CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "Something is happening next door in my mother's apartment complex" Creepypasta

Episode Date: May 28, 2021

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My mother has lived in the same apartment building for the last two decades. Even three years ago, when she had a car accident and went through six months of therapy to be able to walk again, she refused the move from the fifth-story home she'd had since I moved away for college. I tried to point out that while she was getting around okay with a new cane, a ground floor place would be a lot more convenient. She'd nodded toward the hallway as she pointed out that the elevator made every floor the ground floor. When I asked her what she'd do if the elevator was out or there was a fire, she just shrugged. Well, I guess I'll just tumble my ass down the steps.

My mother's attachment to her apartment isn't limited to the place itself, of course. She likes the neighbourhood, and she also likes the neighbours. Apartment buildings are funny. A lot of the times you live with dozens of other people without knowing them at all. But her building had enough long-term tenants that, over time, People grew familiar with each other. They chit-chat in the hallway. Occasionally they might have a party or water each other's plants.

For her part, my mother was among the most social of the social butterflies in the building. She worked from home, which gave her plenty of opportunities to encounter the strangers around her and make them something more. Her next-door neighbour, Mrs. Saber, had been one of her closest friends for a number of years. I remember in my twenties, I'd come home to visit and they'd be hanging out like college roommate in one apartment or the other, talking, watching a movie, or having a couple of drinks. Then, very suddenly, it just stopped.

Mom stopped mentioning her at all, and when I asked her what Mrs. Saber was up to, she'd just sound anxious and changed her subject. It wasn't until a few years later that Mom told me that her friend had got all ties with her and pretty much everyone else in the building some time back. At first she hadn't known why. She'd been worried she'd offended the woman somehow or that something was wrong.

She tried to call or get her to the door multiple times, but she refused to respond beyond telling her through the door that she wasn't interested in socialising anymore to please go away. And so, as much as it hurt and worried her, she had. I could tell as she told me about the death of her friendship

that it caused her a lot of pain, and I found myself both sympathising with my mother and feeling resentment towards the woman that had been a good friend to her for so long. I asked Mom if she had ever found out the reason behind the sudden change. She had. That had been the reason for a call and her confession to me. Just that morning, all of the tenants had gotten a note in their mailboxes from Mrs. Sabert. It said, in short fashion, that for the past several years,

she had been dealing with a degenerative neurological disson. and that it had been her decision to withdraw from active social life for reasons that were her own. But that, as she neared the end of that decline, she was going to have regular nurse care that would likely turn into full-time hospice care in under a year. She offered this note as a brief apology and explanation for the equipment and staff that might be utilising the elevator and briefly cluttering the fifth floor hallway from time to time. She thanked everyone for their past friendship and asked that they continue to respect to wish for privacy.

My mother was crying as she told me this. She said that she'd had the strong urge upon reading the note to go to Mrs. Sabre and tried to talk to her anyway. Let her know she was there for her any time she needed anything. Yet, as she headed down the hallway, with a well-meant plan in her head, she saw the woman's door was already open. Two large men were man maneuvering a large hospital bed in through the narrow front door frame, grunting and muttering as they twisted it this way and that.

Mom had looked past them into the apartment. It was largely dark, except for patches of grey morning sun deeper inside. She could see part of the living room where her and Mrs. Saban had spent so much time together. And then, after a moment, she realized she was seeing Mrs. Saber herself. The woman was sitting in a chair, shrunken and grey. with long stringy hair and a drawn face punctuated by wide, staring eyes. She looked 20 years older instead of four, a ghost of the woman she'd once known.

Mom had raised her hand in solemn greeting, testing the waters to see if catching the other woman's attention might be enough to re-establish even tenuous contact. Mrs. Sabre's eyes had shifted, even at a distance. Mom had been sure she'd seen her, but she didn't smile or wave. didn't stir at all. The only signal, a glance in a direction, was there and then it was gone.

As her old friend went back to staring at, well, she had no idea. Her heartbreaking, Mom abandoned her plan and went into her own apartment and closed the door. I talked to Mom for two hours that night, doing my best to console her. Over the next few months, she would bring up Mrs. Sabre occasionally, but the men dimensions grew more and more sporadic. There was no news or real signs of change other than strange people going in and out of the apartment at all hours of the day and night.

It took me a while to recognise the shift in my mother's tone when she talked about Mrs. Sabre, her voice was still laden with worry and sadness, but there was a growing thread of suspicion there as well. Once I noticed it, it was hard not to be concerned. My mother was not generally morose or suspicious person, If anything, I'd always felt she was too willing to overlook others' floors and give them the benefit of the doubt. But with this, at first it came across as concern for Mrs. Saber.

Was she being treated well? Were her caretakers doing their best? Were they trustworthy? But it wasn't long before her concerns had seemingly shifted to the woman herself. What was she doing over there? She heard strange noises in the middle of the night. singing animal sounds even though there's a no pet policy

in the building sometimes it sounded like people were chanting something not just one person but several my worry was growing at this point not about Mrs Sabre but my mother in most ways she seemed

the same as she always had but this weird obsession with a neighbour was it just her way of dealing with losing a friend just being a weird older woman or was it the sign of some mental issue blossoming in my mother? I told myself I was being alarmist, but by the third conversation about strange, terrible noises

and hearing the woman over there singing some kind of creepy song, I decided to quit verbally nodding along and help my mother through whatever was going on. Mom, could it be the TV or something? Maybe she's playing it louder and you're just hearing that. No, I'm not stupid. I've never heard anything like this for, from her apartment before, and we certainly never used to watch anything that sounded like that.

Yeah, I mean, I get that, but that doesn't mean that's not what it is. Maybe she's watching a lot of horror movies or something. I know you don't know her that well, but Cecilia can't stand horror movies, and I certainly don't think she'd be watching that kind of thing now with, well, whatever is going on with her health, given the way that she looked when I last saw her. I don't know that she's watching much of anything. Maybe, but maybe not Her tastes might have changed, right?

Or maybe she always liked that kind of stuff But she kept it from you because she knew that you didn't like it Just because you were friends and live next door to each other Doesn't mean you know everything about her Not trying to be mean, but I think you need to just let it go It's upsetting you And again, not trying to sound crappy But it's not really a business

If she really is dying, she deserves to do it how she wants and you dwelling on whatever she's up to over there isn't helping either of you. Mom was silent for several moments and then changed the subject. A few minutes later she got off of the phone. After that we talked a little less frequently, but when we did, the subject of Cecilia Sebert didn't come up. Until two weeks ago, when I answered a phone call from Mom as I was driving home from work.

She's well. What? Who's well? Cecilia, I just saw her walking away from the building as I came in from the store. She... Well, she looks better than I've ever seen her. Younger and stronger. She was walking by herself without any problem.

And if I didn't know any better, I'd have sworn she was no more than 30. Well, I mean, that's good, right? Yes, yes, that's good. It's just... It's strange, isn't it? How did she get well? How did she get to looking so young? It must be something they did over there

Something happened next door I can feel it Or her medicine is helping her Or she was just having a good day and wearing makeup I'd just be happy she looks better And try not to worry about it Yeah sure you're right I'll just let it go

And again I thought she had Then three nights ago I got an email from my mother As you know I hate sending emails they seem very impersonal to me and while I use them frequently for work I try to avoid them in my private life whenever possible in this case however

I think it's the best means of communication as by the time you receive and read it I'll be done with it we can talk about it by the phone later on and I'm sure you'll scold me as though I were your child but that is for later for now I want to tell you what I've seen and what I'm about to do

I have not, as you suggested, set aside my concerns about Cecilia. After seeing her out and about that first time, I saw her making frequent trips here and there. I would catch glimpses out my window that faced the street, and twice I saw her while I was out myself, as she seems to be primarily frequenting the park and the shops in our neighbourhood. It wasn't until the third day of this that I decided to approach her. Tell her how happy I was that she was doing better, maybe even suggests we get together like the old times. She was walking back from the local drugstore

when I next saw an opportunity. I fell beside her and asked her how she was doing. Up close, the difference in her was far more amazing. It's not just makeup, she really looks a lot younger. If I didn't know her so well, I'd be convinced it was a younger sister or daughter. But no, without question, it was her. not that you could judge it by how she acted. She knew me and was polite,

but she was very distant and strange. Her words and her actions were all fine, if bordering and unfriendly, but everything else about her was wrong. Her expressions, the tone and her voice, the way she moved, it all seemed off, and not just because of the passage of time,

I can tell you. She also had this odd thing she kept doing. As we spoke briefly, she would periodically twist her mouth slightly. It was as though she tasted something sour. Neither of us acknowledged it, and before I knew it, she had brushed me off and went on her way.

This could have been the end of it, and maybe it should have been. I admit that my feelings had been hurt by all of this more than they should have, and I focused on it more than is reasonable. I told myself those very things as I began to follow her over the next couple of days. I know how that I have a little.

sounds, I knew at the time, and yet I still did it. Again, I expect to hear from you on it when we talk, and I won't say I'm undeserving of some choice words, but in my defence, I did it at least in part because of this feeling of wrongness, of danger, that I just couldn't shake. It's bothered me for months now, and talking to her on the street. Well, it made it worse, not better. So, I followed her, as subtly as I could, of course. And to be fair, I think I did a good job overall. I never saw her noticing me trailing behind or set up at a nearby vantage point

as she went to the grocery store or walking at the park. And to be fair, the mundane routine of her trips out was comforting to me. She wasn't doing anything that odd or different than the old Cecilia I'd known. Perhaps I was just overreacting after all. But then, on the fourth day of my spying, she walked past the park and into the woods that lay beyond. I almost didn't follow her. Part of it was shame for spying on her.

Part of it was fear at getting caught. Because I come to realize that, for some reason, I couldn't totally explain. I was a little afraid of her now. That may sound crazy to you. I've suspected you've worried about my mental health over the past few months, if we're both being honest. So have I.

But it didn't change the problem. powerful feeling I had that there was something wrong with my friend, and if I could possibly help, I needed to try. So, I followed her into the woods. She didn't go too far before reaching a small clearing, and the group of people that waited for her there. A couple I recognized from town, another two or three I'd seen coming in and out of Cecilia's apartment over the last few months. The rest of the better than a dozen figures circling her was strangers to me. I was too distracted to know or care. They had encircled her as soon as she walked into the clearing. Their voices echoing off the ring of trees as they began to chant in much the same way as the

noises I've told you about from her apartment. It was a large, round wicker basket in the middle of the circle, and Cecilia went to it and lifted the lid off without hesitation. Glancing down into it, I saw her mouth twist slightly as she smoothed the skirt and knelt down before it. This next part, you'll think I'm crazy. That's unavoidable. But it's the truth, and I need there to be a record of this, both for me and for you. And, well, I don't want to be the only proof of this having happened, just in case things go differently than I'd like.

Cecilia opened a mouth wide and leaned over the basket. At first I thought she was going to throw up And I guess in a way she did But It wasn't vomit that came out It was snakes Thick black and green snakes Impossibly wide and long

Slid out of her mouth and into the basket One after another I didn't count But there was over a dozen Far more than could have possibly been inside her Given their size She had filled the basket by the time she was done After it was over

Cecilia simply stood up replaced the lid on the basket and dabbed at the corners of her mouth for any errant lipstick She gave no indication of being troubled by the horrors she just vomited up And after a brief glance Around the group she headed off

In the direction of home I stayed where I was for the next three hours I watched the others carry the basket away And I saw or heard no sign of them returning But I was still terrified of being seen or caught. So, I waited until the light started growing dim, and then made my way back to the apartment to write this email.

I'm going over there tonight, right now. I can hear her over there, I think, and I have to confront her, try to help her. If I don't do it now, if I talk to you first, I'll be too scared and too weak to do it. And maybe that'd be the safer choice, a smarter choice. But that doesn't mean it's the right one. and I'm too old to want to add any more regrets than I can help.

It may be that I call you before you even read this, but if not, please don't worry. I'll call you when I'm done, either later tonight or tomorrow. If you haven't heard from me by tomorrow night, please check up on me. But under no circumstances are you to interact with Cecilia or any strangers here. I've debated not telling you any of this,

out of fear it will push you towards the very people I'm afraid. of, but I'm trusting you to listen to me in this. If something goes wrong, not that it will. Please let the authorities do whatever can be done and stay out of it. Do not catch the attention of these people and whatever terrible things they are doing. I love you. Stay safe. I'll talk to you soon. Mom, I didn't read that email until the morning after it was sent.

And I naturally texted and then called Mom to say. see how she was doing. There was no answer the first time or the second, and by mid-afternoon I was trying her once an hour. It was around three when she picked up. Yes? Mom, I've been calling you. I got your email.

I... Are you okay? How are you feeling? Hey, I'm fine, dear. Just fine. How are you? I'm okay. Just worried.

Did you go over there? To Mrs. Sabot's place? Oh yes, she's doing fine too We've actually become quite close again recently But, I mean that email really had me worried The snakes and Oh God, I'm sorry, that was meant as a joke I

Well, me and Cecilia got a little tipsy yesterday Celebrating our reunion and all And we got to laughing about how paranoid and worried I've been How I'd been telling you all this weird stuff Well, we wound up writing that email As a kind of prank I guess I was going to call you last night until you was a joke, but honestly, we fell asleep, and I guess I slept most of the day away.

Okay, yeah, I mean, you really got me. Damn, I... Are you sure you're okay? Fine as paint, dear, thank you for calling. But, I really must be going. Talk to you soon, okay? Um, how about if I flew out this... The line was already dead.

I'm really dead. writing this all down now, because I did fly out yesterday. At the time, I was worried that mum was hiding some kind of mental breakdown, and wanted to make sure it was all a prank, like she claimed. I decided against calling her, warning her that I was coming over. I wanted to see things as they were, not how she wanted to present them. I felt guilty about it, but it was the only way I could be sure she was okay. So, I flew into town, rented a car, and drove over.

to her apartment. I bused her apartment, but there was no answer. After several tries, I decided to try Mrs. Sabert's place. No answer there either. It was as I was turning around to head back to the car that I saw them walking up the street together. It took me a second to recognize them. Mrs. Saber, well, my mother had been right. She looked younger than me, and more healthy and beautiful looking than I ever remembered. As for my mother, she looked different as well. Her skin was pale and ashen, with flakes of drying skin scaring up her cheeks and arms. Her hair looked dry and brittle as broom straw, and her lips were split and scabbed at the corners,

as though her mouth had been stretched too wide for too long. Despite all of that, she was smiling as I approached them. Hello dear, what a great surprise. Her voice was hoarse, but she kept a light tone as she met my eyes. Light, but uncaring. Not at all, her normal reaction where she saw me after a few months, especially if it was a surprise. Um, hey, Mom.

I glanced at the other woman who was regarding me coolly. Hey, Mrs. Sabre. Hi there, good to see you. Her expression didn't change, but a gaze shifted to my mother. we should be going My mother glanced at her Then back to me with a slight nod Yes I'm afraid so dear

Good to see you We'll have to visit again while you're in town I couldn't hide my surprise What can't you do something now What can I go with you guys I'd really like to talk to you and see you for a bit Her mouth twisted slightly As though she'd bitten into a lemon

No not right now You really should have called before you came. It's very inconsiderate. She glanced at Mrs. Sabert again. In any case, we are late for an appointment. I'll discuss this with you later. With that, they walked past me without another glance. I thought about following, about pressing the issue,

but there was no point. Whatever strange influence Mrs. Sabat might be exerting on my mother, it was too strong. I needed to get her alone. So I'm writing this because of what I've seen Of all my mother had seen before I don't know what parts of it I believe And what parts I don't

But I'm scared enough now That I want there to be some record of it all Because I understand what mum meant now About the wrongness that you feel I felt it being around Mrs Sabert and mum yesterday I can't tell you how or why But there's something off beyond their appearances something has happened here or is happening here

and I have to try to figure it out I have to talk to mom It seems like I wasn't the only one with that idea As I'm writing this I just got a text from my mother She wants to meet tonight at her apartment around 8 I offered to pick us up some dinner and bring it over But she said not to worry The meal is already

taken care of.