Full Body Chills - I Eat Where You Sleep

Episode Date: October 31, 2022

A story of bedtime horrors, hungry and foul.I Eat Where You SleepWritten by P. T. LehmannYou can read the original story and view the episode art at fullbodychillspodcast.com. Looking for more chills? Follow Full Body Chills on Instagram @fullbodychillspod. Full Body Chills is an audiochuck production. Instagram: @audiochuckTwitter: @audiochuckFacebook: /audiochuckllcTikTok: @audiochuck

This episode was produced with audio effects in full surround sound. For the best experience, we kindly recommend you listen with headphones. Hi listeners, I'm Jason Simon, and I have a story I want to tell you. A story of bedtime horrors, hungry and foul. So gather around and listen. Close. His shadow stretched in a column of light from the doorway into darkness. Moonlight choked behind clouds turned familiar fixtures into undefined masses of bulging black.

He couldn't help but feel as though someone was there. Perhaps it was a mad slasher from movies he shouldn't have watched alone. Maybe it was a faceless horror from stories read too late at night. It could even be what we all know deep down really lies in wait at night. A flick of the lights quickly dissipated these intrusive thoughts as the furniture was stripped of shadow and his familiar bedroom became tangible. Like any other night, he first took out his wallet and keys and set them on the nightstand. Next, he sat down on the bed and peeled off his socks. Laying down on top of the messy bedspread, he stared into his phone screen, dull-eyed, perhaps scrolling through his feed to talk with friends or looking at a funny video to

rid himself of that uneasy feeling of being watched. Whatever he was doing, it wasn't working. He kept looking away towards the open door. Something was wrong. His heart was beating in his chest gradually faster. There couldn't be anyone else in the house. But what was that noise? His grip on the phone tightened, his jaw cinched shut.

Didn't he lock the front door? His breathing became shallow as every muscle constricted, waiting for something to grab him. He knew that something was after him. He quickly reached over for an orange bottle and twisted off its cap. Taking a little white pill from it and washing it down, he completed the next step of the routine. It made him feel better. For a moment. Certainly, no one was there.

It was just another trick of the mind. With his fill of phone he got up and, after scanning the ground, picked up a pair of boxers and a nightshirt. For the next part of the routine he opened the nightstand and retrieved a portable speaker. He was off for a hot shower. A necessary step to calming his frayed nerves. Before leaving, he took a precursory peek under the bed and a quick glance through the closet. No one there.

Shutting the blinds and flicking the light, he closed the door behind, leaving the bedroom empty. Now was my cue. I slithered out from my hiding place among the trees behind the apartment. The two-story brown brick structure had at least thirty windows on its backside. They were all identical with their blinds drawn, but I knew which one belonged to my mark. Locked, as expected, but never a problem.

I ran a talon around the window, searching for any gaps. Somewhere that the frame may be warped. After finding a small catch, I checked for wandering eyes. This part takes time. Once I get going in, it's harder coming out, and an outsider's attention would only make things messier than I desire. At least inside the apartment, the occupant would be predisposed.

Outside, everything looked clear. With a quick thrust, I crammed my finger into the paper thin gap, pushing with all my weight against my arm. The hand slowly followed, oozing into the room on the other side. Bones were rubber and muscles became gelatinous as I worked up to the first elbow. The limb hung on the other side like an old stocking. I kept pushing in, not stopping until I was up to the second elbow. Finally, enough was squished through for me to start my work. Flexing fingers to get the ichor flowing. Feeling returned to my arm. First, the blinds. The string was easy to reach.

A quick pull gave me a view into the bedroom. Next, the latch. Reaching around to the top, I flipped the little lever, and my entrance was unlocked. With all the preliminary work done, I pulled away from the frame. Once completely out, the window glided open with the lightest touch. Before entering, I slipped off my disguise, an old grey hoodie from a past acquaintance, and tossed it aside. Then I climbed through the window and locked it. The sound of hip-hop and running water echoed from nearby while I surveyed the room.

It was minimally furnished. A scratched-up three-drawer dresser stood opposite a mismatched nightstand and a well-worn mattress with deep impressions. In a messy heap on the floor were several sheets and piles of half-folded laundry. Beside the nightstand was an open backpack, spilled over with books and other electronics. The closet doors yawned open, revealing a row of hanging shirts and a hamper full of dirty clothes. Given the limited options, the best bet for hiding was under the bed. A classic.

Lucky for me, he had splurged on a bed frame, meaning I wouldn't have to do the window routine to fit all the way underneath. But before crawling under, curiosity got the better of me. I looked inside the nightstand where I found a leather wallet. Benjamin Fleisch. Shame. He was only 21. So young. Ben finished up in the shower so I crawled under the bed. As he returned, I could feel his new sense of calm. A steady heartbeat. He had today's dirty clothes which he tossed towards the hamper.

Missing the shot, he yawned and approached the bed. His ankles were mere inches away. It would have been easy for me to just grab him right there. Drag him under and entangle him in my limbs smothering his face with one open palm. But in my pursuit, a predator must be patient. After all, it's much easier when they're asleep. There was a sudden catch in his breath. Ben stalled there at the side of the bed for a second too long. Something was bothering him. He walked around the bed over to the window. The blinds fluttered as he pulled them down. How careless of me to leave them open.

Ben was growing unsettled. He checked the closet again. Despite how small it was, he spent several minutes looking in every nook and cranny to convince himself no one was there. It was not enough to satisfy him, though. He turned and walked out of the bedroom to check around the apartment for intruders. Even from my hiding spot, I could have assured him that the two of us were the only ones in the house that night. It's my sixth sense. That same sense can tell me the neighbors were out or sleeping, that the individual three doors down was having a restless night, and that the one across the street was up doing schoolwork. Ben walked back in, not finding anything else to ruffle his feathers.

For good measure, he locked the bedroom door before hopping in bed. Wasn't it lucky he skipped checking underneath? I knew Ben wasn't going to sleep just yet. He continued his nightly ritual by reaching into his backpack and retrieving out a set of headphones and a laptop. Ben typed away, busy with homework or games. It's rather annoying when they make me wait like that. And they certainly don't do a service to themselves. I knew you were uneasy, Ben, but sleep eases so many problems.

If you just let your mind and heart rest, you'll find your troubles melt away. With this little distraction, I couldn't resist taking a peek. Squeezing around, I oriented myself towards the foot of the bed, slowly stretching my neck up and over the end. Ben was laying down, resting his head against a stack of pillows. Harsh blue light shone onto a deadpan face, sweat speckling his brow. I could tell he had calmed down from the little curtain conundrum. All vitals were at a steady pace.

His eyelids were heavy, and his head sunk low. It was now time for bed. Ben yawned and shut his laptop. I quickly slid back under the bed. The laptop was deposited on the floor the headphones put into the nightstand. He rolled and turned, springs squeaking with each shift as he tried to find a comfortable position. The tossing and turning became more sporadic with time, and soon he had drifted off. Quietly crawling on all sevens out from my predatory den. I rose to full height, head bent under the low ceiling and standing over the sleeping morsel.

His breathing was deep and gentle as he slumbered. I readied my hands above the dreamer. A toothless smile spread across each palm. I struck. One hand smothered his face, another bound both legs, and his waist was restrained with two more. Snapping out of the slumber, Ben desperately thrashed around, panicking, frantically fighting to break free. It was no use, ever I had them in my grasp.

A gag, a belch, and then an acrid old sludge spewed out of each palm. His attempts to scream were choked by the foul bile. What oozed out between my fingers turned from orange to a shade of red as it worked its magic. Each spot that I grasped began to feel soft like wet paper mache. His struggling became labored. His heart slowed. What few movements he made were from muscle spasms out of his control. It would be over soon. There is no need to hold so tight anymore, and I peeled away from the waist. He attempted to raise an arm, fingers twitched before falling off like icicles melting

off a roof. The elbow bent back the wrong way before flopping down lifeless. His fight was over. I removed my grip on his legs, muscles still clinging to my hand as I pulled away, though it was closer to resembling strands of mucus now. The head crushed easily like a spoiled gourd. A few minutes more and he finished melting into a paste as thick as oatmeal. The clothes were easily removed from the mess. Extra care was taken to pluck out all of the tooth fillings. With a handful of slop, I began to shovel it in. The deed was done, and the only remnant of the night's event was a pasty smear left on the mattress, the burnt orange of a sunset. I had no interest in swiping any of Ben's personal belongings.

Material objects mean little to us. With the window unmatched and thrown back open, I flocked out full from tonight's meal. My first in a month. Slamming it back into place I didn't bother to lock it again. True more care should have been taken on the exit, however much like humans lethargy often sets in after a large meal. But besides any leftover evidence would mean nothing to the curious. What would you make out of a three-digit handprint not unlike a large maple leaf?

Or genetic material that's closer to a fungus than any human? The hoodie was right where I left it. Straightening up as much as I could, it slipped on neatly. Extra limbs were concealed by wrapping them up out the waist, giving the appearance of a little punch. Arms were pushed through the sleeves, and misshapen hands were hidden in the front pocket. Pants were not a problem. My skin naturally had the appearance of old, worn denim, especially in the nightlight. With my head tucked down as far as possible, I reached up through the collar and pulled over the hood. No one should be awake at this hour, but if they

saw me they might just think it's a strangely tall man out late at night. Someone they won't want to bother for lack of interest or out of intimidation. I walked out from behind the apartment block and onto the street. Yellow lights shined weakly on the weedy sidewalks and whole pocket road. Not a star tainted the pure black sky. It was my favorite time of night for a stroll. A nice walk after a meal. This was certainly a charming neighborhood.

Down the street from the apartment block was residential housing. The type with picketed backyard, well-kept front lawn and white siding. A picturesque scene of Americana with nine to five fathers, a busy mother, two children and a family pet. Each building was identical from the outside. Nine to five fathers, a busy mother, two children, and a family pet. Each building was identical from the outside. Of course, it is the insides that have my interest. And despite the outward appearance, each and every one is special. Offering a different treat. I reached out to the mines in each house as I passed.

Amongst them were a few restless sleepers, but there was a stronger pull still. I felt it at the corner. Two stories, shingled roof, the loveliest gable window cracked open to let in the summer air. It was a house full of dreamers. But on the second floor, someone was wide awake. They weren't in bed. No, I knew they were up and about. Their heart was thumping, breath short. I could feel the butterflies in their stomach. What could you be doing, stranger? Have you checked under your bed? Did you hear something in the kitchen? Sleep well tonight.

There are no intruders. Not tonight. This was a nice block, but not one I wish to stay on for much longer. There are still many houses to visit and plenty of those to meet. Those who not only want to meet me, but actively search me out. Those who are a lot like Ben, who are apprehensive of the dark, who are compelled to check in their closets and under their bed, who feel that the shadows are reaching out to them and that soon, out of the darkness, something will seize them. For those who look for a bogeyman,

I am more than happy to meet them halfway. Full Body Chills is an AudioChuck production. This episode was written by P.T. Lehman and read by Jason Simon. This story was modified slightly for audio retelling, but you can find the original and full on our website. So, what do you think, Chuck? Do you approve? No!