Good evening, it’s Spooky Boo Rhodes from Sandcastle, California bringing you the spooky tales of weird cryptids. You’ll enjoy these creepy tales from little parasite bugs to large, violent cryptids.
Come and read my stories from my Sandcastle Horror podcast. You can find the first paperback with most of the stories up until 2022 in paperback or Amazon Kindle by purchasing a copy on Amazon. You can also purchase a signed paperback on my Etsy page. Just visit www.scarystorytime.com/sandcastle to grab the links to the books and the podcast.
Now let’s begin…
My Dog Has Worms
by HoodQuest
If there is one thing I love, it’s animals. They are as loyal as you make them. They’re entertaining and can be good company if you’re lonely. With me being a single man in my early 20s, I felt it was only good to get a dog. I owned a German Shepard. I’d had him since he was just a puppy. He was very mischievous and got himself into trouble from time to time. With him being such a troublemaker, I named him Rebel. It may sound a little dumb, but that name really fit him.
Rebel and I had so much fun together. I would take him on walks, car rides, and even trips to the store. It didn’t take long for Rebel to grow attached to me, and I had grown quite attached to him. Now, I’m going to skip forward to what happened about two weeks ago.
I had noticed that Rebel’s behavior… changed. He’d started acting differently. He’d become aggressive. Rebel would go nuts at anything and anyone. Once, the mailman came to deliver a package and Rebel nearly put a hole in the door trying to get to him. That door was solid oak that was four inches thick.
Rebel also refused to eat certain foods now. When I first got him, he would eat anything I gave him. Now, that just wasn’t the case. Now, I’m going to skip to when things really took a turn for the worst. This happened just a few days ago.
Rebel’s nasty behavior continued. Actually, his behavior seemed to intensify. Rebel was becoming violent at literally everything. One time, I was just watching TV. He suddenly attacked it as if he were trying to get the people inside. It was actually incredible. He managed to pierce his teeth through it. I could see the teeth marks through the screen. On small occasions, Rebel would even get violent with me. At that point, I knew it was time to take him to the vet.
I didn’t even trust him enough to put him in the car with me. He fought as I tried to put him in the trunk. After a good 15 minutes of struggling, I finally got him in there. On the whole way to the vet, I could hear him barking and thrashing around. He was actually making the whole car shake. I knew something was wrong. His barks sounded different. They didn’t sound like the barks of a dog. Instead, they sounded like the roars of a monster.
When I made to the vet, I asked to get assistance from a few vets to help me get him out of the trunk. I was too afraid to open it by myself. This time, he was even more violent and strong. He bit one of the vets on the hand. Still, it took all three of us to use our full strength to subdue him. We got him inside, strapped him down, and waited for the doctor to see what the problem was.
I was becoming disturbed. It almost looked like Rebel’s physical appearance was deteriorating. His fur was falling off in random places. His teeth had become razor sharp, compared to an average dog’s. His eyes were no longer those of my beloved pet. Instead, his eyes were blood red and full of violent anger. The doctor requested I step in the waiting room as he examined.
Everyone in the waiting room, including myself, were shaken by the constant howls of Rebel. His howls and barks sounded more like a bear’s or an alligator’s. The doctor rushed in the waiting room and requested I urgently come to the back. When I went back to the room, I could no longer recognize Rebel. He looked nothing like my pet…or even a dog. He looked like some mangy beast.
I nearly vomited when I saw… that under his skin… there looked like the outline of worms crawling inside him. Rebel looked up at me and… smiled. This wasn’t some innocent, doggy smile. This was an evil smile. His smile gave off a feeling of threatening danger. If that wasn’t bad enough, Rebel then did something that will forever live in my mind.
“Y-Y-You…”
All of our jaws dropped. We all could have sworn that Rebel… said something. Before we could prepare ourselves, Rebel let out an ear-piercing scream, not a bark, but a scream. He sounded like a human if they were to scream. I covered my ears as hard as I could. The sound was unbearable. One of the vets retreated from the room as his blood began to pour out of his ears.
Rebel began to vomit blood. Within it, you could see small worm-like insects crawling around. The doctor didn’t know what was going on, and he didn’t care anymore. He suggested that we have Rebel… put to sleep… permanently. I didn’t know what to think. Rebel was my best friend. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a lot of time to think about it. Rebel was starting to tear away at the leather straps. I shook my head in agreement. It was better than watching my friend suffer.
Within the hour, Rebel passed away. I sat in the waiting room grieving the lose of my dear friend. The doctor came in with a jar of… those things… those worms or whatever they were. He said he was going to have them sent to a lab to be examined. Honestly, I didn’t care what he did with them. I just wanted those things away from me.
Now, that was the story of Rebel. Do you know what’s strange? The doctor called me just a few hours ago. Do you remember those worms? Apparently, no one knows what they are. They have never been documented. They are actually a mystery to mankind, I guess. I don’t know how or when Rebel got exposed to those things. If any of you have a pet you truly care about, get them checked on immediately. I will advise that you get yourself checked too. Lately, it feels like there’s something crawling in my arm, and I’ve been feeling angry… very angry.
Claws on Tile
by Stex85
I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised when my wife asked me for a divorce. The stress of juggling work, our marriage and looking after our young daughter Emily had taken its toll on the both of us. We had barely spoken to each other in months. So when the day she told me that she wanted out came, I’m not ashamed to say a part of me was relieved. My relief was short lived however. She presented me with a bag of clothes and told me to find somewhere else to live. I won’t lie, I was angry. I mean, SHE was the one who was quitting the marriage, why should I have to leave? I may have said some things that I’m glad our daughter wasn’t around to hear.
After two months of staying in cheap hotels I finally found a place. It was stupidly cheap, I had my doubts but my ex refused to let Emily come and see me before I’d found myself some permanent place to stay. I missed her so much. I’d often heard how having a child changed you but I never truly believed it till she was born. She was always perfect to me, with her golden hair and little snub nose. She always had me wrapped around her little finger. Even when she’d been naughty, all she had to do was smile at me and I couldn’t bring myself to stay angry at her. When I opened the door to my new flat all I was thinking about was how she would be allowed a visit in a few short days.
God, that place was a shit hole. The walls were stained, the appliances were gross. I spent my entire first day just trying to get all my stuff moved in. When I finally got the chance to go to sleep I spent half the night being kept awake by music from a car outside. I had to bury my head under a pillow to get even a semblance of peace. When I woke up in the morning I was covered in insect bites from the tips of my fingers to my elbows. I was just glad I’d worn a T-shirt. It seems even the local wildlife was out for my blood. At least it wasn’t just my ex-wife. The spots where they had pierced the skin to sate themselves on my lifeblood itched terribly. I went to the bathroom hoping that a wash would ease my pain. I opened the bathroom cupboard to get the soap when I saw a tube of cream. It must have been left by the previous tenant. The label had been mostly rubbed off but when I unscrewed the cap it smelled antiseptic. I really didn’t want to wait for the chemist to open, the itching was too intense. I squeezed out a generous amount of cream and applied it liberally over my hands and arms. It stung like hell, but that at least meant it was working. It certainly soothed the itching at any rate.
The rest of my day was taken up by cleaning. I pulled on the rubber gloves and got to scrubbing. I didn’t stop until the place was spotless. If Emily was going to come over I wanted it to feel like a home. Somewhere we could be together instead of some depressing pit where her father now lives.
I didn’t stop until late into the evening. When I finally peeled off the gloves I noticed that the bites on my hand had somehow got bigger. What were once red pinpricks were now almost holes, deep and red. What I found especially puzzling was how there were no scabs or blood. Just a crimson redness. I assumed it was because I’d worn the gloves all day. I cursed myself for being so foolish and applied some more cream. I ate and decided to go to bed after watching some TV. Thankfully there was less noise to disturb me. I remember thinking how things might just work out after all.
I awoke the next morning to the phone ringing. I blearily answered and heard my ex-wife’s voice on the other end of the line. She irritably informed me that if I was still going to have Emily over to mine that afternoon, she’d need to see photos of my flat. Otherwise she would not allow Emily to see me there. As if I wouldn’t have tried to make it perfect! I took some photos with my phone and sent them over and she begrudgingly agreed that it was acceptable. Whilst I was taking the pictures I noticed the wounds on my hand had gotten worse. Now each hole was rimmed with a thick, white crust that was hard to the touch. I didn’t want to scare Emily so I applied some more ointment and wrapped them in bandages. I looked at my watch. It was eleven am. Emily was due at three. That gave me time to put the finishing touches to the place and still have some time to relax. As I fussed around I could hear a repetitive tapping noise like claws on tile. I Immediately checked the kitchen and bathroom. The last thing I needed was rats. Not with Emily here. Thankfully I couldn’t find anything.
As the afternoon progressed it happened again and again. Every time I jumped up to check, there was nothing to be seen. I thought I was going insane! Still, it wasn’t enough to dampen my excitement. It wasn’t long before I heard the buzzer go off, signalling Emily’s arrival. I rushed down the stairs to the front door and there she was. My heart swelled at the sight of her. Even the sight of her mother glowering just behind her wasn’t enough to stop the sense of elation I felt. My daughter was finally here. My mind raced with all the fun activities I had planned for us as I bent down to take her up in a huge hug. As I picked her up I heard another tapping sound. This time louder and more intense than it had ever been before. I held her tight to my chest. Suddenly she started to wail. I felt a wetness on my arms and saw the look of fear on my ex-wife’s face. I tried to let her go but something was preventing me from moving my arms. Her screams increased in pitch as I heard the tapping noise increase till it was almost a buzz. My ex-wife grabbed my wrists and tried to prise Emily out of my grasp, only to cry out herself and pull her hands back. I saw that, where there were once fingers, there were now only bloody stumps. Emily finally managed to wiggle free and as she fell to the ground I saw her back was a tangled mess of meat. Bits of bone were visible in the bloody mess. I stared at my hands. The bandages had come off. The wounds underneath were no longer wounds, they were mouths. Each with its own set of razor sharp teeth, chattering away with lethal intent. I began to scream and as I did, a hundred mouths screamed with me.
Olum
by Steelsammy
In December of 1978, two American businessmen were taken captive by the Iranian government on the grounds of bribery. These men were employed by Ross Perot, president of Electronic Data Systems, who would later run for president. However, the American government gave him no help in freeing his employees. Instead, he personally recruited a group of his executives and sent them into Iran with a retired US army officer to aid them in freeing his captured employees. The attempt at jailbreak fails, and the group eventually tracks down the captives and escapes with them to Turkey.
At least, that was what the people believe, as that was the story told. This wasn’t quite what happened. Ross Perot didn’t send a group of executives to free his men; he sent a group of executives to hire my organization. At the time I worked for Saracen International, a private military corporation based in South Africa. Perot’s executives paid a hefty sum of money for my group to enter Iran and retrieve his precious employees. 21 men were dispatched from South Africa to Tehran for this mission. Tehran was in the middle of widespread riots, due to the verging Iranian Revolution. In short terms, shit was blowing up everywhere.
I was serving as a dispatcher and technician. A quick visit to the prison that they were reported to be at proved they were not there- it was in shambles. A little research confirmed that the Iranians had moved the prisoners into the mountains outside Tehran, and were likely to be executed later. News articles revealed the location of the mountain, and the cave network they would be inside. That night, All but 3 of the operatives in the area were sent to attack that mountain and retrieve the 2 Americans. The rest of the prisoners and guards were expendable.
The attack went to the letter, aside from the fact that there was no resistance. The caves were defended, but gunfire and screaming could be heard from the inside and it sounded like we may be too late. The road leading to the cave network was blocked by a security checkpoint, and our men quickly killed the worthless guards and proceeded on their way. But once they entered the caves, it was clear that this was not anything they’d encountered.
Brutalized corpses lined the walls of the cave. They had all died from a variety of injuries, and none by gunshot. Some heads had been split in half, their brain and blood leaking from their skull. Some had no head, and their torsos were covered in blood. Some had their leg broken backwards so that they kicked themselves in the stomach. One in particular seemed to have had his spine ripped from his body, and was slouching on the cave Discarded Ak-47s dotted the cave, but some gunfire continued deeper in. The paramilitary continued inside, and the corpses continued. A few men came running out to them, and they were shot down. The gunfire ceased as the men reached the epicenter of the cave.
It appeared to be a home of some sort. It had a bed, crude appliances, and all sorts of other fixtures. Ornamental weapons hung on the walls and in the center of the chamber, stood a man, illuminated by gas lamps around the room, and the soldier’s flashlights. He was no shorter than 6 feet, an impressive height for this area of the world. His back was to the entrance. His fingers were distorted into impossible figures, and the sight of them alone made the men cringe. But this man had more worries than his fingers- His arms were charred a red and black, and his spine was visible through his brown and black skin. I don’t mean the outline; I mean the spine itself was sticking out from his back. It was a washed white.
The man screamed. This was an unforgettable, bone chilling scream that sounded like the scream of a young girl. One soldier pointed his rifle and fired at him, but the man whirled around and the bullet stopped in midair, and fell to the ground. The front of the man was more terrifying than the back. His torso was covered in scars, but it seemed that he had branded a phrase or name into his chest, on the rib cage. It read, “Olum”. The man had a face, but barely. His skin was dark brown, but parts of his head were missing flesh, revealing the moon white skull. But then, the men heard a voice inside their own minds. It spoke in a Turkish accent, and said “Run”. Olum’s mouth never moved. In fact, he had very little in the way of a mouth- no lips, jested flesh and rotted teeth. His eyes were a shining blue. No pupils, just blue. A scimitar then flew off its mount and cut off one of the soldier’s heads before sticking into the cave wall.
Some men opened fire; some ran out of the cave. Of the reported dozen that stood transfixed by Olum, 2 survived. His eyes seemed to grow in intensity, and the heads of two soldiers burst in a red mist of blood. More weapons came off the walls: Scimitars and Katanas and Kusarigamas. Olum created an array of weapons before him. The men were pierced by another voice within their minds. “You didn’t listen”. With that, the men sank to the floor, and screamed. They held their heads and wailed a final wail, as their heads burst and their lungs collapsed. Olum stopped their torment when two remained. They turned and ran from the caves.
As it turned out, Perot’s men had escaped that prison. They were on the road down from the caves when the remaining soldiers found them. Within a week they were returned to America, and Perot’s executives were “heroes”. They even got a book and TV deal. The paramilitary, including myself, returned to South Africa. Most of us quit after what happened. I was outside the cave in a Jeep, and heard the events inside the cave on the 2 way radio and read the debriefings. I never went in further than the entrance, and I saw the bodies. The men that did see Olum, most went insane afterward, and had nightmares of his existence. I’ve since lost contact with them.
What of his existence? Olum was most certainly a man at some point. It seemed that the prisoners disturbed his home, and he slaughtered them.”Olum” means “Death” in Turkish. How did he become what he was? Was he always telepathic? And for other matters- Olum lived in the mountains in Southwest Asia. There are a lot of mountains in the region. With both terrorists and Western soldiers ascending these mountains to battle, what if they uncover more Olums? What if there is an entire army of them out there, dotted around the hills and peaks of the region? It’s been 30 years since Olum was seen. What if he isn’t in Tehran at all? What if he’s moved on? Traditional garb for that area could easily cover his afflictions, with a robe and a scarf he’d be completely inconspicuous. Where could he be hiding now?
***
