Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - I Work at a Motel Where No One Ever Checks Out | Part 3

Episode Date: May 22, 2026

At Perkins Place Motel, no one ever checks out—and when a murdered guest refuses to stay gone, the vacancy meant for someone new becomes a nightmare the whole motel must answer for. But as loyal handyman Jensen is drawn deeper into the Perkins’ brutal “policies,” the truth behind the motel may be even more horrifying than the guests trapped inside it. Huge thanks to our sponsors: BetterHelp: Sign up now and get 10% off at⁠ ⁠⁠⁠betterhelp.com/dns⁠⁠. Quince: Go to ⁠quince.com/dns⁠ for free shipping and 365-day returns. Shopify: Sign up for your $1 per month trial today at ⁠shopify.com/dns⁠. Are you still drinking that stale, store-bought coffee? Check out ⁠⁠NoSleepCoffee.com⁠⁠ to get 20% off fresh, same-day roasted coffee delivered straight to your door. Just use promo code NOSLEEP20 at checkout for 20% off your first order! Author:  Jake Bible Check out Jake's latest collection of stories, They All Bleed: Ten NoSleep Stories, Volume Two https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0G96H432Y * * * 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 #horrorpodcast #horror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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Old Navy's drapey denim wide leg. Part 3. Meet the Void. I run out of room 24, trying to get to Mrs. Plum before she does something truly awful. Mrs. P., Mrs. P., you can't take Mr. Sparks to room 330. She's about 10 yards in front of me, walking across the parking lot down toward Building 3 and Room 3. Guests are outdoors, at windows, standing along railings, watching this all play out. It's quite a show, if I do say so myself. An awful show that I wish I wasn't a part of, but still quite a show.

I mean, you have housekeeping, carrying, of screaming and pleading Mr. Sparks over their soiled, sheet-wrapped heads. Then there's Mrs. Plum with her machete, looking a little out of sorts, if I'm being honest, as she waves the blade around, and me, shouting and chasing after everyone, hoping to halt this nightmare. And why can't I take him to room 3.30, Jensen? Hmm? Mrs. Plum snaps at me. Because it's against Perkins policy, Mrs. P. No guests are to be taken to room 3.30, ever. It's occupied.

No, Jensen, technically, it is a vacant room. And as manager of the Perkins, I am allowed to reassign guests' room assignments as I see fit. She stabs the machete in my direction, and I jump back even though she's still several feet away. Mrs. Plum is very scary with that thing. Also, if we are being technical, Mr. Sparks no longer qualifies as a guest since he was dispatched. But he wasn't. He's right there. I point at the screaming man being held aloft by the horrible housekeepers.

It's why I try to only communicate with them by note. They really creep me out, and that's saying a lot considering the nature of the Perkins. No, Jensen, I dispatched him. If it didn't work, that's on him, not me. I am very good at my job. You're not saying otherwise, are you, Jensen? No, Mrs. P., not at all. It's just...

I watch housekeeping carry Mr. Sparks to building three stairs and start up to the second floor. They have to get upstairs, then walk the entire length of the building before they reach room 3.30, which means that I still have time to save Mr. Sparks. Just what, Jensen? It's just that this feels cruel.

There are a few hushed gasps from the guests watching us. I'm walking a fine line, talking to Mrs. Plum this way. And cruelty isn't what the Perkins is about. Mrs. Plum smiles and, no, sir, I don't like it. Are you certain of that, Jensen? There is a reason I am the manager and you are not. Sometimes, cruelty is needed to keep this place running.

Her grin becomes a sneer, which is more like Mrs. Plum and helps me relax a bit. If you had your way, Jensen, no one would ever be dispatched. They'd live here forever and ever. Yes, that would be wonderful. No dispatching. That would be great. But where would we put them all, Jensen? Hmm? Will people stop coming here, looking to be guests of the Perkins? I highly doubt it. That would mean guests will have to voluntarily check out, and we know that will not happen. No one ever checks out of the Perkins willingly. I know, Mrs. P., but what? I shake my head. It's all so confusing. She isn't wrong, but at the same time. But at the

same time she isn't right. I would love for everyone to stay at the Perkins forever and ever, but there are only so many rooms, and I know a new guest is already on their way. I can feel it. Can't you, people in my head? I know you can. Mrs. Plum sighs. You have to be realistic, Jensen. You can't save everyone. Mr. Sparks was next on the list to be dispatched. I don't make the list that Perkins does. As manager, I must follow that list and do the dirty work of dispatching guests. That is part of my job. Would you rather do it, Jensen? Hmm?

Would you rather be the one to dispatch guests? No, Mrs. P. I whisper. What's that? Speak up. No, Mrs. P. I say louder. I don't want to be the one dispatching guests.

Which leaves it to me now, doesn't it? Yes, I suppose it does. I am glad you finally agree. Now, hurry up there and get Room 330's door unlocked. I don't dare allow house. keeping to set that man down, which is what will happen if you don't get there first. Me, Mrs. P., unlock room 3.30? Stop making me repeat myself, Jensen.

Sorry, Mrs. P. I look up at the second floor of Building 3. Housekeeping is halfway down the walkway. Oh, dear, I'd better hurry. I sprint the rest of the way across the parking lot and hurry up the stairs. I notice a candy bar wrapper on one of the steps and almost pause to pick it up, since that's my job. But I catch myself and keep hurrying up the stairs. Excuse me, pardon me.

I shout as I try to squeeze past housekeeping. It's such a tight squeeze that they almost knocked me over the railing, which would be bad. That parking lot is hard, and my head and body are soft. I'd lose that conflict for sure. Jensen! Jensen! Help me, buddy!

You gotta help me! Mr. Sparks screams as I get in front of housekeeping and head straight for room 3.30's door. Come on, Jensen, do some. Nothing. Don't let them feed me to the void. Sorry, Mr. Sparks, but there's not much I can do at this point. I shrugged my shoulders. You probably should have cooperated when you were dispatched. Cooperated? What does that even mean?

The old bat wanted to evict me from the Perkins by killing me. Why would I cooperate with that? It's a good question. Don't you think it's a good question, people in my head? But it's not my question to answer. At the end of the day, I just work here. Hey, what the hell is all this racket? Mr. Cooper yells after yanking his door wide open. A quick, unfortunate glance tells me he isn't wearing boxers anymore.

But he still does have his, Hell is a state of mind, and I'm the governor, t-shirt on. So that's a minor blessing as long as I keep my eyes aimed upward. Cooper, buddy, you have to get me out of this mess, man. Knock the shit out of one of those housekeepers and hide me in your room. You won't be hiding if everyone knows you're in my damn room, you stupid. it, boob? Mr. Cooper shouts and then slams the door. Then he opens it right back up. Hold the hell on. No one told me what the hell is going on. We have to throw Mr. Sparks into the

void because he refuses to be dispatched, I say. Oh, well, that sounds like a great idea. Fill that void so I can get even more sleep. Cooper, come on, buddy. Help a pal out. Mr. Sparks screams. You ain't my pal, you boob. Mr. Cooper slams his door closed. again. Then he yanks it back open. Hold on. I want to watch. Taking a deep breath, I pull my keys from my belt. I can't help but smile at the sound the line makes when it unwinds, but my smile drops as I slip the key into the lock and turn it. Housekeeping is stopped right behind me. It's a tight fit. I can feel their nasty, soiled sheets brushing against my back. Open it, Jensen! Mrs. Plum calls out. I glanced to my left and see her coming straight for us.

Did you hear me? Oh, Jensen, don't open it. Mr. Sparks cries. Housekeeping doesn't have an opinion. Mr. Cooper does. Yeah, open it, Jensen. Toss that worthless boob into the void. I pull the key out of the lock.

Zip! And my hand touches the doorknob. Leave it alone! Someone shouts from their room. Throw it in. Someone else shouts. Void, void, void. A third guest, chants.

Others soon join in. A few guests are shouting for Mr. Sparks to be let go, but they are drowned out by the majority, calling for him to be tossed into the void. I didn't think it was such a bloodthirsty crowd here at the Perkins, but considering the policies we live by, I shouldn't be too surprised. Thirsts must be quenched after all. That's what Mrs. Plum says. I turned the knob and shove the door open.

A gaping bunch of nothing faces us, and by nothing, I literally mean nothing. There's no room. No furniture. TV, nothing. There isn't even black. It's not like I'm staring into a room with no light. That would still be seeing something. Nope. This is like looking at absolutely nothing. It's a blank space in my mind. Do you see it too, people in my head? Can you see the nothing? Oh, what am I even saying? Of course you can't see it. It's nothing. Silly me. Starting a business always sounds exciting until you realize how many little things you suddenly have to figure out. We've experienced

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your $1 per month trial today at Shopify.com slash DNS. Go to Shopify.com slash DNS. at shopify.com slash dns. Yep, that's the void all right, Mr. Cooper says. Move. Mrs. Plum orders and shoves Mr. Cooper out of the way with her machete. He gasps and jumps back, his hand to his arm. Oh, quit being such a baby. It was only a little nick. I see blood pouring out from between Mr. Cooper's fingers.

That was more than a little Nick, Mrs. Plum gave him. Oh, wow. Don't want to waste this, do I? Cooper says, and retreats back to his room. You boobs have fun tossing that other boob into the void. Fun? Why would he think this is fun? Do you think this is fun, people in my head? I don't. Mr. Sparks doesn't deserve this.

He was a good man, I think. Maybe not. Hard to tell sometimes. I know what you're thinking, Jensen, Mrs. Plum says. That he doesn't deserve this. Well, you're wrong. It is his turn to be dispatched so that you can bring forth a new guest. You want that.

Don't you, Jensen? I think so, I reply. My eyes, still trying to find something, anything, to lock onto in the void. There's just so much nothing. I finally look away and back at Mrs. Plum, who has squeezed in next to the housekeepers and the still crying and pleading. And did he pee himself? Yes, it appears he has.

The crying and pleading and urinating Mr. Sparks. Please stop! I don't deserve the void. I don't. Mr. Sparks cries. Set him down, Mrs. Plum orders. Housekeeping growls. I said to set him down.

The tone in her voice is sharp and dangerous, kind of like her machete. Housekeeping sets Mr. Sparks down, and he immediately tries to crawl away. Mrs. Plum puts the tip of her machete against the back of his neck. He freezes in place. Jetson, I am going to leave the honors to you, she says, smiling at me.

I went to an aquarium once, not sure when, since I've always lived here at the Perkins, but I know I did, because I remember the sharks they had there. They smiled then, like Mrs. Plum smiles now. Honors, Mrs. P., I ask. You will be the one to fling this policy breaker into the void. Me, Mrs. P? Stop that with the questions. Sorry, Mrs. P.

I scratch my neck and frowned down at Mr. Sparks. Do I have to? Well, someone is going into the void. Who would you like it to be? She removes the machete from the back of Mr. Spark's neck. She aims it at housekeeping, and they shrink back, pressing their nasty, soiled, sheeted bodies against the railing. Them? Should we give the housekeepers to the void? I look at them, and they all shake their shrouded heads. I'd rather not, Mrs. P.

I stare back at the void. I look away quickly. Why does anyone have to go into the void? Policy! She roars. The door is open. The void is hungry and waiting. Someone goes in there, or I push you in, Jensen. Make your choice. Now.

I'm sorry, Mr. Sparks. I truly am, I say. If you were sorry, buddy, you pick someone else. How about one of the losers in building one? They all suck. I mean, like, really suck. Did you know that Herb eats his own boogers? And the ones he doesn't eat, he flicks into the buffet?

No, I don't. A voice calls out from the parking lot. That's when I realized that all the guests have left their rooms and their floors, and have all gathered below us in the parking lot. I can see most of them through the railing. There's Mr. Caldwell and Mr. Amalfi. Mr. Robinson is standing next to Annie Freed. Hi, Annie Freed! I call and wave. She waves back. There's also Miss Belinda and Miss Wanamaker. None of them look like they're in a volunteering to leap into the void mood. I don't blame them.

I doubt you do either, people in my head. Again, I am truly sorry, Mr. Sparks. I say and reach down to grab him by the shoulders. He scurries away, but doesn't go far. There's no staircase on this end of the building, so all he can do is press himself against the walkways end railing. He even sticks an arm through the rails, trying to see if he can fit. I suppose he just fling himself off this floor if he could, but he's a grown man and will not fit through those railings, obviously.

If it's any consolation, Mr. Sparks, I say to him as he cowered with his back to the railing. You're already pretty torn up. And you know, folks, don't heal here at the Perkins. Going into the void is most likely your best option. Although skin flaps are going to just rot and fall off, and I doubt you'll want to live like that. Yeah, gonna disagree with you, buddy, he replies. I'll live with the rotting skin flaps if it means I get to live.

Oh, this is ridiculous, Mrs. Plum shouts. Pick his ass up and throw him into the void, Jensen. Do it now! Do it now! Someone in the crowd below shouts. Soon, the whole group, group is chanting it. Do it now! All this pressure makes my head hurt, and there is only one way to relieve this pressure.

Mr. Sparks, I don't want to drag you into the void, but I will if I have to. I tap my head. I have too many people up here, sir, and I need to let one of them out. You were supposed to be dispatched, and that would have left a vacancy for the new guest. Now I have to live with the pressure of the guest wanting out, but with nowhere to go. I take a deep breath and stand up tall. I will not lose my head for you, Mr. Mr. Sparks, crawl into the void, or I will throw you in. I am sorry.

The crowd below cheers wildly. Mrs. Plum smiles at me, very happy. The housekeepers slowly slip away, and I don't blame them. If this goes sideways, Mrs. Plum will make me toss one of them into the void. Then you're going to have to throw me, buddy, Mr. Sparks says defiantly. I'm not going into that nightmare willingly. I can tell you. Hey, what are you doing? Let go with me. I have him by the ankles, and I drag him to the doorway. Stop it!

Damn you, Jensen! I said to stop it! I don't stop it. I drag and drag. He tries to grip the railing, but he only has three fingers on one hand, and Mrs. Plum happily lops off the other hand at the wrist with her machete. Mr. Sparks screams and kicks at me,

but he's in too much pain for the kicks to be very hard. No! He wails once I have him right up next to the doorway. Don't do this, buddy. Don't! Do it now! The crowd below shouts. Sorry!

I say, and use all of my strength to fling him into the void. He goes head first, screeching the whole way. Then the screeching stops, and there is pure silence. I think he's gone now. I say to Mrs. Plum. Good, Jensen. Very good. She pats me on the shoulder with the flat of the machete blade.

You know what to do now? I certainly do. I say and reach up to my scalp. Slowly, I prod for the scars. the points where the sutures went in. My fingers work into my skin, my nails digging through my flesh. All I have to do is get this skin away. Then I can crack open my skull and pull one of you lovely people out.

Isn't that exciting? One of you can be a new guest. I keep digging and then pulling and then bleeding. A lot. The blood runs into my eyes, making it hard to see. Am I doing it right, Mrs. P? I call out. Mrs. P., can you look at my head and see if the new guest is there, please?

But when I turn around, she's not there, or not close enough for me to make out with all of this blood in my eyes. Then I hear her cackling as she runs around the corner of the hallway. The others are still shouting, but they aren't below me anymore. They're all standing in the middle of the hallway. Their fists raised as they keep chanting. Do it now! And alarm blares. What is this?

A whisper. Using my shoulder to wipe my eyes, I turn and look at the door to room 3.30. It's not a door, though. It's a laundry chute. A laundry shoot with a whole lot of blood dripping from the edge. I lean in and can just barely see Mr. Sparks stuck halfway down. Boy, his body sure looks messed up. Should his neck be at that angle?

I'm asking you, people in my head. Anyone? Hands grab me and pull my arms down to my sides. I thrash against them, bearing my teeth and growling like a wild animal. How dare they stop me from producing a new guest? How dare they? Damn it, he just killed another patient and is trying to rip his head open again. A man yells.

Kill out, Jensen! Another man shouts in my ears. We're saving your damn life. I swear, every time this guy gets near that plum woman, this shit happens. They need to keep them separate. That would mean making a policy. And you know how much the administration here of Perkins hates making policies? Yeah, well, a place called Perkins Institute for the criminally insane could use a few more policies if you ask me, the lazy bastards.

Must be nice to be a doctor. I wouldn't know, but it sure sucks being an orderly here, I can tell you that. Let me go, let me go. I have to open up and let the next guest out of my head. I have to set them free. There's a vacancy. There's a vacancy. I scream and thrash against their grip.

Mrs. P., Mrs. P., help me! Plum is already back in her cell, Jensen. Just calm down and... Oof! Damn it, Cooper! Hey, you boobs! Eat my ass! You'll never catch me. Can someone help me chase down Cooper before you?

makes this worse? One pair of hands disappears, and that's their mistake. Now I can really rip my head open and set the new guest free. Welcome to the Perkins! Thanks for tuning in. If you enjoyed the story, be sure to follow or subscribe and share the show with a fellow horror fan. I'll see you in the next one.