There's A Shack Called 'The Devil's Toy Box' In Louisiana And People Who Go In There Supposedly Lose Their Minds

There’s A Shack Called ‘The Devil’s Toy Box’ In Louisiana And People Who Go In There Supposedly Lose Their Minds

I spent 25 seconds inside the Devil’s Toy Box. That’s how long it took for Jason to run my car into it. Thankfully, the Cherokee was still drivable afterward and we promptly got the fuck out of there.

I dropped Erin off at her house, telling her I was sorry and that there was nothing else I could do. Honestly, I don’t know what she expected from me. This isn’t Supernatural. If your boyfriend is missing, you call the cops. I’m going home.

Do I feel bad that I couldn’t help her? Sure, but for what it’s worth, we disabled the Toy Box and probably saved countless generations of dumb kids from making the same mistake as Troy. The bad news is that doing so has almost certainly scarred me for life. Even as I sit here days later, writing this all down for the second time, I’m still worried that it’s not over. I’m worried that when I wake up tomorrow, it’s going to be in front of that goddamn box.


About the author

Joel Farrelly

When Joel isn’t writing creepy-ass short stories, he can be found scripting and acting in subversive comedy sketches on YouTube. You can follow Joel on Twitter or support him on Patreon, if you’re into that.