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Good evening, it’s Spooky Boo coming to you from the lighthouse in Sandcastle, California. Tonight I have for you two very spooky creepypasta stories from the depths of the internet about demons and death. Those two topics do go together, don’t they? For in Sandcastle you usually do not find one without the other!
Now let’s begin…
The Chains
A Creepypasta
I want to share with you something that happened to me in the past.
Well, I say it happened anyway. One part of me says it was just an odd dream I had as a child, however another feels that I can’t refute it as simple fiction or something that was simply conceived in my mind. Before the event, and even after it, I had not experienced any sort of hallucinations, auditory or visual, and I’m really not prone to dreams of this sort either, especially ones so vivid.
The subject of Hell and “the Devil” was brought up frequently in my family growing up, mainly just as a bogeyman of sorts for us kids. At the time of this… Occurrence, I most likely didn’t see any correlation between these ramblings and what I experienced, however years of pondering have made me think about it, to say the least.
It was probably around eleven PM, at least after ten because that’s when my grandmother (with whom I live) left for work when she was working her old job. Ten to five every night she worked.. I know it had to have been hard on her, though the one she’s working right now isn’t much better. I, my grandfather, and my younger brother were the only ones in the house at the time, and it was just like any other Saturday night in the house (perhaps it was Sunday? Regardless, I hadn’t had school that day, and I was free the next day as well).
Laying in my bedroom floor, with nothing better to do, I had been looking through and arranging the cards in my Yu-Gi-Oh binder. I honestly didn’t have too many friends at the time due to a… Well, let’s just say an ‘unfriendly’ school environment, so I primarily collected trading cards just for the sole purpose of doing so. My brother had been fast asleep since around nine, and my grandfather was up playing solitaire on his computer, a pass-time that you’ll still find him doing today; the house was completely silent besides the ticking of clocks and the occasional mouse-click I heard from his room. I can’t remember what exactly was going through my mind, other than the constant pressure my grandparents had been putting on me to keep straight A’s going through middle school, despite each day that I attended being essentially a living hell. I suppose my cards and video games were my only release from it all, though at the time I found particular respite in my cards: going over them, building decks, thinking about how I would fair in an actual game with them (like I’d ever have the luxury of playing it with other kids), etc. I digress.
Laying on the bedroom floor with no one in the house up and about, I was simply enjoying the peace and quiet that I finally had to myself (my bickering grandparents’ fighting 24/7 usually ensured that I rarely had any) until I began to hear what sounded like faint tapping on the roof, or at least above the ceiling in my room. I frowned, looking up for an explanation, however nothing was out of the ordinary, so my young self assumed it must have been on the roof. I got up and walked down the hallway into my grandpa’s bedroom and told him about the noise, to which he stated it was most likely a squirrel. Looking back, this was an odd explanation, because for the most part squirrels are diurnal creatures, though I accepted it for what it was. I also thought to myself that it also could have been a mouse or the like, scampering up above. With that, I came back to my room and resumed my hobby without another thought to it, the noise having apparently stopped before I returned.
I’m not certain as to whether or not the aforementioned was something as mundane as a small rodent padding about or not, though I’ve wondered if it has any connection with what happened next, as it had never happened before that night, and it never happened afterward. What did happen next, though, is something that can’t be described as ordinary, or even possible depending on your views or system of beliefs.
I figured I was just getting tired, and that it was ultimately this that lead me to begin hearing the tapping noises, so I shut my binder of cards and put it away before turning off the lights and climbing into bed.
There were a couple of things that were unusual, however, one of which being the fact that my cat, whom always stayed with me, following me around the house, etc, was not there in my bed as he usually was. I was used to having him there, and it was really comforting to have him there, as even at that age I was just getting over my fear of the dark. The only times he wasn’t there is when he was sick, which wasn’t very often despite his age. Another thing was that I, even in the small room that I occupied, felt like there was something watching me; that I wasn’t alone. That there was another presence that couldn’t be seen.
Yeah, I know it sounds like the classic “monster under the bed” story, but at the time I honestly felt that there was something there with me, and that it wasn’t friendly. Despite all of this, I rolled over and tried to fall asleep (it wasn’t the first time I had these sort of fears, being a childhood Nyctophobe), closing my eyes as it was much more comfortable for me to do so than to stare at the dark shadows within the room.
However, my eyes flew open when I heard a rather peculiar, unnerving sound coming from the outside. Seemingly out of nowhere, I began to hear what sounded like chains rattling together, like the clinking of prison chains. I was clearly scared of what was going on, hell, I still get chills thinking about it today. I turned onto my back and sat-up in the bed, gripping my cover tightly as I pulled it over me. I waited and waited for what seemed like hours, but the noise never subsided, nor did the feeling that I had an unwelcome guest. A choir of what sounded like unintelligible whispers joined this awful ensemble, amplifying the thick feeling of dread filling the room.
This thing, this malevolent being wanted to be noticed, and its presence was becoming more and more physical and “real” by the moment.
It was under my bed, and for whatever reason, it wanted me.
The voices and rattling became louder and louder until finally it was way too much to handle. I leapt from my bed, as to get as far away from the opening underneath as possible, and literally ran into my grandfather’s room, where I ended up sleeping for the rest of the night.
Once again I felt secure; the voices faded, the chains stopped, and whatever was there was no longer with me.
Whatever happened that night has never happened again, neither has anything even remotely similar. I remember telling my grandfather about the events that happened that night, and him telling me an old tale about how the prisoners of Satan are marched into Hell bound in chains. Thinking back on it now, that sounds ridiculous, though all I do know is that whatever it was, whether it was a warning to me not to stray from the path of righteousness, or something malicious that simply wanted me myself, I’m not sure.
Whatever the case may be, I’m hoping for some feedback, or thoughts on the matter. Maybe getting other people’s views on the subject will help me out, maybe give me the chance to look at what happened from a different vantage point…
After all, I have always hated being bound to one view on things.
Both
I’m dead. Both of us are. Me and my girlfriend. Even up until now I can hear her whisper in my head, and it continues to torment me. She’s in hell, and I’m here in the middle of nowhere, with only infinite whiteness surrounding me in all directions.
My God, please save us.
We tried to contact the Devil the night before we died. We followed a ritual our friend told us over lunchbreak. But it went wrong. One of the candles we used for the ritual was defective, and it burned out halfway through the ritual. The Devil was able to manifest himself physically, and he took us both with him to hell. Looking back, I know now that our “friend” was to blame for this. He wanted this to happen to us. He knew that we’d get curious about the ritual and try it out ourselves so that we’d go to hell. So that I’d go to hell. The cashier from the supermarket, too. She was must have conspiring with him, and didn’t tell us that the candles we were using were defective. She must have known we were going to do the ritual, so she placed the pack with the defective candle on top of the shelves so that we’d pick them. They planned this. They should go to Hell. They should go to Hell a million times over.
My God, please save us and curse them for eternity.
The Devil brought both of us to this world of infinite white. He told us that he “loved playing with humans”, and that “he’ll play with us too”. It was then that I knew fear far beyond any nightmare or anything on Earth can possibly give a human. We were at the mercy of the very incarnation of Evil himself, and I swear the fear alone could have killed me, had I been alive at the time.
My God, please save us.
He told us that he’d send one of us to Hell, and the other would have to go through “a lot of pain, but not quite Hell.” One of us was going to remain in this white world, and the other will go to a lake of fire in infinite darkness. Whoever was in the white world can wish to switch places with the one in darkness, and the person in the darkness will have all of his thoughts whispered into the other’s head. This was his “game”, and he told us that this “game” was never going to end, because he hated “ends”.
My God, you know how much suffering we’ve been through, please save us.
He took me first to the lake of fire. There are no words to describe the pain I felt in that black world. I could see nothing, almost as if my eyes have been gouged out of their sockets. I could hear the loud flames burn without light, and the pain ravaged every part of my body. I screamed as loud as I could for as long as I could, until my vocal cords were physically unable to do so. I was still trying to scream, not out of wanting someone to hear me, but out of the pain. I could do nothing but scream as every inch of my flesh was scorched by the flames in infinite darkness.
My God, why have you not saved me from there?
After a day or so of torment, the flames suddenly stopped. I opened my eyes and suddenly realized that I could see again. I was there in the world of infinite white. My girlfriend switched places with me. An indescribable feeling of gratitude and relief came over me, but it was suddenly replaced by guilt and dread. I could hear her screams in my head, and I knew that she was in my place. She was begging to be saved by me, seeking for the redemption I hold in my hands. Listening to her voice in pain reminded me of what I have experienced myself in that inferno, and every memory of that place has been burned into my mind like a hot iron brand on my skin. The pain in her voice made me feel the guilt of having her save me, but the fear of going back there stopped me from calling the Devil to save her.
My God, why have you given humans hearts to hurt themselves with?
Come the fourth day of being in that white world, and I still haven’t been able to get a wink of sleep. Brief periods of giving in to drowsiness came to me time and time again, but her screams would turn my rests into nightmares, and I’d suddenly wake up to remember what torment it is that I’m in. I’d have visions of her locking me up in that lake of fire and returning to her daily life as if nothing has happened, leaving me to suffer there for eternity. I wanted to save her from her pain, but the fear keeps me paralyzed and unable to do so. I have tried begging for the Devil to get us out of here, but he has not yet answered. For I know that he is only interested in seeing us suffer, and will only answer to me once I tell him that I will go back to that inferno.
My God, when will this trial of yours finally end?
By the seventh day, her screams of pain have quieted down a little. Occasionally, I’d hear her cries for redemption, but more often than not, I’d be hearing far worse things from her. She was cursing me, with resentment and anger in her voice. She wanted me to get her out of there very, very badly. She’d express her deep hatred for me, cursing me, shaming me, blaming me for my cowardice in not letting her go free from that place. I’d remember the times when we were happy, the times we were together, the times when we thought we were inseparable. Back when we were alive, back when I believed that we were truly meant to be together, with nothing able to break what it is we had together. But now, all of those times seem like distant dreams from where I am today. Now that I live through endless pain from ripping apart the bonds which used to make the entirety of me, I have truly understood the true meaning of loss. I thought that our love could transcend all barriers, but alas, love does not survive through pain. As I listen to her endlessly curse our relationship, our experiences and the entirety of me, I feel the pain she goes through in that dark world.
Oh God, why is love so fragile?
Today marks the tenth day of the two of us being trapped here. I still cannot find the strength in me to set her free, for fear and sadness are devouring what’s left of my humanity. But she no longer curses me. She no longer screams or weeps or threatens me. She whispers into my head sweet words, but I know that those words are loaded with poison. She tells me that she has found a way out of this place. She tells me that she knows how she can keep me safe. She tells me that she loves me, and that I should show her how much I love her. She tells me that she can give me rest, from everything that has been tormenting me. She tells me that she can give me the peace I long for – the peace I have not found in this place ever since we have been here.
The words are sweet, but the intent is deadly. All she wants me to do is to get her out of there, and I know that all she has said to convince me has been a lie. I know that she just wants to abandon me in that world of pain and darkness, and leave me there forever while she stays in this world of endless white. I know that with my mind, but somehow my heart wants to get her out of there. My heart wants to believe in her. Not because of love or trust or anything of the sort. It’s because I don’t want to be here any longer. I’m too tired to think about anything at all, for I have already experienced all kinds of pain in this white world I am in. There is no longer any hope of getting out, and there’s nothing good left for me here any longer. I may be afraid of the pain in that place of darkness, but beyond that, her words make me feel like she can truly give me the rest I long for. The rest I have desired for so, so long.
Of all of my prayers, you have answered none,
But this time I beg you, please listen to your Son
For the last he’ll ever ask, is what the Devil did not tell:
Of the two worlds he’s been in, which one truly was hell?
As I’m sure you know, I never did like you. I never liked the way you looked, and I never liked the way you spoke. I never liked the language you would use or the very sound of your voice. If I am to be completely honest, I never truly liked a single thing about you. You, brother, are a monster in disguise and have disgusted me in every way ever since the day you were born.
Father always liked you most. He would sing to you and tell you stories of distant lands and strange creatures; mere fairy-tales. He could not see the truth. You hid yourself well, but you could not hide from me, brother. What I saw in your eyes only angered and terrified me.
We were left alone together, in a distant land like those that father spoke of. I reached for you, brother, but you turned on me. You pushed me aside and I hated you for that.
In the end everyone loved you, brother, but people stayed away from me because you always told them to. People only trusted you because you would force them to. Your ability to persuade even the strongest of us with such ease has never ceased to amaze me. If they could only see what you really are.
All our instincts would tell us to run from you, brother, but the great influence you had on people I have always detested. They were all puppets and you pulled the strings. You were in control and I know that you liked it.
I have certainly tried to help you do the right thing; choose the path that was always meant for you. You could have done so many wonderful things, brother. You had the power to change the world for the better and I have tried to show you this, but you seldom listened. You only encouraged the blind fools as you led them to their deaths.
People like you, brother, have turned the whole world upside down and no one can see it. You are dangerous and you have powers far beyond their wildest dreams; powers that they fear the most and you have used them to hurt those that choose not to conform.
Slowly but surely people will begin to see you for what you are; a liar and a cheat. You make the rules, but you do not play fair. I shall reluctantly admit that I have tried to play your game, but your rules have never been kind to me. I have suffered, brother.
You are a monster, brother, fooling the weak and vulnerable; stealing their souls and crushing their lives. But no more…
Why, brother, after all these years, do you carry that burden around your neck? When things are beginning to fall into place, people are beginning to see the light. You shall return to the place from which you came. Only the fire fuelled by our fury can save us now as we burn. Finally we are on our way.
As I said, I never did like you. That is why I hurt you so. I crushed your soul with my bare hands. You won’t do well in Hell, brother…
Signed, the Devil
I remember when things were normal, when I was truly alone and didn’t have to worry about where I stepped, where I looked, what I spoke to. I just wanted to be a regular vet; care for animals, have a few kids, a loving husband, a simple life. That was taken from me when I suffered the “Awakening.”
I had to have been close to twelve years old, the whole thing was written off as a mental break due to stress and abuse. They could not have been any farther off the mark.
My mother was a pagan. I say “was” because she is deceased and has been since the accident. She had a habit of playing with things that, I now understand, she had no real understanding of.
On this particular day I was sitting in the far corner of her bedroom, a novel gripped in my hands. She sat with a few of her coven mates on her bed, dark hair covering most of her body as she spoke to them. What was talked about? In all honesty, I’ve not the slightest idea. I was far too engrossed in the book to care about her playing with the Ouija board.
I suppose I should mention, for the sake of not missing any crucial details, why it was I sat in that particular corner.
That corner was cold, almost bitterly so, no matter the time of year. My mother avoided it, saying something was standing there that did not like her. I never had such a problem as; One, I could not see it and two, the corner always felt welcoming to me. It’s a feeling I cannot describe but, I will do my best to describe it for you.
I was both beaten and starved if I misbehaved in any manner, sometimes I would be beaten for hours or starved for days. This little corner though? If I was sitting here, no one would dare to touch me. I was welcomed here. Loved, cherished, and comforted. Mother did say once that the thing in the corner seemed to like to watch me draw or read.
In any case, on this day, Mother had made a grave mistake. Some time passed as she spoke wildly to her friends when the paddle moved on the board. I simply ignored their continued bursts of excitement and instead chose to read aloud to distract myself. This time, I felt a presence. One I hadn’t felt before. Normally the corner gave me a feeling. A subconscious tender loving, but now, I felt someone with me. The corner only grew colder. I was accustomed to this and had carefully clothed myself in a sweater, sweatpants, socks, shoes, and a beanie.
However, this time, arms enclosed me in a hug and my eyes widened. I realize it meant me no harm but, when I looked up, the women were staring. Mouths hanging open and staring. Not at me but, at the board. At some point they had begun writing down what was said to them. I did not know yet what had been said buy, based on the looks, I would say it was not good.
They fled or.. TRIED to flee. Try as they might, they could not open the door, the window would not break. Through this all, I wasn’t even mildly worried. I was a bit intrigued by the black masses that seemed to slowly invade the room. They pulled from objects in the room, the floor, the bed. The manner in which they floated up reminded me of a lava lamp. The gooey mass of wiggling black ink.
They began taking shape and by this time the women were huddled together in a trembling mass. The thing behind me spoke, a deep male voice slid from behind me. It left a feeling in my body, one of warm whiskey, burning subtly and numbing as it flowed.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said, his voice echoing off the walls in a distinct and almost unnerving way.
My mother had lost all her color, instead she looked more like a ghost. Her body trembled as he spoke again.
“You toy with things you do not comprehend. Ridiculous little mortals. You think to sacrifice your own kin to get a response from us?” he asked in an almost condescending tone.
My Mother cracked out, ” I was only joking, I didn’t mean to cause an upset or-”
He interrupted her and his arms tightened around me.
“This child is worth more than anything you have to offer, not her blood but, her soul. You are worthless. No more than a show that bore her. You’ve finally made a mistake. Should not one say goodbye before they walk away from that dinky board?”
The growl in his voice at the end finally prompted me to look up. Just above me was a human like face. The general shape was that of a man, one in his early twenties. His eyes glowed like fresh lava, teeth needle-like, the inside of his mouth glowing in the same manner. Horns adorned his head, arm horns, ram ears. He doesn’t acknowledge my curiosity. I look back to the group and my eyes widen. The black blobs have become monsters. Grotesque, contorted, beasts. Things I cannot hope to describe. Masses of teeth and mouths, eyes looking everywhere. Little balls of hunger and malice.
A deep throaty chuckle escaped the thing behind me and the balls zipped faster than the eye can see. Ripping pale flesh off of faces, tearing clothing in their haste to eat. Blood curdling screams ripped through the still air of the room. I gag and close my eyes, tears welling up. The thing turned me to his chest and gently petted my hair.
The screams rapidly deteriorated into gurgles and faint gasps before vanishing all together. I was trembling in the creature’s arms as it gently cooed to me like one would a baby.
“All done little one. No more torment for you.”
I woke a few days later in the hospital. Tubes attached to my arms, the faint rhythmic beeping in my ears. He was perched on my bed. His head tilted and a smile cracking his face, sharp teeth coming together with a clack.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
For years now he has been with me. He asks me for nothing, but follows, commenting on things he sees. He’s not alone either. Creatures surround the world that used to be empty. Gaping jaws, searching eyes, and body less screams. They dart about. They lurk. They consume.
When they consume, you are gone. Simply here one moment. Gone the next. They were right when they said that people don’t just disappear. They forfeit their souls to these demons. One of which has decided I make a good companion.
So many I have watched die. So many I have watched be eaten alive by things no one else can see. Monsters. Demons. Creatures of darkness and misery.
Let me warn you now, before you fall prey. Keep yourself clean. Be a good person. The moment your soul is darkened. You are at risk.
I have watched. I know.
They can smell filthy souls. Some wait and torment you in dreams or misfortune. Some make you ill. Some eat you alive or kill those you hold close. It’s all a punishment.
You will die.
One way, or another.
They will have your soul.
