CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "There's something wrong with my blood" Creepypasta

Episode Date: May 15, 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►boxoffrogs: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/18...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 grew up in a small community in the south of Minnesota called St. Gaul. We were eight families, all loosely related. Uncalls and aunts from both sides of the family, along with grandparents and two outsider families, not directly related by blood. It was a remnant of the hippie era, and my mother grew up out there. It was originally meant to be some sort of farming commune for people who wanted to live on their own terms without going completely off the grid. It isn't like a religious gathering or a cult, as many believe. It was all about a different way of life and living closer to the earth. My mother left St. Gull for a few years to study sociology, and that's where she met my dad.

I was an accidental pregnancy, and my dad didn't want to stick around. My mother moved back to St. Gull and had me in the early 90s. I was born in the house I grew up in. life out in St. Gall wasn't as odd as one might think. I still went to school. I just had to take an earlier bus. We still went into town at least once a week, and I had many friends that I got really close to over the years. Still, there was always that air of being different around me.

My mom explained that a lot of the parents of the kids at school didn't like the people from St. Gall, because we were different, a bit odd. My mom was terrified of a lot of things, but mostly blood. That was her number one fear, and if I ever hurt myself, she would try cover it up as fast as possible. It was strange, because I saw kids skin their needs at school all the time without anyone freaking out. I never hurt myself like that, since my mom was adamant about me being needlessly careful. It came to the point where I sometimes had to wet. elbow knee guards to school, which landed me in plenty of trouble from bullies.

But my childhood came and went. Elementary school turned into middle school, which turned into high school. Things got rough then, fast. On the best days, I was a gall kid, but most of the time, they just called me Jesus freak, cultist, or even school shooter. I was branded an outsider without there ever really being a reason. I guess that's just what it's like being a teenager. I also refused to take the precautions my mother asked me to. I stopped wearing an elbow and knee guards the gym class.

Our teacher had a deal where kids could go to the gym instead of playing team sports, but I was tired of being separated. I'd compromise with my mom by wearing several layers of clothes, but I'd usually just wait for her to be out of sight before I took something off. If she ever knew I was pretty good at both soccer and basketball. basketball, she'd have a heart attack. It was during those few P.E. classes that I started noticing something was different about me.

Sure, we're all still growing up, but I was growing a bit different. I was almost completely hairless in comparison to the other boys, and my hair was growing lighter. I'd gone from brown hair to strawberry blonde in about two years. I would also start to notice a weird smell coming from the other boys. they really stank It took me several weeks to notice that they weren't actually the ones who were different I was

They smelled like people were supposed to smell But my sweat on the other hand Was sweeter Not necessarily in a good way But just weirdly sweet By comparison Not sugary But more like the smell of thick dairy

I hadn't thought about it I just figured that was the way sweat was supposed to smell. It wasn't. I made one friend in high school. Darren. Short guy, who dropped in and out of social clicks like it was his job. I talked to him about it and asked him to smell me. Weird, I know.

And he agreed that something was off. He convinced me to talk to the school nurse, thinking it might be something like diabetes. I was scared he'd tell someone about it, but he never did. good guy. I had a long chat with a school nurse, Anita. She was very reassuring.

Apparently, puberty can have all sorts of weird effects on the human body. A sweet smell coming from your sweat was hardly the worst she'd seen, or in this case smelled. It was weird, sure, but this was a weird time to be a human. Still, she decided to run a few blood tests just to make sure my iron levels and white blood cells were okay. As soon as she poked the needle through my arm, she recoiled and crinkled the nose. The syringe dropped to the floor, and I got up.

She got a tissue and started to blow her nose repeatedly, over and over. What the hell was that? she exclaimed. What did you... I had no idea what she was talking about. I looked at the drop of blood poking out my arm, and I didn't notice anything odd. I just put a band-aid on it while Anita tried to regain her composure. Come back, uh, come back tomorrow, she coughed. We'll talk more, okay?

But she was sick the next day. I felt uncomfortable with the whole thing, and I wanted to talk to my mom about it, but I also didn't want her to get worried. When you have someone in your life that is always on the breaking point, you make a habit out of stepping carefully. It took Nurse Anita the rest of the school week before she returned to a job. I was immediately summoned to the nurse's office.

She'd lost weight, a lot of it. She was drinking water from a large bottle when I got there, and she had dark markings around her eyes. She didn't seem well, but she lit up as she looked at me. Anita asked me for a new blood test, and I agreed. She lined up four syringes. Her hands were shaking, but she regained a focus once the needle got closer to my arm. Step by step, she filled the syringes, but she seemed to get more and more excited as she did.

I can swear she was sniffing at my neck. The whole thing was weird, and I left as soon as she gave me a band-aid. She promised to run some tests and let me know as soon as she was done, but she wanted me to return at least once a week for a check-up. Apparently, sweet-smelling sweat was a bigger deal than I'd anticipated. I asked her if I should see a doctor, but she just shook her head. As I left the nurse's office, I looked back.

She was standing at the doorway, staring at me from across the hall. Her eyes never left mine. She was staring at my neck, drinking from a water bottle. This time, I told my mom, I had no idea how much she would overreact. Instead of talking,

to Nurse Anita, she pulled me out of school the same day. She threw our entire lives into boxes, breaking at least half of our dinnerware in the process. In less than a weekend, she packed up everything and hired a truck. I barely had time to hug my grandparents goodbye before we were out of town. I was forced to switch phone number, and my mother swore that if I didn't remove my social media accounts, she would smash every touchscreen we owned. I'd never seen her like that before. I was terrified. That's how we ended up in Sabre, Michigan. Of course, my mom couldn't check on me all day long.

I did get time to check in on my social media. Darren, still in disbelief about me leaving so soon, told me things had gotten weird at school. Nurse Anita had started asking questions about where I'd moved, and when the principal couldn't reveal that information, she'd gotten aggressive. The police got involved, and it was revealed that she'd taken my bloods

samples home. Things got unclear at this point, but Darren, whose mom works at the sheriff's office, had spoken over dinner about Nurse Anita apparently drinking blood straight from the syringes. But that wasn't all. In the days that followed, she was taken into custody. She was doing some sort of hunger strike and couldn't even keep down water. She actually died from dehydration, right there in the county jail, surrounded by paramedic. trying to understand why your body was actively resisting an IV. By now, my mom and I had settled in at a small three-bed apartment. I confronted her about Nurse Anita and what had happened.

My mom finally opened up to me. You know what Capsaicin is? she asked. It is the thing in spicy food that makes your tongue and throat hurt. It is a kind of self-defense thing that just... It's supposed to make us stay away. I'd heard about it, and I was aware of the concept. This thing that is supposed to make us stay away just makes it more...

enticing, she explained. People can get addicted to it. To many, it has the opposite of the intended effect. It became something to be desired, instead of something that protects the plant. Do you understand what I'm telling you? I sort of was. I didn't want to think I was,

but I was. Our family is different, she told me. I was hoping this wouldn't happen to you, but it did, and we had to move. She really did try to bring me a normal life.

She tried not to worry. But whatever is inside me was growing extremely potent. I started to understand why our family had lived isolated and why she wanted me to be careful around the others. As a kid,

it wasn't as dangerous, but as a teenager, it was stronger than ever. That's why, even I was noticing my own smells. They'd gotten stronger. But, for years past, my mom got a job at a gas station, and I helped out as a farmhand and cherry picker. Things were going pretty well, all things considered. Until last year, I was picking up my mom from the night shift, early in the morning, when a truck on the opposite lane ran a red light.

We were hit. It wasn't a bad hit, but it was bad enough to send us into a spin and into a nearby ditch. Mom had been looking through a purse and smashed the head against the passenger window, and I head-bashed the steering wheel. The passenger side of the rear half of the car was folded like origami. I barely even remember what happened next. I remember the truck driver coming to check on Mom. only to drag her out on the pavement.

I remember paramedics and a police car. I remember eyes looking at me, delirious and dark. Open, bloody mouths, tendons snapping, a sweet, flowery smell, drowning out the gasoline pouring from the car. Red, I remember seeing a half-eaten face, slowly being torn apart. Eyes that used to comfort me, having lost their light. A slack-jawed nightmare, having clothes and limbs, torn apart and spayed on the concrete like a flattened toad.

I don't remember much about getting away. I was chased through a field of wheat, and I threw up in a water bucket next to a well. I hid in a barn and covered myself in hay to dampen the smell of my blood. I remember a flashlight passing over me as three people left, desperately looking somewhere else. Bloody mouths still chewing. Pupils so large, their eyes looked black. They were barely even breathing. Their breaths so short I couldn't see their chests move.

I made it. I would never speak of this in person, as I don't want to risk anyone finding me. I've moved twice since that incident, and I'm starting to understand what I am. The problem is, I've started to get cataracts. I know it is at an early stage, but it is definitely there, and it is progressing rapidly. I'm going to need surgery. Someone has to operate on me, and I just...

I fear I'll never wake up from that surgery. I have no idea what to do. I can't live like this, constantly fearing someone will get too close and catch a whiff of me. No wonder my mom had to leave my dad. No wonder she was always afraid. You're all hunting me. You just don't know it yet.