Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - Illuminati Bowling League

Episode Date: July 6, 2022

🎧 Check out my new True Crime podcast called Crimehub. Just search Crimehub in the search bar to find it. 🎉 Ad-free episodes + bonus episodes: https://www.patreon.com/drnosleep 🎥 YouTube:��https://youtube.com/c/DrNoSleep ✅ Send all advertising inquiries to: [e-mail] Author: Jordan Grupe Website: http://jordangrupe.com/ New Book Release: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08M3ZHK1L/ref=cm_sw_r_awdo_G7796479F48T86Z6ECQN 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

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We hardly do ritual human sacrifices anymore. And as much as we'd like to say we run the worldwide shadow government, who are we kidding? Nobody tells those guys what to do. It's like herding cats. So we're stuck doing a weekly bowling league, monthly meetings, and a bi-weekly pancake breakfast.

There are bake sales, barbecues. And of course you can't forget Tuesday night bingo. All of this held in strict secrecy, of course. It's basically like your local rotary club, minus the ethics, goodwill, and humanitarian efforts. We're only in it for ourselves. No proceeds go to charity. It was because of our newly founded Inner Society Bowling League

that I discovered a disturbing thing had happened. The worshipful master of the local chapter of the Freemasons had gone missing. Yep. Just disappeared in the middle of the night, according to his wife. The way she tells it, the place was locked up tight and nobody could come in or out. It just doesn't make any sense. The sound of bowling balls crashing into pins was loud in the background, drowning out the man's voice.

But I got the idea. The disappearance sounded like a complete mystery. Has he ever left like this before? Does he have a mistress or some girlfriend he might have run off with? Anything's possible, I guess. But it's just not like him. And Dave's his best friend. And he says he hasn't heard a word from him.

He didn't take his wallet or his cell phone with him. Carol, that's his wife. She reported him missing to the police the same day. But he still hasn't shown up. Damn, I said nervously. I hope they find him. The worshipful master was the highest rank that could be given to a Masonic Lodge officer. It was beyond strength.

for him to just go missing without any mention to his other officers or to his family. Our pizza and beer had just been delivered, and it wasn't proper for me to be conversing with the other secret societies for too long. So I excused myself to go back to my group. I told the others what I just found out, much to their surprise. The worshipful master was a powerful, rich, well-known man in our city. And like all of us, he was supposed to be untouchable. untouchable. It didn't sit right with any of us that he'd gone missing. Most of us could barely

bowl better than a 150 that night, as shook up as we were. The next day I saw in the newspaper that the worshipful master was still missing. His face was plastered on the front page, and there were soon posters going up all over town, accompanied by the following text. Missing, presumed alive, large cash reward for tips. Whoever had taken him would be sweating bullets. Still, as the days passed, he wasn't found, and the worshipful master of the city's Masonic Lodge remained missing. The next Thursday night we were back at Bowling League again, this time facing off with the local chapter of the Elks. Again, I found myself speaking casually with a guy from the opposing team as we stood in line, waiting for our pitchers of beer at the bar.

The crashing noises of pins being struck by heavy bowling balls was loud in the background once again. And this time, they had glow in the dark bowling. So our teeth and all of the lint and dandruff on our shirts were glowing a dull green as we spoke. Did you hear about our exalted ruler going missing? The man asked in a hushed tone. He was supposed to be here today, but nobody's seen him. Seriously? Don't you think that's a little strange? Especially considering, Yeah, tell me about it. I'm just hoping he's okay. We'll be praying to the dark one for his safe return. You must be getting a bit worried, the guy said, eyeing me nervously. As most wise sovereign of the local Illuminati chapter, I was also lodge leader for our city's organization. If someone out there was targeting secret society leaders,

I would be next on their list. Sure, there was also the Knights Templar, the OTO, the order of the unblinking eye and a few others, but they were small potatoes compared to us. I went back to my bowling buddies and told them we would need to prepare for the worst, and I asked them how we could beef up my security. If somebody was going to come for me, they would have to put up a fight at the very least. Unless, of course, they snuck up on me as I was putting my bowling ball in the trunk of my car that night, when everybody else was busy admiring a hot rod in the parking lot, Which is exactly what happened.

I felt a sharp pain in my spine, and a jolt like lightning ran through my entire body. My knees gave out from under me, and I fell hard to the ground, smacking my jaw against the car's back bumper on the way down. The pavement scratched my face as someone began to pull me by my feet towards another vehicle, caveman style. They stopped behind a black SUV and opened the trunk, then looked down at me. I mumbled through broken teeth, looking up at the masked figure standing over me.

A boot came down hard on my face, and everything went dark. When I woke up, I was in a basement. I could tell by the boarded windows up high on the wall to my left, letting in the faintest trace of light. There was a mildew smell I associated with underground spaces and a dank, cold feeling in the air. A moment later, after opening my eyes, I tried to move around, but found a mildew smell. myself unable. I was tied to a hard wooden chair with coarse abrasive rope. The knots were tight, holding me securely in place. Help! I screamed, raising my voice as loud as I could. It echoed in the space all around me, but there was no sign of anybody outside having heard it.

Keep your voice down. Nobody's coming for you. Someone said in a hoarse whisper. Who's there? Let me out of here. I have money. I can pay you. He's not interested in your money. Another voice said, barely audible from the other side of the room. He only wants your secrets. I was about to ask them more when the door to the room was unlocked and opened, a harsh white light spilling in. The three of us blinked our eyes, and as I got a glimpse of the men around me, I realized they were the missing leaders from the Elks and the Masons.

Of course! A gargantuan man was in the doorway, blocking the light with his huge body. He stood at least seven feet tall. with broad shoulders and a gut that overhung his belt. He reminded me of Ed Kemper, a similarly giant man who was known for his career as a serial killer, a man capable of doing tremendous evil without a second thought, and with the physical attributes to match his enormous, twisted ego.

Good, you're awake, he said, grabbing the back of my chair and flipping at 180 degrees with barely any effort, despite the fact that I was still sitting in it. He turned and began to drag me, out of the room, the chair legs squealing loudly as they caught against the rough stone floor. The man slammed the door shut behind us and let me sit for a minute in the light, so that my eyes could adjust and so that I could stew and become more and more nervous. He had some talent as an interrogator. I could tell that already about him.

Once a sufficient amount of time had passed, he lit a cigarette and began to ask his questions. Where is the safe and what is the combination? I shook my head, pretending not to know what he was talking about. He blew smoke in my face. Where is the safe and what is the combination? He repeated. There is no safe. We're a religious group.

We do weekly bowling leagues, pancake breakfasts. Do you want to join? Is that what this is about? I can get you in. I have influence at the highest levels. He took the cigarette from his mouth and brought it down onto my hand, letting the ember sink slowly into my flesh. It felt like a hot iron on my skin, the pain going on and on, building into a crescendo

of agony, until finally the butt dizzled out, and I felt a sickening moment of relief. But then a moment later, the pain returned again, ten times worse, and I screamed until my lungs were out of air, my throat ragged, and my voice hoarse. Once I had finally settled down, he repeated the question. Where is the safe? And what is the combination? His voice betrayed no hint of impatience or empathy, as I denied him his answers again and again.

Each time I denied knowledge of a safe, he made the subsequent torture worse. I don't know! I screamed, and he casually removed my index finger with a cigar cover. Then repeated his questions. We don't have a safe. I'm telling you. He gouged out my eye with a knife,

digging the point in deeper and deeper until he gained purchase, then popped it out of its socket like a stubborn, drained look. Then he cut the eyeball from its connective tissues and tendons, licking the knife clean with his tongue afterwards. Finally, he broke from his routine, after hours of interrogation, once I was missing several toes and ear

and chunks of flesh from all over my body. You think I don't know about how your secret, secret societies run the planet, controlling everything behind the scenes. You think I don't know about the one-world shadow government, the CEOs, and mega corporations all working together to bring your hideous plans to fruition? I opened my mouth to speak when he held the knife up to my face, running the blade down my cheek as my heart pounded faster. One more lie, and I cut your tongue out.

Then you write your bullshit answers on a piece of paper with what things? fingers you have left. By the way, are you a righty or a lefty? Just so I know which hand to leave partially intact. This pushed me over the edge. I had sworn a blood oath to protect our secrets, sure, but I was also bleeding really badly. And that blood packed wouldn't mean shit if I ran out of the stuff. At least, that's what my dizzy, confused mind told me. I guessed he had also injected me with some sort of truth serum while I was sleeping, since I began speaking secret truths as if they were no big deal. I'm right-handed, I said first.

And if you must know, the safe is in my office hidden beneath the floorboards. The combination is one, two, three, four. There's nothing in there except old playboys and some half-empty liquor bottles, though. Oh, and our ancient, sacred doctrine. He wrote this down, asking another question quickly before whatever drug he'd fed me wore off. Your society demands belief in a higher power. Which higher power do you really believe in? We worship the dark one.

I began. Same as all the other secret societies. We pretend to be all Christian and shit. But really, we worship Satan. He began to write this down. Then shook his head and threw away the notepad. I knew it. He looked disappointed for some reason.

Okay. What about the shadow government? There is a shadow government. government, right? A one-world organization working behind the scenes? Sure, but they're incompetent, just like the regular government, twice as ineffectual as well, since they can blame any failure on their need to remain anonymous. Besides, looking more and more disappointed with each truthful answer I gave him. What about all the CEOs and world leaders? Aren't they all part of the organization? You must exert some sort of influence. In theory,

I answered. But in reality, those bastards are as greedy as they come. They're looking out for themselves, not the organization. Our monthly meeting attendance is down 80% from last year. And hardly anyone comes to Bingo Night anymore. So you really are just a boring social group? Pretty much. We're always looking for talented new members for special assignments, though.

And there are benefits to joining the organization. There are many perks, which you would find. find out about if you untied me. He thought about this for a few minutes. Okay, I can tell you're not lying. Just don't tell anybody on the conspiracy message boards about this. I really need that community, man. I can't tell them about any of this. It would break their hearts. Deal, I said, as enthusiastically as I could under the circumstances. My gaze traveled down to the eyeball in the table. Oh yeah, he said, seeing me look at it. Sorry about that. I'm not sure the doctors can do anything about that.

Maybe you could throw it in a bag of ice, just in case? Sure, no problem. After untying me, we went into the other room where the chapter leaders of the masons and the Elks were sitting, still tied up. I'm not really sure what to do with these guys, the man said. They weren't as cooperative as you, even after the truth serum. Maybe I just didn't use enough. I was only half listening, already looking for the exit. Oh, you can kill those guys if you want.

I said over their screaming objections. It would actually really help us out. They're both fantastic bowlers.