Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - The Cabin in the Woods | Parts 3 & 4

Episode Date: May 19, 2021

This story was written by u/Born-Beach on Reddit. He is an incredible horror writer. You can check out his subreddit here: r/TalesFromTheCryptid 🎉 Unlock exclusive bonus episodes HERE: https://www.patreon.com/drnosleep 🔔 Dr. NoSleep YouTube channel: https://youtube.com/c/DrNoSleep 🎽 Dr. NoSleep Merchandise: teespring.com/stores/dr-nosleep-merch DISCLAIMER: This story is R rated for adults 18 years or older. NOT for children. #drnosleep #scarystories #horrorstories #truescarystories #horrorpodcast #horror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Talk to nicely. Did someone say shout-out? No, but I did. So here we go, Isaac, Danielle, and Rebik. You guys are awesome. I hope you know that your support directly helps me grow my podcast and reach more people,

so thank you so much. If anyone else out there would like to support my podcast while also getting an extra bonus episode every week, then check out my Patreon page at patreon.com slash dr. no sleep. I shook Eric, waking him from his faintly

spell. He sat up grogly, rubbing the back of his head where he'd knocked it against the hard wood. What happened? He muttered. How to say this? A lot. He blinked, and his eyes scanned the room. Then he froze, his hand gripping my arm as he looked up at the man by the river, standing before us dressed in his beige ball cap, checkered shirt and dirty jeans. The wolf mask he wore reeked of decay, and its eyes glowed a faint yellow. It's nearly dark, the man said. Yeah, I know, I said irritably. You all right, Eric? He looked from man back to me, his mind probably reeling.

What's going on? He whispered. I shrugged. It was the truth. I had no idea what was going on. When the man had cornered me at the end of the hallway, I expected myself to be torn limb from limb, maybe have my teeth made into a nice necklace. Instead, he just said it was nearly dark and stood there expectantly.

It took me a few moments before I realized. he wasn't going to attack me. And that's when I awkwardly walked around him and came to check on Eric. I don't think he's going to hurt us, I said. Not that I knew for sure, but I figured if we'd survived this long, then we might be in the clear.

Although I don't really know what his deal is, Eric stood, steadying himself against me. He studied the man. What if he's warning us? What if he was warning us back then, too? The book flashed in my mind. The mysteries of the cryptids. A pulp fiction novel the man had given me during our last encounter, back when I was just a kid.

Eric had packed it into one of Grandma's moving boxes, not even realizing it. If he is, then he probably wants us to read that book. I marched from the room, passed the man, and tore open the box of books. I rifled through it, tossing whatever I didn't need in every which direction. Finally, at the bottom, I found it. I picked it up and ran my fingers over its faded cover. The thing was in pretty bad shape. With some of the pages fused together from water damage during its river crossing,

the illustration on the front was of a Sasquatch being strangled by a sea monster. Lovely. Is this what you want us to read? I asked the man. He didn't move, didn't speak. Let me guess, I said, crossing the room back to Eric. It's nearly dark. Don't be a dick, Eric muttered. He held out a hand for the book, and I passed it to him gladly.

Out of the two of us, Eric was the action. If there was a mystery to be solved in those pages, then he would be the one to do it. This thing looks like it was written in the 50s, he said, looking over its cover, right down to the art style. He flipped the book in his hands, scanning the text on the back and reading it aloud. A compendium of the greatest mysteries known to man. Cryptids have long since fascinated the scientific community, though their existence is highly contested. Here are three great tales sure to frighten and entertain. He furrowed his brow.

His eyes re-scanning the text as if he might have missed something. A moment later, he shook his head. This just looks like an old monster novel. He stared at the man. Is this a prank? I mean, if it is, it's pretty good. How'd you know we were coming back up here? The man didn't speak.

Eric looked at me inside. I guess we can read it? Sure, I said, plucking the book from his grip. We'll read it on the way down the mountain. I stuffed the book in my jacket pocket and made from the front door. The man stepped in front of me. It's nearly dark. He said, you're right, and that's our cue.

Eric, let's go. Eric looked at me in disbelief. Matt, this is practically what we've been waiting for. The answers are here, I mean. He gestured incredulously at the man. Here he is, and he isn't even trying to eat us or whatever. Don't you want to figure this out? Look, I said.

Nobody said we needed to sort this shit out tonight. We can take the book, do a novel study back at Uncle Jakes, and then come up here with plenty of daylight hours and piece it all together. A chill ran through me, like the memory of the man. The memory of our first night was returning to, and I wasn't ready to face that again. Talking was one thing, but this therapeutic walk-down memory lane had grown a bit too real for my liking. Sound good? Eric stared at me with stubborn defiance.

If we had inherited anything from our late grandmother, it was our unfailing resistance to having our minds changed after they'd been made up. Luckily for me, I was more stubborn by a mile, and Eric knew that. Sure enough, he folded his arms and looked sidelong to the window. All right, fine, he said. We'll leave tonight. But I'm not kidding about this. We do as you say, study that book and then come back. I nodded and I meant it. I hated this.

Don't get me wrong. It scared me in all the wrong ways. But I'd been through enough hours of therapy and dumped enough money into booze to know that if I didn't sort this shit out now, then I'd either end up dead or bankrupt. I promise you will be back tomorrow. Eric waved me off.

Sure, whatever, let's go. I let out a sigh of relief. Thankful that Eric was much more reasonable than myself. All right, Wolfie, you heard us. We'll be back first thing tomorrow. I gave him an awkward half salute and moved to step past him, but he grabbed my wrist. It's nearly dark, he said.

I tried to pull my arm from his grasp, but his grip was ironclad. I get that. That's sort of why we want to get the hell out of here. I could feel my wrist bruising as his calloused hand squeezed. Get off of him, Eric shouted, grabbing the man's fingers and trying to pry them free. I brought my other hand around and did what I could to help, but it was like trying to pull apart a vice clamp. It's nearly dark. The man growled. His voice now guttural and beast-like.

It's nearly dark. His wolf teeth dripped saliva, and his eyes flared with wild rage. Something agonizing dug into my arm, and I realized claws were growing from his fingers, black and horrible, piercing into my skin so that my blood ran down there. Stop! I screamed, certain that at any moment my wrist would be ground to dust. Jesus Christ, please!

The man's body twitched, and he pulled me effortlessly toward his jaws. The reek was overwhelming. I gagged. My body and sensory overload. With a violent jerk, I felt my wrist snap as he tossed me sideways. My nose collided against the wall with the dull crunch, and pain exploded across my face. I struggled onto my hands and knees. My body quaked from the agony.

My vision blurring and ears ringing. Something dripped onto the floor, and I wasn't sure if it was tears or blood. Eric rushed to my side. Matt! I shrugged him off, standing on my own two feet so that I could look at the wolf-faced bastard in the eyes. If this fuck was going to kill us, I wasn't going to take it lying down. I'd make him earn it. I dashed into the den, Eric staring after me dumbfounded.

There, by the fireplace, exactly what I was looking for. I gripped the fire iron, holding it before me with my good hand, and rushed back into the kitchen. Get behind me, Eric! I shouted, we're getting the hell out of here. Eric didn't move. Had he seriously given up? No, it wasn't that. It was that his attention had been stolen by something else.

He stood, gazing transfixed out of the four-pane window. Between my broken wrist and smashed nose, I could hardly think past the agonized. pain rioting through me, but I still found the will to fight. Eric, he was sightseeing. Mad? He muttered. Get behind me, Eric. He turned toward me, his hand pointing hopelessly toward the forepane. Something's out there, mad. My legs felt weak, and for a moment, I forgot about my wrist and nose. I forgot about the throbbing hurt. What's out there? Memories clawed at the edges of my mind, and I pushed them down. I needed to focus. Eric looked back to the window, and a moment later, an ear-splitting roar rang out,

so loud that I couldn't tell which direction it came from. It felt like it was everywhere all at once. Get away from the window! I shouted. He took a couple unsteady steps backward. It's starting! I turned to the man, who stood as still as ever. What the fuck are you going to do to us?

I screamed. I brought the fire iron down on him, but he grabbed it and tossed it aside as if it were a piece of styrofoam. It's dark. He growled. A thud sounded against the cabin's heavy door. than another. The timber of the entire structure shook, dust falling down from the rafters and whatever Uncle Jake had failed to take with him crashing to the floor.

Matt, Eric said, inching toward me. It's happening again. I swallowed. Memories rushed around me. My mind smothered by them. We need to hide. I said hastily, anxiously. Eric was sweating. His face a mask of panic. Where? This is where we hid last time. Then we have to hide somewhere else for Fuck's sake, I didn't know what was happening or why we were reliving this, but I knew the man wasn't going to help us. At best, he was a neutral party. At worst, he had kept us here to die. I gripped one of Grandma's wooden kitchen chairs, and with as much strength as I had in my right hand, flung it clear through the four-pane window. The front door exploding, flying across the vestibule and colliding against the far wall with a deafening crash. Something screeched,

then stepped inside with a thunderous footfall. I didn't need to say a damn thing. Eric had already climbed through the shattered window. He reached inside and helped me to get myself up to the sill. Then I rolled over it and landed in the dirt outside. Throwing his arm under my own, he heaved me to my feet. I immediately noticed a tire where it shouldn't have been with a massive bite mark in it. My eyes drifted to my car in horror. Its roof had been caved in, and half of its wheels were flattened. I spared a moment to look back at the man. He was motionless, though it was hard to call him a man anymore. The mask looked to a fuse with his neck and his hands or paws were now covered in fur with long, dark claws. His jeans had been torn, and he stood upon two legs curved in the fashion

of a bipedal wolf. His jaw salivated as he stared back at me. We're going to read it, I shouted at him. I didn't know why it did, or if he could even understand me. All I knew was that he had given me that book for a reason, and whatever was happening was intrinsically tied to it. If there was an answer to this, it was in those pages. I felt myself dragged a by Eric. Holy fuck, man, let's go. The two of us fled into the tree line. Our footsteps muffled by the sound of the cabin being torn to pieces. Look, Air Canada, did a sold world. Super, an offer for the assort. Station Thermal, volcano.

You've seen the price for the Japan? Mmm, eparg and sushi. Wow, the solds are good for Mayork also. We could go to the plage and make a Or it's a long march on the border of the sea-sile. Hmm, I adore the canolies. Wait,

Decide, wait, this sold endurie limited endurie limited.com, reserved to air-canada.com or at your agent of voyage. The conditions can't apply. Eric and I ran so hard

that my lungs felt like they caught fire. Exhausted, I felt the dirt with a groan. The pain of my smashed face, broken wrist, and a lifetime of poor decisions had finally caught up with me.

I, I'm done. I breathed. Eric doubled back, crouching next to me. Take it easy, man. Look, he pointed ahead. We're nearly to the river. Let's get you some water. So we were.

Now that I was catching my breath, the rest of my senses seemed to sharpen again. I could hear the rushing current just barely through the helming wind. I pushed myself to my feet and the two of us made our way to the bed, where I dropped to my knees and slurped as much water as my mouth could hold.

Pass me the book, Eric said. I reached inside my jacket and handed it to me. its pages rolling in the storm. He held it closed, up to the light of the moon. The entire time you had this, he said, squinting at the cover. And you never noticed the author? I looked at him, wiping dribbles of water from my mouth.

I mean, it's not like I've had it my whole life. I left it here when we went home. I really didn't need any mementos of that week. Who wrote it? Grandma, he said incredulously. He turned the book toward me and jabbed a finger at the bottom text. G. Fasdro. Well, I'll be damned.

Don't sweat it, Eric said, shaking his head. I missed it on first glance, too. He glanced around, no doubt scouting for a place free from wind with enough moonlight to read by. Eventually, he settled on a large boulder near the water, shielded from the storm by a gnarled fir tree. He clambered it up with some effort. Did you know she was a writer? He called down to me. Not at all, I said.

Come to think of it, I had no idea about anything grandma did, besides come over every Christmas and bake apple tarts. Mom never talked about it. Eric flipped through the book, opened to the first page, and adjusted his glasses. Mind keeping a lookout while I bruised this thing? I nodded, rising from the riverbed and looking up and down the shore. No sign of the man, and no sign of the beast that destroyed the cabin either. So far so good. I cradled my broken wrist and breathed the sigh of relief, pushing it out of my blood-caped nostrils in a painful snort. I hiked up the side of the bank, getting to higher ground so I could keep better watch over the area. As I did, the book played in my mind,

the mysteries of the cryptids. Why would Grandma write something like that anyway? For kicks? She'd never so much as mentioned the Loch Ness monster or abominable snowman growing up, and here she was a supposed authority on them. It seemed bizarre to me,

but then all of this did. Had she known about the man, too? What about the beast? She must have. Something splashed in the river, and the hairs on my neck stood on end. I swallowed her. my eyes searching up and down the running current, scanning every outcropped rock and wayward branch.

Just a fish, hopefully. Seconds turned to minutes. The only sound coming from the croak of river toads and Eric flipping through the pages of mysteries. Maybe I was making a bigger deal about things than I needed to. I closed my eyes and tried the breathing exercises my therapist recommended. Then another splash. This went closer, louder. I strained my vision.

Even beneath the glow of the full moon, the river's dance. Dancing waves were difficult to keep track of. Light gleamed off of them one moment, then died the next. Small flickers caught my eye. But when I'd look, I'd see only dark water staring back at me. Was something swimming toward us? Eric flipped another page of the book nonchalantly. His expression thoughtful, eyebrows furrowed in focus.

He hadn't noticed a thing. Something felt wrong, though. It was the same feeling I'd had when I first came upon the man by the river. Like my mind was picking up on things that I hadn't yet fully processed. Eric, I called, taking a couple steps on the stone shore. Come away from the water. He looked up, perplexed. Why?

He adjusted his glasses and looked around, holding his hair against the wind. Is something here? I need the light of the clearing to read, Matt. Just get off the fucking rock, man. Come over to me. I glanced upward. The moon shone, pale and ominous through drifting clouds. There's plenty of light over here.

I'm nearly finished. Just relax. Now, man, groaning. He creased his page and closed the book, then slid down the big rock, carefully. He steadied himself on the wet, clacking stones as he walked towards me. Fuck's sakes, Matt. Another splash. The day we met the man by the river, I said, the pain in my wrist fading against the backdrop of my mounting fear.

I came back down to the water. What? Eric said, bracing himself against the roaring wind. I forgot the book. Jake brought us down fishing rods, remember? I was so excited that I'd forgotten all about mysteries. I left it on the river bed. I was transfixed by the river now. Something was in there. I knew it. When I came back down to get it, I saw something in the waves. Like a fish? Eric said,

finally reaching me. He turned, following my gaze to the river, though he looked skeptical. I shook my head. Bigger, I think. I don't know. I just grabbed the book and ran. Another splash. This one near the shore. I backed up, nearly slipping on the stones. Behind us, the pitch black of the woods, and in front of us, whatever lurked in the wall. You hear that? I said. Eric nodded, stashing the book in his pocket. After what happened earlier, I say we don't take any chances. Let's find somewhere safer to read. Where, though? The woods? We'd get lost. And there was no question of that. Back to the cabin, or whatever was left of it? No point. The car was totaled. And besides, whatever beast had come knocking didn't sound nearly as

reasonable as the man. It was probably still around. No, we were resigned to the river. We just need to be careful and stay as far from the shore as we could. Good Lord, said a voice nearby. I jumped, my arm flying in front of Eric instinctively. You boys have really worked yourselves up, haven't you? I wheeled around to see a familiar face standing at the height of the riverbank, a stone in his hand. He hurled it, and it landed in the water with a heavy splash.

Uncle Jake? I shouted. He began walking down the bank, slowly, with a sway in his step, like he'd been drinking. Good news, boys! He shot us a smile, but it felt. felt wrong, horrible. His eyes were unfocused, and his tongue lulled from his mouth. I just found Griff, and he can't wait to see you.

It's something else here now. Something new. From, exclusively on Paramount Plus, it's the series Stephen King calls Scarious Hell. Everything here is impossible, but it's also real. Sci-fi vision calls it the best show streaming right now. We're running out of time, and we still don't know the rules. Don't miss what the movie blog calls something you need to watch. Saving those children is how we all go home.

From Binge All Episodes exclusively on Paramount Plus. This story was written by user U slash Born Beach on Reddit. He is a very talented horror writer. To check out more of his work, go to his subreddit at R slash Tales from the Cryptid. The link to his subreddit is in the episode description. Thank you so much for tuning in. If you're listening on Spotify, don't forget to hit that follow button to get notified every time a new episode is released. Also, please take a second to leave a rating for the podcast.

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