Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - My Sister Talks To Herself at Night

Episode Date: March 15, 2023

👕 New Dr. NoSleep Merch: DrNoSleep.com - Free shipping within the U.S. 🎉 Ad-free episodes + bonus episodes: https://www.patreon.com/drnosleep 🎧 Check out The SCP Experience podcast here: https://spoti.fi/3juM1og ✅ Send all advertising inquiries to: [e-mail] Author: John Beardify Check out more of his work Here: https://www.reddit.com/user/beardify/ New Book Release Here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09QJXLHF4 Support John and his work Here: https://www.patreon.com/johnbeardify 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

Become a part of the horror community with my Patreon, gain exclusive access to early releases and bonus content, and help me keep the terror alive. The wall between my sister Myers' room and mine is paper thin. If it wasn't, I would never have found out. I'd be safer and happier, and I wouldn't be huddled over my computer screen in the dark, terrified of what's happening on the other side of the wall.

Things didn't always used to be this way. We used to live in a big old house with a pear tree out front and plenty of space for everyone. Instead of the basement apartment the four of us are crammed into now. But that was before Maya got sick. Back then, I thought that nothing bad could happen to Maya. She was just too perfect. My sister was one of those fit, tanned, hyper-friendly girls who seemed able to participate in every sport and social event without ever running out of energy. She always seemed to know the right thing to wear or say, and she bore the burden of our immigrant parents ridiculously high expectations with a smile.

I, on the other hand, was the opposite of all those things. But as long as Maya was around, it didn't matter. No matter how discouraged or unloved I felt, I was always sure that somehow my older sister would take care of it. When Maya first got sick, we all thought she'd be better. in a week. But the week became a month, and the months stretched on into years. My parents dug our family into a pit of debt trying to save their golden child. You'll see. My mother would soothe my father while he stared, incredulous at the pile of bills on the kitchen table. It'll all be worth it when we get our Maya back. That was six years ago. And since then,

my sister has only gotten worse. It started as just a little tiredness. a little light-headedness, the way Maya's smile faded faster than it had before. As always, my sister tried to be the strong one, but the truth was that Maya was becoming weaker every day. There wasn't any one cause that the doctors could diagnose her treat. My sister was just less, like her body had an imperceptible leak from which her spirit was slowly draining. Now, my sister is 23,

and she can no longer eat or use the restroom without help. Of course, she can't walk or speak either, or so I thought, until late last night. I awoke to the creaking of the floor in my sister's room. At first I thought my father or mother was helping her out of bed, but then I heard something I hadn't heard in seven years, something that chilled my blood. I heard my sister's voice through the wall. If I could do anything, or would it be?

be. Maya used to have a loud, almost aggressive way of talking, but now her words came out in a dry rasp that sounded horribly close to my ear. Maya, I whispered back, but I don't think she heard me. She just kept on talking. If I could do anything, I think I'd walk down the street and toss my hair. I'd smile at a guy and watch his face light up. That's what I'd do first. Then I'd go shopping and buy a whole new wardrobe for all the parties my friends would host to welcome me back. Sometimes Maya would pause, as though someone else were in the room with her, and they were sharing a conversation. But that was impossible.

The whole family was already in bed. Maybe my sister is just lonely, I thought, as the strange one-sided conversation went on. I started spending more time with Maya than I usually did, hoping that talking to her a little more would help. I spent an hour or two in my sister's room every day, doing homework or reading, but I hardly ever said more than a few words to her. Maya had stopped speaking to us years ago, yet here she was, talking to herself in the middle of the night. It was unnerving to say the least. The next day, I made a point to talk to Maya more than just the usual. How are you, sis? And, love you lots. I described my day, told her a student.

stupid joke I'd heard at university and asked her opinion about what outfit I should buy. The truth was, I had no intention of going shopping anytime soon. I just thought it might lift her spirits, but Maya stayed silent as always. That silence was one of the things that made it so hard to stay in Maya's room for any length of time. There's no television, no radio, not even the ticking of a clock. We offered my sister all of those things, but she had just waved the them away with a feeble gesture of her hand. There isn't much light either. Maya keeps the blinds closed, and the only other illumination she'll tolerate comes from a tiny bedside lamp. Between the dim light and the fact that nothing in the room has changed in the past six years, sitting by my

sister's bedside feels like being inside some kind of creepy time capsule. My sister's lacrosse uniform, prom dress, and massive collection of jeans all still hang in the closet. as though they're waiting for her to get out of bed and slip them on again. Posters of her favorite bands and actors stare unblinkingly down at her where Maya lays. Eyes shut, barely breathing. The books she used to read to me are still stacked in her bookshelves, but now I read them to her. The eeriest thing about Maya's room, though,

is the fancy oval mirror hanging on the wall across from her bed. She used to say that putting her makeup on with it made her feel like a movie star, but I don't see how. Maybe it's just the gloomy light, but there's something off about how reflections look in that old mirror. Pale as she is, Maya practically glows in the dusty-looking glass. I look like a gray, insignificant shadow beside her, and the rest of the room fades away into darkness. Sometimes, though, I'd swear that I'd see something moving in there. out of the corner of my eye. That's usually when I leave Maya's room.

I tell myself I'm tired, that the bad illumination is straining my eyes, or that my sister needs to rest. But the truth is that I'm afraid of what might happen next. My parents and I have tried to change the lay out of Maya's room and take down that awful mirror, but my sister won't have it. And when she reaches out weakly,

begging us wordlessly to leave things how they are, How could we possibly reject her wishes? My friends were always jealous of me. Maya rasped through my wall on the second night, jolting me awake. It used to bother me, but now I miss it. I mean, look at me now. Who would ever want to be with me? I wish I could go out again.

I wish my old friends would see me dancing and be too stunned to speak. My muscles tensed up with fear, as Maya whispered to the darkness of, about her friends, going on about petty feuds and jealousies that had surely been long forgotten by everyone else involved. I couldn't tell which was worse, the possibility that my sister was hiding her ability to speak for some reason, or the thought that someone else who sounded like her was talking on the other side of the wall at night. If I went into my sister's room now, I wondered in horror, what would I see? As much as they disturbed me, my sister's midnight remanded. also gave me an idea about how I might be able to help her.

What if I looked up one of her old friends and asked them to visit her? I decided to start making calls the very next day. But only one of Maya's friends picked up. In the past six years hadn't been kind to Leslie McComb. From stalking her on social media, I knew that she'd gotten pregnant by her high school boyfriend, had him locked up after a domestic dispute, and started a go-fund me to pay for her terrier's life-saving.

surgery, or so she claimed. Yeah. Leslie's voice when she answered the phone was so smoke-choked and aggressive that I almost hung up. But I had Maya to consider. Hey, Leslie, you might not remember me, but maybe remember my older sister, Maya? The crunching of Cheetos and the receiver was so loud I had to hold my phone away from my head. Oh, you mean Maya from high school?

The girl with that freaky disease? My hands clenched into fists. So now my sister, who'd been the best goalie in the county, had one of the highest GPAs in her class, and had always been there when her friends, like Leslie, needed a shoulder to cry on, was suddenly just the girl with that freaky disease? I'm talking about Maya.

Maya Beredzei. Maya's gotten a lot worse since high school, Leslie. She can't talk and she barely leaves her bedroom. I was hoping if it wouldn't be too much trouble. Maybe you could come by and see her. See her? Leslie scoffed. I saw her just last night at the Red Room.

Damn, your sister's got some moves. I barely recognized her. I sat and stunned silence, sure that I'd misheard. The Red Room was a sketchy dance club on the other side of town, and my sister could barely leave her bed. What on earth was going on? Are you sure that was Maya who you saw? I finally stammered.

Yeah, she's there like every night. I think you're mistaking my sister for someone else. Maya is... Look, your big sis held my hair back while I puked in an ice cream carton at Billy Seville's party. We went to that not-so-secret swimming spot down by the quarry every summer. There isn't a chance that I wouldn't recognize Maya. In fact...

Leslie paused. Angry now. I think it's safe to say that I know Maya better than you ever will. I hung up before I could say any of the words that were burning in my own. my chest. I couldn't risk alienating Leslie. Rude as she was, if what she'd said was true, I might need her help later. As much as I hated clubs, dancing, and everything to do with them, it looked like I was going to the Red Room. The Red Room had a reputation for slees, even when our parents were young, and the decor hadn't changed much since then, badly painted crimson walls, fake chandeliers, dark wood booths that formed a circle around a scuffed-up

dance floor and mirrors everywhere. Colored lights swept through a rowdy, sweaty, packed tight crowd. Ugly as the red room was, its nearness to the university and dirt cheap drinks meant it could always count on a full house. It was after 1 a.m. when she finally showed up. I could have believed she was just a lookalike, a coincidence, a blurry vision brought on by the two-for-one cocktails I'd been throwing back all night. If she hadn't been wearing clothes from my sister's closet. I recognized the golden hoop earrings I'd bought Maya for Christmas in 2015, and the sparkling sleeveless shirt that had been the cause of so many arguments with our parents. The black jeans she wore were the same ones I'd packed away in a cardboard box, when we gave

up hope that my sister would ever wear anything but pajamas. The way she smiled, her energy, it was all Maya. Suddenly I felt like an awkward pre-teenager again, watching my popular older sister move effortlessly through a crowd, pick out a guy she liked, and effortlessly led him away to dance with her alone. But that's where the similarity ended. The longer I watched, the more wrong and twisted the sight became. The slender, mop-haired boy who Maya was dancing with began to look tired, even sick. But he kept dancing like he couldn't stop. Sweat poured down his pale forehead, and his legs trembled as he tried to follow her rhythm. Maya pressed herself, close to him, forcing him to move with her, even though he clearly didn't have the strength to

keep up. She clamped her lips onto his, and he went limp, like he was some kind of horrible, humid puppet held up only by her mouth. I had to do something. The two, or was it four, cocktails hit me like a truck the moment I left the stool. By the time I staggered across the dance floor to where the pair had been, Maya was gone. The boy stood where she'd left him, swaying like a light wind might blow him over. I grabbed his shoulder. and shook. What? Who are you?

He puked a sickening quantity of ruby red blood all over me. His eyes widened. What the fuck did you do to me? He groaned. His knees gave out. He was on all fours now, retching up something dark and hideous. More of it leaked out of his eyes. People nearby had stopped dancing.

The back of my neck prickled as more and more stairs turned toward me. Even the bored-looking bouncers on the wall had started moving. I shoved my way through the crowd and out to my car, my hands, shaking. I drove home as fast as I dared, hoping I'd beat my sister home, hoping she could give me an explanation for the insane scene I just witnessed. Maya! I flung open the door to my sister's bedroom, expecting to get her taking off her club clothes

and slipping back into bed after whatever she'd done to that boy. Instead, I found her just as I'd left her earlier that night, unmoving in her bed. With a massive effort, Maya turned her head and looked at me. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. There was no way that this girl had just spent the night dancing at the Red Room. What do you think you're doing yelling like that in here? My father's shouldered past me and ran to Maya's bedside.

He knelt beside her and turned to me. Don't you know your sister needs a rest? Who knows what all that excitement might have done to my little girl? He stroked Maya's hand. his big brown eyes full of concern. Are you drunk? My mother asked. She appeared silently behind me,

just like she always had when I was about to get in trouble. Don't tell me you drove home like that. I'm going to bed, I muttered, backing into my room and locking the door behind me. This conversation isn't over. My mother whispered through the keyhole. I was acting childish and I knew it. But the truth was that I felt guilty.

I really did wreak of the red room's cheap liquor, and Maya's eyes had filled with fear and surprise when I shouted at her. Maybe I really had made things worse, and for what? A weird hunch I had? I was laying awake, angry at myself, and wishing I could undo the whole thing when I heard my sister's voice through the wall for the third time. It felt amazing to dance again. I need a new outfit, though, something modern and stylish. I'd give anything just to go to the mall and try something on. I gulped. My throat dry from fear at the wispy, impossible sound of my sister's voice. All noise from Maya's room stopped. I could feel her suspicion from the other side of the wall. I'll be beautiful. She finally went on. I can't wait.

Rough night, my father asked the next morning. When he saw me down my fourth cup of coffee, I grunted. I was still trying to piece together what I thought I knew about Maya. One, my sister, or someone who looked just like her, was running around while she was supposedly in bed. Two, each time my sister went out, she talked up her plans to herself, or to this mystery person. Three, Maya's excursions always happened at night, and her next target would be the local mall after hours. If I could catch her in the act. Look, I, uh, lost my temper yesterday. I didn't mean to take it out on you.

I was so lost and thought that I didn't realize that my father was apologizing to me. It's just been so long since we've had any good news about Maya, and I can't stand the thought of her getting worse, or even. He didn't have to say the word, dying. It was always in the back of our minds. It's okay, I forced to smile. The tension dropped from my father's shoulders. Good. Just, uh, get out of here before your mom wakes up, yeah. It's going to take her a while

to forgive what you did. And how long would it take her to forgive what I'm doing now? I wondered to myself that night in the mall parking lot. I just called home to confirm that Maya was still in bed, apparently asleep. My mind was running so fast, but I couldn't even remember the excuse I made up for my own absence, although my parents seemed to accept it without question. Maybe they needed some space too. I thought glumly as I looked at the dark shape of the massive building ahead. I parked at a nearby apartment complex and snuck through a gap in the face to arrive here, on private property after hours. Ordinarily, the mall would be locked up tight, but since half of it was under renovation, I figured I might just be able to sneak in through the construction

area. I was right. I almost wish that I hadn't been. The unlit, half-demolished rooms and walls of semi-transparent plastic made the construction site feel like some kind of insane plague hospital. My heart was in my chest as I felt my way through the dark. What if I got caught? I doubted my family could take another tragedy. The mall was no less creepy than the construction side had been. The main lights had been powered down, and the only illumination came from emergency signs and a few gated storefronts that must have kept their lights on all night. The eyeless stairs of black-lit mannequin seemed to follow me while I hurried through the mall. I couldn't shake the feeling that someone or something was following me. Every time I stopped moving, the echoes of my footsteps

seemed to continue on just a little bit longer than they should have. I crouched in a shadowy hallway in front of Maya's favorite store and waited. There was no sound but the dripping of the power-down fountains and the rumble of machines kicking on beneath the mall. I kept expecting to turn and find some horrible thing squatting in the darkness beside me. I was considering giving up and going home, when lights suddenly came on in the store in front of me. In happier times, the posh teen clothing retailer had been Maya's favorite place to shop. Now, with its staticy pop songs playing to an audience of mannequins and vacant cash registers, it seemed far more sinister than I remembered. The gate was unlocked when I approached, but I winced at the noise it made when I lifted it.

At the time, I didn't consider how strange it was that someone had somehow entered the store without passing through it. I crept into the store. A dark figure was approaching from the dressing room corridor, coming along to the music. Maya. I dived into a circular clothing rack, grabbing the hangers to stop their rattling. It was like being a kid again, playing hide-and-seek with my older sister. Only this time the game felt deadly serious. Maya held up jeans and sweaters, checking each look before discarding anything she didn't want into a growing mountain of clothes beside her.

She tried a variety of perfumes and painted her nails hot pink with a smile, a maniac, hungry smile that didn't look right on my sister's face. I slipped my phone out of my pocket. I'd come this far for proof, and no matter how frightened I was, I wasn't going to leave without it. The next time Maya struck a pose in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror, I was ready. From my hiding spot in the clothing rack, I looked down to take the photo. But Maya didn't appear on the screen. I glanced up at the girl in front of me and backed down at my phone. Footsteps came running toward us.

I gasped and peered out the other side of the rack. Freeze! Security! A pale, scared-looking guy in a cheap-looking uniform skidded to a halt in front of the store. Hey, put your hands up and turn around. Now! The smile never left Maya's face as she lifted her arms and turned toward the mall cop. The way she twisted her body hardly seemed human, but the guard was too nervous to notice. He was busy trying to get his radio to work. No matter what channel he used to ask for backup, the radio only played the same static hip-hop music as the store's speakers.

You're trespassing on private property. I'm gonna have to take you in. Then Maya was on him. The hot pink polish of her nails sparkled as she squeezed the guard's head between her hands. His eyes went wide. He didn't have the time or the strength to resist as Maya pushed him backward toward the mirror. With one hand she touched the silvery surface, and with the other, she pushed him through it. The reflection of the store wavered, and for a second I was looking into a maze of gloomy corridors that swallowed the guard like quicksand.

The moment his fingers disappeared into the mirror, the gray hallways disappeared, and I was once again looking at my sister's reflection. Maya dusted off her hands and went back to trying on clothes. Each time she came close to the rack where I hid, I shut my eyes tight, terrified that she'd find me and push me through the mirror too. But the tightly packed dresses hid me well. By the time Maya finished, the store looked like a hurricane had hit it. With three vials of nail polish, two bottles of perfume and an armload of clothing,

my sister approached the mirror and stepped inside. I caught just a flash of the gloomy corridors and the panicking guard before the reflection wavered and returned to normal. I was alone with the eerie music, the ransacked store, and an angry voice on the mall cops radio that was asking him to report in. I got out of there as fast as I could run. I spent the misty 2 a.m. drive home trying to explain what I'd seen. But when I parked on the street in front of my parents' apartment, my thoughts were just as troubled and confused as they'd been when I left the mall. I checked nervously for signs of movement from Maya's window before I snuck inside and dragged myself to bed. I woke to a knocking on my door.

Sunlight streamed through the window. Breakfast, sleepy head, my father was saying. By the way, that was a really sweet thing you did for Maya last night. What do you mean? I felt my blood run gold. You did a great job painting your sister's nails. You even remembered how much she loves hot pink. The missing mall security guard was all over the news.

I bit my lip, wondering if anyone had seen me sneaking into the shopping center after hours. What if the cops dusted for fingerprints? Would they find mine? Armae's. There was only one way to find out for sure what was happening to my sister, but I was terrified of doing it. I actually preferred to go to a sketchy dance club and break into a mall, rather than do the one simple thing that I'd been dreading all along. spending the night in my sister's room.

Once I committed to it, though, I felt an odd sense of calm. One way or another, I was about to learn the truth about what was happening to Maya. When my father's snores finally began to echo down the hallway, I tiptoed to my sister's room.

I whispered, no movement, no response. She knows. How? Did you blam? No. The devil wears Prada too. He's the movie event 20 years in the making. Honestly, can't with the secrets anymore So I think we just, we should tell her

Will you two please spit it out already? This Friday be the first to experience it only in theaters In light of the recent scandal I'm here to restore your credibility Oh, because we're a team now That's a nice story The Devil Wares Prada 2 in Theaters Friday Welcome to Via Rai

Embarked and Profite Embarked and Celebrate Rigolet, Publié Savourer Admirate and profite. Viaray, the voice that we love. I could see a dark shape in my sister's bed. She must be asleep, I thought, or pretending to be.

As I crossed the room to the table lamp that was Maya's only source of light, another possibility occurred to me. What if that wasn't really my sister under the blankets? I reached out for the light, expecting a horrible hand to shoot out of the darkness and grab my hand. But none came. When I clicked on the tiny lamp, I saw only my sister's sleeping face, without opening her eyes, Maya sighed and turned away from the light.

What now? I had no idea. There was nothing to do but listened to the barely there, hypnotic sound of my sister's breathing, and try to stay awake. Every time I checked my phone, I was amazed by how little time it passed. I zoned out looking at my sister's possessions, preserved. in the silent room like butterflies pinned behind glass. Finally, my eyes settled on the fancy oval mirror on the wall in front of Maya's bed.

There had been a mirror in the dance club and in the store in the mall. What if I froze? Was it possible that someone or something was watching me from within that gloomy reflection? I sighed, batted my sister's hand, and pretended to stretch. I turned out the lamp. then opened and closed my sister's door, but I didn't leave the room. Instead, I pressed myself against the wall where the mirror hung, hiding myself from the view of anything inside.

The darkness seemed thick enough to cut with a knife as I waited for something, anything, to happen. After what felt like hours, the surface of the mirror began to swirl and emit a dull, silverish glow. My sister stirred and, with a tremendous, effort, pushed herself into a sitting position. In the weird light of the mirror, Maya looked like a ghost. Her eyes burned with fear and excitement, but of course, I couldn't see what she was looking at. Then, to my horror, a hand reached out of the mirror and a dark shape pulled itself

through. Maya reached weakly over and turned on her table lamp, and I was treated to a full view of the thing that had just climbed out of my sister's bedroom wall. It was like a walking reflection of Maya, and when it sat down on the bed beside her and took her hand, it made no impression on the sheets. Until that moment, the darkness had hidden me from my sister's view. Now, however, Maya was looking at me with a mixture of confusion and terror on her face. I pressed a finger to my lips, silently begging her not to alert the thing to my presence. As the thing touched her hand, my sister seemed to draw some strength from it, and I saw a sight I'd never dreamed I'd see again.

Maya opened her mouth and began to speak. I love the outfit, my sister rasped. I had a great time. Maya paused. I had to hold down a scream as the thing from the mirror leaned hungrily toward her, like it was drinking in her words. I just, I don't think I want to go out again. The thing twisted its head and made an angry sound like glass shattering.

I noticed its other hand creeping up Maya's chest. toward her neck. What happened to that man? The guard from the mall. What did you do to him? This isn't fun anymore. I realized that where the thing was touching Maya, its skin was merging with her own,

blending until I could no longer tell where my sister's body ended, and the thing from the mirror began. It was slipping her on like a suit made of skin. Stop! Maya choked. I don't want to do this anymore, please. Stop!

I fumbled for something to defend myself with. My fingers wrapped around Maya's old lacrosse stick. Against a monster, it wouldn't do much, but against a mirror. I swung it into the fancy antique on my sister's wall. As the glass cracked, the thing's head whipped around backwards toward me. Its body followed, crackling horribly as it turned. The reflection in the mirror no longer resembled Maya's room at all. On the other side of the fractured surface, I could see only those ghastly gray hallways

those decrepit silver rooms, and the half-eaten remains of a mall security guard. I felt cold, glass-like fingers on the back of my neck, pushing me towards the horrible vision in the mirror. I smashed at the fractures with a lacrosse stick. It wasn't enough. With a final scream, I grabbed the mirror's ornamental frame, curling it onto the floor, and the antique-looking glass finally shattered. The feeling of those cold fingers on my skin disappeared.

Maya stood behind me, blinking like she'd just woke. up from a bad dream. As I looked down at the shattered remains of the mirror, I realized that my sister's sickness had begun right around the time she hung it up in her room. That thing must have slipped out of her mirror each night, draining her energy until she could barely move. Then it approached her as a savior, offering Maya her energy back in return for letting it inside of her. My sister hadn't been talking to herself. She'd been talking to it. The door flew open. What is going on in here?

My father bellowed. I told you! He stopped mid-sentence when he saw my sister on her feet behind me. One hand resting on my shoulder. It had taken over six years for my mother's prediction to come true. But in the end, she was right. We finally had our Maya back. Lazzangue-surellied,

puissance-molyne, we're playing. We're like to dojo. Preet. Vive the pleasure with Leo Jo. The casino in line that proposes the more recent machines-asson-sou and the games of in direct. Profite of 50 tours

gratuys on Big Basz Bonanza. Without exigance of mis, and with payments instantane. Hey, I've gained. Woo-hoo! Sentire the pleasure. Play-O-Joe.

108 and plus, 1, 1,000 depot in Ontario. 50 tours gratu on the machine-assu Bonanza. Depos minimum

of $10. Deppoing to pay to be the money. Beyeyeye to be