. He would only gently place the tips of his fingers and things, the dresser, the handles to the closet, the TV. He treated everything with reverence, and, as I watched his myriad of expressions of bliss, I could see that this really seemed like a holy place to him. Eventually, he moved to the bed, and I saw his face clearly. Shear bliss emanating from him, so delicately did he touch our pillows that I thought he might cry with joy. As happy as he appeared, I know that I was equally nauseous watching this.

Again, I wished to put the phone down to leap from the bed where I sat, knowing he had touched it. But I watched on. Around and around the bed he went, back and forth, touching him. smelling it, so much so that again I fast forwarded until I saw him stop. He had noticed a small camera on the bed frame. At first he stood there, simply looking at it, and when he reached out to touch it, I can only assume he realised what it was.

Immediately the blissful look was washed from his face. The wide smile twisted into a furious frown. The veins stood bulging against the skin of his thinly-haired head. and he flushed crimson. Where a moment ago he had been the glass-like look of a deranged blissful man. Here, a mere foot from the camera,

he was the face of a monster. He was livid, the anger rising from him like steam. His shoulders heaved and spittle formed in the corners of his twisted mouth. I have no idea what went through his mind as I watched him. I could only see his fury

as he continued to build and build. I held the phone at a distance from me and skipped ahead, feeling a genuine fear of what I was seeing. On and on on I skipped, and still, the ruby red face of Andrew stood staring at the camera, just as furious as ever,

until eventually his eyes went wide, his anger still visible, but now another emotion fide for its place on his brow. Was it confusion, panic, something he had sensed or heard made him unsure and he retreated from the camera never taking his eyes from it

he moved to the side of the bed where my wife's dresser was and placed the foot upon it upward he sprang gently pushing himself off the bed with his other foot he moved like a cat pulling aside the attic panel and with a practice grace he quickly and smoothly pulled himself up

and replaced it then a moment later it was pressed downward, barely a centimetre. His eyes just barely visible, focused on the camera. Until this point, everything I had seen had disturbed me greatly. I dared not look away from the screen. Even now, as I watched the feed, looking into the eyes peering from the attic.

With my stomach in knots, I simply watched. And equally, there in the attic, unmoving, Andrew watched the camera. occasionally he shifted so as to look down or to the side but only barely did he move and still i watched when a second person entered the room my blood went cold yet still i watched i watched as he changed out of his work clothes i watched him as he sat on the bed where i sat i sat i watched as he pulled out his phone and looked into it and i watched as the man in the attic watched him. I did not skip forward. I dared not put my phone down.

I dared not to breathe. Suddenly, I could almost feel Andrew's eyes boring into the top of my head, feeling his burning expression of fury pressing into me from above. And then I heard, so faintly that I might have imagined it. The attic panel above me creak.

Like lightning, I sprang from the bed. I raced down the stairs, grabbing my keys, phone still in hand, and outside I went. I got in the car, shoeless, and reversed out of my driveway, speeding away from my home with no destination but away. I was in a grocery store parking lot when my wife called. I could hear the worry in her voice as I explained what I'd seen. Eventually, through her own shock, she calmed me down and we agreed on a course of action. She soon left work and we went to her husband.

hotel for the night. She picked up some minor things we would need, and I, having finally calmed down, called the police. To their credit, the police took me very seriously. I explained everything as clearly as I could, and when we eventually got to the description of Andrew himself, there was a pause. The officer asked me if I was sure that was who I had seen. He repeated back to me the description of Andrew in even greater detail than I had. given him. That's what the guy looked like, you're sure? He asked.

I told him I was certain. I even had him on video. We were told to come to the police station and assured officers will be sent to our home right away. When we arrived, disheveled as we were, the police took us straight at the office of a man I assumed was highly ranked from how he was treated. On his desk was one thick manila file

and several others stacked beside it. We'd barely introduced ourselves when the man began questioning us. He wished to know every detail we could give him, far beyond just today's events. We gave him all we could, the name of our realtor, where we worked, contacts, family, so on and so on.

Eventually, I showed him the footage I had captured on my camera where he had left off. The man took the phone from me and immediately swiped at the end of the footage pausing it right before it ended. Andrew's furious face in clear view, his hands outstretched towards the camera itself. Yeah, that's him, he said.

He read the question as my lips formed them, and he held up a hand. He's a dangerous man, that's all you need to know. But you're safe now. And that was it. From then on, we were held for hours and questioned by several different pairs of police officers and detectives, but we were well taken care of and we did truly feel safe.

Eventually we were informed that we could go back to our hotel and the police had been sent ahead of us for our safety. Before we left, we were called back into what we then learned was the captain's office and we spoke with the captain himself once more. He filled us in on what had happened at our home, which was largely nothing. They hadn't found Andrew Or any trace of him in the attic They had checked his house too

And the captain described it as A rat's nest He told us of how the interior of the house Was filled with trash and refuse How there had been dozens of a cell signs piled up in the rooms No doubt from the houses on our streets On and on

He described the horrid place Andrew had made his home But they had not found the man himself He explained how we were going to be protected, how he was going to contact both our employers and so on, and, in the course of him doing this, someone else came in and handed him a phone, explaining he was two fellow officers. The captain answered it and simply listened to the faint voice on the other end for a while, occasionally pausing to confirm details.

Soon he turned to us and asked, You were staying at the so-and-so inn of Haifa Street by the gas station? My wife and I nodded. He confirmed it to the man on the phone. A moment passed and he turned to us again. Room 204. And my wife produced our hotel key. Room 204.

Again, he confirmed it to the officer on the phone. They talked at length and we gleaned little details until the captain itself seemed to suddenly relax. Whatever news he had been given was good. Under the bed, Jesus, good work. With that, he turned to us, smiling, the first genuine smile I'd seen in weeks. We caught him, he said.