Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - We hired an exorcist to save our daughter, but something went terribly wrong...

Episode Date: July 14, 2021

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As we awoke to the horrified scream shattering the silence of night, it didn't take more than a second for my protective instincts to kick in. I grabbed my back and ran upstairs to my children's bedroom. My wife followed behind me, ready to face any danger the world had to offer in order to keep our kids safe. Just at the top of the stairs, we immediately saw the smoke and heard the crackling fire coming from inside their room. And as I burst through the door,

I could see the twin boys already turned to charred bits of flesh while our youngest daughter sat unfazed alone in her own bed. defying all logic, the fire didn't seem to spread. It was locked to our son's burning bodies. They were dead before we even opened the doors. Even in the chaos, instinct to save whatever I could prevailed. I rushed over to my daughter and got ready to grab her and run. No sooner had my hands touched her before I felt a searing pain in my palms. Despite seeming perfectly fine, her body had turned to an uncontrollable source of heat. Joanna! I managed to get out as I stared at my burned hands. Then the fire suddenly cleared, leaving two charred bodies in a smoke-filled room.

Joanna lifted her head and stared into my eyes. Her pupils had turned unnaturally large, occupying the entirety of her eyes. Mary sat hunched over by her sons, screaming at the loss of our twins. But I couldn't do the same. I was broken from shock. I couldn't take my eyes off Joanna. Despite the idea going against all logic, I knew she had been the one to kill her brothers, but I couldn't fathom why or how. Did you do this? I asked in a merely shaky whisper, but instead of giving an answer, she just smiled in return. She reached out her hand, her palms glowing with fire, and I took a few steps back in fear. Whatever creature was sitting in that bed might have looked like our daughter, but it wasn't her. In our part of the world, there wasn't a major

hospital near every village. When things like this happened, the local doctor was called, if only to confirm the deaths before the bodies were taken away. In our case, he also came to check up on her daughter. We tried to warn him not to touch her, but suspecting foul play or abuse on our end, he insisted on talking with her alone. The police stood idly by outside, ready to interfere if need be.

All the while, Joanna remained in her bed, not moving an inch. The doctor closed the door to get some privacy. I knew it would be a terrible idea. But what could I say against the police and the doctor who thought we were the crime? culprits. Hello, Joanna. My name is Dr. Woodrow. I'd like to ask you a few questions if that's all right. We heard the doctor say through the door, but as before, Joanna wouldn't respond. It's okay if you're afraid, Joanna, but I'm here to... Oh, God! His words quickly turned to agonized

screams as the same blazing fire took over. With clear trepidation lighting up in their eyes, the police officers tried to open the door, but it had gotten inexplicably locked. They tried breaking it down, but by the time they could even get a proper kick in, the doctor had burned to death. The officers went to grab Joanna much to my protest. No sooner had they touched her before they too ignited in a hellish blaze that charred their skin and broke their bones. In the span of a day, five people had been killed by our daughter. But the thing about living in an obscure, small village is that no large news outlets are going to run with a story they believe is a myth. Over the next few days and weeks, several people contacted us with advice on how to deal

with the situation, all locals. And throughout it all, one idea stood above all others, that our daughter had been possessed by some sort of entity. We weren't given any time to grieve the loss of our sons, because we had to stay focused. We had to save the only bit of family we had left. Three weeks after the deaths, Joanna still hadn't left her room. She didn't eat, drink, or sleep. She just sat in bed and observed us whenever we entered. For each passing day, she got thinner, almost hollowed out. Whatever had taken. taken over her, was consuming her essence. And that's how we came to meet a man simply known as the pastor, an obscure priest seemingly experienced in the art of exorcism. Unlike the rest of the

people we talked to, he didn't seem uncertain nor afraid. He met us at our home, entering without saying a single word. He took a few steps inside, looked around the room, before a frown formed on his face. She's already dead, he said without even seeing her. No, she's not. She's up there. She's just not herself, my wife said. Her body might still be alive, but her spirit is too far gone. There has to be something you can do. Please, we're begging you, I said. This demon's oral signature is unknown to me. It's strong, and it's directly feeding off your daughter's soul. Even if I banish it from her body, your daughter, who she used to be, is long gone. The fact that her physical form is still kept together is a wonder in itself. But you'll try? He saw the look of

desperation on our faces. And knowing the story about our sons might have given him the final push of empathy needed to help us. He nodded. Tonight then, just past midnight, we need it dark, cover up the windows, turn off the electricity, and bring candles or lanterns as sources of light. I'll take care of the rest. With that, he just left. I looked at my wife with a glimmer of hope, but the thought of our burning boys had tainted the love we had for our daughter. Logically, we realized that it wasn't her fault. But the image had had to be a little bit of the image at the been burned into our minds. That day, we just sat on our front porch with our eyes fixed on the road, just waiting for the pastor to come back. We didn't eat, drink, nor did we speak a single word to

each other. We just sat idly by and waited. All the while, our daughter was trapped inside her own body, held at bay by a demon. A cool, uncomfortable wind dragged through the neighborhood as the last rays of sunshine gave way to the darkness of night. For each passing second, the clock ticked Closer to midnight, we held our breaths in anticipation. When the street suddenly lit up, it was a car driving up to our house, a pitch-black Ford Cortina, probably older than myself. The pastor stepped out in his gown, holding on a book with an upside-down, burning cross to splayed on the front.

In any other case, I'd ask you to leave, he began. But unless she hears your voices, there won't be anything to bring her back. You can help me. We nodded without hesitation. There was no power in the world strong enough to stop us. Shall we begin? He asked. We followed him upstairs to our children's room.

The walls were covered in a black, tar-like substance that seemed to emit from our daughter. She was barely recognizable as a human being. Just skin barely attached to their bones. She silently observed us with that same horrific smile, one that only slightly faded when she saw the book the pastor was holding. Without giving her a chance to move, the pastor opened it and started speaking.

The words that emitted from his mouth were from a language none of us had ever heard before. At first it sounded like something akin to Latin, but it was twisted, dark, and full of malice. What is he saying? My wife asked. I don't know, was all I could stutter back. The words seemed to physically hurt Joanna. Her screams were mere hisses at first, but they quickly turned into low-pitched growls. Her body writhed around in pain as she tried to escape. But the words froze her in place. She couldn't leave. She could only listen as the words penetrated her soul and attacked the demon within. You're hurting her!

My wife yelled as she tried to approach the pastor, but I held her back. Just as I grabbed her, the whole room fell silent. The pastor shut his book with a resounding bang. And that was it. Joanna fell limp on the bed. I thought it was over. But then pillars of black goo shot out from her mouth along with a smoke-like figure. Then another, and another, dozens of creatures escaped our daughter's body

and phased through the wall like it was nothing. They were out of sight before we could even react. But in their wake, our daughter looked almost human again. I rushed to grab her, cradling her in my arms, just hoping to feel a hint of life still within. She coughed a couple of times, then her chest started to move with her breaths. Oh, thank God, I let out in relief. But then I noticed the horrified look on the pastor's face. What? What have I done?

He asked himself, what's wrong? There shouldn't have been more than one. It's not possible, he mumbled. Flashes of the multiple creatures pouring out from Joanna stuck in my mind, as I realized that our daughter had never been possessed by just a single. single demon, but countless horrific monsters that had now been released into our town, this will be the end of us. The pastor mumbled. In the following days, we saw less and less people on the streets. Rumors of entire families dying spread like wildfire, too fast for any real help

to reach our little, isolated town. Whatever had been trapped within our daughter was quickly taking more vessels and were seemingly using humans as portals to bring more demons to our world. Our daughter was indeed special. Her body, the perfect breeding ground for demons from a dimension, we weren't meant to comprehend. And through her, they learned to do the same to others. Had we just let her die from the inside, the demons would have remained in the underworld where they belong. But our love, our need to save her, has doomed the entire town. Maybe even the world.

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