Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - The Devil’s Voice A Terrifying Acid Trip and the Battle for My Mind’s Control #16

Episode Date: July 31, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #acidtripgonewrong #psychologicalhorror #hallucinogenicterror #mindcontrolhorror #innerdemons  What started as a casual LSD trip turned into a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. Somewhere between reality and hallucination, I heard a voice—deep, ancient, and cruel. It called itself “The Devil,” and it didn’t whisper. It commanded. It promised power, then demanded obedience. I thought it was just a hallucination… until it started knowing things I hadn’t said aloud. Until it started taking control. My mind was no longer mine. I fought back, but every thought felt like a trap. Every moment like a test. This isn’t just a drug story—it’s a horror story of possession, addiction, and a voice that may not have been imaginary at all. Did I survive it? I’m not even sure that I am still me anymore.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, acidtriphorror, demonicvoice, mindcontrolterror, psychologicaldescent, innerbattle, evilhallucination, drugfuelednightmare, mentalpossession, identitycrisis, horrorofaddiction, badtripstory, satanichorror, lsdnightmare, darknesswithin

The Devil and Mr. Jones by Glenn Shaw, I'm never alone without someone to talk to. There is one entity that is always with me. I'm referring to the voice in my head. This companion and executive officer has been with me as long as I can remember. Often offering suggestions, sometimes explaining opposing viewpoints. Able to carry on two-sided conversations. Always giving alternatives to add to my initial understanding of circumstances. Many times my inside voice tells the funniest jokes, but usually I'm the only one that gets to hear them.

Somewhere in my mind there's an editor that gets the final say on what ends up sent to my mouth for public utterance. So far anyway, my editor is in control. Dark comedy is not everyone's forte. One funny quirk of my interior voice is its ability to mimic the sounds of famous people. I can read written quotes in the voice of the person who gave the interview if I have heard them speak in the past. Somewhere in my brain resides a sample of many well-known people's voice prints. I wonder how much free disc space I have left in my head for storage. There's no upgrading this dinosaur and I'm carrying around the sounds of some long dead

people taking up storage space. Another of my mind's rather innocuous abilities relates to long ago songs. I can remember every note of a seemingly endless number of decades old tunes. Most times this is a good talent to possess as I can have my own soundtrack when desired. Often though a song gets stuck repeating in my head. Sometimes it's not a song I like. The worst song I remember playing over and over for an excruciatingly long period of time was, 1 to 877 cars for kids, 1-877 cars for kids.

Advertising is very powerful. I only hope writing about this doesn't cause a or only hope writing about this doesn't cause a oral relapse. University of British Columbia researcher Mark Scott found in his studies of the human brain what he termed corollary discharge. This is a brain signal that helps us differentiate between the self-created sensory experiences we imagine in our heads from the actual external stimuli we see, hear, and feel. This corollary discharge is also associated with the internal dialogue also known as the inner voice in your head. Don't be concerned if you realize that you don't have an inner voice. It is estimated 30 to 50% of people don't have an internal dialogue.

Those without an inner voice process things differently via images or feelings or by some other means. Having or not having an internal dialogue has no relation to one's intelligence. My inner voice has been comforting and utilitarian for me. A friendly, reasonable and welcome companion. Not all have this pleasant of an experience. Some people have an inner voice that just won't shut up, magnifying insecurity and intensifying doubt. My inner counselor is a generally optimistic fellow who knows when to call it a day. My voice goes quiet thankfully when I lay my head down to sleep. I know others struggle with racing thoughts that deny them rest and amplify their worries

and I feel for them. Two thousand years ago, the philosopher Seneca wrote, We suffer more often in imagination than in reality. He was partially describing anxiety which is an example of the mind turning against itself. It's not something you can plan for or get away from. You have to face it head on and discover its triggers. Vanquishing anxiety is a battle you must fight alone at the most inopportune times. Sometimes your inner voice can be your arch-nemesis.

This generally leads to mental illness. Greatly simplified, schizophrenia is a mental condition whereby the sufferer loses the ability to differentiate between reality and their daydreams. They may hear more than one inner voice and the voice may override their minds editor leading to a rational or harmful behavior. Some New Testament Bible stories describe healings of people suffering from what they called possession by demons. The symptoms written have described schizophrenia really well.

It seems the demons are still with us 2,000 years later. Doctors have learned the art of sedation but the underlying condition still afflicts. The following narrative is the reason I started writing this essay about the inner voice. The main reason I've brought the inner voice up. It is so I can tell this next part of the story with the context to help make it understandable. This is a true story recounted from my memory. I've changed the names although my close friends will be able to figure out who was who. I have never told anyone this story.

Not even my wife. I heard the devil one time in my life. He spoke directly to me. He spoke like a friend. He was standing behind me speaking in my right ear. I could sense his location exactly and he was very close. I was 16 at the time. His words were crystal clear.

He spoke calmly as though he was giving me the score of the Yankee game. He said, kill Greg and Ricky, and immediately drew my eyes to the large knife drying in the dish basket by the kitchen sink. This voice, this thought, wherever it came from was completely out of character for me, completely irrational and without explanation. Alien I was hanging out with Greg and Ricky, two high school friends at Greg's house. It was the mid-1970s NJ. No one else was present.

It was a summer weekend and we were drinking some beer and smoking a little weed. Staying out of trouble like that good kids, we were. That night we were going to take what we were told was acid, a psychedelic in pill form. What it was in actuality, who knows. This was 1970s black market acid and was a federally banned substance and illegal. You needed plenty of downtime to drop 1970s acid. Hours The effects can be delayed in the beginning but you can be sure to spend the next eight to ten hours pretty well buzzed and debilitated.

Consistency is not a high priority in the first. black market manufacturing so you never knew what you were going to get. This was the fourth time I tried an alleged psychedelic. The three previous times were enjoyable and I expected the fourth to result in a similar experience. It is very important that you are in safe surroundings with people you are comfortable with who will watch out for you. It was common knowledge that sometimes a bad trip was possible. Having a trusted person as a guide was a prerequisite in case you started to flip out, also known as having a bad reaction. Teenagers never expect anything bad to happen to them. This evening's chemical excursion began comfortably familiar, but I shortly

developed extreme anxiety seemingly out of nowhere. This occurred during the initial two-hour period after ingestion at the height of the acid's powerful, hallucinatory effect. When that full effect hits you, you are incapable of anything more complicated than sitting and listening to music. During the height of one of my three earlier acid experiences I remember standing up from a seated position and not being able to tell where the separation between floor and ceiling was to walk out of the room. I sat down again. After some time passed, the acid's effects moderated a bit and then I was able to see where I wanted to go. It was just after this incapacitation period during trip four when the devil spoke to me.

I was in an altered state of consciousness. I know that. Perhaps more accessible to suggestion but from where. I do know that the voice behind me and to the right was alien. It wasn't me. I felt that in my core. The descriptive word that comes to mind to describe this voice is sly. To this day I believe that voice came from some place other than myself.

When my eyes darted to that kitchen knife I realized the danger we were all in and I told Greg that I was starting to flip out. He talked to me, calmly reassuring me that I was all right and gave me an orange. Thank God, the orange. What a wonderful tactile thing it is. It was soft and smooth and smelled amazingly citrusy. I turned it over and over in my hands. This gave my racing mind something else to focus on instead of the mental panic that had been growing exponentially inside me. The tactile sensations of holding the orange was all it took to vanquish the bad juju,

that was trying to take hold. Greg's simple, caring interaction changed my mental state and could very well have saved us all from tragedy that night. I am still thankful to this day. I thank God every day for the strength he gave me to ask for Greg's help in that instant to reject whatever was trying to ruin all three of our lives that night. Gratefully I've never heard that voice nor felt that presence again in the last 50-odd years. The memory, however, has never left me.

At the time I didn't realize it was the devil who spoke to me. That didn't occur to me then. I'm not from a religious background. I blamed the acid. Only years later did I consider the possibility that I had opened my subconscious up to an alien presence that may have been trying to manipulate me into harming two of my best friends. Where else could such senseless, evil intent manifest itself from? I have no great life-altering message here to tell you.

Only that I believe evil is real in this world and looking to gain a foothold anywhere it can. If you open yourself up to it by giving up control of your mind, you allow an opening for that evil to manifest in you. Acid slash psychedelics are sold in some states legally today. I urge you to use caution and to never experiment with these substances without trusted companions to watch over you while you are most vulnerable. Your mind can do terrible things when wasted. incidentally, that fourth acid experience was the last time I ever tried anything that powerful in my life. The end.