CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "The 4 rules to finding your voice again" Creepypasta

Episode Date: January 20, 2022

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by Saturdead: 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►depingo: https://www.deviantart.com/depingo/ar...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-#Creepypasta #Horror #CreepsMcPasta

I'm afterdam, for the maids'er. For the maids, they're two-hour faster. Doy. Toadham? With Eurocity direct, though? 16 times per day from out Brussels and in two-hour. Now, from 19 euros in place of 25. Book you tickets on NMBS International.com.

The festival season is aang broken, and that betticket. And so, came Kim to Amazon.com.com. On the look to a waterdict tent, a comfortable luget. Oh, so, knus. And Lupeartprint regalards. Now, Kim has Kim has him more to make him over the modder, just like that's just a Only modder on

Oh yeah, only mudder. Drogoblev? Goar for. Find what you need to have on Amazon.com. com. My wife, Lacey, was in a car crash in April of 2020. Well, not so much as a car crash, as a car winginger at a crossroad at 54 miles per hour.

She had the pavement so hard, it fractured part of her throat and collarbone. Her left arm broke in three places. It was brutal. As I stayed with her and a family in the hospital, we had plenty of worries. She had a serious concussion and we were anxious it might lead to something permanent. The doctors kept talking about the use of a left arm and a fine motor skills. was only one single nurse who touched upon what would turn out to be the most permanent damage. Her throat.

At first, the doctors just told her not to speak. We were told she had to rest and regain her strength, so there would be no speaking for weeks as a throat healed. She also had to wear a sort of neck brace, this awful looking metallic thing. She was in desperately low spirits, but so very thankful for everything we did. As the weeks turned into months, most of her fractures and broken bones healed. But not her throat. Lacey still couldn't talk no matter how much she tried. I remember once when we stood in the kitchen, I looked her in the eyes and told her I loved

her and all she could say back was this wheezing whistle. She had some sort of panic attack and locked herself in the bathroom, trying to scream. We went through lots of trouble trying to restore her voice. hour after hour of strenuous exercises. She even had a few minor surgeries. At one point, Lacey started drinking this sort of home remedy from something she learned online. She got stomach cramps for about three days afterwards.

No wonder though, most of that recipe was just rosemary, olive oil and some bullcrap flour extract you could order online. The result was always the same. Lacey locked herself in the bathroom and cried, a parade of disappointment. I grew impatient seeing a despair over and over, so I joined her in a hunt for a treatment. But it had to be something guaranteed. I couldn't bear to see her disappointed again. Trying to find something to restore a broken voice is close to impossible online.

sorting through the scams is a full-time job. Whenever I had a few minutes over at work, I would post in forums and check search alerts. I had to open a second email account just to handle the sign-up spam. I got sent to a few earnest responses, but most of it just linked to dead-ends or holistic nonsense. There were a few genuine responses with links to articles, experimental treatments and upcoming technology. Nothing was accessible, it took me, it took me an email, it took me through. It came from an auto-generated email account, but somehow got through my spam filter. It read, don't worry, I know what you're going through. I know someone who can help. Don't be alarmed and follow these simple steps. One, plant and care for this

seeds. Two, welcome the guest. Three, listen to the song. Four, don't pick the white one. At first, I didn't think much of it. It was strange, but anyone who's been online for any longer period of time know that people like to make stuff up all the time. I just put it aside and thought no more of it. That is, until three days later, when there was a small white envelope dropped on her doorstep. Inside, there was an unmarked of seeds. I considered flushing them down the toilet, but I couldn't. The bathroom door was locked. Again, Lacey was crying. The sound of a broken throat, sniffling over the sink, broke my heart, as so many times before. I opened my mouth to speak,

but couldn't bring myself to do it. Even if there was close to no chance of this working, I had to try. I would do anything to make her, I just wanted to hear a call me sunny bear again, cutest nickname I've ever had. So I planted the seeds in our flower bed in the front yard, watered them, and cursed myself for being an idiot. Seeds turn to sprouts, that turned to storks. From the storks came buds, and from those flowers came these radiant royal blue sunflowers. It took less than a month, and even though they were smaller than ordinary sunflowers, Lacey loved them. She tried to bring a few into the house in a pot, but they kept dying. We decided on just leaving them be outside, letting them grow and cheer us up whenever we left the house.

Not that we went outside much. 2020 was one hell of a year. One night, Lacey and I had a bit of a fight. She got easily frustrated whenever I talked to. much as she couldn't effectively talk back. So, whenever I got a bit too talkative, she would leave the room. It frustrated me having to keep my thoughts on a short leash. Usually we could talk about anything at any time. Now I had to walk her eggshells. No wonder I started spending more time, soldering knick-knacks in the garage. We could barely be in the same room

anymore. As I was repairing our front door lamp, I noticed a shadow on our driveway. It wasn't technically our property, but it was clear they were observing me from the road. I couldn't make heads or tails of the frame, but it was clearly a normal-sized person, possibly wearing a large coat. Can I help you? I asked loudly. There was no response. A brisk wind rattled the flowerbed, which reminded me of the email I got way back when. It takes so little for the mind to travel to the most obscure crevices. I think I'm supposed to welcome you, I said. If not, well, have a good night.

As I started walking back to the front door, I kept talking. It was just nice to talk again. But just you are welcome. come, just to clarify. I took one more look at the shadow on the driveway, only to notice. It was gone. Over the coming days, I would notice Lacey standing by the window. A few times I would ask her what she saw, but she would just sigh and walk away. Soon I just stopped asking.

Several times a day, she would stand by the front door or look out the window. every time she'd look as where I'd seen that shadow of a person standing in the driveway and yet there was nothing there not that I saw

it was by now we started sleeping in separate beds she'd expressed how she felt pressured and sort of intruded upon and that she wished for us to find a way back to each other with love rather than

obligation and a sense of must I couldn't blame her marriage takes work and she wouldn't be happier if I've paused her to do something she was uncomfortable with. Instead, I started sleeping in the guest room. She would still be kind enough to make the bed while I was at work though, so not all was lost. There was warmth between us still. I didn't even think about the third item on the list. Listen to the song.

What song? It didn't make any sense. Yet, I found myself thinking. about that list more and more. I'd done two things on it, and it hardly took any effort at all. It was almost as if it was being done to me, rather than the other way around. But there was no song to listen to. At least there wasn't, until I started listening to Lacey. I don't know how long she'd been humming it. It was that kind of droning background noise that had just always been there. She could still hum, but I had no idea, but I had no idea,

actually was. So one day, I just kissed her on the cheek and asked her about it. No idea, she responded with a Texas beat chap. Nursery rhyme? It kind of had the tune for it, calm and a bit melancholic, music boxy in a way. There was no way to just search for the tune, but I couldn't stop thinking about it. Hell, I might as well, I might as well, I'd as well, I'd have humming it too. In fact, I hummed it so much, I started to make up words for it in my head.

At one point, journal and shower, I stopped to put it all in writing, just to see what lazy would think. I wrote, You're my friend, I'll sing your tune, a setting sun to rising moon. I ask you, buddy, buddy blue, won't you be? a sunflower too. I showed it to her as soon as I got home. To say lazy didn't care for it would be an understatement. She just stared at the paper. She was lost for words in more ways than usual. I tried talking to her, but she was growing hysterical. Again she locked herself in the bathroom, crying harder than usual. This time, I took it pretty hard. Just talk to me! I screamed, pounding at the door.

Just use the damn app. No response. No response. Lazy. You've got to give me to work with. Just please just make an effort. I'm right here. You're the one locking the door. I'm standing right here. I'm with you. Please.

And yet, despite all the pounding and all the yelling, the door stayed locked. A paper slid out from under the door. It was the lyrics I made up with a big screw you, with a liner. That night, we were getting into November, even the blue sunflowers were getting dry. I took a two-hour walk through what was quickly turning into a harsh storm, blowing leaves into my face the entire way. When I finally got to a nearby restaurant turned bar, I decided to take out my restorations and whatever number of drinks it would take me to calm the hell down. Right next to me were two guys who worked at the steel mill

about half an hour's drive south. I'd seen them around town, but we never really talked. Still, after living the life I'd lived for the past few months, I wanted nothing more than to talk until my throat was sore. They seemed eager enough to keep the conversation going. If nothing else, at least we could complain work. Three drinks in, I started talking about Lacey a condition. One of the brothers just nodded along,

but the other just looked at me curiously. As I stumbled into the topic of the strange email had gotten, he just stared at me. I've heard that, he said. Ain't that the Silver Tong game?

The brothers looked at one another. You're right. The other brother coughed, That takes me back. Apparently, the silver tongue game some of their kids who wanted to be great singers used to play back in the 1910s. It was a local topic of conversation,

sort of a forgotten superstition. Now that they mentioned it, I could vaguely remember hearing about it. The first rule, to plant and care for the seed, was not meant to be so literal. Originally, it was about daring kids to swallow sunflower seeds

and drink as much water as they could. The second rule to welcome the guest was a metaphor a rule. Kids weren't supposed to welcome guests into their house, so to welcome a guest was short-hand for doing something you're not supposed to. The third rule, to listen to the song, was to sing a specific nursery rhyme where others could hear it.

Anyone who knew of the game would recognise it and punish you, but most adults tend to forget it as they grow up. Then there's the fourth one, said the now, Don't pick the white one. That's still the same as it was back then. But what does it mean? It means what it means. Don't pick the white one, he shrugged.

When the devil comes to give you a new tongue, don't pick the white one. It looks the most like silver, but it ain't. I stepped away to text Lacey, but I got no response. The wind was picking up outside and I was starting to worry about getting home in one piece. The brothers were calling at a night but they weren't in any condition to drive. They had an Uber coming but they were going the other way. So we said her goodbyes. I was left standing in the parking lot not knowing where to go or what to do.

Finally I just started walking. The walk turned into a jog and the jog turned to a jog. turned into intermittent sprints. I hadn't followed the rules. hadn't swallowed any sunflower seeds. I hadn't broken any conventions or done what I was supposed to do. I wasn't the one who started to sing the other song either. Lacey did.

Had she done all the same things but the right way? If so, she was on the final step. What had she been doing? I was getting worried. I knew who's all superstition, but the sunflower seeds had shown up on our doorstep. There had been a stranger there watching us. Lacey had been acting strange lately, and she'd been locking herself on the bathroom more frequently. Had we been doing the same thing without telling one another? I got back home around midnight, my hands frozen stiff. My heart was pounding, and I didn't even know why. I was getting anxious

I fumbled for my I walked up the driveway only to realise the front door was open I don't know at what point I started saying no no no no no

to myself but there it was repeated like a damn Harry Krishna mantra lazy I called out the house was quiet except for the wind

forcing itself through the cracks in the front door. I hurried to the bathroom, only to see it was still locked. I pounded on the door, but it was useless. I ran out to fetch my tools, only to see a shadow standing in the driveway. I don't know if it was the same thing that I'd seen before, but there was one difference between this time and the first time I'd seen them. I'd fixed the light that goes above the front door. As I hit the switch, the intruder stepped out of the shadows. I'll never forget the sight of this woman. Easily six-five, but all hunched up in a crouch. She had this wild, bush-like black hair that pointed in all directions. Her skin had this metallic grey and blue tone, with a dry

and hardened texture, like cracked leather. At first I didn't think she had a face, as it was so thin I I could see more of her features. her eyes were completely covered in grey, and her pale lips were attracted in a forced smile. She was emaciated beyond what I thought a human could survive, and wearing nothing but a large fur-like coat. I could see the edge of a bare knees, feet and elbows sticking out. There was something on the inside of a cloak.

Tongues. No, my mantra continued. No, no, her face barely moved. But it didn't take much for me to realize. Her mouth that curled into a smile. I started backing away into my garage. She started sprinting towards me. I slammed the door down and pressed the lock.

I stumbled over my workbench, knocking over tools and cables as I reached for the lock on the side door. As I clicked it shut, I picked up the biggest wrench I could find and stepped back into the middle of the room. room. I could barely hear the wind outside as my heart swallowed all sounds. All but one. Sunny Bear, are you there? It was a voice. It took my reptile brain a few seconds to recognize it. I hadn't heard it in so long. That was Lacey's voice. Now I was the one who locked myself in a room, hearing my loved one trying to get in. But it wasn't her. That thing out there, it couldn't be. That thing out there had to be

something else. That couldn't be my lazy. Still, no one else called me Sonny Bear. No one. That's not you, I said. It can't be you. It's me, baby. Open up. No, no. You're not thinking straight. Let's talk about this. Tell me what you wrote on the note. note. It got quiet. The wind was howling out my thoughts. My heart was pounding I could feel it turning my stomach. I was going to be sick. Tell me what you wrote. No response. I knew it. It felt like an eternity, but it must have been no more than ten seconds that passed. Come out and she'll get a new one, the lacy voice said. slowly shifting pitch.

I don't trust you. She chose the white one, you know. The voice had turned venomous and dark, only keeping a vague cadence of what used to be lazy. What does that mean? You'll see, sunny bear. Just go away. You'll never hear her again.

No more whispers, no more songs. This ticked me off to no end. My mood swung from a complete, into a stomach-fuelled rage. I swallowed my thoughts, feeling my dry tongue stick against the corners of my mouth. I tightened the grip on my wrench. As I opened the side door,

nothing. I hurried inside the house and, using the wrench, managed to break the lock on the bathroom door. There, on the floor, was lacy. Her tongue was swollen. swollen and white.

She wasn't breathing. I just fell to my knees, I took her into my arms, repeating the same thing over and over. No, no, no. I had to try something. I fumbled my phone out of my pocket and 9-1-1 on speakerphone as I started giving a CPR.

Every breath I blew into her mouth, tasted a foul copper. but there was nothing I could barely register, as I could barely register, as I screamed for help. I don't know how long we stayed on the tear-stained floor. All I know is that after an eternity had passed, and as I heard an ambulance rolling up on the driveway, Lacey gasped for breath. As we locked eyes, I smiled. We didn't have to say a word to communicate. Yes, I love you too. Large parts of her tongue had to be removed. It was some sort of infection that spread to her mouth and she was in a serious condition. Her blood levels were all over the place. Still, she eventually recovered. Today, Lace's throat is fine. She still can't talk, but we're doing better. The trauma is there, but she's seeing a regular.

regular therapist and working through a diagnosed PTSD. Still, I'm not sure that I trust the therapist. Dr. Jane gives me some creepy vibes. Lacey and I are doing fine. There were so many things that can be said without words. And when the need rises, we've started to adapt to new tools and tricks. Whiteboards on the fridge for good morning greetings, just mouthing I love you as I leave for work, and earn his smile when I get back home. As I suspected, Lacey had been following the same rules as I had, but she had a bit more context. She ordered the same type of sunflower that kids used to eat the seeds off of back in 1910, the obscure Tom'scock sunflower that she bought from a collector. As for the second rule of doing something she wasn't supposed to do, she started smoking in the bathroom, and the song.

Well, I didn't know what it meant. singing it in front of the game. The only problem was the fourth rule. Not to pick the white one. Recently, I had the courage to ask her about what really happened that night, why she chose the white one and why she allowed herself to be tricked. It was the rules not to pick it after all, so how could she fall for it? That's the trick.

Lacey told me. They were all white.