Well, I’m back again everyone.
Firstly, I want to express that this story, though it may be short, is too long to post onto any subreddit because of an unaddressed bug for iOS devices, so therefore, I have to break it up into multiple posts. Ugh….
Anyway…
I recently posted something that happened to me entitled “The Devil at my Door.”
I’ve had some apparent interest in the story via dms and I didn’t really expect it to even get a single upvote but hey, I’ll take it.
Ever since that fateful encounter with the devil, I have been haunted and followed by spirits, so I figured I might as well post another encounter with something demonic.
My ex-girlfriend and I decided to go to my hometown of Reno Nevada for our vacation.
Let’s call her Carolina for privacy purposes.
Carolina had never really seen the snow as she was born and raised in LA.
I hadn’t seen my family since I moved to LA five years prior, so it seemed like the thing to do.
When my band used to tour, I used an app a lot called “Hotel Tonight”.
Basically you swoop up a room for half off, give or take. I think it had to do with last minute cancellations or whatever.
I never had an issue with the app and I raved about it to my musician friends.
That was the last time I would ever use the app and now I gladly pay full price for rooms when I need them.
Here’s why.
The app located a room at the Circus Circus casino downtown.
The casino always creeped me out because it was in the realm of liminal spaces.
The midway was always empty perpetually. There were scattered arcades with the machines all flashing and making noise, but no children anywhere to be found.
The concierge informed us that we would be in room 316 on the 16th floor.
Upon arriving at our room, we both immediately noticed the macabre and downright satanic paintings that adorned every wall.
They were a lot of headless clowns and ball shaped entities stuck behind cages, juggling that kind of looked like tweedle dee and tweedle dum from Alice in wonderland.
There were even baphomet looking goat men entities depicted in several of the paintings.
The creatures in the paintings were all seemingly in various states of bondage.
“Nope!” Carolina said.
She tried to remove a painting but found it was tightly attached to the wall with nails or super glue.
I tried to do the same thing and found that the paintings were not going anywhere.
We took all the clean towels and covered the macabre paintings and collapsed into bed.
That night I had the worst sleep paralysis episode I had ever had.
I just remember that I was sitting up in bed, looking at the door to our room because something was behind the door that made me bolt up and start sweating, despite the brumal chill that came over the room.
The sound of as like a cat scratching to be let inside.
Suddenly the door burst open violently and there was an apparition of an elderly woman in a pure white evening gown.
She was levitating about a couple feet off the ground. Her eyes were white like a severely blind old dog.
Below her there were snake like lizards that made figure eights, chasing each others tails in some ritualistic undulating circle.
The apparition floated to the foot of my bed. Her arms were outstretched in front of her, shoulder height like Frankenstein and the lizards followed her wherever she went.
The old woman began shrieking like a banshee and the room filled with blinding white light.
Next I’m laying in bed screaming and Carolina is shaking me out of my vivid and lucid sleep paralysis.
She was terrified.
I sprung out of bed and ran to the door to see if it was still locked.
We tried to shrug it off and return to bed but the room was so I cold I was expecting to see my own breath.
Carolina pointed out that something sounded like it was scratching the window lightly and a distended humanoid shadow was cast across the wall.
I opened the curtains to see if it may be hail making the noise as we were way too high up for it to be anything else.
The shadow figure would vanish each time I yanked the blinds open but it and the scratching would manifest again a few minutes later each time.
The thermostat said the room was 80 degrees and we had the cranked to no avail. It would get progressively colder and colder each night until exactly sunrise and then it seemed the heater would finally function properly.
So, I gave up on sleeping but my girlfriend slept well into the afternoon.
I called down for more towels but nobody came so after an hour I took the one down that we had hung over easily the must unnerving painting in the whole room.
Just above the toilet was the saddest sack of shit wino clown that appeared to have the wounds of Christ in its wrists and of course, just behind the clown was like a wendigo or skinwalker entity that I hadn’t noticed initially.
Regarding the painting, my girlfriend took pictures of all of them just because she knew that no one back home would believe that they were real. Also, they were so complicated that it’s truly hard to describe exactly what was going on in each one. The best comparison I could make was if Hieronymus Bosch used oil paints and charcoal on an average sized canvas and had a hard on for clowns.
After a year or so, she and I both felt that the photos of the paintings should be deleted as we both experienced frequent sleep paralysis the following year or so. Part of me regrets that decision.
Oh well.
It was 2016 so it didn’t help that it was that year where disturbing clowns were popping up all over to the point where McDonald’s nixed Ronald McDonald for good.
So, there I am in the shower with my back to Clowny McAntichrist and I’m feeling distinctly like I’m being watched.
I allow myself to revisit my nightmare from the night before but suddenly there was only one thing I could think about…
The disembodied, Krusty the Clown cartoonish laughter that suddenly manifested near my right ear.
I yanked the shower in the direction I thought was off and ended up scalding my neck and butt and almost completely ate it.
I pulled the shower curtain open from the other side and searched the entire room for whatever made that noise.
At this point, I was convinced that it was my turn to go crazy seeing as my older brother lost his mind around the same age. That’s another story but he is a homeless schizophrenic meth head who talks to himself and went full on Syd Barret with out any prior indication of mental health problems.
Heartbreaking as my brothers descent into madness was, I was selfishly more afraid of waking up one day just as insane as he is.
I couldn’t tell Carolina what I was experiencing. If I was losing it, she is the last one I would want to find out about it.
We went to a dinner show thing at a Japanese restaurant called Ichiban.
Our cook was awful.
He kept tossing onions into his hat and missing the mark. He dropped his spatulas like five times while attempting to juggle and flustered, he served everyone the wrong dishes.
It was Carolinas birthday and the staff sang happy birthday to another Korean girl sitting at our table and called her Carolina.
I never needed a drink so bad in my life.