The NoSleep Podcast - NoSleep Podcast S12E07

Episode Date: January 27, 2019

It's episode 07 of Season 12. On this week's show we have tales about the dark holes through which we descend into nightmares. "Try to Remember"‡ written by Luke Hoehn and performed by Sarah Thomas & Jeff Clement. (Story starts around 00:02:30) "Fall"† written by C.K. Walker and performed by Peter Lewis & C.K. Walker & Erika Sanderson. (Story starts around 00:35:00) "I Saw Something Terrifying in My Town’s Sewers"† written by René Rehn and performed by Mick Wingert & Dan Zappulla & Armen Taylor. (Story starts around 01:16:50) "The Hole in the Wall"¤ written by Jacob Tanner and performed by Nikolle Doolin & Jesse Cornett & Armen Taylor & Atticus Jackson. (Story starts around 01:29:00) "Underground"† written by Grace Friedman and performed by Jessica McEvoy & Dan Zappulla & Kyle Akers & Addison Peacock. (Story starts around 02:04:45) Click here to learn more about the voice actors on The NoSleep Podcast   Click here to learn more about Luke Hoehn   Click here to learn more about C.K. Walker   Click here to learn more about René Rehn   Executive Producer & Host: David Cummings Musical score composed by: Brandon Boone Audio adaptations produced by: Phil Michalski† & Jeff Clement‡ & Jesse Cornett¤ "Try to Remember" illustration courtesy of Hasani Walker Audio program ©2018-2019 - 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

Welcome to our sleepless sanctuary. You enter at your own risk and choose to be entertained with dark and disturbing horror stories. You have been warned for the dark hours when you dare not clit. Tales of horror to frighten and disturb as the sleepless hours tick. Brace yourself. for the no sleep podcast. Welcome to the No Sleep Podcast Sanctuary. I'm David Cummings.

Our service this week features tales about the dark holes through which we descend into nightmares. I want to send a big thank you to all the folks I met at PodCon last weekend in Seattle. It was great to see familiar faces, meet new fans, and connect with fellow podcasters I've known for years, but never met in person. It was a great convention, and I was very encouraged to experience such enthusiasm for podcasting.

And speaking of enthusiasm for podcasting, I want to remind those of you who are enthusiastic for our individual season pass episodes. I hope you know we sell individual episodes for all season pass episodes for only $1.49 each. And we have our rent-to-own program, which means when you buy 14 individual episodes from any one season, you can upgrade to a full season pass. Get all the details on our season pass page on our website. And now, it's time for our service to begin.

Bow your heads and hear our words. In our first tale, we encounter a condition which is not. Life-threatening by any means, but at the same time, it's possibly one of the most terrifying things to experience. Amnesia. And in this tale by author Luke Hoan, we meet a doctor charged with helping a man remember what happened to him and why he's in custody. Performing this tale are Sarah Thomas and Jeff Clement. So let's hope we never have to struggle as we... Try to remember.

Tell me your name. I check a box. What are you writing? Nothing malicious, just that you cannot recall your name. Oh, all right. He slouches back in his chair. He is tired and confused. His hands are handcuffed around a ring in the metal table between us. It's for his own safety as much as it is for mine.

Do you remember how you got here? His eyes search for an answer that he knows he should have. Amen. He closes his right eye in pain. Please, try not to strain yourself. It's all right if you don't remember everything immediately. That's why you're here. That's why I'm here.

It is? I'm going to help you remember. Let's start with your name. He frowns. He might cry. Don't think. Just answer. What is your name?

Brian. The syllables slip past his lips. He smiles. My name is Brian. That's good, Brian. My name is Dr. Nguyen. You can call me Daisy. That's very good, Brian.

You remember your wife. Oh, no. Not Daisy. She likes daisies. She's not a daisy. She's... He grimaces. A tear escapes. It runs down in a wrinkle around his mouth to his chin.

Remember. That's okay, Brian. There's no rush. Why am I here? To help you remember. Do you remember my name? Daisy. I check another box. Good.

Now, Brian, memory can be a tricky thing. When most people remember... remember something, they are remembering the last time they remembered that memory. Think of it this way. Say your memory is like a bakery and your brain is the baker. You come in and ask the baker for a cake for a special occasion, like a birthday or a wedding, for example. I am slow and deliberate, but I am still losing him. I modulate my speed and timber to match his comprehension. You know you want a special cake, but she's not going to have your exact cake or around, will she?

No, suppose not. Instead, she has your specifications and the ingredients to make that cake, the eggs, the flour, sugar, milk, and so on. She'll take your order, design a recipe, and make you that cake for that special occasion. I guess so. Now, say you come in a few months later and want the same cake. Why would I want the same cake? Who knows, Brian?

Maybe it was a delicious cake. Maybe it's for someone else's special day. What's important is that she probably wouldn't have kept that same cake on the counter all those months, right? Yes. I mean, no, but she still has all the stuff to make the cake, right? And more importantly, she now has the recipe, ingredients, and know-how to make you that. that perfect cake again. I like cake.

A small smile flickers across his face. That's good to hear, Brian. Does this analogy make sense to you? I think so. It's like I'm missing the, um, I'm missing the recipe? In a sense. I like to think that your baker's kitchen got remodeled.

Everything to make a cake is still there, the recipes and your ingredients. They are just in different locations. Just because she knew where everything was doesn't mean she knows where everything is in her new kitchen. She needs to reorient herself to her new surroundings. But once she does, she can go right back to making cakes. Have a new kitchen?

I mean, I don't understand. It's okay, Brian. That's why we are here. To help rebuild your memory and cognitive ability. The fact that you understand you don't understand is progress enough. He doesn't seem convinced. I'm sure I don't look as convinced as I should be either. Now, I'm going to ask some questions, and I want you to answer honestly and quickly.

Nothing too invasive. Just a series of questions. Do you think you're up for this, Brian? He pauses for a moment. He looks around the room and then back at me with a glint of recognition. Remember, your inner base. still knows how to bake. We just need to show her around the bakery. He looks down at his handcuffs and back at me. Okay, if you think it will help. Can you tell me about a happy

memory, Brian? Like... Anything you want? Anything, anything? Yes, Brian. Anything you want. He closes his eyes and his face twitches. He is in pain. Brian, please don't try too hard. It defeats the purpose of the exercise. I'm sorry. He looks like a dog caught wetting the floor. That's okay. You have nothing to apologize for.

Just think about a happy moment. Anything. Fireworks, candy, a puppy, anything at all. Like a... A kiss. My first kiss? That's very good, Brian. What did you see?

He closes his eyes again, and he frowns. Don't think. What do you see? Her, her braces. She's, she's blushing. Good. What's around you? Where are you? She is. She, she's next to me in a... In a what, Brian? In a booth.

We're in a restaurant. What type of restaurant? What time of day is it? Italian, maybe. It's nighttime. And what does it sound like? What do you hear? I don't...

There is sound around you. There always is. I need to keep him talking before he shuts down. Don't think. What do you hear? People, plates. metal scraping on plates, music, conversations. Good, and what do you smell?

Her. She smells like cherries. What else do you smell? Spices, uh, oregano. Flowers, a rose, maybe? Good, and how do you feel? Nervous. But...

He opens his eyes. His right eye is bloodshot. I make a note of it. And what happened before the kiss? His eyes narrow. Was this before or after your meal? Before? No.

After. After? Before? I'm losing him. He looks around the room. Where am I? Where's my wife? Do you remember my name?

Rose, you're... You're... You're here to help me remember. I check a box. What are you writing? Nothing malicious. Do you remember how you got here, Brian? Some men found me.

They found me. I was in the house. house, our house. I was with. She was... How do you know my name? You told me, remember? I make note of the progress. My name is Dr. Nguyen. Do you remember why I am here? Here to help me remember. He looks at my clipboard and back to me. Can't I remember? That's why we're here. To help me remember. Good. That's very good, Brian. I'm going to ask you another set of questions. And remember, I want you to answer honestly and quickly. Nothing too invasive. Just the first thing that comes to mind. Do you think you are up for this, Brian? Do I have a choice? Can you tell me about a sad memory, a negative memory, something that would make you feel sad or unhappy?

A sad memory? Yes. An unhappy memory. Don't think just... A funeral. Close your eyes. What do you see? His eyes stay open. A casket.

Flowers. I don't want to look. You need to look, Brian. Close your eyes and look around you. He does. His head tilts slightly to the side. Are you indoors or outdoors? Where are you?

Indoorse. A funeral home. What else is around you? Are there people? Music? Chairs. Several people are there, but they're quiet. Can't remember the music. Yes, you can, Brian. You can remember. Do you remember the flowers? Yes. What color are they? What do they smell like? White and yellow.

They... They filled a room. It smells sweet, but... Something else. Clean? Good. And how do you feel? I feel empty.

Open your eyes, Brian. Both eyes have burst a blood vessel. What happened before that moment? He flinches ever so slightly. She died. Who's gone? She... He's gone.

What happened after she died? I don't. I can't. I can't. I can't. I... I... I see a light dim behind his gaze.

He looks down in his hands and back up at me. He tries to get up from his chair, but he is secured along the waist and ankles. Where's my wife? He tries to move out of his chair. of his chair, but it is bolted to the ground. Brian, please, calm down. Brian, look at me.

His eyes dart around the room. Where is she? Look at me. He glares at me, but the hate washes away as suddenly as it came. His anger subsides and turns to realization. I think he recognizes me as someone he can trust. I need you to be calm. Can you be calm?

He nods. That's good, Brian. Do you remember me? My name? Do you remember why we are here? Lily. You're a doctor. One helping me to...

To remember. I check a box. Not Lily. She likes lilies. He looks up and around. The capillaries. and his eyes are too visible. Roses?

No, no. Not red. Different. Daisies? Daisy. Are you a Daisy? Daisy Nguyen? I make a note under the box.

Yes, Brian. That is excellent. My name is Dr. Daisy Nguyen. I was brought in to help you. You already said that. So I did. I make another note. What are you writing?

Nothing malicious, just noting your progress. Can I remember? That's what we're here to find out. You're going to ask me questions? I'm not sure if he is drawing that from memory or from his current surroundings. Yes. Are you ready for the next set of questions? You've all ready.

I already asked me questions. How long have I been here? Not that long. Why should I believe you? Because I'm here to help you, Brian. I'm here to help you remember. I know that. You've already fucking told me that. I make another note. What are you writing now? Nothing malicious, just noting your progress.

He stares at me coldly. There's anger behind his eyes. and I'm not sure if it's because of me. I'm going to need you to stay calm, Brian. Can you stay calm? Yes. Good. That's very good. I look down at his hand and he stops.

Now, Brian, can you tell me about a neutral memory? Neutral? Neither positive or negative. Don't understand. A neutral memory, Brian. Something mundane. something boring traffic standing in line

for coffee using the facilities something you've done so much that it almost has no value nothing inherently good or bad just something that is what just is I don't think

don't think just answer but I don't understand the question don't think too much on it I just need an answer how can I give you an answer when I don't understand the fucking Question. I'm going to need you to stay calm, Brian.

I raise my hand slightly over the table. I am fine. I am calm. That's good, Brian. Now please, if you can answer the question, can you tell me about a neutral memory? Neutral. Yes, neutral. I watch him and make a note of it. He's not straining.

He's thinking. I pick up coffee when I drive to work. work. Most days. Every day, I think. Don't think. Answer. That's good, Brian. Very good. He closes his eyes. I see cars. Fast food places. Oil change. Tires. Traffic. I'm in my own car. A sedan. This is the first interview he has answered me without prompting. Excellent, Brian. Any other details? Traffic is heavy. The car is dusty.

I need to clean it. It smells dusty. I really need to clean it. That same damn pop song is on the radio again. What type of coffee do you get, Brian? espresso. Americano. It's like espresso, but watered down. How does it smell?

Bitter, but not acidic. How does it taste? A little bitter, but not acidic. Very good, Brian. Can you tell me what you do in the morning before you pick up coffee? He opens his eyes. I drive there? Yes, but before that.

Back out of my driveway? Yes, and before that. I get in my car? Before that. I say goodbye to my wife. Where's my wife? He's cogent enough to realize the placidity on my face is not good news. Daisy, where's my wife?

Is she okay? No, Brian. She isn't. Is she alive? He tries to pull his hand to his mouth, but his chain stops him. Oh, God. What? happened? Did I do something? What did I do? You've suffered a severe trauma, Brian,

mentally, physically, and emotionally. You were in the hospital for several weeks without improvement before you were remanded into our care. His mouth is agape. He is trying to piece together what had happened. How could it have happened? There are no physiological reasons as to why you can't remember what happened that night. Who are you? My name is Dr. Nguyen. The directive of my organization is to prevent situations like yours from escalating. In the rare event prevention fails.

I want to see a badge. I'm a little surprised. It's the first time he has asked for it since the incident. I reach from my belt and slide my badge and ID on the table slightly out of his reach. I widen the fold with my fingers so he can get a better look. Daisy? No. It's not.

Daisy was the name I chose after several failed interviews. It seemed like a name that garnered a sense of trust. Does it still? I don't know. Are you even a doctor? I take my badge off the table. I am. Those letters, that name, I've seen it before.

How long have I been here? Do you still trust me? He pauses for a long time. He looks at his hands and fingernails before nodding. We've been through similar interviews before. Some days you remember me better than others. Today is a good day. Do you want to continue?

He's still processing all of the information. Some of it is familiar to him. Most of it is foreign. He's trying to reconcile the two. But in his silence, he hasn't said no. There's one more set of questions I want to ask you, And I want you to answer these questions as quickly and thoughtlessly as you are able. Do you think you can do this for me, Brian?

He nods again. That's good, Brian. Close your eyes. Tell me about the night you and your wife were attacked. A trail of blood drips down from his nose and onto the table. I look at it and back at him. Don't think, just answer. Where were you?

What time was it? We were home. It's dark, summer, the kitchen. What are you doing? Washing my hands. Why? Yard work. What is the temperature of the water?

It's cold. The faucet. What temperature was it set at? What direction are the handles? Warm, but the water's cold. How do your hands feel? Good. What were you doing before washing your hands?

Yard work. Yes, but what kind of yard work? Where were you? I don't remember. Think, Brian. What were you doing? What did you hear? Smell. See. It's dusk. It smells like cut grass and gasoline. I'm mowing the lawn. It's loud. Where's your wife? You said you were both home.

Was she inside or outside? She wasn't inside. She was... She was outside. Where, Brian? On a porch? A deck? Garden.

She's in the garden. I hear her scream. Why can't I see her? What do you see, Brian? The garden. Daisies. Roses. Roses.

She should be there. She what? What do you see, Brian? Nothing. There's nothing in the garden. What do you mean nothing? I can't see her. No dirt.

No flowers. Why can't I see her? What do you hear? Whose laughter? I don't... Your wife's? No, a man. Is it a tall man?

A short man. Young. Old. Tall. Tall. Taller than me. But not by much. What does he look like? That's okay, Brian. What is he wearing? Is he white? Black? Does he have hair? His hands are... A second trickle of blood flows down from his other nostril. Why can't I see his face? Smells, Brian. Sins. What else do you smell? Cologne. Soap. Anything? Cigarettes.

Is he smoking? Yes. What happened before that, Brian? I don't remember. Brian, what happened before that? I don't remember. I can't. Brian, please.

I don't remember! His eyes pop open and blood is trickling down his ears. He is panting heavily, and a vein pushes out in his forehead. I wait, and after several long moments, he begins to calm. His chest rises and falls, but he soon starts to forget what caused it. I hear. To help you remember. Remember what?

His docile face is sullied with a mix of blood, snot, and tears. Do you remember my name? Have we met before? Yes, I'm a doctor. You had an incident that has affected your memory. Where's my wife? I just needed to do a quick checkup. I'll call a nurse in here to check your vitals and bring you back to your room.

I roll my chair away from the desk and knock on the glass. Two orderlies come in and I wheel myself out. I hear them undo his cuffs and they escort him out. Brian looks back at me and he looks lost. He wants to be rescued, but he can't remember. from what? I do my best to hold it together, but I barely make it down the hall before I burst into tears. I hold my eyes closed and try to stifle the sobs. Giving this to yourself, Julia. It's his fatherly voice, not the voice of his section chief.

I try to roll away, but he stops the chair. We have other doctors we can bring in? I wipe away the tears. No. wouldn't have the specialized experience needed for this type of case. They also wouldn't have the emotional baggage. This abnormal subject, this mind thief, as the analysts call it, went directly after your husband specifically to hurt you and to send a warning to the rest of us to back off.

Yes, I have a personal stake in this, but that is an asset, not a liability. Do you want this to happen to someone you love? You have a son in the field, correct? It's been over a year. Yes, but we made good progress today. He looks down at my legs. I used to be able to remember how to walk. He owes me.

The suspect is between 5, 10, and 6 feet. Older male, Caucasian, Smoker. You have the recordings. This line of questioning is the best yet for reconstructing memory. The scans will prove it. I'll get more information about the ABSub tomorrow. Let's hope so. Is there anything else, sir?

He looks down at me. Everyone does these days. There's no guarantee you'll get him back, you know. You need to prepare yourself in the event the man you married is gone. Tabula Rasa. That's not what the recordings show. He's in there, sir. I know it.

I'm his wife. He'll remember me. We all enjoy the chance to get away for a bit of a break, even just a hike to clear our head and think deep thoughts. But in this tale from author C.K. Walker, we meet a young man who just wants to find some privacy, smoke some weed, and unwind. You wouldn't think something so innocent would descend into a nightmare, would you? Performing this tale are Peter Lewis, Jessica McAvoy. and Erica Sanderson. So if you're out hiking, please watch your step.

You wouldn't want to fall. Dual Smokespot was off the Northeastern Trail next to a little creek where I could watch the fish as I got high. The trail itself was boring and flat, and the views were unimpressive, even though it was dubbed the Lake Loop. People rarely took the Northeastern Trail, so I was used to having it all to myself.

But that day, I decided to take the Western Trail. I shouldn't have done that. My name's Kevin. I work at Pep Boys. I still live at home, and I get stoned after work every day. Pretty sure my mom knows I do, but I like to hit the Chicago parks to smoke anyway, you know, out in nature. The day I took the Western Trail.

had been a rough one. I'd forgotten to tighten a radiator cap and a lady came back with a smoking engine. My boss yelled at me in front of everyone, including the customer, which was fucking embarrassing, because I can't quit this job. I need this job. I decided to spend some extra time with my bowl that day. I parked in my usual spot next to the bathrooms and walked toward the Northeastern Trailhead. Used to the solitude I legitimately jumped when I heard a screech and then a shout behind me. I turned just in time to avoid a toddler who was being chased by an overwrought man in his 30s. Slow down, Jaden. Wait for your mother and your sisters. A shrill cry pulled my attention to a belabored woman slamming the trunk of a Mazda nearby. Two crying girls were pulling at her

arms. They're spiders in the backyard too, Eva. The little boy was scooped up in his father's arms. No monkeys here, buddy. The kid screamed so loud, I think I went deaf for a moment. So, the Western Trail it was. I hadn't walked it often, preferring the even, easy path of the Lake Loop. The Western wound up into the hills, which meant to

more cardio and less relaxation. Still, it was better than the other option. I pivoted, smiled, and sent the woman a little two-fingered salute before making my way over to the entrance of the Western Trail. I walked for about 20 minutes, all uphill, before I split off from the trail on what looked like a well-used deer path. It was another 10 before I found a good spot. It was just a little clearing with a fallen tree and a good view of the park. I pulled out my bowl, packed it, and flipped open my zippo. Inhaling the northern lights, I let it all melt away. My boss, my shitty car, my basement apartment, and even those kids from the parking lot, it all floated away from me like the smoke on the breeze. It was a gorgeous.

day for this early in the spring, and I stayed for maybe half an hour to take it all in. Eventually, though, I packed it up. The sun was getting close to the horizon, and it was a couple miles back to my car, all downhill or not. I stood up and stretched, liking this smoke spot, but perhaps not as much as my usual where I could watch the fish. It was pretty, though, so I decided to take a few pictures before I left. The trees, the sky, the fallen log, they made good pictures. And if I had left after taking them, none of it ever would have happened. I would have driven home and gone to bed.

I would still have my crappy job, and I would still drive my shitty car. I would still watch the fish when I got high. Unfortunately, though, my eyes caught the way the sinking sunlight was filtering gold through some trees. down the hillside. It looked incredible, and I had to take a picture of that, too. So I walked over toward the edge. The ground was covered in undergrowth and moss. There was no way to see it until I felt it. On the fifth step, my foot went down as normal, but then it kept going, sinking, and when I stumbled, my other foot caught up to the stuck one, and it sunk into the ground. ground, too. I fell forward and caught myself on my hands, phone flying into the underbrush.

The jarring on my body sent my legs even deeper into the ground up to my knees. I wasn't sinking, not exactly, no. It was a hole, a deep hole, and I was stuck halfway in it. I twisted to pull my legs out, but that hume made me sink deeper. So deep I was up to my waist. The hole was tight, pinching around my hips in a punishing grip. I kicked my legs against the sides of the hole, trying to get enough purchase to leverage myself out. My feet scraped the dirt walls, but found nothing to push against it. I couldn't lift my knees. I braced my hands against the ground and pushed as hard as I could, trying to lift myself out. I gained an inch, but when I relaxed my arms to try again, I sunk deeper into the hole, much deeper. The ground gripped my body so

tightly that I finally started to panic. I was now sunken into the hole up to my armpits, only my shoulders, arms, and head remained above ground. The dirt was like a vice around me. My chest was so constricted I couldn't even get a full breath into my lungs. I reached for the grass and pulled. The stalks broke in my hands. I took bigger handfuls of it. I felt the dirt around my chest, shift. Jesus Christ, who was working? I let go, intending to put my hands flat on the ground and push. But before I could even blink, my body fell further down the hole. all the way down. I was now in the dark.

I couldn't see. My arms were above my head, shoulders folded in at an unnatural angle. I was completely enveloped in the hole. No one would be able to see me from the surface. It was hardly big enough from my body. I couldn't lift my knee, not even half an inch. My head was stuck between my chest and shoulders in such a way that I couldn't even even look up toward the sky, and I still couldn't breathe all the way in. So I panicked.

Help! Help! I yelled down into my chest, voice cracking. I tried to take another breath, one deep enough to really scream, but I could only take half breaths. I slipped down a little more, and the hole felt even smaller. But still, I was slipping, being crushed in. in from the sides as the hole tapered more and more. I yelled again as loud as I could. Help me, please, help. I kicked my feet against the walls. They scraped against them. More dirt. I fell a little more. I started to have trouble breathing. I was encased in a tube of rock almost 20 feet underground at this point. What if this hole went on forever? What if I died in here? I started to, I started to hyperventilate. There was no room to move at all now. I nodded my head back and forth

between the wall and my shoulders, which were behind my head. If I pushed, really pushed, to possibly tore a muscle, I could look up and scream in the direction of the surface. I could feel the muscles stretching and aching behind my shoulder blades as I tipped my head back. I could feel them pulling, tearing, but still I continued. I felt the wall hit the back of my head, and I blinked away the pain in my shoulders. Looking up, I saw light, but it was far away. I had fallen much further down the hole than I'd thought. There wasn't even room for me to sob.

There wasn't enough air to breathe. My ribs were pinched. My vision was clouding. I wasn't getting enough oxygen, and my lungs started to burn. I licked my lips and inhaled again the millimeter or so that I could. My scream came out as a squeak, but at least in the right direction, up. Somebody, somebody, help me, please. The please was barely out of my mouth before I was falling again.

I went down another ten feet or so before the walls suddenly opened up. I crashed hard into solid ground and cried out as I hit the side of my hip. I lay for a couple of minutes in the dark, catching my breath now that I could actually breathe again. I rolled onto my back and looked up. The surface was only a pinpoint of light now. It was very, very far away. Oh, fuck, oh, fuck.

I started to shake. I had no idea what the fuck. fuck I was going to do where I was or how to get out. I reached over and massaged my hip, which pulled on my shoulder and the torn muscles there. If I had to guess, I would say my hip was bruised, but not broken. What was broken, however, was my bowl. I pulled the broken pieces out of my pocket and threw them into the darkness. They hit a wall nearby. I pulled out my zippo. It took me two tries to light it because my hands were shaking. But when I finally did, I was able to get a look at the chamber I had fallen into. It was small, maybe six feet by eight feet. The walls, floor,

and ceiling made of dirt. It wasn't a naturally occurring formation in the ground. I knew that because there were strange scratch marks in the corners, and there was no rock in the chamber, only carved out dirt. Something had made this, and then there was the nest in the corner. It was also made of dirt, loosely packed and high on the sides. There were patches of fur from various animals littered around the nest, and next to it, another hole. This one was... slightly bigger than the hole I'd just fallen through, and it led down at an angle, not a vertical drop like the one in the ceiling. I looked back up at the hole I'd fallen through. The light from outside was now purple, dusk.

Help! Help! Help me! I sat there yelling up at the hole until the light went from purple to gray to non-existent. I yelled over and over. I yelled until I was hoarse. Somebody fucking help me. Eventually, I was silent. Hours later, just lying on my back, looking up at the ceiling.

I used the zippo on and off. I tried to conserve the fuel, only using it when the darkness pressed in too much. In the deep of night, I drifted off for a moment. And when I awoke, the light from the hole seemed to be turning gray again. That meant day. Day meant people. I watched as the gray warmed to a pink color. I decided to try and collect pieces of my bowl and smoke out of it just to keep the worst of the panic at bay. I was on my hands and knees feeling around for the bowl when I heard it. The scratching. Something was moving, something was coming through the hole in the wall next to the net. It scratched as it scurried, and then it trilled. I didn't move. Chances are, whatever the animal was, it could see me in the dark, but who knew?

I remained stretched, reaching out toward the glass, my shoulders burning, and turned along the wall toward its nest. I remained still, and then I heard a piece of glass go spinning. The thing made a shrill shriek, not unlike the kids from the parking lot. It was angry, I think. The thing kept shrieking, the sound ear piercing. Suddenly I heard it, ran across the room, a scamper up the wall, and then it was walking across the ceiling somehow.

Trilled again, the sound right over my head. But still, I... didn't move. I just raised my eyes to the ceiling, bracing for it. The light from the hole was brighter. Day was here. I could see the animal, but just barely. It was larger than I expected. The hole that had come through was very small, so it must be able to warp its body to fit through tight spaces. The shadow on the ceiling above me was, it was maybe the size of a large bore, but had long arms and legs like a primate. It didn't look like it had hair or a tail, but the features were impossible to make out. I could tell that it was looking at me. Before my eyes could adjust

further, the animal suddenly shrieked in my face. I fell back, scuttling. toward the wall. The light from the ceiling disappeared, and I realized that the creature was in the hole. I pressed my hands against my mouth and bit down on my palm. Don't, don't fucking scream. I had never seen an animal like that, ever. After a few minutes, I noticed the light had returned. Either the thing was on the surface, or it had come back down into the room with me. My eyes adjusted to the light again, and I looked around. Nothing. I crawled to the center of the room and looked up, screaming, for help, for rescue, for someone to know I was down there.

I screamed until I lost my voice, but no one screamed back. Eventually I picked up all the pieces of my bowl. I tried to smoke it. And when that didn't work, I ate the weed. I was thirsty, hungry, and terrified. And I was alone. By now I had been a no-show at work, and my friends were probably calling me. My phone was still on the surface somewhere, but I hoped someone would be able to track it.

The cops or the FBI or something. My mom wouldn't start to worry for another few days. As the light in the hole again cooled to gray, I started to accept what few options I had. I could stay in this cavern and scream upwards for help until I died of dehydration. Or I could go through the hole. Not the one I had come down. There was no way to reach it. The other hole, the one next to the nest.

let even deeper underground. Maybe there would be a way out on the other side, but maybe there wouldn't be. I made a decision, not a split second after I heard the scratching coming down the hole above me. I had to get out of this room before it came back down the hole. I didn't know if my body would even fit through the other tunnel, but I was a skinny guy, and it was my only option. I flicked open the zip, bow, lit it and crawled toward the hole. My arms went first, and then I shimmied my shoulders through the thickest part of my body. I pulled my chest and hips through next. It was a little bigger than I thought with rock on all sides, likely naturally forming. I pulled myself through the tight little tunnel inch by inch. In the places where I had enough room to lift my head, I saw the black walls of

the tunnel reflected in the flicker of flame and the endless darkness ahead of me. In some places the tunnel got tighter or opened up a little, but there was nothing else to see. I could hear the creature in the room behind me scratching at its nest. I mouthed to the same words over and over again. Please, please don't let it come down the tunnel. I kept crawling. I felt my hair flick back. I felt from my forehead and a cool breeze on my face. I stopped crawling and in that instant the flame went out on the Zippo. The scratching was farther behind me now, way back in the nesting chamber. It wasn't coming. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I noticed thin daylight coming from my right. As quietly as I could, I relit the Zippo to see where the breeze and the light was coming from.

It was another tunnel, one that bisected the one I was in. I shoved the zippo into that tunnel and my heart dropped. There was a muted gray light somewhere at the end of it, but it was too narrow for me to crawl through. I had never felt more like crying. The tunnel wasn't a viable option, so I kept going. It was an hour, maybe more. I eventually had to put the zippo away because I was worried. about using up all the fuel. The darkness was blinding, thick. It felt like a blanket,

but not one that comforted you, one that smothered you. And then the worst happened. I pulled my chest through a narrow section of the cave tunnel, assuming it was like all the others and would open back up immediately. When it didn't, I couldn't even reach my Zippo to see what I was dealing with. My hips were stuck between the rock walls, even though I could leverage my knees against the side of the cave and pull back. My body just wouldn't budge. I was stuck. I could feel the panic washing over me. It was dark, cold.

I was pinned in a tunnel, a hundred feet underground. I was alone, and it was... still, silent, until it wasn't. I heard of the thing in the tunnel somewhere far behind me. I had to move, even if I had to break my bones, I had to move. So I did. I struggled and pushed and pulled. I grunted and screamed in pain when I felt muscle tear or bone,

flex unnaturally. There was no point in trying to hide my position from the animal. It was coming either way. And finally, finally, for no reason I could figure out my hips were suddenly through. I yelped in relief, completely numb to the pain and crawled forward quickly. Right over the lip of the tunnel and onto a floor a few feet down. It was another room. Ignoring my body aches, I grabbed for the zippo in my pocket and flicked it open.

This room wasn't much bigger than the last. There was no nest or hole in the ceiling. There were some stalagmites, but those were tertiary facts I didn't notice right away. No, the first thing I saw were the bones. Most were small, likely from rats or prairie dogs, squirrels. The biggest skeleton I saw was maybe raccoon-sized. I kicked a few bones out of the way and spun back around toward the hole. The thing was still coming. I held the zippo up and waited, but the tunnel had gone silent. The creature didn't emerge.

When I felt confident it wasn't coming, I started to catalog the room more thoroughly. No nest in this chamber, just bones and bones. some sticks from outside. There was another hole in the chamber, this one too high up on the wall for me to reach. And even if I could, I could already tell it was too small to give my shoulders through. I was, I was trapped in here. I fell back against the wall and slid down it, setting the lighter on the floor in front of me. I dropped my head into my hands and began to cry. I was thirsty and hungry and fucking tired. And it was becoming more and more obvious that I was going to die down here.

I don't know how long I sat against the wall, crying. I only know that I was still sobbing when I heard the thing in the room with me. I jerked my head up and stared. The light from the zippo didn't stretch into the corners. And that's where the thing was sitting. I couldn't tell its shape any better from here, but its eyes were like twin beacons of green reflected back at me in the light of the flame. It moved its head side to side, then up and down. It was watching me, curious about me, probably wondering what I was, and what I was doing in its lair so far underground.

I'm not here to hurt you, buddy. My voice sounded strange after using it only to scream for the last two days. My name's Kevin. I'm nice. I won't eat you. You don't eat me. Cool? It continued to watch me.

I leaned forward and pinched the lighter between my fingers, pushing it forward to get a better look. I wanted to know. what sort of animal I was dealing with. The thing kept watching me. With the added light, I was able to barely make out that the creature wasn't standing. It was sitting. And it looked bigger than when I'd seen it on the ceiling. I moved to the light further away from me, and my hand bumped into some of the bones on the floor. Do you know how to get out of here? The thing shrieked, shrill, and high, terrible. It echoed around the room and I slammed my hands over my ears. The Zippo tipped over and went out. I reached for it scrambling to find it amongst the bones. I could hear the creature

on the ceiling again. It was above me still shrieking. It made its way overhead toward the other hole. It continued to shriek as it disappeared down the new tunnel. How it fit I could only guess. My fingers touched cold metal, and I snatched up the lighter and lit it. The chamber was empty. I stood up and walked back over to the tunnel I'd come out of. My skin was scraped to shit, raw and bleeding in many places. My ribs were bruised, maybe even broken. Breathing was hard. I could only risk going back into the tunnel if I had no other option. And it looked like that was going to be the case. I walked around the new room, kicking the bones on the floor.

I'm not sure what I was looking for. Something sharp, or weapon, perhaps. There was nothing but small, sharp bones. One of them would have to do if I couldn't find something bigger. I walked around one of the large stalagmites in the room. There were almost no bones on the other side, the area clear, Intrigued, I stepped closer and immediately realized my mistake. In an instant my body was again encased in a hole up to my rib cage.

This time my arms were pinned to my sides. I let out a sob of despair, and then only my eyes remained level with the edge of the hole. I screamed in frustration and fucking panic. This hole was wider than the one on the surface. I was able to kick and thrash my lower body. I sunk further in, the edge of the hole now a few feet above my head. Arms still pinned down. I continued to flail, angry, desperate, scared.

And suddenly I was in free fall again, but it lasted forever. I fell deeper and deeper, struggling to catch myself again. against the walls of the hole. But the dirt just came loose and rained around me. And then there was no more hole, and I was falling into a big room. Falling, falling so far, I wondered if I would survive it. The first thing they hit was my right leg. The bone shot right through the skin of my shin, shredding it.

The rest of my body, surprisingly, hit cold water. I was under for a moment, not sure which way was up or if I cared. Drowning wouldn't be the worst of my options at this point. I broke the surface and screamed at the pain in my leg. I was standing in chest high water and holding onto the rock at the edge of an underground stream. I could feel the water was moving around me, but I couldn't even tell in which direction. The lighter was gone. It was pitch black.

I would never see anything ever again. No mom, no shitty car, no friends, not even light. Just this sprawling blackness that sunk into your skin and invaded all the empty places in your body down to the bone. I shivered in the freezing water, run off from somewhere. Remembering how thirsty I was, I lowered my mouth to the surface of the surface of the stream and drank giant throatfuls of water until I vomited it up, and then drank the somehow dirt-dry tasting water again. As my thirst wane and the shock receded, I began to feel pain again.

My leg was fucked. The only way I was ever getting out of here was by crawling or floating. Shit, the stream. The water had to be coming from the surface. clinging to the rocky walls, I pulled myself against the current until I found the source of the water. It was a wall and the stream was coming from underneath it. I reached under it with my arm and then my foot, but I couldn't feel another air pocket. There could be one, maybe six feet upstream, maybe 30 feet, maybe miles. I was running out of the energy to scream or kick, or otherwise. express my frustration. So instead, I simply tipped back and let the current pull me away from the wall.

The creature wasn't here, even though I'd fallen down one of its holes. It was just me in the water and the darkness and whatever air this chamber had left to give me. As I let the current pull me along, I began to hear a new sound, the sound of falling water. a falling water that was coming up quickly. I reached for the wall, but the rock was smooth. I couldn't find purchase. I began to panic. The sound got louder.

And then my legs were suddenly sucked under another rock wall along with the water. I braced myself against the wall as the current tried desperately to pull me under and down the waterfall I could hear on the other side. It was certain death. I could hear how far the water was falling. I could hear the drop. And even if the fall miraculously didn't kill me, I would end up even further underground. No, I would hold myself against this wall until my arms gave out. My shoulders were already protesting.

The water's drag on my open fracture was excruciating. But still, I held. I wouldn't die like this. I wouldn't. minutes, maybe hours, I stayed pinned to that wall, body screaming. It hurt. And the fall started to sound not so bad, maybe enticing. A quick death.

The water would carry my body, maybe eventually find its way above ground. Maybe people would know what happened to me. I didn't want to die here in this cave. I didn't want it to be my tomb. I wanted to know that my body saw daylight again. I don't know how long I was there considering the fall. And I don't know when I first noticed it. It tickled my peripheral at first, teased my brain, just a whisper of a hope.

It started with definition in the rock wall. Then I could see the wisps of wet hair in my eyes, the shape of the water as it split around a rock several feet away. Light. There was light in this cavern. It must have been night when I'd fallen here. A day had brought the light. The second I was sure it wasn't some sort of illusion. I pushed against the wall using reserves of strength. I didn't know I had to twist a little. The light was there. Coming from a tunnel, a hole I could reach, a hole I could fit through. If I could get out of the stream without being sucked under the wall, I could climb out. I could get to that hole. I could see the surface again.

It took almost everything. I was exhausted. I didn't have much left. But with the addition of light, I could now see the edges of the stream. I could see a place to climb out, I could see a small stalagmite to my left that I could use as a handhold, a way to pull myself toward the low edge. Saying a prayer to a God I didn't much believe in, I turned away from the wall and pushed off, knowing that if I missed that little stalagmite, I would surely be sucked underneath the wall and flung off the waterfall on the other side. I felt my hand close around it, and I kicked with my one good leg until I could get my other hand around it, and then my arms. I stayed there clinging to that rock while the water raged around me, trying to tear me away.

Muscle exhaustion was returning. My body was shutting down. I had stopped shivering. I needed to get out. I turned and kicked off the rock. The edge wasn't far, and pulling myself out of the water was easier than I thought. The rock was smooth and slippery. Once I was out of the stream, I again lay, catching my breath, resting my body.

I was hungry and so tired. My eyes drifted, closed, and stayed that way. It should have been the cold or the pain, but it was actually a sound that woke me up. The screech of a bird, maybe. I turned my head. The light from the tunnel was softer now, perhaps late afternoon. I had slept all day. I tested my body and found that very little strength had returned from my rest.

I rolled onto my stomach and dragged myself off the rock and into the dirt. Inch by inch, I made my way to the hole in the wall, the tunnel to the surface. If it was a bird I had heard, the tunnel couldn't be that long. And if it wasn't the bird, oh, it was the thing from above, and it was in the room, I got closer and closer to the hole. Please be a bird. Please tell me it was a bird.

But as I reached the opening of the tunnel and looked through, I knew it wasn't. The tunnel was too long to hear a bird from the surface. The creature was in here with me. I pulled myself through the hole and into the tunnel. It was about the same length as the first one I'd fallen through and had a steady incline. I knew it must be underneath the hill and the tunnel would spit me out at ground level. And if I could get out, I could live.

It was long. It was slow. I had to dig deep for the strength to crawl forward every time. I pulled myself toward the light. So I didn't immediately notice the creature was in the tunnel with me. I didn't understand why it was following me. Curiosity, boredom, was it territorial? It only ate small animals and it hadn't attacked me yet.

I tried to concentrate on the light in front of me. Keep moving. The creature kept its distance. It could have easily caught up to me, but it hung back. I didn't care. I was now only several yards away from the opening. I could smell grass. I could hear the wind.

I dragged myself faster. I was using my last stores of energy. I could see the end. I knew as soon as I pulled myself through the other side, my body would give up, would pass out. But I wouldn't be underground anymore. I was five feet from the hole. I could see trees.

I heard the creature behind me scratching as it followed me, but I didn't care. Four feet. I reached out a hand. Some of the long stalks of grass were blowing inside the tunnel from the edge. I reached for one to help pull me along, but my shoulder caught. It was exactly then that I realized something. I had been too focused on the light, the end of the tunnel. I hadn't seen the tapered walls. The low ceiling at the end. My chest was lodged. One arm was pinned to my side, the other out in front of me, reaching for the surface. I couldn't squirm.

I couldn't roll. I couldn't kick or push or pull. I had no more energy and no more room. I was entombed in this tunnel, able to see the world reach for it, but never rejoin it. I would never escape the underground. I watched the long grass, whisked back and forth at the opening, watched the shadows linger, watched the light dying. I whispered for help.

That was all I had left. The stars came out. I could see those, too. I could see the world just right there. But I could never be a point. part of it. When the creature began to rip apart my jeans and then the flesh around my calves, I continued to watch the night sky while it ate my legs, and then the meat around my hips. Still, I reached for the world. And when I finally drifted into death to the tune of crickets

singing, I thought, at least I had that. Never get out of the ground, but I could see the stars. As our service concludes, we send you away with our blessings. If you would like to find out how you can hear the full-length versions of our audio program, please visit the no-sleeppodcast.com to learn about our season pass program. Over 60 hours of content for only 1999. On behalf of everyone at the No Sleep Podcast, we thank you for listening. Join us again next week in our sleepless sanctuary.

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