25 Feb Dämonen Münze

Posted at 11:00h in Ancient Artifacts, Beings and Entities, Body Horror, Curses and Cursed Objects, Deaths, Murders, and Disappearances, Demons and Possession, Despair and Depression, Domestic Life and Relationships, Family and Generational Horror, Historical Fiction, Madness, Paranoia, and Mental Illness, Magic, Witchcraft, and the Occult, Military and Warfare, Period Pieces, Psychological Horror, Real-Life Horrors, Rites and Rituals, Slashers and Gore, Suspense and Thrillers, Torture and Cannibalism by CreepypastaStories.com 0 Comments

📅 Published on February 25, 2025

“Dämonen Münze”

Written by Mike Mann
Edited by Craig Groshek
Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek
Narrated by N/A

Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on CreepypastaStories.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).

🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available

⏰ ESTIMATED READING TIME — 35 minutes

Rating: 10.00/10. From 1 vote.

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Part I

On February 22nd, 1923, two young individuals welcomed their newborn baby boy to the world. The parents of young Alvin were Allison and Justin Boone, born and raised in the small town of Johnston City, Illinois. They were high school sweethearts who eloped at an early age. They moved in with Justin’s father to save money. Allison took the role of a typical housewife, while Justin assumed a serious role in his family business after his own father had fallen ill due to liver failure. The Boone Plumbing Company had suffered over the years thanks to Justin’s father succumbing to Alcoholism in the worst way. Justin thought the occasional drink was fine, but in the case of his father, two to three bottles became an everyday occurrence. Within six years, Justin was solely running the company while his father remained in an alcohol-induced purgatory. This created a whirlwind of stress as Justin fumbled to keep the business afloat. It became harder and harder to come home and pretend that everything was perfectly fine. Allison saw through the facade, and young Alvin had little interaction with his daddy.

The boiling pot of anxiety and debt barely subsided even after Justin hired a few people to help lighten the load. He saw no point in keeping his father involved with the business, so he fired him. This caused a fight that ended with the old man having a heart attack and dying right inside the office. Justin didn’t cry at the funeral, and frankly, he had no feelings about watching his father die. Boone Plumbing Company was all his now, but he wasn’t proud of it. On top of inheriting the family business, Justin also took up the curse of the bottle. A year after the funeral, Justin was bringing his frustrations home with him. Screaming matches broke out almost every night, nearly all of them ending with Allison suffering a beating and Alvin crying in a corner. Fortunately for the now seven-year-old boy, he was too small to feel his father’s full wrath. For the time being, Allison was the only punching bag.

At the beginning of the Second World War, Alvin was seventeen and halfway through his final year of high school. Slowly becoming, at last, what his father expected—a man. Football and gym routines were a good source of relief for Alvin’s aggression and frustration from the dismal times at home. His father, Justin, was still running the plumbing company and now developed a habit of passing out drunk in the office. Drunk every day and fueled with anger always caused a darkness to fill the home. By this point, Allison had become a shell of her former self from all of the beatings she had received over the years. She had given up the will to do anything at all. Alvin tried his best to cheer his mother up, but she was too far gone. Occasionally, a smile would make an appearance, but her eyes always remained dead within. Every night, Justin would burst in with a drunken rage. Lashing out at the scapegoat that was his wife. Alvin made the best effort to prevent the chaos, but every attempt ended in failure. For his efforts, he would receive blackened eyes, a bloody nose and once even a broken collar bone. Things never got better, they just remained the same, over and over again. A mind-numbing atmosphere filled with suffering along with so much hate that you could very well strangle someone with it.

The worst came on the day of Alvin’s eighteenth birthday, by this time he had finished school but did not follow in his father’s foot steps to join the family business. He had become hell-bent on leaving everything behind to join the fight against those “Nazi bastards,” as his father liked to call them. Justin was torn on his feelings about his son’s choices because on one hand Alvin would be in his eyes the ultimate man by going overseas to fight for his country but there was some hurt feelings and disappointment that the family business wouldn’t continue through the next generation. Sadly Justin’s constant intoxication had left him blind or maybe even naive to the fact that both his wife and son hated him with a passion. The truth was that Alvin wasn’t leaving to serve his country but planning to get as far away as possible. Justin lived in his own little world thanks to the bottle attached to his lips and the rose colored glasses permanently attached to his face. Blind to what reality was.

Although dead inside, Allison never missed out on the celebration of her baby boy’s birthday. Every year was the same occurrence and yet it made Alvin feel his happiest because it caused the rare occasion for his mother to show a sliver of her former self. A cherished moment indeed. She baked the same cake with a single candle, his age written out in icing. Justin would always be sitting in his chair with a drink in his hand while, barely present. Alison sang Happy Birthday in a weakened tone that somehow kept perfect harmony. There were no gifts given after Alvin had turned sixteen because a “real man” didn’t need anything he couldn’t earn himself. The lack of presents didn’t never bother Alvin because seeing the light briefly return to his mother was the only gift he looked forward to. But this birthday felt different than all of the others. Nothing in particular that the young man could point out yet, something in the air gave him a slight chill down his spine. Something weighed heavy on his heart, it could’ve been the news of leaving for boot camp but even that didn’t feel like enough to cause what he was feeling.

The day had went fairly well with a few friends accompanying Alvin, trotting down the streets of town to go check out the different shops and whatnot. They saw a few girls down by Larson’s corner store and told them about plans of the future after his return from the war. After a while it was time for Alvin to head home. As he approached, that heavy sensation pulled at his chest again. Walking to the steps, he noticed all the lights were off, save for the one farthest to the left of the house. Alvin turned the door handle to a living room drenched in complete darkness with only a sliver of light emitting from the cracked door of the hallway bathroom. It was completely silent which was almost deafening to his ears and the only sound heard was the beating of his increasingly thumping heart. He called out for his mother but the only reply was the echo of his own voice. His slow steps towards the bathroom were met with a soggy slurp of his foot to wet carpet. He paused for a brief moment to look down. The slim array of the bathroom light revealed a dark red stain. He gently pushed the door open, creating an obnoxious squeak. The next sound was that of a guttural wail from Alvin’s mouth.

He saw an arm dangling off the edge of the tub resembling that of a doll. His mother’s body was displayed in a watery red pool filled with her own blood. The fluid had escaped from slashes across various parts of her face and body. She was savagely stabbed and cut from something that left long and jagged wounds. A massive gash on the side of her neck was still releasing droplets of crimson that fell into the tub. Alvin dry heaved when he noticed that her left eye socket was in full grisly display with the eyeball itself hanging by a single strand of muscle tissue. The orb rested on his mother’s cheek. It was clear that this attack had been fierce and fueled by hate, judging by the blood that splattered the walls, mirror and even parts hitting the ceiling with such veracity. This was an act of pure primal rage with intent to completely destroy. Alvin’s eyes burned from the bright light, and his throat was sore from the continuous screaming that spewed out. The sound echoed so loudly through the house that his ears began to ring in pain. The kindest woman he had ever known was gone and destroyed in the most savage way he could have possibly imagined. His mind raced, his legs shook and grisly thoughts kept bouncing within his head until it all fell silent with the muffled sound of someone’s laughter.

It was a slow slurred chuckle coming from somewhere behind him, far off in the distance. Alvin wasn’t entirely sure where or from whom it was coming from. The sound snapped him back to reality. He got to his feet to try and discover what sick bastard thought his mother’s murder was so goddamn funny. The ominous laughter continued, pausing briefly for the person to catch their breath in order to start back up again. The melody of the sound led him to the garage, which was located on the opposite end of the hallway from the front of the house. Alvin didn’t grab anything to defend himself or even prepare for an attack because, to him, world had ended. He was ready if he was to be next on the murder list. He opened the door to the garage where the sinister tones resonated loudly from the throat of his drunken and bloodied father. Lit up by a rusty lamp set on a small makeshift end table, Justin Boone was sitting in a wicker chair cackling.

A full bottle of liquor in one hand and a broken one in the other that was dripping blood from a shattered end. Alvin flipped the main light switch to iliminate his father in a chair giggling with a cigarette set between his lips. The man’s eyes were barely opened and completely bloodshot from obvious gulps that had emptied the shattered bottle the one bottle. Alvin spewed the words from the bottom of his gut to catch the monster’s attention, “What did you do?! What did you do to her?!” His throat ached after the release of words. His father was beyond drunk at this point, so it took several moments before the words even registered in his head or even realized who had spoken them. Finally, Justin looked up at his shaking and distraught son then paused before smirking to spit out a response.

“ooooooh….h-h-heey birshday boyee.” A huge glob of saliva slowly oozed from his bottom lip. “I’m ssssssooo glud you m-m-made it.” Every word was like a nail being driven into Alvin’s skull. He was dumbfounded as to what he should even do at this point with his father so far gone. He wanted to strangle the heartless son of a bitch, but his body refused to move. He remained frozen as if completely paralyzed. Justin shifted in his chair, opened one eye wide in an attempt to really focus on Alvin, and then let out another chuckle before slurring once more. “It wash jut er time ta go.” A sickening grin stretched along each corner of that disheveled face. The monster spoke again. “Hey b-b-boy…..lisken. I had to do it.

He inhaled from his cigarette then gave a long exhale that released a toxic cloud of smoke. “Sees you in hell, boy.”

Before Alvin could move or utter a word, Justin took a huge gulp from one bottle and then dropped it before raising the broken one to his throat. With a fierce stabbing motion, he pierced open the flesh of his neck and continued to tear open the wound, revealing muscle and tendons that were being drowned in a river of red. He coughed and gurgled, spilling blood in a projectile motion that landed onto Alvin’s shoes. The birthday boy watched the bottle drop from his father’s dead hand and the blood drain from the enormous laceration until it finally became a slow drip.

Hours passed before Alvin could leave that frozen state to call the cops and report the murder-suicide of his parents. There was never a true explanation as to why his father really killed his mother other than that garbled drunken nonsense ejected from his mouth. The question would never be answered, neither would the question as to why the Boone Plumbing Company building had been vandalized and odd unintelligible phrases scrolled in what was later confirmed to be blood, all over the office walls. Or why in the basement of the building the bodies of the two employees had been found in various forms of desecration. One was found tied upside down dangling from a support beam with his head removed, his blood collected in a bucket underneath and over sixty seven stab wounds throughout his torso. His head was found in a shoe box sitting on the passenger seat of Justin’s truck. The second victim had been fastened to the foundation wall with large cemetery screw, displayed like Jesus on the cross. There were no stab wounds, however his eyes had been removed and his face had been bludgeoned by a hammer that was found next to his body. The eyes of the second victim were never found. Justin was a mean drunk and was known to beat on his wife and kid but the acts in which he had done the day of Alvin’s birthday seemed too hard to believe. Alvin left the next week to join in the fight against Germany never looking back when he got on that bus. He had no other family that he was aware of so all he had now was himself. It was time to move on and escape the hell he had just witnessed to move to the next hell that awaited him in the trenches.

Part II

Sergeant Alvin Boone was in his third year with the army fighting against the “Nazi bastards”. Still trying to forget the atrocities of his father, he could never get that term for the enemy out of his head. To make matters worse, when he thought of that term it was always in his father’s voice. He had done his best to put as much focus on training and fighting as he could. Sometimes it would work and he would go weeks without thinking about that night but occasionally something would trigger a memory. Looking back on his decision, fighting in a war where you kill and leave bloody bodies behind isn’t the ideal way to drown out the image of your dead mother. But he was already invested and had been climbing the ranks at a fairly steady pace. He got along with his squad mates and even befriended a few. Things were not always great but they could always be worse so he couldn’t complain too much. Fighting Nazis was something he seemed to be good at from what he could tell as well as what others had told him. He didn’t really keep a track record of his kills but sometimes he would take a little souvenir from a high ranking officer if it caught his fancy. Now that didn’t mean he had a trunk full of daggers or iron crosses or anything like that. Just maybe three or four crosses but sometimes it would be such a simple thing as cutting a button of an SS officers jacket.

Most missions were similar in nature. Organize your team, blend in then ambush with aggression. A few stints in the trenches had caused Alvin to really learn to focus on the here and now. Best way to stay alive. The trenches were probably the most nerve racking scenario he had dealt with so far in the war. He had a few close calls and witnessed comrades die in horrible ways. One of the more gruesome was watching Private Melner’s skull explode, from a gunshot. His brains had showered Alvin’s face, but there had been no time to morn his friend. Occurrences like these made him a more alert soldier though. Asides from the horrors and anxiety of the battle field, he would hear strange stories of the enemy. One of the more crazier rumors involved Hitler and his men searching for relics offiliated with the occult. Alvin was never sure whether to believe that or not, however some guys did believe it and even had admitted to being a little frightened that they had some sort of magic and that’s why they rose to power so quickly. The stories of the strange German armada left some speculation. Not that he believed in magic but that the Nazis or their leaders did and wanted to use that mumbo jumbo to try and help win the war. “Good luck with that”, was all he could think when pondering on that specific subject.

Alvin had only recently been promoted to Sergeant and sent to a new company with a new commander. Luckily he was accompanied by one of his old squad mates whom he had become friends with. His name was Wallas but everyone called him Walley, they had their first meeting on the very bus that brought them to be trained to kill. The two men counted themselves lucky to have a friend who would always have their back when jumping into a fire fight. Alvin’s new commander believed that the Nazis were in the market for what he called “black magic and voodoo shit” to try and increase their success in the war. And it was this squad’s mission to stop them from doing that as well as kill any of those bastards that got within firing range. Apparently leaders in the American government also had some belief in the whole occult and magic business as well. It was kind of a shock for Alvin when he learned this fact because he believed that Hitler was just a paranoid nut job looking for fantasies and “mystical” items to boost his ego and power. He hoped that was not the same case for the leaders he was fighting for. But he supposed that there were plenty of people who could be susceptible to more out of the box type of thinking and with the way the war had been going, any form of an advantage or even boost to soldiers morale would be worth the investment.

The objective for his first mission in this squad was to ambush a group of Nazis that were, according to one of the undercover operatives; opening up the ruins of some devil worshippers or pagan shamans, Alvin didn’t pay much attention to the lore of the site but focused on how many to kill and when to shoot. The attack would happen during dusk right before it became too dark to really see anything. For whatever reason this was an important time for the targets to go and begin their trek into this underground lair of sorts. Neutralize the threat and prevent anyone else from obtaining any type of artifact found within the ruins, that was the objective.

The Americans had set up a line surrounding the area that was composed of mainly dirt mounds scattered in seemingly random places. It was cut off with a make shift fence made up of wooden poles and rope attaching the poles. It resembled any other normal dig sight one would see set up for archeologists. A few spots had unearthed the tops of eldritch statues. Malformed heads with undulating horns. Ominous faces with horrific detail. A real macabre and unsettling decore. There was only one area that had been completely cleared. An oblong structure with large triangular opening made up of solid black stone. Alvin knelt in his stationed spot next to Walley, both of them whispering back and forth about the nonsense surrounding the mission. “This is just a load of bullshit. What the hell are we actually doing here man?” Huffed Walley. Alvin replied in a more hushed tone than his friend, worried that their conversation could be too loud. “I’m not really sure but its part of the job so no point in complaining. Were already here.” The conversation was halted by the sound of the commander quietly but with enough stern force to catch the whole squads attention. “Saddle up men and focus. Enemy approaching the dig site, get ready.” This caused everyone to be alert and all the whispering stopped, Alvin and Walley took aim at the approaching figures.

The muffled sound of the unfamiliar language was slowly becoming more and more clear as the team of German soldiers approached the site. Some were equipped with rifles while others had shovels and pick-axes. Alvin even saw one walking up with only a book in his hand which seemed very odd and even idiotic considering there was a war going on. With every step, the blurred forms became slightly focused, with their voices becoming more profound. In total there were sixteen soldiers approaching the dig site which was only four more than what Alvin’s squad consisted of. But of the enemy group, ten had rifles, three had shovels, two had pick-axes and the final soldier had the book. So in this scenario the opposing ammunition was outnumbered which boosted morale amongst the American squad hiding beyond. The Nazis made their final steps to the opening of the ruins and paused when they heard a soft click followed by the thump of a grenade towards their feet. One shouted something with panic in his voice as he and four other men jumped to avoid the impending blast. Within moments the grenade exploded with an echoing shock followed by a bright flash. Smoke and dirt flew alongside the limbs of one of the men who had been wielding a shovel. The army commander screamed, “Take these bastards out!” Every soldier followed the order by jumping up and running forward with guns blazing.

Alvin didn’t hesitate when rushing to the closest figure and unloading his gun into the man’s chest and throat. Blood spewed onto his face like a set of crimson freckles then he moved on to the next soldier with haste. The smell of gun powder and copper filled the air accompanied by both cries of pain and shouts of anger as man killed man without remorse. Bodies from both sides were falling to the red soaked earth. Alvin could barely distinguish who was friend or foe from the smudged atmosphere that had disrupted his senses. Without warning or even the slightest inclination to his awareness, he was tackled to the ground and pierced through his shoulder by a dagger held in the hand of a one armed Nazi. It was obvious that this was the outcome of the grenade exploding moments early. He screamed in Alvin’s face as he removed the dagger and began to stab furiously at any place the blade could pierce.

Alvin screamed in agony with every puncture to his body while trying to grasp the wildly flailing arm of his enemy. Finally the tables turned after the fifth stab made its mark. He knocked the crazed one armed man to the ground and placed his knees over his adversaries shoulders. The dagger had switched hands and it was now Alvin’s turn to scream. Spit flew from his mouth landing in the bloodshot eyes of the Nazi before the dagger was brought down deep into the right cheek of the enemy. Alvin continuously forced the blade up and down, screaming obscenities with each piercing jab that hit various parts of the body. Fnishing at the face until all that was left resembled some raw and bloodied ground meat. Something was breaking in Alvin with every thrust of the weapon. The image of his father was all that could be seen before him. Nothing else mattered around him, not the gun shots or the falling of his comrades. The sounds of war began to slowly turn to dampening silence until all that could be heard was the muffled thud of the daggers hilt crushing into the skull of a now limp corpse.

Exhausted from the frenzy of anger that led to a gruesome victory, Alvin rolled over and collapsed flat on the ground breathing heavy and his arm aching. His heart was pounding furiously against his chest but that seemed to be the only sound he could hear even though his eyes could see glimpses of fire spouting from gun barrels as well as blood flying from soldiers whom were being shot. With every thump of his heart, Alvin’s ears would pulsate and caused specks of darkness to cover his peripheral vision. It eventually reached a point that only a tiny spot of visibility could be viewed through his eyes while the sound of his heart left him deaf. Encased in almost pure darkness visually and with no sound reverberating within his ears, Alvin felt as if he was drowning in a body of liquid ebony. He felt weightless and stagnant with the inability to move from the spot where he had committed such a horrendous act of savagery. He had no idea how long he remained in that spot before the jolt of sound regained inside his ear drums. It was a scratchy yet deep beckoning voice that felt so distant but also latched onto his sense of sound like a tick biting into the flesh of its host, draining every possible drop of blood before its body explodes.

It took some time and concentration before Alvin could comprehend the words coming from the disembodied voice. But finally he could understand what was being whispered to him from beyond. “Child of the murderer, come forth.” Hissed the cracked voice inside Alvin’s ear. He didn’t know what to do at that time and with every passing moment the words were repeated, each repetition sent a searing sensation to the inside of his ear canal. After the whisper became a stern demand, he could feel liquid begin to drip out of his ears and roll down the sides of his neck.

The deep black never left Alvin’s eyes even when his body involuntarily rose from the ground to make its way to the sound of its master calling it forward.

All was a blur to him and yet he was aware that he was making the descent to the depths of the ancient ruins that had been the cause of all the death and dismay. No images were forming in his eyes for at that point he was walking completely blind through the darkness. His body was the only part that was aware of where to go within the ancient stones. The farther he walked, the warmer his body felt in every part that made up his form. One hand brushed up against spiked stone walls that felt sharp enough to pierce flesh if pressed too hard, while the other grasped the stab wounds that had finally stopped bleeding. The floor he walked on had to be made of solid blocks because it left shooting pain in the soles of his tired feet. The boots he wore had aged during his tour and gave little to no comfort or protection. Somehow, Alvin had lost consciousness while walking blindly through the ruins but his body never stopped moving while he slept. He was awakened by a screech that shook and rattled the brain matter within his skull. Blinking uncontrollably to remove the haze from his eyes, Alvin was finally able to see his surroundings. It took a bit of effort before the rapid eye movement fixed his sight. His nostrils were assaulted by the harsh smell of something rotten. Like the gut wrenching blast of decay when one drives past the carcass of roadkill that has been baking in the sun for weeks. However this wasn’t the same rotting smell he had encountered before, this was still a sickly scent but there was an odd hint of sweetness to it. Finally his sight had fully returned to him but he wished that it never would have as he gazed upon the grizzly sight which caused so much vomit to explode from his mouth. Hot burning tears ran down his face.

The display before him was nothing he had ever witnessed during his time in the army. Bound at the wrists and feet to resemble the shape of the letter ‘x’ suspended a human body that had been stripped of all its flesh. Where the restraints held the limbs were the only specks of skin left to be seen which meant this person had been tied and lifted before being skinned. There was no way to identify the gender of the corpse for the bottom region had been gutted out and maggots filled the entire lower half of the body. Deep lesions had destroyed the upper torso of the body and it was unclear to Alvin if they were random strikes or meant to be some form of symbols. His disgust of the sight seemed to disappear along with the nausea as he continued to study the tortured body he had discovered. It was as if he had been forcefully transfixed by some outside force that took over his own body. The eye sockets were both filled with long wooden stakes that poked through the back of its skull accompanied by the same happening to the mouth. The intestines had been ripped from an opening of the abdomen and draped loosely over each shoulder and dangled down towards the ground, the end of it caressing the muscle tissue of the corpses thighs. It was beyond the sickest form of torture Alvin could have imagined and he prayed that this person had been killed before all of this happened.

His train of thought was broken by a dry, ancient voice, “No. They lived and suffered through it all.” He jumped from the surprise ambush to his ears. The gaze towards the body had been broken. Alvin scrambled to identify where the voice had come from. Torches of fire surrounded the area but none shone any light to the owner of that startling sound that shifted his attention.

The area only revealed the torches, the body and a single opening that led to darkness. After a while of standing in silence Alvin made up his mind to get the hell out of this place. He made the first steps towards the opening before catching one more glance at the poor soul he discovered in the hellish tomb. Something around the neck of the corpse gleamed in the fire light that caught his eye. He wanted to keep moving and leave the torture chamber but his body refused to listen. The more he begged his body to leave, the more it moved closer to the shiny object. A bellowing howl echoed from behind Alvin, inhuman and absolutely terrifying. But his body did not react, only his mind. His feet continued their stride forward. When he was face to face with the rotting corpse, the familiar scratch in his ears returned, “Take it. Child of the murderer, it is yours to keep.” The second the final word left his ears, Alvin’s hand rose to grasp the silver object dangling from the blood encrusted string wrapped around the poor souls throat. The metal burned into the skin of his palm before eventually turning cold as ice. No scream escaped Alvin’s throat even though the pain felt beyond unbearable. He looked down at his shaking hand until it finally opened revealing a crudely carved attempt at a circle. Rough edges with uneven sides that resembled more of a crooked oval than a circle. At the center of this object was engraved a small ‘x’ which bothered him considering it was the same shape as the body that wore this item. On the far right side of the ‘x’ was an additional engraving that looked to be an upside down ‘v’ that was half the size of the main letter.

Without thinking, Alvin placed the object into his pocket then began to walk towards the opening to leave the body in it’s solitude. Questions of who lit the torches, who had been mutilated and how long the body had been there plagued Alvin’s mind as he exited the chamber. As the first foot made its way towards a corridor filled with darkness, Alvin’s vision blackened and his ears muffled like before. A raspy chuckled invaded the realms of his skull. Then he lost consciousness.

“Alvin! Alvin!” The piercing scream sent the Sergeant’s eye lids to jump apart. All color burst forth in his vision with an exhausted rush that caused his head to spin. His hands felt wet and his breathing was heavy as if he had just ran a marathon. Looking down he saw blood covering both hands, leading all the way up to his forearms. In one hand he was gripping the broken edge of a bayonet. He was beyond confused as to where he was or what the hell was happening. He looked up and met the gaze of his squad mate and friend Walley, who’s eyes were wide with confusion and a slight touch of fear. “W-w-what’s going on? W-what’s happened?” Alvin stuttered trying to make sense of the whole situation. His friend just stood there for a long time before finally blinking and giving a dreadful answer to his questions.

“You lost it man. I don’t know where you went. Dead or alive. I looked for you and all of the sudden I saw you run out of that damn stone cave. You were screaming at the top of your lungs.” Walley took a deep breath and sighed heavily before finishing, ” You jumped the first person you saw and ripped the gun from their hand then shot them point blank in the face. I didn’t even realize that it was the commander you killed. Before I could even react, you were gunning down everyone. When you ran out of bullets you threw the gun and grab another. I watched you bash a man’s skull in with the butt of a rifle. Someone jumped in front of me to shoot but you knocked them down and crushed their skull in with a damn stone. After that you just sat there staring at me and mumbling. I didn’t know what to do. I almost shot you before screaming at you.”

Walley rubbed his face following that last sentence, seeming like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Alvin just remained sitting on top of the dead body while he processed what had just been revealed to him.

No words were exchanged between the two men for a long while. Finally gaining back his true self, Alvin looked up at Walley and asked, “What happens now?” Walley gave his comrade a look of sorrow before answering his question with another question. “Why did you kill everyone? What the hell happened to you?” Alvin continued to switch his gaze between Walley and the corpse underneath him before muttering in a hushed tone, “I-I-I don’t remember any of that. I really don’t.” Walley didn’t respond right away. He just kept looking at his friend in wonderment and trying his best to believe whether or not Alvin was telling the truth. In the end he knew that what he witnessed moments ago did not resemble anything of the man who sat in front of him and for whatever reason, he did believe his friend.

Walley reached out his hand to Alvin in an effort to help the broken and blood covered man up from the corpse he had created. Standing to his feet, Alvin repeated his original question, “So what happens now Walley?” With a look around at the massacre before them, Walley gave a sigh and spoke with reassurance, “We are gonna radio for pick up and report this as a failed ambush. We never found any bullshit relics, the Germans got the jump on us and you and I barely got out of this hell hole alive. We don’t change the story, Understood?” With a very excessive and furious nod Alvin replied. “Agreed. I don’t know how I can ever get you back for this. Thank you.” Walley responded with a grunt as they began the long hike back to the rally point. Walley Spencer felt that he did the right thing by not killing his friend. Something inside him knew that Alvin needed to stay alive even though he had just slaughtered all of those people. When Walley ever got a gut feeling about something, he never questioned it and always followed through with it. Alvin would forever remain in his debt from there on out even though after this run the two men would never see each other ever again.

Part III

The war had ended three years ago and with that came the end of the Nazi reign. By that time Sergeant Boone was just simply Alvin now. He saw his term through the end of the war with plenty of more successful wins under his belt. Periodically collecting more tokens for his kills but none he held closer than the mysterious trinket he had found in his pocket after coming back from the onslaught he had created during the blackout. That little crude object remained in his pocket for every mission and it provided a continuous repeat of successful battles. Earning him plenty of bragging rights and a incredible taste for Nazi blood. All missions ended with the death of the enemy while Alvin remained untouched. He gave all the credit to his lucky charm, regardless of the horrible occurrence that came with it. He still couldn’t make sense of what happened that night and nothing beyond what Walley told him ever resurfaced into Alvin’s mind. It remained a mystery to him and he was unable to get any more insight from Walley, if there was any because the day after they were picked up both men were separated. Alvin never saw or heard from his friend after that and the last thing he had been told was Walley ended his time with the military to pursue a career helping children.

Alvin could never get the full details but was happy to hear that his friend was doing something fulfilling. He abandoned all ties to his past back in Johnston city and opted to living in Harrisburg where he was able to buy his first house and even get a job as a coal miner after the rise of mining during the war. Things just continued to work out for Alvin as his life kept moving forward and even though he no longer fought in the war he still kept that little trinket of his close at hand. It didn’t matter if he was going to work in the darkness of the mines or just leaving the house to go to the store, that little oblong coin was always in his pocket. It never failed to bring him good fortune, things just always seemed to work out for him and he never dared to go anywhere without it. There were plenty of accidents in the mines that brought many miners to their deaths. But no calamity ever happened during his shift.

The mines were a good place to work in the sense that it kept Alvun’s mind busy and didn’t leave him thinking of his time in war, the incident with the blackout he had or that horrendous flashback of his parents. He was done with battle and although he enjoyed the fight while in service, in the normal world he no longer had that bloodlust. The job gave him a sense of purpose and kept him in shape. The people he worked with were decent guys but occasionally he would run into someone with a bad attitude. One such person was a large man named Todd. Just some run of the mill corn fed asshole with a chip on his shoulder. Any time Alvin came in contact with Todd, there was always some rude comment followed by a slight physical push.

Whenever this happened, Alvin would do his best to ignore it and move on but over time it continued to get worse. It would anger him, his blood would start to boil and oddly enough, his trinket would heat up in his pocket. He never knew why that happened so he just figured it was his anger fueling and causing his skin to make him think that’s what he felt. He also noticed a slight chirping in his ears, like a distorted cricket rubbing it’s legs together deep in his audio canal. The sensations continued to get worse with each passing day that his nemesis would piss him off. One day however, things changed during an altercation that braced Alvin to fight Todd.

The day went as usual with Alvin going down the elevator to his area and like clockwork he would feel a hard shoulder hitting his back. “Get the hell out of my way.” Grunted the nasty bastard. Any other time Alvin would shrug it off or ignore Todd, but something set him off. So he retaliated with a snarl,” Why don’t you kiss my ass, prick.” Todd paused for a moment not believing what had just been said. He leaned into Alvin’s ear and spoke in a hushed tone, “When this shift is over I’m gonna find you and beat the living shit out of you.” He shoved Alvin and made his way down the dimly lit shaft. Alvin was fuming with rage, hands shaking and he violently set to work. Heat resonated in his pocket and once again, that odd sound returned. It grew louder as the day went on, driving Alvin nuts. By the end of the day he was completely exhausted but still filled with anger and his ears were ringing from that phantom tone. He walked to his truck and just sat for a while watching everyone else get into their vehicles to leave the jobsite. The entire time, he invisioned beating Todd’s face in. He refused to put up with the man anymore and this day would be one of reckoning. Eventually, Todd finally emerged and got into his vehicle. Alvin slowly pulled out from the parking lot and began to follow him.

Passing all the houses and shops along different roads, twists and turns leading through cornfields, Alvin found it funny. “This guy really is a corn fed asshole.” The thought made him laugh. But the humor quickly diminished and was replaced with the original emotions of anger and hate. The more he thought of the man, the angrier he got which brought visions of him pummeling Todd’s face until all he saw was blood. His pocket began to heat up and the images in Alvin’s head morphed into the man hanging from a tree with his eyes completely gouged out. He shook his head to clear the images. Alvin didn’t want to kill the guy, just put him in his place and show him there are consequences to being an asshole. Yes he wanted to beat the brakes off of the guy until his face was bruised and bloody but there was no thought to take his life. But again another image popped into Alvin’s head and this time it was of Todd lying in a tub filled with blood and the skin of his face completely peeled off. And once again that burning sensation hit his leg when this vision filled his mind. Then the chirping in his ears morphed into static. It sounded like a voice playing through a faulty radio, words inaudible but the voice resonated.

Alvin’s body began to shake as he remembered the sight of finding his mother in a tub filled with her own blood, the trauma was attempting to take over. His train of thought was broken when the truck in front of him pulled up to a trailer out in the far reaches of the cornfield and down a gravel road. The truck parked in front of the metalic home and Todd stepped out. Alvin pulled up behind the parked truck and mimicked the act of stepping out of his own truck. When he slammed his door shut it caught Todd’s attention, who turned quickly then smiled wide before shouting, “Oh you little prick. Decided to come and find me instead?” Alvin didn’t say a single word as he approached with both fists clinched and ready to begin. The two men began to walk towards each other, Todd walking with confidence as he started to ball up his fists. Before he could lift an arm, Alvin had landed the first blow across the Todd’s jaw. In an instant he fell flat to the ground with a hard thud.

Alvin lost it and began to kick him in the ribs and even landing a few kicks to his head. A muffled laugh bounced inside of his skull, not created from his own voice. He knelt down to continuously punch every inch of the man’s face until blood began to spew from his mouth and nose. Alvin took a slight pause to wipe some of the blood from his own face.

Before coming down with another punch, Todd gurgled. “Please stop. You win! I’m sorry!” Alvin just looked at him for a moment and that burning returned to his pocket once more. A raspy, baritone voice skittered across his ear drums. “More! Make him suffer!”

Alvin snatched Todd up and walked him to the door of the trailer. “Open the door.” He sneered with a forceful tone.

Not knowing what to do, the man did as he was told. The moment the door was unlocked Alvin kicked him in the back, knocking his face onto the floor. He rolled Todd over and started to beat his face so hard that blood started to leak out of his ears. Alvin stood up and walked to the kitchen area and grabbed the biggest knife that caught his eye. Again a voice arose within. “Good. Use it to the fullest extent.” He didn’t think twice when he jammed that blade deep into Todd’s chest nor did he pause to consider the forty five additional stab wounds he inflicted on the body of his enemy. The more he dug that blade in the more alive he felt and there was no stopping him. The fun ended when the handle snapped off from digging the blade into the center of the right eye socket. “Leave him, like the trash he is.” Alvin walked away from the bloody mess with a smirk.

In the end the police would document the horrific murder of Todd Skirman, six weeks after Alvin had left the scene. No suspects were apprehended, men at work were questioned but this man was a menace to everyone which left too many enemies that could be suspects. Alvin however was never questioned and continued his work day to day. Once again his good luck charm kept him safe. And a disembodied friend accompanied him.

After that day it seemed that whenever there was an issue with someone that caused any inconvenience for Alvin, the coin would heat up in his pocket which caused his anger to soar and that person would end up dead. That eerie voice would command him to do atrocious things, the tone was always encouraging and clear. A switch had been activated after killing Todd. When rage filled him, sadistic images would form in his mind. These were soon followed by shaking in his hands and once that good luck charm of his burned, there was no turning back. The voice guided him, making the mental images a reality when he finished his depraved work. But no matter the case, he was never found to be associated with the deceased and he always knew it was his luck. He didn’t go about this often and the choice of victim was not random. It was just triggered when someone pushed his buttons and would want to start something with Alvin. This was his dirty little secret though, he was still making a body count even after the war had gone and passed. His good luck charm kept him safe and the voice instructed him on what it was he should do with the people that really set him off. This continued to be how his life would go until eventually it calmed down for a while when he met a girl.

Mary was the receptionist that handled the checks in the main office for the coal mining company Alvin worked for. They had chatted periodically whenever he would go pick up his weekly check. Within six months the small conversations had turned into dating which led to the two getting married. It was all that Alvin could hope for in his life. He already had the job and a house but now he had the perfect wife to bring more joy into his life and that was all he needed. With the turn of events he got less angry and killed less while he was with Mary. She was never aware of her husband’s sporadic indulgences of murder.

He would still get his urges and he would still get lucky to not ever get caught. It was just a form of releasing those primal urges every now and then. It didnt help that the scratchy voice applauded him which gave him a sort of manical ego.

By November of 1949, Alvin and Mary had brought into their lives a son, little Martin Howard Boone. The couple couldn’t be any happier than what they were at that very moment now that their family was complete. Alvin was a very proud dad to say the least and he enjoyed every moment he had with his son. But good things never last and before long the invisible passenger in his head beckoned with increased intensity from the amplified powers of Alvin’s favorite little trinket. And the demand for blood had grown louder and more encouraging. What once had been a periodic occurrence changed to a weekly habit of taking a life. The urge to kill was uncontrollable by this point. When little Martin was a few weeks shy of six months old, his father had racked up a total of forty five victims. Each one varied in race, age and sex with all different methods of murder. Ranging from strangulation by thin strands of wire that almost severed the heads of victims to dismemberment and even skinning victims alive before finally snuffing them from existence.

Alvin didn’t care who the person was or how he ended their existence as long as he got his appropriate dose of satisfaction watching the life leave their eyes. And the uplifting voice brought so much applaud that he couldnt help but grin after the murder was finished. It soon became a sloppy turn of events when he would come home with scrapes and bruises accompanied by blood stains on his clothes. Little gifts left from the poor souls who tried to fight back. Any time Mary would question him about the marks or the blood it would cause Alvin to become irritated and he would shut the conversation down with a quick blame on an incident at work and a back hand to her cheek. Alvin would come home every day in that state and always returned home hours past his normal schedule, this added to the concern of his wife.

Alvin’s lust for violence finally made its way into his home and he had become exactly like his father with the beatings he gave to his poor wife and the consumption of a plethora of liquos. But the beatings he inflicted were much more savage than what Alvin’s witnessed as a child. The slightest glance in a disapproving way would set him off. On two different occasions, Mary almost lost her life at the hands of her husband. Once was when he beat her with a belt then afterwards wrapped it around her throat until she lost consciousness. The other time when she was in the kitchen doing the dishes. With no word or warning, Alvin hit her with all of his strength in the back of her head then placed it under water almost drowning her. All the while, the voice echoed in his head would laugh and hiss. “Yessss. More. More! Make her suffer! But dont kill her yet.” The sound was like a snake slithering through his mind, influencing the very essence of evil.

Slight issues with people was no longer the spark that ignited his rage, he now hunted purely for the sight of blood and to appease what had become his mental master. “Give me more sights of fluid! I need to see blood spill.” The voice would tickle his ears and caused his spine to quiver. It became intoxicating, leaving the man not himself. Alvin had become a monster that stalked the streets of Harrisburg in search of his next victim but he had also become a monster that craved the whimpering fear that echoed from the walls of his home.

Things became worse on the night of May 1st 1950 when he took it upon himself to repeat his own history. He showed up to work as usual but his pocket began to heat up and the continuous sensation of claws scratching at his brain, no words spoken by the voice but sensations that reverberated the rage inside of him. The urge to kill resonated through every fiber in his body. Every face that met his gaze was morphed into an ensemble of gore that caused a crazed grin to painfully stretch across his face. That day, the voice communicated in sensations rather than words. He lost control of his body, as if possessed and grabbed the first person next to him. He sank his teeth deep into their neck. He felt the vibration from the scream and bit down harder until he could lock his teeth around the man’s Adam’s apple. With a quick crunch and jerk, the man fell to the ground as Alvin chewed on the mouthful of bloody sinew, gazing at the dying man before swallowing. Finally there was communication in the form of words within his head. “Bravo! Now, lets slaughter the whole lot. Make me proud, boy!” The horrific smile on Alvin’s face got bigger with every corpse he created until not a single person was left breathing in that tunnel.

Flashes of the past filled his mind as Alvin drove home. All the slaughter, screams and blood from that mission during the night he blacked out resurfaced. Alvin truly enjoyed the sights that had been bestowed upon him and knew finally where his good luck charm came from. That desecrated, rotting corpse had gifted him the coin. A powerful presence beyond comprehension dwelled inside of that metal object. Infecting him with such sweet and delectable malice and sadism. Alvin’s mind and personality had been corrupted, decaying and remolded into a beast. Becoming the perfect acolyte for whatever demon beckoned him.

Upon getting out of his vehicle, Alvin paused for a long while remembering all the faces he witnessed before death met their gaze. His smile would not falter as he slowly crept to the front door of his home to give his wife the gift he had shared with so many people. He was not greeted by her, which was no surprise considering what happened any time Mary looked at him. He walked into the living room to see his wife reading a book and little Martin asleep in the extra crib. No words were exchanged when Alvin was ordered to snatch his wife up. “She needs a good lashing. Let’s see how much torture she can handle.” The voice sizzled violently as Alvin gripped Mary’s face with one hand, smooshing her cheeks together between his fingers and thumb. With his other hand, he exteneded two fingers and drove them deep into her eyes. He could feel the jelly filled orbs pop and ooze on his finger tips, the soft tissue jamming under his nails.

She screamed and Alvin removed his fingers from her eye sockets. She wailed and the sound rang in his ears, the voice cakcling even louder though, drowning out the woman’s pleas for mercy. Alvin placed his hands on her shoulders. He threw his knee into her stomach and the force dropped her to the floor. She squirmed in agony as Alvin laughed maniacally, walking towards the kitchen. Inside the man’s brain, a secondary howl of laughter bounced within the walls of his cranium. “Good man! But there is more to do.”

He returned shortly, watching his wife crawl on the floor and holding one hand to her face, cradling the now vacant holes where her eyes used to be. He knelt down and flipped Mary on her back. He placed a knee on her chest and landed a few punches before grabbing a handful of hair. With one hand he held her head still while the other gripped a knife, shoving it into her mouth. She attempted to avoid the blade but Alvin’s grip pulled the hair so tightly that it was impossible to escape.

He slowly began to saw at the corner of Mary’s mouth, blood pouring from the separating flesh and more screaming pierced the air. He removed the blade and hit her in the face again to silence the screaming. The knife returned to her mouth and the process was repeated, the sick man finished his work by creating a horrid Glasgow Smile. Once he had finished that, he dropped the knife and with both hands, pulled at the disheveled locks of hair then began to slam Abigail’s skull against the hardwood floor. All the while, his mental accomplice laughed and cheered him on.

“Enough. Finish the harlot!” Snickered the voice. Alvin obediently snapped her neck for good before turning to a crying Martin, who had awoken during the attack. Alvin stared at the frantic baby with his wife’s blood dripping from his chin before wrapping his hands around the child’s neck. As his hands tightened, a shock hit every nerve in his body that left him paralyzed. The scratching in his brain ached and the voice scolded him. “No! The child remains alive.” Just like a dog being given a command, he released his hands. More words were spoken, Alvin listened intently and followed the directions he was given to the letter.

The following morning, Alvin drove to the Willow Tree orphanage outside of Harrisburg. Taking Martin, who was wrapped in a blanket and housed in a wicker basket, he set the basket down. Alvin placed the paper that he was commanded to write, stained with the blood of his wife on top of his son’s blanket. He raised his hand to knock on the door when his pocket became ice cold from the coin. The voice echoed in his head, “It no longer belongs to you. Leave it! You know what to do next.” With no control over his body, Alvin mentally cried when removing his prized possession from his pocket and bending down to place it on top of the blood stained note. Standing up straight, he banged on the door then left before anyone could answer. He got into his vehicle and drove off in a hurry without even looking back.

Baby Martin woke up and began to cry uncontrollably from confusion and fear. A few moments later the door of the orphanage was opened by one of its large and bearded caretakers. The burly man looked down at the wailing child with sadness in his heart wondering why anyone would leave such a helpless babe alone. Quickly he grabbed the baby from the basket to calm him and noticed blood on the child’s clothing. The man found no injuries on the child. He then looked down to see the note as well as the oblong trinket. He grabbed both, the metal touched his skin and it burned with a searing chill. The blood on the note brought a confused look to the mans face as he read out loud, “Martin Howard Boone. Mother, Marry. Father, Alvin.” No other words were on the paper, only names of three individuals. The man stood in awe as he repeated one of the names in his head and realizing he knew it. He looked down at the now sleeping baby then looked beyond the streets and muttered, “Sergeant Boone? Alvin?” A gutteral plague of laughter jolted inside of the big mans head. He looked around but saw no one. He shook of the minor fright and brought the child inside.

The following morning, a news report broke out throughout the state of Illinois. A total of eleven dead bodies were discovered in the town of Harrisburg, Illinois. Nine miners were found, causes of death ranged from hand tools impaled in various areas of the body, crushed skulls and two had their throats ripped open by what appeared to be some kind of animal. A woman was found laying in her living room, her skull caved in and her neck had been broken. Either of which could have been the cause of death. Neighbors had reported screams and police assesed the scene. The final body was found off the side of County Highway 37 in a brutal collision to a guard rail. The man’s face had been crushed by the steering wheel indicating that the vehicle had been moving at top speed before colliding into the railing. Registration of the car was traced back to the owner of the house where the woman was discovered. Their young child had not been found in the car or at the crime scene.