CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "The Portrait In My Rental Keeps Looking At Me" Creepypasta

Starting point is 00:00:01 A few years ago, my girlfriend at the time and I rented a secluded home in the country to celebrate our three-year anniversary. Things are going well in our lives. We both just got promotions and signed a lease for our first apartment. Our jobs kept us running rampant in the weeks that followed, so this long weekend was a welcome getaway. Little did Lydia know, but I plan on making this weekend one that we would never forget. I would be proposing. The house was cozy and quaint, residing on a little. large plot of land that was at least a half mile from its nearest neighbour.

Starting point is 00:00:35 We had a lot of privacy, which was precisely what we wanted. The house featured a decent size living room, kitchen, den and balcony on the main floor, along with a large master bedroom upstairs. I noticed it first while unpacking our bags at the upstairs bedroom, hanging on the wall we'd be facing when lying in bed, was the portrait of a stern-looking woman sitting in a small wooden chair. The portrait was about three feet tall with a dark oak frame containing intricate mouldings. The woman looked middle-aged with fair-tone skin and long jet-black hair cascading down her shoulders

Starting point is 00:01:12 that contrasted sharply with a light grey dress she wore. Her head was noticeably disproportionate, having somewhat of an ovular shape containing a large forehead, non-existent chin, along with a small nose and mouth. Despite her relatively blank facial expression, the woman's large, piercing, black eye, contained an alluringly menacing stare that appeared to follow wherever you went. An enveloping sense of being watched dampened the room, while I visibly fought temptation to look directly at the eerie portrait. I don't think I can sleep with that thing watching us the entire time,

Starting point is 00:01:46 I finally blurted out, sighing in relief at finally acknowledging the looming elephant in the room. We both stared at the painting, as if anticipating a reaction from the woman it betrayed. Just throw a blanket over it or something if it bothered. as you that much, Lydia suggested nonchalantly. I warily walked up to the portrait and grabbed its sides. It feels attached to the wall.

Starting point is 00:02:10 That was actually a lie. I was genuinely afraid of further touching the painting. As soon as my fingers rested on the frame, I hastily stepped back, which Lydia, who resumed unpacking, didn't notice. The woman's sharp, fearsome stare glared with burning apathy, bombarding me with an unshakable feeling that something terrible would happen if I tried moving the portrait.

Starting point is 00:02:34 After Spoon-Mai, it feels attached to the wall excuse. I quickly retrieved the towel from the bathroom and draped it over the painting. The rest of the evening continued without incident. After unpacking, we made dinner, polished off a bottle of wine, and called it an early night. I forgot about the painting by the time we turned in, and didn't even acknowledge it or getting ready for bed. I wanted to let Lydia pass out first so I could take the ring I picked the ring. out for her, a 2.5-carat diamond, and hide it in the kitchen. I planned a three-course dinner for us and wanted to drop the ring in a champagne glass, so she'd notice when we toasted our anniversary.

Starting point is 00:03:12 I couldn't stop thinking about how Lydia would react in the days leading up to this weekend, and commended myself for not arousing any suspicion. Unfortunately, I wound up dozing off myself while waiting for Lydia to fall asleep. A few hours later, we were awoken by a loud thump, causing both of us to shoot upright and wildly scan our darkened surroundings. When I turned on my lamp, we quickly noticed the portrait fell from the wall. Upon further inspection, the painting didn't appear damaged and fell because the nail holding it had gotten loose. The bath towel I threw over the portrait came off, revealing the woman's ominous, unnerving gaze that instantly filled the room with a ghastly tension. Lydia, that painting is just creepy, I said, while preparing to get out of bed.

Starting point is 00:04:02 just move it out of the room then Lydia quickly responded or turning over in bed and we will put it back up before we leave fine with me I concurred quickly stepping out to bed and grabbing the portrait I walked about halfway down the hallway

Starting point is 00:04:18 before stopping at the closet with enough room to fit the painting before sliding it into the closet I froze upon yet again locking eyes with the painting sinister gaze sensing something different about its appearance The woman looked angrier, her brow appearing more furrowed, eyes now possessing an unnerving expression of disgust and resentment. I stared at the painting for a few seconds longer like I expected it to say something before snapping out of my trance and hastily stuffing it in the closet.

Starting point is 00:04:51 In addition to darkness, I also considered how exhausted I was from being up since 6am on top of the long drive out here, which was enough for me to dismiss my overthinking of the painting. Lydia was already asleep by the time I returned to bed and I was able to quickly follow suit. Later that night I had to use the bathroom, which was down the hallway. While finishing up, I heard faint scratching sounds that seemed to come from the walls. I listened closely to the light scraping

Starting point is 00:05:20 that didn't appear to have any sort of rhythm and were occurring sporadically. The scratching continued as I exited the bathroom. Upon stepping out into the hallway, I pinpointed where these noises came from. The closet. The scratches subsided when I stopped in front of the closet. Upon opening the door, an umbrella and some coat hanger spilled out, causing me to release a short yelp as I backed against the wall.

Starting point is 00:05:48 The painting hadn't moved, and I assumed that the scratching must have been the shifting items that fell. I tried not to look at the woman's scornful stare, although I very much felt it, watching my every move while putting back the umbrella and coatangers. I saw in my peripherals, however, the portraits still contained that expression

Starting point is 00:06:08 of seething ire, prompting me to quickly close the closet door, making sure it was securely shut. Hoping to finally get a restful sleep, I was on the cusp of fading into unconsciousness when Lydia's side of the bed lightened. I heard her footsteps exit the bedroom and moved down the hall before ceasing.

Starting point is 00:06:27 and figured she must be getting herself something to drink. While dozing in and out, my ears picked up Lydia re-entering the bedroom after a few minutes, but a step ceased. I opened my eyes after a lengthy pause, only to find Lydia fast asleep next to me, certain she was standing in front of the bed. Sitting up, I turn on my light and scan the bedroom. I lightly nudged Lydia, who turned away from me while grumpily grunting, after which I reminded myself, I was half asleep for most of that ordeal and must have missed when she got back in bed. While processing what had just happened,

Starting point is 00:07:04 I remembered the diamond ring in my nightstand and decided to bring it downstairs while it was still on my mind. I had discreetly retrieved the black ring box from my nightstand drawer and slipped it into my pocket before tip-tone out of the bedroom. Bringing the ring downstairs also gave me an excuse to check on the rest of the house. Although I knew it was most likely Liddya's footsteps, I'd still sleep better with a peace of mind, knowing we were definitely alone in this house. I didn't even acknowledge the closet door containing the portrait when walking down the hallway

Starting point is 00:07:35 and concealed the ring box behind some cleaning supplies in the cabinet below the kitchen sink. After checking the main floor, I was about to go back upstairs when the ceiling above me started creaking. Each groan was a few seconds apart and came from a different spot of the ceiling. It sounded like someone was walking across whatever room. was directly above me, which I realised was the bedroom. I hurried upstairs, but saw nothing, nor did I find any traces of Lydia or someone else moving about, and reluctantly dismissed the creaks as house noises. A quick glance at the radio's clock's glowing numbers, where the time was half-past two in

Starting point is 00:08:15 the morning, caused me to scowl crankly. I made one last obligatory sweep at the bedroom before shutting my eyes and getting comfortable, unable to shake off the sense that something was amiss. Although I was exhausted and faded into a deep sleep, I realised what was wrong as I drifted off, being the last thought I had, whose revelation seemed to drag me into dreamland before I could give an adequate reaction.

Starting point is 00:08:41 Was the painting back on the wall? I woke up the next morning with a knotty feeling in my stomach. I turned to face the nightstand and glanced at the clock, which read 9.14 a.m. It was uncharacteristic of us to still be asleep this time of morning, even on vacation, since both our bodies were programmed to wake up at the crack of dawn. Feeling extremely groggy, I froze upon noting the painting, was indeed back up on the wall, spotting it in my peripherals while I stared blankly at the ceiling.

Starting point is 00:09:12 This was the day I'd be popping the question to Lydia, I thought, which helped rejuvenate me with a sense of excitement and giddiness. Briefly distracted from the portrait, a smile was brought to my feet, face as I stretched my limbs and reached over to rest my hand on Lydia, only to feel my palm land on a wet, sticky surface. Lydia? I asked in bewilderment, quickly withdrawing my hand to see it was coated in red while turning to face my fiancé to be. Lydia stayed at the ceiling, her bulging widened eyes containing a permanent expression of sheer terror while her mouth hung frozen mid-scream. Two fist-sized chunks of flesh were missing from Lydia's neck,

Starting point is 00:09:52 whose head barely remained detached to a body, blood covering the entire section of a bed and seeped over into mine, coating most of my right side. Screaming in horror and anguish while springing to my feet, I noticed three or four more large chunks of flesh missing from her arms and torso.

Starting point is 00:10:09 Parts of Lydia's entrails protruded from our abdominal openings, which upon closer inspection resembled massive bite marks. I pinned myself against the wall, my heart feeling like it was pounding on my chest as a spine-tickling light-headedness and gut-wrenching nausea formed. Trembling uncontrollably, I felt like my legs were going to give out as I contemplated what to do next, struggling to comprehend the grisly scene.

Starting point is 00:10:34 My eyes were drawn to the painting that I just remembered was back on the wall. The woman's face looked completely different, and now widened eyes appeared to bulge out of her head and contained a deranged, twisted look. A blank facial expression was replaced by a maniacal. ear-to-ear smile, flashing a set of large, jagged, brownish yellow teeth, that, along with the area around her mouth, was smeared with blood. Before finally bolting out of the house, one of the last things I noticed was the blood covering the woman's mouth appeared to be smeared on the portrait's

Starting point is 00:11:09 surface, which streaked down the rest of the canvas and dripped on the floor. In my hysterical state, I struggled to get the car unlocked and took one last look at the house. The portrait now stood in one of the bedroom windows, looking down at me. The woman in the painting still wore that wide, toothy, blood-soaked smile, appearing to lavish over my agustate. I got in my car and drove, unsure where to go, still in my pajamas with most of my right-side soaked in Lydia's blood. I kept driving until I spotted another car that I flagged down and had them call the police. I was still severely shaken when the authorities arrived, who initially seemed skeptical about my story, but believed I was genuinely shaken by whatever I saw.

Starting point is 00:11:55 Naturally, I was the top suspect in Lydia's death, but ultimately got cleared of any wrongdoing after a thorough investigation. Although the detectives exonerated me, they never provided an official explanation of who or what killed Lydia. They went back and forth between theorising who some sort of animal or intruder. What was most unsettling about their findings were when they confirmed Lydia's wounds were in fact bite-mind.

Starting point is 00:12:20 but never identified where they originated. I never mentioned anything about the portrait, figuring that telling such an outlandish story would rekindle any suspicion. A few weeks after Lydia's death, the houseowner reached out, saying he found my engagement ring while cleaning out the kitchen cabinet.

Starting point is 00:12:39 After giving him my mailing information, and the man's response hit me with the impact of a fast-moving locomotive. What portrait? The man claimed, he never hung a painting in that bedroom, nor did he have any idea what I was talking about when I described the portrait.

Starting point is 00:12:57 I spent countless hours trying to piece together what happened that night, unsure if Lydia and I fell victim to some ultra-stealthy assailant or something more unexplainable. There was no way we were alone that night. How else could you explain the footsteps or the portrait being put back up on the wall?

Starting point is 00:13:15 But what about the painting's changing expressions? This twisted, gruesome smile. or blood physically smeared over the woman's face dripping onto the floor. I don't know how long I obsessed over these questions before finally accepting I would never get the answers I sought. I decided to write about what happened to me as a form of closure, among other reasons. Lydia's case is still open,

Starting point is 00:13:41 but I haven't heard from the police or any new developments in years. I finally started to move on and even met another girl that I've had a strong relationship with over the last 16 months. I never told her about Didier, although I regret not saying anything now, which segues into the second reason I'm recounting that fateful weekend.

Starting point is 00:14:02 I'm staying in a motel right now, after seeing what my current girlfriend bought from a local flea market, what she called a surprise that would, quote, compliment our bedroom's decor, which was a project she put us off in charge of. She's an interior decorator.

Starting point is 00:14:18 Turned out to be my worst nightmare. My current girlfriend unwittingly purchased that same of the woman with menacing eyes and blank expression, which she hung on the wall directly, across from our bed.

CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "The Portrait In My Rental Keeps Looking At Me" Creepypasta

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