Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - Skull and Crossbones

Episode Date: July 4, 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

Lazang sur-gillet, Pugance-Moyerned 15 minutes. Oh, you'd say that's the hour Dojo? Prere to play. Vive the pleasure

with Leo Jo. The casino in-line that proposes the most recent machine to sue and the game of Casino in direct. Profite of 50 tours

on Big Bas Bonanza. Without exigance of misgene and with payments instantane. Hey, I've gained!

Woohoo! Sonture the pleasure. Play-O-Joh. 18 years, 1,000 depots only exclude in Ontario. 50 tours gratuys on the machine-assoubeck-baz-Bonanza.

Depos minimum of $10. Vealier to be in a fashion responsible. The conditions apply. College used to be fun, but it's been a real drag ever since my dad made me join the Illuminati. He's such a dick.

The Skoll and Crossbones's fraternity was always the plan. Sure. Just like Yale was always the plan. Then off to law school, joined Dad's firm after that, and be a partner by the time I turned 30. Big house, beautiful wife, two dogs and a kid.

Run for office, always win, and continue in daddy's footsteps. Those things were always the plan. But I didn't realize those guys in the secret society were going to be such dicks. Dad didn't warn me about any of it. Not even the really horrible shit. Well, I'm writing this to warn anybody out there who might be thinking of joining an elite secret society. It's not all it's cracked up. to be. In fact, it kind of sucks being in the Illuminati. I'll never forgive Dad for this,

even if I do become president, like he was. All that bullshit that happened to Pacey, sorry, Joshua Jackson. Let's just forget about all that right now. If you haven't seen the movie The Skulls, Circa 2000, don't waste your time. It's decent, don't get me wrong, but not even remotely realistic. I didn't get abducted and stuffed in a coffin, and I definitely didn't find any fancy skull pendants under my pillow. Nobody deposited $20,000 in my bank account overnight either, not that you bothered to ask. The whole thing was a big letdown in that way, but what actually happened during my initiation scared the living shit out of me, and I need to get it off my chest. It started off pretty simple. It was almost funny what they

wanted us to do. They were all acting like it was such a big deal, though, and I didn't realize why until later. Drink it! Steve, one of the seniors, was yelling from the pulpit, clad in a long brown, hooded robe. We were deep within the bowels of the Secret Society Stone Fortress-looking building, built hundreds of years prior, one of the oldest standing structures on Yale's campus. Steve's face was covered with a skull mask and dozens of others all over the world. around him had similar masks and robes on. At their feet were piles of old bones and skulls which had belonged to many famous generals and politicians throughout history, the pride of the organization and symbols of its name. What is this nasty shit you're making us drink? One of the guys named

Greg to the right of me asked. It smells like food coloring. It is the blood of our vanquished enemies. Now drink it and rejoice in their deaths. I sniffed the blood in the skull cap and began to raise it to my lips. I took a sip. It wasn't half bad. There, see? This one knows his place. They pointed at me and laughed while whispering to each other. Drink, foolish acolytes! The other recruits raised their own skull cups to their lips and started imbibing the strange red liquid.

Mine tasted a bit sweet, like pomegranate, with a strong, familiar flavor of of grain alcohol I remembered from a misguided experience back in high school. It definitely wasn't blood, though. After I finished it, I was immediately drunk. Judging by the swaying motion of the other recruits around me, they were as well. One of them vomited violently, and then another did the same. Their puke, staining the floor red. Good! Finish your drinks, Acolytes! Now march, forward! I was thoroughly confused by now, but it didn't matter. The dozens of us were ushered outside the courtyard. We were handed a shovel, and the seniors watched and yelled insults as we were forced to dig our own premature graves.

We each dug deeper and deeper, making coffin-shaped holes within the stone-fenced courtyard. I knew if I stopped, I would be cast out of the group. All the advantages I'd heard so much about would be forfeited, the money, fancy cars, women, and most importantly, the access to power. So I kept my head down and shoveled a perfect rectangle, excavating deeper and deeper down through the dirt and the clay beneath that. Eventually I noticed I was about seven feet down. I guess they snuck some amphetamines into that blood punch because I was wired.

Had enough yet? Someone yelled down at me from above. Yes, please. Can I come out now? He just laughed that started to shovel dirt onto me. It rained down in my eyes and into my nose and mouth. A cloud of dust started rising up around me, and I coughed violently. Stop, please. I can't breathe.

Another figure appeared above and started to shovel dirt onto me. I coughed harder and harder until my head ached and my lungs burned. Name of your first girlfriend, the voice asked, preparing another shovel full of dirt. What? I screamed, getting angry. Instead of answering, he dumped more dirt onto me, and I realized it was up to my knees. I tried to lift my legs, but couldn't.

Whatever drugs they had fed me were wearing off, and I felt exhausted from digging. Name of your first girlfriend, the man repeated. When I hesitated, he began to move the shuffle towards the hole again. Sarah! I screamed. Sarah Huntington! Good.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Did you have sex? sex with Sarah? What? I cried, angered again. How dare they ask me these questions, I thought. Don't they know who my father is? Another shovel full of dirt came from above,

rocks and pebbles hitting my face. And then two more. The cloud of dust was so thick I coughed and hacked painfully until I almost threw up. Then realized I was up to my waist and fresh dirt. Did you have sex with Sarah? The voice repeated. More insistently this time,

another shovel full of dirt. Already prepared. Yes. She was my first, you know, and I was hers, I think. At least she told me I was. Some of the guys said she was just humoring me, but... Enough. A superfluous shovel full of dirt was thrown onto me.

More out of annoyance than anything else. Who else have you lain with, Akelyte? Their names, and phone numbers if you still have them. Another shovel full of dirt was thrown on to me, as I sputtered something in confusion. Finally. After several hours of questioning, the dirt was up to my neck. I was sure I was going to die down there.

My heart pounding with fear every time a question was asked, my answer is now coming out of my mouth as quickly as possible. My mind was racing and my entire body was quivering with fear, flinching every time the man above moved his shovel in his hands. That brings us to today, he said. And I realized we were at the end of my life story. Every single embarrassing secret from my past had been laid bare on the table. I could barely breathe, gasping for air, terrified as the seniors above prepared another shovel

full of dirt and dumped it on top of me, then another and another, until I was completely buried alive. More scared than I'd ever been in my life, unable to breathe. I reached up through the loose soil, trying to grasp the lips. of the grave so I could pull myself out. I just barely managed to grab hold of it and pulled upwards with all of my strength. I'd never been good at pull-ups,

but now is the time to do the most important one of my life. Struggling against the weight of the dirt above, my arms numb from digging. I desperately pulled myself up out of the grave, the grass. I coughed and hacked up gray-brown phlegm and laid wheezing on the ground. Exhausted, my entire body covered in dust. When I stood up, I realized that the other recruits graves were filled in as well, but several

of them had not made it out. We were now down by four new members. I never saw those guys again. That was the worst of it for a while, but there were several more phases of initiation, and I never knew when things were going to get really dark and terrifying again. I had to get into a coffin naked and stay in there for a while, big deal. We had to stay in a cemetery crypt overnight, and the seniors tortured us occasionally, acting like ghosts. At least, I think it was the seniors. Still, we managed to get through it.

We had to eat worms and millipedes and wash them down with tequila, and we had to endure all the other typical frat house bullshit you'd expect from a hazing process. Paddles to the ass, drink till you puke, bend over backwards for the frat brothers, especially the seniors, and generally kiss ass until you get through it. I'd expected more from the skull and crossbone society, but it was turning out just to be a regular fraternity like all the others. At least, so I thought, that was until we got to Deer Island. This place used to be pretty badass from what I've heard. Nowadays, it's more of a scrap heap. Steve, the senior leading the retreat, was saying from the seat in front of me. We were on a motorboat with a half-dozen other pledges who had made it through the first

stages of the initiation process. The water was cool as it sprayed my face with mist. Although the weather forecast had predicted clear skies, it was overcast and the water was choppy, causing us to bounce up and down with the motion of the waves. Why are we going out here if it's so bad? You'll see. It's a good. It's a bit. It's a an important part of the tradition. If we skipped it, we'd be in a lot of trouble. Trouble from who? Steve just turned his head away and looked off into the distance. His eyes glazed over as if he no longer heard me. We pulled up to the dock a few minutes later, and Steve seemed to return to reality, blinking his eyes and smiling as he led us off the boat

towards a ramshackle cottage. When we got inside, it looked sparse, and uninviting cobwebs clung to the ceiling in the corners, festooning the pots and pans hanging in the kitchen. I saw a mouse scurry across the floorboards, ducking into a hole in the wall. I pulled a cord connected to a bare light bulb above us in the living room, and it snapped in half, the light remaining dim. This is it? Greg asked, sounding unimpressed. Where's the bathroom? Steve pointed outside to an outhouse and he groaned, waddling off towards the squat, wooden building what's his name again Steve asked me I was starting to become his number one pledge and was surprised he seemed to be taking a shine to me I couldn't say

the same for my friend his name's Greg I said feeling strangely guilty that guy complains about everything I heard he's never been out of the city you've been camping before though right oh hell yeah I used to be a Boy Scout when I was a kid and my parents have a little fishing cabin up north. Looks a little bit like this, actually. We've got an outhouse, too. No running water, no electricity. Just a shack in the woods, more or less. Kind of like this place, I thought, but didn't say out loud. Well, you'll be right at home then. Come on, everybody, I'll show you around. There isn't much to see, but it's the only place in the world where we can do the final

initiation ceremony. It's going to be really cool. We all looked at each other dubiously. And I glanced back to see Greg pulling up his pants as he ran from the outhouse, screaming about bats and spiders and the size of squirrels. We sat around the wood stove in the living room, drinking blood cocktails. It was raining outside, and thunder was now booming loudly overhead, causing us to cancel our plans for a bonfire. Instead, we sat around listening to the seniors tell odd, cryptic stories which were clearly not their own creations. They were reading from an old book bound with ragged leather.

A screaming face was carved into the front of it, reminding me of the necronomicon from Evil Dead. I got the impression that these stories had been adapted from one's written centuries prior. I imagined students just like me, hundreds of years ago, listening to these stories in these same woods, on this same island, and felt a chill run through my bones. Steve began wrapping up the story, and I listened intently, trying not to be distracted. I got the feeling all of the details would be important later on. I'm not sure why I felt this way, but everything had been a test up until this point,

and part of me felt like we were still being tested. Maybe now, as the story finished, Steve set the book down and looked around at all of us. We gather here tonight as skulls, old and neat. new, to share our wisdom and our traditions with you, new inductees, into the order of the skull and cross-brones fraternity. This island acts as a conduit to the dark powers which we will call upon to give us our power, and the secrets of this place must remain within the confines of this organization. What happens on Deer Island stays on Deer Island.

Is that understood? We all nodded our heads in agreement, except for Greg. who looked half asleep. He was staring out the window, looking at the rain. The two of us had become friends during the initiation trials, and I elbowed him as discreetly as possible, trying to get his attention. Huh? What?

He let out, jumping in his seat. Oh, sorry. I guess I wasn't paying attention. I put my face in my hands, knowing that was the worst possible thing he could say at that moment. You weren't paying attention. So you didn't hear any of what I just said, Steve asked. His face a mask of calm. No.

Sorry, man. Could you just kind of sum it up? Give me the cliff's notes? Steve and the other seniors just stared at him blankly. Greg chuckled nervously. Don't worry. Greg, was it? Greg nodded his head.

Don't worry about it, Greg. We'll have a presentation later this evening. For those of you who require more of a visual. teaching method. Now, drink up everyone. Refills coming around. The seniors were suddenly all smiles again. Their white teeth showing as they handed out fresh skull goblets filled to the brim with blood-colored liquid. I saw one of them take a cup and deliberately hand it to Greg, after keeping it set aside from the others. I noticed this, and it reminded me of a spy movie where someone was about to be poisoned. But Greg didn't see a thing, since he immediately started guzzling from the cup once he received it.

I elbowed him in the ribs the second he put it to his lips, causing him to spill it all over himself. What the hell, dude? He muttered angrily under his breath, wiping his shirt with his hand. Here's a fresh one, Steve said, quickly replacing it, then giving me a meaningful glare. Greg seemed to get my message. His sips from the cup were nervous and small, with a trembling lip. His eyes were wide and darted around the room anxiously, and I began to get nervous too, wondering if I would be in trouble for what I'd just done.

You too have become such good friends, Steve said, his face flat and his voice emotionless. You can take the lead in this next part of the festivities. He motioned for the two of us to go to the front of the room. We followed his directions, moving away from the fire and into the shadows at the far end of the room. It was cold in this dark area, away from the warmth of the fire, and I got an eerie feeling like something was right behind me in the shadows. I looked over my shoulder nervously, but there was nothing behind us, just an old chair, a table, and an unlit kerosene lamp. Now it's your turn, Steve said from across the room. The two of you must retell the story

I just told you. Your futures with the organization depend on your abilities to remember the tale of the initiate. Now, speak it truly, and do not misremember a single word, or you will meet the same fate as he did. Surely they were kidding, I thought. It would be impossible to repeat the whole story from memory. Still, I needed to try. The new initiate was very scared when he began to dig his own grave, but he told himself it would be okay. All of his brothers would make sure he got out alive, as long as he was true to the code. Very good, Steve said, nodding. You nailed it. I'm impressed. Now it's your turn, Greg. My friend was looking very nervous, wringing his hands together and clearing his throat repeatedly. Finally, he began to speak. I could tell right away it wasn't going to go well.

the new initiate. The new initiate dug the grave, and then the older guy started asking him real embarrassing questions about his sex life and all kinds of stuff like that. Greg had the general thread of the story correct, but the wording was way off. And now he had stopped mid-paragraph

and was uncertain how to continue. Shadow father, do you deem these initiates worthy? Steve asked. His hands out to a little. his sides, palms raised upwards like an evangelical preacher. Suddenly, the kerosene lamp behind his flickered to life, the flame rising high and up out of the glass dome at the top. The old-fashioned lamp's glass began to turn black and cracked with the heat, before the flame began to finally die down to an appropriate height. The room was bathed in flickering shadows which cast an eerie glow on the

proceedings. I noticed there was now a man sitting in the chair beside the lamp, a book on his lap, which looked exactly like the one Steve had been reading from. A disembodied face on the cover, resembling a mummified's man's visage mid-scream. This one I deem worthy, said the wrinkled, shadow-obscured face of the man in the chair, pointing towards me. But this other one, his words are not fit for the book of souls. What will be done with him, Shadowfather? The group of seniors asked in unison. Their blank faces, showing no emotion. As with any initiate who makes it to dear island, but cannot pass the test, he cannot be allowed to leave. His skin will bind a new book, one which contains his imperfect words.

It will be housed forever in the shadow library. The man in the chair stood up, and when he did, I saw he was not a man at all. His body was made of oily darkness. He reached out his hands, and without even touching Greg, I saw him begin to rip the flesh from his bones. Greg screamed as a force stronger than tornado winds, began to pull his skin, deforming it, and causing it to tear away from his muscles and ligaments.

A dark wind rushed through the cabin. The lanterns flickered, and papers were tossed into the air. The pictures on the walls rattled, and the furniture shook with the force. of that thing as it tore Greg's flesh from him in one piece. He collapsed on the floor in a bloody heap, leaking his bodily fluids out onto the wooden plants beneath him. The Shadow Father looked pleased,

fashioning a new book from the darkness around him and binding it with the flesh of my dead friend. The cover was made up of his screaming face, looking just as it had when he was killed. Now, bring the next initiate forward, Steve said. motioning for one of the seniors to bring another pledge up to stand beside me. I tried to walk back to my seat to get away from this horrible ritual. But as soon as I took one step, I heard the raspy voice of the Shadowfather behind me

and felt his cold, dark hand on my shoulder. I cringed and pulled away, as if touched by a snake. He just smiled at this and sat back down. Stay, he said dryly. You wanted to help your friend, even though you knew he wasn't good enough. Now, you can stay and help the others with the story. Or you can fail like he did in my throat as another initiate came forward. The other guy stood beside me and waited for his turn.

And I realized I had to go first again. I desperately tried to remember the next piece of the story. But as time passed, it was becoming more and more difficult. With deep concentration, I tried to remember the exact words and began to speak. The initiate dug down deep below the top soil. He got inside the grave and began to dig even deeper still. Once he was far below the surface, his brothers began to ask him questions. He answered each one simply and truthfully, for there was nothing for him to tell.

and once he was finished, they pulled him out. The Shadow Father clapped his hands approvingly, waiting for the next initiate to read his piece. I let out a deep, shuddering breath as he spoke, relieved that I hadn't missed anything. As each new recruit was brought forward, I remained standing there, forced to read every alternating paragraph of the story,

which I had only heard once. And I knew that a single missed word would mean my gruesome death by skinning at the hands of the creepy, supernatural being which sat behind me, laughing endlessly. It didn't help my nerves that every so often, a recruit would stumble and miss a word, causing a demise. I saw three different people, gruesomely murdered right in front of me. But still, I managed to recite the passages. Finally, the ritual was over, and the Dato father vanished once again, and we were left in the dark cabin. Congrats everybody! You're all officially members of the Skull and Crossbones organization.

Drink up! A keg of beer was brought up from the cellar, and bottles of champagne were popped open. Pizza and lukewarm sushi were laid out on the table to feast upon, and those of us who were left alive did just that. Except for me, I had very little appetite. Instead, I went outside, meandering down to the lake by myself. It was quiet outside and there was no moon, so the stars could be seen clearly up above. An endless number of them shone like infinite grains of white sand on a black backdrop of space. Instead of admiring the stars, I bent down and washed my hands off thoroughly in the lake water. There was no running water inside, so there was no running water inside.

was nowhere else to do this and i wanted to get it done fast good job in there steve said from behind me causing me to jump startled thanks i said standing up and turning around my memory has never been that good the only way i could get into yale was by cheating my way through high school and i was never very creative usually just opting for writing things on my hand i had developed some very tiny handwriting over the years perfect for cribna It's a good thing the Shadow Father didn't notice, Steve said, looking down at my wet hands. Yeah, for sure. Thanks again for the tip. He clapped me on the back and led me inside.

No worries, new guy. Happy I could help you out. I like you, man. Now, if you think that was wild, just wait until you get a load of the Christmas party.