CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - ”They took all the nails, screws, and plugs” Creepypasta

Episode Date: November 28, 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...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 used to work as a janitor and a mid-sized college in Minnesota. Some people might consider this to be cheap labor, which is a crappy job. But I enjoyed my time there a lot. The students were nice to me, and I was invited to attend any class and event that I wanted. I can honestly say it was one of the best jobs I've ever had. At first, I thought I was going to have a problem with it. I injured both my legs in a car accident a few years ago. I got titanium plates and everything.

it was serious. Both shin bones were pretty much shattered and the knees were even worse. Still, I was lucky. You should have seen the other guy or what was left of him. Working in maintenance and being on your feet eight hours a day

can be exhausting. I get these aches deep in my bones at times where it just feels like my legs are screaming. It has gotten better over the years and just keeping up a healthy routine of working out my legs really helps. Mostly stationary. bikes and nighttime jogging.

I live close to the college, so I usually walk there and home again after work. Sometimes I jogged there at night. It was a late November night during one of these jogs that I noticed the equipment shared next to the football field was wide open. I always logged that up tight, as we've had problems with break-ins in the past. I knew for a fact that it had been locked, as I'd assembled the shelf there earlier that day. We've gotten some new equipment. too long ago, so the place was ripe for the picking for a thief in the know.

I typed the emergency number my phone, put my finger on the dial and walked up to the shed. As soon as I got closer, I noticed something was wrong. The door had been taken off the hinges. The walls had been stripped clean and the metal shelves were laying in shambles on the floor. Even the new one. Everything had been dismantled and stripped down to bare materials. Whoever did it must have been there for hours. hours. They must have started just as I left work. Maybe they even waited for me to leave.

I called it in and stepped inside to see if anything had been stolen. Even the screw on the bottom of the light bulb was gone, so the entire thing had fallen out of the socket and shattered against the floor. I stepped over broken glass, trying to explain to the operator that the college had been vandalized. They asked if anything had been stolen, but I didn't know what to say. I'm not sure, I said, there's lots of debris. I was just on my way out when I noticed something in the corner of the room. A glass jar full to the brim with nails, screws and plugs, everything taken out of shelves and furniture. The police didn't know what to make of it. It was vandalism, sure, but nothing had been stolen. It all seemed to point at some sort of prank, something to mess

with the janitor. Still, that didn't seem likely. I'd been on the receiving end of pranks before, but this was just... Weird. I'd never heard of anything like it. Some of the pieces that were dismantled couldn't be fixed, so it was just destruction of property. That's not a prank. That's just malicious. It didn't take long for the whole thing to calm down.

Students and faculty all stopped talking about it, but to me it was still a mystery. I started double-checking the college at night just to see that there was no automatic lights triggering where there shouldn't be. No big deal, I thought, until I noticed the light in the faculty lounge one Thursday night. It had only been a week. Cleaning up the shed had been a pain in the ass, and they didn't want to do the same with the faculty lounge. If that really was the Vandals, they'd be sorry. I once again dialed the emergency number and got ready to make the call, but first I was going to check it out myself.

Walking around the college at night is scary. It is dark and the halls echo. I had access to all the keys and hurried up the stairs. There were electronic locks further up, so whoever went up there had to have a key card. I hurried to the faculty lounge. The lights had turned off automatically, so whoever'd been there wasn't around anymore. Or maybe the bulbs had fallen out of their sockets again. The moment I stepped into the faculty lounge, all hell broke loose.

Lights fell from overhead, furniture collapsed. The fridge fell over, spilling ingredients all over the floor. Wall-mounted cupboards fell apart. Everything on the walls fell simultaneously. Pictures, paintings, diplomas, and the white board for scheduling. Even the coat rack next to me fell apart. Pieces of wood smattering against the plastic tiles. This sink started spewing water all over the floor.

In the blink of an eye, it was all over. I could barely breathe. I swear I almost had a goddamn heart attack. I'm the kind of person who gets agitated by loud noises, so I couldn't do much else than to scream in frustration. No one was there to hear it. And there, on top of the pieces of a fancy new couch, was a large glass jar of nails, screws and plugs. What the hell? This time, everyone took it more seriously.

The police got involved. We checked security cameras, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. We checked the ID of everyone who'd entered the building. but there was nothing. The only conclusion they could come up with is that whoever did it had slipped in with the rest of the students and just stayed late.

If they climbed out through the window, we could have missed them on the cameras. I did try to strike up the occasional conversation with students around the campus about it. There were lots of rumours flying around. Someone thought there was a corpse under the shed and that they'd moved it, that all of this was just a cover-up to distract from the first dig.

Another student thought he was crackards, looking for copper to steal. One rumor was that he was someone psyching people out before a school shooting. Dark stuff, all of it. The one thing I heard that felt plausible was the suggestion that it was a ticked-off student, someone who'd been wronged by the faculty and wanted to do something. It was a Friday afternoon when I accidentally ran into the dean of admissions in the cafeteria. I asked if she could think of any angry students, but she laughed it off.

To her, it was obvious what I was referring to. You're talking about the Lassett girl, right? She said. That was over a year ago. I don't think she'd wait an entire year to get back of the staff. Lasset? Lassett who? Lorraine Lassett, she clarified.

Skinny white girl got kicked out of a dorm about a year ago. Why? What happened? She was basically squatting. She hadn't paid a tuition. and she refused to leave. She made a huge scene. They had to drag her out of the dorms.

I had no idea. I'd worked there for three years, but I'd never heard about it. Apparently, it had happened over Christmas, when I'd been out of town visiting my family. It sure sounded like something you'd be mad about. Maybe not mad enough to start dismantling school property, but it was a start. I asked around about it,

and most students were uncomfortable even talking about it. It had been heartbreaking, just a long series of bad luck. Her dad, a truck driver, had been in an accident. A car had swerved in front of him and he'd run them straight off the road. It was horrific. The details surrounding the accident was spotty at best. He'd gone crazy with grief and soon afterwards he'd gone missing. They found him drowned frog-like, a solid four-hour walk from his house.

As he'd been fired, he'd lost most of his health insurance. His estranged wife, Lorraine's ex-stepmother, got most of his belongings. Lorraine was left with little to nothing. She lost the scholarship and she couldn't keep a grade averageer. She missed a lot of classes and another student was showing promise. So she suddenly had a tuition to pay for. Apparently she tried to pay with her savings. This big glass jar full of pennies and silver dollars.

Instead, she was kicked out, jar and all. They just put her out on the street. The only thing she had left was the screwdriver her dad had left as they put together this cheap IKEA closet for a dorm room a while back. She desperately wanted to take it home with her but wasn't allowed to go back in to get it. Campus was off limits. She was standing barefoot in the cold,

calling out to what she thought were her friends. No one came forward. She just waved the screwdriver around until the police took her away. All around, Lorraine Lassett had plenty of reasons to be mad about. Luckily, no one had heard anything from her in a while. Most figured she'd moved out to state to stay with her cousins. I remember that closet.

Cheap white plastic and plywood. I carried it down to her storage a few weeks after she was kicked out. Yet I never heard this story of why it was down there in the first place. Students leave stuff behind all the time. An IKEA closet is nothing. You know how many bongs I find. It's embarrassing. Later that day, as classes were closing up, I decided to go down to the storage and check the closet out myself.

There was this huge cellar storage, some kind of remade bomb shelter from the 50s, basically a series of interlocking hallways with scattered little rooms every now and then. You could get lost down there easily. I wouldn't. I'd been there a thousand times, but there were plenty of reasons why that place was locked up. Good thing, I had a key. The place was darker than a tomb. I had a flashlight on my phone to help me, but it only shone a few feet ahead of me.

I could see the dust dancing around me. I'm sure there was something downright toxic down there. I could almost taste it. Mold, probably. It didn't take me long to find the room. It was full of old wooden desks, a blackboard, some half-rodden student furniture, and, in the far left corner, a cheap IKEA closet.

it. I didn't know what to expect. I just walked up to it and opened it. There was a screwdriver in it. I just stood there, looking at it for a few seconds. I admit, I was creeped out. Then I started hearing this eerie, metallic sound, scraping, little tinks of metal against the floor. All around me, screws are falling out of the wooden desks. One by one, they tapped against the floor, as everything in the room started to break apart and unmake itself. The desks, the blackboard, the goddamn floor mouldings in the corner, the springs of an old bed unfurling into curved spikes. Things were unraveling all around me. I turned to take the screwdriver, wanting to arm myself. But there was another hand holding it. She had not been in that closet a few seconds ago. She wasn't just pale, she was

frozen solid. Her long blonde hair was tangled and chunks of it fallen out. She was sickly thin, wearing a torn and stained yellow summer dress. Her feet and hands black from frostbite, twisted like twigs. Her lips were blue, pulled back in a skeleton smile. Her eyes were gone, leaving red and swollen skin in their place. I panicked. Holding up a hand to assure myself, I fell backwards, tumbling over the remains of an old wooden desk. I sprained something in my back. It was a snapping sound. but it didn't come from me. Lorraine's knee was bent the wrong way.

She fell face forward, smacking her head straight into the concrete floor, just an arm's length away from my face. Like a marionette puppet being pulled up with invisible strings, she slowly rose from the floor. Broken or not, she was coming for me. She was breaking apart, and all the furniture in the room fell apart with her.

The only thing not budging was a grip on that screwdriver. I had to try something. Foursing myself up, I ran for the exit, passing by just a few feet. Black and twig-like fingers brushed against my shoulder. Her footsteps made just the tiniest clinking noise, like porcelain tapping on a rock. I reached the hallway before my sprained back betrayed me. I fell forward, screaming in pain as I hit the floor, hard. She followed me, one snapping joint at a time.

As she reached the doorway, she just stopped to stare at me. as I tried to put some distance between us. I tried leaning against the wall to get back of my feet. Ironic, that with two busted legs, it'd be my back failing me. I didn't understand what was happening at first. It was just this pressure, a nerve pinch, and I lost control of my left leg. Then, a cramp. Still leaning against the wall, I slid to the floor, clutching my knee.

The titanium screws in my plated knees, they were being pulled out of my goddamn skin. I couldn't do anything but to scream. Lorraine didn't move a muscle. She just stood there, pointing the screwdriver at me, waiting for my legs to dismantle themselves. I screamed into my throat bled, those dead eyes looking straight through me, into something deep in me, something primal. I just felt this swelling, all-consuming panic as my knees split open, and I lost consciousness. Somewhere in the darkness between death and life, I heard the clinking of nails, screws and plugs being dropped into a glass jar.

I was found half frozen the next day and taken to the emergency room. No matter my witness statement, they figured I'd walked down there and got myself lost. They'd never tried to explain the screws missing from my knees. They did find titanium screws in that glass jar, but there was no blood on them. Apparently, Lorraine just wanted the screws, not my blood or my life. No one even attempted to explain that stuff. Before I handed in my resignation, I looked up the rest of Lorraine's story. Apparently she'd been close to keeping a grade average up, despite the tragic loss of her father.

The college had increased the score limit. This was done to appease a donor whose son wanted to get in on a scholarship. He didn't need it, but there was a certain prestige to it. The donation more than covered for the scholarship itself and a sizable compensation. Remember how I mentioned we'd gotten new equipment? Yeah, this was why. The shelf I'd installed that first night when the shed by the football field was torn apart had been the final item we'd bought with that donation.

Apparently, Lorraine had waited until it was all set up before she started tearing it down. To the best of my knowledge, Lorraine is still out there. I'm sure if someone were to look closely, they find a body in Frog Lake, right where her dad passed away. The only difference between them was that no one came looking for her. That college has been in the papers because of this a few times. They're downplaying it for the media, but I know they're worried. I know they're getting my warnings and emails. And once I get out of this goddamn wheelchair, I'll be sure to let them all have it for ignoring me.

But another part of me wants to just hide. to crawl into some dark corner and hope no one sees me. I sometimes imagine hearing the screws loosened from my bed, and I can feel myself falling as the springs fail. Sometimes I imagine the kitchen cupboards feeling loose, ready to fall out. I know it can't all be real, I know it can't, but I also know what I saw that night. And now, I'm not so sure about anything anymore.

Thank you.