The NoSleep Podcast - NoSleep Podcast S12E13

Episode Date: March 10, 2019

It's episode 13 of Season 12. On this week's show we have tales about those things outside of human perception which are always waiting for us. "Our Hands Are Tied to The Ocean Floor"† written by Elias Witherow and performed by Graham Rowat & Jessica McEvoy. (Story starts around 00:02:50) "Totality"† written by T. Takeda Wise and performed by Jessica McEvoy & Nikolle Doolin & Mike DelGaudi. (Story starts around 00:16:00) "There Is No Such Thing as Real Magic"‡ written by Edwin Crowe and performed by David Ault & James Cleveland & Jeff Clement & Dan Zappulla. (Story starts around 00:38:30) "The Turtles"† written by Kevin R. Doyle and performed by Mike DelGaudio & Mick Wingert & Alexis Bristowe. (Story starts around 01:08:50) "End Game"¤ written by Sue Han and performed by Kyle Akers & Graham Rowat & Addison Peacock & Jesse Cornett & Mike DelGaudio. (Story starts around 01:35:50) Click here to learn more about the voice actors on The NoSleep Podcast   Click here to learn more about the "White Pines" Kickstarter   Click here to learn more about Elias Witherow   Click here to learn more about T. Takeda Wise   Click here to learn more about Edwin Crowe   Click here to learn more about Kevin R. Doyle   Executive Producer & Host: David Cummings Musical score composed by: Brandon Boone Audio adaptations produced by: Phil Michalski† & Jeff Clement‡ & Jesse Cornett¤ "Totality" illustration courtesy of Krys Hookuh 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 take tales of horror to frighten and disturbed. As the sleepless hours tick, brace yourself for the news. for the No Sleep Podcast. Welcome to the No Sleep Podcast Sanctuary. I'm David Cummings. Our service this week features tales about those things outside of human perception,

which are always waiting for us. One of the authors we have featured on the podcast is Gemma Amor. Gemma is co-creator of the Calling Darkness podcast, well worth checking out as their third episode drops this Thursday. and her novel, Cruel Works of Nature, continues to get rave reviews. Gemma is in the midst of funding her newest project, a novel titled White Pines. Twenty years ago, the town of White Pines vanished, taking all 1,346 inhabitants with it. The novel deals with the nightmarish mystery that surrounds the place where it once stood.

What about all the people who lived there? What about the family and friends left behind? Why does no one talk about White Pines? Journalist Megan Douglas is on a grim mission to find answers to questions the world has stopped asking. Gemma has a Kickstarter to raise the funds needed to publish both the book and the audiobook read by the author. Check the show notes for a link to the project and consider supporting this compelling story. I've had the pleasure of reading the forward and this story will definitely be a page turner. That's White Pines by Gemma Amour. And now it's time for our service to begin.

Bow your heads and hear our words. In our first tale, we find ourselves on a tiny boat in the middle of the ocean. It started as a romantic getaway, a chance for some peace and solitude. But as author Elias Witherow shows, the ocean can be a scary place. And even when you think you're alone, when nobody else could possibly be about, it's worth looking closer at that speck on the horizon. Performing this tale are Graham Rowett and Jessica McAvoy. So join us as we discover our hands are tied to the ocean floor.

If someone finds this, I hope this account shed some light on what happened to me. As of now, things look grim, and I'm trying to cling to some form of hope, but I'm mostly doing it for Mel, my girlfriend. If I crack, she'll crack. So I'm putting on a brave face and recording my fears here, for you, whoever you are. Three days ago, I rented a boat and took her out to sea. I wanted to do something romantic, watch the sunset over the water or something. We've been together for a couple years now, and the idea of a ring grows more appealing by the day. The captain of the small 36-foot vessel was named Henry, is named Henry.

Last I checked, he's still alive. The weather it was bad when we left, but it was the last day of our vacation, and I wanted to make it special for Mel. We should have turned back long before night took us, but I kept feeding Henry money. He saw the storm clouds. He knew the risks. But I kept flashing hundreds and paid for him to ignore the coming hell, putting my faith in his abilities to navigate us safely back home.

That was a mistake. Also, I'm pretty sure he was drunk before we even set sail. If you can put a face to the term sea dog, then you know all you need to about our captain. The storm came just as predicted. Caught us way, way out at sea and obviously fucked us up. It was one of the most terrifying things I've ever lived through. The waves, the rain, the thunder. I'm honestly surprised we're all still alive.

Well, Henry's into it. too well. He's below deck in the small cabin, lying across one of the two cots. The sail snapped during the gale and cracked him hard across the head. I managed to stop the blood flow, but he's touch and go. Which leaves me absolutely screwed. Even if I knew how to operate a boat, I couldn't because we have no sail. The small engine was lost in the storm, snapped free when the mast came crashing down. I tried the radio, but I can't seem to raise anyone. I don't even know if I'm doing it right. I used up all the flares as well. That was three days ago when shit hit the fan.

There's some food left. A meager supply stored in the cabin below, but it won't last long. I can't believe any of this. Three days we've been adrift and at the mercy of the tide. We haven't seen anyone. Henry's strength is failing, and he sleeps most of the time. Mel stopped crying yesterday and has gone mostly silent, which leaves you and me.

I'm scared And I have no idea if I'll live through this Another day has passed The sun was hot today so we stayed mostly below deck The last thing we need is blistering sunburned To add to our misery Henry didn't move much today He managed to ask me about the radio

And tried to give me instruction on how to use it But I couldn't understand most of what he was saying I think he's getting worse We need to get him to a hospital I thought I saw something on the horizon At some point earlier But I think it was a lot of sure just my imagination. It was just a sliver of darkness, a shadow, probably a mirage. I can't take the

silence. Mel just isn't engaging anymore. It's like she's given up. I don't think I can handle this. Don't leave me alone with my thoughts. They're dark enough as it is. Same day, I'm sitting on the deck beneath the full moon. The waves are alive with its light. It'd be beautiful if it wasn't so haunting. Mel's asleep down below deck. I tried the radio again like I have been. I thought I wasn't able to pick up anything. It's just after midnight, and I'm tired. But I don't want to sleep.

I don't want to go down into the cabin and listen to Mel toss and turn as nightmares plague her. She's so scared. So am I. About an hour ago, I thought I heard something. Probably nothing, but I want to keep writing, so I'll tell you about it. It sounded like clacking.

Like someone smacking two pieces of firewood together. Twice, it happened. But it was so faint, I'm not sure it was even real. Probably not. I need to sleep at some point. But not yet. Maybe we'll be rescued tomorrow. As if.

We saw something today. It was around midday, and Mel was on deck with me. She saw it first. It was the strangest thing. It was a canoe. A huge, weathered canoe. It had to be at least twice. 20 feet long. It looked old, wooden, and was completely empty. The ends of its curvature rose up into sharp tips, almost needle-thin. I've never seen anything like it. I took it as a good sign. Maybe there's an island nearby or something. It lifted Mel's spirits, thankfully. She started talking again, got excited. Despite my lingering hope, something about that canoe made me feel uneasy. It just drifted by about 50 yards from our boat and then out of sight.

I wish it had come closer because I could have sworn there was something written on the side. Manors to get some food in Henry today. He seemed a little better after that. Asked us what day it was, how long we've been out here, instructed me how to send an SOS on the radio, which I did. Haven't heard anything back. I'll keep trying.

I told him about the canoe. I didn't expect the reaction he gave me. His face went white, and he grabbed me by the shirt and pulled me close. He whispered something earth. urgently in my ear, with all the strength he could muster. Stay away from there. Night again. Mel's asleep at my shoulder.

I'm on deck, just watching the water. I'm lonely. I'm scared. And I can't help but think we're never going to be rescued. Hold on. Saw something just now. Two canoes just drifted past our boat. They were identical.

They looked like the one I saw yesterday. What on earth are they? Where do they come from? They were closer this time, about 20 yards out. And this time I was able to see them clearly beneath the light of the full moon. There was something scrolled along the sides in big dark letters. Our hands are tied to the ocean floor. What the fuck does that mean?

They drifted into one another and collided briefly. It made the same noise I heard the other day. Horrible day today. Henry stopped breathing for a couple seconds, but Mel was able to revive him. He's asleep now, but she's a mess. I spent most of the day trying to comfort her. It seemed kind of pointless. I can't lie about the danger we're in.

I'm waiting for her to go to sleep so I can go up on deck again and watch the stars. It's the only piece I can seem to find lately. Night. Just me in the night sky. The stars are brilliant right now. I feel like crying. There's not much food left. We're really pushing it.

We might have another three days before we're out. That's if we're careful. Something just happened. I almost dropped my dictaphone in the water. It scared me so bad. It was like there were hundreds of them. I can't stop thinking about what was written along the sides of those things. It's late now.

I ended up falling asleep on deck. But I'm up again. Still night. And I can't believe what I'm staring at right now. There are hundreds of canoes out there, beneath the moon. They're close to our boat, clustered together in a tight circle. They're just floating there, bumping into one another and making that terrible sound. I feel it pressing into my skull.

Each one has the same thing written across it. Our hands are tied to the ocean floor. Henry died today. Didn't have anything to say yesterday. We ran out of food. waiting for the hunger to catch up. I can already feel it. And yet I know it's only the start of our torment.

Didn't see any of the canoes last night. Saw something else. Lights. Lights in the water. There were two, and they were very far away. Green, like spotlights beneath the depths. I watched them for a long time while Mill cried herself to sleep. I cried a little, too.

I don't think we're getting rescued. There's something wrong with this place. Trying to ignore the hunger. Been watching the canoes instead. They're back. Dozens of them. Mel is watching them too. It's cloudy today, so we're sitting on the deck.

She keeps muttering to herself over and over again. I didn't catch it at first. Did eventually. My hands are tied to the ocean floor. Mel's God. I woke up in the middle of the night because I heard splashing. When I saw she wasn't next to me. I panicked. It seems my fears weren't in vain. She's fucking gone. She left me a note. I don't even know what it means. It's nonsense. Biblical shit. Shit about hell. I cried so hard. Harder than I ever have before. The lights are back. Closer. Whatever the source is, it's huge. The volume of water that's ignited by these two beams is incredible. Something about it scares the shit out of me.

Probably because the canoes are back. They seem to be swarming the lights drawn to them. Something terrible is down there. I think I might kill myself. I'm so hungry, watching the lights and the darkness again. They're blinking. Don't know if that's good or bad. I can't count how many of those fucking canoes there are.

Clacking together. Always fucking clacking. Been a couple hours. I got lost in my thoughts, mesmerized by the lights. Something's changed. It's the canoes. I can see something in them. Things, shadows, masses of darkness standing beneath the moonlight.

They have horns coming out of their heads. Huge, long horns that extend high into the sky. I think they're watching me. I think I'm losing. my mind. I'm going to swim out to the canoes tonight. They'll be back. It seemed to only appear at night now. The hunger has consumed me. And the thirst drank some ocean water earlier and then threw up an hour later. I'm not going to last much longer. If I'm going to die, then I want to know what the fuck is going on out here. This is it. Lights are back. The canoes are here.

They're all filled with those terrible horned shadows. I think they're waiting for me. I think Mel saw them. Because the longer I watch them, the more I want to go out to them. I understand the madness of that. But I don't care. I'm going to go now. The lights are blinking so fast.

Studying the stars. It can be a fun hobby. burning balls of gas millions of light years away. Who knows what mysteries they hold? But as author, T. Takata Wise shows us, it's not always the stars that hold the intrigue. Sometimes the danger can come a little closer to home. Performing this tale are Jessica McAvoy, Mike Delgado, and Nicole Doolin.

So let's learn that when you're busy looking up, It's easy to miss looking down and seeing the true totality. I'm an amateur astronomer. Very amateur. Don't get me wrong, I love stargazing, but I'm also your average millennial. Deep in student debt, renting in a high cost of living area, and working a dead-end job. So I don't really have the time or the savings to sink into this hobby. A few months ago, my grand got me the best telescope she could afford for my birth.

The fact she'd invest in a hobby of mine like that means so much to me, and I've been taken it out to Stargays as much as I can ever since. For the most part, it's been fun and exhilarating, and I've been learning a lot about the universe and our place in it. It's just so cool to drive out to the middle of nowhere and look up. Well, I guess I should say it was cool. Something happened a few weeks ago that's making me question reality. In short, I saw something strange, something I can't explain.

I'll get to that. First, for context. One of the things I really wanted to observe in 2019 was the first full moon of the year. It sounded like the title of a poorly translated anime, Super Blood Wolf Moon. It's pretty rare, so I wanted to do it justice by getting as far as I could from the glow of Denver and at several suburbs. I drove east, away from the Rockies, then south, towards desert and desolation. Somewhere between Raton and Maxwell, I pulled over. It was nearing night by this point.

The sun was just this slim, rust-red glow on the horizon that bled up to these light pinks and deep purples. And it was quiet, so quiet. No buzz of city sounds. No planes droning away in a holding pattern above D.I. only the constant ebb and flow of a slight breeze and the chirp of a few steadfast crickets. In the distance, a pack of coyotes yipped and yowled. I kept my ears on them, trying to determine how far they were from me. I wasn't scared.

Not really. Sure, I was alert and aware of my surroundings, but I wasn't scared. Ever since getting that telescope, I'd driven out to deserted and semi-deserted places alone dozens of times, and had come to recognize true danger from the false kind I invented in my head. It basically boiled down to trusting my gut. If my gut said go, I went. If it said get over it, I got over it. That night, my gut was saying all good, so for hours I watched the stars pop out against the dark sky, watched as they slid across it until they hit the light of the moon and disappeared, watched as the eclipse began. And for hours, nothing happened. At least,

nothing scary or strange or supernatural. Just me looking up watching the shadow of the earth sweep over the moon. Around 10 p.m., there was a siren sound from the road, and blue light swirled around me. The cops. Great. I dealt with copped before they'll start. I'd dealt with stargazing. Most of the time they were reasonable and let me off with a warning. Sometimes, though, there'd be an asshole whose night was made by ruining mine. I stepped away from my telescope and walked back towards the road, hands clear by my side. Two cops, a man and a woman in plain clothes with their badges and guns clear in sight, stepped out of an unmarked black SUV. They eyed me, obviously wary. So I waved, making sure both my hands were visible, silently cursing my luck

and the way their lights ruined my night vision. Car troubles? The woman shined her light in my face, then behind me towards the field. I had attached reflectors along the length of my telescope and knew she could see it winking in the beam of the flashlight. No, ma'am, just observing the full moon. I pointed up. She lowered her light. and smiled. A good sign. Oh, yeah. It's that one. What's it called? Super Blood Wolf Moon out tonight, right? That's right. Want to take a look? Her partner made a small noise, and the woman looked over at him, then up at the moon. Oh, what the hell? She stepped off the road towards my telescope,

stooping slightly to gaze through it. Whoa. It's kind of creepy. Hey, want to love? look? She glanced at her partner. Come on, it's cool. Her partner looked up at the sky like he was considering it. Sure. He stepped over and gazed through the telescope for longer than the woman had, but he seemed far less impressed when he pulled away. Spooky. The woman shot him a strange look before turning back to me. Shouldn't stay out here too late. I won't. Just waiting till totality hits. I'll head out after that. When is that? I pulled my phone out of my pocket and glanced at it.

I had no service, but the clock still worked. About 20 minutes from now. All right. Well, be careful. Coyote's in such, you know? Yep, I know. The woman nodded, then turned towards her partner. Come on, big guy, let's go. She walked back towards their SUV and stood waiting by the driver's side door for him.

The man hesitated, looking between me and his partner like he wanted to say something. Have a nice night, miss. I waved as the cops lit inside their SUV. They whooped their siren again, flashed their lights, and pulled off headed north. I watched them drive away for a few minutes before walking back towards my telescope. The light from the moon was slowly disappearing now, and the landscape around me was dark. I wasn't able to see much with my. night vision ruined. On a whim, I decided to walk farther into the field and stare at the sky

with my naked eyes. About 40 or 50 feet from my telescope on the road, I tripped and fell, hard, into the dirt. After a second of moaning in pain, I stood up and looked around, trying to figure out what I tripped over. I couldn't see in that darkness, so I pulled out a flashlight from my pocket and flicked it on. Almost immediately. I saw it. Despite the thick brush covering the field, it was hard to miss. A metal hatch. It was weird. I was out in the middle of nowhere, and there were no structures, at least none that I could see, anywhere around. The hatch was square with a tiny domed window near one side. It looked like it'd come off the side of a submarine or something, and it looked

old, like it'd been out in that field for years. The metal was rusting, dull in the dim moonlight. I backed away, sweeping my light around the field, trying to see if there were any indications that someone might be living nearby, like trash or footprints, but there was nothing. I was on edge and decided it was time to leave. I turned back towards the road, towards my car and safety, but I didn't get very far. They were all insistent, all loud, all coming from the hatch. I stared down at it, wondering if my fall had upset something inside. Maybe an animal had gotten trapped, or maybe it was some sort of alarm system.

I was scared now, sure, but I was all so curious. Curiosity won. I flicked my flashlight back onto the hatch. The tapping sound stopped. Hello? Is someone up there? A voice. A fucking voice.

Something moved in the small glass dome of the hatch, and I realized it was an eye, bloodshot and big and blue. I think I screamed. I know I started to run. Behind me, the voice called out again. It sounded odd, elongated and echoy,

like whoever was talking was standing. standing inside a water tank or maybe a bunker. I stopped, half turned, tried to hear over the sound of my own panicked breathing. Please, Joko, please! I took a step back towards it. What the hell is going on? Who are you? What is this?

Please, you have to let me out. Let me out, please! Please, I need to get out! The eye was still watching me. It blinked. Please. I couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman. If they were young or old, that's how distorted their voice was.

I only knew that it sounded human. Open the hat. I don't know. How do I... I was stuttering, scared, unable to think. I took a few steps towards the hatch and knelt next to it. The lock! What?

There's a lock on the side of the hatch. I stood up and walked around the perimeter of the hatch slowly, shining my light down at it. The eye squinted slightly in the beam. Sure enough, there was a padlock on one side of the hatch. It looked brand new. I bent down and jiggled it around a bit, not really expecting it to budge. There was nothing else I could do, not without help. the right tools. I pulled my phone out of my pocket just to check. Still no service. I swallowed.

I'm sorry. I can't open it. I need to go get help or something. I'll be back. I promise. I stood up to leave. I'm sorry. I have to go. I have to go get help. I'll be back. I swear. I swear. No, no, no. I stood up and backed away. not to hyperventilate. I'll be back, I promise. I promise. The cops. I half ran, half stumbled towards them.

It was the same cops as before. They were already out of their SUV and walking towards me. Both of them had flashlights this time, but they pointed them towards the ground, away from my face. Hey, thought we come watch the totality with you. Oh, that's... What's wrong?

What happened? There's a person. There's a person. Underground. In a hatch. They're trapped. The cops glanced at each other, then back at me. What do you mean?

I caught my breath. There's a weird metal hatch thing over there. I tripped over it. There's someone inside it. They're trapped. A metal hatch? He shined his light over towards the field. Yeah, you know, like something that'd be on a ship.

With one of those, those glass-domed window things. A porthole? A slight smile flashed onto his face, like he was amused. Yeah, yeah, yes, whatever. I don't care what it's called. There's someone out there in a fucking bunker or something. What the fuck are you guys doing still standing here?

I gestured at the field. My telescope was still there, about 10 feet from the road. The cops looked at the field. Then at each other, then back at me. The woman spoke this time. Miss, you had any illegal substances tonight. What? No! There's someone out there!

I'm in four! Come on, I'll show you! Miss? Miss! Stop! Okay? We're gonna need you to calm down. Take some breaths. Deep breaths. Good. Now, slower this time.

Repeat what you said. You saw something strange in the field? Yes, yes, this fucking metal hatch thing. Like a door to a bunker or a submarine or something. And there's someone inside it. A person! They were asking me to help them. They need help.

There was a padlock on one side of it. It looked new. The cops glanced at each other. They looked totally unfazed. You want to check it out? I got the last one. The woman scowled at him, then sighed. Yeah, sure.

You'll be here. This time, he did smile. Always. The woman rolled her eyes towards the sky before turning back to me. I looked between them, unable to figure out what the hell was going on. Why were they acting so nonchalant? What did the man mean by this one? Had this happened before?

Or was he just referring to them checking out weird shit in general? I didn't know. I still don't know. Miss, my partner will wait here with you, okay? I'll go check it out. Can you point me in the general direction of what you saw? I... Yeah.

Yes, I can. It was like 40, 50 feet north of my telescope in the brush. It's sticking out a few inches from the ground. It's hard to miss. All right. The woman shined her light in that direction. Then, without another word, she started walking towards the way I pointed, sweeping her light in smooth, consistent arcs across the ground.

When she got about 50 feet from my telescope, she stopped and knelt down. Did you find it? No, there's nothing out here. In the dim moonlight, I could see her stand up and kick the ground with her boot. What? I looked at the man who looked back at me. He was leaning against the SUV with his arms crossed. His face was completely impassive.

She said there's nothing out there. What do you mean there's nothing out there? I'll show you. I took off towards the direction of the woman. In retrospect, I realize how stupid this was. Both cops were armed, and I was acting erratic, irrational. The man immediately took off after me, and I could hear him crashing through the brush as I ran over to where the hatch was. He was repeatedly calling to me, trying to get me to stop or slow down.

I did neither. The woman's left hand hovered near her pistol as I approached. Stop! I ignored her and kept. going. Stupid, I know, but I couldn't believe that there was nothing there. I wanted to show her she was wrong, that the person in the hatch, whoever they were, needed our help. It didn't occur to me to question why that person wasn't making any noises now or calling out for help. The woman sighed and shined her flashlight back at the ground, helping me look. But the hatch, it wasn't there.

It was like some badly written urban legend, the vanishing hatch. I could clearly see the imprint of my ass in the mucky dirt. Proof I'd tripped over something. But the hatch was gone, vanished. It was impossible. It was... It was right here. I knelt down and brushed out the dirt with my hands.

Look, you can see that I fell. Right there. I tripped over the hatch and fell. Where the fuck is it? It has to be here. Miss, I don't know what you're trying to pull here, but you got about three seconds to explain yourself. You don't believe me?

Believe what? That there's someone locked away out here, underground, in the middle of nowhere. You probably just fell asleep, had a bad dream. That, or you lied to us. Lied? Yeah, about the illegal substances. I looked at her, then at her partner.

He was standing next to me, hands in his pockets, looking up at the sky like he really didn't want to be there, like he didn't give a shit. Seriously? No! I don't do drugs! I don't even drink for fuck's sake! She raised her eyebrows, and I took a deep breath.

Look, I know what. what I heard. I know what I saw. There was something, some one, out here. A metal hatch with a lock on the side of it. It has to be around here somewhere. We should keep looking. Hey, I'm not going to tell you again. Her partner cleared his throat loudly, cutting her off. I think we should all just calm down, okay? Look, miss, clearly you think, clearly you think something is going on. Whether you fell asleep or were doing something you, uh, shouldn't be doing, you heard or saw or dreamt up something that spooked you. I opened my mouth to protest, but he held up his hand and continued. Here's the thing. I'm not really in the mood for this tonight,

so we're going to let you off this time, okay? Let's just pretend this never happened. Go home, get some rest. Clearly you need it. His partner shot him a look. I can't. can only describe as pure hatred, then looked at me. You got lucky this time. All right, come on, let's get out of here. But... Look, we have shit to do. Places to be, peace to keep.

Either you take my offer and leave, or my partner here can slap some cuffs on you. You wouldn't mind taking the time to do that, would you? The woman smirked. Oh, it'd be my pleasure. So, what's it going to be? I'll go. Great. Sorry you had to miss your totality.

I glanced at him, confused. It was such a strange thing to say. We going or what? The man helped me pack up my telescope and loaded into my truck. He apologized again, told me to get home safe. Both cops stood outside their SUV, watching as I drove away. I'm back home now. safe, secure, snowed in.

But I can't stop thinking about what happened. I have so many questions. I know what I saw, and I know I'm not crazy. I just don't know what happened. There has to be some sort of explanation. I know this isn't the best idea, but I'm going to drive back out there when all this snow melts. I just want to know what happened.

I need to know. We all know magic is simply illusion and misdirection. Nobody really gets sawn in half or made to disappear. But as author Edwin Crow explains, an amateur magician soon learns some magic can pose a genuine, sinister threat. Performing this tale are David Alt, James Cleveland, Jeff Clement, and Dan Zapula. It will soon become clear that you might be in danger

if you believe there is no such thing as real magic. An amateur magician. I've performed at children's parties and done some touring. I wouldn't class myself as an expert, but I am in the magic circle. I love to see professional magicians perform. There is nothing better than when you see a trick and you have no idea.

how it was done. I read a forum post a month ago that had a link to a YouTube video. Ten times magic went wrong. I checked it out, and as you can imagine, the contents were quite horrific. Two of the clips were of the nail under the cups trick. If you're from England, you may have seen Darren Brown performing this. It's a good one if the magician is qualified. If they aren't, then you end up being at...

positions seven and three of this video. It works like this. A magician mixes up some cups. Under one is a piece of wood with a nail pointed up. The others are weighted so they all feel the same. The magician puts on a blindfold and gets their volunteer to guide them over the top of the cups. The magician then pushes the volunteers hand down, crushing the cup. It's usually when there are two left, that this trick goes wrong, and when it does, it's very bloody. The clip that sparked the debate on the forum is of a man soaring a woman in half. We've all seen this, but in the grainy footage, the woman screams, the boxes brought apart, blood drips from the opening, and the legs of the woman slip out.

The bloody bottom half slams on the floor with a thunk, the legs spasm, then stop. The curtains are hastily brought across and the show ends. There were comments after the video, people calling bullshit, until someone posted the full trick in question. At the end of this video, the woman can be seen on stage, whole again, nothing wrong with her at all. People argued with each other that the woman must have been in the upper box and the lower box contained some prosthetics.

The thread ends with someone saying that they swear it's real and they've seen it in person. I commented. I'm skeptical. Magic is illusion. No one gets sawn in half. Incredible footage, though. The next day, I got a direct message

from someone with the handle tricked for life. Hey, Baz, 1987. The man from that video is performing next month. He's called the Russian. It's invite only. I can arrange tickets if you like. Totally.

I'd be up for you. for that, please. While waiting to hear back, I went to watch the video again. The link didn't work. A message came up saying it had been taken down due to copyright infringement. I tried the top 10 one again too. That one was also gone leaving just a 404 page. It was a Saturday, so I was already on the whiskey watching some TV. Tricked for Life replied with a link. I browsed to the site. It looked like something from 1997. There was a still from the video and a form below. Slightly drunk, I filled out the details and continued to the payment form.

I had to pay in Bitcoin. What the fuck was that? I messaged Tricked for life. I don't know what Bitcoin is. PayPal me the money and I can buy it for you. How do I know this isn't a scam? You don't. But as a magician, you should see through a trick a mile off.

It sounded like he was baiting me. How much? £540 pounds. Christ, that's heavy. It's worth it, though. Have you seen him before? No, this will be my first time. I know some people who are going.

They said he's incredible. You have to see it for yourself. I left the computer and continued watching TV, though I couldn't concentrate. I really wanted to know how the trick was done. I drank more whiskey and got more drunk. I woke in the early hours. Confused, I took in my surroundings and realised I fell asleep in front of the television again.

My head pounded, so I went to the kitchen and drank some orange juice before throwing the best hangover cure, bacon, into the frying pan. As the meat sizzled, I checked my phone. I had an email with the subject, ticket confirmation. My heart sank as I remembered what drunk me had committed to. I opened the email to see a confirmation number and an address in the Ukraine. Not only was I out £540,000, I'd need to book plane tickets and a hotel. I gazed at the whiskey bottle and saw it was almost empty, not even as much as a shop left.

I felt embarrassed. I logged into the forum and read the messages I had sent. Fuck it was the first. The second included my details, and the third said I'd PayPal the money over, followed by a reply from Tricked for Life, saying to buy a tuxedo if I didn't have one. I had to beg my manager to give me the time off at the last minute

and ended up agreeing to perform at his daughter's birthday. I was surprised and relieved with how cheap plane fare was to the Ukraine, I rented a tux from a local business and I was ready to go. The flight was bumpy. We flew through a thunderstorm and for the first time in my life, I saw the lightning hit the tip of the plane. People startled and children cried, I was nervous myself. It wasn't long after the Russians had shot down a passenger jet over the Ukraine.

I was very happy when we landed. I sat in silence in the taxi to the hotel. When I got out, I saw it was a dump. I asked the driver to wait and he nodded. I had no idea if he understood me or not. Three stars was supposed to be the rating, but it looked more like an abandoned office building than a hotel. I checked in and changed.

I was glad I was only staying for the night. My rushed plans meant I didn't have more than a few hours until the show started. Thankfully, the taxi was still outside, when I returned, I handed the driver the printout of the address, and we drove off into the night. It was an odd city, nothing like the London that I'd known all my life. It was as if it wasn't planned, like it just sprawled in every direction when more buildings were required. We stopped at the end of an alleyway. The taxi driver pointed down it. Are you sure? I had expected us to be somewhere posh, but the

A man finally broke his silence and affirmed that this was the address I had given him. I got out. The taxi sped off as if the driver was in a hurry to leave the area. Suddenly I was all alone, in a foreign country I knew nothing about. The rain poured down and soaked through my tucks. The woolen material grew heavy with the water. I wondered if I'd get my deposit back. I jogged down the alleyway.

light leaked out from a door underneath a fire escape. I thumped on the frame and waited. A man wearing paint-splattered jeans and a body-warmer stood there expectantly. I handed him the printout. I'm sorry, I don't know where I'm going. I'm looking for this. I'm supposed to see some Russian magician. He lifted his chin and opened the door wider.

I was glad to get out of the rain. Inside had the appearance of a factory service corridor. Huh, Russia, sure. Through there. The man pointed to the end of the hallway. Visions of me entering some basement out of the film Hostel filled my mind, and I wanted to turn back and go straight to the airport. I took a deep breath and walked forward.

My shoes echoed around the small passageway, and I felt vulnerable. I pushed on the metal bar at the end and hoped for the best. I was shocked. It wasn't as I expected. The room was cavernous. It looked like a palace.

Large marble columns rose up from the floor and held in place an ornate ceiling from which hung intricate chandeliers. Dozens of men in suits all deep in conversation drank from champagne glasses. No one turned to stare at me. It was as if there was nothing odd about me entering via a back door.

For a magic show, I found it kind of fitting. Standing there, though, I wasn't sure if I felt more out of place here or in the alleyway. A waiter approached and offered me champagne, and I nearly panicked. I was surprised that he was speaking English, as many of the guests seemed also to be. I took the crystal flute and resisted the earth. I urged to down it in one. I sipped and tried to blend in. The show will start in 30 minutes. Another waiter offered me some canopades.

I grabbed one and was thanking him when I heard someone shout my forum handle. Baz? I peered around and locked eyes with a man I didn't recognize. He offered his hand. Do I know you? I'm Dan. I'm sorry. I don't recall. recall.

Tricked for life? I ordered your ticket. How did you recognize me? Your avatar, man. Good to meet you in person. I wasn't sure if you'd come. 540 pounds. I wasn't going to stay at home. Are you excited? I've seen some famous magicians around. Oh shit. Zoltan Carnivosh. Hell yeah. Nigel K. Ford and Smith Crix are here too. That's crazy.

This is the real deal, then? I think so. What's our guy's real name? The Russian? I don't know. No one does. That's a bit ominous. He's the best of the best. Who cares what he's called? Hey, we should go take our seats. The house lights went down. A spotlight lit the red velvet curtains.

They waited for the crowd to die down before they open. Good evening. Ladies and gentlemen, purveyors of magic and mystery, welcome. Welcome to my show. As many of you know, I'm not one for theatrics, so let's get straight down to business, shall we? My first reaction to seeing the Russian on stage was disappointment. His hair was grey, not black like the video. He was so much smaller in stature than he had appeared online.

too. And not unreasonably, I thought, I'd expected him to have a Russian accent. This guy sounded like he'd been born and raised in Toronto. Before I could dwell too much on this, the Russian's assistants wheeled in a large, tall box. The magician led one of the assistants inside and proceeded to lock the padlocks on the front. He counted down from three, and on the beat after one, fireworks exploded at the front of the stage, and the walls of the box collapsed in on themselves. He approached and spun the box around, showing it was now flat. The remaining assistants rolled it off stage. That's easy. Fireworks, textbook misdirection and trapdoor underneath.

Dan smiled. Medieval wooden stocks were then brought onto the stage. The magician asked for a volunteer from the audience. A young lady, the other woman. only female in the whole crowd stood up and was invited on stage. The magician mimed claps and the audience obliged. The woman was secured into place. Eggs were handed to the crowd and the woman was offered as a target.

Most missed, except the last that hit her square in the face. An assistant arrived with a melon. The Russian picked up a sword, its blade flashing, in the bright spotlight. He lifted it overhead and brought it down, slicing the melon in two with ease. He approached the woman in the stocks, and with one swift blow,

her hands and head fell into the baskets below. To be honest, I was vexed. There was no sudden flash of light to hide the switch of body parts with fakes, but no blood either. She was obviously a stooge. Are there any other women in the crowd? More helpers joined on stage,

mopping the floor as if to clean up blood that wasn't there. The final illusion was the classic Chinese water torture cell made famous by Harry Houdini. A large tank of water sat center stage. The Russian took off his clothes to reveal a turn of the 19th century bathing suit, a beige number that covered his body and upper legs. He put on a nose clip and rubbed his hands in anticipation. The Russian ascended the ladder attached to the tank and jumped in.

Water splashed over the sides and an iron lid was slammed into place. Padlocks were locked around the top and the curtain was drawn in front. A man started a stopwatch and gazed at it in earnest. Time passed. I checked my watch. He'd been in there for 90 seconds. The curtain was pulled back. to reveal his hand poking out the top, trying to pick the locks on the outside.

Then, with a swish, it was replaced. Another minute passed, and banging could be heard from within. The man with the stopwatch brought his hand across his throat, signaling to end the performance. Someone ran on stage with an axe, and the curtain was pulled away. The locks were still in place, but the tank was empty. The audience got. I turned to see the Russian in the stalls above, dripping with water.

How did he do that, then, Mr. Smart Guy? I have no idea. I was clapping without even thinking about it. The house lights went up. There will be a ten-minute intermission before the second part of the show. We'll guests with tickets 1587, 127, 121, 1.21, 1. 122, 263, 275, 276, and 389. Please make their way to the door at the side of the stage.

That's me. Me too. Are you excited? I don't understand. He grinned and grabbed my hand, leading me along the row. What's going on? Didn't you wonder why it was so expensive? We're part of the show.

What? No. Come on. You're a magician. Don't you want to know how it's done? Yeah, but I don't want to be on stage. You've done that before, though, right? Of course, but mostly in front of children, at most 50 people. Not in a theatre of over 400, containing some of the most respected magicians in the world.

Too bad. You're going. We waited at the back of the line of eight people. A man checked tickets and one by one. One, they were led backstage. Dan passed his ticket over, releasing his grasp on my arm. I thought about leaving, but before I could, the man asked for mine. It was quiet backstage. Then I saw a familiar face approaching.

Is that Branton Holloway? Oh, God, he's coming over to us. Hey, I'm... I know who you are. You boys excited? Very. Bass here is a little nerve. Oh, don't be nervous. This is what we're all here for, right?

I have no idea what's going on. Don't listen to him. He's just scared. Oh, and you should be. It's not very often that you're in the presence of a real magician. What do you mean? You know, someone who performs real magic. There's no such thing as real magic. Is this guy for real? Holloway pointed his thumb at me.

Dan shrugged his shoulders. Then why are you here? I wanted to see it for myself. And that you will, son. Be part of it. I don't think I want to. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. It's what we all dream of. It's time.

Holloway found his place in line behind the queue that had now formed. I don't know about this, Dan. It'll be fine, I promise. I watched as the first of us was taken on stage. A round of applause, then silence. A minute or so passed. The hell was that? Then the next person was taken, and then the next.

With each one a silent moment passed, the end of the trick punctuated by a scream. That man has blood on him. I stared at the stage hand as he exited stage right. Blood flecked his shirt and face. Dan slapped my back. It's all part of the fun. My stomach lurched as one by one the line got shorter until it was Holloway's turn to be led on stage.

Wish me luck. The stage hand was now drenched in blood, but it didn't seem to bother, Dan. We have a special guest tonight. Please welcome Branton Holloway. We were almost at the top of the stairs now. As Dan watched the performance, his face lit up with pure joy before he grimaced and looked away. What's happening? Holy shit. It was intense. I'm not sure I can do this.

But it was too late. The stage hand had already grabbed him and dragged him up. I ascended the last few steps and could now see the wooden floor. I gasped as Dan walked through the pooled blood. His shoes left yorily. stinking stalagmites in the congealing liquid. A horizontal box was opened and he was placed inside. From my angle it was obvious there was no one placed in the leg side. I watched his feet poke through the holes at the end and the box closed on top of him.

The Russian picked up a chainsaw and pulled the cord into action. Blue-gray smoke billowed out of the side as he revved the engine. Without a second thought, he brought it down through the box, Dan's face who torted in agony. The magician ignored him. Blood sprayed out, covering him and launching a mist of bright red liquid onto the crowd who cheered in response. The chainsaw idle. The assistants pulled the box apart, and just like the video, Dan's legs fell. out of the other end. It was then I noticed the box had been purposefully sloped

to allow this to happen. That was the trick. I felt sick and ran. There was nowhere to go. A large man stood at the door I had entered. Luckily, he hadn't noticed, I panicked. I slowed to a walk and took the stairs down into the basement.

I paused at the door. at the bottom which I assumed was the fire exit. I tried to turn the knob, but it didn't budge. I could hear voices on the other side. I placed my ear against the metal flinching at the cold. It was a chant. Low, tenor voices repeated the same line again and again in a language I didn't understand.

They switched into a more sing-song chorus, then returned to the original verse. Mr. You can't be down here. It was the large man from before. I obeyed him without a struggle as he led me back into the theatre. The crowd didn't acknowledge me. Waiters patiently walked through the punters, offering more champagne and canopets. I was rapidly losing my call.

Without thinking, I began screaming at the crowd. He's killing them. All of them, they're dead. Holloway is dead. Everyone's dead. I saw it. It's not a trick. The audience was now silently staring at me. One of the waiters approached me cautiously, holding his hand up for me to stop. I won't be quiet. There's a fucking slaughterhouse up there. Didn't you all see?

Bulls started to panic. I raced for the exit. The doors were camouflage from this side. I ran my hand down the scene trying to find a hidden latch. Calm down, sir. I turned to see the large security. Fuck that. That man is insane. Let me out of here. He grabbed my arm, stopping me from leaving. The house lights went down again, and the audience settled. Please show your appreciation to your magician tonight and his wonderful volunteers.

The man held me tightly. I gave up trying to leave and gazed at the stage. The Russian appeared front and center, bowing. His assistants from the night joined him. Everyone clapped. Then, one by one, the people who were in the line ahead of me walked on stage, wearing Christine white suits. Holloway waved as he walked on as the audience cheer. The last to enter was down.

I was shocked. The crowd stood and clapped. Let's not forget our friend at the back there. The Russian raised his arm in my direction as the spotlight traveled over the audience, stopping on me. I froze. The security guard let go of me and joined in the clapping. I ran my hand through my hair and feigned a smile. I hope to see you all again soon.

The Russian bowed one last time and the house lights came up. Instantly murmurs broke out around the theatre. The waiter gave me a knowing smile and a wink before he disappeared back into the crowd. Someone congratulated me on a great job for really helping to sell the finish. Thank you. Everyone wanted to shake my hand, but all I could do was stand in confusion and unexpected all. The last of the people left, and so did I. As I entered the large hall, I saw Dan.

He held a cardboard box under his arm, grinning from ear, to ear. Branton Holloway was standing next to him. Great job you did. What the fuck just happened? I'm sorry. I admit it. I didn't think it would work, but your friend Dan here said it would and I trusted him. Is anyone going to fill me in on what happened? They needed someone to cause a fuss, you know, to make it seem all the more real. Dude, I saw you get chopped in half. What did you expect me to do? It was really great. I thought you were dead. Really sorry, man.

It was a shitty thing to do. If we told you, though, it wouldn't have looked believable. The Russian doesn't like to use shills. What about the woman in the stocks? That was only the warm-up. Hey, check this out. Dan opened the box and revealed his tucks. It was ripped to shreds.

Glad I didn't rent. It was great to meet you. Here's my card. If you ever want to see me perform, let me know. I'll get you backstage passes. You're not going to try and kill me, too. I'll see you around. He left through the back door, and we followed a minute later.

A row of limos waited to pick up people as they left. You go first. Aren't you coming? No, I'll get the next one. I told the driver where I was going and left the whole awful night behind me. I slept badly in the hotel, my dreams filled with corrupted visions of the night before. I flew back to England in the morning. I stayed away from that forum for a while, but curiosity eventually got the better of me.

There was a post about Branton Holloway saying he'd cancelled his tour. I read the comments. They were filled with the expected bile of people who were pissed on, off that their favorite magician had flaked out on them. There was also a direct message. I clicked. It was from Tricked for Life, containing a single photo. I studied it with horror, then replied Dadan. That was 48 hours ago, and I've not heard back. I don't think I'm ever going to, nor do I think I'll ever be able to take Holloway up on his offer for backstage passes. Maybe there is such a thing as real magic, but I never want to see it again. The photo appeared to be of someone's torso.

A purple pink bruise ran horizontally along its stomach, and blood seemed to leak as if it were some sort of wound. Underneath the photo was a single comment from my friend. I think the magic is wearing off. 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-sleep podcast.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. Copyright 2018-2020 by Creative Reason Media, Inc. All blessed rights reserved. The copyrights for each story are held by the respective authors. No duplication or reproduction of this audio program is permitted without the written consent of Creative Reason Media.