Hello, my friends. It's Boo Rhodes from Sandcastle here to tell you another creepy story. I love clowns and stories about the circus, don't you? There's something about the Fall that brings these stories to life! Perhaps it is the harvest season when there are so many new festivals and carnivals coming about getting ready to shut down for the upcoming winter, or maybe it's the fun, creepy Halloween holiday coming up. Whatever it is, the clown stories love to run amuk and freak people out. So grab your pillow and your blanket then curl up into a ball while I tell you tonight's stories: A two part series by Elliot Cowling.
Now let's begin...
The Clown, the Paint and the Circus
By Elliot Cowling
I never liked the circus. Not for any particular reason. I just wasn't a fan of all that theatrical side of things. My little brother however was a huge fan of the circus. It had taken up permanent residence around five miles outside of our town. It was in fact the opening day of the circus. Advertisements seemed to have appeared from nowhere. It was situated within a large cut down field, next to another field full of wind turbines.
So my parents gave in to my brother's constant whining and we went out around one in the afternoon to the circus. He wouldn't shut up as we approached the main gate. We were greeted by the startling image of a wide mouthed clown on a large sign just outside the gate. Underneath were the words:
Big Top's terrific circus! It's so fun that even your parents won't want to leave!
Um. Right. Well that clown doesn't know me at all. After we parked up my brother jumped out the car and ran towards a cotton candy stall. He is five years old so what should I expect?
“Don't go running off Marcus!" my mum shouted at him.
Marcus kept bugging me to go on all the rides with him. My dad kinda forced me into it to keep him company. By the time I'd got off the carousel, I'd felt like I'd come down with an illness. I felt that sick. It seemed like every ride here was turned up a notch to intentionally make the children spew candy and chocolate all over each other. They also played this ominous music that sounded like something you'd hear in a nightmare in a horror film. There seemed to be a calliope round every corner, blaring out a hideous tune from its rusty pipes. It was around 3:00 PM now, and my mum called me over to tell me that the show was about to start, and that I had to accompany my brother to it because it was a 'Kid's only show'. What show? "Oh, that show... the one where people fly out cannons and all that rubbish!" I thought. The one where elephants parade left to right and are secretly thinking 'You're all a bunch of assholes'. I was not remotely interested. Surely that's not remotely safe, right? A children's only show? Parents or guardians aren't allowed in? I didn't think much of it at the time.
I was dragged along to the show and Marcus made sure we had decent seats. It seemed like half an hour before the thing started. Finally, the curtains drew back, and out came a man in a red suit with beige coloured trousers, and a black top hat. He also had a black cane with a golden head of what seemed to be monkey on it. He spoke with a French accent. It was the ringmaster.
“Ladies and gentleman! Boys and girls! I welcome to you to Big Top's terrific circus! It is so wonderful to see so many people here on our opening day! We have got plenty in store for you... and your parents here this afternoon! Marvel at the amazing Ernie the Elephant! Gasp at the beautiful Miss Melody! And cheer for the one and only Dangerous Don! We have plenty of treats for you this afternoon and this evening so let the show commence!”
An uproar from the crowd made me jump. The entire tent erupted with applause. I was probably the only person there who didn't clap. It looked like I was the oldest person there to. I was seventeen. The tent only allowed under eighteens in it, which was very, very peculiar.
I sat there and closed my eyes while Marcus cheered everything that was going on. Every time I closed my eyes to sleep (yes I was that bored), the crowd would wake me up so there was really no halfway. 'Just grin and bear it' I thought. I sat through elephants parading around in circles, tigers jumping through hoops, people firing themselves from cannons, tightrope walkers and I still remained bored.
“Up next we have the wonderful Miss Melody singing her wonderful tune 'Peaceful Night!' ”
Out came a stunningly beautiful woman wearing a sparkly red dress and high heels. Her hair was long and blonde. It seemed to trail down her back. She sang a gorgeous song that for the first time in the whole show, kept the audience silent. We were in awe of her beauty. When the song finished, the crowd went back to their usual self and filled the place with cheers and whoops. She turned around and slowly wandered back behind the curtains.
“Our final act this evening are some special guests. They have came from miles away today just to be here so can you please welcome, Jane and Andy Jones!”
My eyes widened. Marcus and I looked at each other with the same expression. He said mum and dad's names. The red curtains drew back and, to my surprise there they were. I looked in shock as they wandered towards the audience smiling and waving. What on earth were they doing in here! Mum looked around and we made eye contact. Her eyes were red and bloodshot as if she'd been crying her eyes out. Dad looked just as upset as Mum. They were holding hands and struggling to smile. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. The crowd went quite and the ringmaster gave my mother a microphone.
“I'd erm... I'd just like to say erm... that... it is a great honour to be here... and erm I'd like to announce that tonight, we are redecorating the tent. I'd like to say to my sons if I may... get out of here... now.”
The ringmaster looked at someone behind the curtain. I couldn't see who it was, but I have a feeling that my mum wasn't meant to say that. As she did, I gulped, I grabbed Marcus' arm and the ringmaster marched forward, grabbed the microphone and pushed them back.
“Erm let's hear it for Jane and Andy Jones!”
The audience did not applaud. They chatted amongst themselves, intrigued by what had just occurred. I looked at Marcus, and I leaned in closer to his ear.
“Don't let go of my hand,” I whispered.
I stood up with him and we awkwardly shuffled past moaning audience members to get to the exit. The ring master glared at me whilst addressing the audience. I didn't hear what he was saying. After making our way to the exit, we hurried outside and looked left to right, trying to spot a backstage entrance so we could find our parents. My phone vibrated in my pocket. It had turned off because it was out of battery. Just my luck.
I led Marcus past smiling parents waiting for their children. They seemed quite content eating and drinking and chatting whilst their children were being entertained by daredevils. The eerie music was still blaring out across the circus. After avoiding about twenty piles of vomit and a hundred cans of drink on the grass, Marcus and I could not find any sign of an entrance,
“Maybe they're back at the car?” I questioned.
“What's that?” Marcus asked.
“What's what?” I replied.
“Over there? That wooden door by the tent.”
I looked to where he was pointing. Joined on to the main tent was a wooden exterior. It was rectangular shaped with a tin roof. We wandered over and I proceeded to knock on the door.
“Hello? Excuse me we're looking for our parents. Hello?”
There was lots of banging from within. I could make out a dull moaning coming from behind the door, but no-one came to answer it. I tried knocking ten times or so. Nothing.
“Look they're probably at the car,” I said.
Suddenly, hundreds of children burst through the doors of the tent. An announcement came through the speakers.
“Ladies and gentleman. The park will be closing in ten minutes. Thank you.”
This was turning into something I had dreaded for a long time. Losing my loved ones when I needed them.
There was no security in this place. I saw no security guards the entire time I was there. The best thing to do was ask a performer of our parents whereabouts, but I didn't see any and I couldn't get backstage to ask anyone.
“What I think we should is g---”
Everything went black.
And so began my night at the circus.
When I woke up the first thing I noticed was the pain in my head. It was a violent throbbing right on the top of my head. The sky was pitch black. It was night. The moon wasn't even in the sky. Some security lights were on however. I sat up and processed everything that was going on. I was in a cage. One of the animal cages. On the other side, there lay a tiger, but it was dead. I nearly puked at the sight of it. It had been mutilated from head to paw. Slashes across its stomach, teeth removed from its mouth. Flies were all over it like a bout of Chicken Pox. Tied around it's neck was a piece of string with a note attached. The note read:
Needs to be darker
I looked at the cage door. I noticed the lock. It looked rather rusty. I tried pulling it for some reason but to no avail it didn't open. That's when I heard a shuffle coming from some distance in front of me.
There was only some light coming from where I was looking, but from round the corner, there came a silhouette. I didn't move a muscle. It stood there for a good minute or two and then walked back the direction it came. Another minute went by and the thing emerged again. I could hear a whining sound coming from it's direction. That's when I noticed it was dragging something. No. Someone. Now my view was quite simple. In front of me in the distance was the main tent, or the Big Top as it's known (hence why the owner's name i

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Ambient Backgrounds from My Podcasts
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Good evening, it's Boo Rhodes coming to you from the lighthouse in Sandcastle, California. Tonight I have for you some very weird stories about strange creatures of the creepy crawly kind. As you're reading tonight's stories you might feel a little bit at unease as your toes begin to tingle and the space behind your ears tickle like something is crawling near your head, but never fear because I am here to help you sleep.
Check out my t-shirt bundle on my website where you can get a special edition t-shirt and a signed printed copy of my anthology. Visit www.sandcastlehorror.com to find out more.
Now let's begin...
Werewolf Ears
Written by Kolpik


"Did you hear about Sal?"
Jimmy lifted his eyes from his work, looked at George's reflection and replied, "Sal, no, what's up with him?" He probably spent more time hovering over people, talking to their reflections in the large mirror on the wall than he did conversing with them face to face. This unique perspective of people in his profession never failed to make him feel more like a fly on the wall than an actual participant in a conversation.
Jimmy looked at people like he did puzzle pieces. Sure, most of them seemed the same or quite similar, but if you picked one piece out of the pile you could see its own unique shape. It amazed him how all these singular pieces somehow managed to fit together. Sure, every now and again you'd have a piece that needed to be pressed into place with a little more force than the others, or a piece that went missing, but no picture was perfect. All the one-on-one conversations he'd had with most of the male inhabitants in town over the past 40-odd years made him feel like a kind of counselor or advisor to the town.
"Oh, you haven't heard? Sal's in the hospital, some sort of coma." George hoped his enthusiasm for delivering this juicy bit of gossip didn't come off as uncaring.
"Coma? He was just in here last week." He lowered his scissors, and looked right at George's reflection with a stunned look on his face. "Come to think of it, he said he had a doctor's appointment later that day. He wasn't looking too good either."
"Yeah, according to Sue the doctors don't know what's wrong with him. He just collapsed last night while playing bingo at the church. Oh, and get this; Carl's son Kevin, the one with the exterminator business, disappeared the other day. Nobody's seen hide nor hair of him in a few days."
Jimmy stood there thinking about his conversation with Sal the other day. "Hmm, That seems normal enough to me. Doesn't Kevin have a girlfriend who lives out of town? He's probably just shacked up with her."
"He does, but he's missed appointments, and nobody has heard from him," answered George with an air of certainty. He loved to be the guy with all the answers.
Jimmy scratched his head. "You know, now that I think about it; Sal mentioned having Kevin spray his attic last week. Said he had some sort of infestation up there. Get this, according to him his entire attic was covered in some sort of webbing, and it was all squirming with what looked like thin, short strands of string."
George turned his head to look at Jimmy, his expression a big question mark. "What, like silk worms? I've never heard of an infestation like that before."
Jimmy spun George around in the barber chair and looked straight at him. "Me neither, but that's what he said; little white strands hanging from webs. It was strange the other day. Sal comes in here for a haircut every two weeks like clockwork. I don't recall him ever going longer than two weeks without one, but when he came in here the last time he looked like he hadn't been in the shop in a couple of months. His hair was a lot longer than it should have been and it was stark white."
George didn't seem too impressed. "Eh, he's an old white hair, has been for years."
"No, his hair used to be gray, there's a difference. Trust me, I notice these things. Who else but me knows about that dent on the back of your head?"
George defensively reached back and rubbed the back of his head. "Ok, ok, you're the expert but..."
"And another thing," Jimmy said, cutting George off. "He had the wildest werewolf ears I've ever seen." Georges puzzled expression beckoned Jimmy to elaborate. "Oh, it's something my father used to say to customers with hair in or on their ears. Sal never had much ear hair before, but the other day his ears were a damn jungle." Jimmy decided not to mention that he thought he'd seen some of the werewolf hairs twitching when he was sweeping them up later on. He had blamed it on drinking two more cups of coffee than usual that day.
George settled back in his chair. "Well, it seems to me like we're carrying on three different conversations here. I don't see what any of this has to do with Sal being in the hospital. I'm going to check in on him later when I pick up Sue from there." Jimmy absentmindedly brushed a white hair off of his arm, spun George back around, and returned to the task at hand.
Jimmy didn't have another customer after George left. He'd had plenty of boring days like today. Waiting for people to drag themselves into the barbershop for a haircut was just part of the job. He tossed back three aspirin, and washed them down with a swig of old, burnt coffee. He decided to go see Sal if he could just get his headache to subside a bit. He'd been feeling it slowly ramping up all day, and now it was making it hard to think straight.
"That's it!" he said aloud to the empty shop. He was tired and just wanted to go home, and sleep off whatever he was coming down with. He shut off the lights, grabbed his coat, and locked up. As he stepped out of sight of the front display window something about the size of a child's fist slipped down from the ceiling on a thin strand of filament. It landed on the counter littered with the tools of the barber trade, and swiftly headed towards the back room.
It came across a stray white hair, attached it to a strand of silk hanging from it's spinneret, and dragged it along behind it as it crawled down the counter to the floor, and entered the back room. It approached a garbage bag laying in front of the back door; easily slit the plastic bag of hair open, and began to emit a shrill sound reminiscent of a whistling kettle. Slowly over the next several minutes little white hairs slipped out of the bag, and slinked towards the source of the noise.
It then attached them one-by-one to the ever lengthening strand of silk trailing behind it. It crawled back to the place in the ceiling it originally came through with its collection of twitching white things in tow, and slipped out of sight. The laden silk strand quickly followed, and vanished into the ceiling as well.
A cargo van was haphazardly parked about ten feet off of an old dirt road in the middle of the forest. Its sides were emblazoned with identical logos that read, "K-Pow Extermination." A pale skinned man sat stiffly in the front seat. The top of his skull was ripped open like the top of a pan of Jiffy Pop. Chubby, white worms, engorged with brain matter, squirmed inside of the man's exposed skull. They wiggled here and there all over his lap, and the front seats of the van.
A spider about the size of a baseball sat in the passenger seat. Its silvery sheen gave it an almost mechanical appearance. It had a worm pinned to the seat by its pedipalps. Emaciated little husks of worms lay all around it. The back seat was covered in a glistening, almost translucent pattern of silk. Little white strands were woven into the pattern like some sort of twitching tapestry.
Phase Spiders
Written by AMarbleHornet
The party of vagrants slowly trudged along the beaten path on the cold, rocky mountainside. If you focused just hard enough and you had decent eyesight, you could just possibly see the towering spires of Wratholme, capital of the locale. Surely there, at least, someone could hire these able bodied men who had been hardest hit by the depression and drought? This was, of course, their anchor of hope.
The leader of the party, meaning the one in front, was an older gentleman of, at a cursory glance, about mid-forties. He had a rather gruff expression to him, seeming dour and stolid in his ways. He used his long Bo staff to lead himself along the worn path, skillfully maneuvering over lone rocks and ridges in the way.
This man, whom most knew only as Rider, was merely looking for work to support his family. While he rarely spoke or interacted with any of the other nomads, they were somewhat awed and somewhat frightened of this sulking man. There were stories, of course, most dealing with his actions in the War of the Fallen, where all great mages practically made themselves extinct with their folly, and some dealt with his past riches, squandered on drinks and remedies to harsh speculations.
Rider walked in a way much like a homeless fellow down on his luck, staring at the ground contemplating his next move. Often he would search his large sack that hung over his broad shoulders, to no avail.
Now, Rider was possibly one of the top experts on beasts of all kinds, from dire rats to the hugely feared bulettes. It was rumored that he had even once fought a Nalfeshnee and had lived to tell the tale, although it was never known who had started the story and if it was real.
Knowing that, the other wanderers always took his words, however rare, to great consideration, especially concerning the safety of the party. So, when several minutes after they had passed a small ruin on the mountainside he hesitated to move forward, the whole train halted and awaited his words which were surely forthcoming.
“We need to choose a new path…” murmured Rider, unsure of himself, so out of character.
“What do you mean? We’ve no other paths to take except the

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Ambient Backgrounds from My Podcasts
https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/ambient-sounds-of-sandcastle-nature-dark-mysterious--4976400

I really enjoyed this one! It will be up on YouTube next week. Can't wait to start the new channel :)
Good evening, it's Spooky Boo Rhodes coming to you from the lighthouse in Sandcastle, California. Given that it is the beginning of the spooky season, I am bringing you a creepy monster story. We all love mummies, don't we? Those old dusty bodies wrapped in linen with their organs nestled in jars. Maybe that's why mummies wake up? They're looking for their brains but they still have a heart and that's where all of the love comes from when they whisk away the woman of their dreams into the night.
OK enough of that love stuff, we're here to talk about horror. It's almost Halloween time and I have a few Halloween t-shirts that you might enjoy. Pumpkins, black cats, zombies, and more. Visit my website at www.scarystorytime.com/merchandise where you can find fun t-shirts and other goodies including the Sandcastle Horror Bundle. Just in time for Halloween. The paperback will be out soon so get the bundle before it is gone!
I've finally decided what to call this podcast! It's been many years since I started and yet it didn't have a home. The name was so generic that it was down right embarrassing, but hold on to your witches caps and warlocks staffs because now I have a new name and look! I even have a cute little logo that describes me completely. The channel hasn't started up yet on YouTube, but you can subscribe at www.youtube.com/midnightscarespodcast for future videos. Be sure to bookmark it here on your favorite podcast app although you probably shouldn't need to as only the name changed.
Now let's begin...
The Mummy's Voice
Written by Jake Wick
Ben was never much for getting the creeps during the graveyard shift at the local museum. All of those figurines and statues and witch doctor masks, he never saw anything in them besides wax and stone and wood. He liked the solitude in the museum at night. He liked hearing no one's voice. He liked hearing nothing at all. Being a nighttime security guard brought on solitude that Ben had always appreciated. He found comfort in his job. That was, of course, until a 4,000-year-old corpse named Prince Khafre arrived at the museum for the month of October.
The mummy of Prince Khafre III was a traveling exhibit. If it were permanent, Ben knew he would've had to see about quitting. From the moment Prince Khafre's malodorous corpse arrived, Ben felt an unease that he hadn't felt in a long time. He wished they could have at least placed glass over the sarcophagus. But the sarcophagus was wide open and it exposed the prince's corpse to the open air.
The mummy was wrapped in gauze that was now rotted and withered by the hand of time. The head was exposed. It was a sickly brown color. The face was skeletal and yet still had the components of a human face. There was half a nose and shriveled ears and even a couple teeth. What the mummy's face was missing were its eyes. Instead, two empty, void-like sockets glared upward at nothing but simultaneously at everything, and they looked as though they led into an eternal and bottomless abyss.
Perhaps the most unsettling aspect of Khafre's anatomy was its mouth that hung wide open, agape in a never-ending and silent scream. The distressed appearance of the facial muscles only added to the impression that this poor prince had been buried alive, something the experts were looking into.
It was Ben's third shift with Prince Khafre resting under the same roof, and he already couldn't wait for the month of October to be over. It was only the fifth, too. Ben wasn't too sure how much more of this he could take. He was like a child with a creepy doll in their bedroom. No matter what room he was in, what floor he was on, what exhibit he was near, he could feel those lifeless eye sockets leering at him through the walls. When he used the bathroom and approached the sink to wash his hands, he felt abashed when confronted by his own reflection, because his reflection displayed unease that was childlike and irrational and foolish.
That thing is here.
It's upstairs.
Right above my head.
Maybe it knows I'm here, too.
And in the afternoon while Ben slept he saw Prince Khafre's ghastly face in his dreams. The facial features of the mummy were even more exaggerated in dreamland, cartoonish almost, but still grisly. And in Ben's nightmares, he would look down on Khafre's horrid face as the jaw inched open and shut, open and shut, open and shut, and with each movement would utter a futile grunt like someone in sleep paralysis attempting to cry for help. Ben would always awaken with a jolt, shaking his head around, trying to get the image out.
Ben arrived at the museum during the evening to see Henry, the museum director, standing in the lobby waiting on him with his arms crossed and his head cocked sternly to one side. He looked like a schoolteacher who was out to rectify the behavior of a disobedient student.
"Henry?"
"Ben. Take a walk with me."
"A walk?"
"Yes, a walk. Follow me."
To Ben's puzzlement, Henry lead him to the second floor, to Prince Khafre's exhibit. They approached the sarcophagus, something Ben hated having to do. Henry pointed down at the mummy and looked at Ben and said nothing.
Ben shrugged. "Yeah, I uh, I give up."
"Look at the arms."
The very second after those words were uttered, Ben felt his veins turn into rivers of ice. Ben saw it, too, saw the arms of the mummy, which were now down by its side, rather than crossed over the chest like they were supposed to be.
"I, uh, I…" Ben couldn't find his words.
"Is that funny to you?" Henry asked rhetorically. "Because let me tell you, it's not funny to me."
"I didn't do that," said Ben. "Couldn't it have been some kids messing around?"
"Do you see any kids around here? It's Monday. Place is closed."
"Maybe they moved them yesterday."
"But you guarded it last night, did you not? Wouldn't you have noticed?"
"I, I…"
Ben had passed by the exhibit once—and only once—the previous evening and never noticed anything off about the arms. In fact, he faintly remembered the arms being crossed over the chest, but there was no way to be certain.
"Look," said Ben, "did you talk to Jimmy?"
Jimmy was the daytime guard, a real prankster. He and Ben had always enjoyed playing jokes on each other. This one was a step too far in Ben's mind.
"Yesterday's daytime guard was Thomas, the new guy," Henry replied, "and let's face it, he hasn't joined your little circle of pranksters, yet."
"Well, I –
"Move the arms back, please. And don't let it happen, again. I don't care who did it."
"Move the arms… back?"
"Yes. But wear gloves, or something." Henry walked off. Ben looked down at the mummy.
It's just you and me, now.
Ben took out latex gloves and slapped them on and cringed as he imagined touching the mummy. Standing this close enabled him to smell the stench of Prince Khafre's corpse. He used one hand to pinch his nostrils shut and the other to grasp the mummy's wrists one at a time and move them back to its chest. The wrists felt like little branches in Ben's grasp, and he hated the crinkling sound the bones made when moved. Through the latex gloves, he could feel the icy touch of death that radiated from the mummy's rotted flesh.
For the next hour or so, Ben thought about it more, and the more he thought the more he realized that Khafre's arms had been crossed over the chest. He could picture it. He certainly didn't move them. He'd never have touched that thing by choice.
And so, later that evening when Ben was alone in the place, he pulled a steel chair up to Khafre's sarcophagus and sat down. He would sit here and watch the mummy. Any sign of movement, any sign at all, even the slight twitch of a bony finger, and Ben was out. Plenty of places without mummies needed security guards.
Come on, give me a reason to quit.
Just move, just once.
Come on, November!
As Ben sat and kept his eyes trained on the mummy, his sleepless afternoons of mummy nightmares began to catch up to him, and Ben was soon sound asleep with his mouth agape and drool drizzling down over his jaw.
"Benjamin!"
Ben woke with a jolt. He stood up with such force that it knocked the chair backward. He grasped the handle of his pistol. His head was on a wild swivel as he glanced all around, trying to pinpoint the source of the voice.
It soon occurred to Ben that what he had heard was a half-awake, half-asleep hallucination. He sighed with relief as his heart palpitations slowed to a crawl. He removed his hand from his pistol.
"Benjamin!"
There it was, again. Ben was so startled that it felt like a shotgun round had just penetrated his gut.
"Who's there?" Ben shouted.
"It's me, Benjamin."
The voice was low and metallic, but also slightly debonair, sort of like a James Bond villain. Ben found it difficult to pinpoint the source.
"Where are you?" Ben asked.
"In here," the voice replied. "In my sarcophagus."
Ben's heart sank as he drew his gun and slowly approached the mummy's coffin.
"No, that's impossible," said Ben.
"One would think," the voice replied.
"Jesus Christ."
"Not quite. I'm Prince Khafre, the third. And I will be requiring your assistance."
At this moment, Ben realized that the voice was not coming from the mummy itself, nor anywhere in the room for that matter. It was sounding off inside of Ben's mind.
Great, I'm going insane.
"This is insane," said Ben. "I must be going crazy. I must be –
"Oh, do stop dawdling," Khafre interrupted. "We're wasting time."
"How are you speaking to me?"
"I have no earthly idea. Why, it took three days and all of my inner strength and then some more just to move my arms from m

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The original Spooky Boo's Scary Story Time telling spooky, scary stories since 2016. Here you'll find true scary stories, fiction stories, urban legends, creepypasta, and other tall tales from the darkest corners of the internet.

Call in your own true scary story at the number 707-SPOOKYB (707-776-6592) and leave a message of up to 3 minutes, and it might be played on the air.

Send your true scary stories. Visit my website at
https://www.scarystorytime.com/blog/scary-story-submissions

Ambient Backgrounds from My Podcasts
https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/ambient-sounds-of-sandcastle-nature-dark-mysterious--4976400

The Mummy's Voice
by Jake Wick
https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/The_Mummy's_Voice

A security guard has qualms about overseeing the new October exhibit and for good reason. Mummy's are scary and sometimes very magical.

Intro Music
The Order's Theme
Myuu
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xvzl0S85HHg

Follow me
https://www.spookyboorhodes.com
https://www.twitter.com/spookyboorhodes
https://www.youtube.com/midnightscarespodcast
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https://www.midnightscarespodcast.com

Ancient Relics and Fables
Welcome to the Saturday redux :)

Today I take you into the realm of the fantasy world where you will experience some frightening tales of yesterday. These three stories grip your heart and your mind for in these stories true evil and magic exist.

For more information on these stories visit my website at https://www.creepypastascarystories.com

Story 1
Story Number One
The Skeleton in the Throne
https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/The_Skeleton_in_the_Throne

Music
Fernweh by myuu
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rILdNFvusWo


Story 2
Flight of the Elf King
https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/Flight_of_the_Elf-King

Music
Facing Darkness - myuu
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BxDVgEhZppk


Story 3
The Squire and the Black Scroll
by Killahawke1
https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/The_Squire_and_the_Black_Scroll

Music
Shelter - myuu
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-G37YAeLV0M

It's Not Over yet - myuu
Dwarf Fight
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VWXDv7huKS0

Intro and Ending
Music
The Order's Theme - myuu
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xvzl0S85HHg

Stories told by Spooky Boo Rhodes

Come visit my other podcast at Spooky Boo's Scary Story Time
https://www.scarystorytime.com

Patreon: https://www.spookyboo.club
Twitter: @spookyboorhodes
Facebook: @spookybooscarystorytime
Instagram @spookybooscarystorytime

Thanks for listening!

TenebrousWritten by EmpyrealInvectiveLionel Upton Xion grew up like most children; as a child he had a healthy fear of the dark. The peculiar thing about Lionel was that his fear of the dark didn’t evaporate, or at least get relegated to the dark corners of his mind as he aged. Instead, it intensified. His neurosis multiplied and insidiously entered itself into his life. He wasn’t able to sleep with the lights off and whenever he found himself in darkness, he was reduced to a shrieking, sobbing mess. His parents hoped that this irrational fear would pass with time, but it only seemed to dig in deeper and grow roots in the young boy’s mind.His parents became increasingly distraught over their son’s plight. They tried to cure him of his fears, but their attempts were met with resistance. They brought the boy to doctors who referred them to psychiatrists. Psychiatrists diagnosed the now teenage Lionel with nyctophobia. Pills were prescribed liberally to no effect and talk therapy uncovered no secret traumas. (One therapist was insistent that Lionel had been raped, but social services managed to dispel that theory.)After that incident and subsequent interview with child protective services, Lionel’s parents decided against pursuing the issue any further. Thus Lionel’s fear of the dark was left alone by his parents. He did his best to avoid making his fears known and his parents did their best to not force situations. With time this problem became something that was in the background and easily overlooked. It was a closely guarded family secret.Time passed and Lionel led a reasonably fulfilling life. He completed college when he was twenty-two years old and landed a well-paying job that he neither enjoyed nor hated. He found his mental state smothered in ennui which he combated with new things and new experiences. He blamed it on his growing up and becoming an adult, but he could never puzzle out the nervousness he felt. When he was twenty-five, his grandfather died and being an only child of an only child, he inherited his house. It was in that house, living by himself that he started to lose his mind.Lionel’s madness started small like all psychosis. He had the feeling that someone was watching him whenever he was in his house. He chalked it up to living in a small house in a relatively elderly neighborhood. His octogenarian neighbors treated him as if he would suddenly start throwing raves and doing that drug that killed a lot of revelers. (They watched a lot of news programs dealing with this almost non-existent issue.) Lionel did not make a lot of friends among his neighbors and instead chose solitude. When he wasn’t working, he was alone. He ate by himself, he slept by himself, and even when people tried to intrude on this solitude, Lionel felt like he was alone.A few weeks into living in his new residence, Lionel started to notice that he could never find anything in his house. He would buy and leave light bulbs on the counter after coming home and he would find them on top of the television. He brought home a pack of steaks to cook, only to find one rotting in a closet a week later. He began to research his family lineage for Alzheimer’s, but found no real influence of it in his immediate family. Lionel eventually decided the stress of his job was toying with his mind. He continued on with his life.When the lights were next to become mischievous, Lionel began to feel tinges of panic rising up from the pit of his stomach. He brushed it away as childish fancies that he hadn’t been able to bury, but had been able to ignore. He would go to sleep in his bedroom with the lights on and would wake up in the morning with them turned off. He figured that there was some sort of timer function used as an energy saver, but found nothing in his investigations.As part of Lionel’s ritual, he would turn on every light in his house as soon as he got home. He would start in the kitchen, moving on to the bedroom, then the bathroom. Every room he was going to use was lit up. Upon returning to the kitchen, the lights would be out. This didn’t happen everyday, but occurred with enough frequency to be noted by him. He explained it away as a slipping mind, but knew that something had begun to gnaw away inside him.Lionel’s anxiousness finally reached a pinnacle when he was reading a magazine in his kitchen when the room was bathed in a fast flash of light and then darkness swallowed him whole. He went to the switch, thinking it needed to be flipped, but found it could not be resuscitated. The longer he spent in that darkened room, the greater his unease grew. His hairs stood on the back on his neck, his bowels tightened, and he felt his testicles retract. He threw himself into the light of the living room and took fifteen minutes to slow his breathing. Upon examination the next day, Lionel would find the wires severed to the switch.Lionel’s anxiousness turned into panic. He had the wires repaired, but a week later they would be split again. Electricians were dumbfounded as to the cause. They thought rats were chewing up the wires (The house had its fair share of rats.), but the pattern was more similar to a cut and not gnawing. Then the lights in the living room would go out of operation. He had been able to deal with small moments in the darkness, but something about this darkness in particular was extremely upsetting. It was suffocating. He felt eyes on him when he was in the darkness, he imagined breath on the back of his neck.It didn’t take long for Lionel’s panic to turn into pants-shitting terror. That terror fulminated while he was taking a day off of work. (He noticed that he had been doing that more and more, but could not help it with everything that had been happening.) He watched a rat scurrying across the floor. He was not good at cleaning house and wasn’t phased by creatures crawling around. It passed under the shadow of his chair. A large squeak drew his attention to it. The rat had made it five bounds beyond the shadow when it reached the limit of its body. Lionel stared at the corpse in horror. Two of its legs had been torn off and it was missing half an ear and one of its eyes.Lionel spent the rest of the day avoiding shadows. Whatever was in there was the cause of Lionel’s terror and it was the presence in the darkness. It had been watching him for a long time. He knew that it had started by toying with him. It moved his things around to play with his mind and its pranks on the lights was it escalating the situation. Lionel dry-heaved when he realized that it had probably cut the lights while he was sleeping. It was alone with him while he slept. What did this thing want? He shuddered because a part of him knew exactly what it wanted, whatever creature did that to the rat had a new target. It wanted Lionel.He sought to escape the house, but knew before he had even reached the door that it would be a fruitless struggle. The door was bathed in shadows. Lionel could feel it there. It was waiting for him. Waiting for him to stick out his hand and grope for the knob of the door so he could pull back a ragged and bloody stump. He knew that it wouldn’t kill him. It would maim him. Whatever was in the shadows wanted to take its time with him. It had been playing with him for weeks and now the game had reached its crescendo.He wouldn’t be taken so easily. Something told him that if he could make it to sunrise that he would be able to escape. The creature hid in the shadows and if Lionel was right, when the sun rose it would be left with nowhere to hide except where it hid during the day. He prayed to God it couldn’t walk in the light. He just had to make it until five A.M. He had to avoid the dark for just a few hours. The sun was beginning to set and before that could happen, he would have to make sure he would be ready to deal with this threat.Lionel ran all over the house, trying to collect everything he could use to make it through the night. He knew the lights would not hold out for long. They would eventually be cut. He grabbed a lighter, match boxes, candles, and batteries. He looked out the window as the sun slowly sank beneath the horizon. He had just one last thing he needed before he was ready to confront the darkness. The only problem was that it was in the closet in his bedroom.The door swung open and the light that streamed into the closet was almost instantly consumed by the hungry darkness. There was no light bulb in this place. He had wanted to install a light in switch in every single room of this house when he moved in, but then the trouble had all started and he was side-tracked. The closet was about six feet long and the coincidence of that did not escape Lionel. The item he wanted sat on the shelf in the back corner. In the murky darkness, he could just make out the flashlight.Lionel knew he would have to enter the darkness if he wanted to retrieve the flashlight. He stepped forward and felt the oppressive darkness begin to circle around him. He pulled out his lighter and struck it. The flame illuminated a radius of around a foot. He walked slowly in that space, afraid that whatever was in the shadows would lunge out at him any second. His eyes wandered all around him as he edged closer to the flashlight. He grabbed it off the shelf and when he turned around, he saw the thing in the darkness.It was on the border between the darkness and light, but Lionel saw it clearly enough. Its entire body was jet black like it had been made of obsidian ink. Its eyes were a dark red that resembled a blood red ruby, dropped into clouded water. Its body was emaciated. The sight was quick, but burned itself onto his mind. Its sudden appearance caused his finger to slip off the button that was depressing

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YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@spookybooscarystorytime
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Support the show on the commercial free podcast
https://www.patreon.com/spookybooscarystorytime

The original Spooky Boo's Scary Story Time telling spooky, scary stories since 2016. Here you'll find true scary stories, fiction stories, urban legends, creepypasta, and other tall tales from the darkest corners of the internet.

Call in your own true scary story at the number 707-SPOOKYB (707-776-6592) and leave a message of up to 3 minutes, and it might be played on the air.

Send your true scary stories. Visit my website at
https://www.scarystorytime.com/blog/scary-story-submissions

Ambient Backgrounds from My Podcasts
https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/ambient-sounds-of-sandcastle-nature-dark-mysterious--4976400

Dark and Terrifying Creepypasta Story Tenebrous

Tenebrous
Written by EmpyrealInvective
https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/Tenebrous


Background sound:
Coastal Thunderstorm in Sandcastle, California
Spooky Boo Rhodes
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7vRiQNjWAtI

Subscribe to my website updates and get the podcast links
https://www.scarystorytime.com

Get t-shirts, mugs, and more!
https://www.scarystorytime.com/merchandise

Amazon Books & Stuff
https://amzn.to/3bn4rxn

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https://www.twitter.com/spookyboorhodes
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https://www.reddit.com/
Or just search for either "Spooky Boo Rhodes" or "Spooky Boo's Scary Story Time"

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About the host: I'm a horror author and podcaster of everything spooky! I love writing and telling scary stories and exposing unknown authors to the world. I'm the creator of the Horrors of Sandcastle where I tell the stories of the mysterious town of Sandcastle, California where Heaven meets Hell and creatures of the night become one with the growing population of mankind. It's easy to hide the nature of evil within the boundaries of the human explosion. In these stories you'll find werewolves, vampires, ghosts, demons, witches, spirits, and other unworldly paranormal creatures.

On a warm Tuesday night in 1971, Tamera put on her best Sunday clothes and climbed out of her bedroom window. Her foster brother Jax was asleep peacefully in his bed on the other side of the room, his glasses neatly placed on his bedside table, his dark hair messy from tossing and turning. As Tamera's pretty dress shoes hit the dirt below their shared bedroom window she heard the soft sound of a rock shifting beneath her weight, and she held her breath for a long moment. When nothing happened, she drew her hands away from the windowsill and crept away from the small white house she lived in near the edge of Rougeweb, Texas.
The moment she stepped off of the grass and her shoe hit the gravel street, a firefly buzzed before her nose. It whizzed in a circle around her head, buzzing by her ear, and she struggled to keep her eyes on it. She lifted her hands to catch it, but before her fingers could clasp around the insect, its light zoomed away down the street. Without so much as a second thought, Tamera ran after it as fast as she could, grinning and stifling her giggles. 
Down the street she went, the gravel melting into asphalt, the houses getting closer together, and the distant giggles of other children reminding her of her goal. To find the festival.
The golden light of the firefly turned left, and so did Tammy. Her face was flushed, her breath heavy and her legs tired, but she desperately wanted to follow the light. She kept her pace, her eyes on her prize, her arms stretching out towards it. She leaped over rocks and fences, nearly tripping once but forcing herself back up with a grunt and a huff. 
Finally, when she entered a field of corn, she was sure she was gaining on it. At first, she wondered if it was just her hoping too hard, but no, as she dodged around cornstalks she could tell she was getting closer. She forced herself to run faster than she thought she could, her arms out and fingers spread wide to finally capture the little glowing bug she had chased so far for so long. Just when she was sure she could close her hands around it, it completely disappeared, and she ground to a halt, nearly slipping in the dirt and ruining her Sunday clothes. She stood still in the dark of the night, the stalks of corn surrounding her forever on all sides. Her breathing was loud and heavy and she felt sticky and sweaty. She swallowed her spit and looked around herself, but saw nothing but the dark silhouettes of the corn disappearing into the distance. Though the moon shone bright and it was a clear night, she felt that not enough light was penetrating the leaves over her head. She felt her chest tighten and her eyes begin to sting, and she lifted her hand to bite down hard on her knuckle as she spun around a few times, desperate to get her bearings.
Then she heard it. At first, she wasn't sure what it was, but after a few seconds, she realized it was a tune. Music was playing somewhere, the sound getting closer and closer though Tamera stayed still. Her face stained with tears, she moved towards the noise, pushing at the stalks around her in an attempt to see where it came from. As she went, she slowly began to see fireflies again, but there were many of them, and none of them seemed keen on leading her anywhere. She kept following the joyful sound as it began to blend with children's laughter, the smell of fresh popcorn, the clapping of hands in time to the rhythm. When she finally broke through the thick wall of corn stalks, she looked up to see a large, freshly painted red barn in front of her, decorated to glow golden with fairy lights and streamers. Children were running in and out, laughing and playing and dancing, some holding popcorn and candy, and others holding balloons. By the door stood a teenage girl, dressed in a white button-down shirt and a red vest, black slacks and dress shoes, bowtie, top hat, and cane to tie it all together, grinning joyfully at everyone who ran past. Inevitably, that grin fell upon Tamera. The girl smiled and raised a finger to beckon her closer.
The girl knelt before Tamera, her shining green eyes crinkled at the corners with glee. "Well, howdy there, little princess. It's so nice to see a new little face here among all these friends. May I ask for your name?"
“Tamera,” she replied, and the girl smiled. "Tamera. That's a lovely name. Do you mind if I call you Tammy?" When the little one nodded, the girl's grin got even bigger. "Tammy. You've dressed up so nicely to come and visit us. I'm so, so happy." She clasped her gloved hands together, bringing them to her chest. "I'm known as The Barker around these parts. I'm the one who takes attendance, makes sure everyone is here and having a good time before the games begin. I bet you just can't wait, huh? I can see it in you - your little heart is just pounding with excitement, isn't it?" The Barker reached out, walking her fingers up Tammy's arm and then poking her on the left side of her chest, and Tammy giggled, her tongue sticking out between her teeth. 
"Alright, Tammy, I want you to go on in and have some fun, okay?" The Barker smoothed Tammy's hair with a gentle touch. "Remember to be a good kid at all times. Good kids get a prize at the end of the night." Placing a firm hand on Tammy's back, The Barker lead her into the barn.
The inside was even brighter than Tammy could have imagined. The walls were painted brightly with cute pictures of sheep and pigs and chickens and cows. Streamers hung from the ceiling in every color. The smell of cotton candy and fairy dust lingered in the air. It was filled with children, all between the ages of five and ten. Everyone was laughing and cheering, not a frown on a single face. There were popcorn stands and a man handing out candy, another man handing out balloons, she heard someone walking by say something about a petting zoo, and oh, it all felt magical. She couldn't decide where to go first, her eyes as big as dinner plates as she took it all in.
Suddenly, she made up her mind. She wanted a lollipop. She hurried across the hay-covered floor, to the back of the crowd surrounding the Candyman. He laughed along with each child while everyone else waited patiently for their turn, as a good kid would. Though it felt like ages, finally his shiny eyes landed on her. "What would you like, Tammy?" he asked, leaning towards her. Giggling, she pointed at the lollipops sticking out of his cart, and he turned to see with a hearty chuckle. "Ooh, a marvelous choice! What flavor?" Tammy picked cherry, and as he handed the treat to her, the Candyman winked. "You go be a good girl, alright?" Then he turned to the next child, a little boy with chocolate around his lips. Tammy walked away.
When she got a bit closer to the back of the barn, Tammy saw there was a petting zoo. There were baby piglets and bunny rabbits, puppies and kittens and chicks and fawns. She looked at it from afar for a moment, utterly astonished, then ran over as fast as she could. The chicks were like cotton balls in her hands, the bunnies were softer than clouds. The puppies tumbled and played and tried to get her to play too, and the kittens climbed up her clothes and she kissed their heads. She sat criss-cross on the ground and a baby piglet settled in her lap, and she found it so cute she didn't want to move or disturb it. So she sat there a bit, licking at her lollipop, which was absolutely scrumptious, and watching everyone laugh and run and play and shovel popcorn into their open mouths. 
"Is this your first time at the Bad Kids Festival?" a voice asked her, and she turned around to see a little boy talking to her. His skin was dark and he wore a dress shirt, nice brown slacks, and suspenders, shiny shoes. He came over and crouched beside her. "You just came here, huh? Don't you live with the Owens' down on Whitney Lane?" Tammy nodded and he clicked his tongue. "You're their newest foster kid, huh?" Another nod. “I’ve been with them for a few weeks now,” she told him.
“How’d you hear about the festival?” 
“Jax told me,” she replied. “He said there was a carnival nobody remembers until it’s time to go. I don’t get what he means, though.”
“He means what he said,” the boy replied with an eye roll. “Something funny goes on in everyone’s head around the time of the festival. Nobody really mentions it. Maybe we’re all just afraid to.”
“What happens?” Tammy leaned forward and the sleepy piglet in her lap shifted. The boy seemed to think for a moment before sitting down criss-cross next to her. 
“Once you leave, you forget everything that happened here,” he told her. “All you remember by the next morning is that you went, and had fun while you was there. No details.”
“Until a whole year goes by?” 
“Uh-huh,” he nodded. “Then one night everyone comes running out into the cornfields, and we end up here. I’ve heard people say they came looking for this place afterwards, but nobody’s ever found it.”
He sighed and pushed some hay around with his index finger, focusing his gaze on that.
"I'm real sorry they're like that. The Owens, I mean,” he said. “They have a new kid each month, it seems like. Except for Jax. He's been here as long as I can remember." He shifted his weight slightly. "He just turned eleven this year, though. How old are you?" 
“I’m six,” Tammy answered him, and he seemed surprised. 
"Six? I thought you was at least eight. Huh." Another click of his tongue. "I'm nine," he said, "So next year will be my last year getting to come to the festival." 
Tammy furrowed her brow. “How come?” 
The boy groaned. "Don't tell me Jax didn't tell you! You can't come after you turn eleven. The fireflies won't guide anyone older than ten - they just won't." He picked up some pieces of hay on the ground and started trying to make a circle with them. "Some say you forget all about it after a while, but I don't believ

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YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@spookybooscarystorytime
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Support the show on the commercial free podcast
https://www.patreon.com/spookybooscarystorytime

The original Spooky Boo's Scary Story Time telling spooky, scary stories since 2016. Here you'll find true scary stories, fiction stories, urban legends, creepypasta, and other tall tales from the darkest corners of the internet.

Call in your own true scary story at the number 707-SPOOKYB (707-776-6592) and leave a message of up to 3 minutes, and it might be played on the air.

Send your true scary stories. Visit my website at
https://www.scarystorytime.com/blog/scary-story-submissions

Ambient Backgrounds from My Podcasts
https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/ambient-sounds-of-sandcastle-nature-dark-mysterious--4976400

Terrifying Scary Story About The Bad Kid's Festival Episode 22020901 of the Spooky Boo's Creepypasta and True Scary Stories Podcast

Do you ever wonder what happens to those bad little children who go missing?

Story:
The Bad Kid's Festival
by Enbyatlas
https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/The_Bad_Kids_Festival

Background sound:
Coastal Thunderstorm in Sandcastle, California
Spooky Boo Rhodes
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7vRiQNjWAtI

Subscribe to my website updates and get the podcast links
https://www.scarystorytime.com

Get t-shirts, mugs, and more!
https://www.scarystorytime.com/merchandise

Amazon Books & Stuff
https://amzn.to/3bn4rxn

Follow me on social media
https://www.twitter.com/spookyboorhodes
https://www.tiktok.com/@spookybooscarystorytime
https://www.facebook.com/spookybooscarystorytime
https://www.instagram.com/spookyboorhodes
https://www.reddit.com/
Or just search for either "Spooky Boo Rhodes" or "Spooky Boo's Scary Story Time"

Put your podcast on YouTube easily with Headliner
https://make.headliner.app/referral/spookyboo_72RQ33

About the host: I'm a horror author and podcaster of everything spooky! I love writing and telling scary stories and exposing unknown authors to the world. I'm the creator of the Horrors of Sandcastle where I tell the stories of the mysterious town of Sandcastle, California where Heaven meets Hell and creatures of the night become one with the growing population of mankind. It's easy to hide the nature of evil within the boundaries of the human explosion. In these stories you'll find werewolves, vampires, ghosts, demons, witches, spirits, and other unworldly paranormal creatures.

Disturbing Stories About Creepy Spiders of the Spooky Boo's Creepypasta and True Scary Stories Podcast

Two creepy stories about spiders including a horrifying spell cast on a teenage girl.

Story 1:
Immolation
by TetsuyaH
https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/Immolation

Story 2
Spider Love Bite
by XanCrews
https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/Spider_Love_Bite


Background sound:
Coastal Thunderstorm in Sandcastle, California
Spooky Boo Rhodes
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7vRiQNjWAtI

Subscribe to my website updates and get the podcast links
https://www.scarystorytime.com

Get t-shirts, mugs, and more!
https://www.scarystorytime.com/merchandise

Amazon Books & Stuff
https://amzn.to/3bn4rxn

Follow me on social media
https://www.twitter.com/spookyboorhodes
https://www.tiktok.com/@spookybooscarystorytime
https://www.facebook.com/spookybooscarystorytime
https://www.instagram.com/spookyboorhodes
https://www.reddit.com/
Or just search for either "Spooky Boo Rhodes" or "Spooky Boo's Scary Story Time"

Put your podcast on YouTube easily with Headliner
https://make.headliner.app/referral/spookyboo_72RQ33

About the host: I'm a horror author and podcaster of everything spooky! I love writing and telling scary stories and exposing unknown authors to the world. I'm the creator of the Horrors of Sandcastle where I tell the stories of the mysterious town of Sandcastle, California where Heaven meets Hell and creatures of the night become one with the growing population of mankind. It's easy to hide the nature of evil within the boundaries of the human explosion. In these stories you'll find werewolves, vampires, ghosts, demons, witches, spirits, and other unworldly paranormal creatures.