CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "Today I traversed the depths of the Uncanny Valley. I barely got out alive" Creepypasta

Episode Date: May 12, 2021

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by HomelessWafer: 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-

Sometimes the past comes calling when you don't expect it. A picture, a mention of a name, even a small memento can bring memories rushing back like a joint popping back into place. It feels like something returning to where it belongs after you've forgotten what it was like to have it there. But its return to its natural state feels strange somehow. That is how I felt when I received the phone call

just yesterday as I drove back to my old home in northern Pennsylvania. When my phone started ringing, I jumped with a surprise. I had been zoning out from driving back and forth, up and down, on the endless hills of this forever road. Besides, no one ever called me. I picked my phone from the seat next to me. The caller ID took me by surprise. No data. Wasn't the point of this thing to tell me who was calling, so I would know a scammer from a friend who just got my number?

shaking my head, I answered the phone. I could use the company, even if it was a robot trying to tell me my car warranty was about to expire. Hello? I asked. Hello, came the reply. Is this Jeremy? The voice sounded so familiar, but I couldn't place it. Definitely, not a robocall. But there was too much distortion to fully make it out.

Yes, this is him. am I speaking to? Come on, I thought for sure you'd remember me, intoned the walked crackly voice sadly. I sat for a second in silence, racking my brain to find a place for that voice. Was it my friend Peter's father? I'd only spoken to him once, and didn't see any reason for him to be calling me. Perhaps Dr. John, my family doctor as a child, it was my birthday after all. Then it hit me.

I smacked myself on the forehead. for not thinking of it sooner. Oh, Mr. Johnson from the Ferguson Call Center. How could I forget? I hadn't worked at that place in over a decade, had hardly even thought about it since I went to college for a real job. Sure, I'd had fun times there, but it was just one of those summer jobs that you leave behind and forget about once it's over.

Yeah, I knew you'd remember us, Jeremy. The voice became jovial and warm, as it had always been. Listen, I heard that the grapevine, you're coming back to town to see some old friends for your birthday. Is that right? Yeah, I'm driving back now. She'll be there in a few hours if these hills ever end, I laughed. It was good to hear a familiar voice. It's my niece's birthday as well. We figured this year we'd celebrate together. Capital, son, just capital. You should drop by to visit us at the old brick and mortar. There'll be plenty of people happy to see you.

His expectant pause only lasted a second before my acquiescence comes. Sure, I'll drop by, see how the old place is doing. Place is still standing, son. And... The distortion ramped up, rendering all but the barest tone of his voice audible. What was that? Sorry, the call is acting up. His voice came slightly more into focus, and I thought he said, Oh, never mind, see you when you get here.

don't think I'll be allowed to tell you anyway. Bye. See you then. And I hung up. The rest of the drive went a little quicker knowing that I had some old friends to see. When I finally arrived at my parents' house, they and the rest of the family were ecstatic to see me. I was kept too busy from work most of the time to visit, and I'll admit I hadn't been the best at keeping in contact. The event was catered and the hours passed by quickly, until I suddenly remember the call from Mr. Johnson. Hey, Ma, I'm going to visit some friends at Ferguson's. Guess they heard I was coming to town.

I gave my mother a hug. She replied bemusedly, I haven't heard of that old place since you left for college. They must not be doing so well. That or the fact I never go out that way. It's rather out the way. Her brow wrinkled in thought for a second. I don't know how they might have heard you were coming to.

to town. I don't think I've ever met them. From the great fine I guess, hard to tell with Mr Johnson. Bye, Mom, love you. The drive to the building was a strange one. Things look so different and yet the same. More houses, but not many. A few missing, now vacant lots for sale, like teeth that had fallen out and were waiting expectantly to be replaced. The road still had many of the same old pottles, I swear I could remember to the letter. It felt different, though, as a somewhat successful doctor to be driving this old road, I'd last been on as a destitute teenager. I had taken the job to save a college, as my parents didn't have enough to help me on my way.

That was why I'd taken a job so distant. Even with a bike, it had been a long journey. When I pulled into the parking lot, I was shocked. The building was nothing lost. I remembered. Sure, it still had red bricks and large, old-fashioned windows, but the similarities ended there. Ivy climbed up the edges of the building up to the roof, and the wall was filled with holes. I looked through the shattered windows into the dingy rooms beyond, and barely repressed a shiver. What the hell happened here? They must have moved sights. Maybe that's

what he was trying to tell me when the core quality dropped. I combed through the, my recent calls to ask him what this was all about. But with all the calls, with well-wishes and birthday messages, I couldn't find which one was his. I shook my head and put my phone back in my pocket. He'd call when he got closer to closing time, and then I'd be out of here. It looked like I'd some time to kill.

You've seen better days, haven't you, old friend? I spoke to the crooked sign for Ferguson's, as if it could reply. There was no one around to hear me. and why not? The building had been a good place for a teenager, looking anywhere he could for money. It made it possible to move on to better things,

so when I'd indulge my imagination a little. I paced around the parking lot aimlessly, kicking my heels on the asphalts with every step, waiting for the call that would tell me where to go from here. It didn't come, and I found myself facing back towards the doors of the derelict old building. I felt a strange tug into me and slowly fill me until I felt I was about to burst. Fine, I'll go inside, just one last time, I hoffed at the building.

It might have been morbid curiosity, but it beat standing around here. I'd explored plenty of ruined old buildings in my time, like the old school in the neighbouring township, rotting but unburied. I stepped inside those open doors, and was immediately beset by the musty, smells of mold and mildew. I gagged and pulled my shirt off my nose, which somewhat helped. The pictures hanging in the entryway had fallen down, and lay leaning back against the wall or face down on the floor. For some reason, they reminded me of the patrons of a bar near closing time, and I chuckled

to myself. I wonder whether they didn't take these things with them to the new site, I muttered to myself. They would have been worth some money, so it could be that the core centre was an business at all, new sight or no. Maybe Mr. Johnson was trying to tell me his home address where he'd invited some of royal co-workers. In the midst of these wanderings, I wasn't paying much attention to my surroundings. I was brought back with a crunch under my foot. I looked down before I thought I might not want to see what I'd stepped on. It was a decomposing rat, near to finishing his journey back to the earth. I stepped off of it and felt some

pile rise for a second before settling back down. As I turn my thoughts away from tiny broken bones and what liquids must now be in my shoe. I wiped my shoe on a nearby patch of moss and moved on. I gazed into the rooms I passed curiously. One room looked like a miniature nature habitat, moss growing on the floors amid pieces of ceiling tiles and broken glass. Another room was piled with teetering stacks of tables and chairs

as if someone had just left them there and never come back. I was surprised that there was no graffiti in this place. Most places that were abandoned attracted teenagers who like to leave their mark, which usually included triple sixes and swear words. This place just looked forgotten, like a bird in a quiet room, lying cold and undisturbed on the floor of its cage. I sidestepped some holes in the floor and came to the next room. It held a strange beauty.

It had beams of sunlight shining in from the bro. broken windows, with birds fluttering about to somewhere above the ceiling tiles. This had been Dave Johnson's office. I'd come here often to chat with him about particularly difficult customers, or just to shoot the breeze during my breaks. He always seemed to have time, even for a whiny teenager. I smiled wistfully and moved on. A sudden distant clatter startled me, and I froze in place.

Was somebody in here? some small-time gangster selling drugs, a squatter. A shudder passed through me. If there's one thing I'd learned during urban exploration is to steer clear of any people you might encounter in one of these places. You never know what kind of person you're going to run into, so why take that chance? I should have left right then.

But it was quiet. Maybe it was a bird that had knocked a knick-knack off of someone's desk. After a minute of silence, I assumed it was just that and moved on. down the hallway. Wait, I did hear something, but I couldn't make it out. It was too high-pitched for speech. But could it be music? It was coming from the direction of the meeting room,

and I felt it drawing me forward. I hardly glanced at the rooms I passed anymore, only glancing away from those double doors at the end of the hall to watch for nails and broken glass. The sound became clearer and clearer. It was definitely music, maybe from a music box, playing a familiar melody I couldn't place. I had to get closer. I pushed open one of the heavy wooden doors and nearly had my heart stop when I saw a person shape in the corner.

I jerked my hand off the door and the door closed with a thump, which I immediately regretted. I didn't think they'd seen me. They hadn't even turned around when the door squeaked open. Maybe I was just overreacting, seeing human shapes just because I was expecting to. I eased the door open a crack and could tell immediately that it wasn't a person at all. It was a large mannequin standing next of the counter, facing away from me. I breathed to sigh for relief. Manikins weren't my favourite thing, but it was a far cry from the man with a knife waiting to stab me.

The music played on, still muffled. by the thick door, and I pushed open the door to hear it fully. My focus lapsed off the music by what I saw in front of me. The conference table sat in its all place, but it wasn't what I was looking at. Rather, I was looking at what was in the chairs. Every chair but two had a fully clothed mannequin sitting in it. I felt my stomach drop, somehow sickened. As I walked around the table with Morby curiosity,

swelling in me, I saw that every one of the mannequins had been arranged looking at each other. The stiff hands on pens and paper before them or raising up as if making a point. The one at the end of the table, a darker-skinned one, looked caught

in the middle of straightening a stack of yellowed papers. I felt like I walked into a scene frozen in time. What kind of sicko would go through this much work in an abandoned building to simulate an office meeting? The one in the corner was even putting a tea bag in a cup of tea for goodness sake. Still, a strange sense of

deja vu crept into me at the surreal sight. Those clothes looked, somehow familiar. The purple Christmas sweater on the black-haired one on the far side. A green thread-best sweater vest of the tall one with a brown hair. The navy business suit on the figure at the end of the table with a rotary phone off its hook. I was taken aback by the realization that came rushing in. They looked just like, my old co-workers, caught in the middle of a meeting, with only me unaccounted for. This had to be some kind of prank put on by my old co-workers, at least I hoped. No, it was impossible that any of them had set it up. But what are the chances that some mischievous teens had come in here with a bunch of mannequins

and not only dressed them in the right clothes, but placed them on the right places at the table? I shook my head to dispel the images of monkeys typing on typewriters and took a closer look. One loop around the lot of them, then two. On every pass I noticed more details, a pair of dangling earrings, cat hair and a sweater, fresh coffee in every cup. This was getting ridiculous. Why go into this level of detail? I poked one of the mannequins in the shoulder.

Honestly, the unsettling presence of the mannequins would have been enough to put me on edge. There is something unnatural about things that look like people, almost perfect but from missing breath. I hated it. I called out suddenly, a loud noise to flush out any people dressed as mannequins, to physically startle them enough to see if they jump. Nothing. The quiet was really getting to me. guys if you're going to surprise me just get it over already still nothing i eyed the walls and ceiling for any hidden cameras but came up dry what the hell was going on any pranks the worth his stuff would have leapt out by now not keeping me waiting for so long the music entered my awareness once more i'd stopped noticing it but the music had kept playing this whole time just on the music had kept playing this whole time just on the music

the edge of my awareness. And, I recognized it. A tinkling rendition of, happy birthday to you, jingled menacingly through the open door into the next room. Was that where they were all hiding, choking to themselves of their prank? It was the only rational explanation. Anything else I gult, suddenly aware of my dry mouth. I tiptoed past the mannequins at the long table towards the open door of the break room. I could see nothing through the open door. It was on the far side of the break room. I needed to cross that threshold to solve the mystery.

When I finally could bring myself to do it, I locked into the room and saw a simple music box, sitting comfortably next to a chocolate cake with a large lit candle. The song played to a close, and it was quiet once more. I stared at it. it and then laughed my heart out. All that for this. No jumping out to scare my skin off. No laughter at my expense. No revealing the hidden cameras. My heart rate began to slow and I called out, Thank you, you, you're sick freaks. Now where are you hiding? As soon as the words left

my lips, there was another loud crash behind me and I joked around, still reacting with the adrenaline left in my system. Every mannequin in that room. was now looking in my direction, all facing fully towards me. And they were now stiffly holding different poses. Many crumbled into themselves in a paroxysm of mirth, fists in the middle of striking their legs or the table. There was no way someone had rearranged all of those mannequins so quickly. It was impossible. The one with a sweater vest had its head thrown back in the attitude of uproarous laughter.

Just like... Andy? Its mouth was now stretched wide open to unleash its silent laugh. Goose bumps erupted all over my skin, and that's when I knew it. My co-workers had been right here the whole time. The uncanny valley had stretched too far, and I had had enough of it. My knees trembled like they were about to buckle, but my legs were moving almost before I thought of running. I clipped the standing mannequin, who's the standing mannequin, who's not.

been making tea as I ran past and nearly fell over. The thing was frighteningly solid, much more than a stall mannequin. These things were definitely something else. As I heave aside the double doors from the conference room, I can hear something I can't explain. A rapid noise, off-tempo sound reminiscent of a thousand fingers drumming started up on every service around me. As I ran, more frantic than ever,

the whole building began quivering intensely. a ceiling tile, then two more, was shaken down to the floor. I ran down the hallway, just barely missing the holes in the floor with my feet. There are more of them now, in the floor, in the walls, and through each I could see blank eyes pressed against the cracks, watching me. I was having trouble keeping balance with how violently the building was vibrating. The gaze of those creatures from all those holes was filling me with a strange dread. I didn't know what they were watching me for. Were they simply interested, or were they about to break through the walls and floor?

Did they want to keep me here? I tripped headlong as I passed the hole at ankle level. My hand stretched out to catch myself, collided with the glass exit door and shattered it. I didn't feel a thing. I was back on my feet in a second. I couldn't see whether it was an arm that sprung from the hole or a painting of the floor. I was too filled with adrenaline and pain to care. I hurriedly fumble my keys from my pocket, started the car and took off, not looking back.

I've been blindly driving through the night, back south to my apartment. Though the world around me no longer shakes, I still find myself trembling. I got a call while flying blindly down the dark road from an unknown number. I didn't answer it. Upon stopping just now at a 24-hour gas station to fill up my empty tank, I finally opened my voicemail to listen to the message. I had the sounds of a room full of uproarous laughter, distorted as before, but the words came through clearly with none of the previous warmth.

Why don't you drop in again sometime, Jeremy? We miss you already.