Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - A Mother's Will | Part 2

Episode Date: July 25, 2025

Trapped in a decaying house where time resets and trauma festers, the Henkel children endure their mother’s relentless hauntings—each night a ritual of rot, regret, and the unbearable weight of a family that refuses to die. Author: Jake Bible * * * CONTENT DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content not limited to intense themes, strong language, and depictions of violence intended for adults. Parental guidance is strongly advised for children under the age of 17. Listener discretion is advised.  #drnosleep #scarystories #horrorstories #doctornosleep #horrorpodcast #horror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

To Maude, the rest of her family are idiots, complete morons. And she has no problem telling each and every one of them her thoughts on this subject, especially her mother. I do not care what your cousin thinks, Kelly. Ashley will not go on a date with him, she says into the heavy black telephone handset. The thick cord spirals down to the phone's base, a piece of technology that is as lethal as it is convenient. Maude waits for Kelly to respond.

But, per usual, something her sister Orsa says all the time, Kelly is silent. You don't have to agree with me, Maude continues. She picks up the phone base off the small stand in the hallway and carries it into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. Dragging the long cord, Maude hurries to her bed, where she settles in cross-legged. But you know how mother is? She'd never let your cousin, who was 21, take my 19-year-old sister to some movie. If she did, it'd be because she'd go with and insist that the theater lights be up at full the whole time.

That's not a very nice thing to say about your own mother. Maude jumps and looks around her bedroom. Mother? There is no answer. Kelly? Kelly is not on the phone, dear. Maude jumps again. Her eyes searching the corners of her room.

the shadows by her chest of drawers, the darkness that spills out of the partially open closet. I have to call you back. Mod hangs up the phone. There is no one to call back. Where's the voice coming from? Is it the closet? Maude cannot tell.

Mother? We should talk more on the telephone. Maude's head whips to the right, and she stares at the curtained window. Did the voice come from out there? Is her mother outside in the permanent twilight? When I was a young girl, we didn't have a telephone. Did you know that? Yes, mother, I know. You've told me so many times.

Mod eases a leg off the bed and softly sets her foot down on the hardwood floor. Where are you? This is getting silly. I had to walk two miles down to the Cohen's farm. They had a phone on a party line with the Lewis's and the Ratchers. Yes, mother, I've heard this. Now come out this instant. I'm just. I am not happy with this taunting. Sounding more and more like me every day. I wonder if that is a good thing or a bad thing. Except, in order to sound like you, I have to hide.

But I'm not you. So I'll stand right here, out in the open, and say my peace. But you aren't standing, are you, my dear? Maude rolls her eyes and unwinds her other leg out from under her. Then she sets that foot on the hardwood and stands up. That was so easy to remedy, wasn't it? Yes, Mother, it was easy. So is this!

Two gray-skinned hands shoot out from under the bed and grab Maude by the ankles. They yank back so fast with so much force that Maude doesn't even have time to get her hands out in front of her. She manages to turn her face at the very last second, ending up with a split and bruised cheek instead of a broken nose. Mother! She shouts and tries to scramble away. Stop this! But her mother doesn't stop it. And the few inches of progress Mod makes are lost as she's pulled back under the bed.

She flips herself onto her back and jams her hands against the bed frame to keep from being completely dragged beneath. There's pain in her ankles as they are held together tightly, their bones grinding against each other while something is wound around and around them, quickly cutting into skin. Mother! Pain below gets worse than suddenly eases up. She tries to move her legs, to draw them up to her. But they are held tight under the bed. Mother, what have you done? Did you tie me to the bed?

Did I? The voice, Mother's voice, echoes from somewhere in the room that is not under the bed. Maude whips her head to the left, but sees nothing except for a pair of shoes and a single sock with a hole in the toe, sitting over by the chest of drawers. She whips her head to the right and sees a wall. Be still now. Maude pushes against the bedframe, hoping to dislodge her feet. feet and legs from the bed. I said be still!

Mother's face hangs over the edge of the bed. Maude shrieks and flinches away, but not before her mother is able to slip a loop with telephone cord around her right wrist and cinch it tight. What are you doing? As she reaches to undo the cord, her mother drops a different loop around the other wrist and cinches that one tight.

Then mother disappears and like a marionette, Maude's hands are pulled up and over the edge of the mattress. Ow! Mother, stop! The tension on her wrists grows and grows and grows. Tension becomes discomfort, becomes pain, becomes terror, as Maude realizes that if her mother continues to pull, she'll yank Maude's arms right out of their sockets.

She can even feel the slow burn happening in her shoulders as limits start to be met. Mother! When Maude tries to free her legs again, she screams in agony, as the force she uses is instantly translated to force. to force on her wrists and arms. You tied my wrists and ankles together in a loop.

What is wrong with you? Nothing. Mother appears over the edge of the mattress. She grins down at Maude, and she slowly reveals something she's holding in her right hand. The telephone. All four pounds of black bakelight plastic. Maude stares up at the bottom of the phone

as it hovers precariously over her head. Let's talk, shall we? Her mother asks, I am not in the mood for this mother. You are my oldest, Maude. I know that, mother. Can we not do this? Please?

As the oldest, there are expectations. I know that, too. You can stop this at any point. Do you believe you are living up to your expectations? What? Do you feel you are living up to your expectations? Do you really want me to answer that question? Yes.

Considering my current position? No, mother. I have not lived up to my own expectations. Oh, good. Because you haven't lived up to mine either. Can you untie me now? It's for your own good. You always say that, and yet we always end up here.

My ankles are tied together with telephone cord. You have lassoed my wrists with telephone cord, and you have connected it all. so if I pull up with my feet, my arms are yanked by the cord. If I try to pull with my arms, my legs are stretched until my hips pop. Does this look like it's for my own good mother? Her mother frowns, looks at the phone in her hand, looks down at Maude, then shrugs. I suppose I understand how you can see it another way.

What are you doing with that phone, mother? You know what I'm doing with it. But it wasn't you. Mother blinks. Mother frowns. Mother glances at the phone she holds only a few feet above her daughter's exposed face. Do you really want it to be like it was? What it like is to not be threatened with a telephone every damn night.

That's what I really want it to be like, Mother. Do you feel threatened by this phone? The way you were holding it is very threatening, and I know how this ends. How about we change the story tonight? Change the story? Yeah, you can set the phone aside instead of using it to smash my face in. And what a beautiful face it is.

Not as beautiful as Ashley's, of course. Of course. And a little more plain than Orsa's, which is why you are always putting on too much makeup. You can dress up a pig, but you can't teach it manners. What does that even mean, Mother? Mod sighs. You went from saying,

I was beautiful to comparing me to a pig. Am I the pig in your messed up metaphor? Do you feel like a pig, my dear? No! I do not feel like a pig. Maude's face is red with rage. And set that phone aside! I am tired of waiting for it to drop!

This phone? Mod's mother shakes the phone. Maude flinches. Mother, stop it! Mother shakes the phone a few more times, then smiles down at Maude. Very well. The phone disappears, and Mother's hand reappears, empty.

How is that? Does that make you happy? Because all I do is live to make you happy. Somehow I doubt that. Mother's face disappears. Mother? Hold on, my dear. I'll be right back.

Be right back? Where are you going? Somewhere. Mod lies there and waits. Like every night, her shoulders burn. and her upper arms have started to shake. Under the bed, her right leg is asleep, and her left leg alternates between pins and needles

and just fiery hot needles. The phone cord around her ankles has split skin, and Maude can feel blood pulling under her heels. Mother? There is no answer. Mother! Stop this! Still no answer. What does father think of all this?

While the silence remains, attention builds in the room. Maude presses on. Have you talked to him? Do you ever talk to him? There is no point in talking to your father. You know that. So you haven't tried? I did not say that. I try every night. There is simply no point with that man.

Maude tries to find the location of her mother's voice. She looks to her left, towards the chest of drawers, and then to her right towards the wall. If you have tried, what has he said? Does he have an opinion? on any of this? Your father is a quiet man. He keeps his opinions to himself. You know that.

But that's the problem. He's so quiet. None of us know what he's thinking. None of us ever did. What's to know? You are his children. That doesn't mean anything. It means he loves you

and has loved you the moment you were born. He has a funny way of showing it. Oh, you and your generation always needing to have everything spelled out for you. What would you have him do, Maude? Paint a sign on the barn saying you are his favorite? What? No, I don't think I'm his favorite. Don't you? You're the first born, the oldest child, daddy's girl. You knew him before Orsa or Ashley or Cooper. I've barely known him much longer. We were married so young and so fast. When I say that you are his favorite, then I mean it. I'm his favorite?

He actually said that? No, of course not, you fool. Your father would never admit to anything so personal. And I was just joshing with you anyway. Your father doesn't have a favorite child, because he hates all of you equally. I knew it, Maude says. She goes to clap her hands together,

then screams as the tension pulls the cord around her ankles even tighter, slicing past skin and into muscle. Oh, poor dear, her mother says as she slides back into view. Her head and shoulders sticking out from the top of the bed. Maybe this should all come to an end. That's what I have been saying. I know Orsa wants it to end, and I am sure Ashley does too.

Mod shouts. I don't know about Cooper, but you know we're right. This has to stop, Mother. Her mother only stares down at her. Mother? Then she sees the look in her mother's eye. No, hold on. Wait! Mother! Wait!

The telephone reappears in Mother's hand. It is lifted up high. Then brought down hard. Maude screams and screams until her face is pulverized and so much blood and bone are shoved down her throat from the relentless feeding. All she can do is gasp and choke and cough up bits of herself. Then there is one last sickening crack, and Maude goes still. Mother shakes some of her daughter off the bottom of the phone and sets it on the bed spread.

Then she looks down and watches a single bubble of blood at the corner of Maude's mouth slowly fill with air, then burst. Picture this. It's late at night. You're scrolling, and suddenly you find exactly what you've been looking for. You add it to your cart, maybe browse a little more than head to checkout, only to realize you don't have your wallet. But then you see it, that purple shop pay button, and just like that, you're done in seconds. That's the power of Shopify.

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father doesn't have an issue with his memory. He knows exactly what happened that night so many, many decades ago. And as he sits in his leather chair, pulled up close to the radio so he can hear his mysteries without being interrupted by the never-ending chatter of his useless progeny, He realizes he's not alone in the living room any longer. Mother, he says. Are the children all sorted out? There's no reply. If he were up to me, I'd do away with all of this nonsense.

Let it all go. The creek of a floorboard. Ain't no reason for all of us to still be here. Another creek, a clatter by the fireplace. What's done is done. What's past is past. Quiet, careful footsteps. Mother?

Don't you agree that it's about time to end this foolishness? A snort, a laugh. Foolishness? I suppose a stupid, awful fool like you would know. Oh? What makes me a fool? They're static on the radio, and Father reaches out to adjust the dial. With a slight turn clockwise on the tuning knob,

the static ends, and the constant, barely audible voices continue. Do you hear them? Father asks. They say nothing, but if you listen closely, they reveal the secrets to everything. All the mysteries. And that is what makes you a fool! Father whips his head around

and sees Mother standing there with a fire poker gripped in one hand. What will you do with that, mother? Father asks, a smile on his lips. Can it teach me a lesson? I should have taught you a lesson all those years ago. Then I wouldn't have to deal with this back talk. Nothing but sass.

Yes, sass. You gave that sass to your daughter. making them ungrateful burdens on this family. Ungrateful burdens, these ungrateful burdens are the family, you fool. Without them there is no family. We'd still have the boy. Cooper? Dear Lord, father. He's a few bricks shy of a full outhouse. Oh, he's stupid all right, but he does what he's told.

Well, until he doesn't. And I swear, that boy chooses the most inconvenient times to be obstinate. Just poor timing on his part. I blame him for what happened. Of course you do. And it was poor timing on my part too, since we're talking about it. If I'd been paying attention, that handsome, stupid boy would have never been more than a glint in your eye. But I had my timing off, and nine months later, we have a fourth mouth to feed.

So, mother, it is your fault. My fault! She laughs. Oh, how I wish what I'd said to Maud was true. What lies are you telling our daughter? her now. That you are a quiet man, that you keep your emotions to yourself when we speak. When he doesn't respond, she sighs. I suppose we should get to it. Play our parts. She sighs again, and in an exaggerated voice, she asks. What's that you have in your hands, Father?

Father cocks his head and wonders about what he's holding. Then he looks at his hands. Oh, it's my father's arm Remington. Twelve-gauge. Pump action. Beautiful gun. But why are you holding it? Why? Because it needs cleaning. It does? Have you been firing it lately? Father growls. You know I have.

Every night? Every night. Do you think you can set that gun aside and not fire it tonight? Father stares at the shotgun. It's possible. Then I am going to reach over your shoulder and take that from you, and you are going to let me. Father turns and stares at Mother.

He sneers at the fire poker in her hands. What's that for? In case you decide to get cute. You mean in case I try to blow your head off instead of mine? Yes, but for tonight... Father places the barrel of the shotgun under his chin and squeezes the trigger. Mother's face, neck, and shoulders are coated in Father's cranium and all that had been held inside it. You son of it.

a bitch! Every damn night! Father drips off of mother. Mother watches, separate from the family at the dining table, separate from herself, separate from her fate. Although, she can never be that, separate from her fate. Now, just like tonight and every night, she is forced to watch that fate play out. She doesn't know why it's like this, but it is. She stands in the corner, more shadow than anything, and waits for it all to unfold. I don't think I will go to college, Cooper says. I'd rather take all that money and get me a real nice car. All of what money?

The past version of mother at the table asks, as she scoop smashed potatoes under her plate. My college money you saved for me. The past mother glances at the past father, but he doesn't glance back. His lips are pressed tightly together, and his eyes are on his son. Well, we'll have to see about that, the past mother says. That money was for college, not for hot rods. I wouldn't buy a hot rod. No, I'm thinking of a sweet Cadillac convertible, Cherry Red. They don't make them in Cherry Red, Ashley says and tosses a pee at Cooper. They do so? No, they don't. Cadillacs come in Matador Red. Close enough. Yes, well,

we'll see. The past mother says. She takes a bite of potatoes, chews, swallows, and asks. Orsa, have you looked into that culinary school yet? Father snorts, and Orsa glances in his direction. His eyes are on her now. I have looked, yes, but I don't think it's for me. Oh, why not? The past mother asks.

You're a wonderful cook, and it's not just men in the world's best kitchens these days. Orsa shoots another glance at her father. It's expensive, she says. I can save up, but it'll take a while. That's how I know I'm the favorite, Cooper says. They already have a fund all for me. You are not the favorite, Ashley says. Then why do I have a college fund?

And you and Orsa and Maude don't. Neither do you, idiot, Maude says. Bullpucky! Mother told me about it years ago. Father spent it all, didn't you, Father? Maude turns her smug face toward the end of the table. Her father is glaring at her. It was when that balloon payment was due, wasn't it? Took it all and gave it to the bank, right?

Mod, stop, past mother says. That's not true, Cooper argues. There's about five grand sitting in the bank in an account with my name on it. He looks to the past mother. Right, mother? That money is mine. It's for me. It was for you, Cooper. The past mother replies.

But times have been difficult. Sometimes we have to come together as a family and make sacrifices. Bothers snorts again and mumbles. Sacrifices. The past mother studies his face and swallows hard. Maybe we should talk about something else. The past mother says and stands up. Let me have your plates.

I'm still eating. Cooper complains. You're always eating. Ashley says. That's what growing boys do. Right, Mother? That's right, my sweet, sweet boy.

Now give me your plate, and I'll bring in the pie. Okay, but I get an extra slice, because I didn't get seconds for supper. No, you get one piece like the rest of us, Ashley says. Father likes a slice for breakfast, Orsa says. As do I? Mod says. Why do you get a second slice and I don't? Cooper asks.

Because I'm the first born, that's why. says and sticks out her tongue. Firstborn who should have gotten married and moved out by now, Cooper responds. Times are hard like mother said. The shadow mother in the corner hangs her head, so tired of it all. She knows what's coming and wishes it wasn't. She knows that in the next few seconds, the family's fate is decided. Just like it has been decided every night, over and over, for going on 80 years.

The children banter and bicker and complain as the past mother clears the table. The past father watches his children, observing each one individually for several minutes before moving on and doing the same with the rest. Here we go! The past mother announces, setting a pie in the middle of the table. Orsa, will you fetch forks and plates? What is that? Cooper says. Bye.

The past mother says. I can see that. But what kind of pie? Strawberry rhubarb. What? You said this morning you were making a peach pie. Calm down, Cooper, Ashley says. It's just pie.

Here are plates. Orsa says, setting down six plates on the table. I don't need one. I'm not eating strawberry rhubarb. Cooper snaps. Fine. I'll take it back. Orsa says and snatches up a plate.

We're short on forks, so I have to wash some quickly anyway. As Orsa leaves, Ashley stands up and leans over the pie. Smells delicious. You sure you won't have a slice, Cooper? I was told there'd be peach pie, so I want peach pie. There's strawberry rhubarb. Then I don't want pie. You're so spoiled, Maude says.

Father snorts, and all heads turn his way. Forks! Orsa announces and drops them onto the table by the plates. I'll dish. The past mother says, and she fills five plates with hefty. slices of pie. Then she looks at Cooper. Are you sure, son? Oh, I'm sure. She sits down and digs into her slice. This is great, mother, Ashley says. The phone rings from upstairs. Oh, I should get that. Maude says, shoving a fork full of pie into her mouth. Kelly said she'd call.

Maude leaves the dining room. Her father watches her go. He looks down at his slice of pie, picks at it with his fork, then eats it up in four bites. He belches and stands up. Going to listen to your mysteries, father? The past mother asks. Yes. The shadow mother knows he's lying. In a way, everyone that night, deep down, knew he was lying.

I think I'll ask Lori Walker to prom this year, Cooper says. Lori Walker? She'd never go to prom with you. Ashley says. Yes, you will. Laurie's into me. She likes Matt Trier. No, she doesn't.

She's never around him at all. But she's always finding excuses to be with me. That's called having the same school schedule, fool. Oh, hey, honey. What are you doing there? The past mother asks, as the past father walks into the dining room with the Remington in his hands. Uh, why do you have...

Her words are lost to the shotgun blast, as the father places it against the back of Cooper's chair and squeezes the trigger. Ashley screams and gets up to run. The father tries to lift the shotgun and fire at her, but the barrel is stuck in the back of the chair. So he drops the shotgun and reaches across the table, grabbing the knife from the pie tin.

The past mother only stares at her dead son as the body slumps over in the chair. What is happening? Orsa shouts from the kitchen doorway. Then her screaming joins Ashley's, and the two grab at each other then retreat back into the kitchen. The past father lurches around the dining table

and chases after his daughters. Come back here! The past mother stares at the dining table. Cooper? She whispers. The past mother stands on shaking legs and goes around the table until she's standing behind her son.

Cooper? Wake up! Ashley's shriek from the kitchen nearly shakes the walls. Orsa is crying, shouting for her father to stop. Then there's a thunk, and Orsa's voice goes silent.

What's going on down there? Mod shouts from the upstairs landing. I'm on the phone! The past month. The mother touches the back of her dead son's head. It's fine, she says, then clears her throat. It's fine. The past father's heavy footsteps on the stairs echoed through the house.

Father, what is all over you? What's going on? The past mother closes her eyes and waits. Father? Is that? Is that blood? There's a gasp and a thud. The past mother is frozen in place. It'll be fine, my dear. Mod screams and a door slams, followed immediately by the sound. of splintering wood. A scream, a thud, a clang like a bell. A thud, a scream, a clang, a clang, a clang! No more screaming. A thunk, and then footsteps. The past mother looks up at the ceiling

and follows the footsteps. Then she waits. All sorted out, the past father says as he comes back into the dining room. His shirt and pants coated in blood. Move woman. He shoves the past mother out of the way and finally wrestles the shotgun out of the chair. It comes away with Cooper's blood and flesh dripping off the end of the barrel. My mysteries are on, the past father says and heads for the living room, leaving the past mother alone with dead Cooper once more. A high-pitched wine tells the mother that the radio has been turned on. Your father loves his mysteries, the past mother says, just before a shotgun blast echoes from the living room. How do we do it? The shadow mother asks as it steps out of the corner.

The past mother shakes her head. I don't know. The shadow mother moves close to the past mother as the woman strokes Cooper's head. They hate us, the shadow mother says. They do? Why? They think we could have stopped this all. Us? Stop him? They only have blame, not answers.

Of course. They've turned you into a monster. They have? They play out scenarios. where you are the killer. Me? Why? They're lazy and spoiled.

They are that. The past mother looks at the shadow. Who are you? I'm you. The soul that split from the ghost. Split from the ghost? What does that mean? You'll see.

I will? Well, in a way, yes. The past mother frowns down at the top of Cooper's head. So what now? Now we come back together and finish your part of this drama. The shadow mother moves quickly and slides inside the past mother. The woman's body shivers. Then she tries to smile.

But she doesn't have many of those left. So the corners of her mouth only twitch at the sensations she feels. Oh, I always forget how it all feels. Mother says. Every night the same thing, yet I forget. She pats Cooper's shoulders. Time to get to work. The mother struggles a bit.

but manages to get Cooper's body out of the chair. She drags him into the kitchen, then opens the basement door. She keeps her eyes averted from the bodies on the kitchen floor. There's no easy way to do it. Some mother shoves Cooper's body down the stairs, letting gravity do the work. She follows quickly, drags him to the furnace, then finds the chains and manacles father had kept in a corner box. Mother shudders at the thought of why father even has a set of manacles. A strong strapping lad like Cooper has to be secured as best as possible, so his soul can't get away. Nope.

Mother needs to keep the children close. Back in the kitchen, Mother finds Ashley with her guts filling her hands. She grabs her daughter's ankles and pulls her into the pantry. Stay put now, she says and closes the pantry door. Mother will be back later. Orsa is on the floor, face down, the pie knife between her shoulder blades. Mother isn't sure how she'll make Orsa stay. Tired to a kitchen chair maybe?

She'll figure it out later. Orsa isn't the one to worry about. Mother hurries out of the kitchen and upstairs. She sees the splintered bedroom door. Maude's bedroom door. What mother finds inside is almost too much. Almost. But a mother can handle a lot.

Keeping her eyes averted for Maude's lack of face, Mother ties her daughter's corpse to the bed with the telephone cord. She refuses to look at the actual telephone, and the hair and blood and bone caked to the bottom of it. With an idea in mind, Mothers is back in the kitchen and is lifting Orsa up. She drapes her daughter's top half over the sink and holds her there until the body's weight shifts forward and holds her in place. The knife her father put between her shoulder blades bibles and waves and goes still. Mother believes that Orsa's love for the kitchen will keep her put. After all, Orsa does the dishes.

With Orsa settled, Mother looks out the window at the twilight of an approaching dawn, knowing she has one more place to go. When she walks out of the kitchen's back door, down the steps, and over to the old oak tree, mother is not surprised to see the tire swing gone, and the noose already nodded, waiting for her, as it hangs above a small step ladder. Mother climbs the short ladder until she's level with the noose, then she slips it over her head, kicks the ladder away, and that's her body drop. It's a short drop, so her neck doesn't snap, which means it's a slow, painful death.

Mother believes she deserves nothing less. When her gasping ends and her blue-blooded face goes slack, the Shadow Mother slides free from the corpse. Time to go! the shadow mother says. The past mother's eyes blink, and then she drops free of the noose. A noose that disappears the instant her ghost feet touched dead grass, replaced by the old tire swing once again. They hate me?

The past mother asks. Maybe hate is too strong of a word. But all I want to do is keep this family together. They're kids. They're ready to move on. But what happens if we move on? The shadow mother shrugs. They don't realize that I'm protecting them.

One day they might. Why does it take so long for children to understand? That's the perpetual question of motherhood, right? The two mothers smile at each other, then past mother turns and walks back to the house, ready to keep her family together forever, one night at a time.