This program is meant for mature audiences and those not offended by spooky content and can be found on YouTube, Apple Podcasts, Spotify, and other podcast platforms. Visit www.scarystorytime.com to get your favorite link.
Good evening, it’s Spooky Boo coming to you from the cool crisp fog of Sandcastle, California. I’m sitting here this evening in the safety of the lighthouse broadcasting from the KSND radio waves. It’s cool and foggy out tonight with a bit of rain and thunder. It’s probably a good thing as it keeps the citizens in their homes and the monsters at bay. No one really wants to be taken by surprise by a Sandcastle monster and it may be their last night on Earth, at least as a human.
Tonight I have for you 3 very creepy stories about demons and hell.
But first, I’d like to thank my listeners and Patreon members including madjoe, PA Nightmares, Ivy Iverson, John Newby, Patrick, and 933TheVolt.com. If you would like to support the show via Patreon please visit my Patreon page at www.patreon.com/spookybooscarystorytime or, if you would rather buy a t-shirt, mug, or make a donation through Venmo, PayPal or other means visit https://www.scarystorytime.com/support. You can also show support by sharing the website and episode links with your friends. It is really very helpful and I do appreciate it a lot.
Now let’s begin…
Deathbed Table
A Creepypasta by MrAnon
Thank you all for coming. I am glad to see you all here, even though you are undoubtedly more concerned for your inheritance than for me. I’ve been a cold-hearted bastard for a lot of years, even more than you know. I can’t imagine that you’ll ever forgive me for what I’ve done, so I only ask that you judge my deeds in the proper context. That is why I have called you here – to tell you about my life and my sin, and to explain why one of you will die with me.
I grew up in a nothing town in the Arizona desert. Not even a Post Office; just a school, a diner, and the last gas station before the highway to Las Vegas. The only thing I had in the world was my friends. There wasn’t much to do, but we had so much fun that I never worried about the future.
I remember one night, desperate for anything to do besides homework, we had a game of hide-and-seek in the cemetery. On the count of ten, we flew in all directions. I ran to the back of the graveyard, past the tombs of the city fathers, to a place where time had wiped away the names of the dead. Searching for the perfect hiding place, I fell over a broken headstone, tore my leg something awful. Must have left half a gallon of blood in that grave, but they never found me.
When the final school bell rang out, my friends scattered to the wind – college, the army, anything to get out of that little town. But turning eighteen took me by surprise. I found myself working at the gas station, watching cars filled with laughing people headed to places I’d never see.
Months passed by like commercials on TV. The bell rang for the trillionth time, and I trudged out to fill up yet another car. This one was a Corvette, canary yellow, shining like candy wrapped in cellophane. Behind the wheel was a pretty, young thing in a tank top and aviator sunglasses. I scrubbed her windshield and out of habit said “Have fun in Vegas.” She smiled, the sunlight glinting in her glasses. “Actually, Daddy and I just moved to town. I’m headed to work at the diner across the road. By the way, my name is Rosa.” She handed me a few crumpled bills and waggled her fingers goodbye. As I stared at her tail-lights, I realized I hadn’t told her my name.
After that, I had every meal at her table, trying to work up the nerve to introduce myself and ask her out. I ate slowly, hoping to find the words by the time I’d finished dessert. Only took me six months! Finally, she agreed to spend her next lunch break with me. Thank god she said yes. I was getting sick of rhubarb pie. But where to take her? The only place to go in town was the damn diner! We ended up having a picnic in the field by the cemetery. That might sound morbid, but this was the desert. There weren’t that many places with nice grass. She brought some strawberry crepes and I brought a bottle of wine. We exchanged awkward small talk and watched the grass dance in the wind until the wine spread its smile across our faces. She told me about growing up in New Mexico, her pets, her plans for college. I mostly just listened, because the only thing I wanted to say was “I’m lonely.”
We spent the next three months in each other’s arms. Her kindness and her laughter pushed away the dark that had enveloped my heart. This woman could save me. She could be my oasis. One evening, I traded every dollar I had for a ring I hoped would make her mine. I headed to her apartment, too excited, driving too fast. The wind rose, carrying a summer storm. I drove through miles of water until the cemetery appeared, lurking in the dark. I always hated that curve. The world exploded, blinding pain. I had slid, crashed through the fence, and the limb of an oak tree had pierced my chest. Everything was blood and broken headstones. I would never see sweet Rosa’s face again. My joy had turned to ashes. Desperate to free myself from this fate, I cried out to whatever spirits could hear me. “Anything you want! Just save me, and let me share a long life with her.” Silence.
Something touched me on the arm. A voice like a flock of crows.
“A child will pull the wings from a fly and laugh. So much less does your suffering matter to me.”
“My god…” This was worse than dying alone. I had been found by something that was going to watch me die and smile.
I said, “Spirit, don’t I have anything to offer you? Not even my soul?”
“What makes you think such a thing exists?”
Hot, putrid breath assaulted my face. “I roam the earth from east to west, devouring those who hear my voice. I steal the hopeful from their lover’s grasp. Why should you see her again, when my only companion is despair?”
This was agony. I had finally found some meaning, some purpose, and one slip had stolen it from me. I had to sacrificed anything to have it back.
“Take one of my grandchildren for your own.”
“You will live to 99 with your Rosa, but I shall take the grandchild you love the most. I will sign my name in their flesh, and they shall join in my endless wandering.”
The thing’s shrieking laughter still haunts me. “Will you cast them into the darkness? Choose quickly! My hunger grows!” I said yes. God damn me forever, I said yes! My vision began to fade. The twisted liar! I was dying after all! A foul, choking wind, and something like the sound of wings.
I opened my eyes in the hospital. Rosa was at my side, clutching the ring and weeping. I threw back the bedsheets and felt my chest. No wounds, but every hair had been burned from my body. A few months later, she would demand a child. At first I refused, but I couldn’t bare to see her unhappy, couldn’t bare the thought of her leaving. One child lead to two, then three, then four.
I did my best to make sure they never found love. I locked them in their rooms, trapped them in the basement, threatened their boyfriends with a knife. They ran from me, scattered, and had children of their own. I spent years trying to deaden my heart, trying to never feel anything for you girls, but I failed. And now, once more, the light is leaving me. Quickly, search your bodies! You will know the demon has chosen you by the mark of—
Deadliest Kiss
An Anonymous Creepypasta
You love him, in fact, you are obsessed with him. What if I were to tell you that your loved one might be draining the life out of you? Even if that were true, and you did believe me, would you have the strength to leave him? I have encountered this first hand when I was in high school. My best friend was being controlled by a demon known as an Incubus.
An Incubus is a demon born from hell. They spend their entire lives draining the life force out of women and continue with the same woman until her will to live has completely diminished. During their relationship the Incubus bends her will in a hypnotizing way to make her do whatever they want. The Incubus thrives off her will while she is being mentally tortured, and finally, moves on to his next victim.
During my Summer break before 10th grade my parents, and I moved to a different state to live closer to my grandparents. When I started school there, I wasn’t entirely pleased with the people there. I made friends with this girl whose name was Charlene. She was beautiful, she wasn’t a twig but wasn’t obese. She had nice curves, and an amazing personality. I was able to tell her anything and everything because of how much she actually listened. She never held anything against me, and that was a trait I wished everyone possessed.
She was dating a jock at the school, and one day he broke her heart and dumped her. Just three or four days after she started talking about this guy she met. She wasn’t the most innocent person in the world, and told me that after a serious breakdown at the park, a man had walked up to her and offered her comfort. She told me that he was so sincere and she couldn’t resist. She told me how he had the most adorable sexy accent in the world. She couldn’t tell if he was Austrian or German but, she said that the way he spoke possessed her to let him hold her. She had slept with him that night.
I told her to let him go because he was bad news for her, and she was 16 and he was 24. With the morals I grew up with, that was too big of an age difference for someone as young as her. As time went by, she progressively got more and more obsessed with this guy. She could go on and on about how cute his smile was, or how every moment with him sparkled, or how adorable his black hair was. She would talk nonstop about how amazing his cooking was.
All of the sudden one night at a sleep over, I had pointed out these bruises on her neck. She intentionally tried to cover them up with her hair, and told me she bumped into something. I finally got her to confess that it was from that man. “Danny did it, but everything is alright now. He just had a breakdown,” she had told me, which was followed by some sob story of the guy’s past. She told me how his father had just died, and how his father used to sexually abuse him but, how he was the only person Danny could talk to.
Things escalated from there. Their relationship had become this evil circle of torture for her. It tore her to pieces. She got lost in this dark ballad forever dancing to his beat. Something bad would happen to him, and she would grow immensely depressed, he would get better, and then she would fall even more in love with him. She also started hearing voices, and practically went insane. He had turned her religion to Satanism and started her on hallucinogenic drugs.
After months of this going on and on; I got in my car, and I finally was able to confront this guy. He worked as a chef at some high end restaurant, and I waited until he got off work before I approached him. As he walked to his car and pulled out a cigarette, I started harassing him about my best friend. I ranted on and on about her to him, and how much I hated him even though I never knew him. I realized after about seven minutes of telling him how much I hated him, he never even spoke.
He just listened and smiled. “It will all be over soon,” he told me in a thick German accent. The way he smiled made his features even more sinister. He had some facial hair, long curly black hair, and the scariest part about him was his vivid light blue eyes. It seemed like they glowed in the shadows. Before he left he told me, “And you won’t be able to do anything about it.”
I couldn’t sleep that night. It still haunts me to this day, it was just the feeling he gave me, it felt like he would be the thing staring behind you in the reflection of the mirror. When I did fall asleep that night, I had horrible nightmares about waking up in a desolate hallway, and at the end of the hallway there was a door partially opened. I crawled to open it, and my friend is bloody and broken in the bathtub. Her rib cage was ripped apart and her heart was gone. There were numbers written on the wall: 62019. They were still being written in blood, even though nobody was writing them. When the door squeaked from me opening it, the numbers stopped appearing. I could feel something crawling its way toward me, but I saw nothing.
I woke up in a sweat to a man standing beyond my bed. He crawled towards me and kissed me on my lips. After that, he opened his mouth, and this screeching bellowed in my ears. I was paralyzed, and I couldn’t move. That shadow took my will that night and raped me.
The next morning, I woke up to 12 missed phone calls all from Charlene. Charlene committed suicide that evening, after hearing the news that Danny had shot himself in the face.
I wish I could have acted sooner. I would’ve been able to save her.
The Chains
An Anonymous 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.
