Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - In my town, you don't look out of your windows at night...

Episode Date: December 2, 2020

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In my town, you don't look out of your window at night. Ever since I was a toddler, my parents would always tell me, don't look out the window at night. I always asked them why, but they shrugged it off with a smile and a simple, because. As I got older, I stopped questioning it and did what they said. I assumed it was normal everywhere else, since every person I knew did the same.

When I turned 18, I moved out of town for college. It was during Christmas break of my second year when I found out the reason behind the town's strange tradition. The first night of my parents' house, I remember them telling me not to look out the window. I gave a smile and a small chuckle before telling them I wouldn't. However, curiosity struck me the moment they left the room.

At college, other people looked out their windows at night without a care in the world. I didn't know what the big deal was. As I lay in the dark, I came to a decision. I would look out the window. It wasn't that big of a deal. Just as my hand came to the sheer white curtain of the guest room, I paused. My mind flashed to that one time when I was 12.

My parents were talking in the kitchen. I was home with the flu and was about to make my way to the sink for some water, but I stopped at the doorway. I hid behind the wall, peeking my head out from the doorway just an inch. My mother was crying, and my father was holding her and rocking. That poor little girl, I feel horrible for her family, whispered my mother. My father just nodded and continued holding her. I went back to my room after that.

Several hours later, my dad came up to my room with several two-by-fours and boarded up my windows. What are you doing that for, Dad? I asked him. Oh, it's nothing. Just safety reasons, he replied. I learned at school the next day that a little girl, a classmate's sister, was found dead the previous morning. The window broken and curtains torn. My hand drew back from the curtain. I shook my head, cursing myself for being so weird. What was the worst that could happen? It was just a window. It couldn't hurt me. As I reached my hand out again, my instinct was telling, no, shouting at me to stop. My gut twisted as I reached nearer and near. Just as I touched the curtain,

a painful howl came from the forest surrounding the house. I flinched back, deciding just to lay down and try to get some sleep. I forgot how hard it was to get sleep in my hometown. Every night, coyotes howled for hours, everywhere in town. The next night, I woke up in a cold sweat. I glanced over at the alarm clock next to my bed. It was midnight. I groaned and sat up in bed.

A low growling sounded from outside of my bedroom window. I thought back to last night and decided that I had made up my mind about looking out. I thrusted my arm towards the curtain and pulled back hard, almost ripping it away from the rod. I flattened myself against the wall next to the bed for a moment before I put one eye in front of the window. I immediately regretted my decision as I heard claws clacking up the house. I flung myself out of bed, tumbling on the floor.

I stood up and got back up on the bed. I stuck my face closer to the window as the clacking got closer and closer. It suddenly stopped for a second before the most horrible creature popped up from outside, emitting a horrible shriek as it did so. I can never forget its face. the way the hollow eyes oozed to some kind of black substance like tar, and the way its lips were pulled back into a gruesome grin, the teeth blood-stained and razor-sharp. It looked like it had four limbs, its front two slamming on the glass and pounding.

As I was frozen in front of the window in terror, my parents burst into the room. My father held a shotgun. He marched up to my bed and yanked me away from the window. He pointed his shotgun at the creature, shooting a bullet at it. The thing! Scramble away, leaving the window almost. completely shouted. Damn it, son, it was a simple task. Just don't look out the window. How hard is that? My dad shouted at me. I wasn't processing his words. I was sitting on the floor. Arms and legs

splayed everywhere in utter shock. What the hell had I just seen? My mother ran to the bedroom door. She had tears in her eyes. Is everyone all right? She asked. Yeah, we're fine. We still got to get that creepy fucking monster, though. Nathan, get up. We got some work to do, my dad said. I got up as soon as I could. My dad thrust the shotgun into my arms and marched downstairs. He opened the basement door and descended, coming back with a machete and some kind of spray bottle. He sprayed the liquid onto the machete before walking to the front door and wait.

What are you doing? I asked, confused. I was just traumatized. And now my dad is waiting at the door? Machete in hand like he was about to kill someone. Instead of a response, my dad just hushed me. The house was quiet for several seconds. were loud banging and howling came at the front door. We heard a rip, and we knew the screen door was no more.

The wood of the interior door started to splinter, and I took a few steps backward. My dad cleared at me. Nathan, now is not the time for this. Point the goddamn gun and get ready to shoot! I aimed the gun at the door, trying to find the spot where the howling was coming from. The door was strong, but it wasn't indestructible. The creature burst through the door, and I pulled the trigger in a moment of terrified panic. My dad knelt down and brought his machete down on the abomination.

head. The howling ceased, and my mom rushed forward with a tarp to cover the spot where the door was destroyed. Honey, are you okay? My mom asked for the second time that night. She came up to me and kissed my cheeks, as if to make sure I was still there. She went over to my dad and did the same. We're okay, Martha, both of you. Get in the basement. I got to clean this up. Basement? Why the basement? I asked. Everything was going by at the speed of light, and I couldn't help but question everything that was happening in the moment. Let's just get in the basement. Your father needs to clean up, my mom said, grabbing my arm and pulling me to the basement. We sat on the couch down there for what seemed like hours before my dad came in and put the machete up. He sat on the chair in front of us with an

exhausted sigh. The three of us sat in silence for a few minutes. In that time span, my brain was able to come up with a coherent sentence. Dad, what was that thing? He just looked up at me, eyes dark, and said, where do you think that howling came from? Lazangue sur-gely, puissance-molyne for 15 minutes. We're like it's their dojo. Pre-a-jou? Vive the pleasure with Leojo.

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