Creepy - The Sandman

Episode Date: June 10, 2019

Good night...sleep tight...***Written by Tam Lin, guest narration by Owen McCuen, Nichole Goodnight and Heather Thomas***Check out Haunted Places at Parcast.com/Haunted***New $5+ patrons at Patreon.com/Creepypod get a limited edition logo lapel pin on top of other rewards! ***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/creepypod***Produced by Steve Blizin, Puzzle Audio***Title music by Alex Aldea***Artwork by Dakota Miller ***Intro/Outro Narration by Joe Stofko Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

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Listener discretion is advised. Creepy presents. The Sandman. Credited to Tam Lynn. Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things that escape those who dream only at night. Edgar Allan Poe. Eleanor. Go to bed, wait for the sandman.

Even as it came out of James' mouth, it seemed to him a strange thing to say. He was not sure why he had. But for some reason, it worked. Daniel went to bed. The next morning, though, he asked. What does a sandman look like? James was making breakfast. Daniel sat at the table, short legs swinging under his chair.

Oh, nothing, really. James said. It's just an expression. What does it mean? It's just something people say. He put a plate full of eggs in front of Daniel and kissed him on top of his head. He thought that would be the end of it. Until he saw the sandman for himself.

He was getting ready for bed and stopped by Daniel's room to check on him while he slept as he often did. It was such a routine precaution that when he saw a pale naked man sitting on the edge of Daniel's bed, rocking back and forth, It took a moment for him to process what he was seeing. He reacted the way any father would, of course. He ran into the room screaming. And for a moment he thought about attacking the intruder. But then the man on the bed turned. And that's when James saw that it wasn't really a man.

It was a pale, slithery thing, hairless and warped. Its joints turned the wrong way and its body out of shape with itself. When it moved, it was. It was like an insane marionette dancing on a stage. James froze. The skittering thing watched him. He felt spreading warmth, and he realized he'd pissed his pants. Only when he remembered that Daniel was still there in bed,

staring at the broken-shaped thing sitting a foot away, did he regain the courage to move. He grabbed Daniel and ran. In the hall, he turned to see if the thing would follow them. But it didn't. For a moment it watched. And then, moving like a stop-motion nightmare, it crawled to the window and jumped out, leaving only the billowing curtain to mark its passing.

James had trouble talking to the police. He reported a break in. But when asked to describe the intruder, he didn't know what to say. How could he make the ordinary man in the blue uniform sitting at his kitchen table while two of his colleagues searched the house understand a thing like he'd seen. He couldn't even understand it himself. To make it worse, Daniel's memory did not correspond to James'

as he described an ordinary-looking burglar. A man in a mask. He said. James thought about it. Had it been a mask? No. It would have had to have been a full costume and an elaborate one.

something like they would use for a movie, and that would not explain the way it moved. But in the end, he simply echoed his son's testimony. A man in a mask. He said. A burglar. The lie unsettled him almost as much as what had happened. The doctor said Daniel wasn't hurting and showed no signs of molestation.

James was relieved. They stayed at a motel for a couple nights until they felt ready to come home. and then James had a new security system installed, along with bars on the windows. He didn't like the sight of them in Daniel's room, but it seemed like the only thing to do. James was frightened that first night back in the house, but Daniel, strangely, was not. When asked if he felt okay sleeping alone, he just said yes. In the end it was James who found himself wishing he were not sleeping alone. He was up all night listening for the sound of anything moving in the house.

Although he had convinced himself that his memory was faulty and that it had been a normal, albeit a probably deeply disturbed man in his son's room. When he closed his eyes, even for a moment he pictured bloodless skin and a twisted, inhuman face. He found himself wondering, Why my house? Why my family? He knew, of course, that there didn't have to be.

be a reason. But still, he wondered. Two weeks later, Daniel stopped talking. James didn't notice at first. Kids went through quiet phases sometimes. But eventually he tried to get Daniel to talk

and he wouldn't. Eventually became clear that he couldn't. Back to the doctor they went. Nothing wrong with him that we can see was the diagnosis. Was it the trauma, James asked? Could be, they said. Sometimes these things come on late. Children can be a mystery even to those who know them best.

They recommended a child psychologist whom James couldn't afford. He could not, for that matter, even afford the bill they were giving him now. Nothing seemed to help. Daniel would write out answers to questions sometimes, but never more than a yes or no. When James would ask him, him what was wrong, or if he'd seen or heard anything that frightened him, Daniel would only stare. He seemed furtive and bemused. James found himself missing the sound of his son's voice. Sometimes he wanted to hear it so bad that he ached. But it seemed that Daniel wouldn't talk again until he was ready. James had other things to worry about, too. He was convinced beyond reason that the intruder was not really gone.

Though the alarm never went off and the locks and bars remained undisturbed, he was sure that he heard movement in the night. Not normal movement. It was a sound like a huge snake slithering through the house. When he heard it, he imagined horrible things. Nothing was ever there when he went to investigate, though he often thought he'd glimpsed something just out of the corner of his eye.

A pale foot or a misshapen shadow that would sink away as soon as he turned. He rarely slept. When he did he had haunted dreams. Soon he realized he had not left the house in weeks except to go to the bank and buy groceries. He felt hemmed in. With Daniel acting mute, he hadn't had an actual conversation with anyone in weeks. So he called his mother. The connection was bad and her voice sounded.

faint on the verge of not being there at all. I guess I'm okay, Ma. He said, pausing to wipe the sweat from his palms and make sure he could hear Daniel playing in the next room. But things have been a little rough. We had a break in. Oh, how awful. Did they take anything? Nah, just ran off.

It was weird, though. I haven't really felt comfortable since then. Are you still working at that hospital? No, Ma, I left last year. You know that. Oh, well, have you been getting out? What about that nice woman you were seeing last year? The one who played the piano? James scowled.

She was always asking that kind of thing. Didn't she know how hard it was being a single father? That he didn't have the time? He was about to say so when something made him pause. Ma, is there anyone else on the line? I don't think so. James was sure he heard it, though. The short gasping sound of someone trying to hold their breath and failing.

A cold feeling crept across the back of his neck. You're sure nobody is listening on your other phone? Why the service is so bad. Then what is... James stopped. If the sound wasn't coming up. Coming from her end, then. Oh, no.

He dropped the phone and raced to the hall. The extension hung on its hook, undisturbed. Heart pounding, he hurtled into the garage. The spare phone sat in a workbench. No one was in sight. But could they have been? Could someone have been here all along listening to his phone and then slithered away? Might they be here even now?

The next day, he took out the extra phone extensions. He even filled the jacks with rubber cement. Daniel watched him work, eyes curious, but James offered no explanation. He began giving Daniel a light physical exam every week. His CNA training was a little rusty after a year on disability, but you never really forgot. It was an absurd thing to do, of course. Even if there was a physical cause for Daniel's behavior, it would be nothing he could discover this way. and he was aware on some level that it was a compulsive behavior.

Nevertheless, it made him feel better. James set the diaphragm of the stethoscope against Daniel's chest, but he could not locate a heartbeat. He moved his hand in search of the right spot to no avail. Then, to test it, he listened to his own heartbeat. It came through steady and clear. But when he checked Daniel again, he didn't hear him. anything. A thought came unbidden to him of the tin man and the Wizard of Oz, whose chest was

empty as a kettle. A sick feeling roiled his stomach. He threw the stethoscope down and grabbed Daniel by the shoulders, looking into his face. Daniel stared back with bright eyes, even smiled a little, with the corners of his mouth. James felt the tinge of tears. He swept his son up in his arms and hugged him and Daniel hugged back. Then James put his shirt back on him and sent him to play. The stethoscope he decided was broken. He threw it in the trash. Things got worse.

James' terrors were no longer relegated to the long hours of the night. Now it seemed that some creeping, some skittering and scuttling, some unknown noise in some dark corner or another, filled every second of his death. The thought of how big the house really was started to weigh on him. There were so many rooms he wasn't in at any given time. So many places someone or something else could be. He imagined strange figures occupying the rest of his home when he wasn't around,

melting into the walls or merging with the shadows whenever he turned on a light or opened a door. How would he know if they were there? How would he ever know? Soon he didn't even have to be outside of a room to imagine it. When he walked up the stairs, he pictured pale figures lurking beneath them. When he went down the hall, he pictured a crawling thing slithering behind the walls, shadowing his every step. If he sat too long in the same chair, he imagined that it was right behind him.

He was never comforted when he turned around and found nothing there. as he could only guess that it meant it had moved swiftly and silently behind him once again. Wherever he was not looking right now, that was where he imagined it to be. He was losing his mind. He knew it. The only thing that helped him cling to sanity was that Daniel seemed undisturbed. Other than his muteness, his behavior was perfectly normal. Whenever he seemed to sense that his father was troubled, he would have to sense that his father was troubled,

he would hug him or squeeze his hand or even smile. Sometimes when he left the room, James cried. One night he found himself creeping around the house with no lights on at 2 o'clock in the morning. If the intruding thing had taken to violating his daytime activities, then he would get revenge by confronting it on its own terms, the night. And really, night was no more frightening to him now than day. They were almost interchangeable. He patted barefoot down the halls, up the stairs, in and out of disused rooms.

Sometimes he stopped to listen, hoping to locate it by sound. It was a stealthy, creeping thing he knew, but it was awkward at times, and it couldn't always keep its strangely shaped limbs from making their distinct irregular footsteps. The smallest noise would give it away. There was one room he says. I suspected it spent most of its time in, the spare bedroom. Not a bedroom at all, really. More like a closet, just large enough to accommodate a bad if one were so inclined.

It was unpainted and uncarpeted and drafty. He always meant to fix it up. He didn't come in here very often because he disliked the bare, unused look of it. It made him think of a partially dissected corpse. He came in now, though. If the thing made its nest in any one place in the house, this would be it. Of course, there was nothing there now. But that didn't mean there was nothing there.

He cursed, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. What was he missing? How did it hide from him? What was it secret? He peered into the room's empty corners one by one, getting his face a few inches from the plaster and floorboards. so he could be certain, certain, that there was no space for it to conceal itself. The light bulb flickered.

He froze. My God, he thought, it's on the ceiling. He pictured a crawling above him like a huge, pale lizard. That's how it gets around, he thought. That's how it escapes any time I should have it cornered. It just scuttles up the wall and hides right over my head. He imagined it dangling down behind him like a spider. If I turn around, he thought, it will be there, hanging with its face right next to mine.

He held his breath. He did not want to turn around, but he had no choice. It was between him and the door. With a quiet sob, he rounded on his heels. Of course, he was alone. There was no man on the ceiling. He'd checked twice. Maybe it crawled out and was waiting for him in the hall.

But when he checked there, the coast was once again clear. It should have been a relief, but it was not. After all, it had to be in here somewhere. If the ceiling was not its trick, it just meant it was something else, something even more strange, even more clever. He went to Daniel's room. He had not stopped to check on him at night, like he always. always had. This time, though, rather than open the door, he listened at it first, pressing his

ear against the grain of the cheap wood and holding his breath terrified that he would hear a skittering sound on the other side of the barrier. What he heard instead shocked him more. Daniel was talking to someone. James recoiled for a second and then, when he caught his breath. He all but kicked to the door in. Daniel was already awake indeed, sitting up in bed, but he was not saying anything now. The light flashed on and James stalked halfway into the room before stopping, suddenly torn. What did he want more?

To confirm that his son could speak again? Or to find whomever he was speaking to? The creek of a doorhange settled the matter for him. He ran to the closet and threw it open. there was nothing inside, or at least nothing that shouldn't be there. He swept aside clothes under hangers, but nothing was hiding between them. Then he dragged the toy locks out and emptied it into the floor. Nothing.

He combed along the bare walls and floors, and yes, the ceiling, pushing aside every last bit of rubbish and stray mick-knack so that he could be sure, absolutely sure, that nothing was hiding. All the while, Daniel watched him. After a few minutes, James was panting and covered in sweat, and the closet was bare. And there was neither intruders nor answers inside. It struck him as funny somehow, and he started to laugh. Very quietly.

He kicked his son's toys out of the way as he went to sit down on the bed dazed. He became aware all at once of several things. first being that he had not slept in days and was nowhere near his right mind the second was how close he'd come to really losing it for good tomorrow he decided they would both sleep until the afternoon and when they did wake up he and daniel would get out of this creaky old house no more staying cooped up like prisoners no more check-ups and no more dreams about monster He would even take the bars off the windows. It was time to get back to living like real people again. It was time to... James saw it when he brushed a hand through Daniel's hair. He pulled Daniel a little too roughly closer.

His son acquiesced to the examination without fidgeting or complaint is James pawed at the side of his head, hoping that what he was seen would almost stop being apparent. He stared and stared until he ached from not blinking. But there was no denying what was right in front of his eyes. Daniel was missing an ear. He realized with mounting nausea, both ears. There was no injury, no incision, no mark where there should have been,

simply smooth blank flesh. as blank is Daniel's quiet, unperturbed demeanor. James swept him up in his arms and ran into the hall. He was not sure where he was going or what he meant to do when he got there. He just knew that there was now nothing more important to getting his son out of that house. Their path was cut off. A naked man sat in the hallway with his back to them. No, not a man.

James recognized its stretched limbs and stooped shoulders. The pale things squatted on its haunches, rocking back and forth like it was palsied. It almost seemed to be in pain. James hugged his son closer and backed away. Then he heard Daniel's voice. James turned to Daniel, and he heard the voice again. But Daniel's lips hadn't moved. James looked back at the hunched figure.

Its head jerked when it talked like a tick. James' mouth went dry. It took several tries before he could speak. Don't call me that. This voice is named for you. Go away. Leave my family alone. The longer it talked, the more the voice became distorted and blurred.

An icy feeling nestled in James' stomach. Who are you? Someone who came to visit? Why here? You invited me. James's heart thudded against the inside of his chest. Why? I had something you wanted.

James licked his dry lips. You're lying. You don't have anything I want. I want you to leave. Leave and never come back. Daniel's mother. What? Who is Daniel's mother?

What the hell kind of question is that? How old is Daniel? James blinked again. The thing's voice caused a pinching pain in the center of his forehead. Stop asking me these things. When is Daniel's birthday? I don't know. What is his birthday?

Middle name. Shut up. What was his first word? I said, shut up! James wanted to tear the thing apart with his bare hands. Only the heaviness of Daniel and his arms kept him where he was. You were alone. You wanted a son, so I need one for you.

James' hands began to shake. It doesn't make sense. Made? Out of what? Out of myself. James's stomach turned over. But now I need those parts back. Neil picked at James's shoulder to get his attention. Something was strange about Daniel's face. Danny? Open your eyes.

Daniel scrunched his eyes shut tighter. Open your eyes. open your eyes Danny Danny Open your eyes Open your eyes Daniel shook his head

Trying to refuse But he couldn't hold it forever Eventually his eyelids Flicked up And James saw the truth Daniel's eyes Were gone James almost dropped him

For a second He wanted to throw his son down So that he could stop looking into those empty holes in his face Daniel opened his mouth as if to speak, but of course, he had no voice. He's coming back to be a part of me again. No, no, no, no, give him back, give him back. I cannot.

It has been too long. I warned you this would happen. You're lying, you're lying, you're a fucking liar. Give me my son back. Give him back. I do not lie. I warned you. He could not exist forever, but you do not remember.

You can only remember what I want you to. You forget all the times we have talked. Daniel felt like a doll or an empty bag. His hair was falling out, disappearing before I touch the ground. His hands vanished into his sleeves and his feet rolled up inside his pant cuffs. James cradled the tiny shapeless thing, tears streaming down his face. Soon he held a pile of empty clothes. And then those two were gone.

He looked around the house. Toys disappeared. Photos vanished from their frames. Daniel's little shoes were no longer by the door. James turned towards Daniel's room and confronted the wall where the door should be. He groped. the blank surface, fingertips scrambling.

He hit his head against the wall. The pain didn't feel real. Why did you do this? It was what you wanted, and I learned so much. This is impossible. People will ask, people will wonder,

the police, the hospitals, the people in the neighborhood. They have already forgotten him. They only have remembered. Remember what I want them to, like you. James pressed his hands to his aching skull. Oh, God. Will I at least remember him after this? You can try, but your mind will fail you.

Now that everything he was is part of me again. James sat on the floor, looking at the blank wall, Out the corner of his eye He saw the thing creep toward him And even felt its wet hand on his shoulder But he did not look at it If I won't remember any of this Then why tell me

Because A father should know how James was alone Abigail worried about James sometimes When they met a year ago He said he'd never been married and he'd never had kids but there was a certain pained expression he assumed when he said the last part. Abigail knew that look.

She'd met parents with lost children before. You learned to recognize it. And there were other things about him that worried her too. Sometimes she would find him staring at a particular spot on the wall, brow furrowed in concentration. He did not seem to realize he was doing it. and of course there was the insomnia and the sleepwalking to consider too. Yes, there was lots to worry about.

But she loved him all the same. James still said he'd never had kids, and neither had she. She'd long wanted one, but it was impossible, and she'd worry that James wouldn't stay with a woman who couldn't be a mother, though he constantly assured her that it was not so. There were times, and more and more often of late there were nights when James took to sleepwalking. Even Abigail imagined that she'd heard strange scuttling noises in the house and sound possible shapes in dark corners. When she thought she would do anything, absolutely anything,

if it meant having a little daughter for she and James to raise. And at those moments, she became truly afraid. but she never knew why. For more information, including pictures and videos of the stories told on this podcast, or to suggest stories for future episodes, please visit us at CreepyPod on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook, or email all stories told on this podcast can be found at creepypastorwiki.com. and are protected by a Creative Commons license.

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