Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - Insomnia

Episode Date: August 5, 2022

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

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Talk to nicely. Dick, laughing at my inability to rest. I hadn't slept for more than a few minutes at a time in weeks. Ever since. The accident. I watched the second hand creep around the fifth. of the clock. It was slowly racing towards my dew. I was almost sure of it. The sunrise cast shadows through the blinds. I sighed in defeat and stood from the bed, rubbing the sting of insomnia

from my eyes. The hardwood creaked in protest as I crossed the bedroom and into the hall. But just as I was about to enter the bathroom, I heard a clattering of dishes coming from the kitchen. I froze in place, my mouth went as dry as cotton. The savory smell of bacon frying in the pan wafted into my nostrils, causing my mouth to water. Then, another clatter of porcelain and the sound of the faucet running in the sink. What in God's name? I tiptoed to the top of the staircase. My heart was pounding so hard. It threatened to burst through my rib gauge. Humming, it sounded just like. I scrambled down the stairs, nearly sprawling into the foyer, and they leapt into the kitchen

on wobbly knees. There was nothing. No running water, no dishes, no bacon. I rubbed my temples, hearing things, just a memory maybe. Had to be from the lack of sleep. I ascended the stairs, shoulders hunched and stomach still growling from the the smell of the phantom pork. I stripped off my pajamas, turned the knobs to the shower, and emerged myself in the warmth. The hot water offered some relief to the tension that haunted me.

I allowed my mind to drift off to thoughts of her as I scrubbed my scalp with shampoo and conditioner. Images of Emma twirling in a sundress played like a silent film in my head. Her smile her eyes, nearly crinkling them shut, stands across a full face of laughter. As she beckoned me to follow her with her hands outstretched. Bang! Something heavy smacked the tiled floor of the bathroom. Hello? Desperately clawing at the soap on my face so that I could see.

Humming. I could hear the faint humming of a hymn over the water. Her favorite hymn. I quickly submerged my face under the shower head, then wiped the water from my eyes, just in time to see the shadow of a hand start to pull back the shower curtain. Impossibly long fingers danced like a tarantula in the silhouette. I tried to shout, to scream, but the air was caught in my diaphragm. A squeak was all that I could manage.

The frail squeak of a rodent escaped my mouth as a blackened claw gripped at the yellow fabric. Muddy fingernails clutched at the curtain and then with a mighty pull they slid to the side revealing nothing but steam filled the room of fingernails like daggers. No haunting apparition. I gasped in disbelief covering my mouth with my palm. What was happening to me was I finally losing it. I knew deep down that I deserved this. I deserved it after what I had done. Just as I began to sob into my hands, I heard a boisterous knocking from the front door.

I quickly turned off the water and dried myself. There was more knocking as I scrambled to throw on some clothes. I raced downstairs. The door shook in its frame. Coming! I shouted to the peephole. My heart sunk into the pit of my stomach. It was the did.

Detective. He knows, I thought. But how could he know? If he did, I'd already be behind bars. Get it together, Eddie. I sculpted myself, lightly smacking my cheeks. With the sting of the slaps, I was able to summon a little resolve. After a deep breath, I flung open the door. Oh, hello, I said. Good morning, Mr. Vance. Is this a good time? He asked. His mustache twitching like a broom. Oh, sure, sure.

Won't you come in? I tried my best to sound warm and welcoming. The detective smiled and stepped through the doorway. His wide shoulders barely clearing the frame. He was short, but incredibly thick and stocky, built like a bricklayer from an old masonry outfit. I don't mean to it. intrude unnecessarily. I know it's been a very hard time for you after the disappearance of your

wife. He said, no, you are welcome any time. Have you, have you heard anything new about my wife's whereabouts? Any leads on where she might be? I asked, desperate to sound genuine. Unfortunately, no. These things do take time, Mr. Vance, and I assure you, we are giving our best efforts. But Something is troubling me. He huffed as he plopped into one of my rocking chairs. What's that? Well, by now I typically have a lead. Something to go on.

And something just isn't adding up. Could we go over the details one more time leading up to your wife's disappearance? Panic streaked across my skull like lightning. And I think he could see it in my expression. He furrowed his eyebrows, suspiciously studying me with his gaze. What's left to say? I've told you everything.

It's detailed in my statement. You can reread it as many times as you need to down at the station. Yes. But I feel as if I'm missing something. A piece to the puzzle that I need in order to find Mrs. Vance. I shuffled my feet nervously, and he caught that too. I was under his microscope. Pins and needles broke into goose flesh across my body.

I didn't like being studied this closely. Not about her. Not while I had so much guilt. I have nothing left to say. We've already gone over the details twice before now. It was a normal Monday. I left for work. Kissed Emma goodbye after she handed me my lunch.

And then when I got home, she was just gone. No note? Nothing. I threw my hands up, exasperated. I'd gone over the story a million times in my mind. But repeating it made me feel dirty, slimy even. It really was an accident. Was she happy?

He asked. Who? Emma? I choked. Startled at the unusual question. He nodded. Yes, she was happy. We were both. Both happy. Everything was perfect. We were...we were wanting to start a family together.

We were trying. Tears rolled down my face and I couldn't stop them. We were really happy. It was an accident. I'm sorry, Mr. Vance. I didn't mean to upset you. He apologized, standing from his seat. It's fine. I just don't understand. And that part was true. I didn't understand why any of this had to happen. Let's talk another time.

I'll stop by in a couple of days and we can discuss it further. He potted my shoulder with his massive paw. Okay. I'll go speak with her mother again this evening. See if maybe I missed something there. I nodded as we crossed the living room towards the front door. We were almost there when he stopped suddenly. You said it was just a normal Monday and you went to work, right, Mr. Vance?

Uh, yes, that's right. Why? Well, in my notes, I have it as Monday, May 30th, which was Memorial Day. You worked on Memorial Day? My stomach did a flip in my abdomen. I had forgotten about the holiday when I made up the story. No one had caught it, though. Not until now. Ah, yeah. my boss is a real piece of work.

Needed some lines adjusted on the production floor. A real pain in the ass. But they couldn't complain too much about making triple time. It was the best lie I could come up with on the spot. I see. And your boss can confirm that story? He eyed me inquisitively. I don't know what you're insinuating detective, but yes, he can.

I replied sharply. feigning astonishment while I was actually screaming in terror on the inside. All right, Mr. Vance. I didn't mean anything by it. I just want to make sure I have all the facts straight so that I can find your wife. That's what's important, right? Making sure she gets home safe. He smiled and shook my hand at the threshold of my home. His huge mittens wrapping around mine.

Yes, sir. That's what I want. than anything. See you in a couple of days, Mr. Vance. Get some rest. You look tired. We'll do. Thank you, Detective. We exchanged waves as he pulled out of the driveway in his unmarked police car.

I sighed after shutting the door and slid my body down to sit on the floor. I wept over my knees, sobbing so hard that I thought I'd empty my stomach. But there was no food to vomit. My appetite and sleep were remnants of a past life, a life that had Emma in it. I rolled to my side to lay on the floor, curling my knees upward into the fetal position. The cool touch of the hardwood felt nice against my cheek. Exhaustion took hold, and I slipped in and out of sleep for the next 45 minutes. I was awakened by my stomach grumbling loudly.

I guess I was wrong about the rest. The zero appetite, it had been two days since I'd really eaten anything. The hunger washed over me in a wave of nausea. I struggled to my feet and shambled into the kitchen. My head swammed as I opened the fridge. The shelves were almost bare, except for half a pie and a few oranges. I pulled out the pie and set it on the counter. It was rhubarb, fresh from the garden, Emma's favorite to make. I inspected it closely. No mold to be seen.

I cut myself a slice and put it on a paper plate and took it into the den. I plopped down in the recliner, and after a minute of hesitation, I gave myself permission to eat. I devoured the pie feverishly. It was both bitter and sweet at the same time. The crust was still flaky and delicious. She had always made the best pies. Just as I was getting close to finishing it, I felt a tickle in my throat.

I started to cough, then choke and gagged. The pie threatened to close off my windpipe. I panicked and dropped the remnants on the floor and crawled on all fours across the carpet. Packing and wheezing, I clawed at my neck and then shoved my fingers down my throat. I gagged as I pinched at the block. I pulled at the thread in my esophagus and dry heaved as the debris gave way. A large cluster of blonde hair emerged from my mouth. Hair as golden as wheat in the field.

It was her hair. Emma's hair. I cried and cried and then peeped into the snake plant by the fireplace. I emptied my guts. Emma, I'm so sorry. I pleaded. I threw my hands up towards heaven and cried. out to God, demanding to know why this had to happen, why she had to be taken away from me.

As I wept, I heard a thunder of footsteps from upstairs. Someone ran through the hallway and into my bedroom. I jumped to my feet, startled. My heart thundered once more as I listened. Eddie? A voice as warm as honey called from the top of the steps. Emma, Emma, is that you? I tried to run, but tripped over weak legs like a baby deer, busting my shins on the mantle. Why? Why did you kill me, Eddie? The voice echoed off the walls, reverberating like a curse. I'm so sorry, honey. I didn't mean to, I cried, scrambling off the floor.

I'm burning, Eddie. I'm in hell. And soon you will be too. The voice turned malicious, cackling like mad. No, please no, I begged. Blood began to fall from the ceiling and down the dry wall. Thick viscous fluid pooled around the soles of my feet, sticky and warm, saturating the carpet. It's not real, it's not real, it's not real. Oh, Eddie, we're going to burn together, don't you see?

We all burned down here. The footsteps grew closer to the foyer as the blood rose. I squeezed my eyelids shut in hopes to remove the vision from my sight. The cool laughter reverberated throughout my skull, threatening to rip my brain in two. I prayed, I screamed, I chanted. I felt the warmth of the blood rise up to my waist, creeping into the creases and folds of my pants. It's not real!

I bellowed as loud as I could and opened my eyes. But there was nothing. No sound, no blood, nothing. Why? I mouth. More tears streaming down my face. I wasn't sure what was happening. But I knew now that God had forsaken me. That punishment for my sins was being doled out, and that I deserved every bit of it. I spent the next several hours. I spent the next several hours, I was cleaning. I didn't know what else to do. I just needed to keep my hands busy. It was therapeutic and something I had been putting off for weeks. It was something to keep my mind silent as I scrubbed the crown molding and floorboards with sponges, mopping the hard woods and vacuuming the carpet.

I even repainted the guest bedroom downstairs to a lovely shade of violet, her favorite color. anything to keep me preoccupied. By the time I was done, the sun had set over the hill. My muscles twitched and my joints ached. I felt so weary, so tired that I could feel it in my bones. I stumbled up the stairs and threw on some fresh clothes and climbed into bed. I felt more tired than I ever had, and yet I lay awake, staring at the popcorn plaster. ceiling. Tick-tock, tick. Why couldn't I just sleep? Was Emma really in hell? Tick, tick. Images of her engulfed in fire filled my mind. Her flesh melted like candlewax as the flames flickered around her face. Tick-talk, tick-tock. She cried out to me,

begging me to stop as the fire melted the sinewy fibers around her eye sockets. Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick like jelly from the pressure of the heat and rolled down her cheekbones. No! I screamed, jumping from the bed. I ripped the clock from the wall and bashed it on the floor over and over again until it was in pieces. Shards of glass and ribbons of decorative plastic littered the floor. But finally, the Tick-Tock was silent. I breathed heavily. my gasps for air the only sound now in the quiet room. I giggled under my breath in relief, in ecstasy, over finally being done with the mocking of the clock. I rolled my head lazily to the side of my shoulder

to see a shadowy figure in the doorway. I screamed in surprise and pushed myself into the corner of the bedroom. It was her, a version of Emma from my nightmare. Her shoulder blades cracked and rolled back as her elbows pointed in impossible angles. Hands broken and spread like deciduous branches. She lowered herself on all fours in a breach position. She scurried like a devilish crab towards me, causing me to piss myself. Urin gathered in a puddle at the end of my punt leg as she came to hover over me.

Her impossibly large eyes gazed into mine. They were black, no longer blue. and a thick purple syrup ran from her mouth, staining her tea. She whispered heart. I tried to swallow but couldn't. What? I managed to croak out. Come to the garden, Eddie.

I have something to show you. I broke down and wept. I couldn't look at her anymore. I couldn't look at what she had become. My eyes and cried until a rumble of thunder shook the foundation of the house. Before I had time to process what had happened, heavy rain pelted the roof in sheets. It was deafening. Lightning struck the ground outside and illuminated the empty room.

I scrambled to my feet and raced down the stairs. I tore through the house like a madman, pausing at the sliding glass door. Lightning flashed in the backyard again, glowing against the rose bushes at the edge of the garden. As the thunder roared like a lion. I slid it open and ran through the backyard. My pajamas almost instantly soaked by the downpour. Sprinting to the garden, I narrowly missed another lightning strike. The electricity traveled through the sores of my feet.

A coppery taste rolled across my tongue. I reached the garden. The tomato plants and corn that Emma had planted swayed in the storm violently. Pools of water gathered in the mud, deeper as it raged on. I clawed my hands into the mud, ripping it away in chunks. I dug and dug through the garden soil. An hour went by as I threw clay behind me. I was a man possessed by purpose,

muscles burning through the sheer wheel of my crazed mind. Suddenly, pale legs appeared in the earth. Worms spun in and out of the holes in her calves and thighs, devouring them like Swiss cheese. I dug deeper. revealing more and more of a halfway decomposed body until I exhumed the love of my life from the recesses of the earth. Beatles scurried out from the paws of her face. Her blue eyes were empty and no more.

The sockets burrowed out and hollow. A centipede curled out from her nasal cavity. I wept with her in my arms as the storm seethed around me. She was so light, a shell of her former cell. I kissed the protruding cheekbone on her face. The smell of rot filled my nose. I'm so sorry, Emma, I whispered into half an ear. I screamed out angrily as lightning and thunder rang out above.

I reached into my pocket and rubbed the pearl handle of my 38 revolver as I looked into what was left of her face. I cried and begged forgiveness over and over until finally putting the barrel into my mouth. Eddie, that's enough. A gruff voice pierced through the wind. Put the gun down, Mr. Vance, right now. Detective Morrow bellowed.

It was an accident. I cried out, slowly dropping the gun into the mud. He holstered his sidearm and seized my wrists, pulling me away from Emma. I resisted against him, but it was no use. I was too weak and feeble. It was an accident. Don't you believe me? I choked. Lightning flash, illuminating the hardened face of the officer.

You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you. He gave his spiel as he escorted me through the flooded yard. My mind went blank. A static of white noise filled the space between my ears for a long time. I hardly noticed the 18-minute car ride to the police state. They booked me and I didn't say a word. I remember the detective telling them I was in shock.

I didn't feel in shock. It just felt nothing. I laid on the cot in the cell. Tick, talk, tick, tick. I think I was finally ready to sleep. Tick, doc, tick. As I drifted off to sleep, it started to get incredibly hot.

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