Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - I'm Trapped in the World Inside My Head | Part 1

Episode Date: April 16, 2025

After the death of his mother, a grieving recluse makes a pact with a sadistic djinn to bring her back—only to be cast into a century of isolation where his mind unravels, memories distort, and the boundary between reality and madness shatters forever. Author: Jude Irons * * * EXPLICIT CONTENT DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content not limited to intense themes, strong language, and graphic depictions of violence intended for adults 18 years of age or older. These stories are NOT intended for children under the age of 18. Parental guidance is strongly advised for children under the age of 18. Listener discretion is advised. #drnosleep #scarystories #horrorstories #doctornosleep #truescarystories #horrorpodcast #horror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

28 years, four months, 13 days, and 11 hours. That was my age at the moment mom left the world and me behind. I had been staying in the apartment and commuting to the hospital, but I couldn't bring myself to stay nights. So I was not there when mom took her final breath. I didn't hear her last words. Maybe she would have whispered, It'll be okay, Michael.

The doctors told me she passed peacefully in her sleep. The ringing in my ears drowned out their assurances. After she was gone, I did the same thing I always had. I hid. My only company was her voice, which called out to me in my mind. Sometimes, the voice apologized for leaving me behind, or it would berate me for abandoning her. She wasn't alone.

Other times, it would be dead. He would slur like he used to after a couple of six-packs. and shout the hateful shit I grew up with. I was 29 and huddled up in my dark apartment. Maybe out of grief, I obsessed over finding some way to bring mom back. It may sound irrational, but her death left me with no other solutions but the supernatural. In a fugue state, I dug through the deep web and old abandoned forums. I had spilled litters of my blood throughout that year of rituals.

seeing the dark red liquid flow from my body calmed me. Her lingering voice, buried in my thoughts, urged me to look deeper. Through many ceremonies, I recognized tell-tale tugs that connected me to the paranormal. Those little signs kept me going. They were fate admitting its mistake. I had dug so deep on the internet, I was sure I'd hit a dead end soon. But, after one late night of sifting through dead links, buried like to bellows. long ago and archived, I found the key to what I'd been looking for.

The form began with an image of a stone tablet with ancient Arabic writing. The original poster had requested a translation of his tablet from a fringe linguistics community. He said he found this tablet, buried in the sand on an excavation mission in the Middle East. He felt a strange draw to it and believed it chose him, so he hid his discovery from his team. After some debate in the forum, they settled on it being a method for summoning a gin. Legend said the creature would grant any wish for an appropriate price. After stating he'd try the ritual himself, the original poster disappeared, never appearing on the forum again.

Nobody else had the stomach for it, especially when it asked for a flesh sacrifice. But I knew there was something different about this summoning. Some force I could to comprehend guided me, and I wouldn't miss the chance. First, the ritual required a letter with request. Next, the Summoner had to mark the letter with their blood and wrap an offering inside. Finally, it had to be placed on the ground and burned. Just reading all of this, I felt an energetic build-up in my room. It was dangerous, but the static was just as exciting. I grabbed some paper and scrawled out my wish. Give her back to me.

I don't care if you have to steal her from heaven. Save her. I'll give you my blood and body. Come, demon. Name your price. I tried in vain to stifle my screams as I saw it off a section of my ear with a dull steak knife. Through tears, I cut a deep gash on my palm, a fresh addition to my ever-growing collection of scars.

The blood dripped onto the unceremonious graph paper. The spark from the bick lighter engulfed the letter and its contents instantly. It disappeared into a blue fireball, vanishing before my wide eyes. The blast knocked me to the ground, blowing me backwards, and the shock loosened my bodily senses. I pulled myself to my feet, whipping my head around the room for a sign of the ritual's success. My body shivered in the frightening cold that swept through my apartment. Pure silence engulfed the world. The tension was so thick that I trembled, teeth grinding together.

Where is it? I thought. Holy shit. Did it work? With the lights off, my sight was useless, and the clock's ticking echoed painfully against my sensitive ears. I got up to find the switch. My legs were jelly. I shook and collapsed every few feet. The room was infinite. I wasn't trapped in a box.

It was more like a vast, lifeless void. My ears rang louder and louder, and my heart hammered. My animalistic brain shrieked warnings of imminent danger. After a veritable lifetime of crawling around aimlessly, I found a wall and leaned against it. It's going to kill me. I fucked up, didn't I? I thought. Jin! Where are you? I called you to serve me. I shrieked into the darkness.

My warbly voice was met with more oppressive. silence. What if I just pissed it off? I wondered. I thought coincidence was the answer, but I was pathetic. Who was I fooling? Definitely not a gin. The seconds passed on, but they may as well have been decades. Was it a fluke? Did the gin not fully cross over? I thought. Finally, I heard something. A meandering whistle that filled the void with its unsettling melody. Then, a chuckle. Through the impenetrable darkness, I heard it speak. Hello, so afraid, but why? The whispery voice settled around me, like it was coming from right over my shoulder.

I read your letter. What a shame it was to lose your mother. Why don't you give me your broken heart? I'll fix it, the demon added, a hunger clear in its voice. I whipped my head around the room, but as it spoke, the voice echoed first behind me, then in front, then reverberated like I was in a cave. You've piqued my interest. I want more. I want to see you suffer. The Jen's voice lowered to a growl. You're so close already, but I want to see what it takes to break you. Its voice wavered between

gruff, deep tones to higher-pitched, lelting speech. Two glowing eyes like high beams opened a few yards from me, or maybe a few miles away, and light flooded back into the room. It had simple but alluring androgynous features, with black hair down to the ground. It was very tall and thin, and wore a white three-piece suit. Its eyes shined like the bulb of an anglerfish. The gin's grin was too long. It stretched up into its cheekbones, and its sharpened fangs poked from the toothy smirk. I didn't know what to expect. But the demon's aura sent my skin crawling and crushed me to the floor. The pressure made me vomit.

It strolled closer to me, the infinite distance shrinking. Once it stood just a few feet away from me, it stared down at my trembling body like prey. I couldn't break away. Please stop, I squealed. No, Michael, my fun is just beginning. Its mouth opened, unhinged, like it was going to devour me. Its breath was hot and wet. It drew closer.

I knew that my head would fit snugly in its jaws before being ripped off my neck. Its long, pale fingers caressed the bloody stump that was once my ear. Explain to me, Michael, what you want, and I will tell you what I will take from you. The gin whispered to me, its mouth a few inches from the remains of my right ear. The gin backed away from me, twirling on its heel before finding. finding a seat on my tattered sofa. What? Not going to ask if I want to drink?

It sounded amused, which I figured was best for my safety. So I needed to keep it that way. I was too captivated to speak for a long moment, leaving me gawking with my mouth open. I don't tolerate waiting for long. Its voice darkened, and its eyes shone brighter. Every second brought me closer to being ripped to shreds. Michael, put the tea on now.

I was scared shitless. How could it expect hospitality? I pulled myself to my feet with incredible effort and darted out of the room. When I boiled the water in my kettle, I spilled a bit of my hand and nearly dropped the entire thing. The gin laughed at the show from the couch and crossed one leg over the other. Tell me about your mother, Michael. Even while sitting, I could nearly meet its eyes. Sit, it demanded.

A chair appeared from nowhere and landed behind me. I lost my balance and stumbled into it. While I caught my breath, the gin was already tapping its foot and resting its fist on its chin, clearly bored. Picture this. It's late at night. You're scrolling, and suddenly you find exactly what you've been looking for. You add it to your cart, maybe browse a little more, than head to checkout, only to realize you don't have your...

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with Shopify and their shop pay button. Sign up for your $1 per month trial today at Shopify.com slash DNS. Go to Shopify.com slash DNS. That's Shopify.com slash DNS. I cleared my throat and found my voice. She was the most important person in my life. I tripped over my words. Dad always screamed at me when I stuttered.

Even when I was an adult. I couldn't forget cowering every time I flubbed anything. Mom was my only friend. My only family, too. Without her, I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I rambled. Having to dredge it all up always threw me off. The world is so loud.

Too many people. Too many things. I can't take it. I hit my forehead. as if to reset myself. Mom never gave up on me. She yelled me when I cried and made the bad things disappear. The bad people.

The kettle whistled loudly, causing me to jump. The tea is ready. Will you keep rattling on, or will you make me a cup? The gin interrupted. I'm so sorry. I'll be right back. Its gaze followed me, and a sadistic smile right under those eyes made my skin growl.

I brought the gin's tea. It stood. and closed our distance as I entered the room. Put the tea down over there. It gestured to an end table. Your backstory already bored me. It paused for dramatic effect. I can create a divergence in reality.

As real as this one. Just for you. Where your mom will be alive and healthy. Is that what you desire? Yes or no? The gin drummed his fingers. The cup of tea on the end table steamed. But the gin had no interest.

in it. It never cared about the tea, did it? I thought miserably. What does that mean? How would... My chest tightened as it put a sharp finger to my throat. Yes or no, Michael. What about that did you not understand?

It snarled. I understand. I do. I held my hands up in surrender. But my body shook so much that it was hard to stay in that position. The gin smirked and withdrew its claw. Yes, that's exactly what I want. I replied. As much as I feared for my life, the glimmer of hope kept me from collapsing on the spot.

If I could have mom back, it would all be worth it. There will be a cost, and it will certainly be steep. How about your life, hmm? Are you willing to die for your precious mother? The Jen's nasty grin was widening. You love her, don't you? You owe her everything, don't you? His face drew closer to mine. Well... My face went pale.

Mom was my world. I thought I was prepared to give anything for her. But, with death inches from my face, I realized what a coward I really was. No matter how awful life was, no matter how much I suffered, I was too afraid to die. If I sacrificed my life to save moms,

I wouldn't even be around to be by her side. So what would be the point? I couldn't give my life, even for her. Mom would have understood. She always put me first. I couldn't live without her, so she shouldn't be able to live without me. It's only fair, right? I can't give my life, anything but that. I hit my face in shame. My tears welled up, and as much as I tried, I lost all composure.

My legs gave out, but I collapsed. Before hitting the ground, some invisible force caught me, holding my body in place. The gin stood high over me with that awful grin plastered on its face. I had begged you as a coward the moment I laid eyes on you, but you've exceeded my expectations. Bravo, it chided. Well, your life never particularly interested me. I'm more curious about that little mind of yours. The gin placed one finger on my forehead.

What do you mean my mind? I asked. The gin's nail dug into my skin, but not enough to draw blood. Well, Michael, I have grown on my head. old. I have seen thousands of humans live and die, but my curiosity has yet to be satiated. I enjoy humans. You're full of endless possibilities. The gin glided into the middle of the room. Its arms spread wide like a seasoned ringmaster. It moved with no mistakes, nothing wasted. As I don't have one myself, save for my jars on a shelf in the office, I know too little about the human brain.

I want to take it, stretch it, and mold it. I want to pull the threads of sanity to the absolute limit. The gin had a wistful look about it. My past subject snapped. They are now useless carcasses, filling hospital spaces, their catatonic bodies being spoon-fed slop. You, Michael, have something different. It held out its hand.

Join me in a little experiment. That is all I ask. I flinched as his hand. drew closer to me. How am I different? And what kind of experiment? I braced myself. What would set the creature off?

I knew it wasn't fond of questions. So I kept my gaze on the floor, hiding from those blinding eyes. Firstly, how should I put it? You're the perfect type of pathetic. Secondly, it's quite simple, really. I want to test your mental fortitude to find the human limit.

I want to isolate you, Michael. isolate you so completely that this world will be a distant dream. You will remain in your solitude for what will feel like 100 years. Not a second will have passed out here. The Jin's pace picked up with excitement at the prospect of my situation. If you give up before the time is up, you will never see Mom again, and, of course, you will pay for wasting my time. Believe me, you will wish I had killed you. It held out a big but delicate hand.

Do we have a deal? It never dropped that nightmarish smile. There wasn't enough information, and I couldn't trust the gin. I didn't think it would lie to me. From what I remembered for my research, their kind never lied. But it spoke in half-truths and withheld information. It wasn't a game I could win. As much of a risk as it was, I needed to ask more.

Will I? I started. The gin put a finger to its lips, and it stole my voice. No more questions, Michael. I will not physically harm you, and all you have to do is stay in the space I create for you. I will not sabotage you. The whole purpose of this is to gain knowledge.

I would not ruin that. The gin was becoming impatient once again. This is your last chance to back out, with consequences, of course. But you wouldn't do that, Michael. Shake. The gin practiced. growled. The hand would swallow mine. It would crush it to bits, break my bones to tiny shards, and its promises could steal my soul. Even knowing all of this, I couldn't deny the spark of hope

in my chest. If I took the gin's deal and succeeded, I would have my life back. If I failed, I would probably be tortured or enslaved or some equally horrible outcome. If I back out now, I could live out my miserable existence until I begged for death, too cowardly to end my own life. The consequence of not trying was just as bad as that of trying and failing. I had nothing to lose, right? I put my trembling hand to its cold, smooth skin. The gin's massive fingers swallowed up my own as we shook on the deal. Well, Michael, welcome to a century of nothingness.

Good luck. You might find solid. to be a friend. You may also find it a torturous burden. See you in 100 years, it said and released my hand. The gin stepped to the center of the room and held out an arm. A plain white door rose from the floor. The gin's eyes shone until all I could see was yellow light. Go on ahead, Michael, it ordered. The door swung open, and I stood before the darkness on the other side. Before I could step through, the gin put a hand on my back and pushed me, sending me stumbling over the threshold. I screamed when I lost my balance. As I plummeted into the void,

the gin waved at me while growing smaller and smaller until it disappeared. I fell for hours. Eventually, my descent halted, and I hit the floor. I was in a flawlessly white space. The Jin had dressed me in simple, loose clothing that I could not pry off despite every effort. The floor had no friction whatsoever. My attempts to get up led to falling, not that I could feel the impact. There was no bed, bathroom, and nothing in the room besides the spotless walls, floor, and ceiling, save for a single object on a simple shelf out of reach. In hourglass, the size of my body trickled sand at a snail's pace.

What must have been one grain a minute. I scooted across the floor until I was up against the smooth, slick walls. The first day of my new life began. Day one. I spent most of the day acclimating to my new environment. My brain couldn't make sense of the experience. There was no smell, no sound, no shadows, temperature, nothing. That one is the hardest to explain.

But it was neither hot nor. cold, just the temperature that didn't register with my brain. I had an initial panic about the feeling of being so wholly trapped, but this loneliness wasn't new to me. I lived almost my entire life in a few hundred square feet and didn't want it any other way. My brain was built for solitude. I had been training for this my entire life, but I soon learned that this kind of isolation was different.

I was used to entertainment, food, and other bodily needs. This? This place had no external stimulation. Just my mind. I was trapped alone with the thoughts I spent a lifetime hiding from. What if the gin was lying? I thought. What if I never make it out of here?

My mind raced faster. What if I'm dead? What if meeting the gin was a dream? More and more disastrous outcomes reared their ugly heads. I'm not going to move. make it. But if I quit, who knows what it will do to me? I sat against the wall. I may not have had a heartbeat, but my mind was scrambling. It had only been one day, but the cracks already showed. The hourglass was no help. It only held a few grains of sand so far, and I couldn't track time.

There was a century ahead of me, a lifetime. How could I possibly hold on that long? Whenever I wanted to quit, I saw the gin's teeth ripping me apart and mom's corpse rotting under the ground. So, I gritted my teeth, clenched my fists, and watched the grains trickle to the bottom of the hourglass, one by one. Day 30? What was I at? Two million? I had been counting since the first day without stopping for a second. The constant stream of numbers in my head kept the flood of thoughts and fears at bay.

Eventually, the number stopped coming to me. In the vast silence, screams from nobody filled my ears. I heard voices, remnants of my past and warnings for the future. It hurts, Michael. Can we go home? I don't want to be here anymore. A child told me, my eight-year-old self. Where's mom? We need mom. She'll know what to do. My older self berated me for my stupidity with an apathetic mimicry. You deserve it.

this. You literally asked for it. What do you have to complain about? You couldn't protect mom from dad. You couldn't keep her alive. You're as helpless as ever here. Do you really trust that monster that brought you here? Mom spoke to me too. She begged me to quit. Michael, you've always been so gentle. This kind of place isn't right for you. She cried. I miss you so much. You wouldn't believe it. I needed you as much as you needed me. tears streamed down her imaginary face. It was always you and me. Until your father was taken away, we only had each other.

I'll always love you. He don't need to hurt yourself for me. Dad told me to grow up. Look at you. Weak as ever. I tried to make you presentable. But you never had it in you. You still don't.

Go ahead. Be miserable for the next hundred years. Maybe you'll get your bitch of a mom back. I don't care. Dad shouted. Where did I go wrong? How did you become so pathetic? Dad's voice drowned out everything else.

No matter how much I chewed, my fingernails wouldn't tear off. So I rocked myself back and forth while gnawing at my numb hands and arms. It made me feel so guilty and so small. There was nothing and nobody to save me. All I had were my thoughts. That was hell. Not fire and torture, but my own company. The tattered threat of my sanity threatened to snap.

So I made a decision. If I were trapped away from the real world, I would make my own, all within the confines of my head. This crazy swirl of voices was cruel, and I could do better. Maybe it was delusional, but I might as well do something. Year? Day? In my beautiful neighborhood with my kind, caring neighbors, I took my morning walk like every day for the past decade. The sun was shining, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. I strolled down my block with a spring in my step.

My place was a bit shabby, but it had a real charm to it. I bought it cheap and fixed it up myself. I took pride in my little abode. I had finished my morning calisthenics and was off to work. I made it to the office right on time. Ruth, a larger black woman with a gentle smile, placed a stack of folders on my desk. Ruth leaned down to my level and said,

Today's case is, sweetheart. She put her hand on mine. You work harder than anyone, Michael. If you ever need some rest, I can pick up the slack. She frowned and patted my shoulder. I appreciated her care for me. But things had changed since I began my life in that town. I took care of myself, and I supported my friends.

Don't worry, I assured her. I haven't worked a day since I got here. Nothing in my life has ever been more fulfilling, I beamed. The folders on my desk show displaced, children in the area. It was my job to find homes for the kiddos. That was my calling. Seeing their smiles as a happy family picked them up, healed my broken heart. For many years, I served my community. I received smiles and hugs. I held warm little hands and guided them to a full life of love I never had. But all good things had to end. For the past year, little things had

gone wrong. That day, it came to a head. I picked up the cases and clapped them against the desk. One folder slipped out of the pile and onto the floor. I went to pick it up and froze when I saw the face on the file. There was a photo of myself at 13 years old. It said both my parents were dead. One killed in prison, the other by cancer. The folder slipped out of my trembling hand. Ruth? I barely got my words out. What the hell is this? Oh, a real sad case, that one. The dad was a heavy drinker and an angry drunk.

He'd beat his wife black and blue. One day, he got on a bar fight, killed some poor guy and was locked up for life. There's no way, I muttered. Ruth continued. That's how it goes. Anyway, he was stabbed a few years later in his cell. The worst part is that his wife died of cancer around the same time,

leaving the poor kid alone. He's an orphan living in the system now. She paused before revealing more. He won't speak, they say. Some kind of trauma. I put the folder in front of her face. It's me, Ruth. Why? It's me!

I needed to compose myself. The focus that kept everything together was slipping. What do you mean, dear? You're right here with me. She took another peek at the folder. It says Ezekiel Jacobson. Michael, are you okay? If you need some rest, please don't force yourself.

Sure enough, my face was gone from the folder. The sky flickered outside. The network of threads holding this reality together showed in my mind's eye. I wove the sky back together. I walked out of the building, my head on a swivel. Hiya, Michael! Jonathan called out to me. An older German man, Jonathan was on break from doing his little odd jobs.

He was kind, as good with a hammer as he was at giving solid advice. Are you okay, bud? You look a bit pale. I'm fine, Johnny. Just having a bit of a day, that's all. I couldn't keep my eyes on him. There could have been inconsistencies or contaminations. Okay, pal. Listen, if you need anything, I'm here for you. He placed a hand on my shoulder. You know, Michael, I never had a son myself. But if I did, I would have to be. have been proud if he was half the man you are. He smiled and said the exact words I needed to hear.

Yeah, thanks. We met eyes, but far behind, just barely visible. I saw my dad walk out of a building. He caught me with a scornful glare before disappearing, gone as quickly as he came. The sky rattled when I caught sight of him. My vision swam, and I nearly collapsed. I couldn't even feel rage after all those years. All that washed over me was fear. Some things never change. Dad wasn't welcome. He was a glitch in the system. How did he break through? How could I keep him out for good? My world was out of focus and my consciousness shook. An inky blackness swallowed the sky. Once again, I dove into the structure of the world. Something was breaking and letting the pain in, and too much pain would tear the whole thing apart. Every time my mind,

concentration slipped just the slightest bit I'd lose something else I found it the dam holding back the memories of reality holes and leaks had formed causing tears in the narrative I wrote for myself I patched it quickly but more cracks appeared as quickly as I patched it was time to increase my diligence and focus on my life in my new world I didn't know how many more disturbances my world could handle before it collapsed I tried to push through the next few days but the dialogue was strange and the narratives were incoherent heavy rocks blocked my stream of consciousness and more little reminders pulled me back into the ocean of trauma that i had built my world on top of

it took a while but i slipped into my routine once again