The NoSleep Podcast - NoSleep Podcast S11E18

Episode Date: September 30, 2018

It's episode 18 of Season 11. On this week's show we have five tales about bodies; broken, begging, and bracing. "Joe Made a Choice"† written by Lucretia Vastea and performed by Graham Rowat & Mick Wingert & Nichole Goodnight. (Story starts around 00:02:45) "The Night Lily"† written by Olivia White and performed by Jessica McEvoy & Mike DelGaudio & Alexis Bristowe & Addison Peacock & Dan Zappulla & Kyle Akers & Mick Wingert. (Story starts around 00:24:15) "Pet Sitting"† written by Joe Sullivan and performed by Atticus Jackson & Nikolle Doolin. (Story starts around 01:04:35) "Perfect"‡ written by Lucia France and performed by David Ault & Erika Sanderson. (Story starts around 01:22:40) "Secrets and Motives"¤ written by Tristan Lince and performed by Jesse Cornett & Corinne Sanders & Alexis Bristowe & Addison Peacock & Mike DelGaudio. (Story starts around 01:43:55) Click here to learn more about the voice actors on The NoSleep Podcast   Click here for tickets to Halloween Live @ Gin Mill in Toronto   Click here to learn more about J.D. McGregor's book, "The Devil's in the Details"   Click here to learn more about Lucretia Vastea   Click here to learn more about Olivia White   Click here to learn more about Joe Sullivan   Click here to learn more about Tristan Lince   Executive Producer & Host: David Cummings Musical score composed by: Brandon Boone Audio adaptations produced by: Phil Michalski† & Jeff Clement‡ & Jesse Cornett¤ "Secrets and Motives" illustration courtesy of Jörn 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 let us into your mind at your own risk. 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 Cummings. Thanks for joining us. On the show this week, we have five tales about bodies, broken, begging, and bracing. As we slide into the Halloween month of October, I'm excited about all the great tricks and treats we have in store for you this year. Not the least of which are the live shows in Toronto. And you know, this is an updated version of the announcements for the show, because in the first version of these announcements, I mentioned the tickets were now on sale. but thanks to our devoted local fans, the tickets sold out very quickly.

You even crashed our website with your demand. So thanks to those of you who are coming to the shows. And to those of you not able to attend, we'll be streaming portions of the show and releasing video of it after the fact. So you can join in the fun from afar. And I also want to mention a new book released by Friend of the Show, J.D. McGregor. It's called The Devils in the Details, Psychological, thriller and horror collection. The book features 25 stories from J. D. McGregor,

horror author from Toronto, Canada. Hmm, all the best folks in horror seem to come from there. October is the perfect month to delve into these devilish tales. Check the show notes for a link to where you can get your copy. And so, even if you can't see us live, we have lots of great dead stories, I mean pre-recorded stories for you now. Yes, the tape is in the machine. The stories are ready, so let's press play. In our first tale, we meet a father with a young daughter. And as author Lucretia Vastia explains,

like all parents, he looks forward to the end of a long day when he can tuck his child into bed and then get some rest himself. Only this night there will be more than a little girl keeping him up. Performing this tale, our Graham Rowett, Mick Winkert, and Nicole Goodnight. So let's meet Joe and find out why Joe made a choice. All Joe Jenkins wanted was to go to bed. Work had been tough on him, and lunch, hardly edible.

Not to mention his car CD player was broken, and no radio station was playing Allison Chains on a loop like he would have liked. All Joe Jenkins asked for at that time of day was to lay down and cuddle next to sleep. Jane, right after tucking Josephine in. Professional letdowns aside, it went as fairy tale perfect as it did every night. Joe would enter his daughter's room, would chat a little about how her day went, would give her a kiss on the forehead, and wish her pleasant dreams. Those green, almond-shaped eyes were his entire world, and even if Jane would say she'd do it for him, even if his boss asked him to work overtime. Nothing in the world would stop Joe from giving his baby girl her

goodnight kiss. It was the same as every night. Joe was getting a little tired of it, but even so, he smiled tenderly at Josie and got on his knees. There's nothing for you to worry, honey. There's nothing under... And there she was. From under the bed, his frightened little girl whispered teary-eyed. All Joe Jenkins wished for, was for a quiet, peaceful, good night's sleep. He knew that website well. The website where all the world's shortest horror stories were posted. Being the bored security guard he was,

he would always indulge in those stories during work. What else was he to do? Except scanning IDs and taking good looks at the 20 or so individuals going in and out of the office building during his 10-hour shift. Reading short horror stories was a good way to pass the top. and, funny enough, this scenario was exactly one of them. Thing is, the author of that particular story never wrote what was to happen after the parent gets up. Joe Jenkins felt all the liquid in his body boil.

He had no choice, however. He was a skeptic to the bone, but even skeptics get ideas from fictive scenarios. Joe felt like he was risking being eaten alive as he lifted his upper body to look on the bed again. All of his 250 pounds of muscles shook in the process. But no, no monster in sight. Just his beautiful little Josie waiting for him to tell her that everything's fine, that nobody's there. Joe was still shaking. What the hell was going on? Was his mind playing tricks on him? He ducked down and looked under the bed anew. Can I come out now, Daddy? It's cold down here. His heart was breaking, seeing her that way.

But what was he to do? When's your birthday? The girls answered simultaneously. 18th of May? Joe cursed under his breath. He wanted nothing more but to open his eyes and realize it's all just a terrible, awful dream. But he knew it wasn't. He could remember everything that happened prior that day,

and the picture before him was not milky at the edges as dreams. dreams usually are. This was real, and it was a nightmare. Come out of there, baby. The baby part slipped out involuntarily. How was he able to tell which one was his real baby? They were absolutely identical. Josie let out a short yelp when she saw another Josie rise from underneath her bed. It's all right, honey. Daddy, daddy's here. There's no need for you to be scared. Sit up, please. She did as she was told, never taking her gaze off her doppelganger.

Josie from under the bed hid behind her father, looking at the Josie on the bed, almost crying. It's all right, it's okay. This is just a big misunderstanding. His mind was reeling. Go take a seat next to her, please. Both Josie's began to protest as tears rolled down their faces. Neither of them wanted to approach the other. Quiet! Go sit over there, I need to think.

The girls went silent, even though quiet sobs would escape from between their lips, as the distance between them got smaller. The Josie on the bed quivered against the headboard as if her life depended on it. The other Josie approached the bed very warily and sat down so far from the other, she would have fallen off the bed if her foot wouldn't have been supporting her from the floor. Both girls were staring daggers into the other, the amount of fear in their eyes undeniable and identically genuine. Joe Jenkins looked at the one on the right and at the one on the left. He got closer and looked at the one on the left and then at the one on the right.

He was a security guard for Pete's sake. Weird noises coming from the building when everybody else was gone never scared him. But this, this was on a complete. completely different level. There was no denying it. One of them was the real, Josephine, whilst the other one was an otherworldly imposter. Which was which, however, he couldn't tell, and it was shattering him into millions of pieces. What kind of father couldn't tell his beloved child from a fake? Not him. He'll be able to tell which was which in no time. Josie? Both Josie's looked at him expectantly.

One of you is telling the truth. The other is lying. Joe Jenkins saw this in a cartoon once. He thought the trick was brilliant, even though he never would have thought he'd need it in real life. If you were the other, which one would you say is the real Josie? The two girls exchanged a quick glance,

then looked at their father dead determined to prove to him that the other one is the liar. She would say that she is, is the real Josie. So she died, she would say she's the real Josie. Joe bit the inside of his cheek.

Of course it didn't work. And it was stupid of him to believe that it would. Please scooge closer to each other. The hurricane of cried out nose would have been enough to wake Jane up. But the wife was the last thing on Joe's mind. Girls, I'm

losing my nerve here. Either you get closer to each other or I'm leaving the room and turning the lights off on my way out. The two girls went silent and scoched next to each other so fast, the bed sheet almost caught fire. Joe crouched in front of them. Everything about the two girls was identical. Even the thin streak of blonde hair in the long, light brown mane.

Even the two small yellow dots in their left eyes. Please show me your knees. Both girls lifted their nighties. Good Lord, it was there on both of them. A deep purple spot in the shape of a whale on their right knees. It was from last week when Josie practiced riding her new bike without the helping wheels and went straight into the mailbox. I need to see your left shoulders.

The girls complied, and there it was again. Two identical scars from the vaccination right after birth. Open your mouths and stick out your tongues. And so they did. and funny enough, Joe was deeply disappointed to see no pool of never-ending darkness in either cavity. The insides of their mouths were perfectly identical. Tongue, throat, straight milk teeth. Jesus, even the left canines were slightly bent in the same direction.

He grabbed his daughter on the left and glued his ear to her chest, a scared little heart, beating rapidly. He grabbed the one on the right and repeated the process. A little heart beating just as fast and just as scared as the other one. Joe was desperate and frustrated and so scared. He actually debated with himself if he should ask Jane if she hid the existence of Josie's twin from him or something. It was crazy, but so was the picture before him. That's it, I'm getting your mother.

And Jetercy got up and took two steps towards the door. I can prove I'm the real Joe's. Daddy? His daughter on the right was on her feet, shivering. The one on the left seemed less scared and more curious. Joe looked her straight in the eyes. How? Last week I asked you to keep a secret for me, a secret only you and me know.

Josie on the left went gougly-eyed. It was true. Josie told Joe a week before that she will never go to college, ever. She told them that when she grows up, she'll be perfect. perfectly happy with working at the 7-Eleven at the end of their street and that, now that he knows this, he can stop fighting with Mommy about money. What Josie didn't know is that Joe told this secret to his wife. They both cried and hugged each other and apologized for always arguing about money.

Best sex he ever had. And just as he was about to grab his daughter on the right and drag her away from the abomination on the left, left Josie blurted out the entirety of the secret. Josie on the right had in mind. Great. Back to square one. Don't trust her, Daddy. I'm the real Josie.

This better be good. Joe felt like a boss who has to hear excuses from low-ranked employees. When I was four, I got really sick after you let me eat a whole carton of ice cream. You threw the box away before Mom got home and told her you didn't know what happened. Joe froze. He had no idea that she still remembered that. She was half her current age And out of it for the most part of two days

That's nothing The other Josie took another step forward to prove a point How about the time when we went to the park And you started chatting to a friend And the other man almost took me away Joe's jaw almost fell to the ground How the hell could she remember that She could barely walk when that happened

Both Josies were on the verge of crying out of despair That one doesn't matter. You once carried me on one arm and talked on the phone with the other. I saw an orange butterfly, went to grab it, and you dropped me on the kitchen floor. Joe clasped his hands over his ears. How in the world could she have remembered that? She was a baby, not even five months old. It was the very first time Jane went out and let Joe take care of baby Josephine alone.

He was on the phone with Jane, telling her how well the little one was behaving. He'd even forgotten that the butterfly was orange, but he remembered it now. Clear his day. It was bright and pretty, and the baby squealed in delight as she reached out to grab it. Yeah, honey, everything's fine. Oh! The baby fell head first on the cold tiles from a five-foot height. How was that?

Jane's mechanical voice was nothing compared to his beating heart. The world was suddenly so loud and yet so still, as he looked into the blank, empty eyes of his baby laying on the kitchen floor. It felt like looking into plasticized cardboard, shiny and dead. But then, she blinked once, then twice, then opened her mouth and wailed louder than a police siren. It was the first and last time he was happy to hear her cry. Stop! No more! I don't want to hear more, all right? He was breathing heavily. The girl's exchanged looks again.

They weren't afraid of each other anymore. It was worse. They were angry at each other. The look on their tiny faces said murder, and it was terrifying to Joe, who was willing to throw in the towel. It's okay, loves, I believe you. You don't have to fight, okay?

You're both daddy's girls. You're both, my darling little Josie, and we'll be a happy family. I'll talk to your mother. No. The Josie on the left trampled her foot on the floor. Something she always did, when she didn't agree with her parents on something.

Josie on the right spoke from between quivering lips. That always happened when she was upset. She had it from her mother. Both of them were approaching him with tight fists and sunken eyebrows. How about that time you hit the homeless old man and kept driving like nothing ever happened? Joe clasped his hands over his ears again and started weeping. The other Josie pushed the one that just spoke to the side with her shoulder.

How about the time when you pushed Stephanie down the stairs and made her lose my older brother? Please stop! Joe fell to his knees. Both occurrences happened before Josie was even born. He hit the homeless man on the way to the hospital. Jane was in labor with his princess. He had no other choice. Stephanie, though, he was desperate.

He'd been married to Jane for a few months, and she was getting boring and dry, and Joe wasn't used to the married life, And for God's sake, he slipped. Happens to every man. It wasn't out of love. It wasn't even out of need. It was just for the exhilaration of change, be it even for five minutes.

It wasn't his fault that the dumb bitch lied about taking birth control pills anyway. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Josie, you are not allowed to tell your mother that. Something sparkled in both Josie's eyes. They threw each other a cautious glance and then looked at Daddy in slow motion. If you don't choose me, I'll tell Mommy about Stephanie.

Josie's room seemed to darken and close in on Joe in a promise of eternal suffocation. Joe's jaw hung from the rest of his face, his eyes wide in shock. The other Josie spoke. If you don't choose me, I'll tell Mommy, Grandma, Grandpa, and all your office colleagues about spicy studies. The room was choking, Joe, no doubt about it. He couldn't breathe. How in the world could Josie know about spicy studies? That was supposed to be an even better sealed secret than him killing his unborn child

and crippling his former mistress for life. Back in college, Joe's brilliant idea for easy money had been a porn site. As its name suggested, the protagonists had all been kids in his year or younger, needing spiked drinks in order to participate, be it with or against their will. Jane thought Joe finished college with flying colors, but Joe got expelled after three semesters for ruining 43 young and promising lives, that number not including the actor's families.

Joe's head was in his hands. He was struggling to breathe. He wanted nothing more than to turn deaf. To stop hearing all the dreadful truths his doubled little girl spilled out on him like destructive fires of reckoning. He wanted her to stop. Involuntary images of him choosing one of them and choking the other to death

popped into his head and he knew he knew that if he wanted to go through with it, he'd have to hurry. His little Josephine's already opened Pandora's box. Hell, they did more than that. They were swimming in it and throwing its contents all over the place. But Joe's Pandora's box had a fake bottom. And if Joe would go through with the plan, he'll have to hurry before one of them found it and...

If you don't choose me, I'll tell everybody that it wasn't sudden, unexpected infant death when baby auntie died. They found the fake bottom. It was over. Joe's biggest, darkest secret was not only one he kept from the world, but one he kept from himself. He looked up at the girls, his face wet with salty eye water, feeling infinitely inferior to the two all-knowing eight-year-olds,

Joe wasn't a 39-year-old anymore. He was a five-year-old boy watching the slow rise and fall of his sleeping baby sister's chest, wondering what would happen if he'd just put his teddy bear on her face for a couple of seconds. His mother called him, and the seconds turned to minutes. He didn't check the rise and fall of her chest again when he went back for the teddy, so when the doctor diagnosed her passing with sudden unexpected infant death, Who was he to argue?

Little Joe. Pathetic, little Joe. Pathetic little murderous Joe looked up at the two girls and was back to his guilty, bloody-handed, five-year-old self again. Julie? Is that you? Not one, but both Josie's answered him by smiling and holding hands. Joe was less than human by now.

Girls, Julie, Josie, I don't understand what you want from me. Their voices were even and unrelenting. Choose. The hope of his future and the dread of his past were mirroring each other before him, beckoning him to make a decision. But how could he? Ignorance only postpones doom and regret is not enough to be forgiven. He couldn't choose.

He never could. So Joe did the only thing he could do. He got up, turned around, and entered his nuptial bedroom. Jane was sleeping soundly, oblivious to the world's colliding in her daughter's bedroom. Joe didn't even shoot her a final glance. He went straight for his tide roar and simply picked one. It wasn't even his favorite, but it didn't matter. The girls looked in his direction and followed him with their eyes as he went for the bathroom,

always holding hands, never letting go of each other. Joe tied the tie neatly around his neck and nodded the other end around his toothbrush. He didn't know if it would hold, but he was dying to try, literally. Joe grabbed Josie's plastic ladder for brushing teeth, placed it next to the open door, threw his tie on the other side, close the door, and yanked the ladder from under him. The toothbrush held. Funnily enough, it held just enough for Joe to let out his dying breath. It snapped not even ten seconds afterwards,

letting Joe's lifeless body fall on the bathroom tiles, sounding like a heavy fish against a wooden table. The girls knew he was gone even before the toothbrush gave in, Still holding hands, they returned to Josie's bedroom and hid under the bed, where they both belonged. Neither of them was the real Josie. The real Josie was sleeping in her parents' bed, hidden in the covers and her mother's arms, the place she always turned to when the monsters under her own bed were upsetting her. But that wasn't Joe's concern anymore.

Joe already made his choice. We all know college kids can get up. to hijinks and pranks to relieve the stress of their studies. But in this tale from author Olivia White, we find a group of friends struggling to explain a series of bizarre events and why one of them is trying to get the story straight for the police. Performing this tale are Jessica McAvoy, Mike Delgado, Alexis Bristow, Addison Peacock, Dan Zapula,

Kyle Acres, and Mick Wingert. The tale has begun, So it's time to learn about the night Lily. Lily, thanks for coming down this late at night. That's okay, Detective Chambers. That's fine. Sorry to get right down to it, but, well, time is of the essence. Is it?

Isn't it? Last time we spoke, you were worried he might kill again. Or she. Hmm? He or she. Anyway, I was, but new information has come to like. We've got all the time in the world. You know, on the phone you told me you had some new information. Does this relate to that?

Oh, yes. Not just new information, but I know who killed them. I know who it was. Who? Lily, this is really important. If this is a pranker... You know me, detective. Do you think I'm the kind of girl who'd concoct a prank about the person who killed her friends? No, no. Sorry, you're not. That was stupid of me to ask. So, uh, I guess the first of the first person, first question is, who is it? Do you trust me, detective? I mean, it's not my job to trust anyone, but I trust you to the extent that I can, yes. In that case, will you humor me? I will tell you who it is. I will. But I need to start from the beginning. I need to tell you everything. It might take a while. That's a big ask, Lily. The killer's out there. I told you. They won't kill again.

They? Singular. I don't want to give the twist away. Not yet. This isn't... Okay. Okay, Lily. Let's start from the top.

I'm going to have to record this interview, okay? We're going to have to do this formally. Fine by me, Detective Chambers. I want a record of this. This is Detective Rob Chambers interviewing Miss Lily Amber. The date is October 26, 2018. Shouldn't there be another officer present? Doesn't matter?

You're not a suspect. Do you want another officer present? No, it's fine. They're watching, though, aren't they? Through there? The two-way mirror? I don't think so. I don't think anyone's in there right now.

Okay. So, as you know, it started exactly two weeks ago. Friday, October 12th. Why the hell are we going along with this? It's Andrew, for Christ's sake. Dia was acting as antsy as I felt. Breaking into the college gymnasium after hours wasn't exactly one of our group's smarter ideas. It didn't help that neither Dia nor I knew entirely why we were doing it either.

Girls, girls, girls. Less fretting, more breaking and entering, okay? Maggie Sullivan wrapped one arm over each of our shoulders and pulled us together. Of course, Maggie was why we were doing this. And as usual, Maggie was a good enough reason for Dia and I. She was the glue that held us together. The high school queen B turned college it girl. And when she asked us to jump, both of us were all too eager to reply with how high. That wasn't to say we were total pushovers, though.

SAS came with part of the package. I think we've kind of already done the breaking and entering part, Mags. Yeah, in case you haven't noticed, we've already entered. And flirting with the security guard to leave the back door unlocked wasn't exactly breaking. Details, details. Maggie released us both and skipped ahead, peering around the corner into the next dimly lit hallway. Our route into the building had put us on the other side from the gym, but we were almost there now. Not that there was any real tension or risk.

Maggie had simply batted her eyelashes at the gym. the night guard, a nervous guy in his 20s called Rodney, and he'd been persuaded to turn a blind eye. Of course, none of this would matter if Steve Borden, head of campus security, happened to do a surprise inspection of the sports suite or caught sight of movement through the windows, but Rodney had assured us he wouldn't. Where are Chesney and Guy? Maggie looked back at us and gestured us forward, then disappeared around the corner. I don't see them.

Dia and I hurried to catch up. Who? Aw, screw you, Chesney. And you, Maggie. Chesney had grabbed me from behind, covering my eyes with his fingers. Clearly, he'd been hiding, waiting to spring out at us. And Maggie had enabled him as usual. His hands were clammy against my face,

and I had the sudden, inexplicable urge to elbow him, hard in the ribs. Chesney found any excuse he could to touch me. It was a running joke with the rest of us, the hapless unrequited love he'd had for me since we'd both arrived at college. Of course, he'd never actually told me how he felt, so I was able to keep up an air of obliviousness. Regardless, I dreaded the day when Chesney would eventually summon the balls to confess his feelings to me. For now, though, I wriggled out of Chesney's grip, his hands falling away from my face. Guy stood off to one side, looking sheepish. Hey, Lily.

Hey, Guy. Babe! Dia practically threw herself into his arms. Guy kissed the top of her head, but I could see his eyes flashing to mine in the half-light. I quickly looked away. So what the hell has Andrew got in store for us this time? God knows. But, you know, when that dear boyfriend of mine says, Meet me in the gym at midnight, I've got something killer to show you,

then I'm kind of powerless to resist. It's not really like Andrew, is it? Doing anything that isn't football, drinking, or begging me for blow jobs? Truth. And he seemed so excited. Mr. Jock Nileism enthusiastic about something? This I gotta see. Hey, well, you said it. We'd reached the double doors to the gym.

Beside us, a vending machine hummed softly, the branded facade spilling out a pulsing red light. Chesney fumbled in his pocket and produced a handful of change. Oh, thirsty as heck. He handed me a Coke and cracked the other for himself. When it became clear to the others that I was to be the only recipient of Chesney's generosity, Maggie sighed. Well, let's go in then, shall we?

See what Andrews got in store for us. Taking the lead, as usual, Maggie reached out and pushed open the door to the gymnasium. Had anyone been watching us, they would have seen five people simultaneously freeze. It must have looked comical, I think. We strode in without a care in the world, and within seconds, we'd all stopped short. open-mouthed and staring. The gymnasium was dark, save for a single column of light pointing down to the spot where one of the basketball hoops usually was. The courtside floodlights had been positioned to highlight this one location, and it was immediately clear why.

A figure stood in the spotlight. No, not stood exactly. He was held suspended there. At first it looked like he was crucified. His arms were stretched out, legs together angling down. But as we slowly walked forwards, staring in horror, it became clear that he wasn't nailed there. He was tied, hung up like a scarecrow.

His head lulled down like he was studying his toes. But there was no mistaking those rippled abs and spiky frosted blonde hair. Andrew? Maggie hurried forward, then stopped outside the cone of light as if it was a force field. The rest of us joined her, staring up at Andrew. He was dead. Or at least he was supposed to look that way. That much was obvious.

His skin, once a glorious brawn, was pallid and almost blue, like he'd been on ice for some time. He was topless and wearing the ripped jeans that Maggie was forever nagging him to replace. His letterman jacket, the one he'd been so proud of, was tied around his waist. He was barefoot. None of this was what caught everyone's eye, though. Not really. It was impossible to miss what the focus was supposed to.

to be. Something was woven into his chest. Long strands of straw fed into his skin at all angles so they came together over his heart in the shape of a circle. The strands extended up over his shoulder, down across his belly, banishing under the waistband of his pants. They stretched along his left arm and criss-crossed the right side of his chest. There was no blood, at least none that we could see, not a drop. The merging of straw and Andrew's flesh was mesmeric. In the bright white floodlights, it was hard to see where his body ended and the straw began. In amongst the straw, twigs and leaves stuck out at odd angles, like they'd sprouted from his skin. It looked like a nest. It looked like a bird's nest had been constructed into

his body. It was remarkable in a grotesque way. My eyes traveled along his left arm. Straw and sticks rose in and out of him like wooden veins, curling and weaving over and through his muscles. Someone had spent a lot of time achieving the effect. It looked like it was part of him, not, as it came out later, inserted and sewed into his body to achieve the look. Andrew? What the fuck?

Maggie's question sounded half-hearted, like she wanted to hold on to the possibility that Andrew himself had done this, that this was what he wanted to show us, but knew full well that wasn't the case. Jesus Christ, is he dead? No, man. No, fuck no.

No way. I could feel an electricity in the air, like we were moments away from descending into screaming panic, just hanging on the cusp of a precipice. I wondered who'd be the one to give us. Just the nudge that sent us tumbling into the abyss. Nobody touch anything. Back away slowly.

Ignoring me, Maggie lunged forward. I caught her around the waist, pulling her against me. Babe, no. What the fuck? No. Is this part of the... The cops. I'm just...

What? We all froze, heads snapping towards the direction of the sound. Andrew, his chest was beginning to rise and fall. I felt Maggie brace herself against me, clearly waiting for the gotcha moment, the twist. Andrew, man, come on, even by my standards, this isn't funny. Chesney was moving forward, into the light. All of a sudden, a flurry of movement, a screech,

The tearing of flesh and ripping of straw. Something burst forth from Andrew's chest, sending Chesney reeling backwards, crowing an alarm, his hands waving in front of his face to fend off the would-be assailant. We all watched in abject horror. The scene felt like it was moving in slow motion. From Andrew's rib cage, something was emerging. In the spotlight, it was pale, pink.

And for a moment, it looked as if the creature was fleshy. But then it struggled free and beat its wings. And it was clear to all that it was a white dove, nested in Andrew's chest, forcing itself free. The bird spun and flapped in the air, frantically circling in front of us like it was disoriented. It shook flecks of straw and blood free from its wings as it ruffled its feathers, all the while cawing miserably.

It wheeled towards Chesney, who beat at it with his hands, letting out a terrified shriek. Dio was screaming, too, and a guy pulled her against him, out of the path of the uncaged bird. The dove flew at me then. I stood stock still, frozen to the spot, unable even to lift my arms to defend my face. For a moment, I was sure it was going to attack, going to sink its claws into my cheeks, back at my eyes. Then at the last minute it arced away, beating a lopsided, graceless path into the rafters of the gym. I heard its wings beating against the corrugated iron roof, and then, like a prisoner with a taste of freedom,

it headed towards an open window, high, high up on the wall, and darted through. For a split second, I saw it silhouetted against the full moon, its tattered and bloody wings like a cloak. And then it was gone, vanished into the nights where you came in. Well, not quite. Some time must have passed between the discovery of Andrew's body and the cops showing up. Well, yeah.

We called you guys. Then we called Steve Borden. He got there first and made a stand along the wall, a foot apart, in total silence. Borden, he's ex-military. It shows. I don't use this word lightly, but Borden's a sick cunt. Why do you say that? Are you sure nobody's in there?

Behind the mirror? Nobody's there, Lillie. It's just us. Why would you say Borden's a... Um, not a nice guy? He sometimes stands under the stairs leading up to the art suite. You know the ones? Right.

And he looks up. When it's busy, he looks up. And you know those outdoor stairs. They have gaps. You can look right up a girl's skirt from there. Jesus, did nobody complain to the college about this? Oh, sure. Nothing was ever done.

This one time, Maggie wore a skirt and got the words, Fuck you, Steve, printed on her panties. Maggie's was... Oh, God. Oh, Maggie, I'm sorry. Sorry? You'll understand. So I know what happened next.

The investigation, the interviews, et cetera, et cetera. I know how fucking... fucking clueless we were. No trace evidence. Absolutely no clues as to why someone would have killed Andrew, especially not like that. Did you guys discuss potential culprits? You must have, right? A bit. Everyone was so freaked out. Things like this just don't happen here. Maggie, she was devastated. Wouldn't speak to anyone. Locked herself away at home. Hey, detective? Yes, Lily?

Why didn't they close the school? I, uh, well, we advised him not to. Thought it'd create an undue panic. Weren't we all in danger, though? You had no idea who the killer was. They could have struck again at any time. Well, it seemed unlikely. We, uh...

Okay, so a theory was floated about that Andrew had pissed off some people. He used to deal drugs in high school. Did you know that? Andrew? Mr. Golden Boy, chalk? Really? Yeah, nothing serious, just a bit of pot to other kids, but it was the best we had. Tenuous connections, traced his supplier to the cartels, worked on the theory that Andrew had been killed as a warning.

For what, we had no idea, but it made no less sense than anything else. I guess you dropped that theory pretty quickly then, after... After Maggie, yeah. So, that's where it picks up. Exactly a week later On the night that Maggie The night Maggie Ascend it

This is bringing back bad memories Hmm A week ago Exactly a week We were breaking into the gym to meet Andrew Then, well You know Now we're heading to meet Maggie

Oh God, grim Didn't think of that Did we ever find out what it actually was that Andrew wanted to show us? Guessing it wasn't his mutilated corpse. Jesus, Chess? No, I have no idea. The cops were looking into it,

but if they worked it out, they haven't told me. Maybe Maggie knows. Maybe that's why she wanted to meet us. Have any of you guys spoken to her much this week? She hasn't been answering my texts. Nope. Nah, but then I never do, really.

I've talked with her a few times. She's holding up surprisingly well, you know, Considering. I've been getting interviewed by the cops all week, though. Christ. Is she a suspect? Doubt it.

No more than the rest of us are. Not gonna lie, they were coming down pretty hard on me. You know, as Andrew's bestie, but even suggested maybe I was bitter he'd gotten squad captain ahead of me. Like I'd kill a guy over football? Jesus. Hey, ma'am, we've all seen you on the field. You're like animals out there.

Shut the fuck up, Chesney. I was relieved when Maggie had one to do. to meet us in a public place. The food court of the mall wasn't likely to make anyone jumpy. As we strolled through the evening crowd, I caught sight of her sitting alone at a table outside, coffee to go, nursing an iced latte. Big, dark sunglasses covered her eyes.

And in that moment, she looked to me like a film star trying to hide her identity, rather than the grieving girlfriend she was. Dia began to rush forward. Her usual eager greeting a muscle memory, then caught herself and fell back into step beside me. We walked sedately over to where our friends sat. Hey, everyone. Thanks for coming. I was surprised to hear the calm in Maggie's voice.

I'd expected her to be tearful, broken. We all crowded around the too small table. Guy stayed standing, fishing into his pocket for his wallet. it. Anyone want anything? I reached for my purse. I'd kill for a pumpkin spice. If anyone caught my thoughtless wording, they didn't say. Guy waved his hand, dismissing the $10 bill I held out to him.

It's on me today. I'm good, hon. Uh, babe, can you grab me a double espresso? I'll come with you, give you a hand. Guy gave me a look, and I bit back a chuckle. Chesney always did this. If anyone else was paying for me, then Ches dived in to do so himself. It was getting such that I knew I'd have to temper it soon, head off any accusations I was leading him on at the pass.

But the combination of his persistence and recent events had pushed it low down on my list of priorities. I watched them leave, my eyes lingering slightly too long. on guys toned back muscles, his ass. When I turned back to the table, Maggie was peering at me over the tops of her sunglasses, eyeing me strangely, knowingly. I shook my head almost imperceptibly, glancing at Dia. Not now, Maggie. Not here. Have you been, babe? You holding up, okay? Dia had reached out and was squeezing Maggie's hand across the table. Maggie removed her sunglasses. Her eyes were bright, focused.

She had the look she always got when she was focused on something. Gonna wait for the guys to get back, but I think I know who did it. I think I know who killed Andrew. Dia and I knew better than to push her on it. Even with serious, grim topics like this, Maggie valued theatrics. She wanted her full audience, and trying to persuade her to talk with anything less would be a lesson in futility. And so, with no possible way to follow that revelation up, we lapsed into silence. When the boys returned a few minutes later, Guy shot me a questioning

glance over Dia's head. I gave a little shrug. Chesney was clutching a tray containing his drink and mine, as well as a cinnamon roll on a plate. I hoped it wasn't for me, or worse. He intended me to share it with him. He plonked the tray down onto the table, his cream-laden coffee slopping out of his mug and spilling along the base of my Frappuccino. I reached over to Guy's tray,

taking care not to knock Dia's cup of espresso and snatched up a few of the napkins he'd brought. Good going, Chess. Chesney grinned, apologetically as he took a seat. Hey, at least I didn't get any on the cake. Half of it's yours if you want, Lily. I ignored him.

Guy sat down beside Dia. Maggie has something to tell us, you guys. She thinks she knows who did it. Guy and Chesney instantly stared at her, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Well, thanks for stealing my thunder, honey. Sorry, sorry, I just... Maggie waved away, Dia's apology.

I've been thinking a lot, obviously. And I think I know who's responsible, who did this to Andrew. Christ, woman, don't keep us in suspense. Fine. It was Borden. Steve Borden. What? The creepy security guy.

Holy shit. What makes you say that, Max? Why Borden? Okay, so you guys don't know about this, but last semester, Andrew and I kind of blackmailed Borden. Holy shit. What? Have you told the cops this? No, I kind of... I kind of forgot all about it.

Just listen, okay? Maggie had her captive audience, just like she always wanted. So, I kind of discovered a peephole into the girl's locker room. One day after practice, when the school was basically empty, Andrew and I hooked up in there. We were kind of going at it, and he slammed me up against the lockers, one of the doors popped open. Dia, Lily, you know the one with the busted lock? I did know it.

There was a hole where the lock should be, but you could never open it. There was this whole urban legend behind it about how it belonged to a girl who died there in the 70s and her belongings were still in there. Bullshit, of course. So it popped open and there's kind of like this mirror in there, okay? Covering almost the whole back wall of the locker.

And I'm thinking like, okay, none of the other lockers have mirrors in them. That's weird. So we work out that the locker backs onto the wall adjacent to that supply closet, yeah? I know that closet well because Andrew and I had fucked in there on a few occasions too. So, well, you know how I am with spatial memory. I realize the mirror in the locker would be in the exact same place as the mirror over the sink in the supply closet. So we get dressed and go in there and take that mirror off the wall. wall, and holy shit. The mirror on the other side is a two-way mirror and you can see straight

through into the girl's locker room. And with the door shut, that hole where the lock should be looks straight into the room. If one were to be peeping inside, you'd kind of see fucking everything. I shivered. I felt violated. From the look on Dia's face, she felt the same. Guy looked angry. Chesney looked regretful. A window into the girl's locker room and I never knew about it? I shot him a withering look, and not the kind I usually give him, where he knew his transgressions would be forgiven.

Chesney shrank back in his seat. Sorry, poor taste. So of course, who else was going to have set that creepy-ass shit up than Pervo Steve? But we wanted to catch him. So I flipped the mirror around. set my old digital camera up to be triggered by motion, and close the door up. Sure enough, the next day, the camera captures a snap of Stevo peering into the mirror, now reflecting his ugly-ass mug back at him, scratching his head in confusion.

And, well, I kind of wanted to go to the principal, or the cops, of course I did. But Andrew got it into his thick skull we should blackmail this dude. I think he felt sorry for him, honestly. Didn't want to see a vet have his life ruined over it. Kind of pissed me off, really. It was violating. No shit. But it is what it is, and we left Stevie Boy an anonymous note on the back of a printout of the photo,

telling him to fix the goddamn hole and never spy on us girls again, and that we'd be in touch sometime in the future with our next set of demands. Which were... Oh, nothing. To my knowledge, anyway, it's possible, and... Andrew asked for something without letting me know, which is kind of where my theory comes from. I think Andrew pushed it in some way, and Steve found out it was him and offered him to protect himself. Silence for a whole minute.

That's, I mean, it's possible. But that whole setup? That was some serial killer shit. The bird in his chest? What does that mean? Maggie shrugged. I don't know. Maybe, like, something hidden inside of him, like the locker? Or maybe it was so over the top to throw the cops off the scent.

Or maybe Stevie's got some sick murder fantasies and this was a good excuse to act one out. I don't know. I could tell the rest of the group were as skeptical as I felt. It is the most plausible theory we have. Dia downed her espresso in one gulp and hit the cup against the deep. table like it was a tequila slammer. You gotta tell the cops. Her voice was too loud.

I winced. Well, dude, I know that. I just wanted to... I guess I kind of wanted to run it past you guys to check I don't sound bad shit insane. Or to, like, help me come up with a way of presenting it that won't implicate me in blackmail? They won't care. All you did was ask him to stop committing a crime. Yeah, but what if Andrew did more?

What if he, like, demanded a whole bunch of money and the cops think I know about that? You do still have the photo your camera took, right? Maggie looked nervous, unable to meet guy's eyes. I, uh, kind of let Andrew talk me into giving him the SD card. Said he'd keep it somewhere safe. And I don't know where he put it. I'm starting to see why you're having suspicions. I think I...

Dia stood up from the table We all looked at her an alarm She was swaying Reaching out to steady herself I'm not And with that Dia collapsed to the ground Unconscious

We followed the ambulance to the hospital I was driving Guy in the passenger seat Chesney and Maggie in the back At the hospital we rushed inside crowding into the waiting room. Eventually, a stern-looking nurse came along and told us we could go in to see Dia, as long as we kept the noise to a minimum.

Dia was groggy, but fine. They had no idea why she'd suddenly passed out. They were doing tests, waiting on her blood work to come back. By now it was past ten in the evening. Visiting hours were over. The hospital lights were dimmed. The warded silence, save for the occasional squeaking footsteps of the nurses and the beep and hum of machines. Chesney departed as soon as he could, leaving myself, Maggie, and Guy with Dia.

Dia was tearful, drifting in and out of sleep. She kept apologizing, telling us that the stress of the past week had gotten to her. I kept stealing glances at Guy, who avoided my eyes. Eventually, I had to go to the bathroom. When I came out, he was standing there. I glanced up and down the corridor, checking that Maggie wasn't around. Or worse, Dia. Hey, I ran my fingers over a guy's chest.

He pushed my hand away. I recoiled. It was as bad as if he'd slapped me. Lily, stop. Stop this. I can't do this. Not right now. The looks, the gestures, the unspoken shit from you. I can't do this. We can't do this. You were the one who said it wouldn't happen again. Couldn't happen again. I will break up with her for you. I told you this. And what did you say? I wouldn't look at him. Tell me what you said, Lily. I said no.

So why do you keep looking at me like you want me? Because I do want you. Jesus, guy, I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm fucked up. I'm sorry. I'll stop. I... Hey, hey, it's okay.

He pulled me against him, wrapping his arms around me. And it was like it had been those times before. Those few times he and I had hooked up behind Dia's back. Each time promising it'd be the... the last. I leaned upwards. Guy's face blurred through my tears. I kissed him, soft and passionately, on the lips. He kissed me back for a moment. Then he let go, took a step backwards, looked at me with a wounded expression. I need some air. Guy, guy, guy. But he'd all already disappeared off around the corner. I walked down the hospital corridor in a daze.

I don't know how much time passed. Twenty minutes, maybe. 30? 40? I was alerted to the sound of someone screaming, footsteps running. Dia's room. Dia. My own footsteps joined the cacophony of thumping feet. Two nurses block the door to Dia's room, and I pushed past them. I felt one of them grabbed my arm and I shook him off. Dia was sitting up on her bed. Her legs pulled up so her knees were under her chin. She was staring at the window, pointing one trembling finger towards the glass. She was still screaming. Maggie was outside the window, hanging there, swaying in the breeze. Her arms were outstretched. Tattered white rags flapped like wings along her body.

I was reminded of the dove that had burst forth from Andrew's chest and of an angel. Maggie had become... His own screaming voice joined Diaz. ...outside the window. Outside the fourth floor window. She was hanging. Steve Borden has an alibi for both killings. Why didn't you tell us about the mirror?

in the locker before. That doesn't matter anyway. Surely you see where I'm going with all this, detective. I'm sorry, Lily. I'm not sure that I do. Isn't it obvious, detective? Aren't you supposed to be some kind of prodigy? Uh, not really.

And please, humor me. What's obvious? The killer. The motive. The gaps in my story. The damaged girl with a fucked up head. I don't follow. It was me.

Detective. What was you? Sorry, Lily. It was me. I killed them both, Andrew and Maggie. Wait, what?

You think you're so smart, detective. Think you've got it all figured out. Look, I'm sorry, Lily. I don't follow you. Are you really telling me that you are responsible for the murders of Andrew Harris and Maggie Sullivan?

Because that... I bet someone's looking in now, aren't they? I bet someone's looking in now, aren't they? I bet someone's in the next room, peering through that two-way mirror now, aren't they? I don't know. I don't know, Lily. Look, this is very serious. You're telling me that you are responsible for these crimes.

What was your motive? How did you... Jesus Christ, Phillips? You heard a knocking? This is not a good... Sorry, sir, but you really got to see this. There's been another murder. The body's, uh...

It's, uh, in the parking lot, sir. What the fuck? Lily, you stay right there. You stay put. I'm locking the door. I'll be back. Watching. I didn't believe you, but did what you said.

I think you said. I kept him here till midnight. I don't understand why you wanted this. He doesn't believe my bullshit confession. But I did it. I did it anyway. You didn't say he had to believe me. Just please.

Please, please don't hurt us. You promised. Please. Detective Chambers, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean... I'm sorry, I thought... Wait, why are you here? How did you even get in here? Fuck a...

Fuck I... So, uh, Lily, we had a... Holy fuck! Holy fuck! Someone called the paramedics! Somebody get me the paramedics. Now! The Knight Lily is part one of a three-part series titled Curse of the Gilded Echo.

Join us for part two on the next episode and the finale the following week. Only on the No Sleep Podcast. We've run out of tape. It's time to press eject and end the show. We thank you for letting us perform for you. If you would like to find out how you can hear the full-length versions of our audio program, please visit the no-sleep podcast.com to learn about our season past program, over 60 hours of content for only 1999.

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