Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - Have you heard the story of...

Episode Date: August 12, 2022

🎧 Be sure to check out my true crime podcast titled Crimehub on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, or Amazon Music. 🎉 Ad-free episodes + bonus episodes: https://www.patreon.com/drnosleep 🎥 YouTube:��https://youtube.com/c/DrNoSleep ✅ Send all advertising inquiries to: [e-mail] Author: Travis Brown Check out his Reddit page here: https://www.reddit.com/user/Grand_Theft_Motto/ DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content. Parental guidance is advised for children under the age of 18. Listen at your own discretion. #drnosleep #scarystories #horrorstories #doctornosleep #truescarystories #horrorpodcast #horror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

It's something else here now. Something new. From. Exclusively on Paramount Plus. It's the series Stephen King calls scary as hell. Everything here is impossible, but it's also real. Sci-fi Vision calls it the best show streaming right now. We're running out of time and we still don't know the rules.

Don't miss what the movie blog calls something you need to watch. Saving those children is how we all go home. From binge all episodes exclusively on Paramount Plus. Thank you to my new patrons, Abdriel, Veronica, and David. If you'd like to also support the podcast and receive access to exclusive content, check out the Patreon link in the description below. Now back to the story. I was running late, and it was my turn to tell a story.

That made it worse. It was cold for October, and would get even colder after the sun finished setting. Falling leaves kept whipping around my bike, occasionally hitting me in the face. I almost ate a few. Halfway to the spot, I stopped to turn on the flashlight, taped to the handlebars. The light was slim and shaky, but good enough to navigate the dirt road that ran back to Meadowhouse. Lex and J.D. were sitting on the crumbling wall around the mansion, smoking when I pulled up. Hey, look who decided to show up, J.D. said, tossing his cigarette into the gravel drive.

Mom wouldn't let me leave until I finished my English paper, I said, walking my bike over to the others, where they were leaning against a sturdier section of wall. Where are Tone in Eddie O? Lex hopped off the wall and zipped her jacket up against the wind. Ed's starting the fire, and Tone's working on the food. Did you bring it? I nodded and pulled a bottle of wine from my backpack. Just one? Jady asked. The cabinet was low. I guess my mom hadn't restocked in a while. If I pulled more than one, she'd probably notice.

Lex examined the label. Is it any good? I have absolutely no idea. J.D. slid off the wall, smooth as water down a drain. He plucked the wine bottle from Lex's hands, turning it from side to side. J.D. tapped the glass. Sounds good, he said. Eddie also smuggled some beers out from his place.

The three of us walked through the broken gate. each of us touching the left post with the four deep scratches. It was our little ritual, a reminder of when we first started our campfire stories. Meadowhouse must have been beautiful once. It was massive, taking up several acres a few miles outside of town. It had a dozen rooms, a garden, and even a fountain in the courtyard. What Meadowhouse lacked was a roof.

I mean, it still had bits and pieces clinging to the frame like scraps of clothing on a river-washed corpse, but the place was essentially a wreck. Holes pitted the walls, and all of the window glass had long since shattered from storms or stones. Kids used to come out to Meadow back in my parents' time when they felt an urge to break or burn or just wanted some private space. My dad told me about it, but the cops put a stop to that when the house started to attract drug dealers. For a long time, Meadow House was left to rot. Then we found her. If there's a better place on earth to tell a ghost story, I've never seen it.

I could smell the fire Eddie O. was building before I saw it. It was a perfect October smell, smoky and strong, dry wood cracking. Eddie always liked using old wood from deep in the forest around Meadowhouse. He'd show up early before the rest of us to start gathering. We usually set up in the garden just outside of the house. Occasionally, we banked the fire over the stones in the courtyard. That required us to walk through the mansion, though, so it had to be a special occasion. While we loved using Meadows grounds to tell stories, the house itself was deeply unpleasant.

There was an odor in the house, mildew and bad air, and other dying things. You felt like you were being watched any time you were inside the walls. Not just watched, but followed. Meadowhouse was a shell of what it used to be, but something seemed to linger. Look who decided to show up, Ed said when we walked over. Yeah, yeah, J.D. already said the same thing. Ed had set up the fire in the corner on some open ground, ringed by faded patio stones. The flames were already licking two or three feet up from the pit.

There were still a few ounces of sunshine left in the day, but the edges were getting dark with purple smears, on the horizon. I moved closer to the fire. I should have worn a thicker jacket, but I'd just gotten a red windbreaker that looked a lot like the one James Dean wore and Rebel Without a Cause.

I knew Tone loved old movies like that, so I figured she might like the jacket. Tone was sitting on a big red cooler, heel tapping on a stone path, sipping coke out of a glass bottle from a straw. She'd set up a small card table next to the cooler with hot dogs, chips, s'more, stuff, and assorted snacks.

There was a pile of sticks under the stable, so we could spear the dogs and marshmallows and cook them over the fire. The buffet is open, tone said, hopping off the cooler. First come, first serve. She reached into the cooler, pulled out another Coke, and sent it sailing my way. Don't open it yet, Chris, tone warned. It's going to be shook up. We all gathered around the fire as soon as the sun

was finally and fully sunk. It was freezing everywhere outside of the ring of light, but God it was nice huddled up to the flame. I cleared my throat. Everyone was watching me, waiting for my story. Have you heard the story of the sledgehammer slaughter? I asked, launching into the tale. They found the first body smashed to pieces on the riverbank. Every bone was broken. The skull, a shattered dish with bits of purple-gray brains leaking out. According to the medical examiner, the cause of death was blunt-forced trauma from a sledgehammer.

Detective Rourke was, How could they know that the wounds were from a sledgehammer and not, like, a baseball bat? J.D. interrupted. The shape of the blows, duh, tone answered. Now shut up, and let him finish. I smiled and continued. They hung on every word.

I was really proud of this story. I spent all week working on it. Half an hour later, it was over. Everyone sat blinking like we'd woken up from a collective dream, or nightmare. After cleaning up and packing up, we all went our separate ways. I almost worked up the courage to ask Tone if I could walk her home. Next week, I promised myself. She did compliment me on my jacket at least. I went home and immediately fell asleep. When I woke up, there were police and ambulances all over my street. My neighbors were murdered in the night. It wasn't until Monday at school that I heard rumors about the details. The entire family of four was beaten to death, smashed to pieces, just like in my story. We debated whether we should skip campfire stories the next Friday,

but that would mean breaking our tradition of telling a tale every week in October. That tradition had stood for nearly three years, so we ultimately decided to go ahead with it. The week after the murders was Eddie's turn. Have you heard the story of ravenous ticks? He asked. Eddie's story was terrifying, but more than that, nauseating. Ticks the size of house cats that moved terribly fast. Victims walking around with things hanging from them like swollen blood balloons.

Lex actually threw away. up, scrambling off the log she was sitting on to go puke in the garden. Once we were done listening to the story, I took a deep breath, walked over to Tone, and asked her if I could walk her home. She thanked me but told me she had to bike home so she could be back by curfew. No worries, I said, smiling, praying for the ground to open up to swallow me all. Sorry, mom would kill me if I'm as late as last week. Would you like to meet me in Stevens Park tomorrow morning, though? Just to hang out? Tone asked. Yeah, see you then. I practically floated all the way home. My good mood ended when I met Tone at the park the next day. Did you hear about

Father Gunsell over at First Methodist? She asked, as I joined her on a bench near the park gate. No, my family isn't really the church type. Tone leaned in close enough for me to smell the strawberry shampoo she must have used that morning. They found the priest dead in his house last night, she whispered, drained of all his blood. Jesus? Remind you of anything? Tone asked. Tick, tick, tick.

I felt a chill despite the sunny skies. Eddie's story? Weird, isn't it? That poor family last week after your tale. Now, a guy bled dry? You don't think I had to be. anything to do with it, right? She flicked my shoulder. Of course not. No way. But it's too much to be a coincidence, Chris. I glanced around the park, the chill getting worse. The trees around us were

covered in red and orange leaves. They reminded me of the campfire we gathered around each Friday. You don't think Lex or J.D. or Eddie, I began. Tone bit her perfect bottom lip and shook her head. I don't think so. I don't know, she hesitated. Do you want to hear my theory? I do. It's the house. There's something wrong there.

I always feel like something is watching us while we're there. I think, okay, I know this sounds nuts. But I think there's a presence in Meadowhouse, feeding off our visits and has been for years. Slowly, but now it's getting stronger. I didn't answer for a bit, turning over the idea in my mind. It was crazy, but I'd also been feeling a rising unease with every visit to the house. I mean, we only go there four nights a year, I said.

Even in three years, that's only a couple of collective hours. Maybe that's enough, tone stuck out her tongue. Look, it's just my theory. I held up my hands. It's a good theory. I just... How do we test it without getting more people killed? I guess we could skip the campfire next week.

No. If I'm right, and there's something brewing at Meadowhouse, it might already be too late to stop it. We should keep an eye on it. I think our next campfire should be inside the house. So we can observe any... Weirdness? I asked. Tone nodded.

From the house, or from the group, the deaths being like the stories, Chris, there's a connection, I'm sure of it. She stood up. Since we're in a secret society, now with a mission, we are? Absolutely. Anyway, now that we're in the secret society, we need to have an initiation.

Yeah, what is it? Tone stood up and grabbed my hand. You buy me ice cream! Eddie and Lex were reluctant to meet at Meadowhouse again the following Friday. They'd also noticed the similarities between the recent deaths, and our stories, J.D., as usual, was deeply skeptical. I'm just saying that people die all of the time in all kinds of gruesome ways, he said as we gathered at the gate.

It's just random and crazy chaos or whatever. We filed in, each touching the post with its four scratches, before walking towards the decayed front door. I dropped back to talk with Tone, who was bringing up the rear. What if J.D. is a serial killer, I joked. He could be using us for inspiration. I laughed. Tone didn't.

Chris, if it's not the house feeding off of us like I think, then the next logical conclusion? She waited for me to fill in the gaps. You think one of us could be killing people? Tone shrugged, but looked around at the others. I followed suit. There was no way she was right. Which of us could be a psycho killer? Short little Tone, the movie buff?

Eddie the honor student? J.D. was a stoner, and Lex caught midway between Goth and Gamer Girl. I couldn't picture any of my friends doing anything more evil than J.D. playing pranks on Halloween each year. Hell! The four of us met in kindergarten. I knew my friends better than I knew myself. J.D. took the lead walking into Meadowhouse, followed by Lex and Eddie walking close together, and Tone and me in the back. The front door swung open on ancient hinges, tilting off its axes so much I half expected it to fall on JD. He looked back at us and grinned.

So, it's Lex's turn to tell the story tonight, right? Lex grunched down into her hoodie. I don't really want to. I don't understand what we're doing here. Just checking out the house, Eddie said. He shot a glance at Tone in me since we were the ones who came to the group with Tone's theory. Which, I got to. Guess means checking for anything strange or, like, bodies in the basement?

Tone shrugged. Anything at all. Any signs of the paranormal? Or... She chirped. Like the thought, just struck her out of the dark. Or, or, or, what if there are signs that someone is living in Meadowhouse? Someone who might have been listening while we told our stories.

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and eavesdropping on our Friday night frights was deeply, awfully possible. I suddenly regretted not bringing anything more defensible than a flashlight into the ruins of the mansion. Even JD's nailed on smile wavered a little at the thought there might be somebody in the house with us, but he recovered quickly and pressed on.

Okay, if Lex doesn't want to take her turn, I'll just swap and take mine instead. So, have you heard the story of, I'm not sure that's a good idea? Tone warned. J.D. just smiled wider. Have you heard the story of the toothy shadow? There was a thud from deep in the house. We all stopped, standing in the middle of the massive foyer.

No way, Eddie said. No, no, no, nope. Lex grabbed onto Eddie's arm. We should go. Tone said. I was wrong. We shouldn't be in here. Too late, J.D. whispered looking behind us.

Oh, God, guys. I'm sorry. I turned to see whatever he was seeing. I immediately regretted it. People-shaped shadows stood between us and the front door. I counted a dozen before I stopped. Each silhouette came bleeding out of the walls or windows, peeling themselves away. And each shadow was featureless

other than a mouth full of square white teeth and a red tongue. The shapes began to move towards us. Run! Eddie said. I grabbed Tone's hand and we ran. So did the others. I wanted to shout that we should stay together. That's the basic rule, right?

Never split up in a haunted house. But J.D. was already going in a different direction. Eddie and Lex went up the stairs, while Tone and I sprinted for the hall connected to the foyer. The others! Tone said. I looked back over my shoulder just in time to see a batch of darkness closing in on us, oversized, teeth chattering.

Faster! I yelled, yanking tone down the hall. There was a door open on our right. I pulled us both in and kicked it shut in the same motion, pressing my back against it. It dawned on me that barricading a door might not do much to stop a shadow, but I didn't have a lot of other ideas at the moment. The room was dark with only a little light slipping in from the hall. There was a click, then an orange glow close to my face. Tone was holding a lighter up.

I think we're okay, she whispered. The tiny flame cast small shadows around us. I watched one of the things wrap a thread-thin arm around Tone's throat. Put out the light! I yelled. It was too late. Shadow fibers spread across her neck and face. Tone's expression was more surprised than scared.

Something yanked her backwards, and she'd drop the lighter. It hit the floor and went out. returning the room to the dark. I scrambled on my hands and knees for the lighter. When I couldn't find it, I threw open the door to the hallway. A dim light filtered in, confirming what I already knew. I was alone in the room. Tone, I said. Tone! I was screaming at a bare wall and a moth-eaten mattress. Something small and fast skittered down the hall past the room. My pulse hit overdrive. Tone's lighter was lunged. on the dirty wooden floor next to me. I scooped it up and crept into the hallway. It was

brighter than the bedroom I just left, but I couldn't see why. There were no obvious lights or windows, just an omnipresent glow. I hesitated, unsure of whether I should go deeper into Meadow House to search for my friends, or run for the door to try to get help, and to save my cowardly ass. The decision was made for me when a figure appeared at the beginning of the hallway, one nearest the door. It was a man, at least seven feet tall, wearing a hoodie that left his face entirely in a shadow. He was carrying a sledgehammer, head on the ground. The man began walking towards me, dragging the hammer. The sledgehammer slaughter, I said. You've got to be getting me. I took off in the opposite direction. I ran down a series of halls that split and

turned and forked across the house. It felt like I was at it for hours, though there was no way the house was anywhere near that large. Finally, out of breath and utterly lost, I stopped to lean on a faded wall. The roof above me was full of holes. I should have been able to see right up to the second floor, but there was only blackness. I had no choice but to keep going. The next hallway was different, darker, and absolutely freezing. I flicked the light of the light, three times before it came to life. Oh God, I whispered. The hallway was covered floor to ceiling with fat black balloons.

One of them twitched. Ticks. There were too much larger shapes suspended from the ceiling. These were ticks, but engorged and stuffed with. A whimper escaped between my lips. Lex and Eddie were barely recognizable. Only their faces down to the shoulder were visible hanging out of the swollen ticks. I thought about running through the minefield of creatures on the floor to try to help them,

but I knew it was too late. Their faces were gaunt, so drained of blood, they were nothing more than skin stretched tight over skulls. I backed away from the nightmare and retraced my steps until I came to a fork that led to a descending staircase. I took it, navigating by the flickering lighter's flame. The stairs opened up on a huge, rotting basement, bare, except. for periodic square columns every few yards. It reminded me of a parking garage after the end of the world. There was light like in the hallways, gray but enough to see by.

Someone sat slumped against the near wall. I closed the lighter and walked over carefully. JD was a mess. His shirt was torn and bloody. It was also stained with an oily black liquid that made me think of, shadows. He was leaning against a baseball bat. bat propped against the floor like a walking stick. I had no idea where he found it.

J.D. I whispered. He looked at me, one eye shut by a bruise. Is that you, Chris? Or another trick of the house? I, uh, either way I'd probably say I'm me, right? J.D. laughed, voice a little gurgly. I think it's you. Hell of a night, huh? We never should have come here. I said, sitting next to him. I think we're going to die here. He coughed out some blood. Probably. You know, I've been thinking,

whose idea was it to come here? I know you and Tone called it, but I have this hunch it came from her. It did. Does that matter now? Where is she? I looked away. The house got her.

Did it? Something's been bugging me all month. One of those flittering things, you know? Like an eyelash caught in your eye, but so close you couldn't see it? J.D., I think you might be going into shock. He laughed. How long have we been coming to Meadowhouse to tell our stories out in the garden next to a fire? This is the third year.

How many stories do we tell each year? I said, not sure what he was driving at. We always tell four. One for each Friday in October, right? One for each of us. I nodded. Exactly. Four weeks? Four store? It hit me like a rolling bus.

J.D. saw the expression on my face and smiled a bloody smile. You get it now, don't you? It seems so obvious now, but I think something was blocking us, keeping us from seeing what was right in front of our faces. Whatever that fog was, I guess it went away when we entered Meadowhouse. I didn't respond, still trying to wrap my head around what I'd missed. Four weeks in October, four campfire stories each year, four scratches on the gatepost, one for each of us who were there the first night.

Me, J.D., Lex, Eddie. If you asked me before we walked into the house, how well I knew tone, I could have told you all about how we grew up together. All of the old movies we watched, how I'd had a crush on her for years. But there, sitting in that basement, all of those memories felt false, like they were someone else's. Or maybe they were more like movies than memories. Fragile things projected into my head from somewhere else. It was a trap, Jady coughed.

Don't let us here. She's working with the house. There was a loud clink, the sound of metal hitting tile. We both turned to see the sledgehammer killer walking down the stairs. As the figure advanced, it flickered like a projector on the fritz. Then it was Tone walking towards us, smiling. She stopped a few feet away. J.D., you look awful, tone said, pursing her lips. He laughed.

In a few minutes. After I catch my breath, I'm going to stand up and kick your weird, spooky monster ass. Now it was her turn to laugh. I love your energy, Tone turned to me. How about you, Chris? Not going down without a fight? What are you? I whispered.

You've probably guessed by now, but my name isn't Tone. It's meadow. Like the how? She waked. I am the house, Chris. I was asleep for a long time. Then you and your friends woke me up, gave me stories to chew on, to grow on. And you all helped me shape this, Tone gave a little whirl.

I based her on each of you a little bit, but probably you and J.D. the most. J.D. snorted. No wonder you loved her, Chris. I'm just irresistible. The thing that called itself tone, chuckled. I've had so much fun the last few weeks, and I've eaten so, so well. Your stories gave me life, and the lives I've taken have given me something more. Presence, purpose?

I don't know, but I do know I need more. Yeah, and centipedes need custom blue jeans, Jady said, trying to stand but failing. So who cares what you want? The well is tapped, creep. We're done telling stories. Tone sighed. I believe you.

She flickered again for an instant, and the sledgehammer killer was back. He swung faster than my eye could follow. There was a crunch and a crack, and then Tone was back, small and smiling. Shaking, I turned to J.D. His head was gone.

Now just to be. a red paste on the white wall behind him. Tone leaned in close. You were always my favorite, Chris. So how about you? Are you done telling stories? I felt my bladder go. All I could think about

was the way J.D.'s body ended in a smear above his neck. Tone giggled and patted my cheek. I knew I could count on you. She pulled back and stood tall. Now, I've been getting hungrier and hungrier. I need to feel real, Chris. to anchor myself, to get out of this damn dying house.

So I want you to go out into the world, and I want you to tell the same story to anyone who will listen. That was six months ago. I've been homeless and drifting ever since. Some part of Meadowhouse is with me. I can feel it. It watches me, and if I don't do what it wants, it hurts me. That's why I have to ask you something,

And I'm so very sorry, but I need to know. Have you heard the story of Meadow House?