CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "Some shooting stars aren't meant to be wished upon" Creepypasta

Starting point is 00:00:01 There it was, a fragment of the universe hurtling through the cosmos, and there I was, gazing up from the comfort of a farmhouse roof, built by my father's hands smack dab in the middle of nowhere. In all the years we lived out there on the countryside, not a damn thing remarkable ever happened. This media shower was the highlight of my entire life, and that's why, with a bit of wonder glazed over my eyes, I wished on that one shooting star, brighter than the rest.

Starting point is 00:00:34 I wished for some excitement. Almost as if in answer to my plea, the meteor took a U-turn and fell from the sky like a falcon diving for its prey. I watched, astonished, as it passed overhead and crashed into the wooded area behind my dad's property. Surprisingly, there was no sound, no explosion, just the rustling of tree leaves. as it plummeted through the forest's canopy. To make matters more peculiar, I swear I saw a red glow emanating from the crash site, however faint. After the initial shock were off, I climbed down from the roof and raced into the woods as fast as my scrawny legs would allow.

Starting point is 00:01:18 I had a rough idea of where the thing landed, so I darted in that direction, hoping I could take home a chunk of space rock as a souvenir to show my father. If I was lucky, it would be a treasure thrilling enough to keep him from getting mad that I went off into the woods by my lonesome. I could only hope. Eventually, I came to a small clearing where the moonlight gently caressed the earth, granting me a somewhat clearer picture of the flora and fauna around me. I noticed many small animals, frantically scurrying north for no discernible reason. I surmised that the media's landing frighting the wildlife nearby, And so, I decided to head off in the opposite direction.

Starting point is 00:02:04 Sure enough, after maybe ten more minutes of my impromptu hike through the wilderness, I came upon the source of the mysterious glow I'd seen before. There was no meteor. There, sitting in the smallest depression in the ground, was a metallic pot of sorts, complete with a blinking beacon protruding from its surface like an antenna. The craft itself was spherical. and at least twice my height.

Starting point is 00:02:31 I'd never seen anything like it before. I was utterly dumbfounded. Before I could take a closer look, a hatch opened up from its side, startling me back into the woods. With a racing heart, I scurried behind the nearest tree. I cautiously positioned my head around the trunk

Starting point is 00:02:50 and spied on the object with bated breath. I didn't know what to expect. Was it some kind of top-secret military weapon? or perhaps a remote control gadget built by a genius hermit living nearby? Would a little green man step out to greet me, demanding to speak with my leader? No matter the outcome, my eyes were glued to that metallic pod, for better or for worse. A dark violet ooze spilled out from the object, forming a large puddle had its base. The slimy substance then scaled the pod, coating the exterior from top to bottom.

Starting point is 00:03:27 as if the slime moved around the sphere, the light above stopped blinking. All at once, the purple liquid was repelled from the craft and back under the ground below. There, it began taking on a more humanoid shape. As the using changed, so too did its colour. It became white and fuzzy, not unlike television static. Appropriately enough, TV and radio dialogues soon filled the forest. The thing was collecting signals from thin air, regurgitating lines from popular programs long since broadcast.

Starting point is 00:04:04 At least, that's what it appeared to be doing. My mouth agape in awe, I began leaning forward without realising it. The signal ceased abruptly and I fell, head first, into a pile of dead branches, creating a loud crunch. From my new vantage point, I watched the white figure turn to my direction. I then heard it speak. Booze there. His voice was shaky and unnatural,

Starting point is 00:04:35 a low, monotone growl coupled with a harsh reverb. Scared for my life, I picked myself up and ran back home, faster than I'd ever run before. I reclaimed my perch on the roof and carefully surveyed the property. Once I was sure I hadn't been followed, I hopped through my bedroom window and climbed into bed,

Starting point is 00:04:55 hoping that I dreamt the whole thing up, an adventure concocted by my imagination running wild. I wished it were that simple, but wishful thinking rarely plays out in one's favour. The following day, I came downstairs to the familiar aroma of eggs and bacon. My father always cooked up a hearty breakfast on Sundays. The sight I was greeted with upon entering the dining room, however, was anything but familiar.

Starting point is 00:05:24 There, sitting at the table across my father, was a man in a clean-cut suit, wearing a bowler hat and a striped tie. We rarely entertained visitors, so I was more than a little perplexed. Son, this is Mr. Grovewood. His car broke down a couple miles up the road, so he's going to be staying with us for a few nights, just until he can get things sorted out. How do you do, sport? I remained silent, perturbed by the man's presence and still shaken from the previous night. He's paying us a generous sum to stay here, so you best treat him with respect. My dad glared at me in a way that effectively relayed his meaning. As such, I complied.

Starting point is 00:06:12 I'm well, sir, thank you for asking. The man smiled, albeit awkwardly, and I ran off outside to tend to the farm. I didn't know why, but I suddenly lost my appetite. Something just wasn't adding up. How did this stranger find the farm after his car broke down? We were literally surrounded by forest. Dumb luck, perhaps, doubtful. I was beginning to feel that his appearance the day after that thing landed in the woods wasn't a mere coincidence.

Starting point is 00:06:47 But this wasn't a theory I had enough nerve to explore. After all, I had already convinced myself. that the previous night's events were nothing more than a bad dream. The man would be gone in a few days either way, so I tried not to dwell on it. The next couple of nights were bizarre. Mr. Grovewood attempted to watch a sitcom with us while eating dinner, but his reactions were less than normal.

Starting point is 00:07:15 He seemed confused by the programme, I would only laugh after he noticed us laughing. And this wasn't just any laughter, mind you. It was a loud gopour of intensely uncomfortable proportions. I was almost relieved when he got pulled away by phone call from a business colleague, though I didn't hear a single word exchanged. The following night, I walked downstairs to the kitchen for a glass of milk, only to find Mr. Grovewood chowing down on a raw steak from the freezer.

Starting point is 00:07:45 I asked him about it, and all he said was, It's just a midnight snack. trust me a little colour does the body good Needless to say I ran back to my room in a hurry Without my milk Last night however Is when I became truly afraid

Starting point is 00:08:06 Walking past the guest room To get to the bathroom I overheard Mr. Grovewood on the phone This time He most certainly spoke Did you receive the information I transmitted Yes this is the language we must from here on out, we must avoid suspicion and blend in with the rest.

Starting point is 00:08:27 It's a lovely place, rich in minerals, water and life forms. You and the others are going to like it here. So long as you're ready, there's no going back from here. This will be our new home. Oh, no need. Why waste the materials and transports when I can beam you down instantaneously? I have two vessels here, ripe for the taking.

CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "Some shooting stars aren't meant to be wished upon" Creepypasta

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