Episode Details

Hey! It's Memorial Day. A day I reflect on the lives lost protecting the country. We used to  go to the lake on Memorial Day in the past but we never forgot the real meaning of it. The celebration wasn't to celebrate the day, but to be honor the lives lost in battle. Of course we had burgers, hotdogs, and beer but still, the meaning is the same. Warriors and heroes never forgotten.These days, we don't get to the lake all that often since we don't have a boat. It was my brother's boat and that was a long time ago. I'll be making a homemade pizza  for my son and I while remembering the sacrifices made instead of being on a boat and drinking beer. Are you doing anything today? Let me know in the comments :)I'll be adding hopefully a few episodes to Patreon today so I can finally get ahead after the last few crazy months I've had. Scared Little Boy Finds the Demon of VengeanceGood evening, it's Spooky Boo Rhodes coming to you from the lighthouse in the cursed town of Sandcastle, California. Tonight I have for you a story about a scared little boy, abused by his uncle, who eventually gets his revenge. They say that revenge is sweet, and sometimes it tastes a little bloody.Before I begin I'd like to thank the listeners and Patreon members including madjoe, Bobbi Elliot, PA Nightmares, Ivy Iverson, John Newby, Patrick, and 933TheVolt.com. If you would like to support the show and get the podcast commercial free, please visit my Patreon page at www.patreon.com/spookybooscarystorytime or my website at www.scarystorytime.com/support.Now let's begin...Creature in the Closetby Jake WickAuthor's Note: Go grab "Nightmares at 3 AM" for your KINDLE!The first thing nine-year-old Bobby associated with that old farmhouse was this weird, musty smell. That was the end of him growing accustomed to the place, at least for a while. His uncle purchased the house because of the price and because of the economic opportunity the surrounding farmland provided. If he had bought it based on looks, one would have to question his taste.

The Kentucky farmhouse was about a hundred years old, and at least three families, one from Romania and two from the states, had lived in it since it had been built. Not even the previous landowner knew much else of the history surrounding the old place, he only held onto the property for as long as he could put the land into tiptop shape in order to turn a profit. The man barely touched the house itself, save for a new paint job on the worn wooden exterior.Bobby could already picture that dank scent as he and his uncle pulled up to the front of the house. The car was packed to the brim, to the point that Uncle Todd could barely see through the back window.“And here we are,” said Uncle Todd, in his typical casual tone. For Todd, everything was done out of a certain level of obligation. One could reckon that he took on this attitude when Bobby’s parents passed in a car accident. But his attitude didn’t quite match his actions, as he was anything but a supportive guardian.All Bobby could think about was the smell of that house and of how just about every floorboard wailed when stepped on.“Let’s go,” Todd continued, “get your shit.”Bobby got out of the car and began grabbing bags. Todd would periodically scold him, giving him a mini-lecture on the proper way to carry bags. Bobby second-guessed everything he did, and it was no wonder as to why.When Bobby entered the house, that musty stink blasted its way into his nostrils. He could swear he saw a mouse scurry across the floor, but he would say nothing of it to Todd, who would likely slap him around a bit for making things up. He could already hear what Todd would