25 Feb The Thing I Found

Posted at 20:00h in Aliens, Abductions, and Extraterrestrials, Beings and Entities, Children and Childhood, Cosmic Horror and Lovecraftian Stories, Dreams and Nightmares, Isolation and Loneliness, Madness, Paranoia, and Mental Illness, Psychological Horror, Science Fiction, Space and Intergalactic Exploration, Strange and Unexplained, Suspense and Thrillers by CreepypastaStories.com 0 Comments

📅 Published on February 25, 2025

“The Thing I Found”

Written by Dale Thompson
Edited by Craig Groshek
Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek
Narrated by N/A

Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on CreepypastaStories.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).

🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available

⏰ ESTIMATED READING TIME — 18 minutes

Rating: 10.00/10. From 1 vote.

Please wait...

All I could utter was “inhuman.” That was what it was. I could not discern whether it was flat, withered pitifully, or a species created to rest parallel with the ground. It appeared two-dimensional in a three-dimensional world, flesh-like and calloused, and when I approached it, I swore it shivered. I must admit, I was entirely perplexed. I had never seen anything like it before.

At that moment, I was not in the mood to delve into something new, but this could be a rare find and possibly worth a fortune. Whether it was organic or engineered, I would have to do some research to uncover its origin. The enigma of this discovery had piqued my curiosity, and despite my initial reluctance, I knew I could not resist the opportunity to unravel its secrets.

An aura of unease suffused the chamber as I pondered the implications of this discovery. The object was alien, its presence defying explanation. It beckoned me to delve into the unfathomable mysteries it harbored. The air grew colder, and a creeping dread infiltrated my bones, yet my resolve to uncover the truth remained steadfast. The unknown loomed before me, and I was resolute in my quest to unveil its secrets.

It was a tantalizing enigma awaiting resolution. My mind buzzed with possibilities, each more fantastical than the last. The allure of the unknown was irresistible, drawing me in like a moth to a flame. The moment demanded exploration, and I stood ready to embrace it.

At first glance, it resembled a leather pancake, but to me, it almost seemed like a living thing.

It was not like a rose, for if it had been any flower, I would have said it had been pressed between the pages of a book for decades, perhaps eons. I felt an urge to touch it, but caution held me back. If it were not of this world, it could be poisonous or toxic, and the last thing I wanted was to expose myself to alien germs.

The object lay there, enigmatic and mysterious, beckoning me to uncover its secrets. As I stared at it, my mind raced with possibilities, each more fantastical than the last. Yet, a sense of caution prevailed, reminding me of the unknown dangers lurking within the cosmos. The air around it seemed to hum with an almost imperceptible energy, drawing me in with its otherworldly allure.

Though the allure was strong, a prudent voice within me urged restraint.

Its presence was a tantalizing mystery waiting to be solved, yet the cosmos held perils as vast as its wonders. My mind buzzed with the excitement of discovery, tempered by the realization that some secrets might best remain undiscovered. This moment demanded exploration, and I stood on the precipice, ready to embrace the unknown.

I looked around for a branch or a stick to prod the enigmatic entity. Grasping a medium-length stick in my right hand, I jabbed it gently twice, only to find it as hard as a brick. To my astonishment, it swiftly inflated and deflated so quickly that it lay flat again before I could fully comprehend what had transpired.

It was as if I had roused it from some eldritch slumber, and it had taken an enormous breath. I examined the end of the stick for any creature residue. My curiosity grew, a consuming desire to understand the true nature of this otherworldly being. The inexplicable sight before me demanded further investigation. A compulsion seized me, urging me to uncover its secrets, no matter the cost to my sanity. Strangely, I felt an impulse to hide it from plain view. With a stick, I gently scooted the enigmatic disc-shaped object off the path, cautiously relocating it to a brush area off the main trek. This mysterious artifact had me on the edge of my seat with intrigue, its otherworldly presence beckoning me to delve deeper into the unknown.

I bent down, still unable to get a good look at it. I decided the best vantage point would be lying on my belly directly in front of it. Settling myself, I set my eye on the disc at ground level, patient and without anxiety, expecting nothing. There was an inexplicable sense of kinship, though I could only assume it was alive after seeing it react to my prodding. I reached out, without any intention of touching it just yet, hoping to see if it moved or flinched. Sadly, there was no reaction whatsoever.

I lay there prone, comfortably prostrated on the ground, staring at it for a good twenty minutes. That was when I remembered something: I had heard there was a chance of rain tonight. Not knowing if the disc was rain-resistant and not wanting to leave it behind to be taken or destroyed by a careless step, I removed my backpack, placed it neatly on the ground, and unzipped it. With a stick, I carefully nudged the object into my backpack and resealed it for security.

The enigma of the disc captivated my thoughts, its otherworldly mystery drawing me deeper into contemplation. As I journeyed on, I could not help but speculate about the secrets it might reveal and how they could potentially reshape my destiny. I felt an urge to show my friends, but I knew I had to understand its nature first. I was not certain if it was malevolent or benign. Sometimes, things exist beyond the dichotomy of good and bad; they can be indifferent, serving no clear purpose.

I was not an overly superstitious boy of twelve. When it came to certain baleful creations like this unidentifiable object, I felt certain measures should be taken to ward off evil. My curiosity was piqued, and my youthful imagination was captivated. I was determined to get to the bottom of this intriguing find, no matter what it took. This was my mission now, and I had every intention of seeing it through.

As I walked home, I would have sworn that something was vibrating in my backpack like a phone in vibrate mode. I wanted to make it home before the rain, which I barely did, and to place my backpack out of sight in my bedroom, which I also accomplished without drawing attention from my mom or sister Jane. With the rain coming down outside, I was dry and quite relaxed in my room, sitting in front of the object, which had ceased buzzing and retained its shape. My fascination with it was growing, though I could not fathom why. I had plenty of other things to occupy my time, yet none held my interest like this enigmatic disc. My sister was older, and I had no one to play with. Perhaps I was getting older, and such things lost their charm.

This disc-shaped object of no apparent significance held a mystery that captivated me. I was certain it had a secret to reveal, and I could not rest until I unraveled it. Gathering my courage, I finally reached out to touch the object. It was cold—unexpectedly so. Far too cold to hold in my bare hands. It was unmanageable.

I retrieved a pair of winter gloves from my dresser drawer and, with my hands now protected, I scooped the disc from the bed. To my dismay, the object had turned my bedspread black where it had been sitting. This was troubling indeed, a puzzle that deepened my curiosity and concern.

As I pondered the nature of this mysterious disc, I realized that solving its riddle had become a consuming quest. What secrets did it hold, and how had it come to be in my possession? These questions drove me forward, determined to discover the truth.

I knew we had some camping gear in the garage that we no longer used, so I stored the leather disc on a bath towel in my half bath and retrieved a cooler, also known as a chilly bin, from the garage. I figured that regardless of how cold the object was, the cooler would suffice for storing it until I knew what I had. The funny thing, though, was that when I used the stick to move it from the original spot where I had initially located it, I did not notice the ground was discolored. There was no need to worry about that now. I was pretty sure I had contained it for now.

I kept my little secret to myself for the time being. Until I knew what I had, there was no reason to share my discovery. I believe I had always been a contemplative child, and this situation truly gave me cause for reflection. I spent practically a full night in contemplation. I could not sleep until the morning, and when I finally dozed off, it was for just a moment. I was awakened by an unfamiliar sound coming from the bathroom. My heart leaped. I knew right away what it was—my serendipitous moment. It was so unexpected that I could hardly wait. I do not remember my bare feet hitting the floor. Perhaps I took one leap, and I was there before the improbable.

I will admit, I hesitated when opening the lid. It was with delight that I saw the icy fog, like dry ice, rolling slowly up and spilling over the edges. Curiously, I did not see my keepsake. The white, creamy fog was thick and perpetual, drifting and spreading until the entire tiled floor was masked with the milky cloud. Fortunately, my winter gloves were on the lavatory, and I pulled them snugly over my quivering fingers. With both hands, I reached into the bin and scooped the leather disc out as if I were bringing a fish up from a shallow pool.

Astonishingly, it had gained heft, reminiscent of a piece of forged steel. Overnight, it had taken on a shiny appearance, and an unusual white light, akin to a small Christmas tree bulb, now glowed at its center on top. It glittered out of time, dazzling my eyes. The disc reverberated in my hands, the vibrations traveling through the gloves, up my fingers, and into my arms, until my teeth chattered. Concerned and mildly afraid, I set it in the bowl on the sink. My gloves, now frozen, were glued to the infernal contraption. I worked feverishly to pull my hands from the gloves. I could feel my fingers burning inside them, much like I suspected frostbite would feel. I managed to shred them off and backed away from the sink, taking utmost caution, considering these new developments with deep conviction.

At least the mist was clearing. I initially feared it might crawl through the entire house, which would have put me on the spot. Mom and Jane were in the kitchen at the other end of the house. The object before me was a mystery I was determined to solve, no matter the cost.

Not wanting to create any suspicion, I made my way to breakfast. Dad had gone to work way earlier than any of us got up. It was just the three of us around the kitchen table, and I played the good actor, never letting on my secret.

I hurried through breakfast, hastily scoffing down a piece of toast, scrambled eggs, and a slice of bacon. My mom’s concerned voice cut through my thoughts. “Are you feeling okay, honey? You’ve hardly had a thing.”

“Yes, Mom, I’m fine,” I responded, quickly adding, “just wasn’t that hungry this morning.”

With that, I hustled back to my room. The moment I stepped through the door, I was met with an astonishing sight. My room had transformed into a stone-cold frozen land of ice and frost. The walls were caked with ice, the floor as slick as a skating rink, and actual ice spikes and stalactites hung menacingly from the ceiling. It was as if my room had become a glacier ice cave like those found in the geothermal regions of Iceland.

The sight was undeniably captivating, with crystal blue hues and the interplay of colors above. Yet, the freezing conditions were a stark reminder of the unnatural transformation. My breath formed visible clouds in the frigid air as I navigated the treacherous terrain of my once-familiar room, in the bowl on the sink, perched atop a formation of cascading ice, down the front of the lavatory like a frozen waterfall. It was a blatant takeover of my room, yet it was impossible not to be impressed by it all.

Realizing that I could not remain in the room without suiting up, I made my way to the closet. Thankfully, the door was ajar; otherwise, I would have had to chisel my way in. My winter coat, though stiff, was manageable. I struggled to put it on, along with socks for my bare feet, shoes, and a scarf. After some digging in the bottom of the closet, I found a second pair of gloves. They were from a couple of years ago and snug, but they still fit despite my recent growth spurt.

As I suited up, the reality of the situation began to sink in. This alien artifact had transformed my room into an icy domain, a challenge that demanded my full attention and ingenuity. With determination and a sense of adventure, I prepared myself to uncover the secrets of this otherworldly phenomenon.

The disc seemed larger to me. There were now three tiny lights burning on top of it. The center light was red and blinked on and off, while the two to each side of it, even spaced apart, were a consistent white. When I extracted it from the sink, I was able, without losing my gloves this time, to ease it down into the cooler. I had not established any facts and had no clear idea about this incomprehensible galactical glacier-making machine. Once in the bin, the thing began to reverberate like a distant motor running, and it made a loud, startling clang sound followed by a droning noise, a blowing sound of rushing air, loud enough for anyone in the house to have heard. After entering the room, I closed my bedroom door but did not lock it behind me. This meant anyone could barge in and see the remodeled room and catch me concealing the artifact. The vibration repeated; this drew my attention down inquisitively to reexamine the thing. The disc had transformed into a mesmerizing shade of red, a vivid and sanguine blend of pulsating colors. Inquisitively and against my better judgment, I poked it with my finger. When I did, I got a bit of a shock. It jolted me like I had stuck my finger into a light socket. This is when I heard my mom’s voice shriek, “What on earth?”

Those three words rang true for sure, for ‘what on earth’ was this alien mechanism doing here, and why me?

I answered with a surprised voice, with an unnatural quaver at the end, “I know it looks bad, but let me explain.”

I realized that this appalling attraction of a frozen wasteland planted solidly in my bedroom had no explanation, but I scrambled to come up with one. I was at a loss for words, and there was no way that I could lie my way out of this one. The evidence was overwhelming.

“Your room!” Mom shrieked again as moms do when their son does something so unbelievable that it goes against all reason. “What have you done?” Her eyes were blazing with parenting fury and a look of surprise. I suddenly got the sensation of hopelessness as if I had unexpectedly become mentally impoverished. In this invalid state of fragmentation, I had to improvise.

I promptly asserted, “I know I should have told you that I found something on the footpath, but I had no idea it would cause this.” Now, one would think that my safety would be considered and take foremost precedence in this matter; however, without considering the true ramifications of an apparent alien take, my mom responded with, “I want all of this ice removed, and then we will have to see what sort of damage you have done.”

I did not understand grownups, and although I am older, my mom made no sense. My room was such an unmeasurable degree of unbelievability that nothing was remotely comparable. Mom refused to see the enormity and immense scale by which this unprecedented catastrophe had showcased itself at our residence.

Mom’s body language was a tightly woven ball of tension. Her jaw was clenched with raised, tight shoulders, and she refused to make eye contact with me. With full-out frustration, she stormed away, right after she shot me a scowling look with tightened lips and flared nostrils. Her ears had even turned red with fury. Her footsteps echoed loudly, gradually fading down the hallway. As they did, she called out with a mix of warning and finality, “You just wait until your father gets home!”

When Mom got angry, she had a tendency not to think straight. Any other parent would ask questions, maybe even give some needed advice, or have true concern for their child’s well-being, but my mom, when agitated, would always fly off the handle. I always thought she had a mental disability in that she could not deal with anything irregular, out of place, misaligned, or malapropos. I knew Mom would be back in the kitchen, most likely cleaning the countertops. She was OCD about cleanliness.

Fetching mom’s hairdryer from her bathroom, I was surprised that my sister Jane had not come to snoop around and to give her two cents’ worth. Being 12 years old, I thought I was smart about this. I used a screwdriver from my nightstand and chiseled a layer of ice from the electrical outlet. With the receptacle finally freed, I turned to the blow dryer, using it for twenty fruitless minutes to melt the sheet of ice clinging to the wall over the sink. I hoped the water would drain away into the sink as the ice thawed. Instead, the blow dryer merely churned out a bit of sludge before overheating and shutting itself off from the continuous use. All I managed to create was a soggy mess. Despair washed over me as I realized my room was beyond saving, and I shivered in the cold, draughty air blowing on my face from the overhead vent as the air-conditioner kicked on. Once the receptacle was free, I used the blow dryer for about twenty minutes in a feeble attempt to melt away the sheet of ice on the wall over the sink. The plan was simple: the frozen water should melt and drain into the sink. But as I wielded the blow dryer, it only managed to create a sludgy mess before overheating and shutting itself off. The unintended consequence was a soggy disaster, and I began to believe my room was beyond salvation. I shivered as the cold, draughty air blew on my face from the overhead vent, triggered by the air-conditioner kicking on.

My mind began to succumb to the reality of this taxing recrudescence, and the magnitude of the surreal staring me in the face was utterly frightening. Spectrally, the enveloped ice cave began to resonate with a faint blue glow, and the little bit that I had melted with the blow dryer instantly hardened to ice again. Every inch of the ice seemed to become animated. At first, it twinkled like distant stars embedded within the ice. When echoing undiscernible whispers began to call out from the outer rim of the universe, I worried that I was experiencing an episode of psychosis. Were these mournful cries from disembodied souls lost in space, or had I fallen prey to hypothermia? My sinuses were inflamed, and I could hardly inhale through my nose. There was a sharp migraine pain that penetrated from the top of my head and chilled my spine rigidly. If I had not been afflicted with this unexpected acute malady, I would have imagined that I was in some ludicrous Disney theatrical performance. Frantically, I slipped on the ice and shuffled toward the bathroom door. The vibrant droning sound from the unknown source increased in volume. The volume became monstrously unbearable, and I covered my exploding head with my gloved hands.

Frozen in virtual petrification, a growing turmoil was all I needed to experience to fight like the devil to free myself from this desiccated frozen grave. The disc had become hostile, and I was powerless to thaw out. There was no defrosting in this thermalized refrigeration. The constant, one-tone droning sound began to staccato with internment, detached beeps, and staggard, and between each gap of silence, the crystallized room of ice began to pop and crack as if something was breaking through from the other side. Stumbling from the bathroom, I fell onto my elbows into the bedroom and slid coolly across the room on my stomach until I bounced off the opposite wall. I briefly saw my reflection on the floor before flipping myself over and looking up at the ceiling. Ghoulish, galactic alien faces were gawking at me from within the fiery ice. The disc buzzed around my room like a frantic horsefly searching for an open window. The faces it displayed were horrifying to behold—taunting, leering distortions with eyes that were wildly out of proportion to their grotesque features. They were twice the size of my own eyes and unblinking. There were at least fifty gamma ray faces from deep space, beyond the Milky Way, entombed without physical bodies. They were floating spirits in a vanquished sea, behind the layer of transparent ice. In this encapsulated room, I would not have been surprised if the entire thing would have collapsed upon me, either crushing me or drowning me as it thawed.

I believed we were moving somehow, flying even, and the room lunged at me with a cacophony of sounds I could not recognize. My ears had never heard such indescribable noises before. I made my way on hands and knees, crawling toward the closet. I did not feel safe out on the open floor, exposed and vulnerable. The cold had taken hold of my lungs bitterly, and my chest hurt. After veering into the closet, I found my winter hat, brushed the embedded ice crystals from the outer layer, and pulled it tightly down over my numb ears.

I knew nothing of space travel and found it impossible to conclude how dire my situation was. Once I had made myself a small nest of clothing inside the closet for comfort, I realized the noises had been completely silenced, and there was an extremely odd, sickening throbbing coming from underneath.

I feared I had caged myself in, created my prison, taking a lone jaunt to some strange and distant place. Although everything was disconcerting, I tried not to fret. I had a peculiar sense of incongruity and an uncomfortable feeling of self-assurance. As twisted as it was, with those oddly expressive alien faces floating overhead in my bedroom, I could not help but marvel at the wonder of it all. Deep down, I had convinced myself that everything would be alright. These were unfamiliar circumstances for anyone to endure, especially for me—a young boy with no real-world experience. I had hardly lived, so what did I know? What was I to observe in all of this? What was I to take away from this after it had concluded and just say I survived the alien abduction? A twelve-year-old boy is not normally required to have the ability to perceive things, say, the way a well-traveled person who has traveled and lived a long life of adventure does. My limited adventures were from video games, the TV, and the little time I spent outdoors. I had not undergone tragedy, hurt, overwhelming joy, or true pleasure. I had so much more living to do to appreciate the gravity and importance of my current situation.

I must have fallen asleep, for when I awakened, I was no longer nestled in my closet, curled up into a ball. Crudely, I was lying on my back, in a gown of some sort, in a domed vaulted room on a soft bed. It was unlike bedroom furniture, and this certainly was a dull bedroom if it was one at all, for nothing adorned the cavernous walls, no pictures, trophies, posters, not even a light switch that I could see at first glance. The bed was a flat gurney, more or less, something that a hospital might use, except the mattress was more upscale, with proper padding from tip to toe. I was stunned by the vagrancy of my mind, sort of as if I was coming out from a drug-induced sleep. As my eyes, particularized, decently focused, I saw at the head of the table a machine, a stainless-looking mechanism of complicated technology with buttons, switches, a lighted display of colors, and a small screen, much like that of a computer, with the exception that it was convex, curved much more so than any I had ever seen before. The apparatus caused me to want to inquire about its function. It was just me on this stretcher, indecently dressed for a public appearance, but I was not restrained. I was not strapped down or held fast by any harnesses. It appeared I was under no restrictions, so I sat up, wondering what was real in this fantasy world and what might play strange tricks on my eyes. When I made my move, an audible gasp rippled through the room, followed by hushed, ear-tickling whispers. I had just executed a death-defying act in the center ring of a circus, mesmerizing everyone present. I did not know if these incorporeal beings were real or if it was a computer network programmed to make certain human noises to better identify with me, or maybe to connect with me by easing my concerns. I did find it all a bit much, demented even, but I did not know where I was, nor exactly how I had arrived there. I slid my feet off the bed and dropped to the floor. Standing perfectly still, I awaited another reaction, but there was unnerving quiet.

As the realization sank in, my thoughts turned to survival. How was I going to make it? Food, water, and necessities were paramount. In this unfamiliar world, I was the alien, reliant on them for sustenance. They had a vested interest in my survival, making it their responsibility to ensure I thrived.

As the induced fog that had clouded my vision cleared, I saw the high dome above me. It was beautiful, a type of clerestory window that opened out into the vastness of space. Aesthetically, it was more tasteful in style than the room itself. The dome was adorned with panels, each featuring curved, bowl-shaped indentations. Within these indentations, faint multicolored lights flickered, fading almost to nothing before burning brightly again.

This mesmerizing display captivated my attention, even as the practicalities of survival weighed on my mind. The juxtaposition of such beauty with my pressing need for sustenance highlighted the strange and surreal nature of my predicament. Here I was, an alien in an unfamiliar world, trying to navigate the delicate balance between awe and necessity.

I was no longer deathly cold, I noticed. I would be as rigid as a telephone pole if it had been as cold as my bedroom. Instead, it was pleasant, at a very moderate temperature.

The sensory apparatus made a couple of clicking noises as if it were booting up, and I turned to face it. Certain odd, intermittent clicks squawked from it. A soft sound grated from it. A thin, subdued ringing took up residence in the room, but it was not from the machine before me. It was permeating from overhead. While my attention was primarily on the sound above me, I never noticed someone behind me. I jumped nervously and was more than alarmed when a hand laid sharply on my shoulder. I nearly jumped out of my skin. I took two steps forward in retreat and spun around, not knowing what to expect.

Standing before me was a being of immense height, at least a foot taller than my dad. The alien’s bulbous head housed two large oblong eyes, lidless as far as I could tell. Its shiny lime-green head was devoid of hair, and nostrils were built into its face in the center, between two protruding sharp cheekbones. Only a slit occupied the mouth space, without any lips. It stood erect, with long, straggly arms loosely hanging from its narrow, bony shoulders.

This was beyond belief, an immobilizing spectacle. In my wildest dreams and most vivid imagination, I could not have conceived such an implausible scenario. This encounter, as I now call it instead of an abduction, was the defining moment of my young existence. It was not only remarkable on every level known to man but also absurdly spectacular.

The inconceivably tall alien, bulbous, star-filled eyes reflecting unknown universes, reached out its elongated hand toward me. In its long, knobby fingers, which I counted five joints per finger, it held the disc that was the obvious cause of all the trouble and had precipitated my presence aboard what I assumed to be this amazing spacecraft.

I did not know how to respond. My initial reaction was to be untrusting; after all, I had been kidnapped, bedroom and all, and speaking of which, my mind flashed the question, “Where is my bedroom anyways?

I heard an answer in my young head. It swirled like a maelstrom, and when the torrent calmed, the voice was toneless, deliberate, and, yes, disembodied.

“I am Delmix. Do not be afraid. I am from Volle T660, a planet with many moons and a lunar civilization. It is in a galaxy called Tiara Nebula, far beyond your telescopic reaches. I wish to extend my gratitude for your rescue. Our ship, which I now hold in my hand, had a malfunction, and we were forced to crash-land here to make repairs. “You see, we hail from a planet with gravity, much like Earth. Our repairs cannot be accomplished without it. You have many questions, but the answers lie beyond your lifetime.”

I did not know what to say. This alien Delmix was in my head speaking, and if he were in my head as I knew he was, I assumed he must be able to read my thoughts. Before I could ask him, “Are you taking me home?” He answered.

“You are at home, Tommy. You have never left your bedroom. You see, you found the disc on the pathway; you brought it home. You were exhausted and fell asleep, and when you opened your eyes again, the disc was gone, and your room was as it was. You and your mother never discussed returning your room to normal. Your mother is about to wake you up about right now.”

I immediately opened my eyes as if I had been in a magical trance and someone had snapped their fingers in my ear. I heard my mother’s voice. She sounded gruntled as if she could not be happier.

My mom was nudging my shoulder, and she said, “Tommy, you, sleepy head, it is time to get up. I made your favorite, waffles and bacon. Come on, and I will make you a plate.

My mom left the room, and I glanced around. Everything looked as it did before I ever found that disc. Now, I am older and in college. I wonder if Delmix ever makes his way through this part of the galaxy anymore. If he does, I think I would welcome him. Oh well, time to eat.