The NoSleep Podcast - NoSleep Podcast S11E14

Episode Date: September 2, 2018

It's episode 14 of Season 11. On this week's show we have six tales about being tormented and trapped by terrible traumas. "Fun Facts"‡ written by Alyssa N Vaughn and performed by Addison Peacock & Nichole Goodnight & Corinne Sanders & Erin Lillis & Nikolle Doolin & Matthew Bradford. (Story starts around 00:02:35) "The Daredevil Of Catoctin Creek"¤ written by Alex Flanigan and performed by Mary Murphy & Atticus Jackson & Jesse Cornett & Elie Hirschman. (Story starts around 00:24:55) "E is for Elephant"† written by Krys Hookuh and performed by Nikolle Doolin & Erika Sanderson & Peter Lewis. (Story starts around 01:07:00) "The Reason Why I Lock the Door During a Storm"† written by Matt Richardsen and performed by Mike DelGaudio & Nikolle Doolin & Erin Lillis & Dan Zappulla. (Story starts around 01:20:00) "The Box"† written by Ashley Harrison and performed by David Ault & Erika Sanderson & James Cleveland. (Story starts around 01:35:20) "The Stall"† written by Thomas Grave and performed by Graham Rowat & Atticus Jackson & Jesse Cornett & Erika Sanderson. (Story starts around 01:57:30) Click here to learn more about the voice actors on The NoSleep Podcast   Click here to learn more about becoming a Season Pass Member   Click here to learn more about Alyssa N Vaughn   Click here to learn more about Alex Flanigan   Click here to learn more about Krys Hookuh   Click here to learn more about Matt Richardsen   Click here to learn more about Ashley Harrison   Click here to learn more about Thomas Grave   Executive Producer & Host: David Cummings Musical score composed by: Brandon Boone Audio adaptations produced by: Phil Michalski† & Jeff Clement‡ & Jesse Cornett¤ "E is for Elephant" illustration courtesy of Abby Howard Audio program ©2018 - Creative Reason Media Inc. - All Rights Reserved - No reproduction or use of this content is permitted without the express written consent of Creative Reason Media Inc. The copyrights for each story are held by the respective authors. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

This audio program presents horror which is frightening and disturbing. You left us into your mind at your own. The sunlight fades to darkness. The frightful tales creep into your mind. It's time to give it because tonight there will be... Brace yourself for the No Sleep Podcast. It's the No Sleep Podcast. I'm David Cummins. Thanks for joining us.

On the show this week, we have six tales about being tormented and trapped by terrible traumas. With this being the 14th episode of Season 11, that means many of you are eligible for our rent-to-own season pass. If you've purchased this and the previous 13 Season 11 episodes as individual episodes, it means you're ready to be upgraded to a full Season Pass 11. All you have to do is double check on your member page to be. make sure you have purchased all 14 episodes this season. If you have, send us an email at admin at the no sleeppodcast.com and we'll get you upgraded. And please email us from the same email address you use for your membership. That saves us from having to hunt you down in our system.

And if you're not quite at 14 episodes yet, you can still rent to own with future episodes. As long as you purchase 14 season 11 episodes at any point in the, season you're eligible. Simple as that. And as always, we thank you for your support. And since all of that support allows us to produce audio stories for you, I'd say it's time to get them started. Because the tape is in the machine. The stories are ready. So let's press play. In our first tale, we visit a high school for the first class of the day. Time for morning announcements. But as we learn from author Alyssa N. Vaughn, the announcements are divulging strange information which seems to be having a direct impact on the students. Performing this tale are

Addison Peacock, Nicole Goodnight, Corinne Sanders, Aaron Lillis, Nicole Doolin, and Matthew Bradford. So we hope you learn a little from these fun facts. I was bored. Corrections. I was bored and tired. It was a Monday morning, and it was all I could do to stay conscious and thank God that my first period teacher, Miss Stanowski, didn't believe in making students stand for the Pledge of Allegiance. Stinowski did insist on silence until the announcements were over,

so I just sat, chin propped on fist, staring into nothing and yawning. All around me, my close. classmates had adopted similar poses. It was ridiculous, in my opinion, that my school prided itself on being so modern that every classroom was equipped with a smart board and every student was issued their own tablet computer. Yet the morning announcements were still done over the school's old PA system.

The student announcer's voice crackled with static over the speaker in the corner of the classroom. Her words almost unintelligible. Most of the students simply got. the necessary information from the school's website. So there wasn't any point straining their brains trying to make out the gibberish after the pledge. I was resolved to let my own brain completely veg out until Stanowski called us back to attention.

But I tuned in ever so slightly when the robotics, or it might have been the athletics department announced, a pizza fundraiser at lunch. Therefore, I was one of the only ones paying attention when, after a slight pause, a nervous voice came over the loudspeaker. It was quiet and kind of mumbly. It sounded like a little girl, like a kindergartner or something.

Despite the speaker's lack of confidence, the quality of the audio seems to have improved dramatically. So it was actually quite easy to hear what she said. They lived for weeks without their heads, and the hen can live on its own for days if refrigerated. I could feel my face twist involuntarily with disgust. Another pause. Longer this time.

The voice of the regular announcer girl came back on. Go Falcons. Freed from the no-talking rule, the classroom quickly filled up with noise. I stared at Myra, the girl sitting across from me. Was that some kind of joke? Myra looked confused. What? Savannah, I didn't say anything.

I gestured vaguely at the ceiling. A weird announcement. A cockroach thing. Maya looked even more lost. I didn't hear anything about a cockroach. Are you missing with me? Never mind. I felt wrong-footed.

Like someone was playing a joke on me, but I hadn't caught on. Myra was still looking at me as I pulled out my tablet. Are you okay? I'm fine. I blushed a bit and turned my attention to the day's assignment. Although my hair, falling in tightly spiraled curls, blocked Myra's view of my face, I could still feel the other girl glancing over for the whole class period.

No one else mentioned hearing anything strange, and I had no desire to draw any more attention to myself. I did my best not to think about it for the rest of the day. I would have done very well, except for what happened in chemistry class. Miss Gregory, the chem teacher, was notorious for two things, being constantly mistaken for one of the freshmen and having an enormous stash of Diet Coke's in the mini-fridge under her desk.

That day, when she went for another can-made lecture, she didn't even look away from her PowerPoint. Why would she? It was as natural a movement as scratching her head. None of the students even took note. Not even me, until there was a clatter and a scream. Miss Gregory had tipped over a plate that she later insisted had not been in the fridge the last time she had opened it. When it had fallen, it scattered dismembered cockroach heads all across the classroom floor,

their antenna still twitching. That night while I lay in bed, I couldn't stop thinking about the announcement, about the plate next to Gregory's Diet Coke, which the teacher had piled next to the trash can refusing to open a single one. I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and opened a browser. It only took moments to find out that the weird fact from that morning was true.

I assumed that meant it was unlikely that I had misheard the voice or imagined it. I couldn't imagine why someone would pull such a strange prank, especially when I seemed to be the only one aware of both parts. When I finally fell asleep, it was fitful, tossing and turning, and I dreamt of itchy, hairy legs crawling across my bare arms. Legs connected to bodies with no heads. The next morning, I listened more carefully to the announcements. It put a little strain on my ears, but I could just about make them out. bake sale, choir practice, senior retreat, blah, blah, blah. Then, a pause.

I reached out and poked Myra with my pencil. The other girl looked slightly annoyed, but I simply raised my eyebrow and pointed to the speaker. The same shaky, meek little voice came on, as clear as if she was standing in the classroom. An average bed contains up to six million, dust mites. They feed on the dead cells human shed when they sleep. Ew. There was another long pause, and then the announcements continued as if there had been no interruption. Chess

club meeting, student council elections, volleyball tournament, and... Go fowkins! As the class broke out in soft conversations, I looked at Myra triumphantly. See? Myra scrunched up her nose. That was weird. Maybe it's some kind of prank. Maybe. I felt a little more settled since someone else had heard the voice, too.

Did you hear about what happened in chemistry yesterday? The cockroach thing? So gross. Myra shivered. Then her eyes widened. Yesterday, when you said... I leaned forward. Yeah.

It's too weird, right? They have to be connected. Myra looked uncomfortable. Does that mean... Does that mean that something is going to happen today? My excitement faded. I really hadn't considered that. Myra and I saw each other in the hall a few times that day.

And the looks we exchanged were more and more tense. Nothing seemed to happen. I was at my locker, gathering. my things after my last class when Myra ran up. Did you hear anything? No. Did you? No. I turned

almost dejectedly back to my locker. Myra visibly relaxed. So it was just a dumb prank? Nothing's going to happen? Down the hall. Only a few yards away. The locker room doors burst open.

The entire boys' basketball team tore down the hall screaming at the top of their lungs, tearing their uniforms off as they want. Before Myra and I could register what was happening, the hall was quiet again. Nothing left but a trail of discarded shorts, jerseys, and socks. I picked up the closest jersey. I looked closely at the white fabric, barely visible. I could see tiny, anthropotic creatures swarming over the entire thing.

I yelped and dropped it. What is it? I slammed my locker shut, grabbed Myra's arm, and ran for the nearest exit. I changed my bed sheets twice before I was able to fall asleep that night. DA regulations can't fruit juice can contain one maggot for every 250 milliliters. By Wednesday, I heard quite a few other people in the classroom whispering about the strange addition to the morning announcements and its real-world counterparts. Stinowski, still oblivious, I guessed, got on to everyone about talking at inappropriate times. I was slightly relieved to see that it

wasn't just our class either. Although the cafeteria ran out of milk cartons and water bottles almost immediately, their supply of juice remained untouched. Kids were simply going without a drink. Mrs. Peters, one of the vice-principals and an impossible battle-ax of a woman, was on lunch duty and seemed to think that everyone was being ridiculous. She stormed over to the kids in the lunch line and demanded to know why they weren't drinking juice. Don't you know that if you do not drink this juice, we must throw it out? And if we throw it out, it will be reflected in our budget as waste. and if we have waste in our budget

we will not get that money back next year I privately wondered if that was indeed how things worked the student at the front of the line mumbled something no one could hear Mrs. Peters laughed derisively There is absolutely nothing wrong with the juice She took a bottle from the cooler Every single person in the cafeteria stopped moving.

Mrs. Peters handed the lunch lady a dollar. I'll prove it. She could have whispered. Everyone would have heard her. It was so quiet. She opened the bottle. No one breathed. She drank.

See? Perfectly fine. The lunch lady grabbed Mrs. Peter's shoulders and whispered in her ear. Mrs. Peters turned white and ran out of the room, dropping the bottle of juice on the ground. It spilled all over the floor. Even where I was sitting, maybe ten yards away, I could see that floating in the puddle were wiggling, brown maggots.

I sat at the kitchen table long after my mom and brothers had finished dinner, picking at the food on my plate. I had no appetite. I wondered if this was the kind of thing that would be classified. classified as a senior prank. But as I made a face at the quinoa salad, my mother insisted I would like, despite its vague resemblance to something else I had seen that day.

I thought that senior pranks were the kinds of things that people took credit for. Or at the very least, they were funny instead of creepy. On Thursday, even Stinowski heard the voice. Some bugs inject their toxic saliva into their prey, turning the insides into liquid, which can then be sucked out through their straw-like mouth. She stared at the speaker with her eyebrows knitted together. Her mouth twisted and puckered like she had just sucked on a lemon.

For a minute I thought she was going to say something, but she turned and refused to acknowledge it, plunging ahead with her lecture on ancient Egyptian artwork. I did notice that she skipped each photograph that included a depiction of a scarab. In most of my classes, someone brought up the strange voice and the gross bug facts, and the teachers in turn airily proclaimed it to be not relevant to our work today. But eventually, I talked with Jorge Martinez, whose younger brother had algebra with Hannah Kobayashi,

whose boyfriend was best friends with Seth Rudy, who sometimes filled in for the announcements girl. Apparently, the announcements girl had no idea that anything weird had been happening at all. Hannah also told Jorge, who told me, that all the teachers had emailed the principal and the vice principal, and no one could figure out how someone would hack into the PA system without the announcement girl realizing. The system should have been essentially unhackable,

unless one of the students had a lot of experience with electronics from the 80s. Strangely, no bugs were spotted at all that day, not in anyone's food or in any of the classrooms or halls or anywhere. in the school. There weren't any pranks. While I was waiting for my mom to pick me up that afternoon, I could tell that almost every person hanging around the school parking lot was talking about the announcements. I saw Myra over by the tennis courts, sitting on the hood of her boyfriend's car, surrounded by her girlfriends. They were shrieking so loudly, flapping their hands and giving exaggerated shivers that I barely heard my mom honking the car's horn as she pulled up.

I barely slept that night. My curiosity ate at me as I wondered why whoever was behind this campaign of creepy had chosen to take a break today. Why would they wait until they had the whole school's attention to call it all off? Did the teachers know more than we suspected? I shifted uncomfortably under the covers, trying not to think of everything that had happened. Before this week, I hadn't counted insects among my particular set of phobias,

but I wasn't so sure I'd be able to sit, lay, or eat comfortably anymore. I was walking into the school Friday morning when Jorge grabbed me by the arm. Did you hear? His face was pale. I shook my head, trying not to feel resentful that once again I was hearing information secondhand. One of the girls from the tennis team is dead. They found her on the court this morning before practice. Oh my God.

I covered my mouth with my hand. My petty feelings about not being the school's Veronica Mars didn't fade so much as evaporate. I couldn't believe that this had escalated from some dumb pranks to murder. Jorge's grip on my arm tightened. Savannah. He leaned in close.

They're saying she didn't have anything inside her. No blood, no organs. They'd all been drained away. The first bell rang, and Jorge, let go of me and hurried away without another word. I felt nauseous. I leaned against the wall for a moment, trying to process what Jorge had said. It could have been a dumb rumor, or he could have been messing with me. I glanced to my right, through the glass doors into the front office. The receptionist and the secretary had their heads together and were talking seriously.

Mrs. Peter's office door just down the hall will slightly open. Is that a police officer in side? I had only moments to decide whether my curiosity was strong enough for me to do the unthinkable, skip class, and start sneaking around, looking for answers. Mrs. Peters and an honest-to-God police officer walked out of the office, through the glass doors, and walked quickly toward the tennis courts. Apparently, that Veronica Mars' wannabe detective streak hadn't disappeared completely. I hid in the bathroom by the front office and witty. waited to hear the pledge start. Then, slowly, carefully, I snuck past the reception desk and into the maze of hallways that housed the faculty offices,

principal, vice-principals, the counselors, and the attendance clerk. There was a conference room where the announcement girl sat with the PA mic in a dead end in the very back, hidden conveniently around a blind corner. If I was going to look for answers, I should start there, kneeling just outside. I cracked the door and peeked inside. There was the girl. She looked young enough to be a freshman, but I assumed she was at least a sophomore

because the faculty had left her completely alone in the room. She sat, reading from a sheet of paper on the desk in front of her, into an old-fashioned microphone. There didn't seem to be anything else in the windowless room aside from the desk and a few chairs. So no weird bug kid in here. I was about to sneak back out when the girl froze. Her head fell forward, hair falling like a curtain obscuring her face.

A long pause from her throat rasped that frightened, whispery voice. Insects are the most abundant complex organism on the planet. At this very moment, legions and the quadrillions hatch below your very feet, Above your heads and in your walls. No matter how far you run, they will find you. They will already be there. Her head suddenly snapped up, and she stared directly at me with blank, white eyes.

They are coming for you. I scrambled backward, and, forgetting my stealth completely, ran out of the office and straight to Miss Stinowski's room. By the time I got there, everyone was chattering. Some enthusiastically, some rolling their eyes in exasperation. Stanowski looked completely out of her depth trying to get everyone to quiet down. She whirled on me, zeroing in on a problem she could solve more easily. Savannah, you had better have a hall pass or I'll have to call the...

At the same time, I began to shout. We have to call an ambulance. There's something really wrong with the girl who does the announcements. I was so loud that the rest of the class finally stopped talking to stare at me. If there was a bet for which kid would end up in a screaming match with a teacher, none of them would have put a dime on me. They sat on the edge of their seats, eyes practically falling out of their heads as they pieced together exactly what I had been doing.

Stanowski hurried over, placing her hands on my shoulders and looking me over. In a fleeting moment of clarity, I wondered if the teachers had been given some, kind of warning about the girl on the courts. Are you all right? Did someone try to hurt you? No, no, listen to me. It's that announcement girl that needs help. I think she's having some kind of nervous breakdown

or she's schizophrenic or something. And if someone really was hurt out on the tennis courts... Okay, okay. Stanowski tried to shush me and glanced nervously at the other kids in the class. I'll call Mrs. Peters and you can... She was cut short. Across the room,

Myra screamed, pointing to the speaker. Miss Stanowski's gentle hands on my shoulders became vise-like pinches as she instinctively drew us both back toward the door. From the ceiling tiles around the speaker, many-legged creatures emerged, crawling, wriggling, creeping, until the whole of the ceiling was a black, thriving mass. Without waiting for direction or permission, the entire class ran for the door. Some holding their laptops over their heads like shields as bugs began dropping onto the desks and the floor. No one got very far.

At the end of the hall, a black puddle seemed to be inching its way forward. One that was made of exoskeletons, hairy, skittering legs and compound eyes. The speaker crackled to life behind us. One last time. coming for you. Everyone can use a bit of extra confidence now and then, a bit more bravery. But in this tale from author Alex Flanagan,

we meet a young woman who learns of a man who can inspire people to go beyond their fears, in some cases, well beyond their fears. Performing this tale are Mary Murphy, Atticus Jackson, Jesse Cornett, and Ellie Hirschman. So let's follow the trend. and meets the daredevil of Catocton Creek. When I think about that summer, I feel cold.

Not on the outside, no. Lord knows it was scorching hot out there on the mountain that year. Morning stick with a haze that hung on the hills and filled up your lungs. Made smokers of us all, I reckon. I remember thinking at the time that hell had come to rain on earth. that Satan had gone right ahead and set up his dominion just as nice and regular as you please. While we were all of us sleeping one night,

I don't think it any less now. I had just turned 13 of a muggy June morning and was laying out on the porch lazily making grass whistles with Ory. Ory was a bookish sort of kid my age. He had these glasses that were always fogged up that summer. So every time you looked at him He had this sort of dreamy, distant look about him Like he wasn't quite seeing the same things as everyone else

Not that he'd look me in the eyes anyway He liked me, I guess Because he never stopped looking at me Except when I looked at him But he was at least quiet about it Which was nice And anyway, he was good enough company Until you said something that made him go red-faced

and then he got sullen, and that was all you'd get out of him for the day. On this morning, though, he was all distant smiles and dozy contentment, at least until Trick showed up. The presence of Trick Murphy was likely enough to put anyone in a foul mood of a given morning, especially Ory, who didn't much care for him at all, though he'd never come right out and say it. For my part, I found Tricktis tasteful but interesting. In the same way, you might follow a particularly gross bug around your backyard just to see what it got up to,

and whether it could really be as awful as everyone said. Usually it could, but at least at that point you'd made something of the time, instead of just Wilton in the heat. So that was something. Trick was two years my senior and built like a barn. Never figured there was much going on between his ears, so maybe I wasn't as wary of him as I ought to been. Still, he managed every now and again

to rally up whatever single thoughts may have been struggling to survive up there and turned him into a scheme that hooked my interests. So I never got around telling him off entirely. In the lazy summer heat, A lot of things seemed like a good idea that winter sense would have nipped directly in the bug. This morning was no exception. Molly Rose Picky! He approached the porch with his hands cupped around his mouth, and a toothy grin on his broad face.

And ory Keller, you two-hid sick of laying around yet? Figure not, on account of we still doing it. I twirled a particularly promising piece of grass between my fingers, considering its potential before discarding it with its many fallen brethren. Well, stop doing it. Trick crossed his arms and came to stand next to the porch. Ory froze up, his shoulders going tense, and his eyes are narrowing behind those foggy frames.

I got something better. Better by who's figuring? "'Can't be worse than Wilton under this heat.' "'Ori still wouldn't face it directly, "'but I think that smile, Sweden. "'I couldn't tell you if I felt guilty about that in the moment or not. "'I truly don't recall. "'But looking back on it now, I think I might.

"'Suppose I oughtn't to. "'But that doesn't make much difference. "'I stood up off the porch, "'dusted my hands on. off and turn into face a trick. Show us what you got. With a toothy grin and a puff of his chest, he turned to lead us off toward whatever interest and unpleasantness he no doubt had in store.

He had a sort of swagger in his walk, and it almost made me wonder if he'd been mucking around in his daddy's moonshine still again. But his words weren't slurred, and he didn't miss a beat ducking around trees and overfallen fence, as we traips through the shade. If something had a hold of Trick's brain, it wasn't liquor. After about 20 minutes of weaving through neighbor yards and back farm lots, I had a sense of where he was taken us,

and judging by the look on Ory's face, he did too. The trees and barnyards fell away to rocky soil, which fell away to packed dirt, which fell away to the slick smell of rust and oil, and a cool breeze that gusted up from somewhere far below. The trestle? Ori stopped dead in his tracks, wrinkling up his nose. What did you bring us here for?

What? You scared? Trick wheeled on him, a grin stretching his face as he leered over the smaller boy. No, it's just... I sent it before. Don't know why you brung us. Thought you had something new. Yeah, you're scared. It's all right. You won't be for long. That's what I aim to show you. But we ain't going to the trestle yet. Just over there. He pointed to our side of the trestle, about a quarter mile back, where the rail tracks cross the regular road and a big X. That's a crossroads, dummy. You never seen one before?

I've seen a crossroads. Trick's voice ticked upward a notch. A sure sign I'd gotten under his collar. I didn't care. I even thought it was funny sometimes. Trick was real easy to get going. And after all this walking, I wanted something interesting to happen that wasn't just staring at a railroad crossing.

It's what's at the crossing that you ain't seen a for. Ori and I exchanged a glance. My curiosity and his good sense mollified enough to follow a bit further at least. Satisfied that he'd called our attention again. Trick urged us onward. Now come on. I don't want to keep him waiting. Him? I thought.

And the shiver that ran instinctively down my spine whispered of things I didn't have a name for. And still don't. Even to this day. Trick led us over to the railroad crossing with that same swaggering confidence. When he reached the intersection, he cupped his hands around his mouth, and called out in a booming voice to what seemed like no one in particular. Jack, get out where I can see you.

Ori and I looked at each other again. He looked directly into my eyes, and his glasses were clear as a day, and so was the fear written on his face. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but either couldn't find the words or scared himself too much thinking I'm up. I glanced around, looking for whoever this Jack was,

and dancing at the thought we might be about to meet some trouble. Still, whatever I was expecting, it wasn't what happened next. Jack! Trick called again. wandering into the center of the intersection. At that moment, he ran straight into a fella I could have sworn hadn't been standing there a blink before,

and his face gleamed with recognition. So this was our Jack then, a tall, gangly sort of man and a dapper pinstripe suit, dusty with the dirt that swirled around his feet, and a wind I couldn't feel. By some trick of the light, It was impossible to tell if his clothes were black or a deep, deep red. I felt like if I knew, I'd already be too close to unlearn something terrible.

His skin was frightfully pale, but sort of sallow. Somehow, waxy, like a mask, maybe. But it stretched and creased like a face ought to as he pulled his thin lips back in a gambler's grin. I wasn't ever a superstitious person. You have to believe that. But in my gut, I knew immediately we were looking at something beyond our understanding. This Jack, whoever or whatever he was, only draped this body over the truth of him, like a sheet over a Halloween ghost. I shivered again.

There you are. About time you showed. Respect meant. Jack's voice was like well-oiled gears, metallic velvet, and it rumbled beneath itself in octaves I felt more than heard. He grinned, and my heart raced. I heard Ory catch his breath next me. Please, I take it.

This year's Ory, and that's Molly Rose. He's pretty yellow, she ain't. Trick pointed, jabbing at us with a thwart. thumb over his shoulder, as if we were merely accessories to whatever he had in mind. It struck me funny that trick seemed to think he was in charge of whatever was happening here, and maybe even funnier that Jack seemed to let him. Jack looked at us then, with sharp blue eyes, that flashed yellow for a second in the sun. Jack Dandy, that's your service.

What are you? Before I could stop the words from falling out of my mouth. The question had burned behind my lips for too long. It nearly seared my tongue on the way out. This seemed to delight him in his quiet, uncanny way. You're a right, trick. You're a... what? A devil before, Ory.

Jack was suddenly illumine over him, that same smile on his unsettling face. The same, you child. I'm here to help you, imagined. Find your nerve. How do you mean? Easy is pushing a stuck car to get her started, child. If you can believe it, you let old Jack Dandy be the push. And we'll just see how far you can go. Yes, sir.

Might surprise yourself. So we just let you push. And how do we know this ain't a trick? What do you get out of us? At the mention of the word, Trick himself became irritated, as if he'd taken it personally and didn't care for us being suspicious of his grand game. Since Winnie, you won for rules. You too scared to stop being scared?

It's easy. You just got to let Jack slip inside and he'll do the rest like he says. You done it? I crossed my arms. Equal parts to show I was skeptic and to play off the shivers that came from. now frightfully often. When? Last night.

Trick puffed out his chest and grinned. Jack watched him with quiet amusement. Shook his hand and we climbed up on top of the roof of the depot. Easy as lived. Liar, you've been talking about climbing up on that old broke-down depot for years and ain't never done it. I have now. You in or ain't you? Easy does it, Trit. Jack stopped him with that oil slick voice of his.

No sense in play. I'm ready. The word slipped out of my mouth without meaning to, and I couldn't tell you why. But once they were there, I wasn't about to take him back. I ain't scared of you, Jack Dandy, and you neither, edget. I stuck my tongue out at Trick for good measure. He didn't seem to like it, and I was glad for it. Jack, on the other hand, just watched me with those cool,

devil-blue eyes. Molly, don't be crazy. Let's just go. Please. Let's go, Molly Rose. She ain't going to run away with you. Trick laughed. Before I had a chance to voice my own mind on the matter.

You don't know a damn thing about Molly Rose Pickett if you'd think she'd rather play tea party on the porch with you than do something real. Ory looked at me, wounded. and I felt a flush rise to my face. I wanted to argue, to put Trick in his place. But he trapped me between a line and apology, and either I offered would have made me more vulnerable than I'd have liked.

I didn't even have the time to choose, as it were. Maybe you ought to ask Jack here to kiss her for you, since he ain't never going to do it yourself. This final jab from Trick was too much for Ory, who didn't say a word before. he turned and ran. Tears flooding from his eyes as he bolted back toward home and quiet. I felt my stomach turning as I watched him go, hating myself for having nothing to say. I didn't particularly want a kiss, Ory. Never had, but I felt sick that had been used to hurt my friend without my having

a saying it. I turned to speak my mind to trick, but the words died in my mouth. The grin on his face and the size of him put me off of the mood to start a fight. In some dark, deep place inside me, I suddenly knew exactly what use I might have for a daredevil like chap dandy. Guess some fellas ain't even got the nerve to ask for more of it. Trick snorted, oblivious to the quiet monster of a mood growing inside me. I bawled my fists and said nothing. He turned to face Jack, clearly proud of himself.

What are we going to do first today, Jackie? You know, but isn't a given already God. Trick rolled his eyes. I don't care about your stupid rules. He spit on the ground to help make his point. Just take me cross the trestle. What happened next? Burned itself into my eyes like a lightning flash.

One second, Trick and Jack Dandy stood apart. Two figures different as night and day. In the next, Jack reached out one of his two long arms and placed a hand on Trick's shoulder. Then the devil was gone, or he wasn't, because I saw him clear in my mind's eye when I looked at Trick. It was powerfully uncanny. One time when I was real young,

I fell out of the apple tree in the backyard. and couldn't get my hands under me in time. For an hour after I came to, everything I saw was laid over itself, like I was seeing two worlds at once, just far enough apart to note the difference. This was something like that. There was trick,

and there was Jack Dandy, and they were the same but not, in one place yet different. moving as one but moving apart. I blinked and the vision was gone, but the trick Murphy I saw winked at me with ice-blue eyes. I watched him move as if in a dream, following behind at a slight distance while we walked down the road to the ravine.

He strode up to the edge of the trestle with an easy confidence, not the swaggering bravado I'd seen so many times. but a shore-footed Darren that looked as natural as breathing. He didn't pause at the trestles edge, not even to mark his first step. He simply walked up to the yawning cliffside and then kept right on walking, one foot in front of the other,

with no mind for the slats in between that spelled certain death. There was a certain beauty to it, a kind of grace that came with the power and the breathlessness of the whole thing. Jack, Trick, and Danger were doing a dizzying dance over a drop of nearly a hundred feet, and I couldn't tear my eyes away. The voice next to my ears startled me so bad, I nearly jumped right out of my skin. And the thing it belonged to laughed at my fright. I thought he was with...

I stammered in the face of Jack Dandy, trying to wrap my mind around what I saw while also working to slow my Jack Rabbit heart. Off in the distance, I could still see Tric, jaunting along the trestle without skipping a beat. Yet here was Jack clear as death, which meant he watched my face casually with those sharp blue eyes.

smiling in the carefree way anyone might have watching a boy about to fall to his certain death. It's like I said. I don't understand. For several uneasy minutes, I stood stone still next to him. Unable to tear my eyes away from Trick, as he worked his way across a trestle with fearless confidence. I wondered if he knew he was acting alone, or what finding out would do to him. I told myself I refrained from shouting out for fear of causing him to fall. But maybe it was morbid curiosity that stayed my lips.

Maybe something worse. He reached the other side, and without hesitation, turned easily around and came back. The whole ordeal couldn't have taken more than a few minutes. It felt like an age passed from where we were standing. I didn't realize until I nearly fell that I'd been holding my breath, and I was staggering forward, dizzy and gasping for air. I caught my balance and quickly snapped my gaze back up to the trestle just in time to see Trick make the last few steps,

and for Jack to slip back into his body as he did so. Trick stomped over to where I stood, crossing his arms over his chest, haughtily as he sneered down at me. Oh, what's the matter with you? You ain't the one just crossed the trestle. Just don't feel so good. I muttered, pushing myself up from the ground and averted my eyes from Jack Trick.

It wasn't just an excuse either. I did feel sick. Jack now stood behind him, given the appearance of just having severed their bond for the first time, but a smirk that knew too much flickered at the corners of his narrow lips, and I felt a scream trapped in my throat. I had to leave. Well, get up and let's do something.

I think I better go home, Trick. Tomorrow, maybe. I turned to go. I wasn't about to wait around to be bullied out of my better judgment this time around. I could feel Trick's irritation, and Jack's cool, unwares. I was a wavering gaze on my back all the way home. I stumbled back to my house half in a day's,

but whether I felt sick from the heat or something else entirely was hard to figure. I can tell you a sight that didn't do a thing to live my spirits, though. Ory was crying on my porch. As I walked up, he noticed me and dried his tears hastily, standing up. I thought maybe I could see his legs trembling, but that might have been fancy on my part. Either way, he was scared stiff. I couldn't blame him.

Molly? The look on my face must have steeled him, because soon the words came pouring out. Molly, I don't trust trick none, not now and not ever, but especially not with that devil of his. I don't. I- Easy, orie, killer. I get you. Don't have to convictive. Vince me none. I walked past him, putting my hand on the thornob. I only wanted to get inside and sleep for a bit.

To think nothing of the world or my place in it. His next words froze me where I stood. I saw him last week. You saw what? Jack Dandy. He hurried, slipping himself between me and the screen door, so my eyes had to. meet his. They were earnest, truthful in a way I wish they hadn't been.

And trick. Last week, at the crossroads. I thought I dreamt it. I was walking out that way, a bit late and hungry, and it's been so hot, you're fancying things, Ori, I said, but I know I weren't. He didn't meet that fella this morning, Molly Rose, and not last night neither. I don't know what he's got up his sleeve, and I don't fancy knowing, but it's scarce, me. Please don't go messing with them. Please. I know how you like to get up to mischief. And I would never tell you not to, but for this once, Molly. You got to. Ori, I have a headache. I'm going to go lay down for a bit. You get yourself home. Don't worry on my account. I don't mean to get mixed up in it. My voice frightened me a bit in its calmness.

But... Later, Orie. I push past him and let the door close. behind me, climbing the stairs to my room without a backwards glance. I must have fallen asleep unless in an instant, because the next thing I remember was waking up. Not a natural waking, though. Something had jarred me up. I lay still for a second, trying to figure out what it was. The sharp crack of another pebble against my window answered my question before reason or memory could. I sat up, sudden they, throwing open the pain. Tessbrate proved to myself anything other than what I already felt in my gut was true. Trick stood on the grass below, a wild grin behind his

eyes, and another rock already in his hand. Trick, put that down. You're like to break something. You're drunk. Me and Jack made pretty quick work of Daddy's liquor cabinet, I reckon. His grin. split his face even further. Might not have dared on my own, but that no matter much now, do it. Keep your voice down, you idiot. I felt fear rising hot and bitter in my throat. He hadn't come all this way just to get himself into trouble. Whatever Trick wanted, I wanted no part of it.

Trick Murphy ain't afraid of nothing, or no one. He howled again, beating his chest with his fist, and gesturing as if he dared someone to rise. from slumber and just try to tell him otherwise. He might not have been afraid of anyone, but I realized in that moment I was afraid of him. Go home, Trick. Go to bed. I hope my voice was steadier than it felt.

No way, no how. Got a feeling like I want to go shoot cans out by the train tracks. If my daddy's gun and came here to see if you had a mind to join me. Can't say I do. You have fun, trick. I made as if to pull the window shut, and he simply shook his head. I saw the glint of metal in the moonlight, and my blood ran cold. See, I don't think you reckon it right, Molly Rose.

I already have my daddy's gun, and I plan to go shooting tonight, one way or another. Think you might prefer it on this end. I didn't know what to say, what to do. Whatever I did next, I did it without any union between mind and body. I ended up down in the dooryard in front of Trick, shivering despite the heat. I knew being found out at the house at this hour would mean trouble, and still I wished for it. I wished for just about anything except what I got. I walked along behind Trick as he went, lingering just far enough behind to avoid the smith.

mail of liquor and the threat of the gun, but close enough not to anchor him. About halfway to the train tracks, I risked falling back a step further. Jack, Jack, are you there? He glimmered into view beside me, a graceful specter whose feet never quite touched the ground. His eyes were level, perhaps slightly apologetic, though maybe I only wished it. We both watched the back of Trick's head for a response and were satisfied his attention was elsewhere, at least for now. Can you help me? It was all I could do to keep the crazy I felt from creeping into my voice. Was I a fool for asking a devil in? To have a choice? Jack Dandy promised bravery, and oh God did I need it. His eyes flickered with curiosity. My stomach hitched again, but I muscled it down. Can we run?

My voice cracked, and I flinched. Afraid Trick would hear. He didn't. Would he help me run and find someone and tell them on Trick? He shook his head, almost sadly, almost fondly. But that's your bargain to make. I felt hot tears streaking down my face as hope withered within me. I knew I couldn't.

He knew it too. Trick knew it more unlikely. which is why he didn't need Jack's help, or my willingness, or anything else. It didn't take bravery to trap someone who was already caged. I thought of little else on our moonlit walk. Jack stayed mostly beside me, flickering in and out of sight sometimes, as the dappled moonlight played across his form.

I wondered what he really looked like, with his humanish costume stripped away. I tried to think of the scary, face I could think of, and kept coming back to Trick Murphy, drunk on his daddy's liquor, and the feel of savage gunmetal. I'd never much love that boy, but any amount of warmth I may once have felt had iced and bristled in my stomach. I was afraid of him, and I hated him, and I hated being afraid. I wondered if Jack Dandy would give me the nerve to break the gun across that boy's awful face.

I didn't get the chance to ask. Suddenly, Trick stopped up ahead where the train tracks sprawled in front of us. We were down by the crossroads again, over by the depot, where I assumed Trickett set his eye on the fence rail boy sometimes used to set up cans for target practice

against the station master's wishes. He didn't make as if to go for the fence rail, though. He didn't make as if to do it. anything. He just stood there a moment, quiet like, looking at me with an expression I'd never seen before. I never wanted to again. His eyes didn't have the unfocused look of a drunk man. They were predator keen and roving my face. I felt sick. You know what? I don't think I'm in the mood to go shooting anymore. All right. I wanted to shout at him for bringing me all All this way only to turn back, but some instinct, older and wiser than myself.

Born of mothers back generations ago, stayed my tongue. I kept my eyes on his gun and kept my voice as calm as I could manage. All right, that's fine, trick. No shooting. We'll head on home then. Now wait just a minute. He barked out a laugh. We ain't come all this way to go back home. Fine night like this, moonshining down, and boy, do you look awful good in the moonlight Molly Rose picket? He must have seen something change in my face, because a scowl darkened his features in an instant.

Yes, you get over here. Got me in mind to kiss Molly Rose. Maybe more. Some other devil may. I felt my knees about to give way under me. My heart hammered in my chest, and my mind screamed at me to run, but no two parts of me could seem to work together. I froze, tears streaming down my face, next to a bully and a daredevil, and feeling very much afraid. You said, listen to me. We made a deal.

Jack's face was cool, implacable. His ice blue eyes glinted. Once liked the moonlight off the gun. And then he was gone. He'd not gone into Trick. He'd not gone anywhere I could see. He was just gone. Trick whirled around. Pointing the gun at anything and everything.

I whimpered softly when its sights landed on my chest. And he seemed to remember himself then. Before I could stammer out an argument, he closed the distance between us. Grabbing me roughly and pulling me up and pressing his mouth against mine. I felt the barrel of the gun pressing to my stomach and the sour taste of moonshine on my lips. Fear and steel and hatred filled my senses. He finally pulled away, and I choked for air as he maintained his grip on my shoulder.

He looked fit to yell at me, but a train whistle split the night air around. We found us. He jerked his head around to see which way it was coming from, and then gripped my wrist to pull me away. Come on, behind the depot. No one will spot us there. I didn't want to go behind the depot. I didn't want for no one to spot us.

I didn't want to think about what followed that horrible kiss. And I didn't want anything more to do with this place. Suddenly, I didn't care if I got shot. I didn't care if I bled out here on the train. bled out here on the train tracks if it meant getting away from Trick Murphy. I pulled, hard, throwing all my weight into resist him being drug off. What's the matter with you? Get off. We're moving. He was bigger and stronger than me, but I had nothing to lose.

I fought and kicked and pulled. Jack, Jack, help me. Let's run. Let's do anything, Jack! Trick grew more furious at the sound of Jack's name, and before I understood what happened, I felt a sharp staying across my face. I gasped and fell to the ground, free of Trick's grasp, but staring up into the barrel of the gun

with this handprint, no doubt, blazed across my face. Jack was nowhere to be seen. The train keened again. Closer now. Soon it'd be whipping past us. Get up. Jack ain't here. Neither is your stupid boyfriend. It's just you. Get up. I looked around wildly for any sign of the devil. I no longer cared about consequence. I just desperately needed the nerve to do something, anything, anything but go with trick behind the depot.

My head spun wildly, overtaken by fear and nausea and pain, and the whistling of the truck. train. Trick reached down to grab my shirt. Without understanding what I was doing, I kicked him square between the legs. He crumpled for a moment, howling in shock and agony, and I scrambled to my feet. I kicked the gun away from him, away from both of us, and it skittered to a stop but doesn't beat away, clear of us and the train tracks, and anyone who could use it. I could have run then. I could have dashed all. picked up the gun on my way, blown free into the woods. I was faster. I had a head start. I could have run. I could have run. I didn't.

Almost without thinking. Almost without even being in control of my own body. I reached down and grabbed Tric by his hair, roughly pulling his face up to look me in the eyes. His face was screwed up with pain, and it took his eyes a second to focus. But once they did, they registered what I'd been looking for, fear. I spit in his face and bawled up my fist and punched him without looking away.

Blood streamed from his nose as I let him fall back to the ground. The train whistle came again. Louder now, louder than anything. Trick desperately grasped at my foot. Yank him blindly and throwing off my balance. I stumbled and fell backwards, catching myself with my hands, but losing precious seconds as he shakily pulled himself up to loom over me.

I heard blood pounding in my ears, and I heard the train shaking down the tracks. And the two became indistinguishable in my mixed-up mind, until all of a sudden I was watching myself move as if from a dream, feeling my arms and legs, but making no decision to move them. Check, I thought wildly. And it was this that I held onto as my feet kicked out at Trick Murphy. As my arms planted themselves on his broad chest,

as my legs dug into the ground, and my shoulders screamed with the effort of shoving him backward into the path of a thousand tons of screaming steel. Check. I thought, as I watched the train thunder by the place where Trick used to be, but I finally understood what he said to me earlier. Some folks only needed a push. Some folks didn't need that.

Some folks like me, we only needed an excuse. Because through the gaps of the train, Like a shutter speed in slow motion. I saw Jack Dandy a hundred yards away on the other side of the tracks. The devil didn't kill Trick Murphy. But I sleep easier at night, pretend any deep. Horror seems to reside most firmly in those dark hours of the night when you wake up unexpectedly from a deep sleep. But has shared by author Chris Hookah, when a woman finds herself awake for no good,

reason in the middle of the night she experiences things which belong in anyone's worst nightmares performing this tale are Nicole Doolin Erica Sanderson and Peter Lewis so remember the way you were taught the alphabet because E is for elephant that night was just like any other I came home lay from work showered and laid in bed and played with my phone like usually I started to feel my heavy eyes drop, so I set my phone down and drifted to a calm sleep. I woke in the middle of the night with a feeling of something watching me. I looked around my room from my bed and saw nothing in the dark. I felt uneasy, like a feeling of dread.

I was 19 years old, lived with my parents and baby brother, and to my embarrassment, I still suffered from nightmares. It was normal for me to have the feeling of being awoken by something not feeling right. And at first I blamed it on this. I couldn't go back to sleep, though. I also noticed that I could read my posters and I could read my bedside clock, which said 3.46 a.m. I remember hearing somewhere that you can't read in your dreams, although I have no idea how true that is. I wasn't dreaming. I was sure of it. I sat up in bed.

As I heard my own voice whisper in the dark, I felt silly. Nothing answered back except my own breathing. I just felt like something was in my room. I slid out of bed and went to check on my parents, mostly to make myself feel grounded. I wanted to make sure I wasn't crazy or that I wasn't getting an eerie feeling from an intruder in the house. I stepped downstairs and tiptoed down the hallway to my parents' room. I opened their door and it was so... quiet. No breathing or shuffling or anything coming from their dark room.

Mom? Dad? No answers, not even a frustrated sigh of being woken up. I tried again a little louder this time. Mom? Dad? Silence filled my head and ears. I began to get that prickly feeling on my skin, like something was about to happen. Maybe something would jump out or yell suddenly. Worried, I reached for the switch on their wall, and blinked and shielded my eyes from the bright light. My mother and father were laying both on their sides facing me. Both of them had their eyes wide open, more open than I had ever seen them.

The whites in them were now a dull pink and glossed over. My legs backpedaled until I hit the opposite side of the hallway from their door. I couldn't take my eyes off their dead stare. No blinking, no moving. I regained myself and slowly walked towards their bed. Were they dead? How could they be dead? They weren't dead.

Both of their mouths cracked open, and in unison they let out a breathy whisper. I realized I was sweating, and that breathy tone sounded like the air was being pushed out of their bodies. I backed up again until my shoulder. blade slammed into the hallway wall. I didn't think I just ran towards the front door of the house. I needed to get out, to get away. I didn't know what was going on. I just wanted to leave. As I ran past the TV in the living room, I heard the familiar beep, like someone had turned the TV on.

No one was in the room except me, and the remote was on the table where Dad left at last. I stopped in my tracks and stared into the slowly focusing TV. I was terrified. My heartbeat deafened my own ears. But what I saw on the TV wasn't as disturbing as what I was expecting. It was a man standing in a brightly colored suit. He had slicked hair parted down the side, and he held a few big cards in his hand.

It seemed like a kid's show. There was no music or sound. He stared right into my eyes. He was holding me there with his gaze. His big bluish-green eyes shimmered, and he quickly flashed a somewhat friendly smile. He wasn't ugly or disgusting, but there was something off about him. He was standing in front of just a plain white background, which made the oranges and yellows and reds and blues of his suit seem even brighter.

I watched as he grabbed the large cards in his hand. He turned them so I could see what was on them. He held them up next to his head, the camera zoomed in uncomfortably until you could only see his face in the cards he held. They were the kinds of cards you would have for a child. They had a picture of an animal in the letter that the animal's name starts with. The first one read, E is for elephant.

He flipped the next card. He was still smiling. F is for fox. He showed the next one. G is for giraffe. I didn't notice that his smile twitched as he was flipping. I was nauseous now. H is for hope.

I was too scared to know what the next cards may say. Y is for your. I held my breath. R is for ready. I shifted my eyes from the cards to his face and saw that his teeth were now showing in his smile. I broke from his gaze and fled to the front door. I tried every cliche that you see in horror movies to try to get the door to budge.

I shut the handle. I banged on the door. I even yelled and screamed for anyone to hear me or help me. As my hands became raw and sore from the banging, I could hear a slight sound. The sound of shuffling cards behind my head. I could feel the wind of the cards on the back of my neck, and I stood still. I didn't want to exist. Not now.

I didn't want to look. I felt like if I didn't look, he wouldn't exist. Before I knew it, I realized I had not taken a breath for some time. I felt dizzy and hazy. Tunnel vision took over my eyes. The door fogged over with darkness, and I fell into a crumpled pile on the floor at the base of the door. I awoke the next morning to bright sun coming through my window,

and the sound of dishes clinking in the kitchen. I heard my mom and dad talk. and laughing. I think my baby brother was still asleep. I could smell breakfast. Whatever that nightmare was last night, it was over now. Everything was normal and seemed bright. I went downstairs to find Mom and Dad in their robes with messy bed hair. Their eyes were normal. Mom turned to me and gave me a questionable look. Are you okay? You look scared or something? define my words. You, you, I mean, I...

But, what's going? My dad butted in. You feeling okay? Did you have one of your nightmares? I verbally processed the events of last night. I guess I did. Yeah, that's all it is. I think I just stayed up too late.

I went upstairs to my room, laughing at myself for being so gullible to my own mind. I headed to work and thought nothing more of what had happened. I came home late that evening. I was exhausted and too tired to eat. Mom and dad were in bed already and the house was silent. I laid in bed in my clothes and fell asleep almost instantly. I gasped awake to a dark, shadowy figure looming over me. The sound of shuffling cards filled the silence.

I tried to move and notice that there was a hand over my mouth, and now another one over my eyes. The hand slipped its thumb into the inside of my cheek, and I clenched my jaw tightly so it couldn't open my mouth. The other hand lifted off my eyes and did the same to the other side of my lips, and I laid there, stapled to the bed by the pressure of the hands pushing down, hooking into me. Both hands started stretching my mouth until I thought my lips would tear.

I screamed and opened my jaws to take the tension off of the paw. on my face. I shouldn't have done that. I should have just let him rip my mouth from ear to ear. One hand slipped in between my teeth and pushed hard down into my tongue and throat, and I started to gag and gasp for air. The other hand disappeared behind the figure.

I couldn't see much of anything behind the tears in the dark of my room. It stopped plunging its fingers into my throat, and I heard a familiar breathy whisk. I tried to squirm out of his hold, and the fingers just pushed harder and deeper into my throat and tongue. I thought for sure they would push out of the back of my head. I scratched and grabbed and pulled the arm attached to the hand, and it was useless. The other hand returned with something very large.

Maybe the size of a cantalope. I started forcing the object into my mouth, and I tried to stretch my jaws open in order to save my teeth from snapping off from the pressure. My teeth scraped and tore at it. The pressure made my eyes bulge and the corners of my lips tore as both hands now pushed downwards to force this thing into my mouth. I felt dizzy from not breathing and from the pain and was relieved by the feeling of passing out. I awoke with everyone normal once again.

I could hear mom and dad downstairs and the sun shined through the window again. My jaw ached slightly. I ran downstairs, but this time I was not welcomed in the same way. Mom turned to look at me and dropped the pan she was holding. She slowly fainted to the floor. My dad's mouth dropped open and his eyes were wide. I was confused.

I moved my mouth to say, what's wrong? But all that came out was bloody garble. I spat blood on the floor and looked down to see I was, covered in blood. I looked at where I had spat and noticed a tooth in the puddle. I grabbed my mouth, too scared to look in the mirror. My face felt deformed and broken. I was too scared to ask what had happened. I was too scared to know why my stomach was stretched and full. I was too scared to know why my jaw was broken or why most of my teeth were shattered. Most of all, I was too scared to know where my baby brother was.

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