The NoSleep Podcast - NoSleep Podcast S13E10

Episode Date: August 25, 2019

It's episode 10 of Season 13. On this week's show we have tales about the dark forces which surround us.   "Mama’s Girl" written by Paul DesCombaz (Story starts around 00:05:45) Produced by: Phil Michalski TRIGGER WARNING! Cast: Lily Anne – Nichole Goodnight, Mama – Sarah Thomas, Mr. Hobbs – Mike DelGaudio "Shower Thoughts" written by Ryan Carter (Story starts around 00:24:30) Produced by: David Cummings Cast: Narrator – David Cummings, David – Kyle Akers "Search" written by M.J. Orz (Story starts around 00:43:00) Produced by: Phil Michalski TRIGGER WARNING! Cast: Mark – Mike DelGaudio, Caroline – Nichole Goodnight, Abby – Erika Sanderson, Officer Brown – Mick Wingert "The Peddler" written by Aramynta Borga (Story starts around 01:08:10) Produced by: Jesse Cornett TRIGGER WARNING! Cast: Chris – David Ault, Jerry – Andy Cresswell, Bella – Penny Scott-Andrews, Unnamed Copper – James Cleveland, Mary Harris – Erika Sanderson "All Black" written by Lucas Colianni (Story starts around 01:49:00) Produced by: Phil Michalski Cast: Oz – Atticus Jackson, Daniel – Dan Zappulla, Christine – Jessica McEvoy Click here to learn more about the voice actors on The NoSleep Podcast   Click here to learn more about "The Hotel" podcast.   Click here to learn more about M.J. Orz   Click here to learn more about Ryan Carter   Executive Producer & Host: David Cummings Musical score composed by: Brandon Boone "The Peddler" illustration courtesy of Jen Tracy 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

And that's when I realized the call was coming from inside the house. Cut. Hold on. Oh, it's wrong, David. It's this story. It's so cliched. The call from inside the house, it's been done before. And it's so unrealistic.

How so? Well, the house is outside the city, right? Out in the country? Are we supposed to believe the killer has a cell signal out there? That's not so unrealistic. I use Mint Mobile. And the story says the killer recently. escaped from prison, robbed a gas station, and got away with less than $20. How can he afford a

cell phone with such little money? I pay a ton for my phone service, and I sure as heck can't get a good signal outside the city. I bet the writer had the killer sign up with Mint Mobile. Mint Mobile makes it easy to cut your wireless bill down to just 15 bucks a month. Come on. Really? Absolutely. Listen, if you're still using one of the big wireless providers in 2019, have you asked yourself what you're paying for? Between expensive retail stores, inflated prices, and hidden fees, you're being taken advantage of because they know you'll pay. Enter Mint Mobile. Mint Mobile provides the same premium network coverage we're used to, but at a fraction of the cost because everything is online. Mint Mobile saves on retail locations and overhead and then passes those savings directly to you.

Well, okay, but I get unlimited data on my plan. Granted, I never use more than a few gigs each month, but you know how it is. With Mint Mobile, Stop paying for unlimited data you'll never use. Choose between plans with 3, 8, or 12 gigabytes of 4GLTE data. And every plan comes with unlimited nationwide talk and text. It seems like a hassle to have to get a new phone and phone number. No, you use your own phone with any Mint Mobile plan and keep your same phone number along with all your existing contacts. Come on, David.

Ditch your old wireless bill and start saving with Mint Mobile. I switch to Mint Mobile and honestly, I have better service than I've ever had, at a better cost that I've ever had. That's a win-win. Go to mintmobile.com slash no sleep to get your plan shipped to your door for free. Okay, you're right. Mint Mobile is a great solution

for reducing my monthly phone bill. And I guess maybe the story is realistic if he's using Mint Mobile. Okay, let's keep recording. It's after midnight already. You make us work too late, David. I'm tired. Hello?

Who is it, Nicole? It's a creepy guy's voice. He says he's going to get us. He says he's here. The call is coming from inside the studio. That's not in the script, Nicole. David, look out behind you. Remember to get your new wireless plan for just $15 a month

and get the plan shipped to your door for free, go to M-I-N-T-Mobile.com slash no-sleep. Cut your wireless bill down to $15 bucks a month at mintmobile.com slash no sleep. We're doing this. our own risk. Ready? Ready for the dark tales when we dare not close our eyes.

Brace yourself for the No Sleep Podcast. Welcome to the No Sleep Podcast video store. I'm David Cummings. Our VCR is ready to play stories about the dark forces which surround us. I'd like to make you aware of a horror podcast which many of you will enjoy. The creators of Theodore present a micro-horror podcast, The Hotel. Check in at the front desk with the manager.

Let the lobby boy take your bags. And if you're very lucky, you won't meet the owner or the dark being he reports to. Listen each week as the hotel takes on a different shape and the guests are killed in fantastic and horrific ways. Season two releases throughout September, as the hotel takes the form of the worst Airbnb imaginable. There's worse than just ghosts in these rooms.

Our very own Graham Rowett stars alongside Mark Witten, Kelly Ninaltowski, and Krista Lewis. Weekly Horror with no checkout times. You can find a link in the show notes, so make sure your summer vacations include a stay at the hotel. But before you check into the hotel, we have stories now to bring right to your room. How's that for service? So turn down the lights and grab the remote because it's time for our feature presentation. In our first tale,

we meet a young girl who regularly helps her mom out with her daily tasks. This isn't any standard take your daughter to work initiative though. Mom's job is a little unconventional. According to her, she's been tasked by God to rid the world of monsters that hide inside of men. In this tale, shared with us by author Paul de Cumber, we find out the true nature of these monsters. Performing this tale are Nicole Goodnight, Sarah Thomas, and Mike Delgado. So it's off to work we go with a strange crusader and her mama's girl. And I parked behind a bar called The Shortstop. Waiting in the dark under the buzzing sign, We watched a wobbly-legged man come stumbling out across the parking lot.

Is he a monster? Nope. The one I want is still inside. Mama picked at her hair, making it big and beautiful. I crouched down behind the dumpster that smelled like greasy chicken, cigarettes, and mayonnaise. My back hurt, so I reached back and scratched where it burned. On the other side of the dumpster, our clunky Fairmont rumbled next to a gross pyramid of shimmery black trash bag. A new man came out of the bar whistling. I couldn't see him yet.

Mama did the sign of the crossover her heart. Don't you move until I say it's okay to come out. You hear? Yes, Mama. About three weeks ago, Mama pulled me out of the third grade in a panic. She said God told her that some people have a monster squirming around inside their body, hiding in between the guts, waiting to hurt regular people, and that we were going on a mission to save their souls from eternity.

eternal damnation. One night, after we saved an old woman behind an all-night supermarket, I asked her if I had a monster growing inside of me too. She grabbed my arm and squeezed it hard. Yes, Lillian, I can smell it growing inside you. That's when my back started hurting. Mama applied a smear of red lipstick. She had a way about her that made men get stupid. I had never seen one yet who wouldn't follow her wherever she wanted to go. A scary forest grew up past the chain-link fence bordering the parking lot. The trees creaked back and forth like slow wagging fingers. I hugged my knees closer to my chest.

Be fast. But what I thought was, please don't come back. Mama disappeared around the corner, already sweet-talking the man. I sat there listening to her be flirty, wishing I could run away. Clouds of bugs danced crazy circles in the Fairmont's headlights. If I was quick enough, maybe I could have climbed over that fence and dashed off between the creaky trees. Then there would be no more cutting. No more mission, no more dead people. It's just right over here, hon.

Mama's long, spiky heels clicked on the pavement. I would watch what happened, right up until I couldn't stand it anymore. Mama rounded the corner. The man laughed at something Mama said. His voice sounded familiar. I poked my head out from behind the dumpster and snuck a closer look at his face. He had a big toothy smile, curly black hair, and shiny belt buckle in the shape of a ram's horns. My stomach heaved like I'd swallowed bitter medicine.

I knew the man. Mr. Hobbs, my second grade teacher from the year before. Mr. Hobbs, who always gave our class an extra snack after recess, even if we hadn't earned one. My mouth went dry and my fingers got all tingly. I shuffled back behind the dumpster, covered my ears, squeezed my eyes shut, and made myself as small as I could get. I wanted to disappear. Mama slithered an arm around Mr. Hobbs' waist. The spares right there in the trunk, sweetie.

How could Mr. Hobbs have a monster inside his body? He wasn't even evil. He would never hurt anyone. I even saw him save a spider. once, picked it up with a piece of yellow construction paper, and put it outside of the classroom. He told the class that the little spider had one life just like the rest of us, and that it was a sin to kill it for no good reason. Ah, well, it's, uh, it's no problem at all, ma'am. But the words came out all blurry and slushy, and he wobbled. He hadn't recognized Mama either.

The two of them walked back to the car, Mama hanging on him like they were grubble. glued together. And then, easy as you please, she slipped away, leaving Mr. Hobbs swaying back and forth, head inside the hungry mouth of the trunk. I thought about that hammer waiting on the other side of the car, hidden behind the rear tire. I didn't want to see what came next because the wet thunking sound made me think of smashing watermelons. I used to like watermelons. I clutched my eyes even tighter and waited for the thunk. Except I couldn't keep my own. eyes shut, not for Mr. Hobbs. Before I knew what I was doing, I jumped out from behind the dumpster. No, Mama! Mama still looked in the shadows on the other side of the car, but Mr. Hobbs saw me.

At first he seemed confused, but then he smiled. Lillian? What on God's earth are you doing here? I started to say something to warn him, but by then Mama had the hammer raised up behind his head, and I ended up shutting my eyes after all. I wriggled loose of the snug seat belt and pushed my head back between the seats to see if I could still hear Mr. Hobbs struggling in the trunk, but all I heard was the rumble of the road and the whoosh of the desert whipping by. I wanted to tell Mr. Hobbs that everything was going to be okay,

even though I knew it wasn't. I twisted back around. Mama, how come I've never actually seen one of the monsters? It was true. When it came time for Mama to save the people from the creatures living inside their bodies, she sent me away to hide someplace where I couldn't see her cut them out. Mama stared straight ahead, bug-eyed, chewing the inside of her cheek. She scared me, and I knew I had to be careful, choose the right words.

That part isn't for children. Don't worry, Mama will keep you safe. I won't let it happen to you. I'll think of something. I stretched all the way forward so I could see over the dashboard. The Fairmont's headlights only went so far, and then there was nothing but the deep, dark desert all around. Another thud came from the trunk, and I flinched.

I don't want to hurt Mr. Hobbs. I've told you before, Lily Ann. I do my part. God cleans up after I'm done. Will God help Mr. Hobbs? Quiet now. Let me drive. After a bit, Mama pulled off.

the road. Pebbles and Grit spit up behind the Fairmont. She skidded to a dusty stop and a clearing. Stay put. You interfere with me again. There will be hell to pay. She slammed her door. When she popped the trunk, the hinges squealed. Mr. Hobbs started begging for his life right away. Lillianne. Lillian, please, please help me. Quiet down. Mama pulled him flapping and whimpering from the trunk. Usually, I listen to Mama, but hearing Mr. Hobbs beg like that, I just couldn't. Even if I got the worst whipping of my life, I pushed the heavy door open with my foot. Lillian, what did I just say? You'll stay in that damn car girl if you know what's good for you. A trail of shiny black blood painted the ground behind Mr. Hobbs as Mama dragged him by his cowboy boots to the front of the Fairmont's headlights so she could get to work.

She dropped him and his legs hit the ground with a meaty thud. Then she knelt and rolled him over on his back. His head rolled and leaked stuff that looked like strawberry jam. Mama, you have to stop. I made myself as big as I could. I heard once that was what you were supposed to do if you ran into a bear in the woods. It was meant to frighten them off. Mama scared me way worse than any bear ever could.

Mr. Hobbs twisted his neck all around in the dirt. His eyes rolled back, white and glassy. Lillian? Mama pulled her K-A bar from her jacket. The blade flashed in the headlights. Go back to the car. Now! She pointed at me with the knife.

My whole body clinched, but I didn't go back into the car. I remembered in school, Mr. Hauptus to keep a picture of his daughter wearing a pony sweater on his desk. I imagined her waiting for him at home. Can we take him to a hospital? Well, maybe the doctors can take the monster out. That's not how this works, Lillian. Mama ripped open Mr. Hobbs' western shirt.

The pearl buttons jumped up like popcorn. She put the point of the blade right at the soft spot between his ribs. Please, Mama, just as once, can we leave him be? She shook her head. Sweat dripped off her nose and splattered on Mr. Hobbs' pale chest. She did another sign at the cross, mumbled a prayer, then jabbed the blade through his flesh, pressing deep. I screamed. My throat burned with vile.

Mr. Hobbs swiped at Mama, but she just pushed his weak hands away and continued, selling back and forth with the serrated edge. I covered my ears, trying to block out the ugly sounds. Grunting, Mama worked the blade slitting him to his waist. Blood burbled over his sides like chocolate syrup, down a Sunday. Mr. Hobbs choked up pink foam, and then he stopped moving at all. I ran to the back of the Fairmont, climbed up the slippery chrome bumper, and reached down into the deep trunk until I found the sticky hammer. Some curly hairs hung off the claw.

Mama left Mr. Hobbs leaking in the dirt and rushed over grabbing me as I rounded the taillight. She shook me by the shoulder so hard I dropped the hammer and bit my tongue. I tasted salty pennies. What are you doing? Her bottom lip trembled. She held me so tight I couldn't move. Going against Mama made me feel scared and sick in the pit of my stomach, but kind of strong, too. Mr. Hobbs doesn't have a monster inside him.

I don't think anybody does. She slapped me across the face. Tears blurred up my vision. My cheek felt hot and electric like a sunburn. She dug her nails into my arm right through the skin. You're a liar. You hurt all those people. Mama stared straight through like I was a ghost. I'm not lying, Lillian.

She grabbed the hammer from where it landed in the dirt and forced it into my hands, wrapping her fingers around mine. She pointed the hammer at Mr. Hobbs. That man isn't your teacher. Not anymore. I tried to rip my hands free, pulling and squirming, but she didn't bulge. She touched our sweaty foreheads together. You want to see? Okay, I'll let you see.

She whipped me back around. Watch. Right then, Mr. Hobb started to shake, plopping around like a walleye on a dock. He opened his mouth real wide. With one hand rubbed around my right side, keeping the hammer in my grip, Mama used your free hand to grab me by the hair.

She pushed me towards Mr. Hobb's squirming body. I twisted, grinding my feet in the dirt. Wait, Mama, I believe you. She yanked on my scalp. I yelped like a chihuahua and shut up right quick. We stopped a few feet in front of Mr. Hobbs, and Mama pushed me down on the top of my head, forcing me to my knees. Don't you dare close your eyes.

Mr. Hobbs' stomach bubbled. The knife slit puckered. Something shifted from inside him. It smelled worse than the garbage. Then a shape poked through the slit. I screamed again and Mama shook me. Quiet! She had my hair by the roots and wouldn't let go no matter how much I cried.

We squeezed the sweaty hammer together. It felt so heavy in my hand. Watch! Here it comes! I wanted to close my eyes tight like I always did when it got to be more than I could handle, but I couldn't make them shut. Smoke rose from his open chest, a skinny arm, as a skinny arm, white and slimy as a peeled hard-boiled egg, reached up out of Mr. Hobb's belly, and clutched at the empty air with long spidery fingers. My own chest felt like a hornet's nest that had been poked with a

broom handle. I thrashed against Mama. You see, Lillian, I don't know where they come from. I just have to stop as many as I can from getting through. Another hand followed the other and grabbed a fistful of rubbery belly skin. The air stink like an outhouse and morning breath and things I couldn't name. Mama let go of my hair and grabbed the hammer and together we raised it high above my head. Not yet. A wide wet face, the color of a grub appeared between two arms. Large fish eyes blinked back at me. Hot pee ran down my leg and soaked my sock. The creature noticed, smiled a million needle teeth at me. The desert spun in circles. I fought against Mama's grip, but that only made her pulled on tighter. The creature wiggled back and forth, pulling itself from the cottage cheese

stomach. Bits and Mr. Hobbs stuck to its flesh. Not yet. The creature lurched forward and spilled onto the ground like a newborn calf sliding out of its mother. Mama put her lips to my ear, breathed her warm, right breath down my neck. Get ready, Lillianne. Don't let go. Uncurling itself, the grinning creature clawed into the dirt and began crawling towards. us. Its legless body ended right after its ribcage in a short, thumbish nub that slapped against the ground sending up dust. Keep coming, devil. I don't want to be here. The creature hop forward and touched the toe of my sneakers. My body went ice cold. We swung hard. The creature grabbed the hammer and yanked it out of our hands like we were nothing and plugged it into the desert. It rose in front of us

and swayed, smiling, rocking its head from side to side. Mama shoved me to the right and I fell to the ground. Run, Lillian! I didn't know where to go. I scrambled in the dirt searching for the hammer. I turned in time to see the creature lunge at Mama and force her onto her back. She looked at me, her eyes wild with terror, as the creature bent into her throat. I didn't know where the hammer landed, but I had to help Mama.

I wanted to smash the creature until there was nothing. Nothing left for God to do. The creature shook Mama by the neck like a dog with a rabbit. Bone snapped, saliva drooled from the creature's mouth and sizzled on Mama's skin. She stared at me with huge eyes, but she couldn't scream. And then she was gone. The creature that go of her throat and slithered off to the side revealing the stringy insides of Mama's ruined neck.

Lillian. The words sounded just like Mama, but they were coming from the creature's mouth. I stood there too terrified to move. No feelings. I was just a girl-shaped thing. The creature began to writhe in the dirt, all the while keeping its dull eyes fixed on me. The abdominal nub got longer.

Legs formed and snaked out along the ground. The creature's skull twisted and shifted, reshaping into something new. The fish eyes sunk back into the black cavity and a fresh human ones took their place. Green. Just like mom. I backed away as the creature became my mother.

After it finished, it stood naked and shivering in the headlights of the Fairmont and dressed itself in my mama's clothes. The creature didn't make any move toward me. Instead, it stumbled to the driver's side of the car and slid into the seat. At first it didn't do a thing, just sat there, letting the engine idle. Then it reached over and pushed the passenger drawer open with the rusty creek. Come, Lilian. My chest lurched. Something moved deep in my back where it always hurt.

Its smile looked no different from Mama's old smile, back before she got mean. Back when she used to be happy, I took a few steps towards the door. You aren't her. I know that. The Mama creature grim. Her mouth was a little too wide. It patted the seat. I climbed up into the passenger side.

Then the mama creature reached over my lap and pulled the door shut. Its hairbrushed my arms and I got goose pimples. The car smelled like a bait shop. We drove away, leaving Mr. Hobbs and Mama for the coyotes and all the other scavengers. My new mama had so many things to teach me about this world and all the others. I was a slow learner at first, but we had nothing but time. The shower is a good place to contemplate things and get your head straight. step under those hot jets and the sleep of the night before washes right off preparing you for your day

that's where we join david the main character of this tale shared with us by author ryan carter but as we soon learn the thoughts and observations he begins making during his morning shower soon take a turn for the alarming performing this tale with me is kyle acres So come join us in the bathroom to get cleaned up And listen to our shower thoughts To the cold air of his bedroom, his cell phone alarm blaring It played something orchestral, something with a lot of violins, Something nice to wake up to.

After countless early mornings, the sound of it made him slightly nauseated. The time was 5.25 a.m. He quickly silenced the alarm and unlocked his phone, disabling the others set for 530 and 535. He didn't remember silencing the one set for 515. He lay himself back down under the covers, retreating from the cold. His eyes burned. He wanted to yawn but felt like his whole body might deflate if he did.

Had he left the window open? He couldn't remember, but all the same, it was open. The temperature had dropped something fierce overnight. At least he didn't have to worry about any. any bugs getting in. The screen was missing, which was a pain in summer, but not an issue in autumn. His old roommate, Eric, had smashed out the screen to toss him his keys once. Why he didn't just come down and let him in, he'd never know. Eric apparently hadn't known either. I don't know, was the aloof answer he got. The lamp was still on, too. What had he been doing before

going to bed? He'd been up too late for a 7 a.m. start. He knew that much. David's eyes burned and he fought back a yawn. He brushed his hand across his twin mattress, enjoying the softness of the sheet, until it bumped against an old paperback. It was probably bookmarked on the same page it had been for days, so much for reading in bed. He jolted himself back up again. Resting his eyes started to feel like an increasingly bad idea.

7 a.m. start. He pushed himself out of bed and slid the window shut before plodding out of his room into the hallway, walking over old mail, dishes, dirty laundry, and other random clutter that he'd be upset to find so neglected if he'd bothered to give the pile a second glance. The hall connected to another bedroom, unoccupied, the living room, and a small bathroom. It was a bigger apartment than he needed, and he wasn't going to be able to afford it for long. With nobody in his life to spend it on, his savings had actually been pretty decent. It was enough to get by for the next month or so, but not much more. Eric had moved out suddenly and unceremoniously,

stiffing him with his share of this month's rent. In his bedroom, he left behind some large, beaten-up boxes that smelled musty and looked like they'd been stored in a damp place. David did wonder if some of his more valuable things had up and left with Eric, but over the last three weeks he still hadn't remembered to have a serious look. He only remembered to check when he wasn't home. He entered the bathroom, flicking on the light and the ceiling fan together. It smelled faintly of mildew, something he'd gotten so used to that he never noticed. After relieving himself, he shed his worn boxers and entered the shower. He always remembered his father's mantra about how a shower should only take five minutes, but like many mornings before, he set the water

hot and sat down in the tub with his arms on his knees, head down, just staring at the water running off his body and into the drain. Just a few minutes. He knew in the back of his mind that a half hour or more sitting like that could pass by very easily, but with only a day and a half to switch up his sleep schedule from nights to days, he was exhausted. His job was monotonous and dragged out his days. Calling it security felt a bit like a joke to him. He was babysitting a building.

It sounded like easy work, but the rotation was. of nights and days of his schedule was insufferable. He got barely any human contact and was barred from doing anything on downtime but reading books. The last time he'd picked up a book by choice was when he was a kid, but he was desperate to pass the time. The nights were a little easier. He'd usually stay up all night and sleep until afternoon anyway,

but pushing it until 7 a.m. for numerous nights, only to work days soon after, he couldn't stand it. Regularly sleeping the daylight hours away was too much even for him, and he could never get himself to bed early enough to work for the mornings. His head was still lulled forward. He liked to imagine himself entranced by the water running down the drain. Maybe if he imagined hard enough, he really would be stuck in place, but he knew he could get up at any point he wanted to. It felt good to just sit in the warmth of the shower, but oddly he never fell asleep in it, even during the really bad mornings where he curled in the fetal position and did his best to ignore the discomfort of water filling his ear. David almost laid down then, before wondering how much time had passed.

It felt like it had been a while, but not too long. Ten minutes, maybe? Surely not longer than that. He yawned. deeply again, closing his eyes so hard that they ached a little. He put his hands on the side of the tub, and in a forced burst of energy, he stood back up. He grabbed the bar of soap and made short work of scrubbing himself with it. His mind wandered, trying to relish his remaining time in this last comfortable space between bed and the outside world. He grabbed the shampoo and

scrubbed his hair for only a few seconds before putting his head under the stream, the rushing water and dispersing suds drowning out all noises. With a brief moment of resignation, he turned off the taps. He stood there for a moment, the bathroom silent except for some residual drops from the tap faintly echoing in the drain. Didn't I turn the fan on? He was almost positive he had, but its hum was a white noise that blended with the running water so well that it was possible he never realized until now he'd left it off. The silence was disquieting. Perplexed, he started to reach for the edge of the curtain. It froze. The fan hadn't simply started up again, as if the motor had stalled or something. He was positive he heard the

switch on the wall flip back on. Taking a step back, he glanced upward over the curtain rod at the fans great. There was a lot of condensation on the ceiling around it, enough to give the barest reflection. Was that a dark shape swaying slowly back and forth? He leaned back onto the wall of the shower, biting his hand unconsciously. Whoever it was, were they waiting for him to come out? Did they know he knew they were there? Uh, forgot to wash my hair. He tried his best to sound like someone talking to himself, like it was something he always did when nobody else was around. Quickly, he turned the water back on. He couldn't think of what else to do. After a few deep breaths, he settled his nerves a little. Adrenaline gave him some focus.

How did someone break into his place? He always checked the lock more than once before bed, and he would have heard the door get kicked in. He didn't have a balcony, and his apartment was on the fifth floor anyway. Had Eric returned his key? He could have sworn he had, but maybe he didn't. Or maybe he'd squirrel a copy away to sneak back in. David began to flush with outrage, suppressing his terror for the moment. Why would he break in just to linger around in the bathroom like a creep? David checked the condensation on the ceiling.

The shape was still there. He always was a weirdo. Eric, stop fucking around. What are you doing here? He hoped the sudden challenge would catch him off guard. Despite the hum of the fan, he was certain of what he heard. It sounded like the wind whistling through a crack in glass, and it chilled David despite the warmth of the shower.

Whoever or whatever was outside the curtain, it wasn't Eric. His chest started to feel tight, his breathing becoming short. What the hell is going on? He rubbed his eyes. He started to feel dizzy, reality losing focus the more he retreated into his own thoughts. He wished he had the fortitude to just rush out and face what was out there, but he couldn't will himself to do it. There was something inhuman standing there just beyond a flimsy waterproof curtain. He just knew it, and there was nothing he could do about it.

David slid down the wall until he was sitting. His knees bent a little uncomfortably close to his chest. It wouldn't have felt right sitting sideways in the tub under normal circumstances, but he couldn't take his eyes away from the curtain. It was a benign beige, no menacing silhouette, no strange movements. Maybe if he sat long enough, whatever it was would just go away. The thing outside the shower just became a fact for him, a miserable fact that threatened to cut his life short for good.

Suddenly his dismal job didn't sound so bad. Spending his free time at home with nobody for company felt a lot more secure than it did lonely. There were friends he should check in with, catch up. It was so easy these days, but he never bothered. It would be so easy if only he could get out of the shower. Thinking about its voice, he imagined something as thin as a rake, with gray flesh shrunken against a skeletal frame,

unkempt hair and limbs too long for its body. body. Had it snuck in through his window, or was it some sort of phantom? Life doesn't prepare you for stuff like this. He inhaled deeply, gaining some composure. He thought he caught some whiffs of an earthy smell he hadn't noticed before. What could he do now? There was no longer hiding. He'd just spoken to whatever was there. It knew he was in here. What was it waiting for? As he anticipated the worst, eyes never leaving the drab curtain, he began to wonder where this thing could have come from. His window had been open, but was height a concern for it? He imagined its form snaking into his bedroom while he slept, lurking in a dark corner of his room as he got up, unmoving and unseen.

The thought made his stomach twist into knots. He tried to picture it skulking into Eric's old room instead. His eyes glazed over as he retreated into his thoughts, not noticing that the lights were at that moment imperceptibly getting dimmer. Eric's old room. He had always been strange, into candles and weird goth shit. David thought of the surreal figurines he used to collect and the musty books littering his room.

He remembered the blaring metal music he couldn't understand. He'd never paid his quirks that much money. mind before. They'd only started rooming together because David was between jobs and couldn't afford a place by himself. He found Eric's ad looking for a roommate online. Eric was friendly enough when he first moved in, mostly keeping to himself, but became more of a recluse in the months leading up to his sudden departure. After finding work, David's schedule didn't help with the two of them buddying up more either. He slept all day or was gone all night most of the time, so he had no idea what Eric got up to. He always seemed on edge the night's David was home. He remembered the

crusty-looking boxes that Eric had left behind after he moved out, just sitting in the middle of his empty room. He'd never thought to look through them. They stank like damp and decay, like an old shed. He was afraid that if he touched them, he'd feel dirty after, like the kind of feeling that creeps under your skin no matter how much you wash. He assumed it was all soiled, clothes and garbage, and since the room was usually off limits for him, it was easy to ignore. What if Eric left something more behind? A wretched form coiled in the box, inert and waiting until this morning, and now it had him cornered. In his mind he began meeting many terrible fates, claws piercing the curtain, impaling him, the thing left unseen. Or the curtain took him. Or the curtain

torn away, revealing its terrifying form. Was it a humanoid creature, or a shapeless monstrosity he couldn't make sense of? Would it devour his soul, mangle his flesh, or leave no trace of him at all? In an odd way, he hoped it would be violent yet quick, leaving something definitive behind. Then his parents wouldn't be left with questions of where he'd gone. It was at this point he snapped back to the world around him, noticing how dim the lights had. become. No, no, no. Renewed panic welled up inside him. He tried to get up but slipped, banging his knee into the tub. The pain released all his pent-up feelings in a torrent of desperation.

The light's almost completely out now. Leave me the fuck alone. What do you want from me? There was a moment of calm, his throat burning, before the roaring response that followed. It would have been hard for him to describe. Every surface vibrated and the lights died completely. David sensed a surging toward him. His ears bombarded with booming noise and speech that he couldn't understand yet terrified him all the same. He covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will away the onrush of activity. He collapsed himself onto the floor of the tub, curling up, overwhelmed by the oppressive force assailing

his senses. He couldn't tell how much time had passed. It might have been an eternity or moments. Everything was calm. He opened his eyes and the lights were back to normal. The shower was running as steadily as it always had. He began to rise, his knee still throbbing a little. The fan droned on like normal. He remained silent and still for a few long moments. He stared at the curtain, no silhouette. He hadn't ever seen one, but it offered a small comfort. He tried peeking at the condensation on the ceiling, but couldn't make out any shapes nor darkness reflected. He sighed heavily, like someone dropping something heavy they'd been straining to carry.

The shower was beginning to lose its hot water. He ran his face under it to refresh himself before turning off the taps. Silence prevailed in the bathroom, except for the continual hum of the fan. He felt like someone waking from a dream, relieved to find that the nightmare had been just that, only a nightmare. David reached for the edge of the curtain before pausing. He felt a safety and confidence he wasn't sure why he failed to summon before, but was still wary. He shifted to the other end of the curtain, which opened in front of the moment. front of the toilet. Inconvenient, but if there was still something there, he could have a little

more room between him and it. He laughed a little at what he now saw as silliness, but opened that side all the same. To his immediate relief, he saw nothing there at all. Nothing was out of place in the bathroom, and early morning sunlight was still barely coming into the apartment. The only thing that he caught was the other end of the shower curtain flapping closed. As if just as he poked his head out, something had slipped in behind him. When a loved one goes missing, it can be torture. There are so many questions, so many what-ifs. Did something bad happen to them? Did they choose to leave? But as we learn in this tale, shared with us by author M.J. Orr's, sometimes when you're a family member of a missing person, Suspicion can fall on you.

Performing this tale are Mike Delgadoo, Nicole Goodnight, Erica Sanderson, and Mick Wingert. So let's join a couple as they look for their missing daughter. But when the phone rings late at night, maybe it's time to call off the search. The search party scoured the woods for weeks. I can distinctly remember the way the police chief spoke to us when he told us they were going to cease the search.

but that they wouldn't be giving up the fight to find Abby, that if she was still out there, they would find her. Somehow, some way they would find my little girl. I even remember the way he hugged me and hugged my wife. And I could tell he had rehearsed every line of the bullshit he was feeding us in the mirror the night before. I was grateful, though, for the trembling in his voice. That meant he cared.

He was just doing his job. They couldn't continue to exhaust. the resources anymore and the volunteers were getting fewer and fewer by the day. It wasn't that he wanted to stop looking, but that at this point there wasn't a lot of hope that they were going to find Abby, at least not find her alive. The morning that Abby went missing wasn't the worst of the days. I think the worst day was day two. You see, on day one, you're scared, but you're hopeful. On day one, you think that whatever happened will have a resolution and that they'll find your daughter and arrest whoever took her, or that she'll simply come back home. Nine-year-old kids can run

away. It isn't a common thing, especially not around these parts, but it can happen. She had her rebellious streaks from time to time, so it wasn't completely improbable that she took off for one reason or another. Looking back at it all now, I realized that I was stupid. Like I said, on day one, you're hopeful. On day two, the realism sets in. By day two, the hopefulness is gone. You realize how long 24 hours can actually be, and your brain begins to think of all the things that could have happened to your sweet, innocent daughter over the course of 24 hours. There are a lot of terrifying things that can happen in that amount of time. I recall there even being a part of me that wished if someone had taken her, that she was dead at this point. I didn't like the thought of my baby

suffering at the hands of some monster. Who could ever hurt a child? The police were kind, especially in the beginning. They would check in on my wife and I, and they would make sure that we were informed if anything was found. They reported back to us daily, and I couldn't be more thankful for that. However, their searches always came up empty, with the exception of one time. There was a point about a week into the searches where somebody had stated that they had found a young girl's sleeping gown out at the woods towards the edge of town.

I was heartbroken when I heard the news, but that hopeful glimmer raised its shiny head for just a second. Even though it wasn't that somebody had found my daughter, we were one step closer to an answer to closure of some sort. But the gown wasn't hers. We looked at it immediately after the call came in. We had never seen anything like it before on our abbey. It was a false lead.

There were plenty of tips coming into the department, but other than that gown, none of them were anything more than hearsay or speculation. People would call in and say that they thought they saw somebody who looked like Abby at a hardware store 45 miles away, but it would always amount to nothing. It was kind of like when you go fishing as a kid. You know, every single time your line moves,

even slightly you get excited and think that you're on the path to catching that big fish, but it turns out to just be the drag from the bottom of the lake. Eventually, you realize that it's just mud and dirt and scum, and it's all worthless, just like those calls, those dozens of calls that meant nothing. While the police were relatively kind, the townsfolk, though hiding it well at first,

had opinions of their own. I understand where they were coming from, but it's still hurt nonetheless to be suspected. You always hear about the crazy parents who kidnapped their own children or things of that sort, but you never really think about what it would be like to be a parent of those missing children. I've since learned to forgive the folks in town here who believe that I or my wife had a hand in our daughter's disappearance. They weren't being cruel. They were just believing what they had always heard in the media or on the news about other stories.

and not to mention, it's much easier to have a face on the monster that took a small child from her bed than to think that that person might still be out there. They want to know in their own minds that their child is safe. So thinking of me or my wife as the culprit helps them to sleep at night. As long as they stay away from us, from our family, then this devilish beast they've made us out to be won't come snatch up their babies in the middle of the night. And yet, and yet they still continued to aid in the searches.

I can only assume it was more for our Abbey than for either of us. I'd like to think, though, that now that the searches are ending and everyone is getting on with their lives, that they can start to see us as more normal parts of the community. Even though I know that the stigma will hang over our heads for the rest of our lives, at least as long as we live in this town. That was weeks ago. The murmurs have begun to die down, though are still very present and certainly not whispered with any shame. The stairs continued as I would walk through the grocery store.

But at least it felt like it was only every few people instead of every single person. Life was starting to peek out a tiny morsel of normalcy, and the weight and burden of the event lifted ever so slightly from my shoulders. My wife felt the same. In fact, she seemed to be stronger during these hard times than I did. I'll admit it, even as a man that I relied on her courage throughout this ordeal, I wouldn't have been able to handle all of this if it wasn't for her efforts and her hopefulness, even though we all knew the inevitable. Abby's gone. Abby isn't coming back, we will never, we will never see Abby again. I would stare into the mirror, watching myself say the words, trying to believe them.

Abby's in a better place now. I was wrong. It was 4.15 in the morning or so when the phone rang. I was sleeping, as was my wife. Her phone was faced down only emitting that tiniest bit of light that seeped out from between the wooden nightstand. in the metal hunk of technology. Caroline, Caroline, who's calling you this early?

Is everything okay? Caroline leaned over and picked up the phone. The shine from it revealed a puzzle look on my wife's face. Her head cocked to the side like a puppy waiting for its next direction. It's an unknown number. I grumbled and rolled back over onto my side, pulling the pillow over my face to keep the light at bay. Are you going to answer it?

No, I'm sorry, Mark. Go back to bed. And with that, I heard her phone vibrate as she turned off the ringer and set the phone back down on the bedside table. She lay down, and in seconds was back to sleep, softly snoring. Oh, Caroline, come on. I gripped the pillow over my ears now, waiting to feel my wife's body tussle out of the covers to grab the phone. She moved quickly and silenced the vibrations. Mark, look.

She held the phone up close to my pillow for me to inspect. I rubbed my open hand across my face and let out a sigh as I squinted to read the screen. Unknown caller. Just answer it. It's probably some shithead kid or something. Maybe one of those nasty old cronies finally got our number and wanted to harass us about, you know. Or maybe just someone in a different time zone or someone trying to sell a shit. I don't know.

Just pick it up. Phone call isn't going to hurt. But whoever it is, just let them know it's four in the morning and they need to fucking stop calling here. I felt Caroline shift once more as she held the phone to her ear. Hello? Hello? I sat up just in time to watch my wife hurl her phone across the room.

She began to sob into her folded arms, hugging her knees to her chest. Caroline? Caroline? Caroline, what the hell? What happened? Who was that? All she could do was cry. I stood up out of bed and shuffled over to where her phone had landed. The call was still going.

I could see the timer ticking up second by second on the screen. I picked up the phone and held it to my ear. Mark, don't. Hey, who the fuck do you think? Daddy, is that you? Now listen here, if this is some kind of game, I swear to God. Daddy, why are you screaming at me? I knew this had to be a joke.

Someone from town must have thought this was some sort of sick game, and I could just imagine them sitting in a room with all their little friends, trying to hold back their giggles so I wouldn't hear it on my end. Look, we don't think this is funny. I know you're getting a laugh from this, but you need to understand that this is really a crushing matter from my family. Daddy, please. Daddy, it's freezing here, and I'm scared.

The voice on the other end started sobbing, and not the fake comic sobbing of a brady teenager making a prank call, but a sob that I had heard so many times before. The sob I had heard with every scraped knee and with every lost dolly. It was the sob I had heard when our family dog died, and the sob I had heard when dessert couldn't come before dinner. This was my little girl. This was my Abby. Where are you, sweetie? I had given up the idea that this was a prank. I had accepted that even if there was only a slim chance

that my Abby was on the other end of the phone, I wanted to find out as much as I could. Sweetheart, you need to tell me where you are. I can come get you. I'll come get you right now. Look around you. What do you see, sweetie? Tell me.

It's so dark, Daddy. Mark, you're scaring me. Hang up the phone, tell them this isn't funny, that they need to live us alone. Sweetheart, sweetheart, please. Abigail, please tell me something. Tell me anything. We're coming for you, I promise.

We're coming to find you no matter what. Can you see anything at all? Anything that can tell us where you are? Abby, please, please look as hard as you can. Mark, this has got to be some stupid kids playing some stupid game. Please hang up the phone. Too much. Daddy, it's dark. Daddy, it's dark. Daddy, it's dark. Daddy, it's dark. Abigail, I hear you, baby. Just... Daddy, it's dark. Daddy, it's dark. Daddy, it's dark. Daddy, it's dark. Daddy, it's dark. Daddy, it's dark. Daddy, it's dark. Daddy, it's dark. Daddy it's dark.

Leaping out of bed, Caroline grabbed the phone from my hand and threw it to the ground. The sound of the plastic and glass breaking on the fore pulled me out of my trance that this prankster had put me in. Buck in my stomach stayed sunken in my gut as I looked to my wife, just wanting to cry, but simply not able to project tears or sound. I shook. I just shook. We didn't clean up the pieces of the phone for a few moments after, the call we just existed. The overwhelming nature of the situation just flooding over us, drowning us silently. I was the first to make a sound. That was an awful thing to do. What the hell was that, Mark?

That was sick. It sounded almost, I don't know, demonic. Who does that kind of shit? You know there is no way that was Abby, right? You know that couldn't have been her. That was not our little girl. I know. I know. But damn, Caroline. Damn, it sounded so much like her. I know what it sounded like.

I know that it seemed it could have been her, but it's been months. And her voice is going to live in your head forever. You know that. I'm sure we'll both hear her voice for the rest of our lives in every little laugh or somewhere on every television show. She is always going to be. to be with us, Mark, but that wasn't our girl. The sound she made, and why was she saying that it was dark?

Mark, stop it. Get it out of your head that it was Abigail. It wasn't. You wanted to be her so bad, and I get that. But Mark, she's gone. She's been gone for months, and though it hurts to think about, you know what the sheriff said. That she's likely gone, that she's likely... that she's likely dead.

Caroline walked over to my side of the bed and reached for my hand. It's hard. There isn't anything we can do at this point. There isn't anything we can do. I looked over to the clock to see that it was still only half past four in the morning and brought my gaze back to my wife, who was obviously just as confused as I was, staring at me for some kind of answer.

I felt a heat rise in my body as the rock. from my stomach shot up into my chest. Now a fireball as I allowed myself to fill with rage. Oh no, this has gone too far. The call is one thing, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna let this motherfucker come to my home. I made my way over to the closet and from the top shelf pulled down the 12-gate shotgun I had there to protect my family. Now, if ever, was the right time to claim it from its resting place. Caroline said nothing. I I could sense she was now sharing my rage, but couldn't find the right move to make. I stormed out of the bedroom door and made my way towards the front of the house.

I held my breath as I stood in the foyer, shotgun in hand, waiting for another sound. I could hear my heart racing inside my own head, but it left me unbothered. I had a goal, and I was ready to teach these punks a lesson. I wasn't sure if I was going to actually shoot them or just scare them straight, but I knew that somehow I was gonna get my point across. I leapt forward, grabbing the handle, and pulled the knob as hard as I could towards me. I shouldered my weapon, finger on the trigger, and took one step to the threshold of the house. Nothing.

Look, officer, I'm telling you, we both heard the knocking. We both heard the call. We both heard the voice. This isn't something in our heads. Officer Brown placed a hand on my shoulder. Mark, listen. We all know you and Carolina have been there. through a lot. We know that this isn't something people just work their way through or get over.

And I'll even go so far as to say that maybe you did hear something knock against the door. But I don't think someone is messing with you, too. I just don't. These houses creak and rattle. The bang could have been the wind. Or maybe the house is settling or something like that. I don't know, but people don't just... Vanish? You know that's not what I meant, Mark. Look, you'll be hard-pressed to find me not believing that people can't just vanish. Brown hung his head, aware of the fact he had struck a cord.

Maybe you two need a vacation. When was the last time you guys got out? Maybe try to leave this town, this house for a week or two. Might do you some good. A little rest and relaxation certainly never hurt anyone. But unless you got some kind of proof about either of these claims, a call or the knocking, there really isn't much I can do. But maybe drive by and check in on the house a bit on shift when I'm doing rounds around the town. Okay, I'd appreciate that. I felt more defeated than dismissed.

Officer Brown nodded to me, patting my shoulder gently, then nodded to Caroline before exiting. I shut the door behind him. They think we're crazy. You know that, right? They think we're fucking nuts. I don't think so. I think they just don't know what to do. I don't think they believe us, that's for sure.

But I don't think that they think we're crazy. He pities us. Nobody takes us seriously, Mark. He pities us like children. We worked so hard and tried so hard, and we did everything we could. Oh, Caroline, it's going to be okay. Maybe he was right about getting away.

Maybe we should get out and try and go somewhere nice for once. He's not wrong. It has been quite some time. Honestly, maybe a change of scenery could do us some good. I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving until I find out who the hell is pulling the shit. What does it matter? Who cares?

If it happens again, we can hopefully trace the call back to a number. I'll call the phone company. I'll get a hold of somebody. They might not even have my number, and we can change yours when you get a new phone. They won't be able to reach us. Except through the front fucking door, Mark? Except when they show up at our house at 4.30 in the morning.

What's next, climbing through the windows, hiding under our bed? How far are you willing to let this go, Mark? Calm down. Slow down, slow down for just a minute. You're talking... Crazy? Am I? Or am I saying things that are scaring?

you just as much as they scare me. How do we know that the banging wasn't a distraction? How do we know that there isn't someone in the house now? How can you be so damn sure, Mark? No one is in our house, Caroline. You don't think that maybe we would have heard them? And none of the windows are open or broken or anything of a sort. The house is secure. What do you think they can just come through the walls? The only way they could have gotten in would be through the front door, which I opened and I assure you. There was nobody there. Trust me, I looked. I was ready for anything to be standing there, and there wasn't a soul on our front porch or by the door or anything. And nothing got past me. I promise you. Caroline sat on the living room sofa, dropping her head and placing her hands

folded on the back of her skull. You think I'm crazy too, don't you? You think I'm just as crazy as the cops do. What are we doing, Mark? What's happening here? I sat beside her, placing my arm over her shoulder, feeling her shift her weight over onto my body. Nothing is happening. You're scared. I'm scared. It's okay. If you don't want to go anywhere, we don't have to. We can stay here and we can keep the doors locked and we can do whatever you feel would make you more comfortable. I'm here. I won't let anything get to you. I promise. Caroline stayed on the couch most of the day, looking up to the ceiling, blankly. I offered her something to eat or drink, and she only nibbled at the sandwich I made for her around dinner time. She was disconnected. When the sun had sat and I was getting myself ready to go back

to bed, I entered the living room to find her, still there, gazing up. Hey, Caroline, are you ready for bed? the living room behind the couch. Caroline, if you're not ready, that's okay. We can stay down here tonight if you feel safer. But I think that some rest upstairs might do you some good, don't you think? Daddy, it's dark. I couldn't make out what she was saying, so I stepped closer, still behind the couch. I'm sorry, dear. Could you say that again?

Daddy, it's dark! Let's go to bed, Caroline. It'll be... Daddy, it's dark. Daddy, it's dark. What? Daddy and Stark, Daddy and Stark. Caroline, stop it. She was yelling now at the top of her lungs,

loud enough that I could hear the strain on her vocal cords, and I could imagine the pain in her throat. From behind the couch, I screamed for her to stop, but she didn't. I pleaded, now terrified. She almost sounded amused at this point, but I could still hear her voice giving out. It was deafening.

I had never heard Caroline get so loud in the years we had been together. I finally lost it, and I hollered one last time. Fucking stop! And she did. That same eerie silence that loomed after the knocking the night before had returned. I wanted to speak, but I couldn't find the words. I couldn't even hear Caroline breathing on the other side of the couch, but I could feel it.

I could feel her smiling. I could feel her eyes still staring to the ceiling all from behind the sofa out of view. Then there was movement. I heard the shuffling on the cushions, slow but light. I was frozen towards the back of the couch, waiting to see Caroline sit up for the first time that day. In the dim light of the room, I saw a hand come over the top of the couch and grip. It stayed there for a moment, and it took no more than a second for me to realize that it was not Caroline's hand that was reaching to pull the weight up. Abigail?

The hand shot back down behind the sofa as I ran around to the other side, pulling myself using the way to the furniture. There lay Caroline, her eyes still staring, her mouth wide open as if she was screaming. If the townspeople didn't think I was a monster before, sure they do now. I called the police immediately after I realized that Caroline was dead. They told me that I did the right thing by calling, but I had to go in for extensive questioning. I knew they were going to think that it was me that killed her. But thankfully, the autopsy proved my innocence. She had died of a heart attack.

I never told them about the screaming, or my daughter's hand. They never would have believed me anyway. I said that I found her laying there just as she was. And I never told them about last night. I never told them how I was in my bed, watching the minutes tick by on the clock. I never told them that a small tap came to my window.

I never told them that a young voice could be heard from outside of it. and that this time there was no fear. This time there was a calm. I never told them that I followed that voice out into the yard and across the way into the woods that lined the back of my home. I never told them how I made my way through the trees and how I could feel exactly where to stop. I never told them that I dug roughly five feet deep into the ground

and discovered what I had always feared someone else from the search parties would find. But again, there was only calm and a voice. It's okay, Daddy. It's not dark anymore. I looked into the pit. Do this to you. She did. How could I have not known? Nobody did. Abigail.

I am so sorry. I wish I could have done something. I wish I would have known. Daddy, it's okay. It's not dark anymore. I let the corner lip come up to a tiny smile. Not one of cheer, but more of... And started to push the dirt back into the hole.

Before the lights come on, remember, cut your wireless bill to $15 a month with the plans shipped to your door for free at mintmobile.com slash no sleep. As the lights come back on, our stories come to an end. Please remember to be kind and rewind. 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 past program. On behalf of everyone at the No Sleep podcast, we thank you for listening. Join us at the video store next week.

Our door is always open. This audio production is copyright 2019 by Creative Reason Media, Inc. All 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, Inc.