Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - I robbed the wrong house...

Episode Date: August 26, 2021

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Before this next episode, I'd like to thank my new Patreon supporters, Caleb, GMGM, and Nicholas. If you'd like to receive exclusive stories, early access, and add free episodes for only five bucks a month, go to patreon.com slash DR No Sleep. Now time for the story. You probably won't believe me, but you have to. Because if I don't get any help, I will be stuck here, possibly forever. This isn't the sort of life I wanted when I was growing up. I mean, does any parent encourage their child to steal? Of course not. My dad worked two jobs.

I hardly ever saw him. And that was just to make ends meet. My brother and I went to school every day like good kids. But often we came home hungry because we couldn't afford to pay for the lunches. In those days, we didn't have any kind of government aid to help with the cost. Kids would laugh at us when we couldn't pay for a simple sandwich. Along with a daily ridicule at lunch, my youngest brother Joseph would grab his stomach and moan in pain. This enraged me to no end, and I felt compelled to do something, to take matters into my own hands.

I vowed that my brother and I would never go hungry again. From that moment on, I would steal food from the lunch line without anyone noticing. I became so good at stealing that it was second nature to me. One day, my father never came home from work. It was at this moment where my skills became a necessity. I had to provide for my family and the only way I knew how. I scoped out the house for a week. It was in a middle-class neighborhood, just across from the Bay Area, and I couldn't help

but to think it was an easy mark. There was no indication that the homeowner was even there at all. I just figured it must be a summer retreat. I waited until it got dark to sneak in the back. There were no dogs and no security system, so I knew getting inside would be a breeze. As a matter of fact, the patio door was unbolted. The entire house was silent. I remember thinking it seemed almost too quiet.

I've never believed in ghosts or anything supernatural, but this particular night, I got a bad vibe as I walked through the rooms. Something was off. I could just feel it in my bones. I checked the master bedroom to be sure that nobody was home. Sure enough, it was completely empty. I went from room to room, seeing where they kept their valuables. The place felt like a tomb rather than a home, I thought. Everything had dust caked on it, and the furniture was untouched. I went toward the back of the house and peeked into the room. I saw sleeping children, two girls sleeping in separate beds. At least the place isn't totally abandoned, I thought to myself. I also noticed the electricity and water still worked,

so I knew someone must pay the bills. I paused when I saw a stairwell leading down into a dark basement below. Usually I avoid anywhere that makes me feel like I'm going to be trapped, but something compelled me to check it out. I treaded lightly just in case there was some sort of sensor I couldn't see. and peered into the darkness. My smartphone illuminated the area. The basement reminded me of something you might see at an antique store, with loads of stuff stacked against the walls. There were wardrobes and old toy chests from the 50s. More than anything else, my interest took hold of a large safe.

It looked like the type you would seal guns in or other high dollar valuables. I instantly got to work, figuring out how to crack it. All concern about the strangeness and the house faded away as I got out my tools and focused on the task. The air was very still, almost like it felt heavy as I studied the safe and imagined what might be inside. Using the tiny pick I've used probably a hundred times before, I set to work undoing the lock. Every type is different. Every movement needs to be perfect. And it just seemed like it all works so beautifully, like it wanted to be opened.

Finally, the door began to creak open. A wave of excitement washed over me as I looked in to see what my fries would be. My joy turned to utter horror when I realized there was a body of a grown woman shoved inside the safe. At first it took me a moment to even register. It was such a shock. I stepped back and looked again, trying to see if there were any signs of life. Then, to my shock, the woman's eyes darted open and she gasped for breath. She fell into the floor, hardly able to move as she kept gagging.

I panicked and dropped my flashlight. I darted up the stairs. What sort of madhouse was this? Why was she down there? What else was this place hiding? I moved toward the patio door where I had come in, figuring that it was best to live and let live, and forget I saw a thing.

In other words, get out of Dodge before it was too late. To my horror, the door was bolted shut, and no matter how hard I tried, it wouldn't open. I fidgeted it with the lock a few times, thinking it was my nerves and adrenaline that prevented me from getting it loose. But no, this wasn't it. Something, some unnatural force was keeping the lock in place.

I took a step back, I looked about the room to grab a blunt object. Something. Anything to shatter the glass. I found a vase. I smashed it straight against the glass panel, only to have shards of the material cascade across my face. I stumbled back in pain and confusion,

trying to figure out what was happening when I heard the strangest, desperate moan from the basement. Help me. Please, help. I froze and looked down at the bottom of the stairs, where my light had fallen, and saw the woman was struggling to crawl up towards me. Something in her eyes told me that I needed to help her if I hoped to get out of here alive.

She was as much a victim now as I was. I went to the kitchen and got a glass of water, then moved down the stairs to where she had collapsed. Placing the cup against her parched lips, I forced her to take a few sips and then reached for my light. Who in God's name did this to you? I whispered as I looked at all of the antiques in the basement again. There were mannequins there as well, life-sized ones that looked almost like people. It gave me an even stranger vibe, so I pulled her up the stairs to the den to recuperate. Once I had her on the couch, I checked all of the other entrances and windows to the house.

All of them were the same. Nothing I did could open them. A sense of dread overwhelmed me as I kept trying. Panic rushed through my body as I returned to where the woman was resting. She looked like skin and bones. You, you can't leave, she said as she weakly reached for another glass of water. I gave it to her as fast as I could, trying to keep my own hands from shaking as I let her recover. She said as she finally got a chance to catch her breath.

What happened to you? This house, it's taken a hold of me. It won't let me leave. She said as she sat up and placed a hand on her stomach. What month is it? August. Wait, how long were you in that safe? I asked.

Only recently. But it feels like forever. her. It was the only way I knew to survive. To go in there. I had just enough oxygen left. She mumbled as she looked about the room. Her eyes looked frantic like she was expecting the house itself to come to life and attack her. What is this place? I asked her. I listened as she told me her story. Her name was Sophia, and she was a single mom with two daughters, Rose and Marie. They should have been a typical suburban family. I don't know why their name stuck in my head, but as she described their faces, their smile, and their dimples,

it was like I could see them here in the room with us, laughing and running around the den with bubble wands as princesses. The realtor told us this was a good neighborhood, low crime rate. Schools were excellent. I couldn't see a reason not to move here, especially since the house was such a steal. She told me. The sense of unease began that very first night. I was settling the girls to bed, and I realized I had forgotten to turn off the lights

the bathroom. I went back and stared at my reflection in the mirror. It looked like someone else. I can't explain it. It was me, but not the way I normally recognized myself. Like just a shadow of who I used to be. You probably don't believe me, but I was like you once. On the streets, grounding for money and food all day long. A kind pastor took me in and changed my ways. but when I was looking at the mirror that night, I saw my old self. It scared the hell out of me. The next morning, I was getting the kids ready for school, not expecting anything to be any different, but the house had already decided that it was going to force us to stay.

We couldn't leave, couldn't escape. She said as she began to sob. I didn't dare ask what had become of her daughters. Something told me. It was far more gruesome than she cared to recount. I wondered briefly about the sleeping figures I had seen in the other room. Did I even want to know? That was at the end of March.

Our doors were locked and we watched the world go by. We tried to make the most of it at first. We really did. I was fortunate enough that the house gave us food, water, and light. We even had television and internet for the girls. She paused and passed me her phone showing her last social media post was back in May. I wanted to try and get the word out about it. us. Our friends were worried, or so I thought. But when I checked online, I realized no record of us

even existed anymore. We belong to this house now. No one was coming to rescue us, and any attempt we made to warn others was not going to make a difference. Sophia's voice began to shake. I had this sickening, sinking feeling. The realization struck me that we were never, ever going to get out of here. Prisoners to this unseeking. seen beast. Sophia started to shake and cry, barely able to hold it together as she told me how the story ended. Rose and Marie were so brave up until the end. I wanted them to be thankful for the time we had together. But it broke my heart when I realized they could never have a normal life. They were robbed of that happiness. And I couldn't live with myself because of that. They didn't

deserve it. Her eyes became misty, and she stared out toward the sky. Then she jumped up and started to scream. She slammed her fist into the window, desperately trying to break it. Why did you do this? What do you want for me? She snarled as her rage turned back to grief, and she crumpled to the floor. I was at a loss for words. None of this even felt real. I wanted to think it was just a bad dream, but I knew otherwise. And then a sinking feeling hit me, as I realized that I was now a prisoner too. Has it ever spoken to you? I asked, as I helped her to her feet. She shook, and then pushed me away. I thought that it wanted us dead.

That's why I did it. It's why I let my girl so peacefully go into the night. I wanted to die. I tried. Damn it, I did. The monoxide was supposed to be the way out for us. Instead, it brought me you. Why?

Why did it need you? She whispered. I didn't know how to answer that, but she seemed all too eager to spout a theory as she got away from me and scrambled to the kitchen. She grabbed a knife, waving at me erratically. You don't want to do that.

I warned her. I watched as my little girls took their last breaths. I let them fall asleep in death because I was sure that if we just died, the house would let us go. But it won't. It couldn't. Not until it found you.

Lady, put the knife down, please. I said as a wild look sparkled in her eyes. It needed a new host, something to feed off of. That's why when I locked myself in the basement, I was so sure the fumes would get to me faster. But then I realized it wasn't working. She leaned towards me, trying to attack as I retreated knocking furniture over.

But the house compelled me to get in that safe, to wait for you. It knew somehow you were coming, she said erratically. I stumbled into the same bedroom as before. Another wave of terror overwhelmed me as I looked down and realized that the slumbering forms I had seen earlier were in fact two corpses. It was too gruesome for words. I had no idea if anything she said was true, or if she had simply gone insane.

Either way, this woman was now determined to take me to the, grave two. She froze as she saw her daughter and began to laugh. I understand now. I know why I couldn't before. I had to wait. She mumbled as she stepped away from me. Now, now I can be free. Sophia said as she placed the blade against her throat. I instinctively tried to stop her, but it was too late. Blood spilled out as she sliced her jugular and she fell to the floor. I was standing over her as she gasped and choked on her own blood. But the house was quiet again, and I was alone with these corpses. If you have ever been in a house late at night, you know there are some older models that have to settle in the night. It's this low-growing noise that seems to reverberate through the house.

I heard it that night as I stood there in the empty halls, but it didn't sound like anything a normal house might do. This was a moan from hell itself, and I realized what Sophia had said was true. I tried to run again and find some way out. The doors were of no use, nor were the windows. I thought maybe I could get out through the roof. I tried to climb into the attic to see, but as the ladder dropped, and I pushed myself up on the first row, my legs felt very, very heavy. Something unseen was pulling me down. A voice amid the walls whispered that I had to stay. I began to wander the house, to see the different things that this family had done to make it a home despite being trapped here for months. It was like seeing a slideshow transformed from joyful memories to ones of grief.

Food was at first carefully prepared, and then eventually it became nothing. but a chore, a necessity to survive. Then it no longer mattered at all. I could feel Sophia's desperation in every room, and it was now becoming mine. At least she had her children to turn to, to keep her distracted, for a little while anyway, until she realized how unfair it was to make them live this way. I didn't want to relive those terrible days of hers. But me, what did I have? Nothing. I didn't even belong here. I came here to steal, and instead wound up the one stolen. ironic, really. The house was now what would rob me of any chance at a life beyond this.

I sat on the couch, thinking all of this over as daybreak came, and light shifted into the empty house. I knew that the house required me to stay, even if I didn't want to, unless I got someone like Sophia to come here and to set me free too. Someone like me. I found her laptop in the master bedroom and set up a listing on Zillow. Retail price of only $193,000, a steel in this neighborhood. I made sure to list the schools and the low crime rate.

That way when the realtor came to show the house, they wouldn't even suspect its dark past. Then I disposed of the bodies, chemicals in the garage were the easiest way. I think I lost every last bit of what soul I had left when I chopped up those children. I know they were already long gone, but it made me feel less than human.

It was then I realized I had already become part of the house too, another victim of a cycle that was about to repeat. It won't be long now. The house will let me move on and take on a new host. I leave this behind for whoever is the new owner to be warned of what is to come for you. Maybe you will be able to survive longer than Sophia or I.

Maybe it is possible to make this place a home. But something in my bones tells me that's exactly what it wants you to think. And it will just hunger for more. Lazzang sur-goled, power and power for 10 minutes. We'd say that's their dojo. Pre-to-jew!

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