WARNING: This episode includes content not suitable for all audiences. Contains extreme violence and sexual situations.
Welcome to Creepypasta and True Scary Stories. Tonight I have for you four very disturbing scary stories for your listening pleasure. Feel free to listen to my other podcasts Spooky Boo’s Scary Story Time for the fiction horror stories that I write or Midnight Monsters where I talk about urban legends and true frightening stories of the paranormal and horrifying true crime stories. You can also find me Saturday nights watching Creature Features on YouTube and chatting in the chatroom. Find out more about my favorite TV Show at creaturefeatures.tv.
Thank you to the paying members of this show. You can sign up for the commercial-free podcast and the newsletter too at www.spookyboo.club.
Now let’s begin…
The Date
I was at school one day chatting with my friends at lunch, and as we were chatting, there was a girl there that caught my eye. She was a bit of a homely looking girl, but she looked absolutely ravaging to me. I continued on with the school year, but as days went by I became increasingly infatuated with her. During the last week of school, I approached her, and asked for her cell phone number. She accepted, and input her number onto my contacts list, and winked at me. I was so excited, I could barely stop myself from texting her the day after. I held myself back though, and waited a couple days before sending her a message so I didn’t seem clingy or anything. We had begun texting back and forth, talking about what we were each doing for the summer, how our year was, some information about each-other etc. I had been getting up the urge up to ask her out, but before I could, she asked me herself if we could meet up sometime. I happily obliged, and we began talking about times and where we could meet up.
I wasn’t good with planning things, so I let her do most of the deciding. She had wanted me to come over to her house to hang out, and have a BBQ with her parents. It sounded awesome, so I obviously accepted. She gave me her address, and I was going to head over there the next weekend. It wasn’t that far away, so with my new driver’s permit driving over there would be quite easy. She began to be a bit more personal with me after the next few days, and I will admit, we talked about some nasty things, pictures were swapped, and it was incredibly fun. We didn’t show pictures of our faces for privacy reasons, but all the same, it was incredibly amazing. But Friday, the day before I was supposed to meet up with her, we ran into each other at the local grocery store.
I uttered her name, but she seemed bewildered. She told me that wasn’t her name, and then continued to ask me why I have not texted her. I was confused, and told her we’ve been texting for a few weeks now. Her look on her face obviously disagreed with me, but I showed her some of the texts and the phone number. She told me she accidentally got two of the digits mixed up, and we had not been talking at all. I got her actual number, and exited the store in horror. I did not arrive Saturday, and got multiple texts from the “stranger”, asking where I was, what I was doing, but I just ignored them and blocked their number.
Thinking back, they never gave much detail about their family, school, or any relative information at all. After a few weeks, my family and I were watching television, flipping through the channels we found a man being arrested for murder, child pornography, and rape at the same address I was given. Showing his face on the screen, the man I was talking with, the man I sent those pictures to, the man I was going to see, right there in my face.
The Dating Website Experience
About a year ago, I realized that was I extremely lonely. Why I hadn’t realized sooner? I have no idea, even though all the facts were right in front of me, telling me why I was like this. I told myself that I need to put myself out there. I kept telling myself this for two weeks, and I finally got off my ass and decided to try online dating.
I logged onto a website (of which I can no longer find on the internet, so it shall remain nameless) and took a deep breath. I created an account. Nothing weird or abnormal occurred, except that every time I looked away from the website’s glistening gold logo, it looked like it flashed a different color for only a split second. I tried to catch it “in the act” several times and was unsuccessful. I gave up trying this and put my final “bits” of information into the website, including a profile picture, my email confirmation code, and so on. I began searching for women in my area. Surprisingly, I found 17 women, who weren’t much older than I was, in a 1-3 mile radius.
“Damn,” I said to myself.
I was about to say something else when a notification came up from a woman named… let’s call her “Abby”. Abby and I began chatting, exchanging words like “Nice profile picture”, thank-you’s and hello’s and many other words were being thrown around. I noticed that she was almost within walking distance of my apartment, living about 6 blocks down. I was going to ask if she wanted to do something later that day but she took the words right out of my mouth.
I replied with, “Sure! How’s 7 PM for you?”
She said, “Anytime is fine, actually.”
“Ok, well see you then :D.”
“Bye :)”
She left the chat. I started getting ready for what I thought might’ve been the biggest night of my entire life. As I was applying deodorant, I suddenly remembered that I hadn’t told her my address. The worst part was, it was 6:58 PM.
“Shit! I gotta tell her where I-”
I was cut off by a knock at the door. I had no idea what I was about to get into. I walked towards the door and opened it, thinking that I had received a package or something. But this was no package. Maybe a package from hell? I’ll just say it. Abby was standing outside my door.
She said, “Hello, Ray.”
I wanted to ask how she was there but I politely replied, “Hi.”
“You wanna go to that fancy place down the street?” she said.
I was a bit nervous and reluctant to respond. But I thought for a second and said, “Sure.”
We walked out of my apartment and I locked the door. The fact that she had somehow found my apartment no longer concerned me as it did before, what was important was that she was here and I wasn’t lonely anymore. We walked to the restaurant. We stayed and talked for about 2 1/2 hours. We ate excellent food and were treated fairly. She wanted to come back to my apartment, and of course we all know what that means. I said “Sure, it’s up to you”. We ran back to my apartment and that was the official best night of my life. I awoke the next morning with her in my bed.
She greeted me with a, “Good morning, honey.”
I replied with, “Good morning.”
She told me that she had to go, that her brother was coming from Kentucky that afternoon. We got dressed and I said goodbye to her as I walked her to the door. I watched as she crossed the street (this was about a minute or 2 later). She was just walking off the sidewalk, when a car hit her.
I ran down to the street to see if I could “clear her off the streets”. Thank god it was a red light. I ran to where she was but she wasn’t there. Her body, there was no trace of her. I swore to myself as I walked back into my apartment and started up my computer. I wanted to delete my account on that website so bad, I logged on and noticed the “color-changing logo” stayed the color it looked when I looked away. I had one message/notification. It was from Abby.
“Hi Honey, last night was amazing :)”
I didn’t respond. I just deleted my account. I was so done at that moment.
“Never again,” I said to myself, “Never.”
Stalk
“Tell me a story.”
She has the most beautiful eyes and that smile, God in Heaven, that smile. I remember the first time I met her. I had a job on the side, working at a convenience store while studying in college.
The owner paid me under the table to avoid taxes. More often than not, he wasn’t present at work; when he was, he was typically sloshed. He was fond of drink; I was not. I’m no teetotaler, but there was just something discomforting about losing control; I like to be in control.
The job was completely soul-crushing. I stood in a spot for eight hours a day while people threw cigarettes, condoms, and junk food at me to ring up like I didn’t exist. To them, I was merely a dispensary for their vices. Most wouldn’t even look me in the eyes or even bother with a word of introduction; I hated it. I saw them as people. Why couldn’t they see me as a being worthy of dignity? Not even to inquire how my day was going. She did.
The second I saw her, I knew there was something about her. She smiled at me the moment she walked in and ducked into the aisles to make her purchases. Her smile suffused warmth through me. I wasn’t quite the ladies’ man in high school so a smile did go a long way for me. She was gone for a few minutes, but when she re-merged from the aisles, she had food with her.
She said, “Lovely weather we’ve been having.”
In truth, I hadn’t even bothered to look outside since I came in at seven, but I jumped at the opportunity to talk, “Beautiful, really.”
“My name’s Annie.”
“I’m Paul.”
She looked at her purchases as I rang them up and said, “I’ve been really busy with work and everything. I don’t have time to cook everything the air freshener is because my car smells. I haven’t been able to clean- Sorry I’m rambling.”
I responded quickly, afraid she might stop talking, “Don’t be, it’s been a couple hours since I’ve seen another person. Truth is… I’m kinda lonely-”
I paused, fearing I had overstepped my bounds.
Annie looked concerned for a moment before saying, “A guy as cute-looking as yourself must spend his time here chatting up his girlfriend, right?”
I answered with a little bit of embarrassment, “I’m not dating anyone at the moment.”
She paid for her food and said quickly before leaving, “Well, maybe one day we could get together, cook a nice meal and have a little date. Bye Paul.”
She left me flabbergasted before I could respond. Annie, her name was Annie.
That night I dreamt of her. Annie. Don’t think I’m some sort of weirdo. I wasn’t dreaming of her sexually. I’m not a pervert. I just dreamt of her. I dreamt of her warm smile, her flowing hair, her expressive eyes. She had brightened up my day and now she was brightening up my night. I woke up with a smile on my face and actually whistled at work.
My boss noticed my upbeat attitude and slurred, “Hey Paulie, what’s going on? Typically you’re such a Debbie-Downer, a Pessimistic-Paulie even. What’s brightened your day? Meet a girl?” I avoided eye contact and he picked up on it. He pressed, “You did?! Awesome! You give her the D?”
I snapped, “It’s not your business!”
I could see he was a little taken-back. I think that was the first time I had actually snapped at him.
He raised his hands in a mock-defensive gesture and said, “Hey, no offense man! Just joshing as you kids say.”
He left quickly after that, saying he was going to pick up more supplies for the shop, but I knew that he was probably going to go tie-one-on and pass out on his couch in the back of the convenience store. The day only went downhill from there. Annie didn’t show up today. Instead, I was visited by an endless procession of idiots. Even one asshole who stood at the counter for thirty minutes buying scratch tickets and scratching them. Just when I thought he was going to leave, he won fifteen bucks on a ticket and continued to buy more. He eventually left and I made my way home. I never felt it before, but my house felt strangely empty. The only thing I had to look forward to was the thought that I might see her tomorrow.
Annie, sweet Annie. She didn’t show up the next day, but she came in the day after.
She bought some more food and proceeded to check out. I spoke first, “Hey Annie, another busy day at work?”
She looked at me for a few seconds like she didn’t know me before recognition flashed across her face and she said, “…Paul, right? ”
I was a little offended, but I couldn’t stay mad at her. She looked like an angel. Her smile ebbed away my anger.
She said, “Another day, another dollar. I’m going to get fat eating unhealthy like this.” I told her that that was impossible, she looked stunning and maybe I could cook a nice home cooked meal for her one of these days. She paused for a moment before saying, “Yeah, sure. One day.”
She left shortly after.
Annie, you are the empress of my dreams! I know I sound like such a romantic fool, but I can’t help it. She inspires me. She is my muse. She keeps coming to me in my dreams. In my dreams, she owns me. I am hers. I am at her every beck-and-call. Sometimes I dream that I’m cooking for her. Other times, we are having a picnic on a beautiful day. We are playing in the snow. In the arctic dreamscape, I gave her an Eskimo kiss and she returned it. Even once, we made love. It was a magically dream, slow and romantic. I couldn’t wait to see her again.
Annie, you are beautiful! I didn’t see her for another week, but my heart grew fonder in that time apart. When she did show up, I kept the conversation casual. I think I weirded her out a little before. I played in the safe zone and was rewarded greatly. When she reached across the counter to pay, our hands briefly touched. It could have been an accident, but it wasn’t. It was intentional. When she had left, I had to sit down for a minute to catch my breath and still my beating heart.
Annie, I think I love you. It was another couple of days before she came in again. This time it was in the morning. She actually surprised me coming in the morning. She bought a cup of coffee despite my insistence that it tasted terrible. (If I were to be vulgar, I would have told her it tasted like piss and battery acid, but I didn’t dare offend her virginal ears.) She took a sip and told me that it was terrible, but she needed something with bite to get her through the day. I took a gamble and nonchalantly asked where she worked. She said that she worked as a secretary at a notary.
Annie left for work and nothing could contain my grin for the rest of the day. Even my boss coming in drunk and getting sick in the bathroom (Which I had to clean up because he was in no condition take care of it.) couldn’t ruin my mood. I almost thought my face would crack, I was smiling so hard. Annie was opening herself up to me. Pretty soon, I would do the same and she would realize how much we had in common. She would fall madly in love with me and we would live a storybook life.
I thought I loved Annie and now I knew it. The next day when my boss was gone, I left work and drove down to the notary. I didn’t enter the building. I didn’t want to bother her while she was at work. I just felt better knowing that I was closer to her. I felt warmth suffuse my core just knowing that only a couple hundred feet separated us. That’s how I knew it. That’s how I knew I loved her. I waited in my car in the parking lot for three hours and didn’t even get bored. If that’s not love then I don’t know what is.
I made up my mind! I was going to woo Annie. I had that realization after another night spent dreaming of her. She has a hold on me. She has a spell on me. I am completely enchanted. I knew what I had to do to make her love me. I would cook a meal for her! It was perfect. It was unexpected! It was touching! Most of all it was romantic! All I had to do was find out where she lived. A simple enough task. Nothing is a challenge when you’re in love.
I called her credit card company. I had memorized her card number in one of her many visits to the store. I repeated the card number and told her that I would like to change my address. It wasn’t a complete lie. She would move in after I got her to love me. I told her I wanted to make sure the address was current before we filed the change. The worker was hesitant at first, but when I told her that Annie was my wife; she was a little more lenient. She read the address to me and I thanked her from the bottom of my heart. She brought me one step closer to my love.
I was fired a day later. My boss confronted me about skipping work. I told him that I was a little focused on something else. When he said something vulgar, I lost it. He said that maybe I shouldn’t be so focused on getting a certain part of me wet. I punched him. He was fairly intoxicated at the time so my punch leveled him to the ground. I was on him in a flash, raining punches down on him. He was too out of it to properly defend himself. I just kept punching and punching. I’m not sure how much time had passed, but when I realized what I was doing, I got off him. He wasn’t moving, but he was breathing shallow. I left, knowing I could never return.
Annie, you will be mine. I have to make you mine tonight. The police would probably be coming soon. My boss would probably not be stoic about the beating. Tonight was the night. I left my apartment and walked to her house. She was only a few miles away. I didn’t want her to see my car. I wanted it to be a surprise. She lived in a small idyllic house in the suburbs. There was no car in the drive way. She was probably at work. This was going to be everything she wanted and more.
It only took a couple of minutes of searching to find the key for her house. I looked under rocks and in the gutter drainage before I found the key under her mat. I would have to scold her for that. Leaving a key around was dangerous. Any monster could walk in and do whatever they wanted. She was lucky that I had found it first. I unlocked the door and let myself in.
My first thought upon entering the house was that it smelled of pine. Like I was taking a hike in the woods. The living room had a modest television and photos of family and friends. One photo disturbed me. There was a man with his arms wrapped around her waist. He was pulling her close. I knew what had to be done. This man clearly only wanted one thing. He was disgusting. Maybe I should stay here tonight to make sure he doesn’t try anything. A closet or under the bed would be more than accommodating. With love, I could bear any burden or discomfort.
I grabbed the photo and smashed the glass. I tore the photo into hundreds of pieces. My anger threatened to envelope me, but thinking about Annie’s smile calmed me down. I had to get to work cooking up a nice dinner for her. I went into her kitchen and searched around for something to cook. Maybe a romantic Italian dinner by candlelight? I couldn’t find any food in the kitchen. Was it possible she had some food downstairs in the basement? I proceeded downstairs and went to look for a cupboard.
I didn’t find anything. I resigned myself to have to run out and get supplies before I could cook for her. I would have to sleep at her place because mine was probably swarming with cops. It would be better that way. I could do it right. I could make tomorrow’s dinner so romantic. I just wanted to look around her house for a bit longer. The basement was small, but there was a little room at one end. The door was locked, but I found a key right next to the door on a nail. Was it a walk-in pantry? A part of me had hoped to make dinner for her tonight. I guess that’s why I opened the door.
The room was pitch black. The smell of pine was overbearing and I found the source. There were dozens of those little pine tree air fresheners hanging up around the ceiling. I pawed along the wall and found the light switch a few feet away from the door. I flicked it and cast light on the figure in the center of the room. I saw why the air fresheners were so necessary.
There was a man bound in the center of the room. His hands and neck was bound in what I could only think of as a stock. It was a wooden thing with two holes for the hands and one for the head.
He rasped somewhere between a whimper and a supplication, “Please, no more-”
Several instruments went on the padded, well-insulated wall behind him. He was facing away so he couldn’t see them. One of the implements, looked like a whip with the end having frayed into ten strips. It was when I got close that I could see all the damage that had been done to him.
His back had been ripped to bloody shreds. All the blood had dried to a thick shell. The skin on his left hand had been peeled back and the skin hung rotting. He had small cuts and deep gouges along his legs. How long had he been here?
He gasped when he saw me and said, “Please for the love of God, you gotta help me! She’s-”
POP! POPBZZZ!
The sound filled my ears and a sharp stab of what felt like fire stabbed into my back and my muscles seized up. I collapsed on the floor. I craned my neck to look up at Annie holding the taser in her hand. The last thing I saw before losing consciousness was her face breaking into an angelic smile.
When I woke up, I was in the stocks. My head was pointed to the floor, pointed at a large puddle of blood. There were bloody drag marks leading out of the room. She was nowhere to be seen. I was pretty sure I never wanted to see her again. She wasn’t an angel, she was a demon. I can see everything with clarity now. At first I had stalked her, wanting to get closer to her. Now… Heh, now she had me stocked.
“That was an interesting story, my little knight. I loved the beginning, but the ending, well the ending left a little something to be desired. You came so far to get me and now you have me, are you happy? You have my full, undivided attention. I liked the little wordplay at the end, but the ending deserves some castigation. I think you need to be punished. Tonight I’ll use the scourge. This is how I love. I love you Paul.”
I had been single for a while, and I was sick and tired of it. Being 32 and single is no laughing matter; the traumatic experiences of watching your friends get married, have children, and attain the American dream are akin to the hopeless depression of the schizophrenic mental patient. I wanted a wife, I wanted kids, I wanted a steady job. I was tired of working at Burger King and living alone in a studio apartment, and I was almost certain I memorized ninety percent of pornstars on the internet by name. Disgusted by the company of my left hand, I decided to go out to one of those speed dating events.
I picked out my best garb and walked out the door. Keep in mind, I worked at Burger King, so the best clothes I could afford were some mediocre dress shirts and tattered khaki pants I bought at WalMart during a clearance event. I walked into the event, trying to display the shred of confidence I had left. I was instantly discouraged when I saw all the other competing males and their Armani suits, high class whiskey in hand, and auras reeking of nothing but pure self esteem and conceit. The ladies there were dressed in fine dresses, some of them quite low cut, and smelled like a flower garden designed by Martha Stuart herself. There were some serious lookers in there, and I swear my pants shrunk a couple sizes at the sight of some of these dresses.
The speed dating started. The first girl I sat down with was quite young; a 22 year old mother of three. She had made a lot of mistakes in her life, and seemed far more than I could handle. Right off the bat she told me about how she was four days sober from methamphetamine and was looking to settle down with a nice man who didn’t look like a walrus. I spent the next four minutes making general small talk, quite literally fearing for my life. Once that buzzer sounded, I rocketed out of my chair with the speed of a gazelle. The young woman seemed offended. But honestly, what did she expect?
The next woman was way too old for me. I had thought that these events were age regulated and had different meetings for people in different stages of life. I’m no pervert, but the whole idea of taking her shirt off and seeing two runny eggs nailed to the wall did not appease me. My decision was finalized as soon as she brought up her grandkids; I can hardly handle one generation of young ones, much less two. I actually asked her if she needed help getting out of her chair after the buzzer sounded… Again, another dark look. I was batting 0 for 2, but such pitches were ones that I would gladly let the catcher have.
The next woman seemed much more appealing. She was 26 and studying to be a nurse at a local hospital. She loved kids but had none of her own, which was a relief to me. She seemed well kept and stable, and wasn’t a bad looker either. No lie, my eyes did wander a bit south a couple times during the meeting. She either didn’t notice or didn’t care, as she never pointed it out. I asked her if she’d like my number as the session ended, and she consented. I flipped open my phone and entered her number as she read it out. Smiling at her and thanking her for her listening ear (no wonder I had been single for so long…) , I got up to the next table. While doing so, I closed my phone by accident and realized that I never saved her number, so it was lost forever. For the love of… 0 for 3.
The next table was empty. What a joke. If I wanted to sit and stare at a wall, I would have stayed home. Nothing really to say here. Moving on.
This is where the story begins getting dark. The woman I met at the next table was the most interesting of all, but not in a bad way. She had long, flowing dark hair and green eyes. She had this cute smile and man, what a tight body on this one. Black dress, black shoes, black everything. For someone dressed in such a gothic manner, she had such a bubbly personality. Everything I said made her giggle, and I felt like a king just talking to this girl.
She was 27 and currently unemployed. She was married to a husband before, but he had left her after their two children died of leukemia. She told me that the cancer was entwined with her lineage, dating back as far as the eighteenth century; therefore, in numerous fits of emotional rage, her ex husband blamed her for giving the children cancer and left. Too pained by the loss of her entire family, she moved to the city a few weeks ago and was living on unemployment, unable to continue working at her job due to the crippling depression and panic she suffered as a result of her abandonment.
Despite the torment in her life, she never seemed depressed about it. Either she was incredibly optimistic about life or she was one of the best actors I had ever seen; either way, I was willing to take a shot. I asked her if she’d like my number. It turned out that she had some bad meetings at this particular convention herself, and wanted to take off to do something more fun. She tossed me an invite and, seeing as I was a lonely 32 year old man, she didn’t have to ask twice.
I never understood what she saw in me over all the other guys. I was beaten and broken with no aspirations to better my current situation. Maybe she understood how I felt, considering all the pain she felt herself, and decided to get to know who I really was under this cocoon of emotionless insecurity. I sensed a thread of compassion intertwined between all that stress and trauma, willing to lend an ear to anyone that felt the same pain as her. I was truly transfixed by her presence, drawn to her character. I had never felt like this before.
We decided to go to a pool hall. Apparently she used to be a regular at another pool hall by her old house, winning local tournaments and making a name for herself, and she wanted to check out the scenery here. I wasn’t too shabby at the table game myself, so I was excited. Every shot she made was perfect; the balls just sank into the pockets like each pocket was a black hole just waiting for something to trespass into its field. Out of the seventeen games we played, I think I made around 23 shots. She just kept running the table. It was funny, because she kept apologizing for being so good. I waived the apology and complimented her on her skill, causing her to giggle more. Every time she laughed, I fell harder and harder. And, to be honest, I was always excited when the cue ball landed on my side of the table. You know, ’cause she bent over to take her shots, as many pros do. Heh.
We left after that. She said she had to get home as she had some errands to run, being new in the neighborhood and all. I agreed, since I had a Facebook application that I had to update (obviously I didn’t give her that reason. Jesus, what the hell is wrong with me? Passing up an amazing girl for Facebook? Egh…), so we exchanged numbers and parted ways. I couldn’t believe it, I had actually scored a beautiful woman. Hell yeah.
Weeks and months passed on. We continued to talk and eventually began regularly dating. The relationship moved pretty quickly and it seemed we were truly matched for each other. After about seven months of dating, I asked her to marry me. I popped the question on the seventeenth, as that’s how many games we played on our first date. She found that so romantic and flew into my arms, screaming yes to the skies. Things were finally looking up.
I moved out of my shitbox apartment and into her home. I always admired the cozy feel of her two bedroom ranch house. Something perfect to start a family in. As I was moving my final things in, I noticed how much of a mess I was making, with my boxes of stuff and all. I apologized and motioned to the basement to finish moving my things. Her face instantly darted to mine. In a hurried and almost frantic voice, she assured me that she’d take care of the rest of my things and that I should relax. It was a bit odd, sure, but she had been through so much excruciating sadness throughout her life that her having a psychiatric illness is something I expected. I complied with her request.
The next few months were great. We never got tired of each other, and, on our wedding day, the kiss we shared on that alter was so special that I firmly believe angels surrounded us and serenaded us with harps and trumpets as our lips connected and sparked so brightly that the entire room was illuminated. I’ll leave out the details of the honeymoon as this is not a pornographic piece. She was always leery of me approaching the forboding basement, sometimes to the point of arguing with me about it, but, aside from that, I didn’t see any fault in her.
Until everything I knew about life was shattered.
One day, she told me she was going to the grocery store. I noted that I wanted some ground beef in order to make hamburgers for dinner. She smiled at me with that cute, adorable smile I had grown to know and love and headed out. After climbing Burger King’s corporate ladder, I had finally attained the position of regional financial manager for the entire state. I was working on some budget information, assessing the costs of all the franchises across the state. It was a long and arduous process, but I was getting just above six figures for it, so I wasn’t complaining. After each report was fully completed and evaluated, I moved the files to a USB drive so I could upload them to a computer for a corporate meeting the next day. To my horror, with only three reports left to finish, the computer crashed. If I didn’t finish these reports, I would surely lose my job.
I called my wife, asking her if she had another computer or something I could use, but she didn’t answer. I rummaged through the house to find something to finish these reports with to no avail. Desperate times called for desperate measures, so I took the daring risk of approaching the basement. The handle was unusually cold and the door was locked. Frustrated and defeated, I slumped to the couch in a depression. That is, until I realized that there was a specific flower pot that my wife always guarded with her life. On a hunch, I went to it and found the key at the bottom of the pot, under the dirt.
As soon as I opened the door, a rancid and tangible odor attacked me like a falling wall from a decrepit building. The entire basement looked as if it was wasting away; a clear contrast to the rest of the house. The heavy layers of dust upon every surface suggested that the basement hadn’t been accessed in years. Using my cell phone as a flashlight, I guided myself down the stairs and flicked a light switch. Surprisingly, the bulb still worked.
The walls looked molded, the wood was breaking down, the stench was putrid, and the entire place was in disarray. I encountered a strong sense of dysphoria after setting foot in the room, so I quickly searched for some old computer with the intent of running upstairs as quickly as possible. To my luck and astonishment, there was an old laptop and charger in the corner, hidden under some boxes and books. Oddly enough, one of the boxes was one which she brought down after I had first moved in. I had not seen some of this stuff in a long time… Ignoring the nostalgia, I seized the computer and charger and raced up to the master bedroom.
After giving the laptop a few minutes of power, I booted it up. It ran on Windows XP and was quite the technological dinosaur compared to modern equipment, but it had Microsoft Office so it was acceptable. As soon as windows finished booting up, a system message appeared on the screen notifying me that new sources had been added to the tagged video cache, and if I’d like to check it. I had never seen a system message like this before. I know that snooping is generally taboo, but curiosity overcame me.
I was taken to a hidden file that required a password to access it. Rolling my eyes, I moved my cursor to X out of the program when suddenly, something typed the password in for me. A bit frightened at this point, I was sucked into the screen. There were four videos, entitled HIM.avi, ONE.avi, TWO.avi, and WHY.avi. All four thumbnails were pure black. Curious, I clicked on the file entitled HIM.avi. I should have never done that.
The video was extremely shaky and grainy. I could barely make out the figure of a man tied to a chair with some sort of a metallic rope. A woman, moving as if she was floating on air, not moving a single bone in her body but yet being able to slowly hover around the room, came into the picture. To my horror, she brought out a knife and started slowly cutting the man. The man screamed in brutal pain as the woman slowly cut him to pieces. Blood poured from his mouth and all his lacerations as the woman dug the knife in deeper. His clothing was slowly stripped from his body and, after each article was removed, she used a lighter to set all of the newly exposed hairs on fire. Covered in horrific burns and terrifying cuts, the man had stopped screaming and was now simply bawling. He occasionally screamed out, “WHY?!”, for that was all he could muster. Each time he did, the woman stabbed him again. She began laughing as the man began vomiting blood and entrails. She picked up the small solid pieces of the vomit with the knife and slowly licked the knife clean, giggling like a schoolgirl. She then proceeded to gouge the man’s left eye out while he was still alive. I couldn’t watch anymore, so I closed the video.
Shaken and horrified, I clicked on ONE.avi. I had to know what was going on. This time, it was a young boy, about eight years old, bound into the chair. He looked confused and innocent. I shook my head and fell into tears. Such a thing was not about to befall this boy…
This video was of the same quality as the last one; however, the background was much brighter. They seemed to be in an abandoned household, falling apart and in ruin. The woman floated over to the boy, much like she did in the last video, and kissed him gently on the cheek. She slowly brought heat lamps (the source of the brightness mentioned before) over to the boy, one by one, until the entire video was white. After a while, the camera was dimmed so that the boy could be seen again. The innocent look once seen in the beginning of the video turned into one of excruciating pain. The heat lamps slowly began burning his clothes and skin. Bubbles and blisters began rapidly forming on his skin as he too screamed in pain. As with the man in the last video, he screamed “WHY?!”, and was punished each time by being brutally lashed with a belt studded with pieces of what appeared to be broken glass. The blisters began to boil as the child was roasted alive. Eventually the screaming stopped and the boy fell into seizures. At this point, the same giggling in the last video could be heard again, this time even louder. She then took a knife and carved “I DESERVED THIS” into the child’s melting torso as he screamed. Eventually, the boy stopped moving. I closed out at that point.
I needed to see the next one. I had to witness this. This had to be stopped. With such a determination, I clicked on TWO.avi. This time, there was no one strapped to the chair; instead, an infant car seat was in the chair with what seemed to be a newborn infant tightly strapped inside. Like the previous videos, a woman floated over to the child. She rubbed its head and briefly went off camera. She came back with a syringe and violently stuck it into the child’s body, injecting a blue liquid into the child. Unique to the collection, the video began fast forwarding. At first, the infant seemed normal, happy, smiling, and carefree.
As the fast forwarding progressed, the child grew more and more uncomfortable. It started coughing and wheezing. It began puking up a white liquid and began crying, almost as if it too was saying “WHY?!”. A dark bottle was briefly placed in front of the camera, and the words TASTY JUICE were written upon it. The bottle was turned over to reveal its contents; a blue liquid that sizzled when it reached the ground. Bloodcurdling screams erupted from the baby as it fell into more of an unstable condition. As the shrieking child grew closer to death, the same giggling in the previous videos presented itself, but, this time, it was far louder than before. Determined to make it to the end, I fixated my eyes upon the screen despite how much they were tugging at me to look away. The woman was screaming in laughter louder than the baby was at this point. She floated over to the child again, unstrapped it, grabbed it by the legs, and, to my utter shock, swung it head first as hard as she could at the wall. The child’s head exploded upon impact, leaving cranial viscera and fluids draped all over the wall. The video then went black.
Shaking, I forced myself to click on WHY.avi. Before the video played, I noticed that this file was modified within the last hour. Almost blinded by fear, I swallowed my apprehension and opened my eyes. This time, there was just the woman. No other person was present. She was facing away from the camera and was speaking in a demonic tone. I can’t recall exactly, but here’s a paraphrased transcript of what she said.
“Hello. Clearly by now you know that I’m not the person you thought I was. I’m a sick and twisted woman. I love this. It makes me so happy to see somebody die, especially at my hand. I know you’re watching this, and I know you’re terrified. The ghosts of those I have killed are swarming around you right now, telling you to pull away from the screen, to save yourself. Yet you still sit there and watch, waiting for some happy ending or reasonable explanation as to the events you have just witnessed. There are no special effects here; what you saw was real. I love watching this footage, even so much as to pleasure myself to it, but I had to hide it. You couldn’t know. Your lonely piece of shit brain would tell you to turn me in. You were so desperate for love… You fell in love with a serial killer.”
The woman turned around instantly and I recognized the face of my wife. I couldn’t even feel emotion at this point. I didn’t know what to think. My memory had fallen to pieces. I didn’t know where I was, or who I had been, or what I was about to go through. Everything in my life died as I saw the once happy and bubbly eyes that I once saw in my wife become vapid and emotionless. A smile crept across her face, one that makes me quiver in malaise upon the slightest thought of it. This wasn’t possession. This wasn’t mental illness. This was just… Evil. So evil. The video continued.
“It’s quite a shame. I really loved you. We had this passion. Hehehe. Remember the giggle? I made you fall in love with me. I tricked you. I lied to you. And, wanna know the best part? I knew you would find out. I couldn’t keep the secret forever. Eventually you’d find the key to the basement, eventually the stench would become too strong, eventually the decaying foundation would begin to topple the house, and eventually you’d finally realize that my children never had leukemia and that my husband never left… I killed them. And, they’re closer than you think. Why do you think the basement smells so bad? You’d be surprised how easy it is to cement human remains into the floor. You stepped on my dead children and husband. Feel proud of yourself?
“I…
“I know you’re watching this. I just made this video. I know what you’ve done.”
I began shaking my head, fearing what I knew I was about to hear. A cold sweat crept upon me as I suddenly felt two eyes bore into the back of my head. I was paralyzed.
“Those noises you’re hearing aren’t the pipes. Turn around.”
I slowly turned and froze as I met the psychotic eyes of my wife. She began to giggle.
I don’t know what happened after that. I’ve been told by the police that people heard screams coming from my house during my attempted murder and called the police. I was told by physicians that I was violated with the sharp end of a screwdriver and that she placed a block of hot ice on my lap. I was tied to a chair, the same one as was used in previous videos, and was videotaped. All the videos are now in police custody, and I refuse to see mine.
My wife was given the death penalty. I was present at the execution. Her last words were to tell me that she would never leave me, that she would always know where I was, that she would never give up on my murder and that she never left a job unfinished. She was sure to tell me that I would see her again, that she’d send another minion to finish the job. She finished by telling me that I would never be safe. Ever.
She survived the first three attempts at lethal injection but died on the fourth. She was smiling, and she giggled like a little schoolgirl right before she died.
I have been through extensive therapy, and, years later, I have been able to overcome the horrific trauma I saw and experienced. I still make six figures a year, I have made a good network of friends, and my life has been incredible. I feel accomplished and successful, something I never felt before. I am now confident. So confident, in fact, that I am going on a date tonight with a girl. She’s cute too, with this long, dark, flowing hair and vibrant green eyes.
that was kind of hot. i want more like this. i don’t suppose you would ever tell naughtier stories with that delicious voice of yours? i might pay you. can i write you a script?