Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - Cold Feet Warm Blood | Part 1

Episode Date: December 21, 2022

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I had to get out of this house. To get help. I had my phone in my pants pocket, but there was no service here. I was barefoot, wearing only jeans and an undershirt. And there was a blizzard outside. I stood in the middle of the staircase,

the words I'd just heard echoing through my head. They were whispering in the kitchen, talking about me. How did I let it get this far? How did I not know something was wrong? Ahead of me, about 20 feet away, was the front door. Quickly scanning the coats on the rack next to the door, I spotted one that would likely fit, and I saw a pair of boots that were about my size.

It was my only chance. Otherwise, I would die. I imagined the movement, rehearsing it in my mind. Get to the coat in boots as quietly and quickly as possible. Get them on. Get out. Run. I stepped down one more stare, but in my haste, I hadn't tested the step first.

It creaked under my weight. I froze. Oh no. I held my breath and listened. Someone was coming. I lunged off the step, racing toward the coat rack and the shoes underneath. From the kitchen, a woman's raspy voice yelled, Stop him!

Her drawn face was flanked by curtains of stringy grayish hair. Her teeth were yellow, although straight. as she smiled at me. Welcome to your home, Dylan, she said. There was a man behind her, standing near the staircase. He was concealed in a shadow, but I could tell that he was tall, and he had shaggy white hair. hunched over. He murmured something that I couldn't make out.

Thank you, Mrs. Lynch, I said, trying not to stare at the man in the shadows. I glanced to my right at Jerry, but he'd turned toward the crowded coat rack and was busy hanging his black and blue coat. Please, call me Lilith, she said, leaning slightly toward me. Her bony hands clasped in front of her. Her eyes dragged slowly down

and then back up my body. I nodded politely, suddenly feeling like I wanted to be anywhere but here. Then I remembered the bags. Oh, I said, turning to Jerry. I can go get the bags while I still have my coat on.

Jerry flapped a hand. Don't worry. about it. I'll get them later. Jerry was my roommate at Indiana State. He stood about six inches shorter than me, with black hair, pale skin, and a rodent-like face. It was our freshman year, and we'd only known each other for a few months, but he seemed nice enough, a bit quiet, but then so was I. I looked around the entryway of the ancient farmhouse as I removed my coat. To the right was the dining room. An old handcrafted dining set stood on the shelf.

Dusty paintings lined the walls. Embroideries about home, love, and warmth that seemed out of place were everywhere. On top of the dining room table, incandescent light bulbs lit up a deer antler chandelier. From where I was, I could see a slice of the kitchen through the dining room. I could see formica countertops and a dishwasher that was made sometime in the middle of the last century. I hung my coat up and stepped toward the edge of the large entryway mat. Ah, I'm sorry, Dylan, Lilith said, holding one slender hand up like a traffic cop. If you could please remove your shoes. I looked down at my feet, then at Jerry's. He was still

wearing his boots. Lilith had on a pair of worn tennis shoes under her paisley patterned dress. Even the silent, hunched man under the stairs, Dylan's father, I assumed, had on boots. Uh, okay, I said, unwilling to raise a fuss. It was their house, after all. I was just a guest. As I untied my shoes, the man came out from the dark area abutting the stairs. He peered over Lilith's shoulder with watery eyes. His skin sagged off his face, jowls, wiggling slightly as he moved. He wore brown work pants and a maroon and red flannel shirt. Slice and dice, he said in a gravelly voice. Christ and rise.

I looked up at him. His gray eyes met mine and held them until I looked away. Seeking some explanation, I glanced up at Jerry. But my friend just looked down at me blankly, as if waiting for me to take off my shoes. so he could show me around. Oh, I'm sorry, Dylan, Lilith said suddenly. This is Jerry's father, Glenn.

I'm afraid he's not having one of his best days. Don't mind him. Oh, I said. Right. Sorry. Don't be sorry, dear. Did Jerry not tell you about him? I shook my head.

Lilith glared at her son, who seemed to realize we were talking about him. What? Jerry said. It's just dad. It's not like he'd do much talking, even if his brain wasn't mush. You stop that right now, Lilith said. Her tone's serious.

Slice and diced. Glenn said again, still staring at me. His gaze seemed to hungry. I pulled off both my shoes and quickly straightened. Okay, how about a tour, Jerry? I asked, wanting to get away from the old man's gaze. Yeah, follow me. We'll start upstairs.

I followed Jerry up the two short flights of creaky wooden stairs, and I glanced over the railing, back toward his mother and father as I went. Lilith was holding her husband's hand, whispering in his ear. Glenn had turned and was watching me go up the stairs. I suppressed a shiver. This is my room, Jerry said, opening the first door on the right. There was a single bed, an old wooden desk, and an array of books, magazines, and CDs.

I wondered where the television and video game consoles were. It looked like a room from a bygone era, before the internet and cell phones and endless entertainment at your fingertips. He stood in the middle of the room, looking around silently. So, what is it? I asked finally. Dementia?

What? Jerry said, turning around. Your father? Oh, no, don't worry about him. He has his bad days. Let me show you where you'll be sleeping. The floor creaked with every step as we moved across the hall. It was drafty, and my feet were freezing, even with my socks on.

I wondered why they'd made me take my shoes off. Jerry was still wearing his. He opened a creaky door and stepped into a dim room. There was a twin air mattress on the floor with a sleeping bag and pillow on top. top. The single window in the room looked out at the dark bulk of a barn, hunching against the wind-swept night. Next to the bed on the wood floor was a single lamp. There was no furniture in the room. A small door in the wall opposite the bed surely belonged to a closet. By the looks of the rest of the room, I doubted there was anything in it. My mom made it up for you,

he said. Thanks, I managed. Bathrooms down the hall, Jerry said, pointing. Dinner will be in a few minutes. Why don't you wash up? I'll go get the bags. I nodded and walked down the hall to the door Jerry had indicated. It was closed, like all the rest of the doors. I knocked lightly and then opened the doors as Jerry went downstairs. As I stepped into the bathroom, I felt a cold wetness soak into my socks.

I looked down at the black and white tiled floor. I was standing in a small puddle of water. I'd always been kind of a nervous kid, and things hadn't gotten much better as I finished high school. The few times I'd spent the night over at a friend's house as a kid had always ended with me calling my parents in tears. I couldn't ever seem to get past the strangeness of other people's houses. And there had always been something that scared me enough to make me want to go home.

Usually, it was nothing more than the house settling or someone else moving around at night while I was trying to sleep. But my imagination had a tendency to run wild, reinforcing the home sickness and putting me over the edge. Moving into the college dorm had been a feat by my standards, and coming to spend the holiday weekend at Jerry's house was a huge step for me. But I was starting to feel the familiar tinge of unease. that had gripped me on every other sleepover. And as I stood in the puddle of water,

my socks wet and feet cold, I felt my composure cracking. The house was anything but warm, not only in terms of temperature, but also in terms of emotion. The place didn't seem like a cozy house that a loving family lived in. It seemed like a building that people occupied,

nothing more. On the few road trips I'd taken in my life, I'd passed many farmhouses similar to this one. From the car, they'd always seemed so snug, their windows glowing orange with comfort against the cold night. I would picture what life was like for the people in those homes. They struck me as warm little pockets, their walls keeping out the cold winter nights.

This house was just the opposite. It seemed to be a reflection of the cold, desolate night outside. As if the inhabitants of the house, Jerry's family, couldn't muster the energy to keep the coldness out. They let it seep in. Lazzang sur-goled, puissance-molyne, for 15 minutes. We're saying that's their dojo.

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The Reglements of Concour Maybe they liked it this way. Maybe they thrived in it. Suddenly, all I wanted to do was leave. But I couldn't leave. It was out of the question. My own home was several hours away on the other side of the state. And I hadn't driven. I didn't have a car. Jerry did. To leave, I would have to beg him to drive me the four hours home. Or I'd have to ask my mom or dad to come get me. I couldn't do it. I wouldn't let myself. As I looked into the mirror, seeing my painfully plain face and my dull brown eyes, I told myself I was being a baby. But sooner or later, I'd have to toughen up. I couldn't go running home to mommy and daddy every time I felt

uncomfortable. Stop being a little bitch, I whispered at my reflection. I heard someone coming up the stairs, so I turned and shut the bathroom door. Then I peeled my wet socks off and found a scratchy towel from the cabinet to soak the puddle up. I couldn't tell where the water had come from. There didn't seem to be a leak from the toilet or sink, so I assumed someone had accidentally splashed it out of the sink, probably Jerry's dad. I hung the towel over the shower curtain rod, used the toilet, and washed my hands. I didn't want to leave my wet socks hanging in the bathroom, but I didn't see an alternative. I draped them over the rod next to the towel. While using the toilet, I'd heard whoever had come upstairs go back down. I figured it was Jerry, dropping our

bags off. But when I left the bathroom and looked into my room, there were no bags. I moved across to Jerry's door, which was closed, and knocked lightly. When I didn't hear him answer, I tried the knob. It was locked. further inspection, I noticed that the knob had a key slot. It could be locked from the outside. Moving back across the hall, I inspected the door to my room. There was no lock. Not on the outside, not on the inside. By the time I got back downstairs, my feet felt numb with the cold. There was no carpet in the whole house, it seemed. There were baseboard heaters, but it didn't feel like they were on. Maybe they didn't work at all.

turning into the dining room I nearly collided with Lilith oh I was just going to call you down she said it's dinner time there were a few dishes on the table surrounded by four place settings Jerry and Glenn were both sitting down already staring up at me Jerry did you bring my bag in I asked him oh shoot I knew I was forgetting something he said I'll do it first thing after dinner well it's It's just that my socks got wet, and I... Your socks got wet? Lilith exclaimed, looking down at my bare feet.

Bring them down after dinner, and I'll dry them. But we need to eat quickly before the food gets cold. This is a drafty house, you know. She corralled me to the seat across from Jerry, then took her place across from her husband. As I sat down, I caught a whiff of the food. It smelled awful. It was some kind of pink and white meat dish that I didn't recognize.

along with steamed green beans and mashed potatoes. I assumed it was the meat dish that reeked. My stomach roiled, and I wasn't sure that I could eat it without vomiting. After a moment of looking down at the food, I realized that no one was serving themselves yet. I looked up to see all three pairs of eyes looking at me. This may sound strange to you, Lilith said, but we like to say a little something before we eat.

That's not strange, I said. Go ahead. Well, that's the thing, she said. It's important to us that our guests join along. We use the old tongue, and it makes some people uncomfortable. Oh, I said, not sure what to make of this. I looked over at Jerry, and he rolled his eyes, smiling. Do you mind?

Lilith asked. No, I guess not. What do you want me to say? Erlath Urkbart, Thulium Saluodi. She said. It means bless this nourishment. Glenn will say a few words, then me, and then Jerry. Then we'll all say Erlath Urkbart Thulium Saluoti.

Okay? Sure, I guess, I said. Can you repeat it back to me? She asked. Erlath, Urkbart, Thulium, Saluoti. Very good. I smiled at it. and turned my head to look at Glenn. I had my doubts about his ability to say anything coherent,

but when I looked at him, he smiled at me and reached a hand out. He clasped my right hand in his left. Lilith took my other one. It struck me how cold their hands were. When the circle was complete, Glenn closed his eyes. He spoke maybe a dozen words in a language I didn't understand. Then Lilith spoke different words, and Jerry said his part, which, as far as I can tell, was completely different from what his mother and father said. They opened their eyes and looked at me, and we all said, Erloth, Urqubart, Thulium, Saluode, at the same time. Right as I finished the words, I felt a frigid gust of wind sweep over me.

For a moment, I thought the front door had blown open. I freed my hands and hugged myself. Did anyone else feel that? I asked. Feel what, Dylan? Lilith asked. Just as soon as it had come, the chill was gone. I could tell by listening that the tenor of the wind hadn't changed. No door was open.

When I didn't answer, Lilith smiled her ghastly smile and said, Thank you for doing that. It means a lot to us. Not everyone is so accepting, you know. Sure, I said. You're welcome. Lilith stood and stepped toward me, grabbing the meat dish and spooning some of the foul-smelling food under my plate.

Say when? She said. That's enough. Thank you. I said. She did the same with the green beans and mashed potatoes. Dig in. I ate the green beans and mashed potatoes, but stayed away from the meat dish.

Lilith glanced at my plate several times before I worked up the courage to taste the dish. I didn't want to offend her by not eating any of it. My parents had raised me better than that. With a small bite of the stuff on my fork, I brought it tentatively to my mouth. Holding my breath, I took the plunge and nearly gagged. It was putrid and cold. It tasted raw and gaming. Swallowing with effort, I did my best to keep my composure.

Then I set my fork down and took a drink of my water, trying to wash the taste out of my mouth. I looked at Jerry's plate and saw that he'd eaten his portion of the stuff. Same with Lilith and Glenn. Then I looked at the casserole dish it had come in, noticing that the food had been disturbed in two different places. The side closest to Glenn was missing a large portion, but on the opposite side, closest to Lilith,

there was only one small scoop taken out about the size of my serving. I tried to remember which side she'd served me from, but I hadn't been paying that much attention. If she had served me from that side, why would she then serve everyone else from the other side? Is that all you're going to eat? Leleth asked. Yes, ma'am, I said.

I'm stuffed. It was very good. Thank you. Hey, you ever played Chirama? Jerry asked, pushing away from the table. No, what's that? I said, happy to be off the subject of food. Follow me, Jerry said, standing up and heading around the table.

Thanks for dinner, Mom. Yes, thank you, I said, standing up to follow Jerry. We went across the entryway hall and threw a sitting room to a door. Jerry opened it and started down a set of concrete stairs into an unfinished basement. I stepped onto the first stair and stopped. Stop being a little bitch, I thought. Stand up for yourself. Hey, Jerry.

I said. My feet are really cold. I need to get some socks on. Can we get my bag first? Jerry turned, already near the bottom of the stairs. There are all sorts of old clothes down here. I'm sure there are some thick wool socks, maybe even some slippers. Without waiting for a response from me,

he turned and disappeared into the dark basement. After a long moment, a light came on, allowing me to see the concrete floor and the insulation between exposed. wall studs. Sying, I made my way down the steps, turning in time to see Jerry disappear behind a metal shelf loaded with odds and ends. Normal basement stuff cluttered the space, although there was one area near a wall that was cleared. There was a blue tarp on the ground and a water bottle hanging from the ceiling on a string. I looked around for a few minutes as Jerry rummaged through boxes, presumably looking for socks.

What is this game you're talking about? I asked, wandering over toward the tarp and the water bottle. Chirama, it's really funny. You'll like it. As I stepped onto the tarp to look at the plastic water bottle, I could feel that the ground wasn't smooth like the rest of the basement. Taking a step back, I bent over and grabbed the edge of the tarp, lifting it and looking underneath. There was some kind of design.

Sorry, no socks, Jerry said from right next to me. I jumped, letting go of the tart and letting it fall back to the floor. A sudden flush of anger made me want to shove Jerry to punish him for sneaking up on me. Stop being a little bitch. Okay, I said, my heart thumping. Well, I'm going to go back upstairs and get my bag so I can put on some socks. Let's just play one round of Chirama, Jerry pleaded. It'll take five minutes, Max.

No, I snapped. My feet are freezing. Your house is frigid. But you don't know, do you? You're wearing shoes. Everyone is wearing shoes, but me. Jerry and I stared at each other as a long moment passed. My anger fizzled away.

Overcome with embarrassment at my harsh tone. I turned to leave, to head upstairs. But Jerry reached out and grabbed my arm. You're going to play the fucking game with me. because it's my fucking house and you're a fucking pushover." Jerry said in a deep, slithery voice that I had never heard before. I was shaking as my emotions bubbled up to the surface. I was having a hard time processing what Jerry had just said to me.

You're right, I said, averting my eyes. I'm sorry. I'll play the game with you. Good. Jerry said, smiling and talking in his regular voice. He let go of my arm and explained the game he called Chirama. Really, it was just the water bottle dodging game that was so popular on the internet. As far as I was concerned, he could call it whatever he wanted. I was just ready to

get it over with so I could get my feet warm again. I sat on the tarp and put on a blindfold that Jerry had produced from a pocket. He pulled the water bottle back and told me when he was releasing it so I could try to dodge it. The first round, I got hit in the back of the head pretty quickly. The second round, I did a little better before getting hit in the face. I asked to stop, but Jerry said one more round. I waited for him to tell me when he was going to drop the bottle, but there was only silence for several long moments. Then I felt a sudden wetness on my head.

I reached up and ripped off the blindfold, seeing Jerry standing over me chuckling. He had a little metal vial in his right hand. He held the water bottle, still attached to the string, under his right arm. What the hell is that? I said, reaching up to touch my wet hair. Oh, relax, Dylan.

It's just water. It doesn't feel like water. Is this your idea of a joke? I got up from the tarp and the uncomfortable ground underneath. Jerry stared at me for a moment as he let the water bottle out from under his arm. It swung gently on its string. I wanted to smack him, but I didn't. Instead, I turned to head upstairs.

Don't be such a little bitch, Jerry said. I spun around and shoved him, sending him tripping backward. He dropped the vial as he fell back into the cardboard box, collapsing the top with his weight. He was quickly back up again. He lunged at me, shoving me down. I landed hard on my back, sucking in a couple of harsh breaths while I considered my next move. I glared up at Jerry, who was standing over me, a sneer on his face. Fuck you, Dylan!

Jerry said. Little bitch! He turned and stalked toward the stairs, yanking the pull cord on the single light, leaving me in total darkness as he went upstairs. I sat for a long time, shivering from the cold and the adrenaline. I felt like crying, like curling into a little ball and sobbing. Somehow, I felt like the whole thing was my fault. I wanted to run upstairs and say sorry to Jerry, to beg him to forgive me,

or to punch his lights out and shove some of that foul smell. meadish into his face and down his throat. But I knew I wouldn't do any of those things. After a while, I pulled myself together, gathering the nerve to go back upstairs and get my stuff out of the car so I could change. Whatever weird liquid he'd poured on me had got on my shirt. I got up and made my way back upstairs, my hair still dripping. When I walked through the sitting room, I was surprised to find the whole first floor of the house dark and silent. I didn't think I'd been downstairs for long. Ten minutes, maybe 15.

But there was no Lilith doing cleanup, no Glenn sitting by the fire, talking nonsense. I went over to the entryway and looked at the small table that was there. I thought Jerry had put his keys on the table earlier, but they weren't there. I looked at my shoes and my coat. Maybe the car's unlocked, I thought.

So I pulled on my shoes and my coat and stepped outside into the freezing. night. Snow flurry stung my face as I walked out to the gravel driveway. There wasn't much snow on the ground, but the way the wind was blowing, I thought a storm was rolling in, a blizzard, maybe. I tried all the doors on Jerry's car, but they were all locked. So I trudged back inside. Without taking off my shoes or coat, I went up the creaky staircase. Jerry's door was closed, So I stepped up to it and knocked. There was no answer.

Jerry, I said. I need to get my stuff. Nothing, no answer. Come on, man. This is ridiculous. Just let me get my stuff and you can ignore me for the rest of the weekend. Silence. I took a deep breath.

Okay, listen. I'm sorry. I apologize for losing my temper, okay? There wasn't so much as a grunt of a shuffling footstle. step from the other side of the door, I said, lowering my voice, fuck you. I stepped away from Jerry's door and looked down the hall. The other doors were closed. There was no light coming from under them. I wondered what time it was. So I pulled out my phone and saw that it was just after eight, pretty early for everyone to be in bed. Then I noticed

that I didn't have any service. You've got to be kidding me, I said. I moved into my room and shut the door behind me. Someone had turned off the lamp on the floor next to the air mattress. So I used my phone's flashlight to light the way as I turned it on. I stripped off my coat, shoes, and my wet overshirt. Then got into the sleeping bag. That feeling of homesickness suddenly swarmed me. It was as if the night had expanded away from me,

erasing the world and leaving me all alone in this house in the middle of nowhere, opening my phone. I navigated to a photo album and scrolled through the pictures of my parents from the vacation we'd gone on before I left for school. There were several of us on the beach. A few others were taken by me from the backseat of the rental car as we joked and laughed. Trying to hold these good times in my head, I set my phone down on the floor and closed my eyes. I just had to get through this long weekend. Then everything would be okay. compared to this place, my dorm room seemed almost like home. And I was sure Jerry and I would patch things up.

People fought sometimes, I knew. But that didn't mean they hated each other. Drowsiness crept up on me, and eventually, sleep took me. Something dripped on me, on my face. I was back in the basement again, on the tarp with a blindfold on, and Jerry was pouring something on me again. but moving seemed impossible. I tried to raise my hands to take the blindfold off,

but they were too heavy, as if they were coated in concrete. I tried to speak, to tell them to stop, but the words didn't want to come out of my mouth. They got stuck in my throat. Something dripped into my mouth, coppery and warm. My eyes shot open, and I looked up to see that I was still on the upstairs bedroom.

Glenn was leaning over me, a hunched silhouette backlit by the hallway light. Slice and dice. He said, Erlath, Urkbart, Thulium, Saluodi.