These stories were sent to me anonymously over email and are allegedly true.
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One summer I went camping with my troop and it was the last time that I had camped. I didn’t stop camping because of what happened, I just grew out of it but that doesn’t mean that it didn’t scare the crap out of me.
It was late one night and our chaperone fell asleep early. He normally didn’t do this, but we think that he was coming down with something during the trip. We let him fall asleep then we all huddled by the fire and told scary camping stories while we roasted marshmallows. At about 10 PM we all went to our tents to sleep. Of course, we didn’t sleep. We did the Morse code we learned that day through our tents to talk to each other. It was pretty funny since we didn’t know what we were really saying and guessed most of it.
At about an hour later we all started to fall asleep tent by tent. I was almost there, kind of half dreaming and half away when I heard footsteps outside my tent. I thought they were the footsteps of our counselor, but they were weird. It was almost as if one foot was a lazy foot and would drag behind the other one. I unzipped my tent and peered out. There was a man who looked like an old hunter with a plaid shirt and a huge knife just walking around the camp. He was getting into all of the boxes and ice chests, pretty much ignoring the tents. Then he started snooping around the actual tents. First he went to Robby’s tent. He unzipped it and peered in then closed it. He did this to each tent until he got to mine. I fell back and pulled the sleeping bag over my head.
“I know you’re awake.” he grumbled.
I was shivering, ready to pee my pajama pants. He hadn’t hurt the others so I’m sure that he wouldn’t hurt me. Then I thought about what would happen if he knew I saw his face? A million scenes ran through my mind, none of them good.
“I have an old hog to cut up,” I watched the tip of his knife run down the side of my tent. “You can come watch if you want. They bleed a lot. I think you would like it.”
Tears welling in my eyes, I pulled the sleeping bag further over my head.
“I bet you bleed a lot too.” he laughed.
Then I heard our boxes getting kicked over or thrown. He was pouring our drinks out when the camp chaperone came out of his tent, probably because of all the noise.
“Hey! What’s going on?” he shouted at the guy and I could hear him trying to dial the numbers on his cell phone while forgetting we didn’t have service where we were. It must have scared the creep away because I could hear the bushes rustling near by as he hobbled off.
The next morning we packed everything up and went to the park ranger’s station to report the incident and ultimately the police. I had a slice in my new tent that I wasn’t too happy about. There were no reports of anyone living in the area that resembled the old man except about 20 years back some old guy fell off one of the cliffs over the river and was thought to have drowned. He had a limp from his leg not completely working right where it was bit by a dog from a campsite he was raiding. Everyone thought he was dead, but obviously he isn’t.
The End
I was a Boy Scout growing up and had a lot of fun with some life long friends. There is one camping incident that really stuck in my head. The chosen spot was one we all had to hike to. We had out backpacks and gear and made it up the trail. It was about 85 degrees outside and it felt like 120 carrying the backpacks and our other supplies. There were cabins at the top of the hill and a nice little campground. Our Scout leader wanted us to experience the hiking so he had parked his car up at the campsite for any emergencies before he hiked up the hill with us.
Once we got there, we unpacked everything and were really relieved that we had little cabins to stay in as it was kind of cold at night in the mountains. We setup camp and by the time we were done, it was dinner time. We cooked hotdogs over the fire and while we ate we went over a few details about camping, poison oak, and a little bit of history of our troop. Then we started to tell urban legend stories. One kid asked if we had heard about Bigfoot. Of course all of us had so we laughed about it. No one really believed it. He was ridiculed for the rest of the night until we all went to bed.
While we were all sleeping in our cabins that night, something got into all of our supplies. Whatever it was did it real quiet like because none of us woke up during the night. Our food was scattered everywhere. Our counselor said it was probably a skunk and we were lucky that we didn’t see it or we would spend the rest of the trip smelling. We helped him salvage what was left and locked it in his car. Luckily for us, he already had brought extra knowing something like this would happen so we were still well fed and ready for the next few nights.
The next night while we were sleeping I awoke to this really weird grunting noise. Thinking that it might be a skunk, I didn’t look at first but then I heard heavy, padded footsteps. Curious, I peered through the cabin window and suddenly couldn’t breathe as I saw it. It was this ape like thing. About 9 feet tall and really super hairy. It had a face that looked more human than ape though. I slid to the floor pulling my knees to my chest. I wasn’t going to let this thing know I was awake.
The next morning the campsite looked normal except when the counselor went to his truck we could hear all kinds of swearing. We ran over and saw what had happened. There were big claw marks in the side of the door where something tried to pry the door open.
“I saw a creature last night. It was real hairy and look like a man. Maybe he did it?”
The counselor looked over at me, slightly annoyed. “What probably did this was a bear. What you saw was probably in a dream from all of those Bigfoot stories you guys were telling.”
I was insulted and upset. I wasn’t one to argue with people who were older than I so I just held it inside. The next night though, something weird had happened. When I woke up my cabin door was ajar and someone had left a trail of food to my cabin. There was more cursing and yelling by our counselor as he looked at his now opened door on the other side of the car. Someone had pried it open somehow.
He looked directly at me then at the trail of food. “Get hungry last night?”
“Um no. It wasn’t me. I just woke up.”
He started to run at me and I ran back into my cabin and shut the door. It was then when I saw the footprints on the dusty floor. They were big prints, much too big for a human, but in human form. I moved away from the door and let the counselor in. He stopped yelling when he saw the print.
“Did you just draw that in the dust? Don’t lie now.”
“No,” I stammered.
He looked around the cabin and found some long hair that resembled dog hair stuck in one of the drawers. “Do you know what this is?”
“No.”
“OK You’re off the hook. Something is going after our food.”
The next night we put the food in the big cabin and we all slept in there. In the middle of the night there was a lot of banging in the cabins and in the car outside. Something tried to open the big cabin’s door several times then stopped. Whatever or whoever it was was smart enough to know how to turn a door handle. When we went out in the morning there were huge footprints coming to and leaving from the cabin.
I never went camping again.
This story is by Spooky Boo
I made a mistake. A BIG mistake! Over a month ago I was surfing through the online classifieds and I came across this free box of stuff that was posted to Craigslist. I sell a lot of things that I get for free from Craigslist on eBay and Amazon. I know it seems like a scam, but it isn’t. If people are willing to just give things away, then why not sell them?
The box had a lot of junk that I gave away on FreeCycle, I do that so I can build my customer list. I know, that sounds scammy as well, but these people will take junk off my hands in minutes or buy incredible items when offered. So I keep their emails. Is that a crime? I don’t SPAM them. I send a message asking if they would like to be notified. OK? Don’t judge me.
While giving away the items and clearing out the box, I came across this thing called a fidget spinner. At first I wasn’t sure what it was, but then when I realized that it could spin between my middle finger and thumb at an even pace, I was fascinated. My first thought was to sell it, but every time I went to list the spinner I couldn’t do it. I would pick it up and spin it for a few minutes and then do it again. Soon, I was only spinning it over and over again. Everything in the box was gone and I was still spinning that damn thing.
After I started playing with it, I realized that almost everyone had one. Where had I been hiding? They were everywhere with people spinning them. I was no exception. I spun it night and day. It was prettier than all the others. There weren’t any lights on it, but it would light up as it spun. It also made this weird humming noise. I went in and tried others in the store, but none were like this at all. I compared it to the fidget spinners my friends used and none of them could come even close. They wanted to try and I would just laugh at them. I always said no.
It wasn’t until after the first month I had it that I realized I had a problem. It was like an addiction. It was like that feeling one gets when holding a cigarette between your fingers and taking a very long puff. I couldn’t stop. I had been spinning for five days while at work, at home. I wasn’t sleeping. I didn’t realize this until I looked in the mirror and saw the bags under my eyes. Even when I went into work people asked if I wasn’t feeling well. When my boss called me into his office he told me to go home and get some rest after scolding me for not getting any work done.
When I got home, I just kept on spinning…and spinning. It was talking to me, I know it was. If I listened closely, I could hear it humming my name and whispering unintelligible phrases. I could even hear it laughing at me. It became hard to sleep at night at all while I sat on the couch and just watched the erroneous lights on the ends flash in different colors as it turned and turned and turned.
I’d find myself falling asleep and when the buzzing and whispering stopped, I would bolt up again and start spinning. It never ended. After 3 weeks, work fired me. I had no excuse. No doctors note. I stayed home sick for weeks and they called me and told me I was no longer helping the department and had to leave. They asked if everything was ok and if I needed any kind of help while finding a new job, I just hung up the phone then found 2 weeks of severance in my bank account the next day.
Two weeks later I found myself still spinning. I was weak from not eating and most likely severely dehydrated, but I couldn’t stop. The voices in the fidget spinner calmed me as it went round and round. Yesterday they turned off the lights and cable. I have no money to pay the bill. I chew on ice cubes so I don’t have to get up and get water. I think I’ve lost about 40 pounds just spinning and not eating.
“This has to stop now!” I managed through the tears. I stared at my reflection of my defunct television. Just a hollow shell, void of life, stared back at me. The only light was the spinner. I had shut all of the blinds so I could watch the lights in awe. Now that I’ve noticed my reflection, I’m terrified.
I stumbled into the kitchen and grabbed my electric knife. Stupidly I plugged it into the wall forgetting I couldn’t turn it on. The fidget spinner just spun, mocking me as I threw the knife on the ground. Through the tears I searched my knife drawer and found a steak knife. I started to cut at the skin on my wrist but the spinner mocked me. It laughed and hummed in a whimsical tune that a steak knife wasn’t sharp enough. Then I grabbed the bread knife and started to saw, half screaming until I passed out.
When I came to, I was weak. There was blood everywhere, but there was some relief. When I had passed out the fidget spinner had stopped and so had the bleeding. It wasn’t enough. With my right hand I tapped the end and it started spinning again, whispering and laughing. I dug deeper into the knife drawer and finally found it! With one large swoop and putting all of the strength I had left into my right arm, I sliced right down into my left wrist with the meat cleaver. I cried out as my hand tumbled across the floor, still grasping on to the fidget spinner. It continued to spin and laugh me as the room grew dark.
That is why I’m here, at the State Hospital for people with mental diseases. I sit here watching my stump in horror as I can still feel the presence of my hand and that damn fidget spinner.
This story is not under the CC license and is copyrighted by Spooky Boo. If you want to use this story in a video, please send a message to Spooky Boo directly. Thank you.
This is a true story that happened to me. One day while coming home from school on the bus we noticed a guy walking down the road which happened to be the main highway before they put in the freeway. I guess he must have seen me get off the bus because a few minutes after I got home he came to the door and asked to use my phone because he had a flat tire. I put the phone out on the porch using its really long chord and shut the door.
A few minutes later while I was making ramen in the kitchen, he walked up behind me. I felt a little bit of pressure on my back and he said, “I have a knife at your back and you are going to do what I say.”
Now, being the teen I was, I wasn’t going to put up with that nonsense. I put my hand behind my back to see what he had and it was his finger. I told him, “That isn’t a knife, that’s your finger!” Then I started yelling at him.
He got mad and while turning around to leave said, “You’re just a whore. You invite me into your house and tell me to leave!” It was something along those lines. I was too scared and ticked off to remember exactly what he said.
The next day at school I do believe the creeper was my substitute teacher.
The carnival. A place of happiness and carefree laughter. The place where children and parents laugh and ride the carnival rides while getting a thrill of a lifetime. It is also a place where the degenerate and creepy hide so that others may not find them.
We all know the stories about clowns and carnies. Well, we think we know the stories of clowns and carnies. Most of the tales are made up lies. MOST of them. Some of the clowns and carnies are different. Usually derelicts in their time. Anyone will hire a carnie because they can travel and move on with the fair. Most of them have a past and cannot find a normal job or career.
I know a lot about carnivals because I grew up with one. I moved from city to city with my father–watching the other kids play with their friends and parents while I sat alone without friends. There weren’t many kids who traveled with us so I was all alone. My dad taught me reading, writing, and math. He was really good with history. When high school rolled around I was able to stay and attend so I could go off to college. Dad said that the carnie lifestyle was no place for a woman–and he was right.
He didn’t smoke and drink a lot like the other carnies and clowns as he said he had to keep his head clear for his projects and jobs. His projects. THOSE projects he was so proud of and bragged about. I thought they were normal at the time. I had no idea what was going on until much later in life. It’s almost like a dream and it never happened except the screaming never stops in my head.
He always parked our trailer away from the camp or the fair. Normally we are supposed to stay with the group, but he loved to fish so we would find a lake to camp out at nearby if possible. If there were no lakes he would find a campground or other completely legal area. It had to be legal because God forbid someone searches his truck or trailer for any pot or other paraphernalia. God forbid if his projects were found.
He was always a good dad to me. He never raised a hand to me–well, he never had to either. He never swore in front of me. I wasn’t allowed to smoke or drink. He home schooled me and he must have done a pretty damn good job because I aced all of the exams to get into an excellent college. So he was a carnie, and I soon found out why.
It wasn’t because he was a known derelict or criminal. He didn’t have a criminal background. He didn’t rob people. He had never been to jail. I don’t even think he has ever had a speeding ticket. So why did he stay out of a normal lifestyle for the both of us?
Oh right. His projects.
The very first project I ever walked in on terrified me. It was the same week mom had disappeared. She traveled with us until I was about 4 years old. I can talk about it because I remember all of it now. years of therapy did that for me. For so long I wanted to pretend it was all a nightmare that I forgot what he did to her. He was hovering over a lifeless body when I walked in on the part of the trailer he called “the shop.” Our trailer was pretty big. He had the whole back area which had a small office I was never allowed in that he called “the shop.” Of course there was a little kitchenette in the middle with the dining room and living room in one. Then the hall area. My “room” was a little area with the bed above the truck cab, a closet and a small table. I also had a drape for privacy–which he never invaded. Privacy was very important to him.
That one night I was scared. I had heard something outside–someone screaming. Mom was gone for about a week by then and couldn’t comfort me. It was late, about 3 in the morning. I crawled down my ladder as I was too small to jump down still and walked through the dark trailer to the back. The door to his office was open a crack and the light was on so I peeked in. There, lying on a table was a woman. I could only see her naked body and the back of her head, but I swear it was her hair. I watched, knowing the person had to be sleeping or something. I didn’t understand death yet, I didn’t know what it was.
I watched as he cut her skin down the middle of her arm and through her sides, down her hip and to her ankles. She had no feet. He continued up her inner thigh and to the other side then back up to her other arm pit. I couldn’t see how he cut around her shoulders and head, but after he was done, he used some tools to loosen the skin from the woman’s body. He took the skin out his back door. Eyes wide and in a state of shock and confusion, I watched him hang the bloody mess outside the window on our laundry line that was hidden within a small group of trees.
Tears welled in my eyes as I stared at the horrifying mess of clotting blood, muscle, and fat–still in human form but for me not recognizably human at all. Blood dripped down from the finger tip slowly to the floor. I didn’t want the mess on the floor. I hated it. The skinned head fell to the side and stared at me with the dead, drying eyes almost falling out of its eye sockets. I cried hard as I grabbed a wet cloth from the bathroom and began cleaning the blood off of the floor.
The tears flowed harder as daddy picked me up in his arms and held me. “Drop the cloth,” he demanded.
I did, fearful that he might do the same to me if I disobeyed. He wiped my tears as he brought me into my room and calmed me with my bedtime song. “It’s all a bad dream,” he said. Go back to sleep, you were dreaming.
I awoke the next morning–fearful of what I might find. It must had been a really bad dream–a nightmare. There was nothing. His office was all clean and there was nothing hanging out back on the laundry line. I called out for mom, but of course, she didn’t answer. She was still gone. Dad and I went to the police station that day to report her missing. The cops still came over and checked out the place. They were pretty thorough. I so wanted to believe it was a dream, but I didn’t dare say anything or daddy might get mad.
We spent the remaining days at the fair as happy as ever. I missed mom, but kids kind of adapt quickly I suppose. He made sure I was having a lot of fun then we moved on to the next town. I know he did spend a lot of time in his office, but he never invited me in and he never had any women over that I knew of. Something always held me back from opening the door to see if he was there.
When we arrived at the next town, he brought out a little present for me. “Look darling, a new pair of gloves for you!” he sounded so happy. He caressed them while holding them up to his cheek. A glint of sadness hit his face for a brief moment then he smiled real big and pressed them up to my face.
“Look baby, almost as smooth as your mom’s touch.”
They were beautiful, etched with a special silky thread that reminded me of the color of mom’s hair. They were smooth and comfortable. I wore them every day until I grew out of them. Then, one day when dad and I were playing softball out back, the cops came. They grabbed me and took me away. I was about 9 years old. I screamed out his name and cried while still trying to jump out of their arms. I watched as they knocked him to his knees and handcuffed him.
Years later, when I was old enough to see him again, I went to visit him in prison. He just smiled and asked if I still had them and wondered if I thought a lot about Mom. That is when I knew for sure what he had done. Tears filled my eyes as I walked out of the jail without a word. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t dare speak to him ever again. I don’t know how many women he had killed…murdered and given me their leather. Every week it was always something new and beautiful. I suddenly hated myself for enjoying the clothes and purses he gave to me. All of the pieces I handed over to the police. Pants, shirts, skirts, necklaces, it was endless. I didn’t know how many women these came from, and neither did they. Most could not be identified, but they were human skin. The only pieces I didn’t give were the gloves that I cradle next to me before I fall sleep every night.
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A couple looking for a home wonder why this one is so inexpensive. They don’t realize it is haunted and will pull you into your freakiest dreams.
This is a story I actually wrote speaking it adlib over the cell phone at one time I was waiting for a ride. It was a very good story, then before I could transfer the story to my google drive, my phone rebooted and it wasn’t saved. I tried to recreate it here. It’s a little different from the original.
A little boy loves to go out and play with others unless the dark friend inside his head starts to get mean to the others.
Do you ever stare at the wall and count the faces? The boy did and they started coming alive! No one else noticed except for a girl he met on vacation then she could see them too. I have to transcribe this story.
This is something that happened a long, long time ago. I also had the story posted to another website that went down. I will need to transcribe it at some point. The story is that two bad 12 year old girls called each other’s mothers to say they were going to stay the night at the other’s house. We all know where that is going…they stayed out all night until one disgusting pig of a male, a Mexican gangster, did something horrendous. There was revenge though. This all happened next to the railroad tracks and he didn’t see that train coming.
Welcome to Scary Story Time where scary stories and horror stories written by Spooky Boo Rhodes will keep you up at night. Today’s story is a creepy little tale from Sandcastle, California. A young woman is down partying at the beach with her high school friends and she takes off with a very cute guy. Soon, she realizes that she’s in a lot of trouble and runs as fast as she can to be saved only to get stuck in a creepy cabin in the woods.
First, I’d like to invite you to chat with my friends and I tonight while watching Creature Features on YouTube. It starts at 10 PM, Pacific and we’ll all be there watching the old B horror movies while enjoying the fun guests and the horror host with the adorable hair, Vincent Van Dahl, and his very astute valet Livingston and devious ward Tangella. Join us in the chat room to say hi and have some fun.
Now let’s begin.
Darkness. Darkness was all Desi could see around her. She felt around the cold, hard ground of the street for anything she could grasp, but only wet gravel and dirt settled between her fingers. With her eyes as wide open as she could muster between the sharp, exploding pains on her shoulder, she followed the only light she could see with her tired eyes.
On her hands and knees, she crawled toward the soft light in the distance. She didn’t know exactly where she was, but she knew she had to be somewhere in the forest east of Sandcastle. There weren’t too many roads in the woods, but this one was leading her down a graveled path to whatever was holding the dim light on the horizon.
Her hands shook as the sharp stones and sticks dug into her palms and knees but she knew if she stopped at any time her body would collapse and she would die from the elements–or possibly from whatever was chasing her. The dress she wore to the party was wet and her shoes were long gone during the chase through the sandy beach. She thought maybe she could lose the monster behind her by going around the sleeping town and hiding in the woods, but she was wrong. The beast taunted her, growled at her from behind and from all sides. It was relentless, never giving up.
With tears now streaming down her cheeks as she neared the stairs to the building in front of her, she carefully stood on two very blistered and bleeding feet. The cold from the wet ground stabbed into her soles through the cuts and bruises formed by fallen branches of the redwood trees. With her fingers possibly broken from the rocks that were dropped on her hands by this thing chasing her, she grasped the splintered wooden staircase, screaming as she pulled herself up the broken stairs to the door.
“Help me,” she whispered at first then, as she stared out into the depths of darkness behind her, she screamed the words and pounded on the door. She knew it was out there, hunting her. Taunting her. “Let me in, please!”
The door creaked as it opened and two strong arms pulled her inside and shut it behind her. The man dropped her to the floor and disappeared into another room. Desi crawled to the fireplace and huddled against the warm bricks searching for any heat that could warm her skin. She pulled her knees in close to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs and sobbed.
She watched the feet of the man who pulled her to safety. His shoes didn’t belong in that old musty place. There was dust everywhere but the fine alligator leather of his boots seemed untouched. He stopped right before her and draped a warm blanket around her shoulders. She sighed in the slight comfort he offered then, exhausted, she rolled into a ball and fell asleep.
Upon awaking, Desi found herself stretched out on the couch with blankets wrapped around her. Startled that someone had changed her clothes for her and tended to her cuts and bruises, she covered herself even more. She felt vulnerable and weak. She was also very hungry which became even more apparent when she realized the smell of fresh bread and beef stew were cooking somewhere in the small house. She sat up and, through a wave of dizziness and pain, Desi placed her legs in front of her. Her feet hurt so bad that she wasn’t even sure that she would be able to stand, but she tried anyway.
Toppling forward, she screamed as her face hit the table in front of her. A new, searing pain shot through her ankle to her brain. Panting and feeling for her foot with her fingers, she realized it wasn’t the pain that knocked her down. Her foot? Where in the hell was her foot? She fumbled around her other ankle realizing that both of her feet were gone.
“Who the hell are you? What did you do to me?” She cried into the darkness.
A man appeared in the doorway carrying a kerosene lamp. After placing the lamp on the table, he pulled her back up to a sitting position on the couch and checked the bandages on the stubs that used to be her feet. Tears poured down her cheeks as he stared at her. Maybe it was drugs, but she couldn’t quite make out his face. Where his eye sockets should have been there was nothing but black orbs with a small glint of light. It was then she realized that his skin wasn’t like normal skin. It was a deep shade of obsidian and shiny. No, not shiny, scales. Irridescent, black scales.
“What are you?” she cried, looking down at his feet. It was then she understood the smooth leather she thought were alligator shoes were his feet.
She recoiled as he put his hand out and touched her cheek. His fingers were cold. His skin was icy. His eyes glowed amber for a moment and then settled back into the deep pools of black.
“Where my feet?” she cried out again.
The creature shook his head and opened his mouth as if to speak. Nothing came out as his long tongue slithered from his mouth and wiped his browbone. He shrugged and pulled one of her ankle stubs up on his lap. He carefully unwrapped the bandage and with a handful of salve from the bowl, he caressed it into the stub of where her foot used to be.
With one big sigh, Desi relaxed into the caresses of his dark fingers. The salve, or whatever it was, had a soothing effect. It was warm to the touch and intoxicating. He continued with her other stub as she watched somewhat confused but still relieved. Almost ready to fall asleep, the pain in her bones started. Her ankles screamed in pain as they burned.
“What did you do to me?” Desi screeched in pain.
The creature shook his head and pointed down at her legs. She watched as a shiny black foot, similar to his scaly hands, began protruding through the wound where her foot was once attached. The other ankle began burning and as she screamed through the pain, a black foot appeared on the other leg. The man-like lizard creature rubbed more salve over her new feet, almost smiling in the process. As he did, he worked up her ankles and calves then her knees and thighs. The minty lotion burned her skin, but the smell soothed her soul. She accepted his hands upon her body as he worked in this cream on her torso, neck, and arms. Desi fully relaxed.
Feeling like she just came back from a drunken stupor, Desi forced her eyelids to open and watched as the lizard-like man raised an ax above her right hand. She tried to move, but the state of her mind could barely even will her limb to budge. Screaming as the ax severed through her wrist, she tried to move away, but he held her down and wrapped her wrist in the salve and bandages. When the ax raised again, she only sobbed, knowing the outcome of her other hand was inevitable.
This time it didn’t go all the way through. He looked down upon her and she noticed a bit of sorrow in his glowing amber eyes. Could he be sorry for what this creature was doing to her? The ax raised again and her hand toppled to the floor yet she didn’t scream anymore. The shock masked the pain and she just stared at the bloodied edge of the ax.
His tongue dabbed at the tears now falling down his cheek and she watched with morbid curiosity. He looked very familiar. As he bandaged up the second wrist, she wondered where she had seen that look in his eyes before. He seemed to smile when he gently placed her arm on her chest and tied the two stumps together above her heart then taped them there. He then grabbed a bowl of the stew and offered to feed her.
Desi shook her head no as her stomach recoiled. Although it smelled delicious, the thought of food sent a piercing pain through her gut. All she wanted right now was to sleep and wake up from this nightmare but she was afraid to sleep. What would disappear next and why in the hell were her feet dark green? She looked down at her feet that were propped up on the coffee table. She wiggled her new toes with their long, sharp nails.
“I’m dreaming. I’m having a nightmare. That’s all.” she laughed, staring at the lizard creature before her.
“Shhh…” he hissed and held his crooked, green index finger up to his lips.
“That is the first thing you’ve said to me all night. What are you?”
It shook its head and then looked down in what seemed to be despair. Desi looked at the door and wondered if she could crawl out of it and get back to town. To the police station. Anywhere that could help get the drugs out of her system that were causing this illusion.
The creature pointed to her feet then hands and the word “no” hissed through the slanted mouth. She followed the direction of its eyes then looked up her legs realizing they were now turning the same dark obsidian color as his feet.
“What did you do to me?” she cried out. The pain in the stubs in her wrists started to work their way into her arms and elbows. Horrified, she watched a stub of a hand pop through the bandage wrap. Just like his hands, it was green, grey and black. Next came the fingers with the sharp, lizard-like nails tearing through the flesh of the new hand. One by one they popped out until there were five, long crooked fingers with nails sharp enough to shred through his skin and run. Before she could even act upon her thoughts, he handcuffed her by one arm to the iron bar between the couch and fireplace.
“Nooo,” the creature shook its head and hissed. It almost sounded human.
Desi swiped at him with her new claw, managing to slice into his arm and hand. One of his fingers dropped to the floor as he wailed in pain. Thick red blood dripped from the empty finger socket. He looked at her, but not with anger in his eyes. It was more of sadness and pain. He licked his tears away with his forked tongue and bandaged his own wound with the salve and threads just like he did to her. She watched him, recognizing his face and his eyes. She hadn’t seen that look in 10 years, but it couldn’t be. He was gone and this creature was not him. It couldn’t be him.
She looked at the similarities in her new feet and hands with his. Somehow they suddenly felt right. They seemed normal to her, but that didn’t take away the horror of what was happening. He butchered her limbs to create these new appendages. It had to be drugs. Someone probably slipped something into her drink at the party was the only explanation, but there was that guy with the glowing eyes. What was his name? Marcus? Now she remembered. It was Marcus who was chasing her, but it wasn’t him. They hooked up at the party and took off under the cliff by the shoreline. They were kissing and his eyes turned amber then he growled like a beast and bit into her neck. With the wound deep, she took off running, stumbling in the sand and losing her shoes along the way in the tide. The bonfire had already been put out and the people went home. They were only two left and no one even knew she was in trouble.
Marcus chased after her, but she was faster than him even while she crawled on all fours and scurried to the woods trying to hide from him. How did she know to come to this cabin? She had never seen it before but knew where to go. With his eyes still glowing, she could see him but he was no longer human. The guy she hooked up with at the beach party stalked her from the trees, growling and coming closer. That is when she saw the old cabin in the woods and knew there would be someone to help her. Deep inside she knew she would be safe here.
Desi could see from the glow of the fire that the rest her body began to turn green and black. Scales formed on her skin everywhere. She touched her face with her new fingers and knew her face hadn’t changed yet. “What did you do to me? Am I dreaming? Drugged?”
The creature shook its head no and pulled forth the ax again, this time with hesitation. Desi studied its eyes and understood the pure sorrow it was feeling. “No, don’t. Please don’t,” she pleaded, knowing what was coming next.
He pushed her head down on the stone table in front of her and held her there with one scaled foot. As he raised the ax over her neck, he wailed. For a moment, she heard the pain in his scream and knew it was something he didn’t want to do. She watched the blood pouring from her neck as her head toppled to the floor. With the lights fading around her, she saw him bandaging up her neck with salve and cotton.
~~~
Stretching in the warm sunlight coming from the window, Desi sighed in relief. It was all a horrible dream. Just an awful nightmare! She slipped out of bed, realizing that her feet felt different. Her toenails were longer, touching the ground as she walked. They clicked with every step. Desi looked down at her feet and tried to scream when she realized her feet were still green, but nothing came out of her mouth. She looked at her hands, and they too were green and black. Shredding her nightgown off, she looked at her whole body that was suddenly full of lizard scales. She felt cold and wrapped her blankets around her before stepping into the bathroom of the old cabin. Her mind raced and she wanted to scream help me as she looked in the mirror, but should couldn’t let out the words. Licking the tears from her eyes with her long, forked tongue, she realized who the man was that saved life–it was her father.”
“No one will ever hurt you again, Desi.” she heard her father speak from the other side of the bathroom door. “I’m sorry I had to do what I did, but you were going to die or become one of them. I had to save your life.”
All she heard were hisses and clicks of his throat, but she understood what he was saying. Deep inside she knew all along what he was–what they were–and now she knew she could never go back to her old life again.
Thank you for listening to this story on my horror podcast. If you enjoyed it, be sure to let everyone know about the fun stories you hear on Spooky Boo’s Scary Story Time and make a comment on the website at www.scarystorytime.com.
That’s all for tonight. I’ll see you in your nightmares.
