Good evening, it’s Spooky Boo Rhodes here with another episode of the creepy and the weird. Tonight in Sandcastle it is unusually cold and I think it is a little more than Mother Nature. The witches are out trying to make it rain for we really need it in California. They’re out every night with their spells. The churches are praying. The monsters are begging. Monsters drink a lot of water, especially the big ones.

Tonight I have for you some spooky, scary stories about blobs. What are blobs? Just blobs! Sentient substances we know nothing about. First I’d like to thank the listeners and Patreon members including madjoe, PA Nightmares, Ivy Iverson, John Newby, Patrick, and 933TheVolt.com. If you would like to become a Patreon member for a commercial free version of the show or you would like to support the show in other ways, please visit my website at www.scarystorytime.com/support. It is very much appreciated.

Come and visit me on Satruday nights for the YouTube live stream on my channel at Spooky Boo Rhodes. The fun begins at 6:00 PM Pacific. Send in a letter or call in your story and it might be read on the show!

Now let’s begin.

Story Number One

It Came From the Pacific

by Spooky Boo Rhodes

It was cold and dark outside last night, pretty unusual for this time of year. April should be heating up in Sandcastle, but this year the frigid air from up north is somehow assailing our small coastal town. Usually, with the fog coming in, there is a warm wet blanket of air surrounding us. Still cold, but not frigid cold. The fog has been absent the past few nights.

That’s why I noticed it–the blob. As I watched from the lighthouse window after the show, I noticed this dark mass of nothingness slither onto the beach from the waves. At first, I thought it might be a small whale or even a large patch of seaweed stranded in the sand from the incoming surf or maybe the high tide from the night before but then I remembered I had been out on the beach earlier that day and it wasn’t there.

I turned off the lights in the lighthouse and lit a candle so I could see better outside and nothing could see in. As I watched, the blob slowly moved up the shore closer to the hillside. Inch by inch it stuck one small gelatinous arm out after the other. Arm? They weren’t arms. They were more like appendages of things. Everything! From garbage and seaweed to dead fish and driftwood. As it passed, a sickly smell covered the area. My windows were closed and I could still smell the stench of decay passing by.

In the dim moonlight, I could still see it getting closer to cliff then I noticed the couple laying there moonbathing. Why anyone would layout in the sand almost naked in the freezing cold was beyond me, but people do weird things here in Sandcastle. I opened the window a little and screamed at them to run! I yelled as loud as I could but they must have been sleeping or had headphones on because my cries of emergency did nothing. I dialed 9-1-1 and yelled into the phone that something was on the beach ready to devour some people. At first, they just laughed and asked if I was recording for the show, but I begged them to listen, but it was too late. The oily blob of garbage had reached its destination for dinner.

As I screamed at the people laying there, it stopped and I think looked in my direction then continued to slither up the legs of the slumbering couple. It started up the feet, slowly taking its time to crawl up the legs then the screaming started.

The woman screamed first, “HELP! It burns!” she looked over to her lover, shaking him on the shoulders. She tried to stand but stumbled on only her ankle bones. Her feet were gone. Bones and all.

I watched in horror as it seemed to eat her flesh into its own body. Not with a mouth or teeth, but simply quickly digesting the pieces with its touch and sucking them in. I snatched a lighter from the cabinet and as I ran down the stairs I grabbed the bottle of lighter fluid from the BBQ pit. I wasn’t going to wait for the cops to arrive.

By the time I reached the couple, all that was left of the woman was her upper torso. She was already dead. The man had rolled over and tried to crawl away with his arms but whatever this hungry beast was had already devoured his lower legs. I tossed the lighter fluid all over the stench monster and made a trail of it toward the ocean. It took no notice of me as it continued to crawl up what remained of the woman.

As I lit the trail of flammable liquid, it immediately burst into flames and crawled its way to the creature. Small explosions from something greasy and vile filled the night and so did the smell yet it didn’t stop the horrifying splotch of mess from finishing off the head of the woman. The fire got bigger and brighter as it grew with each bite.

With nothing left to attack it with, I ran back to the lighthouse and called the emergency line again and as I did, I noticed the thing was on its way here. The man was gone, most likely devoured by the thing.

“Hurry!” I yelled into the phone and left it off the hook. I watched as it wrapped its body around the base of the cliff surrounding the lighthouse and began inching its way up the hill.

Panicked and with nowhere else to run, I ran up the stairs into the old control room, grabbing an old protective headset along the way. The foghorn hadn’t been used to warn the ships since the new automated one was installed on the other side of the cliff except to impress tourists who came by in the summer–something I learned to help with to keep the radio station open. I prayed the system still worked and the fuel tanks were filled as I covered my ears with the earplugs and the headphones then turned on the generator and the compressor.

I waited for the pressure to build to the right setting and just as the needle hit it, I could see the decomposing fingers of a person surrounded by greenish-black goop reach up to the glass of the window. The sound of the horn began to fill the night and as it did, I felt the bottom of the lighthouse shake a little. I looked out of the window to see the wretched mass of stench trembling and falling off onto the ground. Its body detached from the stone walls with a loud slurp and thudded onto the earth. As it made its way back into the ocean, the lights of several police cars reflected off the incoming fog from the cliff adjacent to the lighthouse. Whether it was the vibrations or the sound, I don’t know, but it was gone back into the depths from which is came.

“Are you ok, Ms. Rhodes?” I heard the Sheriff ask as I took off the headset.

“Did you see it?” I shouted. I couldn’t hear my voice for a moment, still rattled by the sound of the horn.

“We just got here. Didn’t see anything. What happened?”

I pointed toward the beach where the couple was devoured. Nothing was left except an oily residue from the creature. The same residue that surrounded the bottom of the lighthouse. He said they would take samples and notify me. They would also investigate the couple because no one, not even I, had a clue as to who they were. It was all that could be done, for, in Sandcastle, many deaths and disappearances go unsolved.

Stay tuned for Story Number 2

(COMMERCIAL)

Story Number 2

Day of the Shadow

A Creepypasta by Aadvaki

Have you heard of The Blob?

It’s a horror film from the 50s, remade in the 80s, about a moving pink blob that ate people through its skin and dissolved them, growing larger and larger.

You might be wondering why the hell I brought it up… well, the being I encountered was like the Blob, only… well… you’ll see.

As all cliched horror stories start out, I happened to be in a dark and stormy night, with a microburst taking care of the lack of light. I had a generator, but foolishly decided not to waste it; I didn’t have candles, either, so the only light I had was the occasional flashes of lightning.

As I curled up in my bed – yet another classic horror cliche – hoping to enjoy the constant pitter-patter of rain slowly edging me into sleep, I did happen to notice some shadows caused by the lightning to be a bit longer than usual. Thoughts of monsters and shit went through my mind, though of course, I ignored it. As the human does when confronted with scariness, I began noticing more things: pipes banging. Odd noises. An object’s slight movement.

Nothing really creeped me out; until I heard a strange noise, that really couldn’t be explained. It sounded like someone’s stomach rumbling, only, imagine it sounded more like a moan and not your stomach. Like I said, to explain it, I’d have to really go descriptive on your ass, and to waste time on shit like that isn’t my intent.

What made this noise worse than just a few bangs in the night was that it was constant. Not constant sound, though, as it faded, then rose in volume yet again. It more irritated me then anything, but of course, I just rationalized. Now, I’m not going to say, “It was the worse mistake I’ve ever made,” because I’m actually in a pretty good situation right now because of the fucker. I got up to go to the bathroom, did my business, and was about to climb back into bed when I saw myself sleeping in it.

That meant one of three things. Either I was high/hallucinating, dead, or in some really stupid nightmare. I decided to take nightmare.

“Hello?” I said. Might as well follow along and get this over with. “We’re in a fucking dream, you know. Just scare me and be done with this.”

Then the doppelganger in the bed opened its eyes and snapped its head up, a loud crack resonating. I’ve seen and never been afraid of jump scares, but I was a little freaked about the neck snap. Also, the eyes of my clone were pitch black. No life within them. And by black, I mean everything was black; iris, pupil, even the outsides of its eyes were black.

Then my clone began… melting, into this black, gooey shit. I wouldn’t be scared, except that his entire body EXCEPT for the head began melting. Another thing; it seemed like at its touch, the bed was… being sucked into this thing.

I kept telling myself it was a nightmare, it’s a nightmare. But when you have a pile of black shit eating away at your bed while a black tentacle slowly lifts your cloned face up and your cloned face has black eyeballs (my god that was a mouthful), it’s kinda freaky. But I held my ground all the same. Its head, with still lifeless eyes, was cocked, as if saying, “U scared bro?”

Then what it did next really creeped me out. It became me again, while I could hear several lovely popping sounds, only this time its hand was completely black. It placed its black hand on the bed.

I heard this loud, noisy slurping sound, and the bed, already half gone, was sucked into the creature. Grinning at me, it revealed a toothless mouth and a long black floppy tongue. It was at this I began to back away.

The creature’s fingers extended, becoming black and slimy, shooting themselves at lightning speed toward my bedstand. The slime engulfed it, and the fingers returned back to the doppelganger. Its grin became wider, to the point where it divided its face in half by a thick line of black. It seemed to say that it could get me anywhere.

I pray for my dog to go to heaven today. Poor little guy had been woken up by all this commotion and ran into my room yapping loudly. This drew the creature’s attention. Snap, sucking noise, gulp, and the pup was no more.

I took the opportunity to begin running, specifically for the icebox. I had seen The Blob, and had the lame-ass idea of using ice against this similar creature. I could hear the sucking noises, now seemingly angry, coming from behind me, but eventually I reached the icebox, right next to the generator for convenience. I reached in, grabbed a cold cube, and lobbed it at the fucker.

The ice cube bounced off of it.

In my despair, I wondered how that could make any sense. This thing could consume both biological and non-biological forms, so why did ice bounce off of it? The thing seemed to slow down as I tried to go through every scientific explanation for this.

I decided option 2. Turn the generator on. Lights turned on throughout the house, not immediately, but quickly enough to see clearly what was coming at me. A doppelganger of myself, with veins of black rippling through it. Faces, some human, and some animal also rippled through it. Though, I noticed one thing about it.

All sorts of animals were in there, but leeches, dead of course, hung from the black parts of its skin.

This meant it clearly had a foreign chemical structure, probably not known by anything on the planet. So, if that meant nothing on the planet could stand against it…

I grabbed a nearby metal bar. I think it might have been part of a basketball hoop I was thinking of setting up near the generator (I don’t get it either) as I felt the coldness of the creature’s melted arm on my skin.

But before it could suck me in, I smashed the bar against the generator. Sparks flew from where I hit it like a football player’s wife. I hit it again, hard.

The electronic circuits banged into each other, deep inside the generator, and actual flame burst out of it. Flames that just came into existence are the hottest, and immediately I thrust the black slime into it. I felt pain, but honestly, I didn’t care. The thing felt even more pain.

The lifeless eyes bore into mine, black into my brown. It tilted its head yet again, afraid of the fire, but still looking lunch right in the eye.

I stabbed that fucking generator as hard as I could as it transformed again, this time into one of the heads that occasionally flickered throughout its form. The flames now leapt in bounds, consuming me, as another tentacle zoomed toward me. I grabbed it with my blazing hands, laughing sadistically as it tried to wriggle free.

This time, I leapt toward it, while it kept changing forms. It still kept those black, black eyes that were still lifeless as I pounded it, burning and destroying it. Flames roared from the generator, incinerating the roof and allowing the torrent of rain to come in. The burning generator couldn’t take the rain along with the damage done to it anymore, and we were consumed in the fiery explosion that ensued.

So now I’m in the hospital for what the doctors joke as, “fourth degree burns”. Nothing was found at the destroyed house, so I assume that monster got away or was destroyed. Either way, as long as it’s not here, I’m completely fine.

So now I have this new nurse. She’s a bit lifeless and from what I can gather, incredibly hungry, and I think she wears a bit too much mascara, but she’s awfully pretty with those black, black eyes…

Dark blue anyway.

Stay tuned for Story Number 3

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Story Number 3

Plumbing

A Creepypasta by PoonDragoon

A story from Suburban Missouri.

The Gurgle

When I was nine, we moved to a new neighborhood. It was a little cul-de-sac in the (then) developing ‘burbs of Columbia, Missouri. Nice and cheery, but farther out from the middle of town, so I had to ride the bus into town. On the plus side, however, my best friend, Sam, lived two doors down so I had some company. The night we moved in I asked my parents if Sam could spend the night, and they agreed. My Mom got some pizza rolls and Dr.

Thunder for us while we played. Most of my toys were still in boxes stacked in my room except for my favorites, so Sam brought some of his. Snake Eyes and Kopaka were duking it out against Megatron and The Makuta to save Action Man from their evil clutches. Kopaka had frozen Megatron’s T. rex feet when we heard slow gurgling coming from underneath the floorboards. My little sister had just gone to the bathroom, so I figured it was the house’s plumbing, but Sam insisted that it was an evil blob monster that he had “totally seen get a cat” a few months ago. I told him that was stupid, he called me stupid, and the insults escalated to “fart eater” when Mom called from the kitchen to get pizza rolls and soda.

That night, after Action Man’s heroic rescue, I laid awake in my sleeping bag thinking about the “blob” in the plumbing. The previous school year, Sam had done a piece for our class’ writer’s workshop about “The Blob that Ate Cats”. It was a silly little story about a monster that lived in the storm drains and plotted to eat every cat in the world. The class thought it was funny, but Sam insisted that it was real to the point of the teacher taking him outside and talking to him. The next morning, Sam went back home and I helped my parents unpack.

Erin, my little sister, took up a lot of Dad’s time; she was bored and wanted something to do. In the week that followed we managed to unpack everything, just in time for school to start. It was a crummy way to end the summer, but when my parents gave me a new Bionicle Hordika poster to put in my room, I didn’t mind so much. I lay in bed that night, looking across the room at the Toa Hordika swinging valiantly through the green webs of their ruined city and wondered what we were going to do tomorrow. I was so preoccupied by thoughts of starting Fourth Grade that I didn’t notice the gurgling noise at first. It seemed to come from the floor just underneath my bed. My imagination took over, filling my head with pictures of vicious squishy monsters. I pulled my head underneath the covers and waited for morning to come.

When it did come, my Mom woke me up to get ready for the first day of school. When I had finished my scrambled eggs I ran out to the bus stop to wait with Sam. We talked and joked about our new teacher (whom neither of us had met) and how much of a dragon lady she was going to be. At school, it turned out that Mrs. Torbett was a very nice middle-aged lady.

She had us all draw pictures of what we did over the summer, then go in front of the class and tell the rest of the students about it. She didn’t even mind that I had drawn a Bionicle helping us carry boxes into the new house and told me it was a “Very nice imaginative touch.” Then it was Sam’s turn. Sam, with a customary troublesome smirk on his face, held up a picture of him and me playing with toys. The picture didn’t stop there; it cut away through the floor to show a dark, grey-black mass, all rounded humps and waving tentacles, chasing a cat through the sewer.

My heart sank as he told the class about hearing the blob in my room. The class laughed, most of them being veterans of Sam’s old blob story. Sam, very unusually, turned red and stamped his little feet, and started shouting, “It’s true! It’s true!”

He looked at me, as if for confirmation, but all I could do was put my head on my desk. The teacher politely asked Sam to “quit disrupting”, then called for a member of the faculty to take him to the Principal’s office. The rest of the day proceeded normally, but without Sam.

On the bus ride home, Sam refused to sit with me, and I rode in shamed silence, feeling like a total sellout. He didn’t even say goodbye when we got off. Any sadness I felt that afternoon as I sat in my room and moped evaporated when I saw Mom coming home with a familiar snout hanging out the back window. I rushed outside to greet the family’s old Rat Terrier, Pumpkin, to our new home. She barked and jumped, trying to lick my face as I patted her. After letting her sniff around outside and do her business, Mom led her inside. Pumpkin froze in the doorframe, ears pricked, stump of a tail tucked in tight.

She sniffed the floor apprehensively and took a few gingerly steps inside, never letting her guard down. Mom explained that dogs were sometimes cautious about visiting new places. That night, I woke up with a start. Pumpkin, curled up next to me when I went to bed, was now whimpering and yipping, standing at the edge of the bed. The gurgling noise was back. Pumpkin gave a few half-hearted yips and cowered into me, shaking. As she whimpered helplessly, I tried soothing her with a few strokes down her quaking back, but the gurgling noise persisted.

Then I felt something warm spreading from where the dog lay, curled and shaking. My back turned cold and icy. I knew that dogs only peed like that when they were very afraid. This was pumpkin! A terrier, who as a puppy used to thrash rats nearly her own size, terrified and peeing the bed. Something was very wrong. The gurgling sound seemed to move slowly around the room, then stopped entirely. But even once it was quiet, I was too terrified to move, and fell back asleep sometime before dawn, still cradling the scared old girl.

The next morning, I didn’t tell my parents what had happened, afraid they wouldn’t believe me, or wouldn’t let Pumpkin sleep with me anymore. Instead I made some story about having a nightmare and accidentally wetting the bed. They gave me a sad look, but didn’t press the issue any further. That day at school, I apologized to Sam on the playground and we were best friends again. I told him about Pumpkin, and he stood there with the cheap playground hula hoop in his hand and said nothing. I didn’t hear the noise again until the middle of September.

The night Pumpkin disappeared. It was around eleven at night, late for me, when pumpkin woke me up by jumping off the bed and scratching at my bedroom door to be let out. Groggily, I took her to the back yard to go to the bathroom. I stood by the sliding glass door, my back turned to give her some privacy. Not that I was squeamish about that thing, but since she was a puppy, Pumpkin had refused to poop unless she had some space to herself. I heard a single strangled yelp and jumped, turned to the glass door. Pumpkin was gone.

I cried out and ran to my parents’ room, gibbering about the poor old dog. Mom and Dad got up, sleepily confused, but seeming to get the gist. Dad searched the yard and the woods behind the fence with a flashlight, shaking a cup of dog food, a flawless tactic, while Mom sat in the living room with me, calming me down and asking what had happened. I told her about the past five minutes, she assured me that it wasn’t my fault, that Pumpkin had probably just squeaked through the loose boards in the fence and had pinched herself, and that Dad would be back any minute now, Pumpkin in tow, and that everything would be okay. It was half an hour before Dad got back. No Pumpkin.

We called the humane society for weeks afterward, but no dog matching old Punk’s description had been found. Eventually, the family seemed to forget about the sweet old girl, but in the back of my mind, something was wrong. In all the searching of those days, they had missed something. In my neighborhood, the back yards were built with a drainage system to prevent flooding. The yards shared a common drainpipe, the size of a man’s head, curved a few inches down so that nobody could stick their foot in it, covered with a metal grate. The drain was in our yard, and on that night, the grate had been off.

November now, I hadn’t heard the gurgling noise since Pumpkin had vanished, and had almost forgotten about it. I was taking a shower after school with my favorite watermelon shampoo, rinsing the stuff out of my hair, eyes closed against the sting. I felt something, cold where the water was hot, touch my foot. I opened my eyes with a gasp in time to see something black-brown slither through the drain. I screamed and jumped out of the shower, suds clinging to my hair.

Something gurgled and banged against the lid of the toilet and I bolted from the bathroom, dripping wet. I screamed and sobbed my way to my room and cowered on the bed, my wet skin soaking the comforter. I heard the gurgle creep up on me, to my room. Between sobs and moans I could hear it, gurgling and bubbling underneath my bed. The gurgling sounded almost hungry. My Mom found me there, curled up, damp, and naked, sobbing on the bed. She put Erin in her room and came to my side. I flinched from her hands until I realized who it was. I flung myself onto her, sobbing and gasping, and before she could ask what was wrong I told her everything.

The noises, Sam, Pumpkin getting scared and peeing the bed, hearing the noise before she disappeared, about the shower and the toilet. She stroked my hair, understanding in her voice, and told me that everything was okay. That I shouldn’t blame myself for what happened to Pumpkin, that sometimes dogs just run off. I pulled away from her and looked at her like she was crazy. What didn’t she get? Did she think that I was making up a story to cover my grief? I kept insisting that that wasn’t the case. She conceded, and told me that tonight we were getting to the bottom of this.

That night, a Friday night, she stayed up with me in my room, waiting to hear something. Sure enough, the gurgling noise came crawling underneath the floor. It seemed to come from right underneath where we sat on the floor, playing with legos. Seeing me starting to get scared, she instead reached out a hand and told me to listen. I listened. She said that the noise was just the plumbing acting up, that what I felt in the shower was just cold water, the shampoo going down the drain played tricks on me. That the toilet banging was just from me jumping around.

To prove it, she told Dad to go to land developers the next day and get a blueprint of the house to show me where the plumbing was. When Dad got home the next day, he looked confused. He talked with Mom, showed her something on paper. She went white faced and looked like she was about to scream. She didn’t know I was watching them from around the corner. They left the blueprints on the table to go talk in the other room. I snuck into the kitchen and grabbed them off the table. My heart stopped when I got to the schematic of my room.

None of the House’s plumbing went underneath it.

Hey it’s Boo

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