Never go on the dark web, look for classified ads from weird sources, and most of all click on weird links sent to you by friends on social media!
These two terrifying stories will hopefully disturb you and keep you from doing silly things you would never do with your guard down!
This guy is out of work and desperate so he takes a job on the deep web for a log of money. I mean, he’s seriously getting paid bank in crypto. When he finds out what the booty is though, will he continue to do the job? Read it and find out. Let me know what you think about the story in the comments.
Transcription: I Took a Disturbing Job on the Deep Web
This super weird clown video will really creep you out!
Have you ever seen Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory from the 1970s? My favorite part was, you guessed it!, the boat scene. If you haven’t seen it and you love scary movies or scary stories then you must. It is beyond bizarre. It was so incredibly and wonderfully creepy. The only part I didn’t like was the chicken getting its head cut off. Being a 4-H kid growing up that might sound strange to some, but we were all into that kind of thing. I am by no means a vegetarian, but I’ll save the butchering for someone else to do, thank you very much!
Anyway, with all the bugs and gore along with Gene Wilder’s wonderful presentation, we were all creeped out and those of us who loved horror were pleasantly entertained. I was one of those kids. I’ve loved scary stuff since…I don’t really know! I was watching horror movies at the ripe young age of 4 or 5 years old.
I enjoy making these kinds of creepy videos. They remind me of that tunnel and all of the weirdness. They remind me of the strange voice, the flashing lights, and yes, the gross chicken part as well as the creepy bugs and fun. I want to make more of these but I have to get out and find more creepy stuff. It isn’t the special effects of CGI that fascinates me, it’s what you can put together with real cringe. That’s why I love 70s horror better than anything today. Sure, the new Texas Chainsaw Massacre might have some great kill scenes. I thought the part where he broke the cop’s arm off at the wrist and then stabbed him with the arm bone was rather unique, but it wasn’t gross and weird. In fact, weird is scarier than gross. I’m much more disturbed by the cast picking up sausages covered in tomato sauce and than blood spatter all over the walls. I’m pretty sure a few of the 70s movies used real animal meat in those scenes. I just hope they really did have a BBQ after because I simply hate to see an animal’s life wasted for just a movie. I know, I’m weird like that. Give it to another animal if you must, but don’t toss it away.
So go and watch my movie Ode to the Clowns | Ode to Pennywise and let me know what you think. I will probably make more of these when I have some time to be weird.
It wasn’t the pot of gold or the luck charm that intrigued me the most about the visit from that strange little man the other day. It was the way he looked so familiar to me. His eyes looked somewhat like my father’s unworldly green eyes and his lips a tad bit like my mom’s. Like all of us in the family, he was short and had a lot of red hair. The puffs of curls under his black hat made it sit about an inch too tall and his bushy eyebrows, something of my father’s that annoyed him the most, must have bothered the short man’s eyesight terribly. His nose reminded me of my Uncle Doyle’s nose, big, fat, and full of tiny red spider veins like he’d been drinking whiskey for most of his life. Not to mention those round red cheeks, just like my Aunt Erin’s. There wasn’t a day that went by when she wasn’t teased about those rosy knots.
I swear this little guy was a relative straight from Ireland but I didn’t know any of my Irish relatives. In fact, we are so far removed from any European ancestry that we don’t even speak any of the languages except for English—Americanized English. We’ve been here over 200 years and some parts of the family maybe even 400 years not including the lines of Cherokee we are supposed to have in our bloodline.
Yet, all the same, it didn’t matter what I know or what I didn’t. He came into the house wondering where I had stashed his grandfather’s locket and I didn’t have a clue about what he was talking about.
“Ye have me grandfather’s locket in ye pocket, fair lass,” he said, looking me up and down like I was a bottle of old whiskey.
“I don’t own a locket and I haven’t the slightest clue who your grandfather is.”
“Oh, he died many moons ago. Terrible thing, he was run over by six horses with a buggy. Back in his day, they didn’t have cars and the man who stole his locket was quite the horseman. He knew how to steer those horses wild to run over my grandpappy. Why I seen it with me own eyes. The hooves trotted right over his limbs, flattening them like pancakes, but what was really repulsive is when the hard wooden wheel of the carriage rolled right over his head. The damn thing exploded! Popped from both sides sending brain matter all over the crowd. Women and children were screaming and the men were shielding their families so they wouldn’t get blood all over their Sunday clothes. Such a shame. He wasn’t the most generous man in the world and he had some wicked ways about him–many that he taught me. All he had left was that damn locket that carried the secret to all the riches in the world. Now give it to me!”
“Just how old are you?” I figured I’d ask and entertain the drunk. Obviously, he wasn’t even over 50 and was probably really good at telling tall tales to steal from people.
“Trying to change the subject now, are we?” He puffed up his chest as best as he could probably trying to impress me. “I’m 450 years old in human years,” he said as he eyed the gold chain with a small key amulet hanging from my neck that my grandfather gave me when I was 12.
“You’re 450 years old, hmm? Look, I don’t have your grandfather’s locket, and I sure as hell don’t believe you’re 450 years old. Now get out of my house before I call the police.”
He scoffed at me before turning toward the door, “I want me gold, lady. It’s mine and you will give it to me or else!”
Before he could utter another word, I pushed him out the door with the heavy wooden door slamming behind him. As the door slammed shut, I felt my fingers tingle. Shaking them off as I would if my arm fell asleep, a strange golden mist appeared before me. I moving my fingers around in the air, watching the hypnotic glow form a trail before my eyes. It floated up the stairs and into my bedroom. As I followed, I felt the room moving around me as my steps grew heavy. Pinching myself for not wearing any trace green pm St. Patrick’s Day and trying to up the pace, I laughed like a drunken sailor.
The golden glow halted at my closet door. When I opened the door, it swirled around in front of the attic door in the ceiling. I pulled the latch and the old wooden stairs lowered to the floor. I sneezed lightlty as dust fell from the door and landed in a circle around me. The gold seemed to be protecting me from the tiny falling granules of dirt and decay as I climbed the stair to the attic. No one had been in this room since right after grandpa died. He gave me the house since I was his only last living relative and after spending hours sorting through the old farm clothes of jeans and wool shirts, I figured there was nothing that I wanted to keep or wear. I put it all away to sort through for a rainy day and sell or donate to another potato farmer who would make use of it all.
After opening the window over looking the fields to air out the room, I began rummaging through all of the old piles of clothes and boots. Honestly, I don’t think the man ever washed his clothes. It looked like he just bought new clothes a week after wearing the old ones and left them up here to rot. The boots were another story. He had tons of boots and all different sizes, too. Some with brass buckles and others just straight leather. Even stranger, they were all different sizes. Perhaps he had been saving them since he was a child?
When I realized I was just making pile after pile tossing clothes and shoes around, I began tossing everything out of the window. As the room grew cleaner, the gold haze glowed brighter until right there, out from under a pile of old jeans, was a little brown box. I picked up the tiny box and examined it then clutched the key hanging from the gold chain on my neck. The key my grandfather left me, I always thought it was just a pretty trinket because it was so small! I pulled the chain over my head, carful not to get it tangled in my mess of red hair, then pushed the tiny end into the keyhole.
When the box popped open, the lid bounced back so hard the locket inside flew out with a start and into my mouth! No sooner could I cough the little ornate piece of gold jewelry out before I accidentally swallowed it down into my belly. It was small enough to not cause a problem I suppose. I could try to throw it up, but I was afraid I would only hurt myself so I let it sit.
That night I felt weird. It wasn’t sick to the stomach weird or I accidentally swolled a key weird, it was different than anything I had ever known. The magic that happened during the day was real yet it felt unreal. Unearthly is perhaps a better word. I thought about the little man and what he said about his age. He was tiny and he wasn’t small enough to be a…nah, it couldn’t be. That’s absured. We are almost 100% born and bred Irish with the exception of that sliver of Italian one of my naughty grandmothers met in a bar one cold night which is probably where I get my olive complexion while the rest of my family is as white as a fitted sheet. Most of the women in my family are short, well endowed, and very fair skinned with beautiful red hair. I was the oddball with olive skin and auburn hair but with deep green eyes. And yes, I’m still short by most standards. But as short as a Leprechaun?
I ignored the sleep I needed and ran down to my grandfather’s library of books I kept on the old bookshelf. I really didn’t have the heart to get rid of all of his stuff and most of it was handed down for generations. It was probably worth a small fortune so I kept it, including his old farming and medical books. He was rarely one for fiction except that one about Fairies and Folklore. I never questioned its existance..until now. I pulled the heavy book off the shelf and began studying its cover. It remained surprsingly clean despite that no one has touched it in over 20 years. The binding felt like leather and seemed warm to the touch. A little sickened by its feel, I opened the cover and began thumbing through the pages until I found the word, well goodness, I can’t even begin to know how to pronounce it because no one taught me anything about our ancestors really, but it looked enough like leprechaun to me. So I started looking through the pages and as I did, the old Celtic prose began to form words of English right in front of my very eyes.
I watched as they began sentences and paragraphs of something I could actually understand. There were handdrawn pictures of short little people with fluffy hair and shoes with brass looking buckles. There were fairies with wings riding unicorns and others dancing in the air. The trees looked to be alive with faces, laughing along with the rest of the group. As I stared more at the page, it began to move with life. Giggles from the fae filled the room and the small, squeaky bellow of a belly laugh erupted from the short, red-headed man holding a golden locket. I didn’t get a hard glimpse of the jewelry I now wore in my stomach, but it looked a lot like what zoomed past my face!
“Hey…” My voice trembled as I peered into the book, trying to get their attention.
With glaring eyes, their heads turned instantly in my direction. One fairy spat at me. The tiny droplets hit the top of my hand and it burned. Another screamed and another cried. Their laughter and fun ended as they scattered in all directions, hiding inside the trees who took them in willingly.
“I won’t hurt you,” I ran my finger down the page. It rippled with an intense dark feeling that swarmed all around me. The tallest fairy came out of the tree and stared at me for a moment.
“What do you want?” she asked in a language I was not familiar with yet I could understand every word.
“Believe me, I’m as shocked as you are to find this book here but I have a man after me and as weird as this conversation is, I think you can help me.”
“What man?” the woman asked, motioning for her companions to come out from hiding.
As the little people in the book drifted out from the trees, they all sat together in a group holding hands and listened with such intent that I thought the pages became a picture again.
“A cruel man. I think he killed my grandfather for a trinket my grandfather had hidden. A tiny golden locket that I accidentally swallowed.” The pages of the book filled with laughter from the tiny voices and as I shook my head and continued, they quieted down again. “He has threatened me and told me I have until tonight to produce the locket, but I know he is evil. There is no way to get it out right now anyway.”
The tallest fairy motioned for the short red headed man to speak and speak he did. Small was his body, but his voice boomed into the room. “Leave the book open on the table and invite him into the house tonight for we will finally take care of this being and after all we ask is that you close the book and leave us be.”
“You got it!”
Feeling a bit stupid that I just spoke to a picture in a book, I left the pages open on the table. I could just barely hear them carrying on with their fun as I picked up around the house and waited for the stranger to come back and as the sun set behind the woods, there was a stern knock of three on the front door.
I opened the door and in walked the Leprechaun, twisting his long pipe in his hand. He was now dressed all in green and sported a little black hat with a green band and a gold buckle. While his clothes were quite beautiful, he was not. He was no longer the happy young fellow who appeared before me earlier in the afternoon. This man had brown, weathered skin and pointed ears like a Vulcan. His nose was long but curled under itself and his lips were dry and thin. His bloodshot eyes glowed yellowish green and I could feel the penetrating my soul. He held out one small hand with crooked, curled fingers and long, sharp fingernails.
“Give the locket, now.” he demanded without a hello.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I spat at him but then remembered what the Leprechaun in the book had said and softened my voice. “Maybe I can go find it for you, if you just wait here.
“Cailín, you don’t fook me. I can feel the locket. It is inside of you.”
My belly began to burn as he hands turned circles in front of me. I looked down at where the pain stabbed my gut and I could see the pattern of the small locket underneath my skin and feel it pressing to get out of my body. I burned like nothing I had ever felt before. I dropped to my knees, unable to withstand the pain and cried.
“Make it stop!” I whimpered.
“Too late!” he giggled and continued to move his hands around in circles. “The gold will be mine!”
The sound of a harp filled the room and the people from the pages of the book came to life. The pain grew in my belly as two of the faries pushed the leprechaun down to the ground and continued to chant his spell. They held him there until the tallest Fae stepped into view from the inside of the tree. She walked over to him, standing above his body then began to hum the most beautiful song I had ever heard. It’s magic consumed my thoughts and the pain was gone. I watched as the locket drilled through my skin creating a tiny, bloody hole but it didn’t hurt. She grabbed the locket from the air and then pushed it down upon the Leprechaun’s forhead.
He screamed as his skin began to melt from his body in big pools of pink goo all around him. The blood and muscles dissolved quickly with the stench of death and erosion. His eyeballs popped out of their sockets and hung to the side of his rotting skull, yet still attached by the bloody optic nerve and some muscle as he still continued to look around the room in pain. While snapping his jaw, seemingly trying to speak, the fairy put her heel upon his forhead.
“Your time has come to an end, finally. There will be no more pots of gold fairy tales or stealing the wealth of the poor or rich. You will now become one with the Earth, evil one.” And with that, she stomped on his skull with crunch, sending brainmatter all over the livingroom floor.
I looked down at my belly and to my amazement, the pain and wounds were gone. The fairy looked at me and shrugged, “Better than waiting for another day for it to come out, isn’t it?”
And with a wave of her hand, she and the rotting corpse vanished as did the strange visitors. I heard them calling from the pages of the old book on the table and as promised, I closed it shut then sat down wondering if it was just really all a bad dream.
“I love you, Cailín,” I heard my grandfather’s voice in the air all around me and felt something drape around my neck. It was the necklace with the key trinket he gave me so long ago. I grasped it and felt the magic flow through me as I put the book back on the shelf and embraced who I really was after all.
So, you wanna catch a Leprechaun, aye?
My fascination with the tricky little green bastards started one year ago today—St. Patrick’s Day. Or, rather, the Eve of St. Patrick’s Day—when my daughter brought home one of those tiny makeshift “leprechaun traps” that they make in Elementary schools for the holiday. It was a cute ‘lil thing: an old shoebox, painted green, held up by a popsicle stick tied to a sliver of green yarn. Clever, I’ll give it that.
It was what she said, however, as she placed the thing next to the doggy door in the kitchen, that struck me as deceptively clever, “you can only catch ‘em if you believe in ‘em, Dad!”
Now, that’s exactly the kind of thing that a public elementary school teacher would say: if it doesn’t work, you didn’t “believe hard enough.” A good excuse, no doubt, which leads to my first, and most important, point:
And let’s get it out of the way: you don’t actually believe in Leprechauns. I know it’s a cute idea: the whole “pot o’ gold at the end of the rainbow” scenario. But, let’s be adults here: scientifically speaking, anyways, rainbows have no end. They’re circles—which makes the entire idea one big joke. Kids eat this stuff up—just like Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy—but just like anything that’s too good to be true, it isn’t. There’s no pot of gold ‘cause there’s no end to a rainbow. And there’s no little Irish guy that you can catch that will magically grant you three wishes to let him go, right?
Well, so I thought.
See, despite my unbelief my daughter very much believed in the whole Leprechaun thing. And that’s the part that matters. How’s the Proverb go? Faith like a child? That’s the idea, here.
So, step one is that you need a child. Presumably yours. If you don’t have a child then I question your interests in the whole “Leprechaun” thing to begin with but—I digress. Obviously, the younger the better. Because younger children tend to be more—pardon my bluntness—stupid. They believe in a lot, and you’d be surprised as to how large of a commodity belief is in the world of the supernatural. In a word: very.
Step two is getting to know your adversary. Just like any hunter, you’ve got to get, at least in a rudimentary sense, an understanding of your prey. Leprechauns are small, but they aren’t stupid. And I know you still don’t believe in them, but they don’t care. In fact, they hope you don’t believe—that’s a part of their trick.
Leprechauns are Irish folklore, obviously, deriving many of their legends and lores from the stories of Celtic faes, or fairies. Unlike many types of fae, however, Leprechauns are always male. Don’t ask, it’s magic. And, just like most males, Leprechauns are mischievous. Oh, and they love money. Mostly gold, but you already knew that.
When I say love, I really stress love—as in, they will kill for this gold. Think about it: imagine being three to eight inches (maybe taller, I’m not exactly sure) in stature, cunning as all hell to begin with, and schlockered up on Irish whiskey. You’d kill anyone that’d try to so-much-as look at your gold, wouldn’t you? So, moving forward with this whole ordeal, be careful. I will not be held responsible if you’re not so “lucky” by the end of this.
Now that you’ve got the basics, it’s time to get into the nitty-gritty: catching a live Leprechaun.
You’re going to feel like an idiot. But just like any idiot that strikes gold, you’ll be begging for someone to pinch you cause you’ll feel like you’re dreaming. Either that or you weren’t wearing any green. My daughter saw to that one…
This leads me to the bait. Which, if you fish you should know this, is the key to catching the right prey. There are a couple of options, some better than others, but here’s the basic breakdown:
Simplest of all, you’ve got potatoes. Leprechauns love potatoes. Not as much as gold but, as any drunk Irish dude at a pub will tell you, they love a good spud. The downside to potatoes is that you’d only entice the really hungry Leprechauns. The other ones wouldn’t dare stick their neck out for a quick bite.
Secondly, you’ve got shoes. I know you do—probably some old, nasty ones stinking up your closet up to the Heavens right about now. It’s a little-known fact that Leprechauns are shoemakers, and shoe-fixer-uppers for that matter, so if you leave out some worn-down shoes, most of them can’t resist but mend and polish them. And, hey, if all else fails, at least you’ll have some nice shoes to fill by the end of this.
Lastly, and most costly is, obviously, gold. They simply can’t resist it. An old gold watch, gold tooth, gold…whatever will do the trick. Just make sure it’s not fool’s gold, or else the only fool is gonna be you.
Now, to trap the little runts you’re gonna need one of two things: a four-leaf clover, or iron. And, considering that four-leafers are one-in-ten-thousand, I assume the latter will be more readily available. Iron is extremely harmful to fairies of any kind, due to its contents being strictly “from Earth”—whatever that means. Iron is found in loads of common household products, like hammers or frying pans, so it should be easy to access. Even something as simple as a metal nail will do the trick. This is magic, after all.
In brief, you’re going to construct a little “leprechaun trap” of your own. Don’t overthink it: keep it simple, just like the kiddies do. And, speaking of kids, it needs to be arranged in the same household as a sleeping child. As I said before, their belief is the key to all of this.
It can be as small as a shoebox or as large as an entire room. Ideally, it should have only one “exit” point, to prevent the little bastard from escaping. Place your bait of choice in an obvious spot, and tie off something that makes noise to it. I need not go into every option but…use your imagination. We are talking about hunting Leprechauns, here. The easiest option would be to tie a tiny bell or something similar onto whichever bait you chose. That way, when the Leprechaun snags it—you snag him.
Leprechauns are solitary fairies, which means they tend to say out of the limelight—which also means you’ll probably need to be up late for this trap to work. It could be anywhere from sunset to sunrise, but a good rule of thumb is between midnight and four AM.
I cannot stress enough that Leprechauns are tricksters. You probably won’t see the little imp, but don’t let your unbelief fool you…he’s there. Any rapid clicks or chimes that you might hear late in the night are nothing but the belts on his shoes. And if you hear them, you’ll realize how fast these little things are. So be alert.
If you’ve ever read up on Saint Patrick, you might’ve heard the legend of how he banished all the snakes from Ireland. Some say this is a half-truth. Some say these “snakes” were actually Leprechauns themselves. No scholars will confirm this, of course, but keep in mind that Patrick wanted to spread Christianity in a nation full of Pagans; Pagans who believed in, and worshiped, gods like Lugh—a craftsman and crafty warrior. If that name doesn’t ring any bells for you, keep in mind that Lugh is sometimes pronounced “Luq”…as in, the Luck of the Irish. I told you these things are deceptive little devils. Why else would Saint Patrick call them “snakes”?
Once you hear the audible sound of your trap snapping into action, you’ll have but seconds to react. As I said, they’re fast. If your trap’s under a box, pull the string and place your iron object atop it. If the trap is in a room, barricade the door with your iron object. It’ll take only seconds for him to realize he’s been caught, but even less time to think up a trick to get himself out of it.
Do not forget this: he owes you three wishes, now.
Don’t be surprised if he doesn’t start talking right away. He’s counting on your unbelief, waiting for you to lift that box, open that door. Don’t give him the satisfaction of such a simple escape.
If you successfully keep him trapped for a certain duration of time, he’ll realize he’s been bested, and think up a new scheme to weasel his way out of his obligation of the three wishes. They’re stingy—don’t let this one escape without your ransom payment.
Some Leprechaun catchers claim they’ve heard sounds from within the traps—sounds of helpless pets or loved ones—begging to be set free. Or, maybe, they’ll watch a beloved family photograph “randomly” fall from the wall, prompting the use of that iron hammer all-so conveniently.
These are all tricks. The Leprechaun knows just the right buttons to press. They think humans are stupid, greedy monsters. Don’t let him win.
You’ve got to be tough. You’ve got to believe. ‘Cause, when I heard the voice of my daughter from the other side of our basement door, I doubted myself, and this whole “Leprechaun” thing, for a long minute.
“Daddy? Why are my school sneakers in the basement? I can’t open the door, Daddy!”
It’s a really good trick—the kind that messes with your mind. Do not, no matter what he tells you with that lying, deceptive tongue, open that door, lift that box.
And be prepared for a long struggle. Leprechauns don’t give up their gold, their wishes, their lies, easily. It might take hours, days…weeks to get the little bastard to give in. Hell, it took mine nearly a week just to give up the whole daughter mimicry charade. It hasn’t spoken since, but I refuse to open the basement door until it does.
I know it will—eventually. And always remember: it owes you those three wishes.
Hey, it’s Spooky Boo. Happy St. Patrick’s Day! I hope you’re going to have some fun tonight! Tonight’s episode is made possible by you, the wonderful listeners of the podcast and by the Patreon members including madjoe, PA Nightmares, Ivy Iverson, John Newby, and Patrick. If you would like to know how you can support the show, please visit my website at www.scarystorytime.com/support.
I’d love to hear your stories. Send them into me by visiting my website at www.scarystorytime.com/submissions or you can call in your stories for up to 3 minutes to hear on the livestream at 707SPOOKYB – that is 707-776-6592.
That’s all for tonight. I’ll see you in your nightmares.
Good evening. It’s Spooky Boo coming to you from the shores of Sandcastle, California on the radio waves of KSND: The sound of the sea. Tonight I bring to you a new story in the continuing saga of Sandcastle. Starting now, every week I bring to you a story out of the world of Sandcastle. Stories about the residents that will terrify you and make you yearn for the mystical world of this quaint little Northern California town. These horror stories written by Spooky Boo are found on this podcast. If you would like to listen to more stories told by Spooky Boo but written by others, visit my other podcast at www.creepypastascarystories.com.
Tonight I have for you two creepy stories about Timmy Statton. Do you remember Timmy? The boy who was taken away by the military due to his curious behavior at the ballpark? If not, then go listen to or read the story Blister.
The first story, Can Timmy Come Out to Play was one of my first stories about Sandcastle written back in 2016. I had no text for the story as I adlibbed the prose for YouTube. Back then I wasn’t podcasting yet. The copy was so terrible sounding that I’m remastering it today and continuing on with the story of Timothy Statton.
These stories would not be possible without the support of my listeners and Patrons. I’d like to thank all of you including Patrons 933TheVolt, BubbleSlayer, Ivy Iverson, madjoe, Oliver, and P.A. Nightmares. If you would like to get the podcast commercial-free and support Spooky Boo’s Scary Story Time podcasts including the works of Spooky Boo in Sandcastle and the Creepypasta True Scary Stories podcast, visit my Patreon page at www.spookyboo.club.
I’d like to invite you to watch Creature Features with me on Saturday nights on YouTube. We love watching the horror host Vincent Van Dahl interview fun guests while Mr. Livingston puts up with Tangella’s shenanigans. Find out your show time at www.creaturefeatures.tv.
Now let’s begin…
Sometimes mental illness can be deadly and bring out the bully in you. Listen to the story of Timmy. When Timmy Staton was a young boy, something went terribly wrong when he was taken by the military whose medical teams removed the venom of genetically altered spiders was removed from his system. Since then, his life has been a living hell.
These are just two of Timmy’s stories from Sandcastle, California. The first story is one I wrote many years ago. In fact, it’s an adlib story that I just came with while podcasting. Poor Timmy.
Here I sit listening to the same music I do every night while trying to avoid little Timmy. You see, Timmy has been coming around here for quite some time. He really enjoys picking on the other neighbor kids. I’m one of the kids he picks on. Usually, I just go hide when he comes out to play. He’s mean, very very mean.
Timmy never gives a break to any of the kids around here. The first time he came out to play I was asleep, but I heard about everything. He started throwing rocks at the other kids; Not little pebbles, these were sharp rocks. They hurt! Several kids went home bleeding and crying when their parents came out but Timmy hid. I was awake by then but I just shrugged. I didn’t know what they were talking about because I wasn’t around. When they asked, I just said I didn’t do it because I didn’t.
Then, just the other day, Timmy played a practical joke on one of the kids. He lit a paper bag on fire that had dog poop in it. I was around for that one. I watched as a kid tried to stomp it out and then his leg caught on fire. Timmy laughed as the fire burned up the kid’s leg and into his sweater. One of the teachers grabbed the kid and rolled him around on the ground. The poor kid was in too much shock to tell the teacher what happened and to this day still hasn’t. Timmy got away with that one.
He won’t get away with it forever. One day I’ll tell on him, one day. There have been other times that Timmy hurt the other kids. He likes to throw things at them and knock them out. Sometimes he even hits him in the face or in the groin but no one will tell on him because they’re too scared of him. But I hear the rumors. I hear they’re more frightened of Timmy’s dad than anything. When Timmy’s dad comes out, they all go running and Timmy hides. I heard his dad yell at him a lot. I hate it when he does that because Timmy’s dad is violent. Really violent.
When Timmy gets yelled at he cuts himself, and it hurts. He cuts me, too. He gets out the razor blades and starts to cut slowly into my arms. I cry out and I asked him to stop but he never does. Sometimes he even goes deeper when I cry until I pass out then when I awake there’s blood everywhere, but by that time it has already dried up and it hurts so bad. I wash it up so no one will see, but it’s there the hot burning pain of slashed flesh reminds me that Timmy can come out to play any time he wants. I tried to tell my mother about that bully but she didn’t believe me.
I just walk right past me and other kids, and when they do I can hear Timmy laughing like he’s right there next to me. He laughs and I cry out loud. I go to my room I fall asleep but I when I wake up, I know that Timmy has been around because my room is such a big mess in the morning. My clothes will be tossed around everywhere and when my mom goes into the room she scolds me from making such a mess and Timmy just laughs at me.
When I get too upset, his dad gets mad and starts hurting Timmy. He hurts him bad, really bad and sometimes I can feel it when I sleep. I can feel my head hitting the wall or the burning as a stove fire burns my arm. I have so many marks from Timmy and his dad fighting.
Please, I beg, just let me just shrink up into a ball and cry while it’s happening I really don’t know what to do. I’m trapped when I fight. I’m stuck in a dirty little hole just watching as they abuse each other and me, then when Timmy can’t take any more he cries and whines. His screeching in my head is almost unbearable. I shut my eyes closed until the tears come while he cries and his dad swears at him. He curses and calls him horrible, awful names until Timmy just falls asleep and then goes quiet for a short time.
Nothing happens then until Timmy’s dad comes back around and that is when the real horror begins. When his dad comes out, I hide deeper inside. He’s evil. Horrible. I tried to stay awake once to see what happens but it’s frightening to watch. One time, while Timmy hid deep inside the crevice of my mind, he came out and we walked over to the neighbor’s house. I watched as he broke into the house. The neighbor had been had so mean to Timmy that day and even though his dad is really mean to him, he protects him.
This neighbor yelled at Timmy and slapped him. When Timmy told his
dad, his dad called him a few names and used it to take revenge. This is
from the horror begins. I watched in silence as he’d broken in the neighbor’s
house and quietly tied the neighbor up as he slept he then put a pillow over his
face as a man glared at us he would try to get out of it but Timmy’s dad is
extremely strong and held the pillow over the guy’s head. as he kicked and
tried to get the cords off his wrist loose I cried while the life drained
from man’s eyes, my tears were hot but I couldn’t feel them.
Timmy’s dad felt them and he scolded me not to be such a big baby. Then the wife came in and before she could scream in horror Timmy’s dad punched her so hard that she passed out.
He seemed to almost feel sorry for her but then beat her until she no longer
breathed. That was the last time I watched Timmy’s dad do anything horrible. When he comes out I hide and pretend I’m asleep. I don’t want to see the horror. I don’t want to watch the death around me. Wait…shh..I hear someone coming.
“Are you ready to play again?”
The pink hue of the sunset on the horizon reminded Joey of the cotton candy his father bought him at the fair. Those were the days, when he didn’t have a care in the world except if he would have to decide between the blueberry or strawberry of melted sugar streamed around a cardboard tube. Timmy, Joey, and their parents loved the fair back then. They were happier days. This was before those horrible little spiders.
Joey rocked himself back and forth with his arms holding his knees up to his cheat as he tapped the back of his head against the wall. He watched the sunset fade through the dirty glass of the tinted window as the memories of the last night fair he ever attended flooded his thoughts.
He knew he was safe behind these walls which is why he never left, but then on nights like these, he didn’t know what to do. On Nights like these, when he was so tired from staying up for days at a time, he would finally sleep. When he slept, the dreams of his demented father and brother haunted him along with the little spiders that took his freedom away.
As he watched the dusk turn into night, he heard the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. The sounds of life in Sandcastle faded off into the fog as it rolled in and covered the streets. Joey’s eyelids grew heavy in the dark until finally, he dropped into a deep sleep.
”Oh Joey, wake up!” a boy’s voice crackled into the night.
”Shut up, you’ll wake him!” a disembodied man’s voice bellowed from the same room from where Joey slept. He’s been pushing us off for years with those meds and we finally have him down.
Joey shuffled in his sleep with his mouth wide open and drool pooling into a puddle beneath his lips. As he absently started to wipe the drool from his chin in his sleep, two clouds of white fog blew from his lips and into the room beside the bed. Joey stirred for a moment, coughing from the wetness of the fog then mumbled something like, “Please don’t hurt them.”
A giggle came from the smaller ball of white fog as it began to stretch into a longer shape, whipping around in the air.
”Not yet!” the other ball demanded in a deep voice. You’ll fuck this up like always.”
”What’s wrong, dad? No cigarette to burn my non-existent body with?”
”Just wait you little shit. We’ll be in human form soon enough.”
Joey stirred in his sleep again, this time starting to whimper.
”If I didn’t think he’d take me with him, I’d kill that fucking kid.” the man said in a voice that made the wall shake.
Both clouds slipped underneath the door and obtained full human form on the other side. The larger cloud, now a muscular man of about 6’2” with tattoos depicting horror scenes from one movie or another stretched and groaned like he’d been asleep for hours. The other cloud formed into a shorter teen boy with a similar build but with cropped hair. Obviously related, the man slapped the kid on the back. ”Indeed,” he let out a laugh and stretched his arms again. “I forgot what it was like to feel real air on my skin, boy!”
”What the hell is going on, pop?” the boy said as he mimicked his father’s stretch.
”I don’t know, kid, but in this fucked up world of your brother’s imagination, anything is possible.”
”I’m so confused. One second I’m attacked by little spiders then my skin is burning and now I’m walking down the hall of…what the hell is this place?”
”God Timmy, do I have to spell everything out to you? This was always your problem. You’re too damn stupid to be alone. See, Joey has it right. He was never stupid and that is why you ended up dead and not him.”
Timmy looked up at his dad, tears burning in his eyes. “What did you say?”
”What did ya think happened all of those years ago, Tim?”
”I…I don’t know? I woke up and I was trapped in his head like a lab rat making him do funny stuff to other kids.”
Timmy’s dad stopped in front of him and put his hands roughly on his shoulders then looked him square in the eyes. “Your brother, the little shit, murdered us. You were taken to that lab after the spiders infected you with whatever that vemon was and you changed boy. You don’t remember anything? Setting the house on fire and your brother running like a bitch instead of saving his own family?”
The feeling of hot fire began to burn up Timmy’s arms. He looked down at his hands as the fingers burst into flames and his arms turned an ash gray. He remembered pressing the coal into Timmy’s arm just like he and his dad did for years but the smell of lighter fluid burst into his face along with the flames from his smoldering cigarette. “Help me, dad!” Hot tears fell on his cheeks as he cried.
”Oh knock it off, would you? You can control it now, dumbshit. Why can’t you be smart like your brother?”
Timmy closed his eyes and thought about the cool waters of Sandcastle Beach as the flames fizzled off of his fingers. ”Holy shit, it works!”
“You just learn how to control it and we’ll figure out the rest. That boy needs a beating but so does this stupid town for allowing it to happen. That Sheriff needs his ass kicked more than anything,” Tyler Statton said as he punched the wall.
Someone punched back on the other side.
”Let’s test this, boy,” Tyler groaned as he turned into a puff of smoke and Timmy followed, both moving under the crack of the door and into the small white room.
Lying on the bed was a big man, taller and larger than Tyler at least from what they could see. He was in a white straight jacket that wrapped around his arms and torso while his legs were cuffed to the bed. At the crown of his head was his hair matted in what looked like blood next to a red smudge on the wall.
“Ross, you old goat, what got you in here?” Tyler snorted out a laugh and unbuckled the shackles around the man’s ankles.
”You’re dead, man! You and the shit kid of yours next to you. Nurse! What kind of drugs are you fucking me up with tonight?” Ross yelled.
”Want to get out of here?” Tyler nodded toward the door.
”I s’pose if you can unhook my ankles then you can unbuckle this stupid straight jacket.”
”How did you end up in here, man? You’re in a mental ward. You used to be so cool.”
Ross rolled his eyes and shrugged. “I suppose they’ll just think I’m talking to myself anyway. I might as well tell you. A lot has changed since you died, old pal. Really weird shit, more than normal. Some strange guy with this hot chick moved up to the Miller place then Judy’s mom died and she disappeared then her house was sold to some demon.”
”Demon? Really?” the boy standing in the corner laughed.
”Yeah, demon. Just like you guys or maybe you’re ghosts or whatever. Lots of fucked up stuff going on around here. I watched that demon and that butcher’s dead daughter murder her dad right in the Paulson house while I was working for the dude. I was his driver and when I started talkin about what happened and demanding people listen they locked me up in here, drug me every night, and put me in a straight jacket when I try to get out or misbehave. I guess they can’t handle me. Sometimes I get the padded room. It ain’t so bad in there though. At least I’m not tied up like a dog or worried about that demon man coming after me.”
”Tonight’s your lucky night, Ross. I’m going to get you out of here and you’re going to do me a little favor a few rooms down then we can all go escape.”
”What’cha need, boss?” Ross understood the chain of command in the old gang. Tyler Statton was no one to cross. Ever.
”You know my boy’s in here, right?” Tyler said as he unbuckled the straight jacket the rest of the way. “Hey, isn’t there supposed to be a lock on this? Anyway, I want him dead.”
”That’s rude, Tyler man. I ain’t killing your kid,” Ross as he moved back, waiting for some fist to come flying into his jaw.
”If you don’t, I’ll make your life a living hell in here. Still doing them drugs?” Tyler looked down at Ross’s toes. White liquid began seeping through new, infected holes between his toes. It burned but the feeling of intense pleasure rooted itself in his head.
”No, no man. I haven’t done that in so long. I can’t shoot up in here. Got it?” Ross laid back as the drug began to flow through his veins.
“I’ll keep you addicted for so long you’ll want it to kill you, man. I’ll burn you up, too!” A small flame erupted on Ross’s feet and he screamed.
”OK OK I’ll do whatever you say. Make it stop! Please just make it all stop!”
”If you don’t do it, Ross, I’ll keep you in burning hell forever so doped half the time and in pain, you’ll need your drugs the rest of the time. You won’t know one day from the next and I’ll make sure they keep you alive and you never die.”
”Shit! I’ll do it, get it off me!” Ross slapped at the burning flames on his hands and feet.
The smell of burning flesh evaporated with the flames and the holes between Ross’s toes closed up. “You got all these powers, why don’t you do kill the boy?”
”It’s called control, fuck up. They catch me, I don’t know what will happen. Maybe I’ll end up in Hell this time. They catch you and you get the chair or here in California probably sit on Death Row for 30 years. Maybe they’ll fill you up with so many drugs you’ll be a vegetable. So be careful. Don’t get caught. You do it right, I can use you for other jobs because you and I, we’ll be free from hell.”
Tyler released the rest of the straight jacket and Ross shook his arms and rubbed them vigorously. “That thing kind of numbs you, you know? I had been in it for hours. They’re not supposed to use them now except when they think you’re going to hurt yourself getting out of the wrist straps, but that dumb bitch of a so-called nurse got mad when I grabbed her ass. I couldn’t help it, she was putting it in my face when shooting me up with whatever drug cocktail of the day they use. She’s evil and no one cares she puts that on me. No one. The State will. Just wait until I complain about that old bitch.”
”Yeah, yeah. You’re in here because you fucked up. Can’t keep those hands off of women. Do what I say and you’ll have all the bitches and whores you want.”
”Now we’re talkin’” Ross said as he wobbled on his stiff legs, stretching them in one direction or another.
The two ghostly visitors slipped under the door as Ross watched in amazement. Tyler floated to one of the sleeping guards and took his human form before removing the keys off of the silver heavy duty bolt snap buckle. He closed his eyes and tried to morph into the mist, but after a few tries realized it was the keys stopping him. “Better practice that tomorrow,” he mumbled under his breath and walked back to the door.
The bolt clicked open and the door swung wide open when Ross walked out of his cell.
”You better shut up or you’re going right back in. Hold these,” Tyler shoved the keys into Ross’s hand and changed back into a puff of air.
”You have to teach me that,” Ross said and headed off toward Joey’s room.
***
After trying about 10 keys, Ross finally heard the lock on the door click. He quietly stepped inside and realized there was nothing to hit this boy with. He studied the boy’s face for a moment. The last time he saw Joey, the boy was shooting basketball hoops by himself out on the grounds. No one liked the kid, really. He refused to follow that strange blind guy everyone kneels to but neither did Ross. Maybe the kid wasn’t so bad.
“Shit, I dunno, Tyler. He’s just a kid.”
His toes began to ache again and the need for heroin returned. Sweat beaded across his brow and his stomach cramped with need. “Damn it, I’ll do it!” Ross doubled up his fists above his head, ready to slam them down on the kid’s forehead when suddenly he heard a low growl from the corner of the room.
He turned around too quickly for his big body to balance and stumbled down to his knees to the ground. The gnashing of teeth tore at his skin, taking chunks out one snarl at a time.
“What the fuck?” Ross cried out.
The biting subsided but the low growl continued as something invisible and heavily stood over him, pinning him down with what felt like large, padded paws. Drool dripped into his mouth and on his cheeks.
Joey suddenly sat up, screaming something about a wolf. Nurses and doctors came running into the room to find Ross on the floor, shielding his face from nothing except for the bloodied scratches and bite marks up and down his arms. They rolled Ross onto his stomach and restrained him with zip ties, calling for a wheelchair to take him to a medic.
”What happened, Joey?” a nurse sat next to the boy and took his hand.
Joey’s face contorted into a smirk much like the one his dad made all of the years when picking up on women. “I’m not sure, baby, but why don’t we find out together?”
With a bit of disgust, the nurse stood up and looked down at the boy. “Don’t speak to me that way, Joey.”
”Joey? Joey’s my snot-nosed kid,” he said, slapping her on the ass.
***
Inside his head, Joey found the dark corner he frequented away from his cruel brother and father. He had no idea what kind of abuse they would come up with now, but this time he had a protector, a wolf, and no one was ever going to hurt him again.
Come with me and join the world of Sandcastle. Tonight’s episode on Spooky Boo’s Creepypasta and True Scary Stories podcast is a trilogy of short stories written by Spooky Boo about a devious gypsy who sells unusual Halloween costumes to unsuspecting customers. Little do they know their costumes are made out of special material that he crafted himself out of rare skin. Yes, rare skin indeed! Listen to The Halloween Costume Tailor Trilogy.
This Saturday the 16th of October at 9 PM Pacific on YouTube and at 10:00 PM on KOFY TV 20 in the San Francisco Bay Area I will a guest on my favorite show Creature Features. As such the YouTube Live show will be a premiere instead of live on that night so I can be ready for the show. Find out where you can see this fun event at www.creaturefeatures.tv.
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Enjoy tonight’s episode!
Trent couldn’t believe his eyes. He shut them, rubbed them, and then looked again. Lying right there in the middle of Moon Rock, a giant rock structure that sat right outside in the ocean to the west of Sandcastle, was a woman. A possibly naked woman. It looked as though she was bathing in the small pool of water that slowly evaporated when the tide was low and left a lot of beautiful seashells of creatures that washed in with the tide and got stuck there.
He readjusted his cap to protect his eyes from the light of the sun and headed the way of the rock. Most of the time people didn’t bother trying to climb the rock. For one, it was a dangerous climb, and then if you got stuck on the rock and the tide came in you could get swept out to sea. Of course, there was always the shortcut to the top of the rock, but no one ever dared use it after a group of kids got trapped inside the natural tunnel and drowned.
Trent didn’t care. He knew that after the high tide the night before, it would be low for the next few days. As a surfer, he followed the moon calendar so he could ride the waves or go surf fishing when the tide was low, which he had planned to do today until he noticed the naked woman on top of Moon Rock.
Standing by the trunk of his car, he changed into his wetsuit but left his board and fishing rod. He grabbed his underwater camera and headed off down the parking lot and down the trail on the side of the cliff. This area was a little cove off the main beach of Sandcastle. The State of California called it Ice Beach because of the endless amount of icicle plants that lined the hills but the residents called it Hunter’s Beach because of the great Moon Rock where hunters of sharks and fish would sit for days waiting for their prey.
He tiptoed into the cold surf then dog paddled to the side of the giant rock until he reached the point where the tunnel began. An almost immediate cold water pressure headache pierced his brain as he dove in and descended as quickly as he could swim to the opening of the tunnel. He turned on his underwater flashlight and swam inside. As he began to swim upward, something grabbed onto his foot. Thinking it might be a tangle of seaweed, he kicked at it and looked down because whatever his foot met with didn’t feel like the slimy texture of seaweed.
Puzzled, he stared at the face of a woman with blood pooling from her nose. She screamed something at him and then squeezed her nose shut while turning in the other direction. About out of breath, Trent figured he could go up for air and come back down but as he met the top of the water for a quick breath and looked down, she was gone. He shook his head thinking it might have been just an illusion caused by the lack of air in his brain and began to climb the inside of the big rock.
He grasped the edge of each protruding rock, praying that his grip would hold as he stepped onto the next step. He was never comfortable doing this as he knew a boy who broke his neck climbing this same structure. It was off-limits to the public for good reason, but he had to know more about this woman sitting on Moon Rock so he continued his climb. On the last step he grasped onto the rock on the top but it was covered in moss and sea slime. As he tried to firm his grip, his fingers slid. A million thoughts slipped into his mind and he felt himself fall backward knowing he would die on his way down or drown after breaking a limb but then, out of nowhere, a firm hand grasped his wrist and pulled him up out of the hole with amazing strength.
Trent forced his eyes open while trying to catch his breath he held for the scream that waited for the fateful fall. When he opened them, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen stood before him. With the sun glowing on her white skin, it looked almost translucent and grey. She stood there staring at him with her breasts covered in purple Gorgonian sea coral and a string of pearls attached to larger sea fans covering her lower extremities. She was, in all meaning of the word, perfect.
“Thank you,” he managed to say between breaths.
She just smiled and continued to lay back down in the sun. She wasn’t in the water pool as he thought she was. She picked a spot right outside of the natural pool and basked in the heat. The wind picked up and released her long white hair as it flowed around her body. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her.
“I’m Trent,” he said as he sat down in the spot next to her. “What’s your name?”
She turned her head and looked at him. Her irises were white like pearls and without the almost lavender edge of the circle they would almost blend in with the whites of her eyes. He stared, mesmerized by her beauty, and then noticed under each breast she had three cuts along her ribcage on either side. He reached over to touch one and she slapped his hand away.
“Are you ok? Does it hurt?”
The woman laughed with a strange cackle and with every breath, the six lines in her flesh opened and closed like little mouths. She rolled over closer to him, running her fingers along his wetsuit looking more confused than he did.
“Ah, the wetsuit. You haven’t seen one before?” he said as he pulled down the zipper and peeled the rubber from his torso.
The woman jumped back a little then pressed her hand on his warm skin feeling his heartbeat. She then pulled the wetsuit off of his arms and upper body marveling at his chest and arms. He smiled when she pressed her lips on his neck and pulled back.
“Wait a minute. I don’t even know you, shouldn’t we at least know a little about each other first?” he laughed.
The woman rolled her eyes at him and seemed to pout, although he could barely tell with her full lips. She held up a finger and pointed at the water then shook her head no. With sad eyes, she looked down at her legs and feet then shrugged.
“You’re beautiful,” Trent said, pulling her up close to him. “There’s nothing wrong with your legs. And I love your clothes, they look like they’re almost made out of coral.”
“Ow!” he said, pulling back. Trent looked down and noticed new scratches across his chest that were beginning to ooze a little bit of blood. “Is your suit really made out of coral?”
As he examined the crustaceans lying across the woman’s breast, he noticed they were moving with her every move. He touched one, pulling on it just a little and she let out a small squeal of pain. When he pulled the shell off she cried out as it pulled off a little bit of her skin.
“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he said, shocked.
The woman shook her head in seeming disappointment and grabbed the coral from his hand then reattached it to her suit. It latched right back on and became a part of her breast once again. She inched closer to him as he slowly backed away but before he could protest, she sat on top of his hips and kissed him deeply.
Trent felt her tongue probe into his mouth and coughed at the foul taste of the ocean and stale fish. He pushed her off of his body sending her into the pool of water next to them then watched as her body began to shudder. Gray scales appeared on her perfect skin and over her parted legs that now seemed stitched together. Her feet flared out into a large, green feathery fin similar to the tail of a male betta tank fish.
Seemingly angry and even through the scales, still full of beauty, she pushed herself up with two strong arms and hissed at him. Trent crawled backward on all fours staring at her mouth filled with jagged teeth.
“What the fuck are you?” he screamed out, half aroused yet trembling in fear. He had a choice, to either jump off the edge into the shallow water where he might break a leg or his neck or run for the tunnel and pray he didn’t fall. He chose the latter. With his wetsuit hanging off of his torso, he ran for the tunnel but was flung back when she grabbed onto the swinging rubber arm and pulled.
He stumbled backward and fell next to the woman. She held her finger up to his lips and made a hush sound. She licked the wounds on his chest then looked at him with big, sad eyes. Shaking her head, she dove back into the ocean where he watched her swim away.
Later that night, after sitting on Moon Rock for hours too scared to even move, Trent made it home to his beach house. Since he was a lifeguard on the beach, he owned one of the only homes allowed down at the water level. It was more of a shack than anything as it could be destroyed at any time if they ever had a tsunami caused by a large earthquake, which, surprisingly has never happened. The high tide just barely reached the bottom of the shack due to its stilts buried deep into the sand but on most nights, it was safe.
Trent collapsed on his bed after tossing his wetsuit into the bathroom. He still wasn’t sure if it wasn’t a dream he had while sitting on the rock. Perhaps he had fallen asleep in the sun after the long climb in the tunnel to the top of Moon Rock. But then the scratches were still there and now they were hurting more than before. He squeezed at the scabs releasing some water, pus, and blood.
“Yuck,” he said as he got up and made it to the bathroom. The first aid kit was hanging right where it should be. As a lifeguard, he knew to make everything easily accessible in case of an emergency which this moment he considered high on his list of disasters. He held the urge to scream as he dabbed the alcohol and then peroxide along the oozing wound. Then he applied antibiotic ointment and covered the scratches with a large piece of adhesive and gauze.
As Trent hadn’t eaten for hours since his light breakfast of Cornflakes, he was starving. He absently called up his favorite Mexican place where Petra answered.
“Hey Trent, what can I get for you?”
“What are you freaking psychic, Petra?”
“No, I just know your number you order so much food. Is it the usual tonight? Carne Asada with a huge super burrito?”
A little shocked at himself, Trent declined the offer. “No, no. I’m craving something different tonight, Petra. How about a double order of fish tacos and shrimp quesadillas? With a pitcher of margaritas?”
“Hot date tonight?” she laughed into the phone.
“No, I’m just really hungry. Unless you’d like to have dinner with me?” Not only was Trent extremely hungry, but his hormones were off the charts. Petra wasn’t really his type but after what he dreamed about earlier he seriously thought about changing his love of blondes.
“Oh Trent, you know my husband wouldn’t like me dating some hot young stud half my age, right? We’ll have it ready for you soon. Say half an hour?”
“That would be great. You’re wonderful, Petra. Put it on the city’s tab, would you?”
“Of course,” she said and hung up.
30 minutes later, while Trent waited for his food, he also wondered why he felt so ill. How anyone could feel so hungry and yet ache so bad in the gut baffled him. He figured it was just because of how hungry he was. His vision had blurred as well. Everything looked fuzzy around him. Perhaps there was some kind of toxin in whatever had scratched him. He went back into the bathroom and removed the homemade patch from his wound. It looked like it was healing faster than he predicted but wait, no! Upon a closer look, the scab looked like scales.
He peeled off a piece of the scab and inspected it with his blurred vision. It was gray and green with a bit of iridescence. He began to peel another one off, but this one was attached better to his skin than the last. With a grunt of pain, he yanked off the strange scab and held it up to the light. Fresh blood dripped from the part of the scale that was in the wound and it too looked like a large scale from a fish.
The scrapes all had these strange scale patterns around them. Could some kind of a strange creature be growing inside of the wound? As he picked at the rest of the scales, the pain became greater and bloodier. The crimson liquid dripped from the freshly opened wound, pooling on the ground between his feet into a small puddle of ocean water that dripped from his wetsuit. As he accidentally stepped in it, the liquid absorbed into a scrape he got on his big toe that happened climbing the tunnel. He felt a tingle up from his toes and throughout his leg and ultimately into his spinal cord and brain.
Trent screamed in pain as sprouts of scales began covering his backside, forcing their way through the veins around the spinal cord through the skin. As though someone drug a piece of glass under his pecks, he watched as three jagged slices appeared simultaneously under each side of his ribcage. Looking down in horror at his transforming body, he watched as scales popped out of places they didn’t belong.
He tried to take a step out of the bathroom but realized that his legs had fused together when he touched the water dripping from the wetsuit. Trent fell forward to the ground, crying out in pain as his face thudded against the floor. He tried to wiggle his toes and move his legs but they didn’t work as they once did. Instead, he pulled himself to his bed in the middle of the shack, hoping it was either all a very bad dream or that the lack of water would turn him back to some form of human.
With his strong arms built from lifeguard swimming exercises, he pulled himself into the bed and covered his legs with the blankets. Moments later as he dozed off, there was a knock at the door.
“Shit, the food!” he yelled and peered under the blanket noticing that his legs hadn’t changed back yet.
“Are you okay in there, Trent?” Petra knocked again.
“Yeah, come on in, the door is open,” he said as his stomach growled in pain.
Petra walked in and put the bag of tacos next to his bedside. “You look like shit, Trent. You’re green and God, your skin. What happened?”
“I’m just not feeling well, Petra. I think I’m coming down with something,” he said as he grabbed one of the tacos from the bag. Opening his mouth as wide as he could, he pushed the whole taco inside when he heard Petra scream.
“Your…your teeth,” Petra managed to let out as she began to walk backward toward the door.
Not able to stand up, Trent fell out of bed and began pulling himself on two arms toward the woman. She stared at him as the sheet fell from his waist, exposing a long fish-like tail with fins. Her fingers fumbled with the doorknob but it was covered in some kind of slimy film. The moment she was able to grasp the knob and turn it, it was too late. Blood squirted from her calf as Trent bit into her leg with rows of sharp, jagged teeth. Petra fell to the ground and kicked at the thing crawling toward her.
He tore into the muscle on her leg, ripping it to shreds while shaking his head like a shark. Blood splattered on his face and torso as he continued to gnaw on her thigh and hitting the femoral artery. When the rush of blood gushed into his mouth, he cried as he pulled himself away from her shaking body. She stared numbly at the wall as her life soaked into his shag rug.
Her body bounced as someone tried to push open the door behind Petra. Frozen in fear of who might have heard her scream, Trent didn’t move except to feel his face. He knew he was busted feeling the sticky warmth of human blood on his cheeks, chin, and inhuman teeth. Her body bounced once again then fell over to the right. In burst the strange woman from Moon Rock, walking on two human legs.
“You’re a very bad man!” she scolded Trent in what sounded like shrieks and whistles, but he could strangely understand everything she said.
“What are you?”
“I’m what you men call a mermaid. I was stupid for going on that rock, but I too was once human and miss the warmth of the sun basking on my legs and body. Come with me or you will die here.”
She picked him up with her inhuman strength and carried him to the beach as she walked into the water, she dropped him in. He watched as her legs transformed again and soon became one long fishtail like his. He wiggled his tail and began to swim after her and grabbed her when he caught up. At first, he wanted to strangle the mermaid for what she did to him, but her beautiful eyes under the water called to him.
Together they swam to the depths of the ocean.
What is it about scary stories about creepy crawly monsters that makes your skin crawl? For many, it is the idea that something rather frightening might just crawl into your nose or mouth or even worse, under your skin! The idea that a monster made of garbage can invade your brain by crawling up your nose or a spider bite can manifest into an oozing blister that eats away at your skin and muscle gives many people the creeps.
The first available trilogy from Sandcastle, California is about these creepy, crawly monsters. These three stories may keep you up at night if you ever think about something crawling around between your sheets while you sleep!
These scary stories are available on both Amazon as a Kindle format or on the Scary Story Time podcast on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or iHeartRadio and many other popular podcasts.
Scary Story Time Volume One: Creepy Crawlies includes 3 disturbing stories that you might want to avoid reading before you clean out that garbage disposal or buy a unique item from your local thrift store.
A group of boys playing baseball accidentally break a window to what seems to be an abandoned trailer sitting by the ballpark. They convince one of the friends to go inside and retrieve the ball even if the owner screams at him, but what he comes out with is far worse than any bruised ego. They all go home and after his mother notices a few blisters that resemble pox marks she has a chickenpox party with the boys. What comes next is the unthinkable and horrifically devastating ending to a fun pizza party.
Do you know what the slimey goo is sitting inside of your kitchen pipes? The owner of this home really wanted to know for it seemed to be alive and growing. Despite the constant plumbing problems that no one could ever fix in her home, she takes on the sludge in the kitchen sink only to realize that maybe it’s not just garbage, but maybe it’s alive and very hungry!
Have you ever been to a thrift shop where an item speaks to you and you must buy it? This shopper did. He could hear it speaking to him from the street! He had to have the unusual and very old cat’s paw keychain that beckoned him, but at what cost? Only a few dollars or his very soul?
This first set of stories is perfect for any adult or even teens if you allow your kids to read scary stories!
She loved him from the first day she first saw him on the beach and told her mother that she was going to marry him. Her mother, taken in by the love her daughter displayed for the boy and as with tradition, took him in as family and for the next 10 years or so planned the marriage to come. It wasn’t until the wedding night the couple knew the chilling meaning of their vows.
David Kempf
5.0 out of 5 stars Like a Cronenberg Film
Reviewed in the United States on August 9, 2023
Verified Purchase on Amazon
Boo Rhodes’s short story Matrimonial Instincts is like experiencing a David Cronenberg movie in one sitting. Disturbing, observant, wicked, and very fast-paced, this was a darkly entertaining story. Poe once observed that when a story can be read in one sitting the spell cannot be broken on the reader with interruptions. This is the advantage good short stories have over novels and this is a good example of this effect. As a huge fan of H. R. Giger and David Cronenberg–I loved the body horror imagery Rhodes uses. So the story is like a Cronenberg film in themes but even more like a very entertaining horror tale with a great twist. And the ending will haunt you long after you’ve read it!
Ward Hamilton from Spreaker.com
Wow, incredible detail and had me to the end Spooky Boo 🙂👏👏👏
Available on KindleUnlimited or on the Horror Stories of Sandcastle Podcast.
Listen on Spreaker
He’s a traveling gypsy who makes lifelike costumes with a few tricks up his sleeve. No one knows how he does it, but when they find out, it’s too late!
Welcome to Scary Story Time. In this episode, we take you to the dark place in the mind of a traveling Halloween store owner. His costumes are pretty normal–and very scary! You’ll find vampires, werewolves, witches, ghosts, and even fae in his large assortment of wonderful Halloween costumes. You’ll also find see the dark side of his business.
Be sure to check out my website at www.scarystorytime.com to find out more about the little mystical town of Sandcastle and its inhabitants.
But first, I’d like to invite you to watch Creature Features with my friends and I on Saturday nights at 10:00 PM, Pacific time. You can watch it on KOFY TV20 and other tv channels, but we have a little chat group where we chat about the movie and guests every Saturday night on YouTube. Get the web link at www.creaturefeatures.tv.
Now let’s begin.
A Horror Story by Spooky Boo Rhodes
~~~ 1 ~~~
It was your typical October morning in Sandcastle. The fog and clouds were still blanketing most of the bay area and probably wouldn’t roll back to the ocean until around noon, if at all. Cyrus Vanslow traveled to Sandcastle from New York state every year two weeks before Halloween. Each day he stopped in a large city with his little traveling caravan of gypsies until the two weeks before Halloween where he and his crew of carnies set up camp on the hillside above the beach before the big Halloween ball at the Miller house every year.
He hadn’t planned on arriving so late this year, but his latest costume was a bit of a problem getting all of the pieces collected. He had to stop in Siesta, a small town just at the foothills of the Sierras to make sure the parts in his new collection were still intact. He told the caravan to go on without him and when he stopped to get a bite to eat before heading west to the California coastline, he knew right away what the problem was. The temperature on one of the freezers in the back of his cargo truck wasn’t freezing anymore.
He immediately smelled the sweetness of hot rotting meat when he opened the side door to the back of his rig. He grimaced as the stench wafted up to his nostrils. Such a waste of human life disturbed him. He didn’t do what he did to mercilessly kill people, that would be wrong. He did it for the cause. Each victim was preselected from a survey taken off the internet. His selection had to be perfect from size to looks. Now he’ll have to improvise and either find another person from the candidates in the area or create a whole new persona.
Cyrus shut the door to the truck and went into the little cafe with his laptop in hand. He scoped out the dining room, happy that he didn’t see very many people even at noon. He looked at the counter and noticed the handwritten sign pointing to the rows of empty tables. SEAT YOURSELF it read in all caps. He shrugged and found a table near the window where he could keep an eye on his truck. The smell was surely contained within and the human nose might not be able to smell it from the outside, but a K9 could and around here police dogs were pretty popular.
“Do you happen to have wifi, ma’am?” he asked the waitress as she arrived holding a pad of paper and a pen. He thought how she might look really nice as that huge sea witch Ursula in The Little Mermaid with her rather large body frame and tussles of long gray hair. She even had perfect overly painted lavender lips with dark lip liner. Even the mole placement was superb.
“Oh yes, honey. Just look up Katerina diner in your wifi list. It’s free for customers especially you, sugar,” she winked at him. “What will it be? We’re still serving breakfast or we have the regular grill that you’ll find anywhere else right there on the menu.”
“Steak, eggs over easy, and a pot of your best coffee. Thank you, Julia” Cyrus smiled as he looked at her nametag. Her name even sounded like Ursula.
“You got it, sugar!” she smiled and waddled away.
Looking up all of the clothing stores and freezer repair centers in the area from his laptop, he picked out two and called to make sure they had time to look at his equipment. As expected, the repair center had more time on its hand than any other place, probably due to the lack of people in town. Another crumbling small town in America. “What a waste,” Cyrus mumbled.
Julia placed two plates in front of Cyrus along with the pot of coffee and a cup. Then she grabbed the steak sauce and catsup from another empty table and placed it in front of him. “I get out of here in an hour, sugar. Want a tour of the town?”
Cyrus thought for a moment thinking about his plans for the day and then smiled. “How about in two hours? I need to drop my truck off to get something repaired and you can pick me up from the repair spot. I’ll treat you to whatever you like.”
She smiled, and when she did he marveled at her beauty. Although very large, she was gorgeous and perfect for his needs.
2
The old gypsy drove his truck out to the dump and paid the dump fees. A mere $25 would do the trick to get rid of this hunk of meat in his freezer. In his truck, he carried 4 freezers, each containing the props he needed. This was the only one with one body, which was a good thing because with all 4 freezers dying it would have been a disaster for the party in Sandcastle. All of his props needed to be completely frozen when he arrived and stored for a week while he prepared the other details. One simple problem could ruin everything and his reputation.
Before opening the meat locker, he placed an old emergency tarp he carried in the back of his truck just for this purpose. With large yellow rubber gloves, he opened the freezer and hoisted the body on to the tarp. It wasn’t easy dealing with such large prey, but he prided himself on being a very strong man. After rolling up the trash and securing the ends of the tarp, he looked from left to right. When he was sure no one else was around, the bundle was tossed out of the back of the truck.
He watched silently as it tumbled then rolled down the side of the hill. The smell of the dump was even worse than the rotting meat in the back of his truck, but he would soon be rid of that issue as he called the closet hotel he could find where he could rest and take care of the next issue after he hosed out his truck at the local car wash.
Without hesitation, Cyrus jumped back into his vehicle and drove off toward the front gate. He gave the attendant a $100 bill for turning the cameras off and also left a little insurance policy of an extra glove in the guy’s car down at the bottom of the hill, just in case anyone asked questions.
Rolling down the hillside that protected the surrounding cities from the smell of the garbage, he turned on a song by KISS and began humming the tune. He was going to get lucky, very lucky, and then have the perfect specimen for the Halloween party in Sandcastle, California. He heard there was a new resident in town who was very important and he wanted to make sure this resident was pleased with the costumes.
3
In exactly two hours and not a minute later, the gypsy arrived at the appliance store. He took a glance at the shabby man at the counter and realized he could have the perfect costume for Al Franken’s baggage handler in the movie Trading Places. Why the shop forced their employees to wear such drab clothing was beyond his comprehension. Life was supposed to be full of beauty and wearing such gear would put him down in the dumps. Fortunately for Cyrus, he chose to wear his own colorful blend of yellow, black, and purple shades. His mother always told him that people won’t take him seriously if he simply dressed up like a salesman in blue all of the time. Of course, his mother wore her own gypsy flare that could be seen from any space station far above the Earth.
“I just need this freezer fixed to carry the meat to a carnival in the next day or two,” he stated while patting the top of the freezer. The other 3 freezers were locked shut and running fine. Cyrus looked around the back of his truck, amazed at the cleanup job he had done. The smell and mess were gone without a trace of blood or rotting flesh. It took a lot of bleach and elbow grease to clean it up in such a short time, but that is what overly eager teens were good for. They wanted money for the weekend and he gave them a job to do. They’d do just about anything for a Jackson these days, including clean up what he told them was putrid, rotting beef stench.
There were four of the boys scrubbing the freezer and the floor of the truck. it took 6 cases of bleach and a couple of mops to finish the job. Cyrus would have to spend extra time making new costumes for the Halloween party that was only two weeks away, but people were always willing to pay a handsome price at the Miller Mansion for the costumes, and this new costume he was preparing would be no exception! It even fit his oceanside theme this year.
“Just don’t open the other freezers and make sure they are not turned off at any time,” Cyrus commanded as he tossed the keys to the serviceman. “I can’t have any of the meat spoiled and it would ruin me, understand? There will be another tip for you when the job is finished.” he gave a $100 bill to the man, who took it gleefully.
Cyrus dialed the number handed to him by the waitress. “Yeah baby, I’m ready. Come and get me at Joe’s Appliance. Of course, I’d love to see your house,” he smiled.
4
Upon arriving at the home of home Miss Julia Smith, Cyrus reached over and grabbed her pudgy hand that was resting on the gearshift. She smiled at him and winked with those large fake eyelashes and overbearing blue eyeshadow. It had been quite a while since he allowed himself such pleasure, but it wasn’t often that he found a voluptuous woman willing to take a traveler in for an afternoon.
“Tell me this isn’t love,” she said and then laughed. “I’m just kidding, you’re cute and all but I’m not into the relationship thing, you know what I mean?”
“Oh yes, perfect because I can’t stick around. I have a show to do,” he smiled knowing that her decision fell right into his plans. “Is anyone else here?”
“Nope, I live alone. It’s hard to find a good man around here, know what I mean?” she squeezed his hand and leaned over to kiss him.
Cyrus pressed a finger up to her lips and grinned. “All in due time, my dear.”
They both exited the car and scrambled to the door. She fumbled with the keys and when she finally found the right one, she opened the door to the biggest mess he had ever seen. Even his grandmother’s house wasn’t so filthy while she kept her chickens and pet rats running free in the house.
“Sorry about the mess,” she confessed while tossing the dirty clothes out of the walkway and pushing her rather large ass in his face. There was no way in hell he was going to attempt to pleasure himself with this slob. He thought about it for a moment and realized this really was the perfect scenario for his plans. They would be searching for her for weeks as they cleaned the house!
As she led him to the bedroom, he followed pretending to be interested. At first, he was a tiny bit excited, but seeing the box of old pizza on her bed didn’t help the matter. She ignored the old food as she took off her clothes. “Hey, eyes over here,” she pulled his face toward her by his chin. “Don’t worry about that mess over there. Aren’t you going to take your clothes off?”
“I simply want to admire that gorgeous body of yours,” he smiled, carefully grasping the syringe in his pocket. “Turn around, I want to see that beautiful backside.”
She did as he said and then screamed as he plunged the need into her jugular. He clamped his other hand over her mouth until she fell on her bed with a loud thud while breaking the legs on the bed and forcing the pizza box to open, sending old pizza all over her hair and face. He frowned when he realized he would have to clean what looked to be day-old pizza sauce out of her hair.
While cleaning her up with a warm rag, he thought about driving her car over to the shop to get his truck. With the stolen plates, it would be weeks before they tracked down his truck and by then he would be long gone, in a new truck and across the country. It would take them days to gut out her house trying to find her body. He thought hard about this as he hoisted her large body into the bathtub and cut her neck from ear to ear allowing the blood to drain into the sewer as much as possible. Since it was so close to the party, there was no way he had time to properly prepare her as he normally did, but he knew he couldn’t avoid it.
Instead of taking her car, he parked it in the garage and locked both doors. Within moments and a phone call, a cab picked him up down the street where he explained he was trying to find a friend’s house without luck. Cyrus was good at bullshitting, it’s what his family taught him to do.
~~~ 5 ~~~
Upon picking up the truck with the freezer now in perfect condition, Cyrus gave the attendant the extra tip and another to the mechanic. He pulled out and traveled down the road and into a grocery store where he changed his license plates with another car and put some rather large business magnets on the sides of his vehicle that he kept rolled up in the back of his truck in case of this type of emergency. He put on a jacket that covered his obnoxiously yellow and purple shirt and topped his head with a matching baseball hat. After getting back on the road, he smiled at himself. He looked just like the very boring appliance repairman.
Backing the truck into the driveway of Julia’s house he parked as close as he could get to the garage. Cyrus rolled up the back door of his truck and the garage then opened the freezer. He parked so close to the garage that the neighbors wouldn’t see what he unloaded (or loaded) into the house. As far as they were concerned, he was delivering a washing machine.
Removing her from the tub wasn’t as easy as he thought. He hoisted her 400-pound body on to the plastic tarp he brought and had to stop every few minutes to adust her rolls to fit into the corners of the hallway and doors. When he finally reached the garage, he laughed as he pulled her down the stairs. Her fat made this horrible slapping noise with each downward step taken into the garage. He pulled her up the ramp and into the truck where he hoisted her body into the freezer.
“Oh Julia, you beauty. People will talk about you for years! Your life is not wasted, my love.” he said as he shut the freezer door and began to clean up the mess left behind.
~~~ 6 ~~~
About five hours later, Cyrus pulled his large truck and trailer into the driveway of the Miller Mansion looking over the Pacific. People were gathering around and following him as he made his way through town and stopped at the gates to the property. Every year the gypsies brought the best carnival to Sandcastle and there were no known better costumes. It was a century-old tradition and got better every year.
The gypsies, knowing that he was having truck issues, were already set up in the field around the house. The lights from the carnival rides and games littered the green grass on the hilltop surrounding the mansion. He continued driving until he parked in the spot he secured every year. During the next week his assistant Maise, who was already setting up the costume tent, would help him with sales as he put together his most prized possession: Ursula the Sea Witch!
Stay tuned for the continuation of this three-part series of The Halloween Costume Tailor. Next week we’ll find out what exactly Cyrus Vanslow does with his meat freezers and how terrifying the gypsy really is!
Be sure to check out my website where you can listen to other terrifying horror stories about the town of Sandcastle and its strange inhabitants. You’ll learn more about the Lady of the Lake and of the mysterious awakening of the town in this age of sin and evil. Head on over to my website at www.scarystorytime.com and let me know what you think of the series, or leave a comment on Apple Podcasts. You can also leave a message for the show by calling 707-SPOOKYBOO-22 (that is 707-776-6592) or by sending an email to scarystoriesonvideo@gmail.com. You can also send a letter to:
BOO RHODES
39 CALIFORNIA ST. #251
Valley Springs, California 95252
Be sure to check out the band Stay Out on Spotify and Apple Music or at www.officialstayout.com.
That’s all for tonight. I’ll see you in your nightmares.
