Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - The Halloween Massacre

Episode Date: November 9, 2020

This story was written by user u/Born-Beach on Reddit. Born Beach's Mailing List: https://mailchi.mp/7bfcdafb46ba/xl1nc1vqnr Born Beach's sub-reddit: https://reddit.com/r/talesfromthecryptid 🎉 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 ✅ Advertising Inquiries: [e-mail] DISCLAIMER: This story is rated R for adults 18 years or older. NOT for children. #drnosleep #scarystories #horrorstories #truescarystories #horrorpodcast #horror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Talk to nice sleep. It's here. I don't know where. I don't know how, but it's here. It's inside the house. I've done fucking everything. I've called Todd. I've called Howard.

I even called a goddamn exorcist. None of them believed me. None of them so much is offered to help. Now it's Halloween and it's stronger than ever. I can feel it, moving through the house. Like a great darkness suffocating the light from everything. It's already taken my business partners, John and Erica. It's already taken so many others.

I'm upstairs in my bedroom closet. I've been here for three hours now, and I'll be here for three more if that's what it takes. I don't know if the thing hates the sun, but it never bothered me during the day. Only at night, always at night. There's a creek and a groan outside. On the steps, and I feel the house tremble as something monstrous moves through it. My breath hitches in my chest, and I remind myself to be still, to be quiet. I just need to make it until sunrise, just a little longer.

Then, the voice follows, low, raspy, and inhuman. So many lives, so many lives, and so little time. It's singing a song, but the tune is broken. Each word scrapes along my ears like a razor blade, cutting deep into my mind and pulling back memories. It sang before it took John. It was only a single word. Then, coming. It had hummed.

And we had all just thought we were hearing things. Now John's everywhere. There are pieces of him littered throughout the house, fingers and toes, and intestines and eyes. I weep silently into my hands, and I can smell John's blood on them. I can hear his screams. I can taste my cowardice for not doing more to help him, for not even trying. Oh, how good it'll feel to find the go. to finally go. The thing sings. I wince in pain at every word. God damn it hurts to listen to it.

Warmth flows for my ears, and I realize they're bleeding. Just one more, and then the song ends. I gasp in agony, as more memories tear themselves from my mind. Erica, her and I had separated in the panic of John's death. I had run up here, trying to call the police, but my phone was haywire. That's when I heard it come for her in the basement. The house creaked and groaned with the creatures every step. It had sunk, descending the basement stairs. One more makes two. I only heard her scream for a moment.

And then it faded to silence. Until the thing laughed. Gutteral and monstrous. It echoed throughout the house, shaking the foundations and rattling the old wooden frame. It laughed and it laughed. All that we need, all that we eat, all hail the coming of all Hallows Eve. Now it's moving toward me. It's getting closer. I can feel it's every step. It's every movement.

It passes through the house with tremors of violence. Just one more. Sings again. And then the song ends. It's outside the bedroom now. And my ears are bleeding badly. I can't take it anymore. I can't take the sound. I clamp my eyes shut, trying to ignore the agony of its voice, trying to ignore the panic rioting in my body. The floorboards creak outside the closet, and I smell something rotten, bile, and grotesque, something dead.

There's a low-grown as the closet door slides open. Looky, looky. It sings, discordant, tuneless. Wouldn't you like to see something spooky? I don't look. Agony tears through my eyes. They're being split open from the inside out, and blood is pouring from my head in a river down my jaw. I whimper, and something leans close to me. The smell of rot is nearly unbearable now, and I gag and wretch, but I refuse to open my eyes.

I can't. If I see it, then it's real. If I see it, then I die. Something grips my wrist, something cold and damp and loose with flesh. It pulls me from the closet, and I howl in terror and fear. It's taking me somewhere. Please, I sputter. Please don't.

My leg creaks as it drags me down the steps, and I scream. My eyes are clamped shut, but I feel myself moving through pieces of John as the creature pulls me through the house. Finally, it stops. I'm hyperventilating now. My chest rising and falling in rapid succession. No, no, no. I mutter again. Yes.

It says. And this time it isn't singing. It tosses me by my arm, and I feel my shoulders snap backwards out of its socket. I tumble down the old wooden stairs, my head smashing against the steps, my wrist snapping in half as I finally collide against the landing. I groan, tears and blood streaming down my face. Looky, looky. It sings, though its voice is now guttural and horrible.

It grabs me by the back of my hair, pulls my head up, and reaches its fingers down to my eyelids. Would you like to see something spooky? It pulls them open, and I see our studio. Our cameras pointing toward the cages, 10 of them, each filled with pieces of the children, each a tapestry. The light in the basement is dim, but I can see Sally's witch hat, still tied to her head. I can see Michael's werewolf paw, still on his dismembered hand. I lick my lips. There, in the back is Yonda's Cinderella costume.

The glass slipper still upon one of her. of her feet. The thing throws me forward, and I crash against the steel bars of the cage. When I look up in a daze, I see Erica's corpse. My dear filmmaker, mutilated and cut into pieces, her eyes are missing, and her hand is stuffed halfway down her throat. I lean forward and vomit, only then realizing that I'm lying in a pool of her blood. So many lies, so many lives, and so little time, creature sings. I hear the click of a button being pressed. and see a red light hovering in the darkness. The camera is recording.

Looky, looky. Please, I rasp. The house creaks and groans as it steps forward, and my body scrambles backward on its own accord. Please! Wouldn't you like to see something spooky? Thanks for listening. If you enjoyed the story,

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