Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - Skinwalker Ranch Billionaire

Episode Date: May 9, 2022

🎉 Ad-free episodes + bonus episodes: https://www.patreon.com/drnosleep 🎧 Check out The SCP Experience podcast here: https://spoti.fi/3zCFjQc 🎥 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

The dark room was filled with the whirring sounds of hard drives and the pale blue glow of computer monitors. An occasional burst of static from one of the walkie-talkies at the charging station would break the silence between me and the other security guard, who was trying unsuccessfully to keep his eyes open. Doesn't anything interesting ever happen around here? I asked Peter, my new supervisor. I mean, I figured most of the rumors were bogus, but isn't anything about this place real?

Skinwalkers, glowing orbs? You gotta have a few stories at least. He had his feet up on the desk in the security office, and several dozen monitors showing different camera angles of the property were arranged before us. The billionaire who owned the ranch had spared no expense trying to capture the paranormal presences of Skinwalker Ranch on camera. But so far from what I understood, he had been completely unsuccessful. You watched one too many history channel specials, kid, he said, barely opening his eyes to look at me.

I realized he was falling asleep. There's nothing here but a rich guy with too much cash and an army of underpaid acolytes like you and me. Busting our asses to document a whole lot of nothing. So what's with the body armor? And the tasers and all the safety equipment? I'm surprised they don't have us packing heat with all this stuff we have strapped us. We looked like SWAT officers, which was completely ridiculous considering our job descriptions, mostly involved eating boxed lunches and trying not to bore ourselves to death.

Dude, shut up and quit asking so many questions. One day the old man will get wise that ET ain't coming, but until then, just enjoy the gravy train, okay? I grunted an agreement and sat watching the monitors as Peter began to snore. Looking at the time, I saw it was past 3 a.m. Only another four hours until the morning shift arrived. This was the hardest time of the night to stay awake. I needed another cup of coffee, or I would soon be asleep like Peter, and at least one of us had to keep an eye out for the boss.

There was no way of knowing when the old eccentric billionaire would come wandering over for a look at the video feeds, and to make sure his hired goons were bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. He'd been known to pop in for surprise visits. Since I needed the job and couldn't afford to lose it, I decided a fresh cup of coffee was an order. I snuck out of the security office and went into the adjoining room where a single-serve coffee machine was plugged in on a counter beside a mini-fridge.

Yawning, I stuck a pod in and snapped the mechanism closed, pressing the button for a large coffee. The machine began to chug and click and gurgle, before spitting out some hot, steaming black brew. Taking the cup with me back into the security office, I was unsurprised to find Peter still snoring. I blew on my coffee and sat back down, looking at the monitors with forced open eyes.

Something caught my attention on the monitor to my right. The barn door was swinging open, slapping against the adjoining wall in the strong wall. wind. It wasn't open before. Peter, wake up. Why is the barn door open? I had to shake him a few times and ask him the question again. But eventually he blinked his eyes open long enough to peer at the monitor. Boss man's probably out there polishing the ATVs or something. Why do you care? If there was a perimeter breach, it would have set off an alarm. Cleaning the four-wheelers at 3 a.m.? Why would he do that? Peter opened his eyes up all the way.

Yeah, you're right. It could be a test. He likes to do that sometimes to make sure we're not sleeping on the job. You go out there, newbie. I'll stay here and watch the feeds. He put his shirt over his eyes, and I could hear him resume snoring a moment later. If it was the boss out there,

I wasn't going to cover for Peter, I thought to myself. This guy was useless. It seemed like he didn't know the first thing about property protection or security procedures. I was worried if something really did happen, he'd be useless, or would do more harm than good in a crisis. But luckily, we were on a farm out in the middle of nowhere. Besides, nothing bad had ever happened at Skinwalker Ranch, despite its reputation. Or so I thought. As I made my way out through the hallways of the farmhouse, which had been converted into a

makeshift security compound. I found myself feeling nervous. Something about this wasn't right. The idea that the boss was out in the barn at 3 a.m., testing our preparedness, didn't jive with me. But I supposed it was possible. Stepping out into the cool night air, I looked across the driveway at the barn, not more than 100 yards away. The noise of the untethered door banging against the wood could be heard loudly now and sounded to my ears like an omen of evil. A fat orange moon hung low in the sky. Its awful gravity pulling me towards the blood-red building. I found myself standing before the open door, the smell of hay wafting out from inside. Close the door and go back to the security office, I thought suddenly. Whatever you do, don't step foot inside that barn.

It's cursed. It's evil. Stay out. A voice started murmuring from the shadows inside, as if in agreement. It sounded like a man, but their tones were hushed and quiet, difficult to understand. Who's in there? I called out, taking my flashlight from my belt and shining it into the barn. No one answered. Peter, come in, I said into the radio. But as soon as the words escaped my lips, the walkie-talkie made a painful, high-pitched squeal of feedback. then clicked loudly and was dead.

Hello? I said again into the useless device. There was no response, and I had no way of knowing if he'd heard me or not. It's probably just the boss trying to catch us slacking off, I thought to myself, considering what Peter had said earlier. I would simply go inside and turn on the light. Then the rich owner would give me a pat on the back from my prompt action and response to the practice scenario. With that thought firmly in mind, I entered the barn, my heart pounding. My body knew what my mind had not yet realized, that I was in terrible danger. When I got inside the barn, the huge wooden door slammed shut behind me, and I knew I was in trouble. The murmuring, chanting thing in the darkness, continued its deliberate cadence as I turned and tried to get out,

clawing at the door and trying desperately to pull it open. One of my fingernails broke off and began to bleed, but I didn't notice that until later, as the adrenaline was pumping through my veins. A moment later the door itself disappeared. Its edges dissolved into the surrounding wood, and I backed away from it, terrified, looking up at where it had been a moment before.

Such a thing was impossible, and yet it had just happened before my eyes. I was trapped. Spinning around, I saw the thing in the shadows, still chanting, and now swaying back and forth. Its silhouette in the darkness reminded me of a shaman mixed with a wolfman, holding a wand or a scepter of some kind. The head of the scepter rattled and made awful, fleshy sounds like teeth being shook in a sack made of skin. I tried not to listen to the things the creature was saying, as the words felt like worms crawling through my ears and into my gray matter, invading my face. thoughts. It was like an itch that I couldn't scratch, like a dozen black flies crawling on my brain

where I couldn't get to them with my fingers, taking occasional bites, and sampling the local cuisine inside my skull. Get out of my head! I heard myself scream, but the wicked chanting continued. The language was ancient and unknowable. Clutching my skull, that horrible, itching sensation of something warming its way into my mind continued, undeterred by my protests. I looked around and saw other dark forms were in the barn with me. They looked like shadows at first, moving along the ground like dark puddles, spreading outwards from a surrounding oil spill. But then the things began to take shape and rise up, shedding their two-dimensional forms

and turning into humanoid beings with pitch-black features. The shadow creatures moved slowly and deliberately. Their mouths yawning open as they approached me with curious faces. Their features were black holes within their dark forms. They reached out towards me as the chanting thing in the corner raised up its hands like a preacher in a demonic prayer service, its voice rising higher and higher in volume. Red-painted walls all around me began to drip and bleed,

revealing ancient, druidic symbols which were carved deep into the wood underneath. Suddenly, the entire barn felt like a living thing, as if I was inside the belly of some great, horrible beast. which was inhaling and exhaling all around me. It was hot in the barn and humid, despite the chill of the night air outside. The temperature was rising quickly, causing sweat to pour from my head, running into my eyes and making them sting with pain as the shadow creatures started to inspect me more closely. Each one took its turn leaning in close, running its oily hands over me and judging me somehow.

They made whispering noises back and forth, and a few took sample bites of me with shadowy mouths, leaving oddly non-bleeding wounds in my flesh. I cried out in pain each time, and it seemed like they were shushing me as they raised up their extremities to my face with every noise I made. For some reason, I found myself obliging.

Finally, one of them seemed to settle on taking me for themselves, as the chatter between the shadow creature stopped, and it smiled broadly, looking pleased with itself. The creature resembled a black panther about to pounce as it leaned in towards me. It looked as if it was preparing to dive into my mouth to make a home inside my body permanently when the huge wooden barn door, which had previously vanished, crashed in behind me. Glaring spotlights filled the space, and I looked around to see the shadow things were dispersing.

The shaman creature in the corner who had been chanting in wicked tones made a circular motion with his wand, and a dark hole appeared in the wall, which he perceived. proceeded to exit through. It disappeared a second later, closing tightly behind him. Looking around, I saw the barn around me was no longer painted bright red. It was old and run down, dilapidated and out of use. The ceiling was broken and sagging, revealing stars through a gaping hole up above. What the hell are you doing in here, kid? One of the security guards was asking me, You're not supposed to be in here. Nobody's allowed in this building.

It's not safe. But Peter told me to go check it out. He was sleeping. I... I never told you to go in here. I haven't seen you since you disappeared earlier, said Peter, stepping out from behind the other guard. You're lucky these guys came to check in here after hearing you screaming.

This building is off limits. Can't you see it's ready to fall down any second? But I was with you just ten minutes ago. You said, don't put words in my mouth, kid, and don't make up stories. I didn't tell you to do anything. I turned around and you were gone. I figured you went home, to be honest, thought maybe this job wasn't for you. I stuttered, unsure what to say, or how to respond to this.

I was sure Peter had told me to go out to the barn to check it out. Was I remembering wrong? Was I really that tired? Or had I been spending my shift with an imposter? How was I supposed to know what was true? Looks like we might have a 278, said one of the guards nervously. The skin walkers are back. Don't talk about them, snap the supervisor.

You know the rules. You talk about them, and that's when they show up. Everybody get inside. Now, buddy protocols. You need to go to the bathroom, take your buddy with you. You know the rules, Peter. We've got a code black by the sounds of. it. Everyone drew their weapons, and I saw these other guards had guns with odd, futuristic

attachments on the barrels, strange, translucent white pieces that looked like oversized silencers. I hadn't seen any of these people when I arrived for the first half of my training shift. It turned out they lived on the property and were paid handsomely to be on call to respond to any events as they occurred. You guys gotta be kidding. Skin-walkers, really? My supervisor asked as we hustled inside. Peter looked unimpressed by all that was happening, and I realized that he didn't believe in anything supernatural.

He was a die-hard skeptic of such things. Guys, come on, he said dryly. This is complete paranoia. The kid just had a panic attack or something. You don't really believe in this stuff, do you? Quiet. One of the heavily armed guards snarled at him. You don't know shit about what happens in this place.

You've only been here a month. The boss should have known better than to let you train the new guy. He could have gotten himself killed. I felt queasy and numb when he said that, realizing it was true. If they hadn't arrived when they did, who knew what might have happened? Peter didn't say another word.

Instead, he just made an annoyed sound and followed the rest of us as the formation began moving towards the door to the farmhouse. He stayed back a little ways, as if in protest. Just as we were about to enter the house, house. I heard him stop from a few yards away, muttering to himself. I paused to look back, stopping where I was in the doorway as the rest of the team went inside. I held the door open for him, hoping he would follow. But instead he began to yell in a loud, agitated voice. You're all a bunch of suckers. You know that? Skinwalkers? Really? This place is just a busted down

old ranch in the middle of nowhere. There's no curse. There's no monsters. Watch. turned around, facing the other direction. Oh, Skinwalkers! Come and get me! Look! Fresh meat for you, Skinwalkers! What? Aren't you hungry? Looking back at us, he smiled and then started laughing at all of us. See, there's nothing out here! He made a surprised sound and turned suddenly, just as something began to appear from the shadows. It was large and hulking, its form in inkblot, against a starless midnight sky. The sound it made was a sound had made was a deep growl like a territorial wolf, only much, much larger. Its legs were long and stilted,

giving it an unnatural look. Its fur was barren places, mangy and full of clumps and burrs. Nice doggy, Peter said, backing away, his hands extended outward defensively. That's not a dog! Get inside the damn house, now! screamed a voice from over my shoulder, deafening me. Several other dark shapes emerged from the periphery of my vision, crowding around Peter and surrounding him. He began to run, but it was too late. They leapt at him, knocking him to the ground with a brutal impact. It looked like a highlight football tackle,

his upper body being sent one direction, and then his legs were slammed into from the opposite angle, causing his body to contort and bend in two different ways. When he landed, he looked unable to breathe or speak, and I wondered if the wind had been knocked out of him, or if they'd broken his spine. I instinctively began to ran towards him, thinking I could save him. But one of the nearby guards grabbed my arm and pulled me back.

If not for that, I'd probably be dead. Squad! Firing positions! The guy in charge of the group yelled, and they all fell into formation. Meanwhile, the demon wolves were tearing Peter to pieces. One of them had its jaws around his face and was squeezing like a vice grip on his skull. The other one was shredding his torso with its teeth. Ready, aim, fire!

The group of pseudo-soldiers around me started unleashing semi-automatic rifle rounds into the hellhounds, each one tracing a green trajectory which streaked across the sky like tracer bullets. There was no immediate reaction from the beasts at first, and I thought they were making no impact. But then the dog-like creature started snapping and wincing at the bullets as they were grazed by them. Don't let up! Keep the pressure on! Instead of retreating, the shadow creature snarled and began to stalk towards the group of us. The bullets were doing little to stop their advance, as if they were being sprayed with water pistols. It merely seemed to annoy them further.

One left suddenly with lightning quick speed, pouncing on a guard nearby. He screamed as the thing started shredding his Kevlar, cutting through the protective gear like warm butter with its claws. Peter was no longer moving or breathing, and the remaining guards were quickly losing their courage. Fall back! The leader of them shouted, and I hustled inside, this time not even hesitating. We slammed the door shut and listened to the screams of the guards who didn't make it back inside. The creatures didn't kill them quickly, though.

Those who were left alive died slowly as the hellish wolves tortured them, making them scream for help in an attempt to draw us back outside to rescue them. After a while, I plugged my ears, unable to stand the sounds of their dying screams one moment longer. They didn't stop until the sun came up, and by then, the creatures were gone. You'd think there would be some evidence that one of the surveillance systems would have caught something, but the cameras showed nothing the next day. I saw the tapes myself. They showed nothing but a peaceful farm until about 3.30 a.m., when all of them went dead at the same exact instant. Authorities investigated the incident, and I gave a statement about what I'd seen. At least,

as accurate of a statement as I could, under the circumstances. The whole thing was written off as a wild animal attack, and once the dust settled, the whole team was let go, fired for our inaction during the event. Not that I ever wanted to go back there again anyways. I'll never forget what happened that day, and what the guard said about them showing up when you talk about them. So be careful if you hear this read aloud,

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