Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - I Rented a Remote Cabin in the Woods. The Owner Left Me a Strange List of Rules | Part 1

Episode Date: August 10, 2026

Get early access to all 3 parts now with a 7-day FREE TRIAL of Dr. NoSleep Premium: ⁠⁠⁠patreon.com/drnosleep⁠⁠ – Cancel anytime. No commitment. Tariq books a remote cabin for his annual friends’ getaway. The place seems strange, but harmless, until one bedroom becomes a blood-soaked mess and the owner’s rule binder finally explains why. Some rules sound ridiculous. Others sound impossible. But one line matters more than all the rest: if a rule is broken, they have until dawn to make it right… or face something worse than death. Huge thanks to our sponsors: BetterHelp: Sign up now and get 10% off at ⁠betterhelp.com/dns⁠. Shopify: You don’t need anyone’s approval to make a living. Build your own business with a free trial at shopify.com/dns Author: Jake Bible Check out all of Jake’s horror story collections at: https://jakebible.com/short-storiesnovellascollections/ * * * 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 18. Listener discretion is advised.  #drnosleep #scarystories #horrorstories #doctornosleep #creepypasta #horror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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com slash dns your summer travels deserve an upgrade with select Chevroletoebuick gmc and Cadillac vehicles connected by OnStar you can stream game and more on the go whether you're headed to a music festival or a cottage getaway you can access hundreds of apps on google play right from your center display explore onstar tech today at onstar.ca and discover how to take your summer to the next level on star better never stops The full, I rented a remote cabin in the woods. The owner left me a strange list of rules three-part series is live on Patreon right now. Start your seven-day free trial of Dr. No Sleep Premium to hear all three parts instantly.

No delays, no waiting. Cancel any time, no commitment. Just go to patreon.com slash DR. No Sleep to sign up. The link is also in the description below. That's patreon.com slash D.R. No Sleep. Part 1. Vacay with Friends The screaming didn't even phase me.

I grew up as the only boy with four older sisters. A woman screaming at the top of her lungs wasn't unusual. It was just like any other Thursday in my house growing up. But we're not in my house. We're in a rental cabin. A hundred miles from civilization. Oh my God! Alicia screeches.

Her eyes bulging from her face. Her hands like claws. All tense and bunched and gnarled and held next to her head, shaking and flexing and... They're dead! Yeah, I can see that. It's pretty obvious that they are definitely dead. Or I assume it's a they more than one person. Not like there's any identifiable parts.

It's really just a mess of different shades of red and different physical forms. Liquid, chunks, strips, strings, bits, pieces, and more liquid. So much more liquid. Most of it is on Alicia. The rest is all over the room. Pretty much anything that was in here about 30 seconds ago is covered in gore. What the hell is going on? Artie shouts, bursting into the room. He makes it approximately 0.5 seconds before he races out, sprinting down the hall to the bathroom. It sounds like he makes it in time. Doree, what's that screaming? Nicole shouts from the kitchen.

Christ, what is happening back there? Can y'all keep it the hell down? This is supposed to be a relaxing weekend, damn it. Yeah, I'm not surprised that Nicole isn't getting off her ass to come see for herself. She and that bar stool at the kitchen island in the cabin's main room have been best friends since we arrived this morning. I only hope she makes it to the bathroom when her bladder finally protests. I cannot afford to lose the damage deposit on this place if she pease. herself on that stool. Not that the current situation in this room is much better. It's a safe bet. I'll never get my deposit back after all of this. Yeah, I probably don't have to worry about Nicole peeing on a bar stool, considering... I hear already come out of the hallway bathroom.

I take a step out of this nightmare room and into the hallway, glancing at him. He is green to the gills, but taking deep breaths and seems to have it all under control. We should call someone. says. Then his eyes go wide, and he races into the bathroom again. In the bloody mess of a room, Alicia suddenly stopped screaming. It's like someone pressed a mute button. I can see her mouth moving, and can even see her throat flexing, but there's no sound coming out. Oh, thank God. Nicole shouts from the kitchen. I thought that never stopped. Dorek, what is going on? Jeff asks, leaving Nicole's side and stomping down the hallway to me. Did Alicia see a mouse or something? We're in the woods, so she better get used to. Mark

and Helen exploded. I say when he reaches me. I point at the room and they're still silently freaking out Alicia. You see all that? Yeah, I assume that's them. It's a pretty safe assumption. Jeff starts to laugh, obviously thinking I'm playing some joke. He must see the dead seriousness on my face because he chokes his chuckle off instantly, then turns, and blinks at the scene over and over. And he finally laughs, shakes his head, and punches me in the shoulder. Nice try, T. You really went above and beyond with this shit. What is it all?

Pig guts? Chicken blood? I mean, it smells like real animal, that's for sure. Man, you are crazy to pull something like this. Hope the joke is worth the cleanup. I say nothing. I only point at something sitting in the goop in the middle of the room. What? Jeff asks.

staring at the thing I'm pointing at. Is that an eyeball? Yeah, I say. Marks. Jeff snorts and punches me in the shoulder a second time. Dude, that thing looks so... Alicia finds her voice again. I slap my hands over my ears as she turns and walks out of the room.

She doesn't run. She doesn't sprint. She just casually walks out of the room, down the hall and out the front door, screaming the whole way. my eyes stare at the gory footprints she leaves behind her screams are muted as she heads around the house i can sort of hear her through the cabin's walls t that's a human jawbone man jeff says starting to look confused and is that he leans into the room but doesn't step inside is that helen's engagement ring on that finger how did you get her to let you use her rock like this that thing is worth more than what either of us makes in a year." He backs up, turns and faces me.

I see the connections click. Then, just as Artie is coming out of the bathroom, Jeff shoves him out of the way and makes it to the toilet before his gorge escapes. Arty wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. What do we do, Jerich? Who even handles something like this? Who do we call? It takes all of my willpower not to say, Ghostbusters, and burst out into hilarious,

uncontrollable laughter. But I can't lose control like that. I need to think. I need to figure out how to make this right. Not that you can make the aftermath of two people exploding. Um, right. There's zero right left in this scenario. I take a deep breath.

I'm not exactly sure, I say. I'll check the binder the owner left. It has all the local info and phone numbers. I have to assume we call the police. Whoa, whoa, whoa. Nicole shouts. Then I hear the barstool scraping the floor, followed by her heavy footsteps as she drunkenly stumbles down the hallway to Jeff and me.

What's this about calling the cops? Have you two lost your minds? Between us, we brought four ounces of primo weed, a bottle of Adderall that none of you have a prescription for and a gallon batty of shrooms. She stops, plants her hands on her hips, and defies either of us to argue with her. Any of that sound like going to the cops is a good idea. Artie points at the room. I point at the room. Outside, Alicia stops screaming. Jeff is still emptying his stomach contents into the toilet. Nicole rolls her eyes and turns her head. She studies the bloody room for a couple of seconds. Then looks back at me, her skin gray. She gulps. Okay. I'll hide all the crap. You call

the cops. On it, I say and hurry up the stairs to the bedroom I'd staked out. My phone is on the bedside table, charging. I dial 911. There's a beep, beep, beep, and the call doesn't go through. I dial again, same lack of results. I check the bars, and I have exactly one, then none, then one, then none. I try the SOS mode. I don't even get the beep, beep, beep. It just ends the call each time I press the button. Shit! I yell. I want to pull my hair out.

But I remember that we have Wi-Fi, or we should. I'm now getting a no-internet connection warning each time I try to bring up my Maps app or browser, which shouldn't be, since it's showing the Wi-Fi at full signal. My phone's not connecting! Artie shouts from downstairs.

Pocketing my phone, I run back down and head straight for the kitchen. Good idea! Nicole says, already back on her bar stool. with a tumbler filled with whiskey and one ice cube. Grab yourself a drink and settle in, partner. I'm not getting drunk with you, Nicole. I snap, pulling up in drawer after drawer. Utensils, baggies and tin foil, oven mitts, serving utensils,

knives, dish towels. Then I find the drawer with stacks of pamphlets for local attractions and activities. Under all of those is the cabin's binder of policies and procedures. I hadn't looked for it earlier, because the Wi-Fi info was on a magnet on the fridge. Once you have Wi-Fi at a vacation rental, what else do you even need to know? Apparently, a lot.

Because as I leaf through the binder, I realize just how wrong I was. Like, really wrong. Really, really wrong. Wi-Fi could have waited. The very first page is a single sheet of paper that says, read the rules immediately. The owners hold zero responsibility for what happens

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Nicole asks. Most of her tumbler already empty. I did my part. No pig can find the stash. Shit. I may not be able to find it again. She downs her drink, gets off the stool, and grins at me. I better go look for it all just in case. I think I'd put it. Stay right there, I order. And whatever tone is in my voice, it makes Nicole back up and plop her ass down on the barstool again.

Jeff, Artie! Artie joins us immediately. Jeff arrives after a couple of seconds, a wet towel pressed to the back of his neck. Um, I'm going to read some of this to you guys, and well, shit. I don't even know how to even begin. Just read it. Jeff sighs. When are the cops coming, by the way?

No signal, I say. Wi-Fi is out too. Landline? He asks. I pause and look around, not seeing a landline. I don't know. I'll go look, Artie says. No!

I exclaim. Then I calmed down, a little. No, just listen. Read on, Game Master. Nicole says in cackles. Damn nerd. I ignore her and start in. Rule one.

All fire must be contained in designated fire receptacles. and must be extinguished by 3 a.m. Seems reasonable, Artie says. Rule two. No swearing while looking at the picture of Mrs. Prentice. Do not hold eye contact with her for more than five seconds straight. Who the hell is a Mrs. Prentice? Nicole asks, and burps. And I'll hold eye contact with the bitch if I want to hold eye contact with the bitch.

Yeah, you do that, Jeff says, and then gestures for me to continue. Rule three. No intercourse in the Dandelion Room, except for during the hours of 8 and 11.30 p.m. I look up. Which room was Mark and Helen in? Artie shakes his head. Jeff closes his eyes. Oh, crap. Were they in the Dandelion room? Nicole asks. The bar stool falls over as she gets up and staggers down the hallway. Damn it, Nicole, get back here. Jeff snarls.

Yep. Dandelion wallpaper. Nicole shouts. Then she returns, picks up the barstool, and sits heavily on it, almost losing her balance. But what I could see at least, that is one mother of a mess, man. We really need to look for a landline, Artie says. His voice at a panic level bordering on hysteria. The front door opens and Alicia walks in, dressed in only her underwear, dripping wet from head to toe. She walks over to the couch and pulls a large throw quilt off the back, then wraps herself in it before joining us. I found the hose, she says. Her voice raspy and rough, but also flat and even, devoid of pretty much all emotion.

I threw my clothes in the fire pit. Can she do that? Is that allowed? Artie asks, his voice rising even higher. I did it, so yeah, I can. Alicia says, no, there are rules. Artie shouts, pointing at the binder in my hand. Tarika's reading them. Rules?

Alicia asks. What do you mean rules? No boiking in the dandelion room is one. Nicole says and refills her tumbler, skipping the single ice cube this time. Guess which room Mark and Helen were in? Guess what they did outside the hours of 8 and 11.30 p.m.? 8 and 11.30? What? Alicia asks.

I reread the first three rules. There are two more, I say then sigh. Rule four, no matter who arrives, no matter what they say, no matter how much they beg or plead or threaten, do not let anyone inside the cabin during the hours of 3 a.m. and 5 a.m. No one says anything. Rule 5. If a rule is broken, you have until dawn to make it right, or face certain death, damnation, or worse. Jesus Christ! What cabin did you rent, T? Jeff shouts.

That's all the rules. I say, ignoring Jeff's question. I'm looking for a landline. Artie yells and runs off. I hear him head upstairs. Not a bad idea. Could be a phone in one of the guest rooms. There isn't one in mine, but maybe in one of the others.

Those are the rules? Alicia asks. Not the usual rules like, oh, I don't know. Take out the trash and put the towels in the washer before you leave. Because that's a rule for a vacation rental. What isn't a rule for a vacation? Rennel is no screwing in the goddamn Dandelion room.

Except during the hours of 8 and 11.30 p.m. Nicole says with a laugh that turns into a burp. What do we do? Jeff asks. Mark and Helen are dead. Super dead. Nicole says and lifts her tumbler. Godspeed, young fornicators. Godspeed.

She downs her whiskey and reaches for the bottle. I snatch it away and set it on the counter behind me. Jerk. She mutters. then sticks a finger into her empty tumbler, runs it around the side, and licks her finger. I'll just get it when you leave the kitchen. Whatever, I say. Artie comes back into the room.

He looks more shell-shocked than he did when he left. What? I asked. I found the landline, he says and points down the hallway. In the den or office or game room or whatever that is. Great. Did you call the cops? Jeff asks. No.

Artie says, then walks over to the couch and falls. into it, defeated. It doesn't connect to the cops. Who does it connect to then? Jeff asks. Arty laughs and shakes his head. Then he shifts and lies down, placing his head on the arm of the couch.

Artie? What the hell, man? Who did you call? Jeff asks. They just exploded. Alicia says. I went to find my phone, and they were there, you know,

doing what they were doing. And then they exploded. Plop, splat, splat, exploded. She shivers and wraps the quilt around her tighter. I'm going to sit on one of those rocking chairs and get some fresh air. She says robotically. Then she walks out the front door. I got to pee.

Nicole says and stumbles her way down the hall. At least I don't have to clean that up. Who the hell did the phone connect to? Jeff shouts. Artie winces and begins to giggle. Is that funny to you? Jeff snaps. No, no, not at all.

Artie stops giggling and rubs his face. Nothing is funny, man. Then who does the phone connect to? I don't know. What does that mean? I ask. I'm still thumbing through the binder, hoping to find an answer to a very big question.

It means to Rique? Artie says in a snotty voice. He sneers at Jeff. It means Jeff, then I don't know. Feel free to go listen if you want. I won't be picking that phone up again. I can tell you that.

Jeff looks at me and I shrug. I'll be right back, he says. Then he eyes the. binder. What are you looking for? If it's pizza delivery, maybe they can call the cops. No one delivers this far out, I say, then shake my head. I'm trying to find out how we make this right. Huh? Rule five is that if you break a rule, you have to make it right by dawn. Well, how the hell do we make it right? I swallow my frustration. What time is it? Jeff pulls out his phone. 6.30-ish. So we have about 12 hours, maybe 13. I'd better get to the landline, Jeff says.

Have fun with that. Artie cries, getting up to join me in the kitchen. He glances around. Jesus. Did Nicole drink all of the whiskey? Pretty close to it, yeah. Beer? Fridge. Artie hurries to the fridge, grabs a tallboy, twists off the top,

then chugs the entire beer as I stand and watch. He finishes, belches, then snags a second one. This time, he just sips. Too bad about the pizza, he says. I could use a slicer of two or six. There's chips and salsa. I say a nod toward the cupboard where we stashed the snacks we brought. Cool. Thanks.

As Artie rummages through the cupboard, pulling a bag of tortilla chips out, followed by a bag of dried mango slices, I keep hunting through the binder and keep hunting and keep hunting. But all I am finding are instructions for the AC, and now to build a proper and safe fire in the wood stove. There are also the ubiquitous guidelines, about making sure the trash can lid is locked because of bears. Do not flush anything down the toilets except for toilet paper because of the septic tank,

and a list of emergency numbers, all useless because we don't have a working phone. Jeff walks back into the room. He's as pale as a ghost. How was that smart guy? Artie asks, stuffing a chip loaded with salsa into his mouth. You didn't say it was them? Jeff almost whispers. What? Say it was who? I ask and look at Artie. Who did you speak to? Me? No one. All I heard was screaming when I dialed 911.

Artie replies around a mouthful of chips and salsa. Screaming? Jeff asks. I heard Mark and Helen begging for me to help them. Artie stops chewing. Seriously? Seriously. Jeff glances at the binder.

Do you find anything? No. I reply. Did you really hear Mark and Helen? Yeah, come on. I'll show you. I toss the useless binders. under the counter and follow Jeff down the hallway.

I hear Nicole humming to herself as we passed the bathroom. One thing I've learned from building businesses is that getting started is usually the hardest part. When we launched No Sleep Coffee, we already knew exactly what we wanted to sell. We just needed a website. Shopify made that step incredibly straightforward. We set up our storefront, added our products, uploaded the descriptions and images, and within a few days we had a fully functioning online store. What I really value is how Shopify takes care of so much behind the scenes. The checkout experience is extremely smooth.

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Don't miss Buick's employee pricing for you event. Visit buick.ca for more details. When we reach the den or office or game room or whatever it is, a little of all of the above, I suppose, I see an old school, like my grandparents' age, old school, black telephone on the small desk, shoved up against the wall and under the room's single window. You heard them on that?

I ask. Jeff nods. Well, it's creepy looking enough. Jeff nods again. Artie follows us in, having left the salsa in the kitchen, but still cramming his mouth full of tortilla chips, crunching loudly. Do you mind, man? Jeff asks.

I can't get the taste of puke out of my mouth, Artie replies, spitting a few crumbs into the room. Crossing to the phone, I hesitate, then lift the headset. There's a dial tone, I say and smile at the guys. They just watch me. neither smiling back. It's one of those rotary phones, and it takes me a couple of tries

before I can manage not to screw up dialing 911. How did people ever use these in an emergency? You'd die of a heart attack or stroke before you could get to the third number. The line rings and rings and rings. And rings and rings. No answer, I say. Give it a second, Jeff says.

Do you all hear that? Artie asks. He cocks his head and turns around. Is someone's phone ringing? There's service! Jeff shouts and shoves Artie out of the way as he races back down the hallway. Whose phone is it? Artie wonders out loud. Go with him, I say to Artie. I'll keep trying this. Hello?

A woman answers. Artie must see my sudden excitement because he pauses before following Jeff. Hello, yes. Is this the police? We are in a cabin in Arden State Forest. About a mile off Route 17. We need to need help immediately. I freeze. The phone stop ringing. Jeff shouts from somewhere in the cabin. Try calling again. Nicole?

I ask my heart sinking. How did you answer this call? I'm going out this way instead of... I dialed 911, I insist. Is that really Nicole? Artie asks. I nod. Hold on.

He leaves as I rubbed my forehead and look out the window. I notice a shed off to the side out there. its door handle wrapped with a heavy chain and locked with a serious looking padlock. Nicole, I'm hanging up now. I'm going to try 911 again. I hang up and redialed. I only screw up once this time. The phone rings on my end. I hear it ringing. Artie shouts. The line picks up, and Nicole shouts back. Get away from the door freak. I'll be out and stack in. Damn it, I mutter. Nicole asks. When I leave the den or office or whatever, I see Artie walking away from the bathroom door as it opens. Nicole gives me a wicked grin.

You'll want to piss outside if you know what I mean, she says. Then her stomach rumbles, and she places a hand against it. Uh-oh. She goes back into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind her. I find Artie and Jeff sitting on the couch in the main room, both sharing the chips and salsa. Artie has a fresh beer, and Jeff is drinking straight from a bottle of red wine. They look at me. I look at them. We all look away. I'm going to check on Alicia. I say and head to the front door. What do you think it means? Jeff asks. You're going to have to be more specific. I reply with a sad laugh. The phone. We all dialed 911, but already heard screaming. I heard Mark and Helen begging for help. You actually called

Nicole. I don't have a clue, I say and leave. Alicia isn't on the front porch. Alicia? I call out and walk down the steps. Then I see the cars. Duh. Jesus, what an idiot I am. I run to my car, an older corolla, and slap at my jeans pockets. Crap! Keys are inside, of course.

I start to run back to the porch, then catch sight of a quilt, flapping in the wind as it goes around the side of the cabin. Alicia! I shout and run after her. When I come around the corner, she's walking toward the side shed. Alicia! She doesn't acknowledge me, just keeps walking. When I catch up to her, she's reached the shed, and her hands are gripping the chain so hard that her knuckles are white. Alicia, you cool?

She laughs. Right, stupid question, I say. What are you trying to do? The chain is locked. She looks at me and frowns. Then she lets go of the chain and stumbles a couple of steps back, suddenly bent at the waist and gagging. Alicia? Alicia!

I go to her and grab her shoulders, but she shakes me off. She keeps gagging, then retching. Then she's fully throwing up. It splatters on her bare feet, but she doesn't move out of the way. None of what is coming out of her is normal or right. Then there's a quiet clink, and I see something bounce off a rock. Alicia stops vomiting and backs away from the shed and her own sick. That sucked, she whispers.

What is that? I ask, pointing to an object in the mess. What? Alicia asks, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Then she sees it. Oh, crap. Before I can say anything else, she steps forward and plucks the object up out of her vomit. She shakes the gunk off, then holds it to the evening light.

It's a key. We both stare at the key, stare at each other, then turn and stare at the lock in the chain. Alicia moves to the lock, and before I can warn her to hold on a second, Jeff shouts from the cabin's porch. Hey! Yeah, but we got a situation out here! I shout back. Is your situation Nicole in a shouting man? with a woman in a picture from like the 1920s?

Because that's the stitch we're dealing with in here. My shoulder slump. Alicia slides the key in the lock. Click and it opens. Guys? Jeff shouts. Um, I don't think the woman is going to stay in the picture.