Lore - Lore Alive 1: The Sleep

Episode Date: October 2, 2026

Welcome to Lore Alive, a special Halloween bonus series that brings dark tales from history to life with immersive sound design and voice actors. Today's tale introduces us to some newlyweds in late 1800s Kentucky who settled in for a new life together, only for their hopes and dreams to meet a terrifying end. Lore Alive was created by Aaron Mahnke, with writing and direction by Nicolas Tecosky, audio production and sound design by Brandon Grugle. This week's episode starred J. Garrett Mitchell as James, Sarah Palm as Octavia, and Nicholas Tecosky as Doctor McClain. ————————— Series Sponsor: Warby Parker: Right now, buy one pair and get additional pairs for 20%. Go to WarbyParker.com/LORE to try on any pair virtually! ————————— ©2026 Aaron Mahnke. All rights reserved.

For over 11 years now, I've been sharing tales from history with you, tales about real people who have done horrible things, tales about creatures that defy explanation, and tales about what happens when folklore and superstition collide with the real world. But there's one thing I've never done. You see, the tried and tested lore formula is a well-researched corner of history, scripted as an approachable essay, and delivered from the perspective of a narrator, me.

But there's only so much my team and I can do to bring history to life for your ears and your minds. So it's time to give you something more. Every Friday this October, we're going to bring one story from history to life through powerful sound design, talented voice actors, and an atmosphere that fits the tale. It's the immersive audio drama style

that you know from other shows I've made, like 13 days of Halloween, Bridgewater or Havocetown, applied to true tales from history's darkest corners. This is lore alive. This entire Halloween series, by the way, was made possible by the generous support of Warby Parker, my absolute favorite maker of prescription glasses. I've been a loyal customer of theirs for over a decade, and it means so much to have their support.

More on that after this episode. For today's featured tale, we travel to Pikeville, Kentucky, in the United States. the late 1800s, where James and Octavia Hatcher are newlyweds settling in for the great adventure of life. But for this young couple, something darker is headed their way, and for those who survive it, it will prove to be a terrifying end to their hopes and dreams. So if you're ready, let's begin. It begins in the churchyard. For a boy who came from very little, who had little in the way of terra firma beneath his feet, It was a moment of great meaning for me.

A wedding. A family of my own. Man plans. God laughs. That laughter still rings in my ears. Pikeville had long been my home. My business, my friends, which I'd had many. And then there was Octavia.

Vivacious, vibrant. so very full of life. For a young man accustomed to keeping his head down and his eyes on his work, she was something of a revelation for me. Because of her, I began to look up at the world. To see my life as something more than just toil. Because of her, I too really began to feel alive. Those early days of marriage sometimes feel now like a fever dream.

Her eyes, her smile, her sharp, complicated, beautiful mind. She may have been a housewife, but she had a keen sense of business. And I would frequently bring her to dinner meetings and have her read outgoing correspondence and helped me find the right tone when great care had to be taken. A fragile business deal. A finicky client. She always knew how to take charge of a situation so gently that intelligent men could not even tell that they were being handled.

I will admit that she could control me in such a way. Though at the time, I truly did believe myself in charge of my own. on will. Anyone who's ever fallen in love with a force of nature would likely say the same. It was a marvelous existence. Growing business, home and hearth. I could not at the time imagine that it could be improved upon. And then, two years into our blissful existence. How is your supper, darling? I don't know how it is at all possible, but you managed to outdo yourself Once again, Octavia. Sweet talk.

If this continues, I expect, I should die plump and happy. Well, I have two surprises for you. The first, voila. Is that? Why, yes, Mr. Hatcher, that is, in fact, a buttercake. Did you use rum or bourbon? Rum, darling. Of course I used bourbon.

How dare you question that. Apologies. Lady. Now, you mentioned a second surprise. Well, I thought that this little arrangement of ours... You mean our marriage. That I do. I believe that in a short time, we have built a love so deep and secure that I wish to test its strength. Go on?

By adding a third party. I don't follow. We're having a child, James. A baby. We've been blessed. But that's marvelous. Hopefully he's got your sense of occasion. Of course she will.

And so we were to be three. Quickly, I found us in a larger home so that our family would have its room to grow. We planned his childhood right out. Octavia would school him early, and I would teach him to work with his hands, as well as the value of horned toads and stickball. he would grow up happy and well-fed, and would go to the finest universities before taking over the family business.

We were on the precipice of a great adventure. But God laughed. Jacob was born in the month of January, 1891. He was a beautiful child. He had his mother's eyes. Those were the very happiest moments of my life. life. From this great distance, I can still feel Jacob's small form against my chest. I can still smell the crown of his head, the smell of newness, of potential, a smell that mingled Octavia's

and mine and made something wholly its own. He was too good for the world. He could not stay in it with us. And so, mere days after gracing us with his presence, Jacob left. As so many infants have done before and since, Octavia was devastated. In the first days, she raged, striking out at whomever would try to bring comfort. And then she would pray. desperately, like a man at the gallows. Octavia?

Octavia, it's the middle of the night. Octavia, come back to bed. What came next was far, far worse. Silence. She took to bed. She took to bed and stayed there. She would eat nothing for days but nibbles of bread and butter that I would bring and never in anyone's presence.

She lay with eyes closed and would give little more than grunts and sighs when I pled with her to speak to me to say something. At night, lying beside her, I could feel the mattress shake with great silent sobs. My gentle hand on her shoulder brought no comfort. She would just go still. as if she did not wish to be perceived in her great and terrible grief.

The last time she spoke to me was just before dawn one morning. James. James. Did you speak? Yes. Darling. Octavia. James. Yes, darling.

I am not well. I know, my love. You have some. suffered a great loss. But I am here. We can mourn together. We can rebuild our life. In time, we can try again to build our family.

No. Of course, not now, darling. Of course, the grief is too immense. No. Of course. Whatever you like, my love. I will remain beside you. I love you.

But she would speak to me no more. I still had to exist within the world for all of my grief. I still had to attend business. And so reluctantly, I took my leave, promising to be back and leaving a simple breakfast for her should she regain her appetite. All day I worried as I signed contracts and met with staff and all of the dull things a man must attend to

in the normal course of a Tuesday. She took up the whole of my mind, usually so meticulous I could not concentrate, and rushed through my work to get home. A dread had, for some reason, taken root in my mind. Finally, I could take no more and raced home. At first glance, all looked the same as it had when I'd left her seven hours earlier. And then I realized She had not touched her food at all Her bread remained uneaten on the plate

The water pitcher and the glass beside the bed remained entirely full Even for her this was unusual Octavia darling When I reached down to touch her forehead she burned with fever Darling Octavia. I called for Dr. McLean immediately, sending a neighbor boy to collect him. Thank you for coming so fast, Doctor.

Yes, of course, Mr. Hatcher. Where's your wife? Just through here. Ah. All right, young lady? What seems to be the problem? I'm afraid she will not speak. Hmm.

She's feverish. Yes. How long has she been this way? The fever is new. But she took to bed a month ago. She has not cut in up since. Why did you not come sooner? I believed it to be grief.

We recently lost our son. Uh... What is it? I believe I know what the trouble may be. What? There's little to do until the fever passes and she wakes. And... What then?

Let me know. There are ways of dealing with hysterical grief and a woman. For now, she needs rest and a watchful eye. Cool compresses on the forehead should help reduce the fever. I'm afraid there's nothing else to be done until she wakes. I'll come by in the morning to check on her. But she would not wake up. For weeks, she lay in bed, wasting away.

I did what I could to keep her alive to help bring some comfort. But in the end, there truly was nothing to be done. It was May when she died. And the weather was unusually hot. I moved to have the funeral as quickly as possible. The service was held in the church where we had been wed, a scant few years before. We buried her in the churchyard. She would finally know peace.

I would not. I could not be still. I wandered the streets each evening after my work was done. There was never any destination in mind, but stillness, which had long been difficult for me, became impossible. It was on one of these nights that I ran across Dr. McLean once more. He carried his bag with him,

as if he had just left a patient at this late hour. Even in the dim light, he looked haggard. Doctor. Yes, hello. Ah. Mr. Hatcher. How are you, doctor? Abysmal, sir.

Ah, yes. And this concerns you, I believe. Oh. Yes. Your wife's illness. Others have shown all the same symptoms. Fever, fatigue, and then they sleep and cannot be awake. A dozen easily.

What is it? Do you know? Not as of yet. There are theories. Has anyone else died? No, but... Given poor Mrs. Hatcher's fate, I am not optimistic for the outcome of this. I'm truly sorry for your loss, Mr. Hatcher.

But I hope you'll forgive me. I'm running between patience now. Please keep me abreast of the situation. I have great interest in the subject. I'd imagine you would, and I will. Good evening, Mr. Hatcher. Good evening, Dr. McLean. The answer to the mystery would later be discovered.

Though for me, far too late. A fly. The Sitsi fly, they called it. The doctor had kept me appraised of the details as they came. It had been an unusually hot source. spring, and the population of flies had exploded in Kentucky. Many suffered that summer of the sleeping sickness. Many had fallen deep into that bottomless slumber.

I could only stand by and shake my head in empathy. I mourned for all who fell ill. It turns out, though, that morning was terribly, terribly premature. One morning, an urgent knock on my door. It was the good doctor. Good day, sir. I... What is it? What's wrong?

Excuse my intrusion, James. I... I have some news that I'm not sure how to... Doctor, it's... it is fine. Speak plainly. A patient. John Miller's son, Robert. What of him? Three days ago, he woke. He was weak and confused, but he has since begun recovering fully.

Well, that is excellent news, is it not? Is it not? The very same day, Mildred Morris awoke. All right. Good. Responding to treatment. I could do no more for them than I could for Octavia. The thing is...

James In the days since More are waking One such man we assumed was dead Until he sat up like Lazarus in the mortuary What are you saying doctor Are you I

Octavia Oh my god Oh my God James I I raced down the street toward the church. Bile rose in my throat, but I choked it down and shook my head.

It could not be. It could not be. When I reached the church yard, the groundskeeper was there, working. A shovel. Do you have a shovel? Calm down, sir. Give me a damn shovel! All right, here, sir! I yanked it from his hands and fell upon Octavia's still fresh grave.

I dug like him now. madman, like a machine. Blisters formed and burst on my hands, and I realized after a while that the strange whining sound that filled the air as I dug was my own voice. And finally,

the coffin. I threw the shovel down and began to dig with my bare hands now bloodied. With a strength, I did not know I possessed. I ripped up the lid of the coffin to find it.

Octavia, but not as I left her. The woman lying in the coffin beneath my feet was dead. Yes, but it was not the peaceful slumber of a woman who had died in bed. This woman, in no way, resembled my beautiful, bright, vivacious Octavia. Her face was twisted, frozen in a silent scream that would not end, that would reverberate. in my skull for the rest of my life. Her fingernails were broken and bent. Blood had kicked at the end of her fingertips.

She had scratched the coffin lid until she could no longer. Had raged against the dying of the light. This woman, who I had loved so completely, who had borne my child, who had struggled so fiercely with the moment. misery of the loss. How could I have known? How could I have known that she would wake once more?

How could I know that I... The man who loved her most in this world had truly sent her to her death. This. The horror. We had been as one. We had been a force. And we had had had plans since. Such plants.

An empire. A world of our own. A family. But man plans. God laughs. Or Alive was made possible by Warby Parker. Before Warby Parker, I had to do that thing that we all hate, stand in front of a wall of frames, and find the needle in the haystack.

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An audio adventure like this is a team effort, so there are a lot of humans to give credit to. For starters, Laura Live was created by me, Aaron Mankey, and it was written and directed by Nicholas Tocke of 13 Days of Halloween fame. This week's episode, star J. Garrett Mitchell as James, Sarah Palm as Octavia, and Nicholas Tocosky as Dr. MacLean. The episode itself was recorded by Blake Long with post-production and sound design by Brandon Gruggle from Atypical Artists. Our show was produced by Nicholas Tocoski and me, Aaron Manky, with special thanks to

Lauren Shippen. I hope you've enjoyed this additional Halloween treat, and I promise no tricks, you'll get another one next Friday. And until next time, stay spooky.