Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - There's a Staircase in My Apartment That Shouldn't Be There

Episode Date: September 15, 2025

Wake up or stay up with NoSleep Coffee! Check out NoSleepCoffee.com to get 20% off fresh roasted coffee delivered straight to your door. Just use promo code NOSLEEP20 at checkout for 20% off your first order! Get the full horror experience without interruptions — ad-free, all the time: ⁠patreon.com/drnosleep Author: Jake Bible Check out the author's latest release: Blood Cruise! https://jakebible.com/novels/blood-cruise/ * * * CONTENT DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content not limited to intense themes, strong language, and depictions of violence intended for adults. Parental guidance is strongly advised for children under the age of 17. Listener discretion is advised.  #drnosleep #scarystories #horrorstories #doctornosleep #horrorpodcast #horror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

I saw the fist coming, but I'm no fighter. I've watched a lot of movies, sure, so I know all the moves. I can describe them easily. Block, duck, shift leg, sweep the leg, all that shit. But when faced with the guy a few inches taller, and with a whole lot more muscle, all the film knowledge in the world is useless. My only muscle memory is pressing play on the remote, not blocking a jab straight to my nose. The pain hits hard and fast, and I double over instantly, both hands covering the

my face. You motherfucker! I shout, blood pouring from my nose and onto the sidewalk. It's a light colored concrete, so they're going to have to sand the stain out. Soap and water won't cut it with the amount of blood splattering at my feet. What the fuck? Talk to her again, and I'll fucking take an eye asshole. The taller and stronger guy snarls. His arms are long enough that he didn't even have to step over the cafe's rope partition to nail me. My fault, really. I got too close, said the wrong thing, and didn't retreat fast enough. Do I deserve a broken nose? Hell no. All I wanted to do was say hello to Adrian and go about my day. I wasn't going to harass her or say anything nasty. I'm past all that. Yet, I still got a broken nose for my trouble. Josh, you know you can't come within 100 feet of me,

Adrian says from her seat at the cafe table. She doesn't even bother to stand up and see if I'm okay, which I'm sure is fuck not. It was an accident. I say, still bent over, still leaking a sizable amount of blood out of both nostrils. I can feel my sinus is swelling, and I know breathing will be a problem soon. I was walking by and saw you, so I thought I'd say hello. That's it. I wasn't going to stay. I have shit to do today. I stand upright and tilt my head back. The blood instantly drains into the back of my throat, and I try not to gag. Bullshit, the guy says to me. He's still standing, watching me. I have a feeling if I take one step toward the cafe, I'd have my lights knocked out.

You don't live anywhere near here. What? How the hell do you know that? I look at Adrian. Who is this fucking guy? Guy, she says. Yeah, the guy, this dude. The one who broke my fucking nose. It's not broken. I would have felt it break. The guy says.

His name is Guy, and we've been seeing each other for over three months now, Josh. Adrian says, then reaches out and touches. Jesus Christ, I can't believe I'm going to say it. She reaches out and touches Guy's arm. Sit down, sweetie. He's going to leave now and never bother us again. She looks at me, and there's no trace of friendship or history or love. There's not even kindness.

Just a cold stare filled with contempt and maybe a little amusement. You are leaving now, right, Josh? Yeah, yeah, I'm leaving. I hold out my hand. Can you toss me a wad of napkins, though? Seems only fair, since I now have to spend a lot of money at the clinic to get my nose checked. I fucking told you I didn't break your nose, Guy snaps. I beg to differ.

I take my hands away from my face. Should my nose be pointing in this direction? Oh dear. Adrian immediately grabs a handful of napkins from the dispenser on their table. Guy? Hand these to Josh. What? Fuck this stalker asshole, he glares at me.

Guy? She says in a voice I know well. He has about three seconds to do as he's told, or she's going to make the rest of his day a living hell. Fine, Guy responds and takes the handful of napkins from her. He tosses the wad at me, and half of them fall into the pool of my blood, coating the sidewalk. Thanks, Guy, I snatch up as many clean ones as I can. I twist a couple up and stuff them in my nostrils. Then I use the rest to clean some of the blood off my lip, chin, and then neck and chest.

Yeah, I'm coded Get the fuck gone, bitch Guy sits back down And if I see you around here again I'll snap your fucking neck You hear me? I hear you But there's gonna be a problem

I say I moved into a new apartment around the block I do actually live around here now So if you come to this part of town You're gonna see me I better fucking not No guy You aren't getting it

I live here I even order from this cafe sometimes You are going to to see me. Like I fucking said, I better fucking not. Guy, let it go. Adrian bats his hand. He's harmless. Look at him. If you see him again, he'll turn and walk the other way. Right, Josh? Her eyes hit mine. And for a second, I feel that spark we used to have. My stomach does somersaults. And I almost want to tell her how much I still care for. Then her eyes narrow and the spark dies. Right, Josh? Yeah, yeah.

right, I say. Great seeing you, Adrian. Nice meeting you, Guy. I hope you get testicular cancer. You two have an awesome day. I don't know if they watch me walk off. Don't really care. I put one foot in front of the other and just start walking and walking and walking. I could go back for my car, but there is an urgent care clinic four blocks down. And considering how bad my head is pounding and how quickly my eyes are swelling, I don't think driving is a great thing for me to be doing right now. The urgent care clinic is jam-packed when I walk in. A sign above the reception desk says,

wait time, two hours. Of course it does. And what are you here for? The receptionist asks. I pointed my face. I ran into my ex, and her new boyfriend's fist ran into me. That's unfortunate. Do you need me to call the police for you?

Technically, that's assault. She studies my face. Pretty bad assault. Let's hope only your nose is broken. Healing broken cheekbones isn't fun. No cops, I say, probably a little too fast. The whole restraining order thing is true. If the cops show up, it'll be just as bad for me as it will be for Guy.

All right, the receptionist responds, obviously picking up on my need to keep the cops out of it. Her demeanor doesn't change, though. A dude being punched by an ex's new boyfriend is probably one of the greatest hits around here. Take a seat, and the doctor will be a doctor. We'll see you as soon as possible. I point up at the sign. Is it really two hours?

She shakes her head. No, it's more like three hours. But if I put that up there, then I'll have a riot on my hands. She looks past me at the almost full waiting room in shutters. Your secret is safe with me. I make the lock and key gesture across my lips. After accidentally bumping my nose, white-hot pain clouds my vision. I got you, a man says, catching me as my knees go weak.

He helps me to an empty seat and pats my shoulder as I settle into the worn, cracked, and unfortunately sticky seat. That better? Yeah, thanks. He sits down next to me, and I almost think my eyes are swollen so bad that it's warping my vision. The man's face is off. Not falling off, nothing like that. It just doesn't look right. Like he's had terrible plastic surgery.

But you can't quite pinpoint what's wrong. It's like an uncanny valley thing. but in real life. Sounds like you got lady trouble, he chuckles. It's a warm chuckle, pleasant and inviting. I've been there, pal. He holds out his hand. Wilson Hobbs, I'm just here getting some blood.

You mean blood work? I ask. He smiles. Yes, blood. Work. Josh Locken. I shake his hand. His skin is dry and thick, like cracked leather.

I let go of his hand and want to wipe mine on my jeans, but I don't. Despite his help and warm laugh, something tells me not to piss Wilson Hobbs off. Of course, I could be overreacting, since I just had my ass handed to me by a guy named guy. That's probably it. I'm being oversensitive. You need help with this new boyfriend? Wilson Hobbs asks. I can help. Um, no, I can handle this myself. You sure? Because this guy doesn't sound like he's going to let you do that. Once they get a taste, guys like that always want to be.

want more. Next thing you know, you'll see him at the corner store. You'll see him at the gas station. You'll see him at that cafe again. What cafe? I never mentioned a cafe. Sure you did. When you were checking in at the reception desk, you said your ex's new boyfriend punched you at a cafe. Yeah, no, I don't think I did. No, you did. I don't think so. You did. And the way he says those two words shuts me right up. He's not so warm in a nice. He's not so warm in inviting anymore. Wilson Hobbs, the receptionist calls. Here, he says, still eyeing me.

He pats my knee. Take care, Josh Lockin. See you around. He stands up and goes to the door marked patient entrance. As soon as he walks through, I swear I see the receptionist shudder a little. She catches me watching her and forces a smile. I ease into my sticky chair and close my eyes, hoping a little rest will chill the pain. Picture this, it's late at night, you're scrolling, and suddenly you find exactly what you've

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instantly and his face goes red. What did I tell you? He shouts. My face is bandaged and I'm already feeling the painkillers after dry swallowing double the dose before I even left the pharmacy counter. I got a judgmental frown from the pharmacy tech, but screw that chick. Her face doesn't feel like it was hit by a runaway truck. Broken nose for sure, but no broken cheekbones. Three to four weeks to fully heal, ice as needed. The painkillers do not have refills. You are fucking dead, locking!

Guy roars and steps off the sidewalk. A car nearly takes him out, and he has to jump back to avoid being smashed. Then, that same car swings a fast U-turn, cutting off traffic, so it can stop in front of me on my side of the street. Hey, Josh, Wilson Hobbs says, as the passenger side window rolls down. Need a lift? Car horns are blaring. People are flipping him off as they drive by,

and Guy is trying to time it so he can. across the street and most likely rip me to shreds. Yet Wilson Hobbs doesn't seem to give a shit. He sits and waits for my answer. I'm about to tell him no, but Guy finds a break in traffic and is running toward me. I grabbed the handle and yank the passenger door open, jumping in as fast as possible. Yes, thank you. Now go, go, go, go.

Wilson Hobbs doesn't go, go, go. Instead, he turns and watches Guy stop toward us. He even rolls his window down and hangs an arm outside. Hey pal, you look pissed. Everything all right? He asks when Guy gets to the driver's side. Don't fucking talk to me. Guy snarls, which seems to be his default tone.

I don't know you. Wilson Hobbs. He holds his hand out. And you are none of your fucking business. Guy leans down and points at me. But he is my business. Get the fuck out of the car, Josh. I fucking warned you.

And I told you I live around. here. So fuck off. You live around here? Wilson Hobbs asks me. Whereabouts? Before I can think up some excuse, so I don't have to tell Wilson Hobbs where I live. Guy makes a move and heads for the front of the car. Wilson hits the gas, and the car lurches forward, blocking him. Guy switches direction and tries to go around the back of the car. Wilson Hobbs throws it into reverse and blocks him again. Got a full tank, Guy, Wilson Hobbs says casually. I can do this all day. How the fuck do you know my name? I didn't tell you my name. Guy shouts, returning to the driver's side window. He points at me again. Don't you fucking tell strangers my name, asshole. Oh, he didn't.

Wilson Hobbs says. You did. What? No, I didn't. Sure you did. Right, Josh? Um, everything is happening so fast that I don't know whether he did or didn't. Yeah, maybe. See? Wilson Hobbs grins at Guy. You told me. Get the fuck. out of the car. Both of you? Both of us, Guy? You sure about those odds? Let's leave, I say. Can we leave? I'll tell you where I live. It's real close. Yeah, tell him where you live, Josh. Guy sneers. I'd love to hear it too. No problem, Wilson Hobbs says to me. Where do you live, Josh? Just get going and I'll tell you, but I won't know where I'm going if you don't give me the address now. He'll fucking hear it. Who, Guy? Guy. Oh, don't worry about him.

I'll help you take care of Guy so he never bothers you again. I don't know what expression Wilson Hobbs has on his face when he turns to look at Guy, but it can't be a good one, because the angry asshole takes a couple steps back from the car, and almost it's creamed by a Prius. Careful guy, Wilson Hobbs says. Wouldn't want you to get hurt. Then he returns his attention to me. Josh? The address?

I pause, then tell him. He smiles, puts the car in gear, and drives. I turn in my seat and see Guy still standing in the street, watching us go. Do you think he heard? I ask. Wilson Hobbs shrugs. So what if he did? I told you I'd help you with Guy. You also said he'd never bother me again. What the hell does that mean? Exactly as it sounds. He doesn't say another word until we reach the old Victorian house that's been split into four apartments.

Well, thanks, Wilson, I offer my hand. I appreciate the ride. Wilson Hobbs ignores my hand, shuts off the engine, and gets out of the car. Confused, I do the same. He leans his arms on top of his car and nods at the apartment house. Which one is yours? Um, ah, come on, Josh. I'd saved your bacon back there.

The least you can do is tell me which apartment is yours. I hesitate before admitting. Top left. That one? He points at my front windows. Yeah. Great. You got any beer?

Beer? Yes, beer. Uh, maybe. I know I have wine. What the fuck am I saying? Wine is even better. I'll walk you up to your place and we can have a glass. I, uh, well, yeah, sure, but, you know, I'm kind of tired.

I pointed my face. And in a lot of pain. He just grins at me. I mean, any other day and I'd totally invite you up. I continue, rambling like a fool. But it's just not convenient right now. He keeps grinning and grinning and grinning. Sure, um, come on up.

I blurt out. Then think to myself. Please don't kill me, Wilson Hobbs. You got nothing to worry about for me, Josh. He reaches into his car to grab a white paper bag. You and me are golden. What's in the bag? My blood, work. He chuckles.

There's no warmth in the chuckle this time. He comes around the car and july. gently pats my shoulder. Let's go have some wine. Yeah, okay. He walks me up to the front door, and when I open it, I'm assaulted by the stench of weak old cabbage and lavender perfume, even with my broken nose.

Mrs. Cornish is standing right in front of me. Have you seen my cat, Joshua? She asks. No, Mrs. Cornish, I say and try to get around her. She blocks my way with her short bulk. The lavender is losing the war, as a little. the cabbage smell wafts off of her in waves. You don't have a cat anymore, remember?

I don't? No, Mrs. Cornish. Oh, all right. Thank you, Joshua. You have a good day. You ain't going to introduce me, Josh? Wilson Hobbs asks. Oh, right.

Yes, um, Mrs. Cornish, this is Wilson Hobbs. He helped me out of a gem today. I did more than that. I saved your biscuits. Save your biscuits. Cornish cackles. Oh, my pop used to say that all the time. I bet he did. Wilson Hobbs takes her by the hand. A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Cornish. The old woman actually blushes, then leans in close. Have you seen my cat? I'm afraid not. She leans back and looks Wilson Hobbs up and down.

What are you? Me? Well, I'm just a guy who likes to help is all. I might even be able to help you find your cat. Oh, you can? That would be wonderful. Wilson, her cat. I began, but he cuts me off as he holds up a hand. Don't you worry, Mrs. Cornish. I will do my best. He crosses his heart.

Hope to die. Mrs. Cornish blinks at Wilson Hobbs a few times. I still don't know what you are. Then she walks off to her apartment door, opens it, and steps inside her place. As she closes the door, I hear her call out. Violet, where are you, Violet?

It's suppertime. The door closes with a loud clack, and Wilson Hobbs turns his grin on me. I believe I was promised wine, he says. Right, sure. Um, this way. We finish another bottle of wine, and I get up to fetch a third,

or is it a fourth? I stagger, and Wilson Hobbs reaches out to steady me. Careful there, Josh. You're on medication, don't forget. Right, right. To numb my face. I make it to the kitchen counter and grab a bottle of Merlot. I hold it up.

And this is to numb my heart. Oh, please. You're better off without Adrian. Wilson Hobbs, sips his wine. You know that, right? I nod, drunkenly. I might have lost account of how many glasses I've had. Totally possible, since I'm unsure what number the bottle of wine in my hand is. And Wilson Hobbs ain't wrong.

Mixing wine with painkillers is one hell of a combo. Sit down before you fall down, pal. Wilson Hobbs says. And before I can blink, I'm at the kitchen table again. The wine bottle open and in front of me. May I? Wilson Hobbs has the bottle and is pouring before I can answer. We talked about kids, I say morosely.

Buying a house and making a life. Sometimes things don't. don't work out. He's still pouring and pouring and pouring. I blink a few times, and his glass is empty. Mine's full, though, and I take a huge gulp. His grin widens, and he pours more wine, and more wine, and more. I lurch up from the table and make it to the sink, just as my belly empties itself.

Yeah, I think we're about ready, Wilson Hobbs says, and his chair scrapes across the floor. Now, where'd I put that blood? My body heaves, and a purple geyser explodes from my mouth. I hit the drain, but it still splashes up on me. The bandages on my face are probably splattered with puke and wine. I grip the sides of the sink with all of my strength as my stomach spasms, trying to force everything out at once. Finally done, I wince as my face throbs.

Hey, Josh, come here a sec, will you? Wilson Hobbs calls from somewhere in my apartment. I want to show you something. The kitchen swirls around me, and I take a tentative step. It all goes sideways, and the next thing I know, I'm being helped up by Wilson Hobbs. Whoa, pal. Gotta be careful, right? I nod. There you go. Now, remember what your neighbor asked earlier?

I shake my head, and the kitchen swirls again. No, no, the living room. We're in the living room now. How did we get here? Did I walk here? Did Wilson Hobbs carry me here? Josh? You listening, pal? I nod.

I'm going to answer my own question for you, since you're looking a little out of sorts. Thanks. I slur. No need to thank me. We're standing in front of a doorway that has no door. I looked down, and the white bag that Wilson Hobbs brought inside

is sitting there off to the side, flattish and discarded. Your neighbor asked what I am, and I played it all. a bit," he continues. I didn't lie, because I am here to help. It's just that what I truly am is complicated. I'd like to say what I am is a fulfiller of dreams.

I know that sounds corny as all hell, but it's true." He gestures toward the door. And this here is how I do that. I don't, I don't understand. Of course you don't. I haven't explained it. He moves me closer to the door, and someone more inside me, a voice cries for me to run, leave everything behind, especially this open doorway

and Wilson Hobbs, and just run. Don't look back, never go back, fucking run! He reaches inside the darkness, and I hear a click. A single light bulb with a simple string switch hangs above what I realize is a staircase leading down, down, down. A wave of dizziness slams through me, and I almost topple forward. Whoa, whoa, hold on there, Josh. Nobs, chuckles. The chuckle sucks the warmth out of the room, sucks it right out of my body. You definitely don't want to fall down those stairs. They shouldn't, I say and then swallow. Whatever is left in my stomach is threatening to show itself.

There shouldn't be stairs there. Shouldn't is such an arbitrary word, Josh. Who says there shouldn't be stairs there, huh? You? Are you in charge of where stairs should and should not be, Josh? No. Neither am I. I just put them where they are supposed to go. In a way, I'm a stairs salesman as much as a dreammaker. Oh, my stomach lurches, but I managed to keep everything down. Where do, where do they go? Irrelevant, especially since you'll never, ever go down them.

Can you promise me that, Josh, that you'll never go down them? Seeing how they stretch on and on, almost like they continue downward forever, it's not a hard promise to make. I nod my head. Gotta hear you say it. Um, yeah, I promise to never, ever go down the stairs. Great, I'm glad we got that worked out. He wraps an arm around my shoulders.

Because what's down there isn't for you. It's for your guests. Guests? Okay, guests might be stretching it a bit. Let's call them people who come over that maybe you aren't too fond of. All you have to do is show them this doorway, and the staircase will do the rest. It knows what it wants, and it knows what it needs. You just provide those wants and needs.

Oh, okay. I try to think about what he is saying, but my head is spinning, and my face hurts, and my stomach is rumbling, and the stairs. The impossible stairs are looking right at me, right into my soul. How about you have a lie down on the couch? Wilson Hobbs turns me around and walks me over to my third-hand couch that is more rips and stains than furniture. The second I'm no longer looking at the staircase,

the world seems more solid, more real, less spinny and swirly. Here you go, Josh, Wilson-Hobbs says. I lie down on my couch and feel a ton better. Do you have any questions? Why? So I can answer them. No. I point toward the staircase.

I don't look at it. Just point. Why did you put that there? Because you seem like a guy who could do with a few dreams coming true. He sits down on the coffee table in front of me and leans in close. Now, Josh, what dream would you like to come true first? I shrug. Ah, come on now.

I know you got one. I think, and Adrian's face pops into my head. I want Adrian back. I bet you do. He nods up and down. The staircase can make that happen. Just ask. Ask?

Ask it to make that dream come true. Right now? No time like the present. Oh, okay. Um, hey, staircase. I want Adrian back. You're going to have to be a little louder than that. I clear my throat.

Staircase! I want Adrian back! A low, deep moan comes rippling up and out of the doorway. Great job! Wilson Hobbs stands up. Well, I gotta go. Thanks for the wine! He walks toward the front door, leaving me slack and helpless on my couch. Then he turns and grins. One last thing, Josh. Well, two things, if I'm being honest. Wait, is there a third thing?

Doesn't matter. The first thing is, tell no one about the staircase. And the second thing is, that dreams aren't free. There's always a price. Think you can handle those two simple rules? What price? I ask, but he's gone, leaving my apartment door wide open. Wilson?

There's no answer, except for a quiet moan that seeps up out of the doorway. Islet, are you in here? The voice brings me around, and I wake up to a splitting headache, a shirt coated in puke, and a blurry image of an old woman shuffling through my apartment. Mrs. Cornish? I ask, and instantly regret it. Just moving my mouth makes my entire face scream in pain. What had been a dull ache is now a fiery blaze of wide-awake nerves. Have you seen my violet, Joshua?

Mrs. Cornish asks me as she wanders my apartment. Mrs. Cornish, how did you get in here? Your door was wide open. Everything from the night before hits me like Guy's fist hit my nose. I lurch upright, almost pass out, almost vomit, and try to get off the couch. I stumble and fall my way across the coffee table, knocking stuff this way and that, and try to get to the open doorway before Mrs. Cornish sees it. What's this? she asks, beating me there by several steps. Does this go to my apartment?

Is Violet in here? Violet! Mrs. Cornish, hold on, wait, I say, tripping over my own feet to get to her. I fall flat on my face, and everything goes black. When I come to again, there's no Mrs. Cornish. I crawl over to the doorway and use the frame to help get to my feet. Mrs. Cornish?

I call into the darkness, careful not to raise my voice too much. I don't need the other neighbors to hear. Plus, even the sound of my own voice is killing my head. There's no reply. Slowly, I reach in and fumble around until I find the string. A quick pull, and the light bulb flicks on, blinding me for half a second. When I'm able to see, all I can do is stare.

The staircase is coated in blood. Blood and hair and pieces of a dress. The same dress Mrs. Cornish was wearing when she came in looking for her cat. I lose the battle with my stomach once again and turn to vomit. When I'm done, I wipe my mouth, say a prayer, and take another look. Yep, the blood and hair and pieces of dress are still there. I see a couple of white things on one of the steps, just above long streaks of blood. Wilson Hobbs' warning to not go through the doorway stops me from getting any closer.

Well, the blood and hair and pieces of Mrs. Cornish's dress help on that front too. I lean as far as I can and squint at the white things. Fingernails? I say out loud, startling myself. Yeah, they are definitely fingernails. And I see long gouges in the wooden stairs just above them. Jesus Christ, what happened here? Did Mrs. Cornish go down the stairs? Or did something pull her down the stairs?

Or both? Footsteps outside my apartment send me into a panic, and I hurry as fast as I can to my apartment to my apartment to do. door. Hey! The college kid who lives across from me says. Then he pauses and frowns. You all right, man? Yeah, did a bit of partying. I closed the door, not caring about his response. I lock the door and go back to the staircase. It's all still there. The blood, the hair, the pieces of dress, the fingernails, the gouges. A deep moan echoes up at me, and I take a couple of steps back. When nothing else happens, I look around.

my apartment and try to figure out what to do next. Cleaning up my vomit might be a good first step, but I need to shower and get some coffee first. I can't clean shit if I'm coated and puk myself. The shower is hot and unforgiving. I blast my skin with scalding water until I feel somewhat normal. I still need coffee though, so when I get out and get dried and dressed and see that I'm all out in the kitchen,

which is weird because I just went shopping. I make the hard choice to leave my apartment and its mess and head down to the cafe. When I get there, I'm relieved to not see Adrian and her guy, guy. Largest coffee you got, I say to the barista. What happened to your face? One of your customers punched me yesterday. Seems like I should get free coffee for that. Um, no. She hands me a tall cup. Carraps her on the bar over there. Help yourself. One refill only, please.

Yeah, been here before. I tap my phone, wait for the chime, then go and fill my cup. I blow on it and take several painful sips. Then I top it off and turn to leave. Josh? Adrian says, standing right behind me. Her free hand goes to her mouth as she stares at my face. Oh, God.

Is that what guy did you? Oh, Josh, I'm so sorry. She comes in for a hug, and I step back. My ass bumping into the coffee bar. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Restraining order, remember? I exclaimed loud enough for everyone in the cafe to hear. Hey, is that woman bothering you, sir? The barista asks.

No, no, she has a restraining order on me. I say. We're good. How is that good? The barista asks. We're fine, thank you. Adrian lifts her empty cup toward me. Mind if I scoot by to get some?

Yeah, sure. I moved to the side. Out of habit, I grabbed two packets of sugar and slide the half and half over to her. She eyes the objects and smiles. I should go. I start to turn. Hold on.

Wait for a second. She says quickly, still smiling. When she finishes filling her cup, it also finishes turning perfectly good black coffee into a dessert. She beams that smile on me. Can we sit? She asks.

What do you mean? I mean, can we sit and talk? I woke up this morning thinking about us and everything that happened between us and all of that nonsense with Guy yesterday. And I really wanted to call you. But I don't have to call now that we've bumped into each other. Is this a trick?

Is Guy hiding somewhere recording this? I don't want to go to jail, Adrian. No trick, no jail. Just talk. I have to really think on it. I want Adrian to come back. The words squeeze themselves from my memory, along with, Dreams aren't free, there's always a price.

A flash of blood and hair and pieces of a dress are hot on the heels of those words. Holy shit, did Mrs. Cornish's death make all this happen? What the hell is down that staircase? Josh, are you all right? Adrian's hand is on my arm, and I have to admit, at this moment, I am all right. Yeah, I sit. She sits across for me. Okay, um, talk.

She sips the concoction she calls coffee, nods a few times, and sets her coffee down. I don't know if it's going to work between Guy and me, and I'm thinking maybe you and I should give it another try. Instead of passing out from shock, which I totally could do at any second, I say. Jesus, dreams can come true. Her hands shoot across the table and grasp mine. Oh, Josh, I think that's true. too. You do? Yes, of course. I'm so sorry I got confused about us, and I'm really sorry for the restraining order. I'll call the courthouse today and see if I can get it dropped, or whatever you do

when you want to cancel a restraining order. You will? Absolutely. How can we explore being together again if you aren't allowed to be within 100 feet of me? I don't know. Well, you can't, but that's going away. She sighs. And so will Guy, Guy, I suppose. It's going to break his heart. He already broke my nose, so I'd call it even. She laughs, hard, like I just told her the funniest joke on the planet. Oh, I'd forgotten your sense of humor. She jumps up, and I flinch because I really have no idea what's happening right now.

I'm going home and calling it off with Guy. Then I'll come by your place later, and we can figure everything out together. Okay. She leans over and kisses my lips, then shivers with pleasure. turns and leaves the cafe without another word so um that happened when I step into my apartment I smell vomit rancid wine and Mrs. Cornish's perfume of cabbage and lavender shit I say and begin a mad dash to get my apartment cleaned up before Adrian arrives Adrian dreams do come true I shout and I would do a little

happy spin but I'm sure it just make me throw up the coffee has helped but not enough to be the amount of wine I drank. Me and Wilson Hobbes. A man who I have no way of getting a hold of. A man who came into and out of my life in a day and changed everything. A man who did what? Used blood from the urgent care clinic to create an impossible staircase? The staircase? Oh shit! Before I dive into cleaning, I need to cover the doorway. I scrounge through a box in my bedroom closet of stuff I had in college. I quickly find the tapestry that hangs in every dorm room America at some time or other, grab a box of push pins off my desk, and hurry to the doorway. Don't go down the stairs. Doesn't mean I can't cover the doorway, I say to myself as I tack

up the tapestry over the frame. A loud banging on my apartment door startles the shit out of me, and I drop the box of pushpins, sending them flying across the floor in every direction. I freeze, not knowing what to do first, pick up the pins, or go answer the door. When the banging comes again, but I actually hear the wood in my door, crack a little. I race that way and check the peep-all. Guy? Open up, asshole. I know you're in there. I can see your shadow under the door. I step a few feet back. He pounce his fists against the door over and over. Blood and hair and pieces of a dress. Shit. Hold on. Hold on. I shout. I look about for a weapon. There isn't one, of course, unless you count a broken umbrella sitting in the corner by the

door. I'll count a three, asshole. One, two, I unlocked the door and yank it open. What the fuck do you want? I ask. He takes one look at me and sneers. She was right. I fucked you up good. Then he barges into my apartment,

grabs me around the neck, slams my door closed with his foot, and choke marches me into my living room. He throws me onto my couch, then stands there and looks around. Smells like a nursing home in here, he says, frowning. Open a window or something, locking. What do you want, guy?

What do I want? I want you to fuck off and stay out of mind in Adrian's life. That's what I want. When I woke up this morning, we were solid. Then she comes home after going to the cafe and tells me she wants to split because she's going to make things work with you? No, sir, not having any of that. She actually did it? She told you she wanted to be with me instead?

You could wipe that fucking grin off your face before I do it for you. I hold my hands up and surrender. Hey, don't blame me. I was just as surprised as you when I ran into her, especially after yesterday. Yeah, that's my fault. Oh? Shit, guy. Thanks for the apology.

I didn't think you'd... I'm not apologizing to you, asshole. I'm saying it's my fault that all this happened. Because if I'd killed you yesterday like I wanted to, then none of this shit would have gone down with Adrian. He looks at my apartment. Where's your butt buddy, huh? I figured he'd stick around after sticking it in you.

Are you? Are you trying to insult me by saying I'm gay? I don't give a shit what you are, asshole. Just stay the fuck away from my woman. The moan escapes through the tapestry, and Guy laughs. Shit, I was right. He spins in a circle. Where are you at, butt, buddy?

Come on out and show yourself so I can kick the shit out of you too. The moon is louder, and Guy stops spinning. With his back to me, he focuses on the tapestry. What's behind here? He asks, and pushes the material aside. Freaking dark. Are those stairs? Jesus, locking?

Do you have a fucking sex dungeon down there? No. I stand up. I have dreams. He looks over his shoulder at me. What fucking dreams does a cum stain like you have? Dreams that come true, like Adrian back in my life. I walk closer, and he turns to face me,

letting the tapestry fall back in place. And dreams of you leading my face? life forever oh is that so he gives me the come-and-get-it gesture bring it bitch I am so gonna fuck you up for good this time I take a step he takes a step my foot hits old hardwood his foot hits a patch of spilled pushpins oh shit he loses his balance and starts to fall backwards oh shit his hands grasp for anything but all they grab is the tapestry pulling it down around him as he falls through the dark doorway

Help me! He screams and then is lost from sight. I hear a few thumps and nothing. After waiting a few seconds, I walked to the doorway and reach in to turn on the light. Guy? When the light comes on, I see him crumpled halfway down the staircase. Guy? You alive? He groans and opens his eyes.

His groan is answered by a bellowing moon. Then, a thousand tentacles erupt from the door. The tentacles erupt from the darkness below, wrap themselves around Guy, and squeeze. My hand goes to my mouth as Guy comes awake, tries to scream, but can't get it out in time before he's crushed to a pulp. I stare. It's all I can do. The tentacles recede and are replaced by a... ...tong? Yeah, that's a tongue!

It lats up the Guy Pulp, leaving only a small amount behind. blood and hair and pieces of jeans and a t-shirt. Oh crap! My phone rings and I jump. My feet come down on pushpins, and for a brief moment I'm afraid I'll share guy's fate. But I stay upright and hurry away from the doorway as I pull my phone out of my pocket.

She asks before I can even say hello. I'm fine, I reply. And other than the severe trauma of watching a man get crushed to death, then slopped up by whatever is down that staircase, It's the truth. I was worried he'd killed you. Nope. He definitely didn't kill me.

Okay, okay. Phew. I can't track his phone anymore. When did he leave? A glance at the doorway. Oh, it's been only a few minutes. I keep staring at the doorway. Um, that may not be the best idea.

Josh, do you want me back in your life or not? Yes, more than anything. Then you have to open yourself up to me. I'll be there in ten minutes. She hangs up, and I think hard on what to do about the doorway and staircase. I'm all out of tapestries. I could pin a sheet up, but she's going to wonder why. An idea hits me, and I race out of my apartment to the one across from mine.

Oh, it's you. The college kid says after he opens his door. Do you have a tapestry? I ask. A tapestry? You know what I'm talking about. You're in college. I bet you have like six hanging on your walls right now.

I try to peek around him. Hey dude, back off, he says before shrugging. Yeah, I have a tapestry. What do you need it for? A woman is coming over, and I need to cover something up. To get what I mean, I give him a wink. No, I don't know what you mean, but hold on. He slams the door in my face. Ten seconds later, he opens the door and shoves a tapestry against my chest.

Here you go. You can keep it. My old roommate left it, and it smells like Doritos. Then he slams the door in my face again. I race back to my apartment and have the tapestry hung, and all the stray pushpins packed up, just as I hear a knock at my door. Hi! I say as I opened the door. Hi.

Adrian says, I couldn't get the restraining order dropped, but I don't care. I just want to be with you! She leaps at me and locks her lips onto mine. The pain in my nose is excruciating, but I don't stop her. When she comes up for air,

she shoves by, and basically twirls into my apartment. I thought I was making the right decision before, but now, all of a sudden, I'm positive this is what's best for us. She stops twirling. We should celebrate. Do you have any champagne? Um, no, but I have some white wine in the fridge.

I say. Get us a glass. No, bring the bottle. We'll drink straight from it like we did back in the old days. Okay, yes, be right back. I hurry into the kitchen. Where's your bathroom? I need to pee before we screw.

She yells from the living room. I can't believe it. This is all happening so fast. My dream is really coming true. It's back in my... Never mind. I found it. She says. What a weird tapestry?

It smells like Doritos. My blood runs cold. Adrian! No! I sprint into the living room. Adrian has one foot through the doorway and looks puzzled. Why has your bathroom down? Tenticles wrap around her and yank her out of sight.

No! I get to the doorway, just as she's dragged down into the darkness. Adrian! I wait for an explosion of blood and hair and clothes. When nothing happens, I call out. Adrian? A quiet scream answers me. Adrian!

There's no way I'm letting her die. I have to go get her. I take one step, just one! And the tentacles are on me. They constrict and squeeze, crushing my ribs. Oh, hey, Josh! Wilson Hobbs says from the doorway as I'm violently pulled down into the darkness. I remembered the third thing and wanted to come by and tell you.

But looks like we're way past that. I'm pulled down the staircase, and the doorway above is only a hole of light that's getting smaller and smaller and smaller. Want to know what the third thing was anyway? He shouts and then chuckles. Be careful, because dreams can turn into nightmares just like that. He snaps his fingers and slams closed a door that hadn't done. been there before. I'm plunged into pure, absolute darkness. A darkness definitely not filled with

dreams.