Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - I'm Afraid My Hometown is Hiding a Terrible Secret

Episode Date: August 20, 2025

When a man reluctantly returns to his seaside hometown with his pregnant fiancée, he uncovers a buried childhood memory of an ancient creature in the coastal caves—a being that has chosen his unborn child for a dark purpose, and whose influence grips the entire town. * * * CONTENT DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content not limited to intense themes, strong language, and depictions of violence intended for adults. Parental guidance is strongly advised for children under the age of 17. Listener discretion is advised.  #drnosleep #scarystories #horrorstories #doctornosleep #horrorpodcast #horror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

It's not fair. My fiancé Raquel teased, launching me into an argument I'd had at least once a day for the past six weeks. I've shown you my messy, dramatic family. Why won't you show me yours? Sometimes I wish I didn't love Raquel so much. It would have made it easier to lie to her. I could have said that my father was an abusive drunk who used to whip me with a belt, or that my mother was a kleptomaniac, currently incarcerated for theft. Of course, none of that was even remotely true.

My father only broke out the bottle of dusty whiskey a few times a year when guests visited, and my mother once walked all the way to the shops because a store clerk gave her two pennies extra in change. Like most folks in Preston, my parents were decent, hardworking people. Apart from the long drive, I couldn't think of a single reason for keeping work hell away. And yet, maybe that plane, Honest goodness itself was what made me so uneasy. Raquel wasn't kidding about her family. The first time I'd met her mother Carmen,

the woman had spent the entire afternoon waving a ladle in my direction and criticizing Raquel's taste in men while she tiptoed around the toddlers playing on the kitchen floor. Rakel had expected the chaos to bother me as much as it did her, but I'm a hospital EMT. Before my visit with my fiancé's family that day, a car crash victim had bled all over my clothes, and I'd held a 90-year-old woman's hand while she begged not to die.

Compared to work, my fiancé's family was tame, and besides, their cooking was delicious. The only thing I should have been worried about was that Preston would bore Raquel to death, so I kept making excuses to avoid the trip. In fact, I hadn't been back to the tiny seaside town since I'd left at 18, almost. seven years ago. I had seen my parents a few times each year, but they always came to visit me in the city, never the other way around. Although they claimed that they just wanted to travel and see new things, we all knew the unspoken truth. Ever since a young age, I had felt that something was wrong in Preston, and I had no intention of ever going back. I couldn't describe the feeling with much more

detail than that. When I tried to explain it to Raquel, I'd compare it to how some people will notice an odd taste in the tap water that others are oblivious to, or how a high-pitched sound can keep one person awake while another snores beside them, unaware that the noise was ever there at all. Maybe, I had told myself countless times, the problem wasn't with Preston. Maybe the problem was with me. I'm sure it would mean a lot to your parents, Raquel went on. I just want to see where you come from, you know?

Especially now that we're going to be a family of three. Regal's pregnancy wasn't the only reason for our upcoming wedding, but I would be lying if I said it hadn't sped things up a bit. I sighed, took a sip of coffee, and looked out the window. It was a rainy Friday afternoon. We had no weekend plans. And if I called my parents now, we could be in Preston by around 9 p.m. Experiencing my hometown was clearly important to Raquel,

and considering all that she was about to put herself through for our family, taking her for a visit was the least I could do. I like to think that the trip was a snap decision, made under the influence of a long workweek, bad weather, and a sense of obligation. I like to think that if I'd taken more time to think about it, I never would have taken the girl I loved back with me to Preston. That afternoon, however, our plan didn't hit a single snag.

My mother answered the phone on the second ring. I felt a pang of guilt when she said that our last-minute visit was no problem because she still had my room prepared, just in case. There was hardly any traffic in spite of the rain, and Raquel gasped when she saw the size of the waves crashing against the cliffs. I smirked, knowing that the views would only get more impressive as we drew closer to Preston. The ocean, after all, was what gave the town life. The same could be said of any of the villages scattered up and down that stretch of coast.

It was tourists in July and August, fishing from January to April, and a sort of quiet, hollow emptiness during the rest of the year, as though all of those tiny white cottages and colorful flower beds were holding their breath. The average day-tripper or company fishermen probably wouldn't have been able to distinguish Preston from the 20-odd other towns nearby. All of them seemed to have the same overpriced ice cream cart, the same little shops selling magnets and scuba gear, the same crusty 80s rock dive bar for the working stiffs.

But even so, I never got that feeling in any of them, not like in Preston. Rekyll was still staring out the window at the coast. I'm surprised if there aren't more houses out here, she commented. Oceanfront property, you know? What Raquel didn't know was that those beautiful rugged cliffs were mostly limestone, with an extensive cave system underneath. Collapses and sinkholes were common, and where there was empty land, it was for a good reason.

Come closer, child of Adam. You will service well. An image flashed through my mind. A child gripping his mind. A child gripping his mother's damp, clammy fingers, the echo of dripping in a vast stone chamber, an impossibly high wall of dark water. Look out! Rickelle screamed and fumbled for the steering wheel. A horn blared, tires screeched on the slick pavement. Without realizing it, I had drifted into the opposite lane.

The truck missed us by mere inches. Hands shaking, I pointed us away from the stormy sea beyond the guardrail and back toward the road. I apologized for drifting off. Raquel told me that it was fine. We were all right, after all, and it was only natural that coming back here after so much time had passed would trigger some unexpected memories. But that memory, if it was a memory, had disappeared as quickly as it came. And I was at a loss to find it again. It was all I could do just to focus on driving. I didn't have any answers to the questions whirling through my mind. All I had was a sudden, almost irresistible urge to be able to drive. to turn the car around and drive as fast as I could away from Preston. Instead, I switched the headlights on and turned the radio up. It was only about an hour left to go, and I was sure my parents would have supper waiting

on the table when we arrived. Preston only had about 400-year-round residents, although that number more than tripled during the summer. Like most of the towns up here, it had been built at the end of a sheltered cove, with high cliffs on either side. The main road wound, snake-like, from the ridge line to the beach below. How many times that I skinned my knees riding a skateboard down that street? How many times that I lost my breath running up it? Hurrying to meet a friend, or to arrive on time to a school play. I had been in the drama club back then, wanting to be an actor. With a shiver,

I wondered whether I had chosen a more stable career, because I had secretly feared that, Should I fail, I'd wind up back here. Rain hammered against the windshield, but its noise was drowned out by the booming of the waves, a sound that had lulled me to sleep each night for 18 years. There were only a few porch lights still on in Preston, and I recognized my parents right away. After all these years, I was finally home, but there wasn't much time to process what that might mean.

As soon as we were through the door, it was all hugs, claps on the back, and warm shepherds by, with a cold beer for me and a glass of milk for Raquel. From the cozy wood decor to the fake bearskin rug on the living room floor, the place hadn't changed a bit. Rekkel and I could barely keep our eyes open, however, and after we had finished eating, we made our excuses and headed upstairs to bed. I had just started putting on my pajamas when I heard a familiar. your squeak. Raquel was pulling up the storm shutters to peek outside. I stumbled across the room and grabbed her wrist before she could get too far. Got to keep those down during rough weather,

I cautioned her. Storms can get bad out here on the coast. They can fling a flower pot straight through a window or, babe, Raquel rolled her eyes. It's just rain. My fiancé had a point, But for as long as I could remember, everyone in Preston had put their storm shutters down when it rained overnight. My parents had spent my whole childhood emphasizing how important it was, and now I couldn't breathe easily until Raquel had lowered them again. Was it just the long drive that had me so on edge? I was too tired to wonder. Rekyll and I climbed into my familiar yet unfamiliar childhood bed

and were asleep almost as soon as our heads hit our eyes. pillows. When I awoke the next morning, the rain had stopped, and Raquel and my parents were gone. I tiptoed downstairs in the dusty morning sunlight, calling their names, but there was no reply. It was like a bad dream. Maybe, I hoped, they had just gone outside to get something from the car. I pulled on my boots and stepped out onto the front porch, only to find the rain's slickened streets deserted. It wasn't unusual for Preston to be vacant during the off-season, but I felt as though I was the last person left on earth, as though a great tide had risen up and dragged everyone out to sea while I slept. The ding of a bell made me jump. It was Raquel,

riding downhill on the bike I'd used as a teenager. There was a box of muffins and a coffee thermos in its basket. She waved. Her cheeks flushed with excitement. Sorry I didn't wake you. The morning sickness got me up a few hours ago, and your parents told me about Howells, up at the top of the hill. They're out shopping now, but they should be back any minute. My fiancé paused, scrutinizing my face. Honey, what's wrong? she asked. I didn't know how to answer her. Over steaming cups of coffee and howl the baker's famous orange and cranberry muffins, Raquel raved about Preston. Everything was clean and well cared for.

People waved and chatted in the street. Growing up in her mother's cramped downtown apartment, it was the sort of place she'd always dreamed of living. Why hadn't I told her about it before? I didn't have an answer for that either. I hoped that as I strolled along the beach with Raquel, chatted with my parents, and visited familiar sights around Preston,

I would find the words to describe my reasons for leaving. Maybe words were useless. Maybe you had to feel it. And although I hadn't been back for a full day, I already was. As long as I was distracted by some activity, I was fine. But whenever my mind wandered, I felt it pulled like the tide toward the sea. What was out there? Beneath those endless dark waves.

What was calling to me? Come closer, child of Adam. You will serve us well. That phrase again. What did it mean? Another image came to me, this time of a boy, lying terrified beneath his blankets, warm and dry, but still unable to free himself from the ocean's chill. His mother passes her hand across his forehead.

We all go down to meet them, little one, but don't be afraid. Time forgets. This place really does have everything you could want. I looked up, exhausted from walking all around Preston. We had settled in for a night. night of board games with the family. Raquel was talking to my father while she waited for me to take my turn.

A butcher, a baker, and a candlestick maker, just like in the nursery rhyme. She went on, then gave my arm a friendly punch. I honestly don't see why you left. Across the table, my mother and father exchanged a wink. The fire

crackled in the hearth. A chill sea breeze rattled the windows, and suddenly I felt very alone. They did not understand. How could they? I moved my game piece without paying much attention and leaned back in my chair to look out at the dark expanse of the sea. We don't have to stay here if you're not comfortable, Raquel told me later that night. I had been staring sleeplessly up at the ceiling, sure that my fiancé was already dozing beside me. And if something's on your mind, she added,

you can always tell me, no matter what, okay? I took a deep breath. When we were watching, we were walking around today. You didn't see much trash in the street, did you? I asked. Raquel shook her head. You won't find any run-down houses either. No poverty, hardly any crime. My fiancé sat up, wondering where I was going with this. I wasn't sure myself. We get a lot of tourism, but not so much that the town is oversaturated, and the fishing is good here, unusually good. When I was in middle school, some scientists came up from the university to study why shoals were so plentiful here. They went back after a few years, scratching their heads, unable to conclude anything except we don't have any idea. Why is that? What makes this town so special?

Raquel suggested that maybe Preston was just lucky. Have you ever known anybody to be lucky? Just lucky with no skeletons in their closet? And no strings attached, now it was my fiancée's turn to fall silent. I sighed, stretched, and announced that I was going for a walk to clear my head. There was no way I'd get any sleep after our conversation. And if Raquel needed anything, my parents' room was just down the hall. I crept downstairs, put on a windbreaker, and slipped outside.

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but I had walked it many times as a teenager, and doing so had always calmed me down. I hoped that tonight it would have the same effect. The lights on the promenade had been put in for the tourists, but even now, in autumn, they were still lit. They were brightest at the far end, down by Sandy Grotto. The tourist brochures listed Sandy Grotto as a cave, but it was really more like a deep indentation that time had hollowed out of the rock. It was roughly the size of a large, domed living room, and these days, people only visited for the photo that could be taken at a certain angle

through the mouth of Preston's so-called cave. In summer, there were lines for it, But as I approached that night, Sandy Grotto stood empty. I left the promenade and stepped inside, my feet slipping in the loose sand that gave the place its name. Between the pillars of light and the echoing silence, it was almost like being in a cathedral. Apart from the floodlights and their cables,

Sandy Grotto had only one unnatural feature, a solid metal door that had been put in place to seal off the deeper cave system beyond. I approached and placed my hand against the cool metal, as though feeling for a heartbeat. Until now, I had never given the door a second glance, nor wondered what was on the other side. That's because...

A nasty voice inside my head whispered. Everyone in Preston knows what's beyond... My father waking me in the middle of the night. The hallway light is blinding, and I'm lifted out of bed before I get my bearings or wonder what time it. it is. My mother takes me by the hand, dresses me in the warmest clothes she can find, and walks

me downhill to the deserted winter beach. I can't feel any wind, but those dark waves are larger and taller than I've ever seen them. The lock on that door looks complicated, but it's easy to open. All you have to do is punch in Preston's postal code. I blinked, wondering where the information had come from. Of course. I'd seen my mother opening it that. night. I had asked her where we were going, but instead of answering, she just picked up an oil lamp from the stony floor within, lit it, and led me deeper into the cave. I hesitated, then reached out to punch the code into the lock. I was just testing a theory, I told myself. I could turn around and walk home at any time. My fingers trembled as I pressed each number, but it wasn't

because of the cold. A green light flashed, the thick metal door swung inward. In the darkness on the other side, I could just make out the shape of a familiar-looking oil lamp. Why do we have to use this thing? I had wondered out loud that night, disturbed by the flickering flame and the stretched shadows had cast on the slick cavern walls. I'm sorry, honey, she'd responded. They don't like bright lights. My throat was dry. If I turned around, I felt sure of what would happen. I would return to bed, wake up groggy, and spend two more disquieting days in Preston.

Then, on Sunday evening, Raquel and I would pile our bags into the car and drive away from this place, never to return. I would always have a hole in my memory as dark as the blackness of the cave ahead, and every time I looked at the sea, I would feel its pull without ever knowing why. I took a step forward and bent down to test the lamp. It seemed to work perfectly, now or never. After checking to make sure that the door could be opened easily from the inside, I let it close behind me. The lamp's oil slashed comfortingly as I moved deeper into the cave.

There was a room-sized pit ahead of me, with a sort of natural walkway winding down it. Something about its shape reminded me of a tunnel that a huge, invertebrate might leave behind as it dug through the earth. From up here, I couldn't see the bottom. The air was stiller and clammyer in here, but I could still hear the roar of the ocean. So why wasn't this hole filled with water? Just how deep did it go? There was only one way to find out. With every step, I was more and more certain that I had come this way as a child. It couldn't be that far. All the same, it seemed to be. It seemed to be.

wrong to me that my parents, usually so careful and cautious, would have brought a child down here. The ledge was slippery, uneven, and slanted ever so slightly toward the pit in its center. It was barely wide enough for a single person, much less two, and there was no guardrail or ropes to break a fall. I heard my mother's whisper from all those years ago, as clearly as if she were standing beside me. We're almost there. How could I have forgotten and experienced like this. Why would my mind have blocked it out? Unless there was something awful waiting at its end, something that, as a child, I had been unable to face. The echo of water droplets splattering on stone let me know I'd finally reached the cavern floor. I was so far down that I could

no longer even hear the boom of the waves. I held up the oil lamp. The chamber extended before me like the great hall of some medieval castle. It should have been in. impossible. Wasn't the ocean in that direction? I walked on, suddenly afraid of a cave-in, of some lightless death by drowning that would leave Raquel and my future child alone and unaware of what had happened to me. Up ahead, the high-ceilinged tunnel seemed to end, but not in a wall of stone. It ended in a wall of water. Physics said that what I was seeing was impossible. My eyes and memory told me that it was true. I had been here, but I was. for. Come closer, child of Adam, you will serve us well. The last time, my mother had let go of my

hand at around this point. She had urged on toward the hundred-foot-high wall of liquid at the end of the chamber. By that time, however, curiosity had overcome my fear. The whole thing had felt like a grand adventure, and besides, my parents had brought me here. That meant that it couldn't be too dangerous, could it? I had been overcome by an irrational urge to touch the dark water to know what it felt like, to confirm by feel what my eyes couldn't believe. And what had happened next? I lifted the oil lamp and moved a little closer. Its dim glow shed almost no light into the water ahead of me. I took out my phone and shook on its flashlight. With its more powerful beam, I could see the dark turquoise transparency of the water,

but not much more. Somehow, I felt sure that I was looking into the vast emptiness of the ocean. What was this place? I considered taking a photo, but I knew that it would turn out as a blurry mess that didn't do the massive space justice. My fingers brushed against each other unconsciously. It was almost like they were itching to reach out and touch the water again. I was debating whether or not I should

when I noticed something moving in the turquoise gloom. Those writhing motions reminded me of a snake swimming toward me, or maybe several of them. I backed away, but not found. enough. Six blackish-green tendrils burst through the wall of water. In the split second before they shattered my phone against the rocks and coiled around me, I saw that each gnarled limb was encrusted with dozens of pale white suction pods. I threw myself against the walls of the stone chamber, but it was no use. Whatever had come for me from those dark depths was just

too strong. The lantern was knocked over in the scuffle, plunging everything into pitch darkness. And then I was draught off of my feet and through that wall of icy black water. All the air in my lungs was dumped out in one last primal scream, and I surely would have drowned if some other awful appendage hadn't formed a watertight seal around my nose and mouth. The cold, the panic, and the sheer horror of it all were so great that a minute passed before I realized that I was breathing normally. The air reeked of rotten meat, but it kept me alive. 30 feet, then 60, even deeper, just how much further down was this thing going to take me? Something glowed faintly below.

It reminded me of an angler fish's lure, but larger, much larger. There were several of them, all hanging from the body of something that was skyscraper large and yet somehow alive. The tendrils brought me to a halt just beneath one of those glowing nodules. More tendrils, some as thick as a train car. twisted and coiled below me. I couldn't have said how long I floated there helplessly, wondering which would kill me first,

the cold, the pressure, or the monster I was facing. The knowledge that it was keeping me alive for some obscure purpose of its own didn't make me feel any better. There was movement in the wall of flesh ahead, and I looked into a single yellowish-red eye twice my size. Child of Adam, you have returned. You always were a difficult one.

Hearing the creature speak using my own voice was bad enough. Even worse was the understanding that I had been here before. This, this was what my mind had been trying to erase. The wall of water, those inhuman limbs. Being brought before this thing and given my purpose. My purpose? What had it been? All at once, I remembered how my first conversation with the creature had gone all those years ago.

Not all are meant to stay, child of Adam. You will never feel truly at home here. You will go out into the world and bring new life to us. You will not be of much use, but your offspring will serve us well. The realization made me flail like a madman. But the thing's grip was strong as steel, and yet as sickeningly gentle as a mother's arms. I raged at it, pleaded with it, told it what I thought it wanted to hear.

None of it made any difference. We will return you to the surface world, child of Adam. Do not interfere. The enormous eye closed. The tendrils lifted me up through the water, away from the faint lights and the organism from which they hung. Its bulk faded slowly into ocean depths like a bad dream. And minutes later, I felt myself flung back out through the wall of water.

The tendrils retracted, leaving me shivering and alone in the dark. My hands shook as I fumbled for the oil lamp. When I finally found it and lit it, It weighed less than I remembered. There was no way to know how much oil had leaked out in the scuffle, or how long what remained would last. My entire body ached from the struggle, but I had to hurry. I had to warn Raquel and get us both out of Preston before it was too late.

Your offspring will serve us well, that monstrosity had said. The thought of my unborn child being dragged below and given a purpose by that thing made me wretch. My mouth was still full of the spoiled meat stench of the air. that it had fed me. It had evolved to do this, I realized with a shudder, to drag lesser beings below and bend them to its will. I must have been more challenging than the other inhabitants of Preston, and its response was to simply wipe my memories and send me away. I thought I understood now why the fishing was so good, and why the weather behaved itself for the tourists. Perhaps it even came up from the depths during wet weather, and that was the true reason why everyone was the

one in town shut their blinds on rainy nights. What did it want with us? Perhaps it wasn't anything rational. Perhaps for it, Preston was something like a child's fish tank or an ant farm. Its true motives didn't concern me, and I had no intention of going to the authorities. All I wanted was to get my family as far away from it as possible. By the time I staggered out of Sandy Grotto, a thick fog blanketed the streets of Preston. A part of the part of the city. from the white haze, the town was just as I had left it, and everything was different. I wouldn't wake my parents, I decided. Rakel and I would call them later from the road to let them know that there had been an emergency and we needed to leave. I didn't think that my

own family would try to stop me by force, but after what I had learned, I could no longer afford to take that chance. The reduced visibility amplified my fear. Was I really hearing the echo of my own footsteps on the hushed small-town streets, or was I being followed? I rubbed my arms, trying to get some warmth back into them. My skin was pale, rubbery, and covered with goosebumps. It felt numb to touch, as though it were someone else's. It didn't matter whether someone was pursuing me or not. If I didn't find warmth and shelter fast, I would start suffering the effects of hypothermia. I could see my parents' porch light up ahead. I gripped my wrist to stop my shivering as I turned the key in the lock and tiptoed inside.

The house was silent. I breathed a sigh of relief and immediately started feeling around for a blanket. I was halfway across the living room when a lamp switched on beside the couch. They were all there, my mother, my father, even Raquel. Looks of tension and concern covered each face. Hi, honey, Raquel said nervously. She wrapped a wool blanket around my shoulders, then backed away. like she was afraid to touch me.

My father muttered something about how everyone was here because they loved me and wanted the best for me. My mother cried into her handkerchief. We're worried about the way you've been acting lately. Raquel took over when my parents' words faltered. Losing control of the car, having these paranoid delusions, disappearing for hours late at night

without telling anyone where you're going. I stammered that I could explain, but not now. We needed to leave. We think it would be best if you went someplace where you can rest for a little while. Some place where you can get the help you need. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. But Raquel sounded convinced of every word.

The blanket slipped from my shoulders as I backed away toward the hallway. There's no point in fighting this, honey. Rekkele added sadly. We've got the power of attorney signed already. I was about to ask how. Then I remembered. Preston was small, but it had lawyers, psychiatrists, and its own justice of the peace, a butcher, a baker, and a candlestick maker, just as Raquel had said.

There was a knock at the front door behind me. Two large shadows blocked out the porch light. I had been followed after all. I begged Raquel to listen to me, but the more I rambled about memory gaps and small-town secrets, the crazier I sounded, and I knew it. If I mentioned the creature now, that would be all the confirmation Raquel needed. I looked around helplessly for a solution. How could I convince her to leave with me?

The doorknob twisted. I was out of time. I'll come back for you, was all I said as I bolted for the porch. The two bulky orderlies who came crashing into the hallway were clearly used to patients who tried to run. They dodged the furniture with ease. I slammed the glass patio door shut to block their path. but it barely seemed to slow them down. Out of options, I vaulted over the porch railing

and into the neighbor's garden on the other side. I ran as hard as my exhausted muscles would allow. If I was caught and held in Preston for supposed mental health reasons, I'd never be allowed to leave again. Right now was my only chance at escape. The orderlies caught up to me just as I was heaving myself over the low stone wall that separated the neighbor's property from the street beyond. Bat, strong fingers closed around my ankle.

as unshakable as a shackle, and yet I kicked anyway. That reflex action was the only thing that saved me. My skin was still slick with seawater, and at some point my laces must have come undone. My shoe slipped off with a pop, and we tumbled apart. The orderly went backwards and collided with his companion, while I fell forward over the wall. I hit the sidewalk face first and tasted blood, but I didn't stop. Having grown up in the area had its advantages, I knew that what looked like a blind alley at the end of the street, actually ended in a rusted ladder leading to the bridge above.

I knew that there was a garden gate hidden between Miss Morinthal's azalea bushes. It wasn't much, but it was a start. I crouched among the dark green leaves, barely daring to breathe as I listened to the orderly's run back and forth on the street, just a few feet away from where I was squatting. If they checked in the hedge, or if Miss Morinthal noticed me, it was all over. Slowly, the orderly's footsteps grew more distant. When I stuck my head out from behind the bushes, the coast seemed clear. Cold, bleeding from my lip and missing a shoe, I limped toward the main road above Preston. I took side streets, alleys behind houses, a winding route that I barely remembered. It was not yet dawn, but people were waking up, and I was worried about being seen. Just as I'd feared,

the main road was mostly deserted this early in the morning. There were more chances that I would be spotted by a resident of Preston, then a stranger would stop for someone as battered looking as me. Blinding headlights took up my whole field of vision. To my surprise, a fishing truck rumbled to a halt. A booted foot kicked the passenger side door open. You, the driver spat angrily. You're the little shit who nearly ran me off the road the other day. There wasn't time to explain. I told the trucker that I was in some bad trouble and needed help. Yeah, you look like it. Maybe you can get a driver. living lesson while you're at it. He rolled his eyes. I guess you better climb on up.

I pulled the truck door shut behind me, wrapped up in one of the stranger's spare jackets, and let him take me far away from the town I'd once called home. Only this time, I knew that I would be back.