Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - I Sold my Soul to the Demon of the Beyond...

Episode Date: June 9, 2021

🎉 Get access to new ad-free episodes and my exclusive bonus episodes HERE: https://www.patreon.com/drnosleep 🔔 Dr. NoSleep YouTube channel: https://youtube.com/c/DrNoSleep 🎽 Dr. NoSleep Merchandise: teespring.com/stores/dr-nosleep-merch DISCLAIMER: These are fictional stories for entertainment purposes only. #drnosleep #scarystories #horrorstories #truescarystories #horrorpodcast #horror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Talk to nicely. I always thought suicide was simple. I was taught from an early age that it was wrong, period. It was never the answer. There were always other options, always other ways out. Suicide wasn't an answer. See, my parents are deeply religious. I don't mean that they're cultish or crazed zealots or anything like that,

but they hold very seriously to biblical values. Because of that, they always saw the commandment of thou shall not kill as applying to suicide as well as murder. They taught me that ultimately, they're the same. Suicide is no better than murder, because it is the murder of yourself and an abandonment of hope. They taught me that no matter how hard things got,

they could never get that bleak. I wish I could have been that naive, but I wasn't. It was seven years ago to this day when I was told that I had a terminal brain tumor. I was only 19 at the time, still living with my parents as I worked my way through community college, and anyone could see that things were rough already. My dad had just been fired from his job. We were behind on payments for our house. I barely could

scrape enough money to pay for each semester already, and I knew that this news would break them. We couldn't fight this, not really. Trying to keep their son comfortable as he slowly died, would just suck them dry. At that point, I was also broken emotionally. I had just lost my girlfriend of three years to a car accident, and my closest friend had moved across the country a few months earlier. My parents and I weren't getting along very well, and when I was told the news, I couldn't have felt more alone in the world. I had thought suicide was simple. Then I thought it was the answer. It was a week and a half after I found out when I decided to kill myself. My death was inevitable anyways, and this would help them in the long run. The decision made me surprisingly calm,

and I knew exactly when and how to do it. both worked on the weekdays, and they left the house empty. All I had to do was circle back after I left for classes when I knew they were gone, and I'd be good to go. I knew my dad kept a handgun in his study drawer, and it was easy to find and load. I had shot it before. He had taught me how. I remember everything about that moment. It was late morning, and the sun filtered through the blinds of my father's study. I could hear the grandfather clock ticking quietly across the room, could feel the hard mahogany desk beside me, and could see my hand as I raised it up to my eye level. My wrist trembled a bit as I leveled the gun to my temple, and I took a deep breath.

I counted the ticks of the clock. One, two, three, I pulled the trigger. I felt the bullet ripped through me. I know that sounds insane, but time seemed to slow to the milliseconds. I could feel the bullet tearing through my skin, ripping a hole in my skull before ultimately shredding through my brain. It didn't hurt, not like it should have. It was more of a dull awareness that my senses shouldn't have had, and I felt the bullet exit my skull in the same way. Then time sped again, and my body collapsed in a heap. I couldn't move. I couldn't look anywhere.

I just lay there, and I felt my heart stop. I could see blood trickle out into a sticky pool of red around me, conscious all the while. I couldn't understand it. My mind wouldn't understand it. I had shot myself point blank in the head, and I was somehow bleeding out on the floor and fully conscious. It was impossible. I had thought suicide was simple. Then, I thought it might be the answer.

As it turned out, it was something much more dangerous and far more horrific. I don't know how long I lay there, but ultimately, I was able to pull myself to my feet. I looked around myself in shock at the mess I had made in the study. Blood covered the floor, the desk, my clothes, everything. The wall behind me had stains of red, mixed with chunks of brain plastered across it, and I stumbled back in horror. I saw the evidence before me, the proof of the... my suicide, and yet there I stood, conscious, living. Feeling numb, I subconsciously reached my

hand to my temple, and my fingers felt the hole in my skull. They came away warm and sticky, covered in fresh blood still oozing from the wound, and I couldn't comprehend it. I couldn't make sense of it. The world was spinning around and around, and my brain couldn't function, couldn't comprehend what was happening to me. I could tell the symptoms of a panic attack were coming on, and I would have normally focused on settling my breathing. Then I realized, I wasn't. I was I wasn't breathing. I couldn't feel my heart, which should have been hammering away in my ribcage, my breaths, which should have been panicked and shallow, weren't there.

For all purposes, I should have been dead. I was dead. Was I a ghost? Was this a dream? I didn't know. After the initial shock died away, I was able to focus on my surroundings. Other than the mess of my own gore, everything seemed the same at a glance. But on closer inspection, I realized that there were subtle things that I was

were wrong. The colors of the room were dulled, like when someone turns down the contrast in a photo. The grandfather clock wasn't ticking, and the clock hands remained unmoving. The blood on the wall hadn't moved since I had gotten up, hadn't dripped down the wall any further. Stationary droplets hung to the paint, defying gravity. Nothing in the study made sense, and as I was still examining the room, the light from the window slowly dimmed and faded to darkness. In a few short seconds, I was left standing in complete blackness with time itself standing still. Then, from somewhere downstairs, I heard a screeching howl. It was shrill and painfully loud, ripping through the silence of the study like a jackhammer

in the middle of a Sunday mass. I might not have been thinking rationally at the time, but I had enough sense to pick up the gun from the floor beside me as I backed up rapidly. It was ironic when I think about it now. A few short minutes earlier, I had tried to end my own life. Now, I was suddenly afraid of losing it, or whatever state of consciousness, I had. Seconds later, a deep red glow appeared in the hallway outside of the study. The screeching continued, getting louder as the glow grew brighter, and I instinctively took a few steps back in alarm.

It was too dark to see, and my foot slipped on the puddle of my own blood still on the floor, and my legs went out from under me. I crashed to the floor, and the handgun went skidding out of my hands. Then I caught a glimpse of what was making the screeching, what was causing the glow. A figure stepped into the study from the hall, a tall, gangly figure that had to stoop to fit under the doorframe. It was naked and covered in black scales, and the long limbs twisted as it stepped forward. Its eyes shone like red spotlights, piercing the darkness of the room as I scrambled backwards in panic. I wasn't even aware that I was screaming until it spoke.

Well, spoke isn't exactly the right word to use. It paused at the doorway, those burning red eyes fixed on me. Behind them, I caught a glimpse of a horned head and sharp gleaming teeth, but that mouth didn't move, yet somehow I heard deep, guttural words echo in my mind. Why are you screaming, little one? I instinctively shut my mouth, and the creature tilted its head at me. Are you afraid of me? Are you afraid of this place? What? What are you?

I stammered as I crawled back. Something that was reminiscent of laughter echoed in my head, although there was no humor in it. It was a twisted, warped sound. Little one, I am the demon of the beyond, the ruler of this realm, of the kingdom, of the In between that exists between life and death, you've entered into my domain. How? I gasped, as my back came up against the hard wall. There was nowhere else to go, no more places to back up to. The demon took another step forward, and this time I felt the ground shake beneath his mighty steps.

His eyes never once turned away from me, illuminating my body and the section of the room around me in an eerie light. It is simple. You ended your own life on your own, and that gave it to me. I stared, mouth agape. What did that mean? That suicide led to this? That was foolish, ridiculous, impossible. I believed that after death there were only two options.

Heaven or hell. Suicide, accident, sickness. It didn't matter how you died. How you lived, however, mattered where you ended up. But yet, here I was, dead, yet alive. Talking to a demon in my father's study as time stood still. As if reading my thoughts, the demon continued. I do not control eternity itself, but I am given this little slice of it.

When you decided to play God and end your own life, you came to me, not to him, not to the other. You became mine, little one, and now I give you a choice. What kind of choice? I asked, as I stood up to face the demon. It still towered over me, but I refused to let myself seem powerless. You can either take your chances and pass on through my domain, maybe ending up in one of the two Eternities may be falling into the void of nothingness, or I can send you back to your mortal world, without the fatal wound you inflicted on yourself, and without the fatal curse that God has bestowed to you. My mouth went dry.

You're lying. How can any of this be real? I swear, a different glint came into those horrible eyes as I spoke, and the demon was suddenly at my throat, lifting me into the air by a shockingly powerful arm, and I found myself staring into that gaping maw of teeth. Do you doubt my power, little one? The voice snarled in my mind. I can dream your soul like it is nothing if I so desire.

Then what do you want for me? I managed to gasp out. The mouth closed, then morphed into something like a smile. A successor. I dropped to the floor and hit the ground hard, and the demon moved back a step as it spoke. I tire of being trapped in this realm, a curse given to me by the devil.

I hold power, but not enough to release myself, unless I gift that power to another mortal. If you swear your soul to me, I will restore you to your life, fully healed. And then when you die, decades later, you will take my place as the gatekeeper of souls in this wretched land. I swallowed hard. And if I refuse?

You will wander for several lifetimes here without my guidance until you either stumble into heaven or hell by chance or the void claims your soul. The latter is far more likely. the choice is yours. A choice. But there was really no choice left to make. I had tried to kill myself.

I had tried to die. And I saw a glimpse of what would happen to my soul if I let go. Suicide wasn't the answer. It was simply the first step in an impossibly painful path. I didn't want that. But to become like this creature? I looked around me then, taking in the study illuminated by the red glow.

I saw the pictures of my family on my dad's desk. I saw the Star Wars mug I had given him when I was ten. and the smile it had given him. I saw the trips he and my mom went on with me, when we didn't have much to spend, but had made the most of it. I saw the good times and the bad, and I made another decision right then and there.

I decided that I didn't want to lose them, not for good. You swear to me that you can take away my tumor as well? I asked hesitantly. I swear on the lake of fire itself, the creature said. You will be restored to a full and healthy life, a life that will be untampered with you. until your demise, then you will take my place and I will be released.

Then I accept your deal, I said, and I silently prayed that I hadn't made a mistake. In the blink of an eye, the study was back to normal. One second, it was darkness, with the demon standing before me. And then the next, the morning light was shining through the blinds, and the grandfather clock was ticking away angrily across from me. The demon had disappeared, and so had any signs of my attempted, or rather successful, suicide. The blood and fragments of gore had disappeared from the walls on floor, and the gun wasn't where I had left it.

I later found it back in the drawer where I had gotten it. In fact, everything was normal in an instant, and I found myself wondering if what I had just seen was some kind of crazed nightmare. Growning quietly, I put a hand on the desk beside me to pull myself to my feet, and that was when I saw it. There was a symbol etched into my right wrist, a half-open pentagram that was seemingly carved into the skin. It glowed a faint red, like the deep.

but faded away into nothingness after a few moments of looking at it. I now know that what had happened was very much real. The doctors verified, to their amazement, that my tumor had apparently disappeared. I had survived my suicide and was given a second chance at life, a chance that ended up being able to help my family get through their financial struggles and meet the person that would become my wife, a wonderful woman named Amber. But on nights like these, when I'm lying in the dark alone, I can almost see him standing again in the doorways. My wrist starts to burn, and when I glance down at it, I can once again

make out the symbol that's been burned into me, the symbol of the demon of the beyond, the symbol of my fate. And on nights like these, I appreciate the second chance I've been given, but I can't help but wonder at the cost of it that I have yet to face. Thanks for listening. If you're tuning in on Apple Podcast, please take a minute to leave a review. Your review directly helps the podcast grow and allows me to continue coming out with the best horror stories on the internet. Thank you so much. Lazangue sur-gely,

puissance-molyne, for 15 minutes. We're like it's the hour of dojo. Prere to enjoy? Vive the pleasure with the Ojo. The casino in-line that proposes the more recent machine-assoo and some

of games-to-cassin-Dazons. Profite of 50 tours on Big Bas Bonanza without exigance of misgents and with payments instantane. Hey, I've gained. Woo-hoo! Sentire the pleasure.

Play-O-Jo. 18-8-year-posed only, excluents in Ontario. 50 tours gratu on the machine to sub-Begbas Bonanza. Depos minimum of $10. Veillard to be in a fashion responsible.

The conditions apply.