Spooky Stories About Freaky Beings and Monsters

Good evening, it’s Spooky Boo coming to you from the lighthouse in Sandcastle, California. It’s getting close to Christmas time and tonight I’m wrapping packages for my friends here in this forsaken town. I’ve bought crosses and garlic, wood stakes and ribeye steaks, silver mirrors and silver bullets. All of these gifts are necessary for friends who refuse to buy their own. I know, I sound like a drag but these are necessities here in Purgatory.

Tonight I have for you a bunch of creepy stories that will make your toes curl and your fingers pull your blankets up over your head. These spooky, scary stories are from the Creepypasta library and are not for the timid!

Before I begin I’d like to thank the listeners and the Patreon members including madjoe, P.A. Nightmares on YouTube, Ivy Iverson, John Newby, Patrick, and 933TheVoltcom for without the listeners, Patrons, and sponsors this show would not be possible.  To learn how you can support Spooky Boo’s Scary Story Time and Creepypasta Scary Stories visit the website at www.scarystorytime.com/support. Sign up for membership to get the podcast commericial free or buy a t-shirt to show your friends, it all helps. You can also share the program with your friends on social media as it really helps out a lot. Just search for Spooky Boo’s Scary Story Time on your favorite social media platform.

Now let’s begin…

One at a Time

Susan woke in a cold sweat. The power was off and the din of silence pounded at the membranes of her mind. The room was a dense and heavy dark save a strange ambient glow of amber permeating through the narrow crack between her door and the frame. The air was thick, moist, and suffocating, almost as if it was trying to kill her and have the room to itself.

Besides a pounding cranium and rash-covered lungs, she felt the utmost sense of unease, the type one gets when they peer down a dark alleyway in the middle of a muggy summer night. She flipped her pillow and lay her head on the frigid cotton weave case. She remained motionless after that, every inch of her being screaming at her to roll over and see what was there. The darkness grew heavier as if it were corpses being piled upon her one at a time. One at a time.

“Heeeewwwuuuuu huugggghhhhh…”

The sudden noise sent a trickle of icy despair down her spine. She wasn’t alone. She dared not close her eyes, for she was terrified at what she might see when she opened them. Who was breathing? Was it her? The hot air stung her trachea as it was pumped in and out.

Every breathe was accompanied with a slight wheeze. Perhaps the ominous breathing had been her, and she just hadn’t noticed it. She had no way of knowing though; she had to remain motionless, staring at that amber light. If she moved, it would get her.

One at a time. Dead grins welcoming the reluctant soul. One at a time,

Her eyes were fish out of the water, burning in the heat of a non-existent sun. What was once her lips had become awkward mountain ranges, dry and scaly with gummy dampness in the valley. The wheezing had stopped, and so had the otherworldly breathing. The deep, torturous silence returned. It knocked at her brain, asking, no, demanding access to her sanity. She denied it, but the silence was a fabulous lock pick.

One at a time. Corpse after corpse. One at a time.

The dark outlining the amber glow twisted and contorted into grotesque shapes and beings that words cannot describe. As she witnessed the inborn terrors of the human mind, the glow flickers as if something crept through it. The darkness changed into all the creatures of nightmare, setting her sanity on edge. Another flicker. An impossible tear formed in her eye. Darkness. The amber light died without warning.

One at a time. The stench of the forgotten grave. One at a time.

The door creaked, age old hinges resisting the even older wood. Crying in the distance. The whine of a babe left alone in the unyielding darkness. Icy fingers grazed Susan’s face. Rodents began gnawing and scratching relentlessly into the soles of her feet. The metallic whine of a chainsaw in the distance, accompanied with a bloodcurdling scream. Unable to move, unable to blink in fear that it would get her.

One at a time. Blankets of dead tissue. One at a time.

Her heart pounded in her chest, seeking release. A trickle of blood escaped a nostril. Thu Thump! Thu Thump! Thu Thump! Her ribs on fire, her heart bruising. No release from this hell. Laughter! Crying! Yelling and screaming! Eyes red, raw from the air. Sweat pooling. Trembling lips. Demons of the night, dancing dancing dancing! Headless children running about, blood everywhere! Dancing! Clapping!

The eyes of death mocking her! Laughter! Tumbling corpses! Blood! Crying! Begging for the end! She was dying!

One at a time! You’re gonna die, bitch! One at a time!

The amber light blossomed through the crack, illuminating the room. Salvation! She let out a cry, a peep, as the darkness swirled away from the crack, abandoning its torment-laden onslaughts. The beauty of it enfeebled her, and in this moment, she blinked.

Never had a single action felt so… wonderful. The beautiful spark of agony as the dampened eyelids moistened the sandy orbs, the coolness of the eye as the lid made contact. She smiled, her quivering lips pulled apart to reveal pearly teeth, yellow in the amber light. She rolled the mountain ranges inward and wet them, soothing the cracks and stings.

One at a time. The dead are leaving, returning to the mortal fields. One at a time.

Clikkety clack! Clikkety clack! The patter of footsteps was a killjoy. Once again her eyes grew still, her breathing ragged. Adrenaline soared through her veins. Frozen. The door opened, moaning as it did so. Something entered her room. She saw the silhouette against the amber light. The darkness began to change. She whined, then screamed as something leapt up on the bed, landing on her legs.

She kicked her way up to a sitting position and flung her arm out wildly in the dark, searching for the lamp. Her fingers found it and clicked it on, illuminating the room with a white light. It was empty. No demons, no killers, no rodents gnawing at her feet. She looked at the foot of her bed and relief rushed through her, replacing the incapacitating adrenaline. It was Trixie, her golden retriever pup. The hound wagged its bushy tail and darted up to Susan. She laughed as Trixie licked her face, the oddly comforting stench of puppy breath filling her nose, replacing the smell of her blood.

“Go to sleep, baby,” she told Trixie. The dog shook its head playfully, ran around in the bed a bit, and dug in, releasing a wholehearted sigh. Susan lay back down, relief and joy filling her being.

“It was just the dog, you idiot,” she smiled and shut off the light. As her head touched the pillow, the door slammed shut. Trixie whined. Susan pulled the dog closer to her. It’s just the wind, girl, just the wind. Her eyes grew wide as she realized that the window wasn’t open. Something bumped the bottom of the bed. Twice. Trixie let out a growl. The darkness grew heavy. Silence. The heavy, heavy silence.

One at a time. One at a time.

The Eldritch Bus

All I can do now is distract myself through writing. I don’t know if waiting it out is my only option, or if I should do something drastic. With every second that passes, I can’t help but think that this bus will be my tomb either way. I don’t feel that I’m pressed for time, so I’ll write a bit of backstory, for perspective.

Like many other city-living commuters, waiting for the bus was a fairly common occurrence to me. The trains didn’t run early in the morning when I went to work. Often enough, I’d check the app, which said the same thing as the bus stop schedule. The bus would be there imminently, 1-2 minutes.

One minute passed. Then 2. Then 3.

It’s not infrequent that the city buses are late, with no real explanation as to why. What’s rare, however, is when they simply don’t arrive at all. I’d check my app, over and over again, only to find that allegedly the bus had come and gone. News to me and the 2 other people waiting, as the roads were quiet and there’s no way we could have missed it. I’d jokingly refer to these buses as eldritch buses (little did I truly know).

Although not a totally common occurrence, it wasn’t anything I’ve ever thought twice about (beyond fuming about being late). Typically I’d brush it off as the same crap transit service I grew up with, in Toronto. At the worst I’d cuss and see the same displeasure reflected back at me in the faces of the other impatient commuters, as they too would check their phones in vain. I had no cause to care beyond my wasted time. That is, until I ended up seeing what happened to those eldritch buses.

Today, I got on the bus as normal, around 5 AM on a Sunday. It was that late point in summer, when the days are hot and humid, but the early hours of the morning are cool. There tends to be quite a bit of mist, and you’d see the condensation formed on the windows of quiet cars and dark storefronts.

As the bus rolled up, I could see the yellowish white glow of the fluorescent lights through the moisture laden windows, piercing the darkness like a dull knife. The driver had that vacant end-of-the-shift, night worker look on his face. He probably wouldn’t have noticed whether or not anyone getting on even paid their fare.

As I stepped up to board, the only other person waiting with me shoved passed rudely, desperate for a seat, likely to pass out and miss their stop. I didn’t think much of it, it was too early to really kick up a stink anyways.

Strangely, the bus was far less occupied than usual. In fact, there was only one other passenger on it. As the trains don’t operate at this time, it’s rare that I should see an open seat, let alone snag it in time.

I didn’t really care much about the why, I was just happy to get a rare, coveted seat for my as-of-yet caffeinated arse. I sat near the back, so as to keep the way clear for new people coming on.

The bus trotted along as usual, through the dark August morning. I tried to look out the windows, as I get motion sickness easily, but unfortunately, due to the condensation I was out of luck. I dared to look down at my phone, only to realize the commute that should have taken 20 minutes, had been going for almost 30. Frustrated, I checked the app to see the expected time of arrival at my stop.

Three minutes.

Not much I could do other than stew in my anger. 5 minutes later, I checked again.

Three minutes, again.

Absolutely furious at this point, I stood up to gripe at the driver, but realized the bus wasn’t moving at all…

We weren’t stopped at a light, so far as I could tell, but it felt like the bus’s wheels were in motion. The engine was working hard, as if we were accelerating, but we were definitely not moving. I looked back down at the app on my phone.

Zero minutes.

Then it started displaying the time for the next bus. As if we’d glided straight through the stop.

I ran up to the front of the bus to get the driver to let me off immediately, but stopped as I noticed something incredibly peculiar. I couldn’t see a single thing through the front window. I hadn’t paid any attention to the front windows until then, but there’s no way in hell the driver could see through all the thick, creamy mist. Yet the engine was still roaring.

As I turned to the driver, I noticed he was unconscious, foot off the pedal. I tried to shake him awake, but he wouldn’t rouse. He was stiff, cold. If it wasn’t for the wisps of breath I could see emerging from his slacked mouth, I’d have been convinced he was dead.

I turned around to voice my concerns to the other 2 passengers, but saw they were unconscious as well. All thoughts of getting to work on time had completely gone out the window. Fumbling for my phone, I tried to make a call. Someone, anyone. As I started calling my wife’s number, the call failed. No reception.

Out of options, but struggling in futility, I tried calling again. No luck. As I stood there thinking of what to do next, I pondered “Why have I not tried to leave the bus?”. I suppose it was because I was a little bit scared. There was a haunting nag of uncertainty in the back of my mind. A fear of dealing with the unknown, all alone.

Touching the window of the bus door, it was cool. Far too cool for the ambient temperature when I left my home. By now it was almost 630 AM, if anything, it should be warming up outside. I forced the front folding door open, only to be overwhelmed with a vile, acrid scent. The viscous, almost gelatinous fog started pouring in. Desperately slamming the door closed as quickly as I could, gagging and choking on the permeating ‘air’, I raced back to my previous seat, and put my head in my hands.

‘What the hell am I going to do?’

I reasoned with myself that this was some kind of delusion, a dream, but the stinging feeling in my sinuses from the fog reassured me that I was very much awake. Although I definitely was starting to feel drowsy. More so than normal during my early commute. I knew I had to fight the urge to sleep. I was the only one on the bus who somehow managed to maintain consciousness. Everytime my eyelids felt too heavy to bear, and I’d almost lose the fight, I’d hear the faintest whispering coming from all around me. It would spook me halfway back to attention.

As my eyelids felt heavier and heavier, the whispers losing their shock value, I thought for sure I was done resisting…

*THUMP*

The bus rocked back and forth. Against the window next to the rude dude who shoved me, I saw there was damage to the glass from a significant impact. A web-like ripple, but strangely obscured. Upon further inspection, there was some kind of fluid, or slime on the exterior of the glass. As I slowly moved closer to examine it, another THUMP sent me reeling backwards. It had hit like a baseball bat, or golf club, or something! It didn’t look like it though, it looked like a fat hose, or a tentacle of some kind. I only saw it for a second, but it was enough to know there was something out there! Whatever the hell it was, it was trying to get to the rude guy!

After working up the courage, I ran up, grabbed him, and dragged him to the back.

No more thumps so far.

I decided to do the same with all the other occupants. The back area was much harder to see into from the outside. Hopefully whatever was out there would give up.

I checked my watch. It was 0730 at this point. No thumps since I dragged everyone to the back. I decided to look around, see if I could make out anything in the fog. I noticed something dark against the window on the left hand side. Hesitant to approach the windows too closely, I tried to study it from afar. It looked like a big mouth, like one of those fish that suck the glass in the tank, but with several rows of tiny (relatively) teeth and a massive body. More like a lamprey… as if they weren’t creepy enough at their normal size.

Wondering what the hell to do now, I remembered my notepad in my bag. I pulled it out, and started to write all of this down. To help distract myself, and to stay calm.

I watched the mysterious leech for a while, between thinking of every detail to add to my writings. I’ve lost track of time. Still torn between feeling like I’m going to pass out, and being too jacked up on pure terror to sit still. I looked into its maw, it felt kind of hypnotic, the rows of teeth were orchestrated very strangely, almost like a psychedelic spiral, but dark and macabre.

*BOOM*

My observance was cut short (for however long it really was) by a huge crash that made the bus rock back and forth, worse than the thumps. Something big, bigger than the lamprey, just slammed right on top of it and snatched it away. I couldn’t see at all what it was, but all it left behind was a smear of whatever juices ran through that creature’s body, and another huge web-like crack in the glass. Only this one looked more severe.

It wasn’t until I smelled that sour stinging scent again that I noticed. The fog was seeping in through the cracks. It was only a matter of time before the bus filled. I had no idea what I could use to block it. I rifled through my backpack, and the belongings of my unconscious bus mates with very little luck. The driver had some cheap chewing gum in his rear pocket. Better than nothing. I put every piece in my mouth and started hastily chewing. The whispers had come back. They make it hard to write, I wish I could understand what they were saying.

By now I could tell that it was brighter outside the bus. The fog had a gooey off-white appearance, almost a little purple, but it was definitely brighter outside than in. I hadn’t even noticed at what point the bus engine had stopped, but the lights inside were off now too. As I cautiously crept toward the oozing crack to fill it, my nose started to sting again. I held my breath. Stuffing the gum in was easy enough, but something stopped me from moving any further. I was paralyzed by what I saw on the other side of the window. There were shadows moving in the fog. All sorts of strange figures, ranging in size from the average human, to that of an elephant, some of indescribable shapes. It looked like the bus was surrounded by these shadows, on all sides.

I regained what little composure I had left, and scurried back to my seat, like a cockroach fleeing once the lights were flicked on. Yeah, that was apt…. To these creatures, in this place, I was little more than a fearful insect, hiding for dear life.

All of the sudden, everything got significantly brighter, the bus was being jostled. It felt like an earthquake. Looking out the window I saw the previous shadowy forms edging away, and the light beginning to dim.  We were in the shadow of something massive. The mist has eaten away at the gum-sealed crack. It’s making its way in again.

I don’t know if I hope that someone finds this notepad, or if I’d rather that no one ever know about this hellish dimension I’ve fallen prey to. I can see the shadows moving again in the distance. Closing in. Moving faster. The whispers are so loud now, like screams, but I still can’t understand, I want to understand!

I have no hope here, in this place. I’m so lonely, but I don’t feel as scared as I did before. If anyone finds my writing, finds themselves trapped as I am, don’t be scared. It starts to feel better, I promise.

I’m going to try to leave through the emergency exit hatch on the roof of the bus. I want to go out there, I don’t know why, but I think that’s what the whispers need me to do. I think they care about me. Perhaps it’s not so bad.

I don’t remember why I was afraid anymore. I don’t remember what fear felt like.