Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - Bad Neighbor

Episode Date: October 10, 2022

🎧 Check out The SCP Experience podcast here: https://spoti.fi/3juM1og 🎉 Ad-free bonus stories + exclusive uncensored animations: https://www.patreon.com/drnosleep 🎥 YouTube: https://youtube.com/c/DrNoSleep ✅ Send all advertising inquiries to: [e-mail] Author: Jordan Grupe Check out more of his work here: https://www.reddit.com/user/Jgrupe/ DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content. Parental guidance is advised for children under the age of 18. Listen at your own discretion. #drnosleep #scarystories #horrorstories #doctornosleep #truescarystories #horrorpodcast #horror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Lazang sur-gillet, Puisance-Moyerned 15 minutes. We're like it's the door joe. Vive the pleasure with Leo Jo. The casino in line

that proposes the more recent machine-as-a-sue of casino in direct. Profite of 50 tours on Big Bas Bonanza without exigance of misgis and with

payments instantanate. Hey, I've gained. Woohoo! Scentire the pleasure Play-Ojo 18-10 and plus, 1-Depos only depose only depot only depot

$1% per capita deposit bonanza, depop minimum of 10 dollars. Veye to pay the way responsible. The conditions apply. Before we get into

this next story, I want to think Lou Kang, Juan, and RageFist for joining my Patreon. Your support goes a long way. For all of you

who would like to gain access to my bonus episodes as well, head on over to my Patreon page at patreon.com slash

DR No Sleep. The link is also in the description below. Thanks again. Now time for the story. The air was crisp and cool. A familiar smell of dead leaves and mid-autum decay hitting my nostrils as I stepped outside onto the front porch.

I took a deep breath and let it out, surveying the lawn of the house I had recently purchased. It was early morning, but a few neighbors were already out doing yard work. I waved at the man across the street who had introduced himself a few days prior. Bill waved back, his garden-gloved hand browned with dirt. He was digging in his garden, preparing things for winter. His house was adorned with Halloween decorations. Ghosts hung from the trees. And streamers with dangling orange pumpkins and black paper cats were strung from the leaves.

October 31st was less than a week away, and the whole neighborhood was tastefully decorated for the occasion. Morning, Bill. I called across the narrow cul-de-sac. Morning, Steve. he called back. Beautiful day. His smile made me grin back,

and I felt glad that I had moved into this little village. Branville was like a miniaturized version of a quaint town from an old movie. There were only 800 citizens, and everyone seemed to know each other. The downtown was full of shops, thriving with the business of Branville residents who chose to support each other over Amazon. There was no Walmart or tariff.

within a hundred miles, and despite their efforts, the citizens of Branville intended to keep it that way. It was a place where everyone supported each other, and everyone cared about each other. But there was a dark side to this little town as well, as I would come to find out moments later. I went to my garage to fetch a rake and a yard waste bag, intending to remove all the dead leaves from my lawn, since the old red maple out front had decided to let half of its branches go bare overnight. When I came back outside, I saw a sight that I would never forget. It was the first time I laid eyes on Charlie Munson. The man pulled up directly onto the front lawn of Bill's house.

He veered off the driveway with deliberate carelessness and nearly ran over my neighbor, sending his terrified cat who had been napping on the pavement, scurrying away up a tree. He'd break at the last second, pulling up strips of fresh sod at the process. Bill had just redone his grass that summer. He'd made a point of telling me, and anyone else who would listen. The large man got out of his faded blue truck and slammed the door, marching across the grass towards where Bill was kneeling, just beyond the fender of his vehicle.

He was over six and a half feet tall, and was wearing a dark jacket and a shirt which was halfway unbuttoned, exposing a hairy check. and a heavy-looking round gold medallion, hanging from a chain around his neck. When Bill stood up, I could see he was nervous, not just because he had almost been hit by the man's truck. There was something like terror in his eyes, and I would find out soon why that was. Charlie Munson was the most violent and dangerously unpredictable man in town, the most vile and hated person I would ever come to meet.

His voice was so low I couldn't make out the words. But whatever he said made Bill start jabbering and putting up his hands In the gesture of a man trying to avoid a beating He shoved Bill and the old man toppled over Falling into the dirt of his garden and landing hard on his back The stranger began to laugh at this exposing crooked brown teeth I put down my rake and began to walk over to intervene But Bill noticed this and glanced at me shaking his head

He didn't want my help But why? The man who was accosting him saw me and looked over, a grin stretching across his slimy face. Suddenly whatever he was talking to Bill about was forgotten, and he walked away. He started heading towards me instead. A new peasant for the kingdom. I'm Charlie Munson, he said, sticking out his giant baseball mid-hand. Hi, I said, taken aback by his words.

His hand hung between us, waiting to be shook. When I didn't take it, he simply reached out and grabbed my wrist from where it was hanging at my side. They yanked it towards him so hard it felt like my shoulder was dislocated. He squeezed my hand until it felt like my fingers would snap in half. And yet the smile in his face remained. I tried to remove myself from his grasp, but he kept squeezing harder and harder until my bones began to audibly pop from the pressure. What's your name, friend? he asked with that horrible predatory grin.

Steve, I managed. Steve what? His grip increased even more, and I could tell this man was far stronger than he looked, and he liked to hurt people. Steve, Bancroft, I gasped, and after a few more long seconds, he relented and let go. I looked down to see my entire hand was an angry purpose. purple shade, turning a little more red as the blood returned slowly. Good to meet you, Steve Bancroft.

Welcome to Branville. I've lived here my whole life, but we always try to make newcomers feel welcome. Feel like they're part of the kingdom. The kingdom? I asked, shaking the life back into my hand. That's right. My kingdom. Everybody in my kingdom pays taxes. How much you got on you, Steve? He had to be kidding.

Was he really trying to rob me in broad daylight? Now, don't think you're just giving me the money, he said as if reading my mind. This isn't like that. I provide a valuable service to the people of Branville. What's that? I asked, feeling like I was in a nightmare. Protection. I provide protection to this whole town. like a knight in shining armor.

I'll tell you what, Steve. You just got to town. I'll give you a few days before I collect my fee. You can talk to Bill over there and decide for yourself how much my services are worth to you. How's that sound? He didn't wait for an answer. Just gently slapped my cheek a couple times

like an old man talking to a child. I couldn't help but wins at the first one. Unsure how hard it would be. and that made him grin even wider. I'll be back real soon, Stephen Bancroft. Don't forget to have my money next time. And make sure it's worth my while. You're going to want my protection.

I can guarantee you that. Charlie Munson walked back to his truck and got in, spitting dirt from his tires as he pulled away, painting my neighbor Brown with mud. He cast a few parting words at Bill. then drove off. And that was the first time I met the self-appointed king of Branville, Charlie Munson. But it certainly wouldn't be the last.

I should have warned you about him, Bill said when we were inside his house a few minutes later. He had invited me in for coffee after the fiasco outside. We were in Bill's kitchen, and he was wiping off his mud-splattered face with a wet paper towel. Then he began to prepare a pot of coffee. You deserve to know what's going to be able to. going on. But I was worried if I told you sooner, you just pack up and leave. And like you, Steve, you seem like a good man. And we need folks like you in Brandville to balance out the bad. Okay, I said, still unsure what he was talking about. Can you go into a little more depth, Bill?

I don't get it. Who does that guy think he is? How does he get away with stuff like that? I mean, I don't know about you, but I'm calling the cops as soon as I'm done here. The only reason I haven't done it already is because you told me to wait. So, what am I waiting for? Bill let out a sigh, looking defeated as he poured the off-brand coffee grounds into the filter, then clicked on the machine. Brewing sounds were heard a few moments later, and he motioned for me to follow him to the living room.

Come on, he said. I want to show you something. He took me to his bookshelf in the living room, then pulled out a dusty photo album. Sitting down on the sofa, he patted the cushion next to him, looking up at me and waiting for me to join him. This is a picture of my grandpa, he said, pointing at an out of focus photo in black and white. See that man standing behind him? The tall guy with broad shoulders? I felt winded, as if I'd been punched in the gut.

It took me a few moments to recover my wits to speak. It can't be. It's not possible. How old is this picture? The person in the blurry photograph was familiar. There was no mistaking the massive, hulking shape of the man in it, wearing a black jacket and a half-unbuttoned shirt, a gold pendant hanging from his neck.

It was Charlie Munson. There's no mistake. This photo was taken 60 years ago when I was taken. 10 years old. That's Charlie Munson, looking the same back then as he does today. And you've seen for yourself that nowadays he looks 20 years my younger. My grandpa told his Charlie looked that way for as long as he could remember, for as long as anyone could remember. He flipped to the next page of photos. That's my dad. He owned the general store downtown, saved up all his money and bought it from Dwight Hastings, with some help from family, of course.

But regardless, the place was his, until Charlie Munson did the same thing that he did to Dwight. Started charging him so much for protection that he couldn't afford to stay open anymore. He had to sell the place, and the only one in town with enough cash to buy it was Hugh Munson, Charlie's son. Damn near killed my dad to give a Munson the keys to that place.

is pride and joy. But he did it. We all knew better than to question King Charlie's commands. I was still trying to take all of this in, but I had to ask the next question that came to mind. All right, I'm going to pretend you're not pulling my leg, since I could sense there was something inhumanly awful about that man. I'm not saying I believe all of it, not yet anyways.

But let's say this is all true. Charlie Munson is an ageless demon who never dies. What about his kids? Did they get older? Are they human? Bill flipped the pages again and came to a class photo. He pointed at himself in it and then pointed at several other children who all looked vaguely similar. His kids are human, by all accounts.

Some of them are decent people even. Some of them are devils just like their father, reporting to him everything. that happens around town. Every dirty deed in Branville gets witnessed by his network of child spies, and he uses all of it against us. The worst part of it is he's managed to put some of his older kids into positions of power in town. My heart sank even further. What do you mean? Well, say you decided to call the cops about what happened here today. You'd call 911. And guess he would pick up the phone. Cindy Munson, his daughter.

Jesus? Yep. And let's say you finally did manage to see the sheriff. Can you guess what name you're going to see on his badge? I gulped, already knowing the answer. Munson? He nodded his head. Marshall Munson, his pride and joy.

The man is a spitting image of his father and twice as mean. And that's just for starters. How many of them are there? As I would find out, there were more than a few. And some were nearly as evil as their father. And others were infinitely worse. The next few days were tense. I felt as if Bill had to be exaggerating the situation.

Or maybe he had a few screws loose. But I had no one else to ask for a second opinion. That was, until I met Lucy. She lived several doors down for me and was out with her dog. It was early in the morning and I was out on the front lawn raking leaves again. As she went by the front of the house, she took out her earbuds and smiled at me, wishing me good morning. Hello, I said as warmly as I could.

I was still very tense and unsure of who I could trust. Oh, I know that look, she said. You must have met His Highness. I stuttered something incomprehensible, and she did me a favor by interrupting. It's okay. Everybody looks the same way after they meet him for the first time, and after they hear the stories. It has a lot to take in, I said cautiously. Hey, can I ask you something in confidence about Charlie? She looked grave for a few seconds, and even her dog seemed to tense up at the name.

I felt like I just said Voldemort to Harry Potter. But then she relaxed slightly. Sure. This might sound crazy, but I heard from someone... Well, I heard that he's... Immortal? I nodded my head. Unfortunately, yes.

That does seem to be the case. Has he asked you for protection money yet? Again, I nodded my head, too terrified. to speak. Pay it. Whatever he wants, pay it. With that, she walked away. Her dog sprinted ahead, as if anxious to get away from the conversation and away from the awful name I had mentioned. Right after that, I went to the bank. There were several kids milling around the parking lot when I got out of my car. I walked at the doors of the bank and went inside. Still in disbelief that I was going to take out protection money to pay off an immortal mobster. I withdrew $500, shaking my head the

whole time and feeling as if I were in a bad dream and would surely wake up any second. If it came down to it, I would leave town and move somewhere else, but that would take time. Until then, I had to play ball with Charlie. You kids excited for Halloween? I asked the boys as I walked past them towards my car. It was all I could do to feel normal, and I was determined to try and continue living my life as much as I could, despite what was happening. Yeah, we're going to get so much candy this year. Well, that's a good plan. I'll be giving out Snickers and Reese cups.

If there's any left, the boys laughed, and I started getting into my car. Don't forget my dad's money when you get to the store, Steve. One of the young boys said, and $500 isn't going to cut it. He's gonna cut your fucking heart out if you try to give him that. My hands were shaking as I settled in behind the wheel. My knees buckling and giving out in sudden terror at the boy's words. I turned to look at him, but saw he was already riding off on his bike with his friends. What the fuck was going on in this town?

What had I gotten myself into by moving here? When I got home, I found a message on my door. It was written in blood by the looks of it. and I saw tufts of bloody fur lying around the porch from what appeared to be a dead squirrel. I confirmed this when I found the poor thing's head sitting on my doorstep. The message read this. See you on Halloween for my money. 20K.

Prepare to suffer otherwise. Charlie. Whether it had been written by him or one of his kids, the fact remained the same. He was coming back on Halloween, and he wanted more money than I had. A lot more. I took a picture of the message with my phone before scrubbing it away. Maybe I could send it to the FBI, I thought. Someone had to be willing to do something about this maniac. Going back inside my house, I went to sit down in the living room. I hoped maybe I could make sense of this madness. Maybe there was some way out of it. A few minutes later, a knock came at the time.

the door. Only it wasn't the front door. It came from the back of the house, and I stood up to answer it, feeling nervous. I had never been scared to answer the door before, but now it seemed to bring with it some terrible, unknown element of danger. And even worse, there was no peephole and no way to see who it was. Part of me considered just pretending I wasn't home, but something told me to answer it. It turned out, the person at the back door was one of Charlie's daughters. She had a plan, as it would turn out, a plan that would change the fortunes of the citizens of Branville from that day forward. I need your help, was the first thing she said, her brown eyes looking up at mine hopefully. Not just me, all of us.

Halloween was going to be the big night. As it turned out, Charlie was a lot like a big kid in many ways. He was similar to a schoolyard bully, and that he took from mothers. rather than earning things for himself. He beat up on people, intimidated people, and made them feel little. October 31st was one day when everyone in town knew that Charlie would expect an offering from them. Christmas and Easter were much the same, as was Charlie's birthday, which came in August. This meant that every season of the year, Charlie expected a gift.

And Halloween was meant to be the biggest of them all. No one quite understood why. The entire town through a festival that day as well, and the self-appointed king of Branville would observe the proceedings from his elevated stage platform, where he remained seated on a throne constructed of cornstalks, pumpkins, and sunflowers. People would bring him offerings of money or livestock, or whatever they could afford. As Charlie sat up on the platform, I waited for my turn to be called forward. My legs were nervously shaking up and down, and my fingers tapped on the table.

where I sat. I couldn't stay still. Bill had confirmed that Hilda was one of the few decent months in children, and I had led him in on the plan as she had requested. The two of them sat nearby, and I glanced at them occasionally. There were only a few of us who knew what was going to happen at the festival. We had to keep it to only those who we could trust. Charlie had a way of finding out secrets. Hence the last-minute nature of the plan. Hilda knew if anything was set up ahead of time, Charlie would find out. He could sense when people were plotting against him. He finally came forward and I got up with my Manila envelope in hand. On wobbly legs, I walked past the straw decorated tables towards the stage. The entire town was assembled in the town square,

and everyone was seated around me and watching with bated breath. No one knew how the newcomer to town would respond to the first payment. They had seen others refuse in the past, and it never went well. I climbed the steps and stood before Charlie on his autumn throne. Neil, he said, smiling like a bully between wedgies. No, I told him, and threw the manila envelope on the floor in front of him. There's your money. but I'm not getting down on my fucking knees for you, you piece of shit.

It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, despite the number of people all around. And then Charlie broke the silence by laughing. I let out of breath. You got some guts, new guy, he said. The manila envelope was at his feet. If he stood up and came at me now, the whole plan would be over if he did. But he didn't. Instead, he leaned forward.

to pick up the envelope from the floor, while staying seated on his throne. Two enormous guards flanked him on either side. They were in on our plan. He appeared shocked as they grabbed his arms and pulled them backwards, twisting them behind his back. I rushed forward and grabbed the medallion around Charlie's neck as he fought them. Before I could get the chain from his neck, he threw the men off of him as if they were ants. He stood up from his throne and looked at me, his face red with anger. I took an instinctive step backwards and released the chain around his neck.

I'll deal with you, he said ominously. Then he picked up the first guard by his throat and whispered something in his ear. The man shook his head desperately, but it was no use. He raised him into the air as if he were nothing, and then threw him off the stage. The guard landed on his skull. The sound of it splitting open was horrifying and awful, like a giant ostrichag being cracked. The townspeople rose to their feet in a murmuring mass, climbing the stage as he directed his attention at the other guard.

800 people began to descend on him as he focused his attention on the other guard who had betrayed him. And in that moment, I saw his weakness was his rage. He was so utterly focused on the other guard that he didn't notice the mob closing in on him. The citizens of Branville were finally standing up to their bully. Charlie pulled the guard's arm off, like a bully was. with a Barbie doll. The man screamed as he removed the other arm next, the twisted smile never leaving his face. But then he turned around, surprised, as he saw the swarm of people grabbing a

hold of him. Despite Charlie's incredible strength, he could not hold all of them off. Many people got early blows in, bloodying his face and breaking his teeth, showing everyone that he could be hurt. The bully of Branville didn't take it lying down, though. And several people people were quickly killed as he annihilated them with a single punch. One man died as he squeezed his head between his hands until it exploded. Still, more and more of them came at him until he began to tire. It was an onslaught, a total reckoning of every horrible act, every generational trauma, every crushing blow that Munson had inflicted. All of it was unleashed upon him in the span of a few minutes as the entire town laid a beat down on the village villain. The man refused to die,

but he could certainly feel pain. That much was obvious by his cries of agony and the blood which began to pour from his mouth and nose and from a dozen cuts all over his face. Still, he remained standing, looking defiant. Sticks and stones, you sons of bitches, he muttered, spitting out a broken tooth. By tomorrow morning, I'll be as good as new again. Not without the medallion. His daughter cried out.

That's the source of his power. If we take it from him, he won't be invincible anymore. Charlie's eyes went wide at this, and it was obvious from his expression that it was the truth. The medallion was his strength, but also his weakness. A handful of the strongest men from town began to pull Munson's arms back, twisting them behind him as he fought with every ounce of strength. His face was red from exertion,

as he grunted and strained, trying to buck them off. But there were too many of them. And eventually someone came along and plucked the medallion from Charlie's neck as he snapped like a dog with his teeth, trying to bite the hand reaching for it. I saw it was Bill, my neighbor, who managed to grasp it in his hands as the color drained from Charlie's face. You don't know what you're doing? Munson screamed.

I protect you. I protect all of you. It was amazing how deep his delusions went. I thought, as I watched him cry out in anger over and over again. He actually seemed to believe his own lies, that he was somehow protecting us with his horrible actions. I'm the white night, he cried out. The gateway will open if I am not here to guard it. That part was a bit odd.

The residents of Branville stood around, looking confused and uncertain as his cries became more pained, and his face began to dehydrate like a grape being turned into a raisin. Age lines turned to craters in an instant. Crevices turned into canyons, and his cheeks became sallow. The color fled from his eyes as they turned gray, and the hair began to drop from his head in clumps. The clothes upon his back became too large as his waistline drew inwards, and his breathing turned to a wheezing death rattle. I'm your protector.

He managed as he collapsed on the stage. His skin began to flake and float away in the breeze. until there was nothing left where he had stood only moments before. It was silent for a second, but then a deep, thundering noise rose up all around, and the ground began to shake. A shrill, cackling sound of laugh to rose up into the air. I looked to see the woman who had introduced herself to me as Charlie's daughter, Hilda, was now transforming, turning into something else.

Her form turned shadow-like and semi-transparent, as she began to hover above the ground. Her laughter continued to fill the air as the ground split open, revealing a wide, gaping chasm. Far down below us, in the pit, I could see dark spectral shapes rising up toward us. Their forms were long, streaming, dark and evil-looking. They held spears and pitchforks, rising up on air currents from what appeared to be lava, flames, and oppressive darkness. We knew one day you would all grow tired of the guardian. The spectral woman cackled. Death if we did.

For centuries, we made them weak to the urges of the flesh. We made them greedy, for our mortals can be tempted. Now, you are unprotected, you are vulnerable. And this one sacred place on earth, which is a gateway to the underworld, can now be opened. The end is upon us. Her shrill laughter rose up higher once again as she floated above us in an unnatural red light. The approaching hordes of demons could be heard drawing closer, and a moment later they emerged from the chasm, shrieking and howling as they set off into the sky.

Thousands of them poured out, chasing the villagers and terrifying them as they reached out with long talon claws, gnashing at them with pointed teeth. One of the demon creatures came at me, and I ducked out of the way, just as its horrifying red-eyed visage flew past. Its screeching laugh pierced my ears and made me feel a sense of dread and hopelessness, unlike anything I'd ever experienced. As if the mere sense of the mere sense of, sound of the thing had stolen a piece of my soul. Another came at me, and another, each time filling me with crushing dread and despair and taking my energy from me. I can't explain the feeling, but suddenly it was like I hadn't slept in days, and as if I hadn't eaten in weeks. My movement

slowed with each attack, and this time I did not get away unscathed, as one of the horrible creatures managed to reach out and scrape my back, leaving long, pain. painful gashes. I wound up on the floor and looked to see Bill was standing there with a medallion in his hand. One of the demons was coming at him, though, and it was attempting to steal it from him. Several of them swarmed him like angry bats, harassing him and swatting him with their massive wings as they hovered around him, clawing and scratching at his arms, trying to take their prize. I shouted. He seemed to hear me over the inhuman shrieks and looked at me. His eyes wide with fear. But then it registered, and he quickly threw the medallion on, squeezing his head through

the chain until it rested around his neck. The demon woman who had tricked me screamed. She saw what was happening, but it was too late. Bill was our white night now. The chasm began to shake and boom, and the ground quaked as it closed back up again. All of the demon creatures were suddenly being sucked back down into the abyss of hell, as if a giant Hoover vacuum was pulling them in. They screeched and screamed, and the demon lady went with them, back down into the pit. A second later it sealed back up, and the town common was smooth and flat once again. The tables and chairs arranged around an autumn-themed stage decorated with corn and pumpkins. Bill stood upon the stage and blushed as the entire town began to applaud and shout for joy.

Charlie Munson was gone, and we had a new protector now, a new king of Branville. Bill isn't quite as bad as Charlie was. He moved into the biggest house in town, kicking out the previous owners, so we're not neighbors anymore. The folks whose house he took were gracious enough about it, and they moved in across the street from me. Bill assures us that the payments we make every season aren't just for him. They're part of the ancient ritual to keep the gate closed, but many of us don't fully

believe him. It all just sounds like more of the same old, same old. a new Charlie Munson. Only this one with a kinder smile and a gentler handshake. Still, we're all okay with the deal. If it means we can keep those demons down in hell and keep the apocalypse from happening for a little while longer. Because here in Branville, we're not all in it for ourselves, and we look out for each other.