CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "The Green Star of Blåkulla" Creepypasta

Episode Date: December 20, 2021

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►Col Price: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/1n...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-

I spent most of my childhood winters with my grandmother in northern Sweden. She and her two sisters lived on the outskirts of a small town in an area called Lüchler, or the Blue Hills. They're this small grey house. They did have electricity, but only at night, and the heat was powered by a furnace. In the daytime, the Blue Hills was this calm and serene place where you could almost hear the snow melt. but at night it was just this endless field of white fading into darkness. It was the most beautiful and terrifying place I've ever been. I remember one night in particular when I was about seven years old.

My grandmother took me ice fishing and as I sat there staring up at the stars with a hot dog in my hand, I noticed one star brighter than all others. It twinkled like a burning candle. It was green. That's the green star, my grandmother said. It can only be seen in special places far up north and only by special people. Don't look at it too long, or it'll turn the snow green. Thrice blinks the green star, misfortune becomes you.

It was nothing but superstition. But I did as she told me. She gave me an old castan key to hold and play with. It was some sort of good luck charm Still, all I wanted to do was stare at the bright green star twinkling away up there There was something magical to it As the years passed

I stopped going to my grandmother in the winter Instead, there was school, tests girlfriends and sports Taking up all my time But when she fell ill We had one last chance to visit her I'm so glad I did She was in good spirits to the very end

She passed away right there in that grey house in the middle of nowhere The same month as her two sisters Her ashes were spread on the lake The green star was still there I graduated, went to college Got my first job I got engaged to my girlfriend Samantha Or Sam at 24

For our five year anniversary We were planning a trip to Barcelona Then came the pandemic. Throwing out our plans, we had to find something else to do. Our first idea was to get diving certificates, but the restrictions in our area was too tough. Instead, we decided to go winter camping all on our own. Sam found a lodge we could rent, and we both had a few days off of work to cash in. We managed to get a five-day weekend, and we would spend three of those up north.

It wasn't the Blue Hills, but in a way, it felt like planning a trip back home. The more I thought about it, the more excited I got. A few days before we went, Sam had to go out of town for a business meeting. As was routine, she had to take COVID tests before and after she went. On the way back, she tested positive. She called me alarmingly early in the morning. I don't want you to catch it. it, she said. You go on your own. I know how much you've been looking forward to it. I'm sorry.

We talked about it and she convinced me. She would be coming home and by then I'd be up north. It was the best compromise we could come up with. On my way home, I'd stay a few days in a motel while she isolated. But that was a problem for future me. As the day came, I packed the car, called Sam and set off down the highway. It felt right. It was weird being without Sam, but I didn't feel alone. She wanted me to experience this,

and in a way it felt like Grandma was with me. I was singing old songs she taught me, and caught myself glancing up at the sky. The further I got from the cities, the more I could admire them. They were there all along, waiting for me to come home. Wonderful.

What was less wonderful was the 35 minute hike from where I parked my car up to the lodge. Without sound to help me, I felt myself getting more unsure of myself. Was this even the right way? What if I was lost? Not a lot of people have spent their winters walking through snow that reaches up to their knees, and it takes ages to get anywhere. When you're also using a flashlight to navigate up a narrow path and trying not to trip, you get this enormous sense of being exposed. There's something primal in that emotion,

but also something inexplicably real about it. When you've spent months or years worrying about quarterly reports and budget revisions, being out in the wild gives you perspective. It took me longer than I'd like to admit finding that lodge. Two rooms, four beds, a small kitchen, no power but a diesel generator outside the furnace to stay warm. The lodge was like to live.

on this small hill on a clearing in the woods. The view was out of this world, reaching for miles. There could have been a hundred other lodges out there. I would never know. I spent a few hours just settling in, warmed a pot of coffee, got up a salami and brought a chair outside. You never get used to how bright the stars really are once you get out of the cities.

It felt like coming home after a long day, looking up at them like I used to. And right there, if you looked close enough, was the green star. If you don't know where to look, you won't see it. But I've seen it. I've always seen it over and over, and I know just where to look. Just like back in the day, it was still there. I couldn't take my eyes off of it.

It brought a tear to my eyes seeing it again. It took me right back to that night on the ice, fishing with Grandma. Only seen in special places up north, I said to myself, There it is, Grandma. As I blinked away the cold from my eyes, the star was suddenly gone. I looked around, and it took me a few seconds to find it again. It gave me an uneasy feeling.

Was it really there? It was no brighter than a nightshade lamp. Maybe I was imagining it. Still, there it was. How could I not admire it? I must have sat there for at least two hours. My coffee grew cold and my salami was getting frozen. All the while, I just looked at the stars, breathing in the fresh air.

It was going to be a good night. It was hard to sleep that night. You don't realize how much you miss hearing certain sounds until they're gone. Someone's sleeping next to you, cars hunking outside, the buzz of electronics. Take all that away, and you get hyper aware of every little thing. I stayed at for hours, listening to creaking pine trees and branches dancing in the wind. I had slept like this a hundred nights, but this time felt different. Something out there was off.

The next day I went for a walk. There was a lake nearby, and I wanted to take a walk across the ice. I placed the bag, brought all my safety equipment, and called some. Sam. I couldn't get through, unsurprisingly, but I promised myself I'd try again on the ice. In general, it's a bad idea to venture out on the ice alone, but I'd done it a thousand times. This wouldn't be a problem. I brought my ice auger and fishing gear out on the ice.

It took me several hours to get a proper hole in the ice. I set up two small, baited rods and lean back with a thermos, listening to an audiobook. I tried giving Sam a call, but it still didn't work. Figures. I sat there in a world of my own for hours. I didn't catch anything, but that was fine. I was at peace, but I still couldn't shake the feeling of something missing. Maybe it was Sam or my grandma.

Maybe it was something else. As the sun started the set, I caught my dinner, budgeted it, put in an ice, and started packing. up. As the stars started to twinkle, I heard a chilling noise, a large snap just beneath me. I froze, I crouched down to better balance myself. Another crack. The ice was thick, but the sound of ice breaking underneath is impossible to miss here. I did what I was thought. I lay down flat to distribute my weight evenly and started crawling back to shore. I made it back to the shoreline, leaving some of my equipment behind. I still had my headphones, but I left the fishing equipment and the fish behind.

I just stood there for a few minutes, listening for the ice to crack. It was sudden. In a matter of seconds, the ice broke, or my fishing gear fell through the ice. I recoiled, backing away to the forest. From there, I could see it. The hole in the ice around my fishing spot. was perfectly round, unnaturally so. That wasn't the end of it.

On my way back to the lodge, I had a loud snap from a nearby pine tree. It fell over just a few feet ahead of me. If I hadn't stopped to check my cell coverage, that thing would have broken my neck. I heard other suspicious noises all throughout the evening, and the relaxing wind in the pine trees started sounding more sinister. I made myself another pot of coffee and brought out the last piece of my salami. But this time it felt like I was just doing it to watch my back. I debated whether or not to spend another day there.

And I was leaning towards not. Sam would agree. That night, the stars were brighter than ever. And right there, brighter than all, was the green star. I couldn't look away. It was like trying to avoid the sun It just burned into my eyes Through my eyelids

It seemed to grow brighter by the second And I had a hold up a hand to block it I closed my eyes Held up my hand and waited I was obviously having some sort of moment That settled it I was going back in the morning As I took down my hand

I lost my breath The green star was closer. It was as big as my fist, and close enough for me to see the surface. A squirming, moving surface, like breathing clouds in the distance. It was a glowing ball in the sky, bright as the moon, colouring the entire hillside and a wash of green. It was a thick light, so potent that it felt like I could taste it. It had a strobe effect, making my moving hand look like they lagged behind my thoughts.

I could feel myself pushing through it like a physical force. It was blinding, unreal, like a fire in the sky, making me hot enough to sweat. I got up from my seat, staring myself near blind. I snapped out of it. I looked away. The edge of the forest was lined with creatures, deer, hairs, foxes, even a few domesticated animals like chickens, cows and dogs. and in the back, behind all the other creatures

were people, broken people. Some pale as ice, others gored beyond recognition. One person in particular stuck out to me. A young woman with a broken neck and a rat-eaten body. No stomach, no fingers, no toes. A wide, open mouth at an impossible angle. No tongue. Dead, winter green eyes.

They all stood there in the distance, looking at me from the edge of the tree line, all bathed in the green light of the star above. I picked up my car keys and ran them between my fingers. I needed to feel something. I needed to feel that this was happening. Once I realized it was, my breath got caught in my throat. I was locked between fight or flight, and I didn't know what was what. But the warmth from the green star was real.

Whatever I did next would be real. I turned to run. There she was. I almost ran straight into her. It was as if the tree line had moved closer. The light was more intense than ever. All around me, silhouettes were closing in. I backed up against the wall of the lodge.

The broken bodies closer and closer. In the light of the green star, they all looked. hollow. In a pained groan, they reached out towards me. Man, animal, and everything in between. I fell to my knees, scrambling for balance. I screamed myself hoarse, scratching at the wall of the lodge like a cornered animal. My fingers were buried in blood and dirt, my nails nearly bending backwards from the effort.

There had to be something, anything. In my head, my screams were a desperate prayer to anyone, to anything. I felt a cold hand in my leg. I was crying. My tears tried to show me from seeing what was really happening. And there, something, a something, a small cast iron key, the same my grandmother once had given me to play with. I held it tight and felt the cold return.

Curled up in a fetal position, I laid in the snow and cried under my eyes were raw. I would never look at the stars the same again. The next day, I went home, numb. I know for a fact that not everyone can see the green star. Sam has never seen it, and even other people I know from up north have never seen it. But, as my grandma used to say,

it takes a special place and special people. Don't look too closely. Question what you see and force yourself to look away every now and then. I got back home to Sam, but I didn't know how to tell her. I still don't. I don't know what I really saw. But I don't want to see it ever again.