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

“Into the fuckin’ woods! Where do you THINK? I opened that door and he came shootin’ out, dick flappin’ naked from the waist down. Had his boxers on his head and his pants wrapped around his neck like a scarf. It was honestly pretty funny,” Will said.

Erin covered her mouth with her hand as her eyes began to well with tears. Will grinned. “You wanna see inside?” he asked.

“We aren’t here for the box,” I said, stepping in front of Erin and glaring at Will.

“But it’s so breathtaking,” The man said as he gestured toward the Toy Box’s wide door, which slowly swung open. The interior was shrouded in darkness, but I could still see something vaguely human-shaped moving around inside. Yeah, fuck that.

“Run!” I grabbed Erin by the arm and pulled her along with me as I sprinted away from the Toy Box. I could hear something chasing after us as we ran back toward the orchard’s entrance and I say “something” because it certainly didn’t sound like a person. What I heard weren’t footsteps, but rather one long scraping sound, accompanied by a wet breathing that reminded me of a panting dog.

Thankfully, Jason heard me screaming just as he and Gretchen reached my car. They turned to spot me and Erin running towards them with identical expressions of pants-shitting terror. Jason must’ve caught a glimpse of the thing chasing after us too because his own face went pale.

He quickly unlocked my car and threw himself behind the wheel, screaming for Gretchen to get in. She hurried into the passenger seat and the moment she buckled her seatbelt, he started the engine and accelerated toward us, closing the gap in a matter of moments.

Jason slammed on the brakes as he neared and the car screeched to a halt inches away from us. I went to open the back passenger door but it was locked. So was Erin’s side. I banged my fist on the window and pointed down at the locking mechanism. Jason mouthed, “Oh SHIT!”

He turned and scanned the door controls on the driver’s side, looking for the master switch. The scraping sound was growing closer, but I refused to look back and banged on the window once more. A frustrated Jason finally leaned into the backseat and unlocked the door manually, but by then, it already had me.


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.