CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "We should've bought the damn frogs" Creepypasta

Episode Date: May 23, 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 live in a small town called Tomscarck, Minnesota. It ain't a big town, but it is what I've learned to call home. Just south of Fergus Falls, just north of St. Gall. I want to share something weird about this town that started just a few months after we moved in, and it has been getting progressively worse. I think I have things under control as it stands, but I'm not sure,

and I think I can use your opinion on this. My family and I moved here in 2019. I got a job at one of the larger warehouses on the outskirts of town, biggest refrigerator warehouse in the state. I moved here with my wife, Laura, and two daughters, Beth and Jane, all the way from Chicago. We all agreed on one thing where we got here. The entire town looks like something straight out of the 60s.

The town has a long tradition of refrigeration and cold storage. Back in the 60s, the town produced a large, portion of the milk canisters used by travelling milkmen. You know, the kind you've seen in the movies. People who would deliver cold milk in the morning straight to the door. That milk came transported in a Sullivan's canisters in bright orange and purple letters. They still use the same font, and those milk can be seen all around town. It's a point of pride.

But those days are long gone. There are no milkmen left in Tomscog, but there are a few places that still use the aesthetic as a theme there's Buttermans biscuits on Main Street along with the Rosemary, an ice cream stall in the mall Those places always have someone dressed up as a milkman The high school also has a milkman themed mascot Sort of a cowman minotor thing with a creepy smile

Beth isn't a fan We had been here for about six months When we got a knock on a door We weren't expecting company and by then we were fairly settled in. We'd had our fair share of neighbours coming by already. That time was over. Laura called me over as she opened the door.

I was in shock to see a young man, no older than 17, dressed up in that classic all-white milkman outfit. He waved a clipboard at us with a big smile. Mr. and Mrs. Hives, he smiled. I'm Tom from O'Sullivans. Great to meet you. "'Nice to meet you, Tom,' chuckled my wife, giving me a side eye. "'That's a great uniform.'

"'Just great,' I agreed. "'You're too kind. "'I'm here to see if you're interested to sign up for any of our weekly deliveries. "'I'm sorry we didn't get to you sooner, "'but there are even all kinds of hold-ups on the factory floor.' "'I don't—' "'Ah,' said Laura, looking at me. "'I don't think anything comes to mind,' I butted in,

"'not at the top of my head. "'Of course, of course,' nodded Tom. "'Maybe I could leave this with you, so you can look it over at your own leisure.' He held out a single piece of paper. I took it. We wished him well and locked the door. Laura couldn't stop laughing and swore she was going to get me one of those outfits. The paper itself was left on the kitchen counter for a few days,

until my youngest, Jane, found herself reading it out of sheer boredom one morning. She counted everything on the list, reading it out loud. Most of it was fairly ordinary. You could have eggs delivered, butter, or a few select flavors of ice cream, mostly bened juries. There was also sparkling water, fresh juice, and hay, even good old milk. There were also a few dried goods, like baking soda and flour. Then, at the very bottom of the page, was this one line I couldn't believe.

"'Frogs,' said Jane, my youngest. "'It says frogs here. "'That can't be right,' chuckled Laura. "'Let me see.' She held it up to me as I drank my morning coffee. There it was, bright as day. Frogs with an asterix. No one of the page did it say what the asterix was for.

It was by far the weirdest thing I'd seen in this town. Maybe someone in town had a thing for French cuisine But having frozen frogs hand delivered to your front door That's weird And if it was a cooking thing Why were there no snails? My wife and I talked about it extensively for about a week At the parent-teacher conference

We tried talking to the other parents about it But most of them didn't seem to know what we were talking about They thought we were joking Some of them had O'Sullivan's regular deliveries But most were just once a month and only for some of the cooking basics. Apparently, their fresh cream was the die for. I called up the O'Sullivans the following Monday.

It only took a single ring before someone answered. Not a machine either. A real person. We exchanged pleasantries, and I explained that I'd gotten signed-up sheet from Tom, and they were delighted to have me call back. It was all very pleasant. Until I brought up the frogs and the Asterox.

and the asterix. Oh, you got one of the houses out by the lake? Not really by the lake, we're in the vicinity of it. That's why it's there, just in case you need some frogs, unless you have your own. Why would I need frogs? Could you explain, in clear terms, why... Sir, I'm sorry, but I need you to lower your voice. I'm not proud to say, I didn't.

The conversation turned sour, and I was closed to flinging my phone across the room. Laura calmed down. She told me she talked to the realtor about it, and they had assured me that while there was a lake nearby, there were no reports of troublesome frogs in the area. For all intents and purposes, it all seemed like a mistake. As autumn turned to winter, we forgot about the whole thing. It wasn't until spring we got another visit from Tom,

and this time we weren't home. He left another sign-up sheet on our front door, and I tore it to shreds. Laura thought I was overreacting. Tom'scock is beautiful in the winter, but the snow can be a real problem. A lot of the driveways go slightly uphill, so even a tiny bit of ice can keep you from getting to work on time.

You might think people don't need as much refrigeration in the winter, but you'd be wrong. Sure, you might not want ice cream delivered to your front door, but there are still goods that need to be transported across the country, especially during the holidays. I was working overtime most of December and didn't even give myself the time to worry about the delivery boy from her Sullivan's. I was too busy with everyday life. Getting the kids to school, pushing my car out of the driveway, getting a babysitter once a week for a night out, the usual.

But winter turns the spring. And things changed. I was getting water for my morning coffee when I noticed the pipes rumbling. It sounded like a blockage. As I was about to smack it, something came flying out of the pipe, something small and black, straight into the garbage disposal. The water flowed just fine afterwards, but I couldn't help but worry. I figured the pipes were just old.

Of course, it wasn't that simple. Over the coming weeks, we started to notice things around the house and yard. The grass outside was slowly turning brown, and the gravel path from the house to the driveway was turning into mud. I started waking up to the smell of wet wood drifting in through a bedroom window and my daughters were coming at night complaining about mosquitoes. It all escalated to the point where I woke up one night from a mosquito bite on my nose. I went into the kitchen to grab a glass of juice and calm my nerves

when I suddenly slipped. On a full 90-degree flip landing on my back, staring at the ceiling. I'd checked my foot, only to see it covered in blood. I'd stepped on a frog. I'd squished it and flung the remains straight across the floor like a banana peel. The thing still twitched as my wife threw it out. I had to shower for a solid 40 minutes before I felt even remotely clean again. Over the following days, it just got worse.

I would awaken in the middle of the night by the sound of croaking. It was always somewhere nearby. I could hear something wet, slapping against our wooden floors. Sometimes I'd hear something bump in against the furniture, or even the bedposts. I started doing frog checks before going to bed. I really found more than one, maybe two. But as soon as the lights were out, we could hear them. Croaking, slapping around.

It all came to our head one night when Beth, our oldest daughter, came screaming into our bedroom. There's someone in the house. There's someone in the... I was up in a heartbeat. Laura got to the phone and started calling the police. Jane crawled into bed as I loaded up my beretta. Jane, I yelled. Jane, get in here.

There was no response. I gave Laura a lock and ran out into the hallway, still in my underwear. I could see through the main hallway, all the way to the front door. It was all dark. The lights were still off. The half-moon illuminated.

needed a small silhouette in the doorway. A child, but not Jane. That and a thousand glaring eyes along the floor. Someone was screaming outside. Jane. I took one step and felt a frog crush under my foot. I could feel the grabby hands twitch between my toes as I struggled to stay up. Just as I tried calling out for my daughter, I lost my footing and fell face-first into the floor.

Frogs everywhere. They were getting in my hair, pushing against my ears, trying to force themselves onto me. They pushed against my lips, my nose, my eyes, biting with toothless mouths. I got back up and threw them off of me, only to see that the silhouette in the doorway was gone. I wiped the frog gunk from my face and ran outside, squishing frogs with every step. I could feel them nipping at my leg hair. It was freezing outside, and the mud. was deeper than usual. The croaking outside was deafening. Small, tiny croaks, big, bawling croaks,

croaks that seemed to stretch on forever like screams. Out of the cacophony of sounds, I managed to pinpoint my daughter. Gun in hand, I ran straight into the woods. By now, my heart was pounding so loud I couldn't even hear the croaking. I had only walked that same trail a few times prior. I knew, knew where it was leading me. I should have known. I rang for at least ten minutes, only using moonlight to guide me. I scream myself hoarse,

trying to find Jane, and every now and then I could hear her in the distance. I would trip on branches, step on sharp rocks, tear myself open against pine and birch, but I would just keep going. I pushed myself so hard

I didn't even notice my hand cramping against the trigger of the gun. Luckily, the safety was on. The lake. is usually a calming sight. A small freshwater lake, perfect for fishing, with a big rock in the centre. You can usually type your boat there

and take the dip in the summer. I'd done so a few times before with the girls. But the lake was teeming with frogs. The forest was booming with croaking, and I couldn't see Jane anywhere. Suddenly, something breached the service of the lake. I heard a loud, goggling scream. and I knew it was her.

I ran as fast as I could, diving headfirst into the water. The moonlight reflected against a handful of tiny eyes under the surface, tiny legs kicking to get close to me. The water was dense with mud and debris, and I couldn't see further than a couple of feet. I reached for air and got back down. I was halfway across the lake

when I could finally see something just below the surface. In the moonlight, it looked like to see something. a jellyfish, but I knew better. That was Jane's pajamas. The rest is a bit of a blur. I dove and somehow got a hold of her. As I was pulling her to the surface, I could see something large looking up at me from the bottom,

eyes the size of headlights, holding Jane's entire leg in its mouth. It was gentle, almost surprised to see me. As soon as I tugged her loose, he retreated to the bottom of the lake, those large eyes turning black as the light retreated. I dragged Jane up to the rock in the middle of the lake. She wasn't breathing. I performed CPR, screaming for help. I was panicking so bad I couldn't keep count.

I kept shouting, screaming, crying and begging. But in the end, it was just her and me. As she finally coughed up a longful of lake water, along with the tadpole, I held her close. All around the lake I could see little silhouettes staring at us. Short, here's his shadows, the size of children. They were croaking. We didn't tell the entire story to the police.

There was no way they would have believed us. Instead, they figured it had been a case of night fright and that Jane had gotten lost in the woods. We just let them believe what they wanted. We called Tom from her Sullivan's back. He came the very next day. all dressed up in white. He asked him if he would recommend us ordering the frogs.

Once is enough, he smiled. Most of the old folks who live by the lake's nose to keep a frog or two in the house. How come, I asked. If there are already frogs in the house, there's no need for any more frogs to come in. He nodded, tapping his forehead. So they stay away. So we get frozen frogs. and then we're good.

They're just hibernating. Just go ahead and put them somewhere real nice and I'm sure it'll all be just fine. I signed us up for a single delivery of four frogs. Tom seemed pleased. As he was about to leave, I stopped him. I gotta ask, are we the only ones in town who need this?

Tom looked past me, walking eyes with my youngest daughter. For a few more years, Mr. Hives. Unless you want to take your chances. We got four frogs delivered. I set them up in a nice terrarium in the hallway. Jane barely even remembers that night and doesn't seem as shaken up as the rest of us.

Hell, I've seen a play with the damn things. But me? I get the shakes every time I hear them croak. There hasn't been a single frog on a property since. The grass is green again, and the gravel path stays graveled even during bad rains. But sometimes, at night, I swear I can see those hazy outlines of children along the edges of my property.

And... They croak.