Good evening, it’s Spooky Boo Rhodes coming to you from the KSND radio waves in Sandcastle, California. Tonight I have for you two very terrifying stories about demons. I’m sure you’ll enjoy these creepy tales of death and demonic rage.
Now let’s begin…
Demon’s Den
by MonicaMishra0607
This is not a work of fiction. This really happened to me. I am writing this so no one else makes the same mistake that I did. I moved to London from India immediately after my wedding with Karan. My husband was living in London for six years and his then accommodation was a shady studio apartment, which to me was simply uninhabitable.
After a lot of coaxing, he finally agreed to look for a new place. I had just started looking for a receptionist job, so we planned to look for a humble one-bedroom apartment. Along with applying for jobs and preparing for interviews, house-hunting became my day job. Two weeks into the search, I realized that for the price we were willing to pay, the only place we could afford was a shady studio apartment. I finally gave up this pursuit and instead decided to focus more towards finding a job. Good things come to you when you stop looking. This is what I believed to be true when, while going through job openings, I got a pop-up for a just-posted house rental advertisement. I wish I knew then that this was far from good, that it was going to be the biggest mistake of my life. I’m lucky to be alive to tell the tale.
We went to view the house the same day I saw the advertisement because I didn’t want to lose the house to another early bird. One look at the house and I was mesmerized. For a person coming from the second most populated country in the world, living in a beautiful and spacious three-bedroom Victorian house overlooking a garden away from the hubbub of the city was a dream come true. Karan’s office, too, was only an hour’s commute from there. The rent on this place was almost the same as we were paying for the studio apartment, so Karan didn’t mind, though he was a bit skeptic about such low rent, so we checked the house thoroughly before signing the contract. The owner was British Indian, so he agreed to further reduce the rent for his fellow countrymen. We handed over our one-month’s notice letter to end our tenancy to our landlord, and within that one month I got a decent paying receptionist job in a multinational company in Central London. Just married, new country, new job and a beautiful house… It felt so surreal. But this joy was to be short lived.
We moved into the house on a weekend since I was on probation and couldn’t take leave. We just had a few possessions to move, but it wasn’t a problem since the house was fully furnished and the previous tenants had left all their kitchenware and a couple of other stuff. This surprised me as the crockery looked quite expensive. When I asked Bij (our landlord) about this, he said that the previous occupants had to move to Scotland in a hurry, and thus didn’t bother to carry fragile stuff with them. I was so naive to have believed him; if only I had tried to dig further or reach out to the previous tenants.
The first week in the house was quite uneventful. It was spent arranging stuff and buying some supplies. Everything in the house worked as expected: washing machine, refrigerator, showers and faucets, no signs of any leakage or creaking floorboards. Karan’s suspicions about the house were finally put to rest and he was convinced that there was no foul play. I wish it had stayed that way, but things took an ugly turn the next week.
Karan used to play badminton early in the morning on weekends with his pals, while I preferred sleeping till late. I woke up while Karan was about to leave for his game. He gave me a quick peck on my cheeks and left around 6 am; it was still dark outside. I got back to sleep, but soon I awoke with a jerk from a nightmare where an ugly old woman was strangling me. I was covered in sweat and short of breath. It felt like the atmosphere had changed, the silence felt unusual and it was obvious that something was off. I couldn’t describe it, really. It was just this feeling that something unnatural was happening and just then I heard someone crying. Initially, I thought I was still dreaming and it was a part of the same nightmare, but it really was happening. I tried to calm myself and look for the source of the sound. By concentrating hard, it sounded like a cat crying. In India, a cat crying is considered a bad omen. It usually means death of a loved one. First the nightmare, and now this. I was very scared.
I headed towards the source of this cacophony, which had increased in volume and now sounded more like wailing. I got more concerned than scared now. What if the cat is really hurt, and needs help? The sound originated from the garden. The garden’s entrance was through a door in the kitchen. I mustered up some courage and turned the door knob. Sitting on the fence opposite me was the most grotesque cat I had ever seen. It was an old, wrinkled and skinny black cat with bright red eyes. As soon as it laid eyes on me it stopped crying and started hissing. I could see pure hatred in its eyes.
It looked at me with murderous rage. I simply stood there staring at this devilish feline. I was still clutching the door knob, when without any warning the grotesque being pounced at me from its sitting position with god-like speed. This broke my spell and I quickly pushed the door shut in time. I expected to hear a thud from when the cat must have hit against the door, but I didn’t, and neither did I hear it crying anymore. Everything had gotten eerily quiet, except my heart, which was beating so fast that I thought it would come out of my chest.
Karan came home to find me passed out on the kitchen floor. He splashed some water on my face and I struggled to open my eyes. I felt very weak, and standing up on my own took a lot of effort. I told Karan everything that had happened, but I could see it was hard for him to believe that a cat was planning to murder me. I couldn’t blame him for that. Karan helped me calm down by suggesting we call animal control, and they will take care of this stray cat. I assumed it was a stray as it was so skinny and dirty. After talking to animal control, Karan took me to the movies, followed by a lavish dinner to take my mind off the nasty episode. And it worked. I felt much better. We came back late in the evening and directly went to bed. Sleep came almost instantly, as I was very exhausted.
Around three in the morning, I was woken up by whispering noises. At first, I thought it may have been that Karan couldn’t sleep and was watching TV, but then I turned and saw he was out cold. I sat still on my bed and tried to figure out what I was hearing. It sounded like a woman chanting something in Sanskrit. I had never studied Sanskrit, but I could still make out some of the words. Amura, which means devil and Amritata which means immortality. This really scared me. Considering all that was happening, I could only think of one thing: the house was haunted.
The chanting grew louder, now. I wasn’t feeling brave enough this time to get up and investigate. It took me a good five minutes to wake Karan up from his deep slumber, and another five minutes to explain to him about the chanting sound. But the chanting had ceased by then and he looked at me with some concern. I immediately regretted waking him up. We were just married and I didn’t want him thinking his wife was a nut job. Before he had a chance to comment, I lied saying that perhaps the move and adjusting to my new job had taken a toll on me, and that I just needed a little rest. He looked convinced and sympathetic. But I was quite sure that I had not imagined any of this.
The next three days passed without any incident, and I didn’t see the cat again. I felt foolish for thinking the house was haunted. Karan was a network security architect, and was working on a critical project, and to meet the deadline he was asked to work extra hours. I wasn’t too happy about it. Even though nothing odd had happened lately, I was still pretty shaken up from the previous week. I came home from work and fixed myself a quick supper. Karan was going to have dinner at his office. With nothing else to do after dinner, I planned to watch a movie. But my laptop wasn’t connecting to the wifi network. I’m quite bad with computers, so I didn’t try much, and instead decided to connect to LAN, but couldn’t find a LAN cable. Just when I was going to give up on my search, I thought of the basement. Maybe there were a few spare cables lying out there. This was the first time I was going to see the basement. Karan and I never bothered to check it, as we didn’t really have anything to be kept in it yet.
I opened the basement door and it creaked. It was pitch black in there. I tried to feel the light switch with my hand and finally found it. The light was very dim, but enough to see everything. There were 15 or so steps to the basement. The wooden steps creaked under my weight. The basement was pretty big and all the stuff was covered in white sheets, which were more brown than white, completely covered in dust. I lifted one of the covers and what I saw filled me with dread. Lying on a big wooden table were many locks of hair, tied together by a red thread, nails, human bones, pin stuffed dolls, and a skull. There were cardboards with ancient symbols and a terrifying picture of a devilish creature sketched onto them in what seemed like blood. I felt like I was going to throw up. The most upsetting part was that the blood seemed fresh. I had to get out of there.
Suddenly, the room felt very cold. The hair at the back of my neck stood up and I froze. I knew then that someone was watching me. I could smell rot, and the air had turned putrid. I saw some movement from the corner of my eye. I started shivering and tears started rolling down my face. I felt so helpless then, but I wasn’t going to give up. I gathered all the courage I could muster and turned around to run upstairs. That’s when I saw the horrible face that I can never forget in this life. I still have nightmares about her.
Standing near the foot of the stairs was a woman, or rather she was a woman once. Now she was a hideous being with long, grey and dirty hair spread across her wrinkled face, red eyes glaring at me with hate, claws for feet and gnarled shadowy hands with long and uneven finger nails. She was smiling at me, showing her few rotten teeth. This made her look even more hideous. She was wearing a dirty and tattered black sari. I knew then that she was the cat who had tried to murder me. She hissed at me and called out my name: “Mira.” It came out as a shriek and my blood ran cold. I knew then that I couldn’t get out of there alive. There was no point in struggling.
It’s strange how during the last moments, your whole life flashes in front of you. How I wished I could tell Karan and my family one last time that I loved them. The hideous thing once again pounced at me, and this time there was no door to shut. I fell on the floor and she started strangling me while chanting some mantras.
I come from a very religious family, and since I was a kid I wore an amulet around my neck that wards off evil spirits. I never thought much of it and always kept it tucked under my blouse. During the struggle, the amulet came off and the devil woman accidentally touched it and her hands started burning. She shrieked and hissed for a while, and I could see fear in her eyes. She ran into the wall opposite me and vanished. It took a good ten seconds (though it felt like an eternity) to register what just happened. But I had to get out of there quick, fearing she might come back. I held the amulet in one hand and started crawling.
I don’t remember much of how I escaped from the house. Karan told me later that he found me lying outside the house in the freezing cold. I was taken to the hospital, and it took me two days to recover physically, though mentally I was scarred for life. Karan was in the hospital with me the whole time, as I wouldn’t let him go to the house alone. This time Karan believed my story, as he could see faint red marks on my neck. I couldn’t live in that house anymore. We went back only once to get all of our stuff, and Karan told me later that he saw a skinny black cat in the garden while leaving.
Our lives went back to normal, but I was not going to rest until I knew what was wrong with the house. I never went back to the house to investigate, but I spoke with a couple of previous tenants and found some old newspaper articles that gave me the story I was looking for. The ghost haunting the house was Maya. She was Bij’s great grandmother and a tantrik. She used to practice witchcraft in the basement, and sacrificed small animals to please Amura, who in turn would have offered her immortality. But by sacrificing just animals, she would have returned as an animal, not human. To come back as a human, she had to make human sacrifices.
With an obsession to return as a human after death, she chose to sacrifice her own son, but her husband came home just in time to save him. He knew his wife was a trantik, but he didn’t have much of a problem with her sacrificing animals, but not his son. That was too much. He took his son with him and left her alone in the house. She died an old and spiteful woman. And my guess is, she came back as a cat after her death. She is still out there looking for her next victim to please Amura. My request to anyone reading this is to never rent or buy a house if the deal is too good to be true.
Dark of the Corner
by Alex&Sydd storehhs
I felt like it was going to be a night like any other, ya know, laying in my bed for hours, just staring at the ceiling with nothing to do because of my insomnia. Ever since I was diagnosed with insomnia, I’ve never been the same.
I lost sleep, my grades plummeted, and my friends didn’t want to hang around me anymore because I was hardly ever awake.
Although, whenever I tried to sleep I kept getting the strangest feeling… as if someone were watching me. Most people feel like they’re being watched when they’re alone in the dark, but no.
This feeling followed me wherever I went, I couldn’t even walk down the street without getting chills down my spine. I started to get used to the chills… Then, I began to hear things.
Every waking moment of everyday, I would start hearing high-pitched whispers in my ears. What were they saying to me? No idea. I had no idea what was making these noises or where it was coming from, but they needed to stop. The voice kept telling me to do psychotic things.
As odd as it may sound… It almost gave me the urge to… Hurt someone. I know it sounds crazy but it made me feel as if I really wanted to kill someone. Hurt them, watch them cry. These whispers, I hated them. I hated all of it.
Before any of this even happened I was fine. The normal kid outside throwing a football around with his dad. Not anymore, I’ve changed. I’ve changed way too much. In a way I felt attached to these whispers. No not the whispers, the thing causing the whispers. Sometimes it almost felt too close for comfort.
I honestly can’t tell you how I felt. The only way I can really describe these whispers is… tempting. I can’t really explain why, but these whispers made me feel as if… as if needed to do this. As if it was my job to do what it said…
It was like any other normal day. Tossing and turning. Sitting in that room full of silence, when I started having visions. They weren’t normal, let me tell you that. Trippy effects, neon colors flashing before my eyes. I wouldn’t really call them dreams considering they weren’t something a normal kid would dream about, or at least not what I think they would. Should I call it a nightmare? Yeah, that one sounds better. Anyways, I saw this person flash by a few times.
Actually no — scratch that, it wasn’t human. It was this creature. A demonic creature. It was naked, I could see it’s whole bare body. Nothing but a cloth had covered in between its thighs. It was a small dark figure, almost shadow-like… but with a human shape. It’s face consisted of two dark black pupils. It’s smile was vicious, and I could see it’s sharp rotting fangs hanging out of its mouth.
The things head I wasn’t too sure about. It had these horns, kind of like a ram’s horns. I didn’t know what to think of this. All I knew was that at this moment that screeching, yet whispering creature could not keep taunting me like this. It was the reason for my insomnia, my anxiety, my everything. I kept hearing the faint-menacing whisper. It told me to… to kill my parents. I sat there in shock as “it” sat there in the dark of the corner, grinning.
“No, you’re not real. I won’t do it. I’m not –”, before I could even reply the creature jumped on my bed and stabbed a foreign, sharp object into my ribcage. I felt the cold blade puncture my skin, and the warm blood, trickle down my body; It looked me right in my face with a satanic grin and replied… “I came from the darkness at half past four, I entered your bedroom, but not from the door, If don’t kill them before half past five, no one in your house will be left alive”.
I jolted from my bed. Heart racing, my fingers were clutching my bed sheets. I wiped the sweat off of my forehead and took a few deep breaths. I looked down at my stomach, no stab wound. With a sigh of relief I looked at my alarm clock. “4:28”. I stood up from my bed and looked over at my closet. The door was opened.
I recalled shutting that.. I remembered. I narrowed my eyes and stared at it for a few long-lasting seconds. I then remembered the dreadful nightmare I had, I walked backward into the far right corner of my room and began to motion my body down the wall until I had hit the floor. “No this can’t be happening, this can’t be real. Not me no this isn’t true.” I put my head in between my knees and sobbed. My sobs began turning into laughs. Moments later I lifted and realized I was no longer sobbing, I was laughing. I looked at the clock again.
“4:38”. I jumped to my feet.
“Half past four.” I whispered.
I stood there in shock. What has happened? Could what that creature had said to me be… true? Would it really kill me and my parents if I didn’t kill them myself? Was this creature even real in the first place? …I didn’t want to take any chances, I didn’t like my parents anyways. Especially my father. As a child, he’d compare me to my sister. A smart, successful, brilliant woman.
Unlike me. I’m a horrible insomniatic student who slept through most of their classes and didn’t even try most of the time. My father always told me how much of a failure I was compared to her. God, I hated him so much. My mother on the other hand, wasn’t as bad at torturing me as him. She was much nicer to me. At some points, she’d even yell at my father for being so harsh on me. It didn’t matter now. They were both going to get what they deserved.
I slowly crept down the stairs and made my way into the kitchen. I grabbed a kitchen knife from one of the drawers and looked at the oven clock. “5:08”. I was running out of time. As I walked into my parent’s bedroom I noticed the creature’s small, black, piercing eyes peering at me through the darkness. It was screaming at me, “Do it… DO it.. DO IT!”
I held the knife above my head and screamed “LEAVE. ME. ALONE”. My parents awoke to the image of me standing there holding a knife, about to brutally murder both of them. My father jumped out of his bed, tackling me to the floor. As my father tried to wrestle the knife out of my hand, my mother was calling 911. Less than 10 minutes later the police showed up and lugged me out of the bedroom. As they were dragging me through the halls I looked back at the clock. 5:23. I was so close… this could’ve all been over, if only I’d had a few more seconds. I could’ve finished this…
Seconds after the police officers threw me in the back of the cruiser, I blacked out. I woke up minutes later, the cruiser was driving down a long road to the police station. It was raining. I looked out the window and it seemed as if I went deaf for a moment. All I could hear was a faint whisper in the distance, “It was half past four, now half past five. Neither you or your parents, will be left alive.”
I snapped out of the trance and looked at the clock in the car…
“5:31”. My eyes didn’t leave that clock for what seemed like hours, trying to portray what was going to happen, in my mind. Seconds later, one of the officer’s walkie-talkies starts going off. It’s from the officer who was interrogating my parents at my house.
He said he went to get his notepad out of the car and when he came back… they were dead. They had stab wounds all over their backs and their throats were slit. However, there was one thing that stood out along wreck… The time, “5:30” written in blood on the wall…
“M-my parents, t-they’re… Dead.” The car pulls over to the side of the road and the two officers just sit there…
Unable to comprehend what has just happened. After about 3 minutes of sitting in silence the cruiser starts back up and continues down the road, the men don’t even glimpse back at me. We arrive at the police station minutes later. I was greeted by two muscular men who suited me up in a tight straight-jacket and throw me into a white, padded, windowless cell.
I sit there and think, and think. I can’t remember how long I’ve been thinking at this point. Days? Months? Years? I can’t remember. All I know is that this is my life now… sitting in my padded cell where all my screams for help are ignored and my requests for help are disposed of. I just sit here day after day, after day. Awaiting for this creature to save me from this inescapable nightmare. If you’re reading this then please, I beg of you. Take my advice… Don’t look at the thing in the dark of the cor–
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Thank you for listening. If you’ve enjoyed this episode, please leave a like and a comment. I’d like to thank the listeners and supporters of this program including madjoe, DrJoeBlob, PA Nightmares, Ivy Iverson, John Newby, Lana, Patrick, and Bobbi Elliott. If you would like to support the show and listen commercial free, join me at Patreon. Details on this and other ways to support the program can be found at www.scarystorytime.com/support.
That’s all for tonight. I’ll see you in your nightmares.
