CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio
Apr 16, 2026 · 1 hr 26 min · 21 segments
CREEPYPASTA STORY►by Pieryl: / pieryl Creepypastas are the campfire tales of the internet. Horror stories spread through Reddit r/nosleep, forums and blogs, rather than word of mouth. Whether…
One night, Magnus called in sick.
In six years of working together, I'd never known Magnus to call in sick.
The guy came to work with a broken finger, with his marriage falling apart.
But that night, at 9:47 PM, I got a text.
"Not feeling great.
Taking the night off.
Be careful out there." I was partnered with Jake for the shift, a rookie who'd been on the job for maybe eight months.
Nice kid.
Eager, but talked too much.
We'd handled two calls already.
First was a drunk college student who'd fallen down some stairs, and an elderly woman with chest pains who turned out to be having a panic attack.
It was just after midnight when the dispatcher's voice came over the radio, and I swear to God, I felt my stomach drop before she even finished the sentence.
"Medic 47, we have an unresponsive person at 1247 Riverside Avenue, apartment 4F.
Police are not on scene.
Repeat, no police on scene." It was the tone, flat and emotionless.
Jake reached for the radio to confirm, but I grabbed his wrist.
He looked at me, confused.
"Let me," I said.
I picked up the radio.
"Dispatch, this is Medic 47.
Can you repeat that address?" A pause, longer than it should have been.
"1247 Riverside Avenue, apartment 4F." "Copy that.
Medic 47 en route." I hung up the radio and started the engine.
Jake was staring at me.
"You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost." I didn't answer.
One night, Magnus called in sick.
In six years of working together, I'd never known Magnus to call in sick.
The guy came to work with a broken finger, with his marriage falling apart.
But that night, at 9:47 PM, I got a text.
"Not feeling great.
Taking the night off.
Be careful out there." I was partnered with Jake for the shift, a rookie who'd been on the job for maybe eight months.
Nice kid.
Eager, but talked too much.
We'd handled two calls already.
First was a drunk college student who'd fallen down some stairs, and an elderly woman with chest pains who turned out to be having a panic attack.
It was just after midnight when the dispatcher's voice came over the radio, and I swear to God, I felt my stomach drop before she even finished the sentence.
"Medic 47, we have an unresponsive person at 1247 Riverside Avenue, apartment 4F.
Police are not on scene.
Repeat, no police on scene." It was the tone, flat and emotionless.
Jake reached for the radio to confirm, but I grabbed his wrist.
He looked at me, confused.
"Let me," I said.
I picked up the radio.
"Dispatch, this is Medic 47.
Can you repeat that address?" A pause, longer than it should have been.
"1247 Riverside Avenue, apartment 4F." "Copy that.
Medic 47 en route." I hung up the radio and started the engine.
Jake was staring at me.
"You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost." I didn't answer.
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