Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - Dancing with the Devil

Episode Date: November 5, 2021

This story was written by Bikram Mann. You can check out his new book on Amazon here: Unclean Spirits  🎉 Ad-free episodes + bonus episodes: https://www.patreon.com/drnosleep 🎧 Check out the Dr. SCP podcast here: https://spoti.fi/3zCFjQc 🎽 Dr. NoSleep Merchandise: teespring.com/stores/dr-nosleep-merch ✅ Advertising Inquiries: [e-mail] DISCLAIMER: This story is R-rated for adults 18 years or older. NOT for children. #drnosleep #scarystories #horrorstories #truescarystories #horrorpodcast #horror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

It was the turn of the millennium. It was fall in the year 1999. I was a scrawny, 11-year-old white kid, living in small-town America. Having been born in a somewhat well-off family, I hadn't experienced danger or fear in a meaningful enough way to sharpen my survival instinct. Maybe if I had, I wouldn't have gotten up to the kind of stupid shit that made me stumble into the worst mistake of my life. We lived in a close-knit community, so I had plenty of friends growing up, mostly from backgrounds similar to mine. By far, my closest friends were Jonah, the pimply Jewish kid with the buzz cut, red-headed Eric, with a plump, face pockmarked with freckles, gangly Michael, the lone black friend of our group, as also of our grade. And finally, there was tough guy Adam, who wasn't just fat like Ed, but had thick arms that were beginning to swell with muscles. A total sausage fest, I know. Now it's not that we hated girls. We just lacked the social skills required to interact with them beyond stammering the awkward

in noisy school hallways. And most of those went unheard as well. The five of us were tight as a fist all throughout our childhood. At least we were until we decided to summon the devil to Michael's attic. Small towns like ours always have folk tales and legends that give them more character than they truly deserve. Sometimes it's a haunted house. Other times it is a hairy monster out in the woods. And sometimes it's an insane ice cream truck driver that murders little children. Ours has a ritual, one that can help you summon the devil and make him do your bidding.

The story for some reason changes depending on who you're talking to. Here is the story as I first heard it. Satan had once been made to bleed on our soil, causing our town to acquire a special significance for the Lord of the Fallen. Since Satan found himself wounded on this land, he's forever cursed to be in a weakened state here, allowing us the opportunity and the capability to summon him, bind him, and command him. Sounds nonsensical, right? We thought so too, right up until the moment he appeared in Michael's attic.

It was my idea, of course. Who else but the troublemaker of the group would suggest something like this? My plan was to use the ritual to scare the shit out of Jonah and Ed. Do the old hocus pocus, and then either act like I had been possessed by a demon, or get Adam to pretend to be the devil himself. The guy had a real gruff voice. Puberty had hit his throat harder than a truck full of cigarettes. Now that voice in a dark and cramped attic?

Fuck, but it could make even all Lucifer yellow as briefs. Don't get me wrong. I really wasn't trying to hurt my friends, or leave them with permanent emotional scars. It was all supposed to be in good fun. Just a harmless prank. Who would have thought that shit would go off the deep end the way it did? Certainly not me. The night was still young and bustling with post-dinner clatter when I found myself on Michael's porch. His double-story house was built in the colonial style, with thick slate walls and a small round window in the attic that glared down the entire length of the cul-de-sac. I whistled as I hopped up the creaky steps and knocked on the doorbell. Muscle memory guided my action more than conscious decision.

The door clicked open almost immediately, and Adam's grinning face pumped out. Damn, dude, you're already here, I said. Why the fuck wouldn't I be? He asked, still smiling. Not like I have any better place to be tonight. Quick, get in. Jonah and Ed aren't here yet. He held the door open for me.

I ducked under his arm and sauntered into the living room where Michael was sitting on the couch, pouring over a ragged, piss-colored piece of paper. Yo, I greeted him. What's you doing? He looked up. Hey, just reading up on what this goddamn ritual thing is all about. Come the fuck on, bro. Adam groaned, closing the door shut behind him.

You've read that thing a million times already. Are you trying to write an essay on it or something? He raised his hands in a placating case. gesture. I'm just being careful, which you'd be too, might I add, if it was your house we were trying to summon Satan in. Yeah, well, the thing is, Michael, I said as I plopped myself down on the couch next to him, Satan isn't real. It's just shit they made up to stop you from making the bald cry. He raised an eyebrow. Making the bald man cry? Yep. I nodded and wiggled my finger in the air. They really don't want you scratching Yoda behind the ears. Absolutely.

Adam said solemnly as he sat on the chair in front of us. They hate if you beat the bishop, and don't even think about flogging the one-eyed snake. Michael's face looked like he'd bitten a big chunk out of rotten cheese. God, you guys are fucking gross. Adam and I giggled and gave each other a high-five. So, Michael said, trying to cut our laughter short. Are we really doing this? Of course we are, I said.

Don't tell me you're thinking of chickening out. Yeah, don't do that, Michael. Adam added. That's not very nice. I'm not chickening out, okay? He said. I don't have any problems with scaring the crap out of Jonah and Ed. I'm just saying we don't really have to do the ritual exactly like the legend says.

I shook my head. No. We absolutely have to do it the right way. We need to keep it real, or the reveal won't have quite the same impact. Yeah, I don't know. Come on, man. I promise you the devil isn't going to actually pop up in your attic. Yeah, Michael, don't be a pussy, Adam said.

Hey, fuck you. He fired back. I am not being a pussy. You kind of are, I said softly. He glared at the both of us before shaking his head. Christ. Less than five minutes later, we climbed the creaky stairs to Michael's attic and pushed the door open. I smiled as my eyes drank this scene in.

It was cramped and dingy. The smell of mold and damp wood hung thick in the air. The corners were piled with broken furniture, covered in tattered white rags. Discarded toys and other knick-knacks littered the wooden floor. Dust moats shivered in the weak moonlight that struggled its way through the round dirt-speckled window. Next to the window was a white cabinet with paint peeling off its panels. It was just large enough to allow one of us to squeeze into it. Perfect.

Where's the damn light switch? Adam asked. Michael didn't bother to reply and slipped off to our left. Seconds later, we heard a click as golden light flooded the attic, revealing the grime that caked the floor. Shit, dude, you really need to get some cleaning done up here, Adam said. Oh, I'm so sorry, Adam. Next time I decide to summon Lucifer to this place,

I'll make sure to grab a broom and sweep the fucking floor first. You really should. I'm sure he'll appreciate the cleanliness. I chuckled. What? You think the devil is some kind of. a neat freak? Huh? Would be kind of funny if he was, I muttered, then raised my voice as Adam walked towards the cabinet. Open it up. Let's see if we can fit you in there. The rotted wooden door

let out with thin squeal as Adam forced it open and squatted down in front of it before crawling into the blasted thing, then turned and faced us. From within the shadows of the cabinet, he flashed us a mischievously satisfied grin. He looks like a frog, doesn't he? Michael asked. Ribbit, Ribbit, Adam said. I laughed. Just you wait there, little froggy. We'll get you some flies and shit to gobble up. Yum.

Michael checked his watch. Those two should be here soon. You want to go downstairs and make sure everything is ready for the ritual? I nodded as Adam climbed out of the cabinet. You're going to be okay up here all alone? Yep. Just going to take the time to practice my demon voice. Awesome.

Michael laughed. All right. Let's go then. I followed him out of the attic. A smile crossed my mouth as I heard Adam begin to growl behind me. Are you sure your parents will stay gone? I asked Michael, as we descended the attic stairs. Don't want them popping up in the middle of the night

and finding us pulling some satanic shit in the attic. He waved his hand dismissively. Don't worry about it. My dad's at a work party with my mom, and I don't think his boss will let him leave early. A mandatory party, I mused. Christ, what an asshole. No kids allowed either.

equipped. So yeah, we'll have more than enough time to have a little chat with the devil. Can't wait. At the bottom of the stairs, Michael turned right and headed off towards the kitchen. I took a second to peek out of the living room window to see whether Jonah and Ed had arrived yet before following in his footsteps. In the kitchen, I found him tossing a candle inside a cracked ceramic bowl. I watched as he retrieved a box of matches from a shelf and then nodded at me. We're all set now. Just have to wait for our two little lambs and lead them off to their slaughter. A chill of malicious excitement rippled through me. God, this is going to be good. We spent a couple of minutes going over each step of the ritual before the bell rang. It was loud and hollow, like something you'd hear in an old church.

I flashed Michael a grin and made my way over to the front door. As I swung it open, I found myself staring at my two friends. Is it them? Michael called out from the living room. Yeah. I shouted. Fat Batman with his trusty sidekick, anemic robin. Fuck you, Johnny. Ed said as he pushed his way past me and waddled into the house. Hey, Johnny.

Jonas said as he followed, his oversized green shirt hanging loosely on his thin frame. They exchanged greetings with Michael and proceeded to make themselves comfortable on the living room couch. So is Adam really not coming? Ed asked as he munched on a bar of chocolate he'd pulled out of his jeans. Nah, he's gone to his grandma's place. I said, quickly shooting a glance at Michael. It sucks, because I think he would have loved to be part of the ritual. Yeah, about that, Jonah said.

Are we really doing it? Of course we are. We talked about this repeatedly, remember? I don't know, man. It just seems stupid, Jonah said, gently shrugging his shoulders. Stupid? Wait, are you scared, Jonah? I asked, injecting mockery into my voice.

He shook his head defensively. I'm not scared, okay? It's just, I don't know. You don't know what? I asked. I don't know. It's just stupid. Wow, what a compelling argument.

You've certainly convinced me you're not scared shitless right now. Michael rolled his eyes. Ed snickered. I'm not scared. I just think we shouldn't be messing around with this stuff. Like, what if we accidentally start a fire or something? Start a fire? Because of one candle in a bowl?

He bit his lip as his eyes darted around. Scaredy cat. I said. He frowned. I'm not a scaredy cat. You kind of are. Fuck it then. Jonah said indignantly.

Let's do it. Yeah, you tell him, Jonah. Ed said. Okay, then. Let's do it. I said. Wait, right away? Jonah asked, a little unsure.

Yes, right away. I said. Oh, all right then. Jonah said meekly, before squealing in fright as Michael thrust the bowl into his face. Quit it, Mikey, Ed giggled. Save some for the devil. Adam was nowhere to be seen when we entered the attic.

I made sure to make as much noise as possible while climbing the stairs, so he had more than enough time to pack himself into the little cabinet. Consciously trying not to look at his hiding place, Michael and I made the others sit down in a circle near the window, such that Jonah and Ed's backs were facing the cabinet. The light hadn't been turned on, so the murky moonlight was the only source of illumination up there. The shadows added a dash of tension to the atmosphere. It took a Herculane amount of effort to keep a smile from crossing my face and giving the game away. The thought of

Adam's gravely voice seeping out of the closet and his thick hand slamming onto the back of their necks was about to send me into a fit of giggles. I pursed my lips as Michael scooted forward and placed the cracked bowl at the center of our circle. All right, so you guys know what to do, right? Michael asked. Yes. It answered, and was soon echoed by Jonah. Good. I'm going to go over it all once again anyway, Michael said,

and handed out thumb-sized pieces of crisp white paper. Write your names on these. Then when your turn comes, toss your paper into the fire and state two things, your greatest desire and your greatest secret. As simple as that, I muttered as I took one and hastily scrawled my name on it. The sound of pen scratching paper and weight shifting on wood filled the attic. As the sounds retreated, a thick and heavy silence swept into the room. Okay, Michael said softly.

Here we go. The sound of a match flaring to life ensued, and a small bright flame floated above Michael's thumb. He used the match to light the candle and gingerly placed it inside the bowl. The small light threw jagged shadows on his long face. So who wants to go first? Michael asked. Johnny?

Sure. I said that I took a deep breath before lighting my paper on fire and tossing it into the bowl. What I want more than anything is to be a wrestler, the best in the world, better than Brethardt even. I glared at the others, daring them to laugh at me. None of them did. I gritted my teeth. My biggest secret is that I steal money for my dad's wallet to buy cigarettes. It wasn't even close to being my biggest secret, but no way was I revealing that for a prank.

This would have to suffice. Michael nodded. I guess I'll go next. His hand shook a little as he lit his paper and tossed it in. What I want more than anything is to be an F1 driver. He looked at each of us in turn. I mean, there's just something about the thought of being on that racetrack man. going as fast as I possibly can.

That just gets me going. You know what I mean? I bobbed my head enthusiastically. He scratched his jaw. My biggest secret is that I am absolutely terrified of spiders. Ed snorted. Come on, dude. That's your biggest secret?

Hey, don't judge me. I don't have any other deep secrets, okay? I'm an open book. He seemed too jittery to be telling the truth, but I didn't call him out on it. Next was Jonah. As he tossed his burning paper into the ball, thunder growled in the distance outside. Funny, I thought. I hadn't seen a single cloud in the sky that day. What I want more than anything is to be a surgeon, like my grandfather, he said,

saving people's lives and all. I know it sounds a little corny, but I really want to be like him. Grandpa's boy through and through, huh? I said. I dig it. He bit his lip and let his eyes sweep over the rest of us. My biggest secret is that I hate my parents. My mom beats me, and my dad is a workaholic who doesn't have any time for me. The bastard even told me. He wishes I had never been born. My grandpa was the only family I loved, and now he's gone. Jesus Christ, dude, Michael swore. Ed clapped his hand on his mouth. Wow, you really laid it all out, I said. My eyes wide with surprise. I felt a twinge of guilt in my chest. I only wanted to scare him. Not this. It's supposed to be our biggest secret, isn't it? Jonah asked. The only way we'd stay safe in this

ritual is if we're completely honest. Isn't that right? The twinge of guilt turned into a throbbing ache. He was taking this shit way too seriously. I couldn't see the look on his face. Had it somehow gotten darker inside the attic? I turned my neck to gaze out the window. When Ed's voice drew my attention towards him. All right, I'm next, he said, pulling himself closer to the bowl, his stomach jiggling with the movement. He crushed the paper in his hand and then held it above the flame. What I want more than anything is to lose some goddamn weight. That wasn't a surprise to anybody. And my biggest secret is that I believe my mom enjoys me being this fat. She loves the fact that she's not the only fucking pig in the family. I'll never get thin as long as I'm living.

with her. She'll keep pouring all the fucking grease in the world down my throat. And my dad is too much of a coward to stop her. Disgusting fucking bitch. He steadily grew angrier with each word, turning red as a tomato by the end of his rant. His eyes pricked with tears, retreated into his skull as his face scrunched up into an expression of deep loathing. An uncomfortable silence choked the attic. The only thing punctuating it was Ed's heavy breathing. Jonah patted his back, but didn't say anything. Fortunately for all of us, Adam hadn't popped out of his hiding place. The only thing that could make it all worse was admitting to Jonah and Ed that we made them say all that shit for a dumb prank.

I glanced at the cabinet to give him a signal to not continue with what we had planned in case he hadn't yet been dissuaded by what we all had just heard. A frown creased my brow. I couldn't see the cabinet. When the fuck did it get this dark? And why was it so quiet? We should have at least heard the sounds of people moving about in their kitchens, or the excited shouting of little children.

Don't cry, Ed, buddy, Michael said. I mean, no matter what happens, you've always got us, right? Yes, you do. Jonah added, my ears were strained for any noise from the streets outside. My heart pounded in my chest when I didn't hear anything. Right, Johnny? I jumped and looked at Michael. Huh?

I was telling Ed that we'll always be there for him. Isn't that right? I nodded absent-mindedly. Yeah, for sure. We'll always have your back. Hey, do any of you guys hear? I was cut off by a noise, heavy boots thudding on the attic stairs.

Holy shit. What? What is that? You don't think that's actually... Michael, fuck! You said your parents weren't going to be home. Michael's stunned expression made me feel like someone had dumped a bucket of ice down the back of my shirt. The footsteps grew louder, closer,

or purposeful. They sounded like a hammer on wood. What the fuck? Quick, hide the ball. Why? What good will that do? Guys, that's it. I'm fucking coming out. Someone screamed. What? Is that Adam? I didn't pay any attention to Adam's attempts to crawl out of his hiding spot or to see the other's reactions. My eyes were nailed to the attic. Thoughts churned inside my head. Who was going to come in. I was desperately pulling my mind away from the obvious answer. It was too irrational, too terrifying. The door flung open with a loud bang. A tall figure stood at the threshold, silhouetted by the yellow light fixed on the landing below. He was dressed in a black suit and wore a black top hat. I squinted, but I couldn't see his face. He walked in. As his boots

clicked on the wooden floor, we rushed away from him and tried to hug the walls with our backs. He made his way over to where we had been sitting and came to a halt at the exact same spot where we had placed the bowl. A loud thud followed. Guys, what's happening outside? Another thud. Fuck, why is this locked? Why can't I get it open? The stranger cocked his head and looked at the cabinet.

Another thud. Fucking hell, I'm going to break this thing down. He waved his hand and the cabinet fell silent. It was bizarre. The thing was still rattling. We could see. and feel Adam thrashing around inside, but no sound came from the cabinet. My head swam at what I was seeing.

The intruder, no, the devil, finally tore our attention away from the cabinet. He walked towards the pile of discarded furniture, pulled out an old rag-covered chair with creaky legs, and sat himself down on it. All right, boys, he said, his voice harsh like sandpaper. Let's get on with it, shall we? None of us replied to him. We didn't so much as move. Move. Chop, chop, he said.

I don't have all night. I bawled up my clammy hands into fists, but didn't say anything. Speak. He said loudly. You obviously had something in mind when you decided to summon me, didn't you? So talk. To my left, Michael muttered something. Loudly, son.

Let us all hear what you have to say. An audible gulp followed. We, we didn't think you would actually come, Mr. Lucifer. The devil's chest shook with a silent chuckle. I'm not Lucifer, kiddo. You really think he would waste his time on stupid shit like this? Nah, grunts like me are enough for this. Further to Michael's left, someone was sobbing.

Jonah or Ed, I couldn't tell. Who? I mean, what are you? Michael asked, his voice cracking. Is that really the most important question to you right now? No, no. Then what is it you should be asking? I spoke up before Michael could. Will you let us go?

I noticed a flash of white teeth in the shadows as he grinned. No, not if I can help it. A shudder ran through me. My knees right about gave out. Please, please let us go. Ed Wembert. Don't think so. We performed the ritual.

He sobbed. You have to. You failed at performing the ritual you mean. You can't really expect to contain a demon with phony shit and a weak resolve, kids. You really can't. Please. Michael begged. Let us go. Sir, is there any way we can leave? I asked. And now you finally asked the right question. Yes, Johnny, my boy, there is a way for you to leave. Dear God, he knew my name. What is it? Michael asked. Simple. One of you needs to give me a soul. What? I asked, aghast. One soul, that's all I ask. Surely you guys can bring yourself to

sacrifice one of your own. How about Adam? He can't listen to what's happening here right now, so he won't ever get to know who condemned him. How does that sound? Good, yeah. Give me your buddy's soul, and I'll let you all walk out of here alive. Don't. And I'll kill you for bothering me on this fine evening and go along on my merry way. Not a bad deal, right? I'd take it if I were you. His offer shocked us all into silence. Finally, after a couple of agonizingly long moments, I opened my mouth, not quite believing what I was about to say. We would need some time to. Jonah cut me off. No, we can't. What? I yelled. We can't kill him and condemn him to an eternity of torture. We can't.

So you want to take his place then? Michael asked. His voice somehow thick with sarcasm, even in a situation as terrifying as this. No. Jonah replied, his voice wavering. But we can't do this to him. It's not right.

Why not, Jonah? One of us has to die. So why not him? Or are you telling me you have some way of stopping this demon? I was practically screaming. Don't forget. Adam bullied the shit out of you.

I mean, he was planning to scare the crap out of you, and now you want to be a fucking martyr for him? So were you, Johnny, you piece of shit. How about we all kill you instead? Jonah shot back. Don't be stupid, Jonah. I said, trying not to let the dread I was feeling creep into my voice. He's my friend.

I don't want him to die. But if it's between all of us living and Adam dying versus all of us dying and Adam living, I'm choosing the first option. I agree, Michael whispered, then raised his voice. It's not right, but it's the only one. way. In this situation, his is the only name we can all agree on. It's the only way. Ed squeaked in agreement.

Looks like you've been outvoted, Jonah. I said feeling slightly relieved. It's not a democracy. Jonah protested. We can't leave Adams' fate up to a vote. You stupid suicidal fuck! I cursed. What the fuck is wrong with you? The demon clapped his hands, shutting us all up in an instant. As interesting as this conversation has been,

And as much as I would like to watch this little ethical dilemma play out, I have better things to do tonight. So please, hurry the fuck up. I gave Jonah a quizzical look. He turned his head away and disgust. We have a deal, I said quickly, before one of them could change their minds. He grinned, his bared teeth reminding me of a shark. Finally, he said.

He clicked his fingers. The gap between the panels and the frame of the cabinet lit up with a blinding bright orange glow. Smoke billowed out, and sound came rushing back. Adam screamed and slammed into the door of the cabinet. My heart shriveled up as I heard and felt the agony in his voice. Sweat beated on my forehead as tears gushed out of my eyes. I was listening to my friend's death throws. The screams continued for what felt like hours, sawing themselves into our memory. We didn't try to help him. We couldn't. Our bodies were wouldn't move. It felt like our nerves had been flooded with ice. We stood rooted to our spots

like mannequins, even as the smell of burning flesh swamped our nostrils. Adam's death left an utterly terrifying silence in its wake. I couldn't see the other three, but I knew that the same thought filled all our heads. What the fuck had we just done? Now run, you little shits, Run before I change my mind and decide to kill you all anyway. We didn't wait for him to say anything else and scrambled for the attic stairs, staying as far away from him as humanly possible. It was a stampede of rats that poured down the stairs, pulling and shoving and clawing and scratching to be the first one out.

We damn near tore the front door off its hinges as we ran out of the house, not even sparing a single glance towards the attic. We never spoke about that night again, or about anything, ever. They never found out what happened to Adam. He was reported missing, of course, but no one ever found his corpse. A statewide search was called,

but the rest of us kept our mouths tightly sealed. His disappearance broke his family. His dad drowned himself in liquor. His mom opened her wrists in the bathtub and bled out. After all of that, we still didn't say anything. Michael was the first one to move out of town. He convinced his parents that they needed to leave for better educational prospects from what I heard. But I knew better.

He couldn't live in that house anymore. Not after what we had done there. Jonah, Ed, and I quickly followed and moved out of town, hoping to put the nightmare behind us. I don't know about the others, but that night never left me. Its shadow has stretched over my life, suffocating, all the light out of this world. Every night I have terrifying nightmares that make my heart want to leave my chest. Every morning I wake up breathless. Guilt lash tight to my chest like a heavy band of iron. And every day I wonder. Just how much pain Adam was feeling at that moment. Thanks for listening.

This story was written by Bickram Man. He is a very talented horror writer. If you'd like to read more of his stories, check out his newly released book, Unclean Spirits, of available on Amazon. It's only $2.99 for Kindle users, or free if you have Kindle Unlimited. The link to his book is in the episode description. Lazzang sur-gillet, power and puttile, power for 15 minutes. We're saying that's their dojo. Live the pleasure with Leo Jo.

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