Creepypasta Files Wikia
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“You win, John. I don’t like this life. I don’t want it. I never really amounted to much anyways, didn’t I?”
~ Nona's last words before taking his own life.

 

Nona Taylor Rey, or, as he is more commonly referenced as, Nona Rey, is the main protagonist of the creepypasta with the same name, "Nona Rey". He is a young male spirit who was unfortunately driven to suicide by a demon who took residence inside his head. Once he had passed, his mind was clear of voices and false memories, and Nona began to instead use his experiences to help those about to suffer the same fate, often giving children and adolescents who were susceptible to a possession protection. 

Origin Story

Prologue

Sullenly, the shaded figure of a young man stood slouched against a tree; his eyes a kind of lifeless opaque that signaled deep, thoughtful contemplation. Something gnawed at him. Something ate away at his brain. Nona looked up from his accidental dive into the subconscious and shook his head, eyeing his surroundings and touching his cheeks, checking if they were still there and entirely real. He then sat down and closed his eyes, softening his features, and falling into a visible state of collective calm.

Part 1

Nona knew he wasn’t an average child. He knew he felt and responded to situations differently than most people his age but, in turn, was self aware of this current disadvantage, and did his best to hide what would later be diagnosed by his therapist as a “self-imposed emotional incapacitation”. His doctor was nice, of course, and Nona liked her, but he could never bring himself to fully open up to her---or anyone, concerning this matter. His explanation for his actions would inevitably issue him an invite to the mad house and, on a more personal note, when Nona’s therapist finally found the correct set of jargon to craft his diagnosis, she seemed more jittery than usual. More excited. Though it was probably nothing, Nona still felt cheated. Yes, he knew he was here for treatment, but to see it with his own eyes hurt. To her, he was just another patient. To her, he was just a block of time out of her day. And when she finally found a way to erase that block, she took it happily.

There were three things therapy taught Nona: his childhood memories could reveal a lot about why he acts the way he does, his mother is mostly at fault, and it’s very easy to lie without being detected. Apparently, his “issues” began emerging at four, evolved at seven, reached a high point at thirteen, disappeared until he was sixteen, and then reached its climax throughout the following months.

Nona remembered the first time his doctor told him to go back. He remembered doing a certain exercise where he had to close his eyes and remember his first false memory.

Four-year-olds aren’t usually supposed to know much about vulgar deaths concerning drug-induced car accidents, but Nona did. He and his mother had been sitting on the couch and, without any warning, Nona screamed and clutched onto his mother, face pale and sweaty, tears beginning to well up in his eyes. Concerned, as any decent mother would be, she picked up her young child and began gently shushing him, urging him to converse with her about whatever had caused such a sudden and unprecedented outburst. Before this, her son was a tame boy. He didn’t talk much and often kept to himself, playing with the chickens in the chicken coup or doodling.

After a few long, silent minutes, her son finally agreed to talk to her again. Nona told her about his alleged “accident” which, somehow, killed him. This took place four years ago directly on his birthday. Following the date, Nona then began describing his death in horrific detail, vocabulary much too advanced for a little boy going into kindergarten; he claimed a steering wheel impaled him after he drove through a red light and got hit head on by another car while intoxicated. He claimed it was the worst pain he had ever felt. He claimed he felt his heart slow to a stop.

Horrified, Nona’s mother pulled him out of school and banned all internet access, including TV, believing these “technological demons” and “blasphemous children” had ruined her son’s young mental state. Where else would he find the tools to articulate these insane, clearly fake memories? Where? Shortly after, they began purity training. Every time Nona saw something to do with sex, drugs, or alcohol, he would receive a slap on the wrist and be forced to drink water mixed with penicillin, which he was allergic to. Now, when in contact with any of his mother’s alleged vices, Nona would involuntarily feel physically sick due to association.

That was the last false memory he openly told his mother about for a few years.

Part 2

Nona could remember how his therapist asked him to elaborate on the last sentence after he told her that story. She questioned what he meant by, “...a few years,” were there more false memories during that time that he didn’t tell his mother? Or did they just simply not come back for a few years? Nona agreed to the first one, but said he didn’t care to elaborate on the gritty details of the others, as no one was informed about them anyways and they didn’t carry any major effect. By the final one, he barely even realized they were there anymore. Those random flashbacks were just part of his daily routine, now. 

But, something strange did happen when he was seven. Something so strange it stuck with him for a good couple of years. Taunting. Mocking. Jeering at him. Nona said it was hard to feel comfortable alone with his own consciousness during that time as, well, it wasn’t entirely him.

And that’s when the therapist was introduced to Johnathan, nickname John. Now, there weren’t many patients who could successfully hold Mrs. Levine’s attention for an entire session, but Nona had gone above and beyond. A smile slowly danced upon her face as she asked her favorite visit for a brief---no, painfully in depth---description of this being John.

When he was seven, his strange, inexpiable memories suddenly received a narrator. Perched on his bed was John, who was an average boy, and couldn’t have been much older than a high school senior. Not having much contact with the outside world, Nona decided not to tell his mother about the sudden intruder and instead take the time to get to know him, sitting beside him on the bed. From their conversation, he learned that John was not really there, but inside Nona’s head. John claimed Nona stole his rightful body and suffocated his chance at second life---he said Nona was born right as John was killed in the car crash, and that caused his soul to be blocked from freedom. Inherently, Nona felt guilty. He always knew there was something off about his birth from the start, but he didn’t know it was something like this.

Interlude

As the story goes, his mother and father were expecting a girl. Nona’s mother had an easy pregnancy but, at eight and a half months, began suffering a few day long bout of unbearably severe abdominal pain. She and her husband called the doctor, but he claimed it was fine and that they were scheduled to come in for a scan next week anyways. Next week came and, according to the scan, the baby girl had strangled herself on the umbilical cord, only two thirds of a month away from being born. It was too late for an abortion, and Nona’s mother decided to carry the baby to term and give a natural birth to the corpse anyways. 

But, when the time came, the baby was born alive and healthy. Nona’s mother and father were speechless---this was a complete medical anomaly. Refusing to look at their child until all the forms were complete, Nona’s parents named him Nona, the Latin word for nine, to celebrate him surviving all nine months. Only issue was Nona was a girls name and, though told differently, their child was a boy. This was only figured out once home and away from the center of town due to his parents not wanting any interaction until he was able to come back to their place of residence.

Part 2 (con’t)

Considering his strange birth, Nona assumed he too stole this body from a young girl who was supposed to be born. With some regrets and a lot of guilt, he asked John how he could help, and John said he would have to die so he could have control over the motor functions. This, though still feeling a bit at fault, didn’t sit well with Nona, and he quietly declined the request. 

The therapist asked Nona if he supported this kind of reincarnation belief, and Nona said no. Perhaps as a young and impressionable child this was a plausible situation, but not anymore. Best case scenario, John was just an angry ghost-demon entity toying with a kid so he could get a second chance at life. Worst case scenario, Nona was just legitimately insane.

All John ever did following their strange encounter was badger and harass Nona, molding his life of solitude into a life of empty bickering, hoping he’d eventually fall off the edge and just give into the constant, never ceasing insults and pleas. Nona assumed this all would go away if John was kept at bay, and, for a good couple of years, that seemed to be the case.

Part 3

Once he turned thirteen, that’s when it all went silent. No more talking. No more false memories. No more insane mental screaming matches. It was so normal Nona actually convinced himself and his mother he was fine and with no need for a therapist, so he said goodbye to Mrs Levine, and, with some malintent, asked her if self-imposed emotional incapacitation goes away with time, or her diagnosis was just flawed.

Of course, as soon as he got settled into home life and his regular routine with John, things started to get a little more unhinged. Although there was no more contact from the boy residing in his mind, Nona was still seeing “things” that weren’t there, and hearing things that weren’t supposed to be there, either. This was all dismissed by Nona’s belief in his “recovery” period, and expected a few mental slip-ups. John, on the other hand, was connected cerebrally, and was fully capable of creating auditory and visual hallucinations. And, with that he intended to ruin Nona’s life so uncomfortably bad he’d allow John to take the wheel. These were divided into methods.

Method 1

Nona had never met anyone outside his home life, besides the small group of children with whom he went to school with for only a matter of days. He was sixteen and, in all honesty, awfully lonely. Though his parents were good company, he wanted someone his age that he could talk to and, more importantly, listen to. He wanted someone to love him in a way much different than familial love and hang out with him in a manner opposite than how his parents do. He wanted someone he could argue with about teenager things and someone he could gossip with about, well, teenager things. He just needed another young person in the room with him, sometimes. And he wondered if anyone knew of his existence besides the immediate family.

John felt this burning desire and decided to conjure up the perfect friend for Nona. She was crafted physically from his subconscious preferences, and crafted emotionally from his innermost desires. She showed up randomly at the farm one day and, for the following month, spent every day with Nona outside. She didn’t go inside as to not draw attention to Nona’s mother, because, due to her being purely hallucinogenic, Nona’s mother would just simply see him talking to himself in great detail. And she would stop this, as any good parent should.

Once the two had developed a sort of relationship, the girl asked Nona out. He agreed, obviously excited. The man had never had a friend, let alone a girlfriend. Everything was going swimmingly and, once he noticed the influx of dopamine Nona received whenever she was nearby, John decided to put the bad part of this entire gag into action. Nona’s girlfriend asked to hang out with him in the living room today instead of outside, a room right next to the kitchen where his mother sat at the table reading the paper.

 She shoved him down to the floor with a loud thump and straddled his lap, pulling his chin up to face hers. Nona squirmed uncomfortably under her but decided not to move---this wasn’t too strange of a position. She told him she no longer wanted to waste time doing silly things like talking about their lives and interests and should instead do what teenagers usually do and have sex. Remembering his conditioning, Nona got immediately queasy and had the sudden urge to vomit---his mother seared into his mind an automatic sickness when any vices were brought into play. Nona said he wasn't in the mood and tried gently removing her from his lap, but she stayed grounded, beginning to unbutton and remove his pants. Nona, becoming increasingly more nauseated and uncomfortable, thrashed around and tried to remove the girl with more force, speaking at a still moderate tone. Finally, once she attempted to force herself on him, he screamed and threw the imaginary girl off of him, watching her form disappear in his hands. Above him stood his horrified mother, who watched a disgusting scene unfold: her sixteen year old son, on the floor, half naked, screaming about how sex is evil. She covered her eyes and left the room.

Nona stared at himself in the mirror for the remainder of the day, reminding himself of how disgusting he is. How big of an embarrassment he was. How could he imagine that? Wasn’t he better? Cured?

Method 2

The newspaper today had some alarming news: murderer on the loose. Bald, tall man with a beard. Only targets houses with large amounts of farmland. If seen please inform authorities immediately to be rewarded a cash prize.

At least, that’s what Nona believed he read. In actuality, it was a column about how the local sports team won some championship, but John may have altered it just a bit.

Then, the phone rang. Noticing neither of his parents seemed to be anywhere near the vicinity, Nona answered. The man on the other line said he was the murderer and tonight he would come kill everyone in Nona’s family unless he could be stopped. Then, the line went dead. Although, it was never really alive in the first place. John just made it seem like it was.

As the hours passed, Nona sat at the kitchen table with his head in his hands, sweating profusely. His face was pale with worry and he felt dizzy---why did he have to answer the phone? Why were none of his parents in the room when it happened? A part of him told him to tell his mother about what happened, but most of him advised against it. Being called crazy was bad enough, but the promotion to insanity would be unbearable. Alongside that, his father wasn’t even going to be home until late so, if something did happen, Nona could be held responsible because there were no witnesses. A believable story, too, given his reputation. So, Nona decided to wait it out. When it was dark and he was sure his mother was asleep, Nona grabbed a kitchen knife and sat behind the door, preparing himself for an attack or an uncomfortable sleeping position.

By one, there still wasn’t anyone there. Nona was about to safely give up then heard the door creak open, slowly, and watched the silhouette of a man ably walk into his home. He matched the description completely and, when Nona caught a glimpse of his face, looked like a spitting image of the police sketch. Readying the knife, Nona started to lunge at the man, but stopped. He couldn’t do it.

What are you waiting for?

For this feeling to stop.

What feeling?

Dread.

You dread saving your family?

I dread doing this.

If you just sit behind and watch this man kill your family you’re just as much the murderer!

I am?

Yes! Now go, be the hero! Don’t you want to stop being called crazy?

Yes. 

Then go! Go! Go! Go!

Giving into his second self’s persuasion, Nona jumped at the man and stabbed him between his kidneys. Then, he stabbed the man in the lungs to ensure he was dead. Nona left the knife in the man’s chest cavity and went upstairs to bed.

In actuality, Nona’s father didn’t fit the description. But John made him appear that way anyways.

Method 3

A mother must always love her son, no matter how difficult and how much of a burden he may put on you or your family. Nona was never an easy child, but he received so much love, anyways. But this? This was inexcusable. Murder was not something a mother could easily forgive her son for. Especially not murdering his own father.

Nona’s mother sat at the foot of her son’s bed as he slept, wondering what she would do with him. While she pondered, John gained consciousness---an act he could only do when Nona’s senses were as little heightened when they could be, like during sleep. When Nona woke up, John would be back to a viewer, but that was all he needed. Just fifteen minutes.

“Mother?”

She looked over at him a little startled, not expecting him to be up. “Yes, dear?”

“I think I did something bad last night…I think I might’ve killed my father,” John sighed as Nona, faking remorse. “But, believe me, it was for a good cause.” Nona’s mother nodded, urging him to continue.

“It’s just…Mother, I love you, and I know you love me. Father was getting in the way of our love. He was suffocating it. I just want to be with you! You’re the only woman I have ever loved and---”

John was cut off with a smack as Nona’s mother repeatedly slapped his face; once to punish him for even saying such a disgusting thing and the others to hopefully teach him a lesson. The sudden violence woke the real Nona up, and he began crying due to the confusion and pain. His mother than kicked him out, and he obeyed.

Finale

Nona awoke from his meditation and, after heavy consideration, decided he couldn’t do it. He could no longer fight to keep this body and life for himself. Perhaps John was right. Perhaps he didn’t deserve it. And where would he go? Home? Where his murdered father and disgruntled mother lay? Not like there was anywhere else to turn to, anyways.

“You win, John. I don’t like this life. I don’t want it. I never really amounted to much anyways, didn’t I?”

Nona fastened the rope he brought with him on the tree he was standing next to and tied the noose the best he could. When he secured himself inside, he was dangling, but it wasn’t a high enough fall for him to instantly break his neck---instead, Nona hung there for hours, slowly suffocating to death, being cheered on the whole time by the nice slew of voices John invited into their mind.

Epilogue

No. John didn’t rightfully own the body. No, he wasn’t able to use it in the end. He was just a minor demon who happened to slip into the mind of a child sheltered in nativity and convince him to kill himself. To convince him he, someone with no history of mental illness in his family whatsoever had easily fallen into insanity. To convince his parents their own son wasn’t to be trusted alone with himself.

“Don’t feel bad, Nona. It happens to the best of us.” John said, patting Nona on the back. The young boy stared at his dangling corpse and sighed heavily, not entirely sure whether he should feel relieved he was finally free of his pain, or angry that he'd go down in history as a delusional murderer.

Appearance

Nona, even as a poltergeist, looks the same as he did before he died. He has blonde hair and light blue eyes, and is usually seen wearing a gray turtleneck and puffy purple coat. His age is seventeen, and although he has been a ghost since the early 2000s, has not gotten older. He also usually looks tired with big bags under his eyes.

Personality

Because he was sheltered his whole life and didn't develop any real social skills, Nona is typically awkward and unconventional in his methods of befriending people. He is, however, very brave and headstrong, choosing to spend the rest of eternity fighting to protect the lives of those who's mental states are weak enough for a demon to take over--some may call this a hero's complex. At times, Nona gets lonely, and may be extra clingy to the people he spends time with and, due to his past experience with a "girl", is very hesitant to open up to them, as he doesn't want to repeat the past.

Powers and Abilities

Nona is a poltergeist, and because of this is able to move objects in the physical world around, make loud noises, and cause disturbances. On top of that he is able to float, go through solid objects and make himself appear alive/materialize himself.

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