Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - Pt. 1 - I’m afraid my 7-year-old son might kill me in my sleep

Episode Date: February 6, 2023

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Before this next story, I'd like to say thank you to my new patrons Joggin the Jotten, Tammy, and Nicholas. If you'd like to support the podcast, go to patreon.com slash DR No Sleep. The link is also in the description below. I stood next to the well in the dark. The wind stirred the papery leaves on the corn stalks, creating a sound like two sheets of sandpaper rubbing together. It was a sound I'd long ago grown used to. But it did nothing to mask the whimpering coming from the old well.

I stood there for what seemed like a long time, just staring at the dark hole created by the circle of stone and mortar. My little brother's voice came from inside the house, calling out a name. A violent shiver caused me to convulse. A light came on in a window behind me, spilling out onto the nearby dirt in a glowing rectangle. My brother called the name again, this time with more urgency. I stepped closer to the edge of the well and bent at the waist to look down.

The whimpering grew louder, bouncing off the walls of the disused well. Staring down into that darkness, I began to shake. Not a single shiver, ear and gone, but an endless vibration with its source deep inside me, much deeper than any well. My teeth chattered and eyelids fluttered. My flannel pajamas seemed suddenly heavy and unbearably uncomfortable against my skin. I wanted nothing more than to move away from the well, but I couldn't, shaking as the whimpering grew louder and louder. But it changed suddenly, morphing into a yipping growl, and then a vicious snore.

Glowing red eyes suddenly appeared at the bottom of the well. A moment later. Sharp teeth emerged in the darkness, snapping and gnashing. Those eyes and teeth vaulted up out of the well, brushing straight at me. I stood there, unable to move, and the beast closed in. My eyes shot open. I found myself in my bed, huffing and sweating. My wife Josie slept beside me.

I wasn't a child anymore, even if I sometimes dreamed I still was. I'd grown up, moved on, left childish fears behind. I whispered to myself. My heart rate slowing as the recurring nightmare faded away, like so many of my childhood memories already had, I froze at the sound. When it came again, the dream residue had fallen away, and I realized it wasn't a dog whimpering, but my son. The sound of my child in distress had me throwing off the covers and getting out of bed.

It must have been Micah's whimpering that had brought the dream on. I wasn't dressed in pajamas. I'd stopped sleeping in them as a teenager. So I strode into the hall in my boxers to find Micah standing next to the window at the end of the hall, looking out into the yard. He whimpered again as I moved up to him, trying to be as quiet as possible. As I got closer, I noticed he had something in his right hand. It was a marker, a Sharpie.

Ignoring the marker for now, I stopped just behind and beside him. I heard that you shouldn't wake a sleepwalker, not because it was dangerous, but because it could only lead to disorientation and confusion. So I grabbed Micah's left arm gently to guide him back to his bedroom. As soon as I grabbed him, he stopped whimpering. There's someone out there. He said in a sleepy voice.

My heart rate started climbing again as I peered out the window into the backyard. We had a fence around the yard, but there was no neighbor immediately behind us. There were a couple of acres of thick wood separating us from the next housing development over. I peered out the window, seeking signs of anyone snooping around. I saw nothing. Micah was sleepwalking, mixing up dream and reality. He was only seven. so I had no problem picking him up in my arms.

His brilliant blue eyes were half open, his shaggy blonde hair obscuring his forehead. He looked up at me, but I could tell he didn't really see me. He was still asleep. With my left hand, I grabbed the marker. The cap was nowhere to be seen, and I set it on the window sill.

As I stepped into Micah's room, I felt something under my right foot. I knew what it was without further inspection. the marker cap. After getting him back in bed, I picked up the cap and reunited it with the marker. Then I walked across the hall and opened the door to his sister's room. She was curled up in her bed underneath a large poster for a K-pop band she'd been obsessed with for the last year.

She was turned toward the wall, so I couldn't see her face. But the slow rise and fall of her chest told me she was asleep. I left her door open a crack and went to her. went back to my room to find Josie half awake. What happened? She asked, sweeping her blonde hair out of her eyes. Micah was sleepwalking again, I said, setting the marker on the dresser. I hadn't seen any writing on the walls, so I was hoping he hadn't marked anything up during

his little nocturnal adventure. Again? How many times is that now? A lot, I said. It never used to happen, she said sleepily. I wonder if we should take them in, see what they can do about it. We'll discuss it in the morning, I said, slipping back into bed. Josie turned toward me, throwing a leg over my thighs and putting her head on my chest.

She was asleep again shortly, but not me. I stared up at the ceiling for the better part of an hour, afraid the nightmare would come back when I fell asleep, afraid of those eyes and those teeth. Eventually, sleep claimed me. I came downstairs in the morning to the sound of Micah laughing. As I walked into the kitchen and the connected dining room, I saw my brother Zane sitting across the sun-soaked table from Micah.

My son had a bowl of dry cereal in front of him, and he was tossing one piece at a time toward Zane, who was doing his best to catch them in his mouth. I smiled, taking a moment to appreciate my son and my brother getting a lot. long so well. It seemed like Zane was finally turning his life around. He'd never been the best at making good decisions, but I thought he was starting to get it. He was clean-shaven, and his dark hair was combed for a change. He wore a short-sleeve button-up shirt and khaki pants. Got an interview today? I asked. Zane turned his head toward me just as Micah threw another piece of cereal.

The food struck him in the temple, and he rocked his headside with the impact, pretending it was a heavy blow. Micah held with laughter. I've got a second interview at that bakery, Zane said after a moment. That's great, I said, pouring myself a cup of coffee. A piercing scream sounded from upstairs, causing me to spill my coffee. Lily cried after her scream. I heard footsteps upstairs as Josie raced out of our room and toward our daughter. Slamming the coffee cup down, I booked it up the stairs while Zane and Micah stared after me with wide eyes and open mouths. As I bolted up the stairs, a dozen worst-case scenarios raced through my head. Death, serious illness, injury. It flashed through

there with all the speed of a bullet drain. I never heard my daughter scream like that before, although she had been increasingly irritable lately. She was a teenager, so it was somewhat expected. Coming to a halting stop outside the upstairs hall bathroom, I saw my wife and daughter fretting in front of the mirror. My wife was blocking my view of Lily, but when I turned to look at her reflection in the mirror, a wave of relief swept through me. There was a word drawn on her forehead and marker.

Duty. She was bawling, trying to scrub the word away with her fingers while Josie tried to get her to calm down. When she saw me in the mirror, she said, Look what he did to me. It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure this one out. I found him with the marker in his hand, after all. Plus, duty had been Micah's favorite word for the last month or so,

after learning what it meant from a kid at school. He already got in trouble for saying it too much, but he was clever enough to stop saying it in front of me and Josie. Still, I couldn't count the number of times I heard Lily call from the living room saying, Mom, Dad, he's saying it again. This was almost always followed by Micah claiming innocence. You think he did this while he was sleepwalking? Josie asked, one arm around Lily's shoulders.

No way, Lily said. He did it on purpose. He hates me. Come on now, I said. Your brother doesn't hate you. He was sleepwalking. He's such a creep, Lily said, clearly not ready to calm down. This was going nowhere. Babe, I asked.

Will makeup remover get it off? Yes, Josie said, following my logic. Yes, I'll go get some. At only 13, Lily wasn't yet old enough to be wearing makeup. Not that she agreed with that. Still, we told her she had to wait until she was 15. Josie slipped past me to retrieve the makeup remover while I took her place next to Lily. I'm sorry, honey, I said.

I didn't mean to do it. do it. He's not even aware of anything when it's happening. Lily was beginning to calm down. Can I lock my door at night? she asked. No locked doors in the house, I said. What about Zane? She asked. He gets to lock the basement door. Why can't I lock my bedroom door? Because Zane is an adult. While he's living with us, getting back on his feet, I'm allowing him to lock the basement door. It gives him a sense of control, which is important for him. right now. But if there's an emergency, and I need to get you and your brother out of the house quickly, I can't be trying to break down your door, okay? Lily huffed. Okay. Did I tell you that I used to

sleepwalk when I was Micah's age? I said, a lump forming in my throat despite my best efforts. The nightmare with the well and the dog came burbling back up in my memory. No, Lily said. It's true, but it didn't last long. and I'll bet they've come up with ways to stop it in the year since I was a kid. We'll do what we can to get them to stop, okay? Lily nodded. Of course. I didn't tell her what had happened when I sleepwalked as a child.

She didn't need to know that. Besides, it was a freak occurrence, a one-in-a-million thing. And the same thing couldn't happen with Micah. It just wasn't possible. Josie showed back up with some makeup remover and went to work. getting the sharpy marks off Lily's forehead. As I stepped out into the hallway, Zane and Mika were there. Everything okay? Zane asked.

Yeah, it's fine, I said. Just a bit of a freak out. But as I spoke, I looked into Mika's eyes. And for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of knowing mischief there. No way, I thought. You wouldn't do it on purpose. If there had actually been a look on Micah's face, It was gone an instant later. I chalked it up to my imagination.

Zane helped me get the kids off to school because Josie had to go to work early. Then I went into my home office to get some work done. Hours passed as I got engulfed in work before I realized I hadn't seen the cat, Dame, all day. She usually came in and rubbed against my legs or jumped on the desk and got in front of the computer screen at least once during the day. but I hadn't seen her. I stood up from my desk and went searching for the cat,

knowing that I was procrastinating more than anything. Dame! I called, even though she would never come on command, even if she did have ten lives to live. Realizing I hadn't heard Zane leave, I called out. Zane, you still here? No answer. I moved to the basement door and tried the knob, locked.

He must have gone to the interview, I thought. Of course, I had a key to the basement, but I wasn't about to use it for something like this. I wasn't about to betray Zane's trust, just to see if Dame was down there. If she was, she was fine, and she'd come up whenever Zane got back. Searching for the cat was thirsty work, so I stopped in the kitchen and got a can of sparkling water out of the fridge. And as I cracked open the can next to the sink, I saw something out of the corner of my eye. The window over the sink looked out onto the backyard, and I saw what looked like a person's head ducked down on the other side of the fence. A head with a black ski mask on.

Forgetting about the can of water, I stared out, thinking about what Micah had said last night. There's someone out there, he said. Quickly setting the drink down, I moved upstairs at a run, although not as quickly as I had when Lily had screamed earlier. I came to the window at the end of the hallway and peered out from my new vantage point at the woodland abutting our yard. Off in the distance, I caught a glimpse of a person dressed in black, knocking a leafy branch aside and slipping between two bushes. The foliage shook significantly, leaving no doubt in my mind about what I'd just seen. The sound of the front door shutting made me jump. I patted over to the staircase, mind reeling.

Of course. There was no way the man in black could have made it to the front door that quickly, not even close. But what if he was working with a partner? I thought about the pistol in my closet, locked in a small lockbox. Listening hard, I heard footsteps moving around down there. Whoever it was didn't sound like they were trying to be quiet. Aidan? Zane called out from downstairs. Where are you at? I got the job. I rushed down the stairs and greeted my brother with a grim face. His smile died as he saw my expression. Whoa, what's up? He said.

Someone, a man, was watching the house, I said. In the back. What? Is he still back there? Where? He's gone. He saw me and ran. I said.

Show me, Seine said, starting for the back door. Then he stopped. Wait, you have a gun, right? I nodded. Go get it, just in case. I hesitated. It seemed like a big step. After all, the guy was already running away.

What the fuck else is it for, man? Zane said. He was right. I ran back upstairs and grabbed the lockbox from the closet, setting it on the bed, and entering the combination code on the three little dials. I pulled the gun out, but didn't put a bullet in the chamber. Not yet.

When I went back downstairs, Zane was standing just outside the back door, scanning the fence line. Where? He said. Follow me, I said. We moved through the door. the yard, past the swing set and around the sandbox to the fence. It was here, I said, standing on

my tiptoes to look over the fence at the dense foliage beyond. Zane, who was shorter than me, looked around for something to stand on, finding nothing. He grabbed the top of the wood slat fence and pulled himself up. I guess we could drive around to that other housing development, see if we can find the fucker, he said. Probably too late now, I said, stepping back from the fence. Zane let himself down and brushed his hands together to clear any wood residue from them. Then he stopped. What's that? He asked, pointing at the fence.

I looked where he was pointing, seeing a slight discoloration between two of the tan-colored slats. We both moved closer, bending down slightly to inspect the area. Is that blood? Zane asked. I think so, I said in barely a whisper. Zane turned and ran back toward the house. I'll be right back, he said. I watched him as he went around the side.

A moment later, he came back, pushing my empty wheelbarrow in front of him. He parked the tool in front of the fence and then climbed up on it. It gave him enough height so he could look over the top of the fence at the other side. What the fuck? He said.

What is it? I asked. What is it? It's Dame, he said, straightening with a frightened look on his face. After swallowing hard, I told him to get down and took his place. Leaning over the fence, I saw he was right. It was our cat, Dame.

She was dead. And she'd been nailed to the outside of the fence with a single long nail. Zane moved back toward the house as I stood there in the wheelbarrow. Where are you going? I asked him. To get my phone, he said. We need to call the cops. Can you think of anyone who would mean your family harm?

The uniformed police officer asked as we moved inside from the backyard. No, I said. No, we're a pretty quiet family. My wife works for an architecture firm, and I'm an actuary. We work a lot and don't get out much. Our kids are still young, seven and 13. Zane walked with us. The officer's partner was still out back, taking pictures of Dame.

No business deal's gone sour. Your kids haven't been involved in bullying. at school? No, not that I know of, I said. What about you? The officer asked, turning to Zane. You live here too, right? I do, but it's only temporary, Zane said. It's not like it was my cat. Would there be any reason for someone to be mad at you? No, not that I can think of, Zane said. Well, I interjected. That's not entirely accurate, is it? Zane looked at me. hurt in his eyes, but he said nothing. The officer looked at us. Care to elaborate, he said. I waited for Zane to come clean, but when he didn't, I powered through. Zane just got out of prison

a couple of months ago, said. That right, the officer said. What for? Robbery, Zane said, looking at his feet. How long were you in for? Two years, he said. Well, that could be a good reason, the cop said. Who did you rob? It's not that, okay? The store got their money back, minus a few hundred dollars. The owner was mad, sure, but I did my time, and I've since apologized to him. I'm sober now, and he knows it.

Well, it's something to consider, the officer said. His demeanor clearly changed. What's the store owner's name? Zane told him. But please, he said. said, don't go harassing him. That's the last thing I want. If you do that, you may actually get him angry at me again. The cop shrugged. I'll leave it to the detectives who take the case. I'm just gathering information. What do you suggest I do in the meantime? I asked. What if they

come back? Lock your doors and windows, the cop said. If you have an alarm system, use it. And keep a close eye on your kids. Call 911 if you see anyone lurking around. As soon as the cop left, Zane went downstairs. I figured I'd pissed him off by bringing up his criminal background, but I thought it might be relevant. Although my brother had been making significant strides since getting out, I didn't know what he'd gotten up to in there. For all I knew, he'd made some enemies inside, and it was one of them who killed Dame. Josie came home early after I called her and told her what had happened. I greeted her at the door to the garage, pulling her into a hug.

I need to tell you something, she said. Something I should have told you before. I pulled away from her. Okay, let's sit down, she said. We went into the living room. Josie set her purse and work bagged down and looked at me. I might know what this is about. I waited for her to continue.

She looked more worried than I could ever remember. seeing her. Something happened at work two weeks ago, she said, with a guy from HR. I sat up straighter. What? Who? Just a man. His name is Evan. He made inappropriate advances, she said, wringing her hands. At first, it was just harmless flirting that I never reciprocated. I thought he'd get the message, but he didn't. And then, two weeks ago, we were in the break room together and he touched me. It was a caress thing, just on my arm, but it sent me over the edge. I told him off, saying if he didn't leave me alone, I'd have no choice but to file a complaint. But when I looked up, my boss was in the doorway. She'd heard the whole thing. Evan was fired then

and there. Jesus, I said. Why didn't you tell me? I don't know. I wanted to. But you just worry so much. Does this guy know where we live? I asked. He worked in HR. Josie answered. He had access to that kind of information. I clenched my fists, swallowing my anger.

Well, we better tell the police about this. Josie nodded. I'll call them. Lazzang surgellied, puissance-molyne, we're saying. We're like it's their dojo. Pre-to-Jew?

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Vealier to play a way responsible. The conditions apply. After that was done and we both calmed down a bit. We discussed what to tell the children. We decided to tell them that Dame had died, but not how it happened. We didn't want to frighten them. We also decided to keep them inside at all times.

unless one of us was with them in the yard. Josie was freaked out, and so was I. But I tried my best to hide my nerves so I could be strong for my family. Josie and I were both there when Micah got off the bus down the road in our neighborhood, and we were both there a little while later when Lily got off her bus. We broke the news of Dame to them separately. They were both pretty bummed, but I was surprised to find that Micah didn't cry. After dinner that night, we ordered out.

I came downstairs to find Zane, Lily, and Micah all sitting around the dining room table, eating ice cream. Under normal circumstances, I would have admonished Zane for feeding my kids ice cream right before bed. But these weren't normal circumstances. They were talking about funny things Dame had done over the years we had her. And I realized the ice cream was a kind of coping treat. I scooped some rocky road into a bowl, and then sat down and joined them.

It was a nice time. I was able to put my worries aside for just a few minutes to spend time with my brother and my kids. As I sat there, I studied Zane, realizing that he really had changed since getting out of prison. I heard so many bad stories about prison being a finishing school for criminals, and I half expected him to get into trouble and get sent right back in within a month.

But it seemed he really turned, things around. I never asked him just how his time in prison had been, and he never volunteered the information. I only visited him twice after he first went inside, but he told me both times that he didn't want me coming back. So I respected his wishes and let him do his time how he wanted to do it. I sent him letters, but I never received any back. Still, it was clear that he'd been getting them because he called me a month before his scheduled release date and asked if my offer for a place to live still stood. I said it did, and I was there to pick him up when he got out. Now, as we sat at the table, I felt hope for my younger brother, hope that he would get his life together after all these

years. When the kids were finished with their ice cream, I told them to go get ready for bed. Then it was just Zane and I at the table. Hey, listen, I said. Sorry about earlier, with the cop. But I figured it was important. A cloud passed over Zane's features as he looked up at me. It kind of took me by surprise. If something goes wrong, it must be my fault, he said with a sneer.

This has nothing to do with me, nothing. Okay, okay, said, relax. I just thought we should give him all the information and let the cops decide what to do with it, you know? I mean, this is my family we're talking about. I'm your fucking family too, he said. I know. That's what I'm saying, you, Josie, the kids.

I'm trying to protect you all. I don't need your protection. I didn't need it in prison and I don't need it now. Whatever happened with the cat, it has to do with you, not me. Maybe. I said, I wasn't about to tell Zane what Josie has. had told me. That was husband and wife stuff he didn't need to know. And while I thought it was probably the Evan guy who killed Dame, I didn't regret telling the cop about Zane's stint in jail. We had to

provide them with all the information. But Zane wasn't about to let up. He was good and mad. But you don't think it has anything to do with you, right? He said, Perfect little Aden, never did anything wrong in his life. Yeah, I said, getting angry. Yeah, you know what? That's right. I've worked hard to be a good man, and I'm proud to say I don't have any enemies. I've become successful without stepping on other people. So what? If you think I'll apologize for that, you're way off base. Hey, Josie said in a harsh whisper, coming into the dining room.

You're shouting and scaring the kids. Knock it off. Zane and I stared at each other for a moment, but Zane's clouded expression fell away. You're right, he said. I'm sorry. I was out of line. This whole thing's got me a little rattled. It's kind of freaky. It has us all rattled, Josie said. The last thing we need to be doing is fighting with each other. I stood up and walked into the adjacent kitchen. Stopping in front of the sink with my bowl, I looked out at the length of fence where I'd seen the masked man earlier. The floodlights in the backyard were on, so I could see this side of the fence clearly.

but beyond it was nothing but darkness. Anyone could be lurking out there, waiting for us to go to sleep. I thought about my gun. I put it back in the lockbox when I saw the police arrive that afternoon. But I thought about taking it out of the lockbox and sleeping with it in my nightstand drawer, just in case. I'm sorry, Zane, I said, still looking out the window. I shouldn't have lost my temper.

Good, Josie said. Now, let's all go to bed. Zane gathered up the kids' bowls and his own, bringing them to me so I could load them into the dishwasher. Then he headed toward the basement. Oh, Zane, Josie said. He stopped and turned. I heard you got a job today.

Congratulations. When do you start? Thanks, Josie, he said. I start the day after tomorrow. It's a delivery job for a bakery, bringing bread and donuts and stuff to hotels. and convenience stores. I'm so glad to hear it, she said. Well, good night. Night, Zane said, and headed downstairs. Josie went upstairs, and I followed after starting the dishwasher and checking all the doors and windows. The place was locked up tight, and I even set the alarm

that we seldom used. I put the gun lockbox in my nightstand drawer with only one number off on the combination. That way, I could just turn that one dial to the right number and open the box to get the gun. Since Micah had been sleepwalking, I didn't want to just leave it in the drawer. I'd done some very strange things as a kid when sleepwalking, and I just didn't want to risk it. Of course, I could have locked the door to our bedroom, but we'd like to leave it unlocked so the kids could come in if they had a nightmare or hurt something, especially now. With the gun nearby, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep didn't come for a long time, and when it did, it didn't last long.

It felt like I just nodded off when a scraping sound caught my attention, sending my heart into overdrive. It was coming from downstairs. As I got out of bed, I heard the low sound of Josie snoring. Just before she went to bed, she said she was going to take an ambient to help her sleep. She didn't take the pill every night, only when she really needed to get some good sleep. I took them occasionally, too. But the deal we made with each other was that only one of us could take Ambion on a given night.

I told her to go ahead. There was no way I was going to take a sleeping pill, not with what was happening. Now, as I pulled open the nightstand drawer to access the lockbox, I knew she wouldn't be easily roused. I spun the last of the three dials to the correct number, and opened up the lockbox to retrieve the gun. I pulled the slide back, inserting a bullet into the chamber, and then moved out of the room.

The scraping sound was louder in the hallway, and it grew louder still as I moved down the stairs. My breath rasped in and out, backed by the thrum of my heartbeat in my ears. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, I clicked the safety off, but kept my finger outside the trigger guard. The sound was coming from the living room,

Stealing myself, I took a ride off the stairs and another right into the living room, seeing a figure there against the wall next to the television. I raised the gun, then dropped it again as I recognized the shape of Micah's small body outlined against the white wall. Scanning the room, I made sure no one else was around before allowing myself to take a deep breath. Stepping over to the wall, I flipped on the light switch and flooded the room with light. Micah was facing the wall, his arm working at something I couldn't see. see. I can't. I whispered. You okay, buddy? He didn't answer, sleepwalking again. I put the safety

back on the weapon and set it aside as I approached my son. He had a kitchen knife in his right hand, and he was carving up the drywall next to the TV. Jumping forward, I yanked the knife out of his hand. He looked up at me through half-litted eyes, a vacant smile in his face. I can do it, he said. Then he turned back to the wall and started scraping at the gash in the drywall with his fingers, getting white dust all over his hands. I set the knife aside next to the gun and picked my son up. Clutching him to my chest, I sat down on the couch, rocking him back and forth as he babbled incoherently. After a few minutes, Micah's eyes were closed all the way and his babbling had stopped.

I set him down on the couch and watched him for a few more minutes. He didn't move. he was fully asleep again. I picked up the gun and the knife, then walked into the kitchen, turning on the lights as I went. The room was bathed in illumination, and I stopped dead in the middle of the floor.

All the knives from the knife block had been removed, and they were all stabbed into various food items from the fridge and pantry. One was stabbed into a package of uncooked chicken breast, another impaled a plastic container of baby spinach, A loaf of bread, an apple, a bag of spaghetti, and a few other items had all been arranged on the counter and stabbed through with knives. My gut twisted on itself as sweat sprung up on my forehead. What the fuck? I said.

Unable to help myself from recalling the terrible thing I'd done as a child. I'd been around Micah's age when it happened. And I'd been sleepwalking.