Episode Details

TranscriptGood evening, it's Spooky Boo coming to you from the lighthouse in Sandcastle, California over the radio waves of the KSND radion station, the sound of the sea. Tonight I have for you a very spooky Halloween story from the depths of the internet. This week it is Halloween in Sandcastle and what a fun time that is for the land of purgatory. The spirits and the souls will be wandering the land while the cryptids and vampires devour whatever they can find. And here I sit in the midst of it all telling you stories of all things spooky and scary.Coming up on Halloween will be another Sandcastle Horror installment. Be sure to tune in then to get the lastest of my sordid tales of this demented place.This spooky podcast would not be possible without the listeners and the Patreon members including madjoe, P.A. Nightmares, Ivy Iverson, Jenn Mishievous, John Newby, Patrick, and 933TheVolt.com. If you would like to become a supporter of Spooky Boo's Scary Story Time, visit www.scarystorytime.com/support to find out how you can help keep the show on the air.Now let's begin...From Hell I WriteWritten by Jake WickI write to you now, but I do not write from my room, with a bed so soft and a window so bright. I do not write from my home, with couches so comfortable and food so... so good. Oh, food, how I miss it. Water, too. If I could get one drop, oh how I would thank God... well, I'd thank someone for it, anyways. I do not write from my tree house, among friends so dear and chirping birds so near. I do not write even from the world you live in right now. No, I write from a place much, much worse. It's ironic because during my last moments in the world, I couldn't imagine any sort of place worse than the place we call Earth. I thought such a place couldn't possibly exist. How wrong I was. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Patrick, and for you to understand my train of thought, I'll need to take you back a little. Back to the world God (your God, no longer mine) put me on.Oh, the 80's, what a time to be alive. Great movies, great music (somewhat), great friends, great family, great house, great life, great... sorry, I'm rambling. Eleven years old, that was me, living in a suburban home with my mother, Sarah, my dad, Vincent, my asshole 13-year-old twin brothers, Darren and Bryce, and of course, my five-year-old sister, Nancy. Come to think of it, I wonder how she's doing right now, sweet little Nancy. She was always so precious, so innocent. I hope what we went through together never changed that. Anyhow, I can remember the day so clearly.I was playing a basketball game of two-on-one (I was the one) with Darren and Bryce. The two jerks were creaming me, of course, never hasting to shove me around and taunt me. "Patrick, you're ass at this", they would say. Well, of course I was "ass", I was an eleven-year-old playing two-on-one against two thirteen-year-old pricks. Actually, you know something? I'm gonna stop calling them names. See, when you're on Earth, it's easy to call your family members names and quarrel with them constantly. Where I am now, though, you'd give anything just to hug them for five seconds and tell them how much you love them. Oops, I'm rambling, again. Well, soon enough, our mother called us in, as we were having some guests over that night. Our new neighbors.The new neighbors in question were the Hoffmister family. Up to that point, all I had heard my brothers say about the Hoffmisters were things like "They're creepy as shit", and "Weird-ass people who gotta go". I didn't share these opinions, they seemed like okay people to me. Nonetheless, the Hoffmisters came over that night. The family consiste