CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "There's No Place Like Hell For The Holidays" Creepypasta

Episode Date: December 26, 2021

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by beardify: 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►Zack Cy: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/L2...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-

Look, ah, I ain't much of a storyteller. Didn't even graduate high school. But I got no rouse to turn. It all started when I stole the guy's passport. I mean, maybe it started earlier than that. Way earlier. I guess I was always going to turn out crooked. At home, nobody cared what I wanted, and there was no money to buy it anyhow.

But I had this cousin right. The guy had cash a spare. I was just a kid but he treated me, made me feel important. So it was no big deal when he asked me to distract this three-piece suit lawyer for a couple of seconds. When we turned the corner, he handed me the guy's wallet, and that was just a taste. My cousin and his buddies got me deeper and deeper into their little schemes. I was 13 by then, and if I got scared or didn't want to, all they had to do was call me a pansy or shove me around to I did as I was told.

Truth is, they played me like a damn piano. Course, before long, I got caught. And getting caught only made me want to get better. Easy stuff at first. Tourists, unattended luggage, drunk college students.

I dressed up as a waiter, bow-tie and all, to raid the purses at some charity event. Even got myself hired as a janitor for a few months to snag this one-stock broker's computer. Hey, if it pays, I don't ask.

That's why the big guys sent me over to the airport. Great place to skim credit cards for one. Luxury shops, first-class carry-ons, fake Wi-Fi for snagging passwords, account numbers and more. But the real money is in paperwork. Companies pay top dollar for a look at the competition's plans, and everybody wants a first-world passport. The guy was mayonnaise pale and blonde as an 80scent of old. tailored suit too all the same

he was trying hard not to stand out same as me that made him interesting maybe he had a secret to sell all it took was a little bump and a reach inside his front pocket to get what I was after I stuffed his paperwork inside my own coat

and settled off to the restroom to check out what I'd lifted first off the guy's passport was white like glowing white it. The gold letters on it weren't in any language I'd ever seen before, and instead of pages for stamps or personal details, there was just a single coin with seven circles around it.

I frowned. I was on my way to throw it in the trash, when all hell broke loose in the airport outside. There was so much security running around, I wondered if the Taliban were holding a convention in the food court. It wasn't the usual render cops either, but also the G.I. Joe types with their big-ass guns and some men-in-black-looking chumps with their earpieces and anchorman haircuts. They were stopping frisking people and nobody was getting out the front doors. It made me wonder just whose pocket I'd picked. Gave me an idea too. I figured I'd just walk up Border Patrol and flashed the guy's passport. If they let me through, I was in the clear. If not, I could always say I found the damn thing. Funny thing happened

when I held out the white passport. The renter cop got all slight-jawed and hazy-eyed. More than they usually are, I mean. She just waved me through. No stamp, no questions, no nothing. Everybody was waiting on me to go forward. So I did. Couple summers back, me and my cousins got drunk

and jumped off a railroad bridge into this nasty brown river that runs through town. Soon as I stepped off, I knew I made one big-ass mistake. It was way higher than we thought, and I spun like a windmill all the way down. I don't know how far I fell. It was far enough to count a lot of heartbeats. Anyhow, stepping through the security gate, fell sort of like diving into that river.

Suddenly, it was darker than the inside of a mobsless trunk, and I was falling, falling, till I came out on the other side. Might have taken a couple seconds, might have taken a couple years, I couldn't say. There was no heartbeat to count. Far as I could tell, I was still in the airport, except it was pitch black outside and there were no people, no guards, no arguing families or yoghurt shop cashiers or hippies and flip-flops running to catch a flight. Nobody. The music still played over the loudspeaker. the moving walkways and trams and escalators still ran.

So where the hell were all the people? For a sec, I even considered trying to turn back, but I didn't want to go through that darkness again. It seemed... Hungry. I started walking. What else could I do? For the first time in my life, I actually hoped...

No, prayed to see an authority figure. anybody who could help me or just tell me where I was going. Anything but endless fluorescent lights and tar floors. I kept going. I just didn't want to admit that the place I was in was actually truly infinite. I didn't want to admit that when I crossed that plastic barrier, I'd stepped out of the real world and into... someplace else.

So, I walked. I kept going a long time after my throat. felt like I gargled sandpaper and my legs turned to jelly. What I found when I gave up and went back though was even worse. The security checkpoint, the place had started from, was gone. No matter which way I looked, the endless hallway stretched on. The same forever in both directions.

I punched the wall, screamed for help, sat down, cried. Nothing made a difference. I don't know how much time passed. I just know that after a while, I got sort of crazy. I shattered glass and tried to dig through the wall with it. I yanked up the moving walkway and tried to crawl out through the gears underneath. I argued with myself. Apparently me and myself both think that I'm a real piece of work.

I was still hollering at nothing when the wind picked up. I didn't notice it at first. But it picked up quick, so much that I had to grip onto the guardrail to keep from getting carried off. I flew out to Vegas once to make a drop and the wind smell like the air out there. Dust, gasoline and the end of the world. It wasn't just empty air either. There were people in it. Or at least, they looked like they'd once been people.

They were thin and wearing rags like those in pictures of prison camp survivors. They tried to hang on to anything they could, even each other, but the wind just dragged them along. Cold fingers grabbed onto my hair, more caught in my pants. I was almost ripped off the guardrail. And then, they were gone. Sucked down that endless corridor like dust into a vacuum cleaner. I pulled myself up and looked at my reflection in the black glass stores to one of those inter-terminal trams. After who knows how long without food and water, I didn't look so different from those things.

With a ping, the tram door opened. I blinked. I couldn't believe it. I saw seats and poles for passengers, but no light, no way of telling where it went neither. I looked around. I didn't want to wait for another cloud of starving maniacs to come blowing down the hallway, and who knew when another tram would start. stop. I got in.

Soon as the doors closed, I wish I'd taken my chances with a hallway. The wagon started moving and I realized that I wasn't alone. Whispers all around, eyes in the dark, big, white, hungry eyes like junkies looking at a pile of coke. And I was it. Hands, hundreds of them, grabbing and pulling and shoving. My watch and shades were gone right away. They fought over my clothes till they ripped off my body. Even my damn shoes.

I wound up naked and curled up in that position that people always seem to curl into when they get stomped for missing a payment. This time though, it was me on the cold metal floor. They get pouring at me long after I had nothing left to take. Well, nothing except the weird passport. They didn't even try to take that. Another ping, the doors open,

and those horrible eyes and hands retreated into the shadows, like cockroaches beneath a kitchen light. I was shivering like a damn puppy when I crawled out into the terminal, scratched, bloody, and wearing nothing but my birthday suit. I fit right in. The terminal, I remembered, rows of vinyl chairs, big white columns, gates with desks and little screens like any airport, any place I guess.

It was the things walking around that made it so wrong. It was them that made me miss prison. The ones in line beside me looked normal enough till I realised their heads were turned around backwards like that girl from the exorcist. They shuffled forward, or backward, depending on how you look at it. All the same though, passports in hand.

Theirs was blood red. A tall thing in a red robe checked their papers as they passed. I was glad for its robe and its hood too because its hands and neck were awful long, inhuman long.

On the black screen behind it were eight red rings. I guess I must have been staring too long because I got this feeling like spiders crawling at my neck. I realised that all those backwoods people was slowly turning their heads my way.

The hooded thing at the gate looked interested too. Or hungry, more like. I wrapped my hand around my balls and got out of there like a cold, scared, beat up guy with a hand round his balls. Face front, I told myself, don't listen to the bloated dead things eat each other on the left, or look at the big ones with the whips with too many teeth. It's kind of like when I was a kid,

hiding in the closet, or dad laid into mom with a belt. You just got to keep quiet and hope that if you don't notice them, they won't notice you. Magical thinking, I guess it's called. A professor I robbed once was writing a book about it. Most of the black screens just showed rings. Three or six or two. A few had names, but they were in a funny language like the one from the guy's passport. Even when they came up in English, there were places I never heard of.

Where the hell is cockatus or dis? That last one caught my attention, because I recognised the guy at the desk. It was my old buddy, Rex, which was sort of funny, because the last time I saw Rex, he was at the bottom of a muddy hole with five bullets in his chest. But here he was, dressed in this weird flight attendant get-up, with a gunpowder smoke still rising out of the holes on his back. He was checking the docks of a guy in a suit whose head was on fire. Rex waved. I started heading over to him, right up. to the point where he was glad to see me. Sure, he said it like a guy talking to someone

who'd buried his body in a swamp, but that wasn't what made me turn and run. It was the extra jaw and the two tongues. Seeing Rex gave me the bright idea to check the guy's passport again. Maybe there was something in there I could use. There were seven rings around where the coin was, where the coin had been anyway. It was gone. Make me think that maybe it was like some kind of fee I'd paid to get here, though you have to be one real sick guy to pay for what I'd gone through. The coin was the key, and I was going to need another one. Problem was, none of the passengers seemed to have them.

Coins only appeared in the passport of... The other things. The ones with too many body parts, and all of them in the wrong places. The ones who smelt like hate and some... sulfur, the ones who'd rip me apart for fun. I was gonna have to do the biggest lift of my life to get out of there. I walked around in that awful crowd for a long time, before I saw an opening. The flash of a white passport like mine.

Only there was something shiny inside of it. I closed in on the thing holding it. I figured I tried to bump it, but it slipped the passport back between its folds. and when I reached for it the thing's skin was so hot that it burned me I guess I got lucky because it didn't seem to notice once I got to the point that I didn't want to

puke from seeing, hearing and smelling the place I was able to notice a couple details about the place firstly most of the passengers seem to be outbound while the uh others were mostly inbound or some kind of security

almost all of them had passports with coins I was watching them from behind one of those big white columns when I finally saw my break a thing like a huge centipede with a human head tried to eat one of the passengers it lifted this fat dead guy into the air with one claw and its jaw dropped to the floor ready to swallow the guy whole

a bullheaded thing with a meat cleaver didn't like that one bit and pretty soon they were fighting over the poor guy I didn't watch him get shredded because I saw what I wanted between the centre-beat things scales A white passport, just like mine There was a big crowd by then

So it wasn't hard to get close I made it look like I was knocked into the centre-beet things back When I bumped against it I swapped its passport for mine And fell down amongst the skittering legs I rolled out of their fast But not fast enough to avoid getting a nasty gash down my back I cut up though and staggered toward the tram with nobody wiser

Far as I could tell at least Nothing bothered me as long as I was holding a coin in passport I stepped onto the dark tram and thought about home I thought about the dirty brown river and the board renter cops in the airport I thought about the weeds and the sidewalk on the run down street where I lived I thought about my stained old mattress laying on the floor of my tiny apartment seemed like heaven all of a sudden. The tram rumbled into motion, and when I heard it ping again,

I was back in the airport I knew. Of course, I was arrested for public indecency, but I didn't care. Hell, I don't think I even noticed. I wanted to kiss that cop on the cheek. From the gum on the sidewalk to the smog over the city, it was all beautiful. Damn beautiful. wasn't long to my cousin bailed me out.

You should have seen the look when I hugged him. He dropped me off here at the apartment to think. Thing is, the mark I stole the passport from, looked like an ordinary guy. Makes you think how many other things out there that look human, but aren't. Maybe the thing is still out there, looking for a coin or something to trade, trying to get itself back to wherever it came from. And that ain't all. Maybe I'm just going nuts,

but I think I feel crawling under the cut, the centipede thing made on my back, like there's a bunch of little worms in there with lots of legs. It's like I hear them in my head, telling me, I gotta go back to the airport.