Good evening, it’s Spooky Boo Rhodes coming to you from the lighthouse in Sandcastle, California. Tonight I have or you some very spooky stories from the creepypasta library about demons. For now, listen to these great stories then check out my website at www.scarystorytime.com where you can find links to my other podcasts and to my books on amazon and Etsy.
To find transcripts for these stories, visit my website www.creepypastascarystories.com.
Now let’s begin
An Old Evil
by Mymuffins
Okay, I’ll admit it. I screwed up. Looking at that stupid book was the worst thing I’ve ever done. Wherever I look now, all I see is its bone mask. Why did I look at that damn book?!
I suppose I’ll have to start from the beginning. It was a Saturday, 9 AM. I had just gotten up and drawn the blinds to let some light into my apartment when my phone rang. It was my step-sister, Phoebe.
She asked me to go shopping with her. Whenever we go shopping, all we do is look at shoes and clothes, but she means well, so I accepted. That was one of the biggest mistakes of my life.
By noon, we were in the mall searching for the nearest shoe store. I wanted to get some cash out of a nearby ATM. She told me to meet her at a cafe in half an hour, and I agreed. It took me about a minute to get to an ATM. While I withdrew some cash, a bookstore caught my eye. I remembered that Phoebe loved books and decided to get a quick gift for her.
Now, I’ve been in psych wards and mental hospitals where nurses have committed suicide, and thought nothing of it, but this store was just strange. The lightbulbs didn’t produce nearly enough light and flickered constantly. There were no employees that I could see. As I looked around the store, a book drew my attention. A hardcover book stood on a small pedestal in the center of the room, and for some reason I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. I was completely hypnotized by it.
My instincts told me to leave, but I just couldn’t. It was like that book had become the absolute climax of my life, and I just couldn’t turn away. As I got closer, I could make out the shape of a deep maroon handprint on the cover. I towered over the book, filled with a sense of anticipation. I lay my hand on the cover and opened it. The title made my hands tremble.
Phrike. I remembered that story. Phoebe told me about it. Phrike was the Greek goddess of horror. But that was in mythology, and nothing like that existed in real life, right? I turned a page and saw the words “discedere nunc.” I was almost sure it was Latin, but I couldn’t understand it, so I kept flipping pages until I saw another handprint, similar to the one on the cover. I took no notice, only wanting the words. I couldn’t understand any of it. It was all in Latin. I suddenly had an urge to read this aloud.
I remember reading, “Magnus Phrike, sacrificium meum est hic qui haec legerit.”
I quickly closed the book. I remember staring at the handprint and wondering for a second, Is that blood? It couldn’t be. I don’t know why I did this, but I placed my hand on the pattern. As I smoothed my hand over cold, dusty leather, I felt my hand burning for a split-second. I jolted my hand back, only to see blood running down my palm and onto my plaid shirt. I turned and ran out of the store, low whispers in my ears, “Morte morieris, morte morieris.”
I ran back to the cafe, my heart pounding with every step. I saw Phoebe with an angry expression on her face, pointing to her watch. I sat down, panting rapidly.
“Where have you been?”
Gathering my thoughts, I said the thing that first popped into my mind. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?” she asked “You know what, forget it. Something weird just happened.”
She went on to tell me that she had been called on her phone by someone that she didn’t know, saying that she had been cursed. I told her that it was probably one of the schizos I worked with in the past, although I knew better. She agreed. We left within the hour, unbeknownst that the next few weeks would determine my fate.
Two weeks later, strange things started to happen. Every now and then, I would hear the words “Morte morieris.” I looked them up on the internet to see what they meant. Only one thing came up: You’re dead. No, this didn’t mean anything. I was not going to die. This was stupid, I must be imagining things. I kept telling myself this, only postponing the inevitable.
The same week, I kept seeing things out of the corner of my eye, but it disappeared if I tried to get a better look. Whenever I blinked, I saw a mask. It looked malevolent, and somewhat like the skull of a deer. I went to psychiatrists. They didn’t help. I truly thought I was going mad.
These things eventually subsided until a week later. I had terrible nightmares of a creature wearing a bone mask, chasing me in dark forests. I hid behind tree trunks and stones, but it found me every time. All the time repeating a wailing noise, screeching the name “Phrike, Phrike, Phrike,” each word getting more violent as it closed in on me. I always awoke screaming with terror, just after it disemboweled me. I went back to psychiatrists, but no one helped me, not even my sister.
I searched online again. Phrike was the goddess of fear, horror, yes, yes, blah blah blah. I kept searching until I came across a page.
The page said that Circe, a Greek witch, freed the living entity of Phrike from the pits of the underworld to gain untold power, thus allowing her to rule as she pleased. But something went wrong. Circe’s evil heart turned Phrike into a demon, just as Circe wanted, she would then rob Phrike of her power. But Circe’s bone mask, the source of her power, fell off during a ritual, making her magic obsolete.
Phrike stole Circe’s mask and escaped into a nearby forest. Phrike would have to kill anything in the forest to survive. One day, a Roman scholar wandered into the forest and was mortally wounded by Phrike, who offered her sacrifices in exchange for his life. Phrike accepted. The scholar returned to Rome and made a book, writing inside that whoever reads the words would be sacrificed.
No! NO! That didn’t happen! I was very familiar with all of Circe’s mythological stories and that never happened! And I was not going to die! This was just a chain post sent by some stupid loser with no life.
This is what I tell myself, for I will sleep soon. But this time I’m not sure if I will awaken. Hopefully Phrike has some mercy, at least. This was all just because of curiosity. Well, goodnight.
Owl Eyes
by Killertoast248
Man, this is just what I needed, a week away from everything. Well, let me introduce myself. My name is Marcus, I’m 27 years old, I have a wife, two kids, and another on the way. Ever since I was a child I’ve wanted to be a writer. I guess I’m good at it, I’ve had two books published, but that’s beside the point. I recently suffered from writers block.
No matter what I did, I couldn’t get back in the rhythm. I decided to see a therapist about it, and he told me I needed to get away from the stress of daily life. I, of course, had no objection to that, considering I hadn’t taken a vacation in several years. I confronted my wife about it, and invited her to tag along. The kids could stay at her parents home, it would be a romantic weekend for the two of us, but, to my surprise, she declined and said she’d rather stay with the kids, but encouraged me to go alone.
I was disappointed, but I didn’t argue. I packed my suitcase, kissed my wife and children, then headed out. There was a beautiful cabin beside a river that my therapist told me about. It was a long drive on a curvy, dirt road, but well worth it. When I arrived at the cabin, I was astonished by the massive trees secluding me from the rest of the world.
The cabin, as I stated before, was beautiful. I opened the door, but lost my breathe. The air was stale, cobwebs lined the corners of the ceiling, and I’m pretty sure I saw a mouse run across the floor. No one had lived here in a very long time. Anyway, I went to the bedroom and unpacked.
It was starting to get dark, so I decided to go to bed and further inspect the area in the morning. As I undressed, I heard a sound coming from outside, it sounded like someone rustling through a patch of dead leaves. I opened the window to see if anyone was outside. Nothing. I was about to close it, but I noticed a peculiar sight. An owl sitting on a branch, looking at me. It was a bright white color with pitch black eyes, and it was staring right at me. I slammed the window shut, the noise made the owl fly away. I laid down in the bed and fell asleep.
It was seven a.m. when I awoke the next morning. The sun was piercing through the windows, creating beautiful gleams of light in the dark cabin as I yawned and sat up. A beautiful day. I wondered what I should do, maybe I should try and work on my book, no, I’ll go for a swim in the river.
A brilliant idea! I put on my bathing suit and went outside, it was surprisingly chilly for the middle of summer, though. When I reached the river, I stuck one foot in it, but yanked it out. The water was ice cold; much too cold to swim in. On my way back to the cabin, I saw the owl from last night. Weird, I thought they only came out at night. It was watching me as I walked back. “Get out of here!” I yelled as I threw up my arms.
The owl didn’t budge, I shivered a little and went inside. What a strange encounter. I went to get my camera to take a picture of the owl, but when I returned, it was nowhere to be found. I took the rest of the day to take pictures of my surroundings. My wife was a photographer, so I thought she’d like the photos. I got some pretty good ones, too.
One of a bright red centipede crawling across a root, even a fox chasing a rabbit, I’m really proud of that one. Night came, so I retreated to the cabin to sleep. When I went into the bedroom, I felt something, like someone was staring at me. I looked around the entire room, the whole cabin! It was really bothering me. I couldn’t find anything, so I decided too shake it off. I went back too the bedroom and fell asleep.
I didn’t normally have dreams, but that night I did. There were too black eyes staring at me from the foot of the bed. I tried to kick, but I couldn’t move… Something had me pinned down. The eyes began too move closer. “NO! GO AWAY!” I pleaded. The eyes were close now, reveling an entire face. Two black eyes, with no mouth, or any other facial features, just gray skin, and those damn eyes. I woke up and fell out of the bed. I felt the stare on me.
I looked outside and saw the owl. “Get the fuck out of here!” I screamed as I opened the window and threw a shoe at it. The shoe missed and the owl just sat on the tree branch, gazing at me through the window. This was way too creepy. I got my stuff together and went to my car. The owl had moved now. It was on top of the cabin looking down at me as I was opening my car door. I pulled out my camera and took a picture of it. It screamed loudly, making me cover my ears, then flew away into the woods.
By the next morning, I was home. My kids greeted me with hugs and my wife kissed me. “Why are you back so early?” She asked. I smiled, “Eh, that wasn’t really the place for me.” I gave her the camera and told her about the pictures I’d taken, especially about the one of the owl. She said she’d get them developed for me. I got to rest easy that night, and in the morning, my wife handed me the pictures.
I looked at them one by one. “Not bad, right?” She said as she displayed a pair of earrings to me. “Yeah, they’re pretty good, hun.” “Did you see the one of the owl?” “No, I only saw a few.” I flipped to the picture to show her, but it was only a picture of the corner of the cabin’s roof. The owl was gone, though I knew I got him in that one. My wife hugged me from behind. “I’m going to work, see you at six.” She shut the front door, leaving me to wonder about that fucking owl. I stood to go in the living room when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw two black eyes staring at me from the window in the kitchen.
The Opportunity
by Quipster Puck
Get away from him!
He is not yours to take! Not yet, anyways!
Get out of here before I report you for interfering.
Oh, hello. I see you’re awake. Today, sir, is your lucky day. Well, not really, it is the worst day of your life to be completely honest but thankfully you have me to help fix everything for you. I hate to break it to you but you, sir, are well… dead.
Hahaha. No, this isn’t some sick joke, your friend Stephen didn’t put me up to this. No, sir. You are 8 feet in the ground rotting away as we speak. Not only are you dead but you, sir, are in hell. That is where I come in. Your punishment has been to relive the worst day of your life for all eternity. Or, until you do things right. Yes, you heard me, you can change things by doing what is needed of you to earn entrance into heaven.
Haha, I know you always thought hell was fire and brimstone. Demons with pitchforks laughing as they poke you in the rear and fillet your flesh over a lake of fire. Sorry to disappoint you, but hell isn’t so exciting. Each person has their own personal hell. They are cursed to relive worst day of their life over and over.
Hell, however has begun to overfill. Yes, you mortals seem to become more lost and wicked as time goes on. Thus, your opportunity. If you do your righteous work during this day you will be allowed into…purgatory. Yes, I said purgatory not heaven, sadly only truly righteous souls are allowed into heaven. I can assure you, though, purgatory is a hell of a lot better than hell. Don’t mind the pun.
So let’s get down to business. You have been here for 10 years now and each day you have allowed yourself to be tricked and tempted by a demon. Lucky for you today I am here to guide you. Do what I say and everything will work out, I guarantee it.
Now get out of bed. We have a lot to do today and not much time. As much as it pains me to tell you, I think you should go to Dillan’s room. Hey, not so fast. You don’t want to just bust in. I’m sorry, sir, I tried to warn you.
Last night while you were asleep a man entered your house for a thrill. Unfortunately, he walked into this room where your wife was checking on your infant son while you were passed out in bed from a night of drinking with your friends. If it makes you feel any better your name was the last thing that escaped her lips. She died thinking about you, calling your name for help. Now that I think of it, I’m sorry, I don’t know how that was supposed to help. I just thought, well never mind what I thought, we have a lot to do.
Now go to your room and get dressed. Wear something that you can move freely in to accomplish what you need; you will need to be able to run and maneuver. Now go to the closest and take the box from the top shelf. You know the old cigar box that you keep your revolver in. Be careful. Remember you keep it loaded. We wouldn’t want you killing yourself again.
No, today things will be different. This man that entered your house is still here. Yes, you heard me, he is in the house right now! His name is Fred Tarrent and he is far more deserving of hell than you ever were. This man gets his kicks by breaking into houses and slicing the throats of young mothers in their 30s before smothering their children.
Your wife, believe it or not, was one of the lucky ones. Most he tortures mentally and physically before he silences them with his knife. Your wife was spared of this due to his other tendency.
If the husband is home he waits for them in the house to find the bodies. He watches their reaction as they cry over their dead bodies. Yes, that’s right he saw you when you found them. He was hiding in the closet grinning ear to ear as he watched the tears well up in your eyes. He will be coming into the room in a matter of minutes to finish up with you.
You need to put an end to this scum. You need to save all of his future victims from his torment. Aim at the door. Yes, watch. It’s beginning to open.
You did good, sir.
I’m so sorry, I forgot to mention he uses a gun to finish the husbands but you got him too. You saved so many lives. You will never know the service that you have provided the world.
What’s that?
Are you going to purgatory now?
Will this end?
Well frankly, sir, no.
Yeah, you heard me. I said no. I know you did everything I asked of you. That’s just it. The guy that left as you were waking up. He was an angel here to try to save your pitiful soul. Luckily, I was able to drive him off. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be able to have all this fun again tomorrow.
Where did you go wrong you ask?
What did you do to deserve hell? You must be joking.
Yes, you didn’t kill yourself…this time…
I have four words for you. Thou Shalt Not Kill.
Killing, sir, is a mortal sin and you, sir, became no better than the scum you just killed the moment you pulled the trigger.
Bye. I’ll see you tomorrow.
Thank you for listening. If you enjoyed these stories head on over the my website at www.creepypastascarystories.com and make a comment. You can also follow me anywhere on social media at spoookyboorhodes.
I’d like to thank the listeners and the Patreon members including madjoe, Bobbi Elliott, DrJoeBlob, PA Nightmares, Ivy Iverson, John Newby, and Lana. If you would like to support the program commercial free please visit my Patreon page at www.spookyboo.club.
That’s all for tonight. I’ll see you in your nightmares.
