The NoSleep Podcast - NoSleep Podcast S14E13

Episode Date: May 10, 2020

It’s Episode 13 of Season 14. This week we conjure spells for you about being trapped in dreadful places. “A Story Overheard in a Room” written by Johnny Compton (Story starts around 00:06:25) Produced by: Phil Michalski Cast: Narrator – Mike DelGaudio, James – Atticus Jackson, Boy – Erika Sanderson “Undertow” written by Cole White (Story starts around 00:22:00) Produced by: Jesse Cornett Cast: June – Addison Peacock, Vanessa – Nichole Goodnight “The Hallway” written Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Hey, I'm Jessica McAvoy, and once again, I'm also speaking on behalf of our COO, Olivia White. Olivia's mentioned before that she has a personality disorder, and while she has it very much under control, it can still affect her from time to time. For instance, during a global scale event that's changed our very way of life. Generally, Olivia tries to keep it to herself when she's dealing with a mental health dip. Lately, she's been talking to me about it, but often she finds it especially hard if people keep asking about her mental health. In times like this, we're told to check in on our friends and loved ones, and that's great advice, but some people find it very hard to keep people updated on their mental well-being

on request. That's why it's important that people like that know about tools and services they can use on their terms. That's where services like BetterHelp can step in. If you need someone to talk to, or just to listen, they're a great option. BetterHelp will assess your needs and match you with your own licensed professional therapist. You can start communicating in under 24 hours. It's not a crisis line. It's not self-help. It is professional counseling done securely online. There is a broad range of expertise in BetterHelp's counselor network, which may not be locally available in many areas. BetterHelp service is available for clients worldwide. It doesn't matter when you need help,

day or night. You can log into your account anytime and send a message to your counselor. You'll get timely and thoughtful responses, plus you can schedule weekly video or phone sessions so you won't ever have to sit in an uncomfortable waiting room. Doubly important right now during this pandemic. Plus, you can even chat and text with your therapist between sessions when you need to talk about things. It allows you to take control of when you feel capable of opening up, instead of being put on the spot if you're someone who finds that hard.

BetterHelp is committed to facilitating great therapeutic matches, so they make it easy and free to change counselors if you're someone who finds that hard. needed. It's more affordable than traditional offline counseling and financial aid is even available. So whenever you need some help, visit betterhelp.com slash no sleep and join the over 500,000 people taking charge of their mental health with the help of an experienced professional. No sleep listeners get 10% off your first month at betterhelp.com slash no sleep. Staying quiet about your mental health struggles generally isn't the best thing. It's always good to ask for help or reach out when you can. But the when you can is important here. Not being able to choose when you talk about it

can make things worse for many people with personality disorders or other mental health conditions. So get the help you need, but on your terms, visit betterhelp.com slash no sleep to get 10% off your first month whenever you need it. In our world, there is magic in the darkness. Sorcery and incantations which bring us closer to the essence of the night. Come enter our black magic shop, where we will conjure up tales to frighten and disturb. This journey will be spellbinding. Brace yourself for the No Sleep Podcast.

Welcome visitors to the No Sleep. magic shop. I'm your proprietor, David Cummings. This week, we conjure spells for you about being trapped in dreadful places. I have two projects I want to bring to the attention of your ears. The first is called The Leviathan Chronicles, a long-running revolutionary science fiction audio drama podcast featuring the voices of over 60 actors, professional sound effects, and an original music soundtrack. This week, they're launching the final series of the show, so it's the perfect time to delve into this wonderful audio production.

And you'll hear many familiar voices on the show, so be sure to check out the Leviathan Chronicles at Leviathan Chronicles.com. The second project is the brainchild of author and friend of the show, Manin Lyset. It's called COVID Campfire. It features short horror stories written by many of the wrong. writers you love from our show, and they're narrated by lots of our voice actors, among others. Each story is roughly five minutes long, and they're written in the form of urban legends set in the time of the COVID pandemic. You get a random tale each time you visit the site,

so settle in around the digital campfire and enjoy a creepy tale or two. You'll soon learn why everyone who listens want some more at COVID-campfire.com. Check the show notes for links both of these great projects and fill your ears with wonderful adventures and horrors. And speaking of ears filled with horrors, get yours ready for a top-up because we're ready to fill them up. Now close your eyes and embrace the magic. In our first tale, we find ourselves in a budget motel. We've all stayed in them.

Mysterious stains on the carpet, a tap that won't stop dripping, a kettle, that hasn't been descaled in 69 years. They can be strange, eerie places. But in this tale, shared with us by author Johnny Compton, our man James can at least take solace in the horror movie marathon playing on TV. That'll make him feel at ease, right? Performing this tale are Mike Delgado, Atticus Jackson, and Erica Sanderson. So settle back on one of those beds that vibrate if you put a little bit of,

a quarter in and listened to a story overheard in a room. The numbers of the digital clock displayed 1133. In five hours, James would need to be at the airport to catch his flight home. He was tired, but he seemed to creep further from sleepiness each minute. He shifted in bed, lying flatter on the mattress to take some pressure off his hip. The bed groaned as it did each time he moved. It was a stiff, quarrelsome thing, full of dips and mounds that collins. collaborated to kill his efforts to get comfortable.

Lying flat would soon prove to be hell on his back, and he'd have to shift again in ten minutes or so, and then again in another ten, and on like that through the night. It was his fourth and final night of tossing and turning in this bed, but the first he'd spent wide awake in it. There was a time when he could have slept soundly on a concrete floor and been no worse for it in the morning.

Now, though, the aches of a rough night's sleep followed him for days, if not weeks, and those accumulated pains prevented him from willing himself to sleep. Other than the bed, there wasn't much in the motel room to complain about. It was small, its back wall taken up by floor-to-ceiling mirror pains, and it held the odor of cheap cleaning products. It was a vague smell, almost inoffensive, but noticeable enough to tickle his nostrils. James knew that it masked harsher odors. He remembered the smells of some of the other discount motels he had stayed in to cut costs during business trips and figured he should be grateful that this place was at least trying. Besides, he couldn't fault roadside suites, which advertised free

cable and renovated restrooms on its marquee for being exactly the kind of place he knew it would be. The channel selection on the television was half as deep as what he had at home. He spent an hour with sitcoms that pulled a few smirks out of him but did nothing to cure his restlessness. bored with the comedies he searched for something else to watch. Channel surfing brought him to a British slasher film he had never heard of. It had the dinginess of an untouched film from the 70s, back when movies looked like filtered dreams and were better for it, in his opinion. The film was a reasonable diversion, though nowhere near the lullaby he needed.

A small headache in the back of his head fed his insomnia and unsettled him more than anything on the television screen. He had a doctor's appointment, waiting for him back home. He had already canceled an appointment earlier in the month and wanted to cancel again, but he promised his kids that he wouldn't put it off any longer. His son and daughter, recent college graduates who were sure they had the world figured out, insisted he see his physician about his headaches. James couldn't get them to understand that he could live more easily with the headaches than with any bad news his doctor might deliver. The movie ended with a telegraphed final

twist. The investigator's wife had been the killer all along, but did so with enough of a wink that James held no contempt toward it. When the second movie began, another British thriller that was part of an apparent marathon, he didn't change the channel. The tone and the actual sound mix of the second film were quieter than that of the first. James had to turn the volume up to hear the dialogue for the relatively few scenes that contained dialogue. Chunks of the film passed with no words spoken. character was an intrepid naive man, house sitting in a sprawling mansion that couldn't have looked more haunted. The scarcity of plot and characters made it easier for James' divided and sleep-starved mind to follow what was presented. The first film had layered a fresh plot twist atop each body

that the killer claimed, while this second film traveled his straight road with one exit. It kept his interest, but James found his attention wavering near the end, wanting something to happen. Then, in an unbroken 30-second shot seemed from the lead character's point of view, the house's resident specter painfully ripped itself from the massive portrait that had contained it, while the hapless hero struggled to even gasp at what he had witnessed, much less scream. James felt for a moment that he was there along with the man in the film. He held his breath unconsciously and backed himself up against the mirrored wall behind him. The film faded to black.

James smiled an appreciation of its climactic scare. It was now 2.30 in the morning, and his heartbeat was at a steady trot. Might as well stay up until he had to leave, he figured. Even if he could find a way to nod off now, he'd likely oversleep and miss his flight. Besides, he was interested in seeing what would come next. The third movie opened on an exhausted, shoeless woman who limped her way through the stone streets of a town full of long shadows. The woman whimpered as she hustled along, but did not stop to pound at any door she passed, did call out for some help in the hopes that someone would at least come to their window.

She went down an alley, then came to another that looked the same as the one she'd just left, only longer, then to another that was narrower. She heard something that sounded like scraping metal. She gasped, backed against a wall, and looked behind her, above her. If she saw anything, the camera did not reveal it. But something, the situation itself, it seemed, started her sobbing. Don't cry. It'll be okay. James tensed. The child's voice had not come from the television.

He turned and saw his reflection turning toward him in kind. The voice had come from behind him, from behind the wall. But it had been too clear and too close to come from behind the wall. It had sounded more like it had bounced off the surface of the mirror. He was just beginning to rationalize what he thought he heard. He was very tired, after all, and was up much later than he was used to, when the voice came again. You have to stop crying, or he'll hear you. A soft-spoken boy from the sound of it, though he spoke with an earnest composure that suggested he might be older.

You can still get out. You just have to be quiet. On the television, the woman cried out again, louder this time, and James remembered that he turned up the volume for the previous movie. Please don't cry. He'll hear you. Listen to me. You have to look for a way out, and you have to keep quiet. James slid to the edge of the bed, away from the wall. This had to be somebody speaking to him from the next room. Someone's kid who'd heard the movie and was either playing a prank on James or was just profoundly confused in trying to be helpful. It had to be that, or something like it, even though it couldn't be that, because the voice was too clear to be coming from. from the other room. James had been in many thin-walled motels that couldn't keep the sounds of

fighting, laughter, sex, or music from being heard next door, but never one with a wall so thin that it led a child's whispers pass through like smoke through a vent. Behind James, the woman on the television screamed. Before him, the boy implored her to be silent. James stood and turned the television off. It was still possible that he was mistaken and that the voice was that of an unseen character from the film. It was possible that he had somehow imagined it being behind him. He watched the wall, waited. Hello? Are you still there? James' stomach gurgled. He felt lightheaded. It occurred to him that this disembodied voice might have crawled out of the malady in his brain that was also responsible for his headaches. I hope you're okay.

I hope you got away. James walked to the small foyer and turned on the light switch, then re-entered the room and looked around for signs of a microphone, signs that this was a dream, signs of anything that would give him the peace of knowing he wasn't losing his mind. Could this really be how insanity came to someone, so sudden and inspired? He watched the spot in the mirrored wall where the voice had come from,

just above the bed. He waited, almost daring it to return. He and his reflection stared at the same spot from opposing angles, eyes low like they were two men afraid or ashamed of making eye contact. Who are you? Who are you? Then James shook his head. He wasn't ready to renounce the idea that he was speaking to a confused or mischievous kid who was in the next room.

He needed to address this boy accordingly. Where are your parents? Do they know you're up? Did they leave you alone and... You're him, aren't you? You're him. Where's the lady that was crying? What did you do to her?

All right, kid. Did you hurt her? What did you do? I'm calling the front desk. If your parents are there, you're going to be in a lot of trouble. James stepped towards the phone that sat on the nightstand near the head of the bed, near the mirrored wall. What did you do to her? The mirror pains rattled as though he'd bellowed the wall.

words, though his voice was no louder than it had been before. James froze, his mouth went dry. The mirror rattled again, and he flinched. It rattled once more, and a small crack appeared in the spot he'd been staring at. Surrounding the crack in the mirror was a small handprint that evaporated a second after it appeared. Where is she? Did you hurt her? I'm going to the front desk. No. James went to the door, reached for the door. handle and touched ice. He pulled back, looked at it to be sure, to remind himself that it was an unremarkable motel door handle. He went for it again, pressed down. It held with a soft click, as though it were locked from the outside. He pressed down harder, folded the door to force it

open. I won't let you hurt anyone else. This is the last time. The temperature in the room dropped. James thought he felt something cold grazed the back of his neck. He turned around and saw no one behind him. From the foyer, close to the door, his view of the damaged spot in the mirror was blocked by the corner of the wall. He could still hear the mirror being struck, though. He heard it rattle with each strike. He heard the small crack splinter and sprout limbs that sprouted offshoots of their own. I couldn't stuck you then, but I can now. Okay, listen to me.

You've got me confused with someone else, okay? You won't hurt anyone else. No more for you. No more. Damn it, listen to me. That lady you heard was on the TV. She's not even real. I didn't hurt anybody.

I've never heard anyone. No more. No more. The lights in the room died. James turned back to the door, pounded on it, alternated trying to yank it open and force his shoulder through it. He felt a pressure on the left side of his chest. He believed he was shouting for help,

but he could not hear himself above the pulse pumping in his ears. The sentences that formed in his head made as much sense to him as possible under the circumstances, but he could not be sure they weren't spinning themselves into lunacy on the way out of his mouth. Please hear me. Please help me. I'm stuck in here with something that was stuck in the mirror.

I am stuck in here. Please get me out. I am stuck in here with something that thinks I've done something horrible. I am stuck in here with this thing that was stuck too. It's out now. I'm stuck in here, and it's out now. I am stuck in here with it. I am stuck here.

I am stuck here. I'm stuck. And James fell back onto the floor. The pressure in his chest became an enormous weight pinning him to the floor, like his heart had become an anvil. He could only pull in short sips of breath. A hardening pain seized his lower jaw. He recognized the two people who had forced the door open and barged in

as the employees who worked the welcome desk. One of them, the woman, melt over him. She talked quickly. James could not hear her any more than he could hear himself. He thought he read the words, Heart attack on her lips. A strand of embarrassment needled its way through his panic. Heart attack, of course.

His exhausted, possibly tumorous brain, inspired by a string of late-night horror pictures, had conjured up its own work of scary fiction and subjected him to it, frightened him into a hypertensive state and killed him with it. How foolish, how humiliating. If only he hadn't canceled that damn appointment. The woman looked at her coworker, shouted at him to get his attention. He stood behind her, his full attention stolen by something to his left.

He was facing the wall, the mirrors. The door slammed shut. As the woman jumped to her feet and the man facing the wall opened his mouth to scream, James felt an odd sense of relief as his life drifted away, and he found himself surveying the scene in the room from outside his corpse. At least it had been real. At least he hadn't died insane. Relieved at this as he laughed, almost loud enough to drown out the boy's furious screaming. Wide open ocean, peace, quiet and tranquility. Nothing scary about the sea. See, as long as you don't look underwater. But that's exactly what divers do.

That won't stop our intrepid heroes, June and Vanessa, though. In this tale, shared with us by author Cole White, our divers are heading out further than usual to investigate a mysterious diving spot they've been recommended. Performing this tale are Addison Peacock and Nicole Goodnight. But beware when you go under. You might see something strange. There might be evidence of something living down there.

So investigate, but watch you don't get caught in the undertow. Every weekend for the past year, weather permitting, Ness and I have gone diving at least for an hour or two. Last month, on the afternoon that changed everything, we'd set out off the coast to explore a new patch of ocean. We usually dive in the same areas because we know all the landmarks and places worth seeing, but we'd been tipped off about a great spot somewhere we'd never dived before. It was further out than we usually went, which was mostly annoying at the time,

but we were told that the natural rock formations there and the animals that called them home were incredible. I was so excited, so ready to comb the ocean looking for adventure. How stupid. If I'd just refused to dive in an unfamiliar place, none of this shit would have happened in the first place. And it's almost funny how I was the one who suggested we give the new dive spot a go, considering the kind of person I've always been. I grew up afraid of most things.

dark rooms, loud noises, excitable dogs, anyone taller than me, and I'd be lying if I said I don't still carry most of those fears. Even now, as a 23-year-old woman who pays her own rent and works overnight shifts more often than not, I still jump at sudden movements in the edge of my periphery and cross the street whenever someone approaches me at night. But I've always been a good actor. And I've never had a problem convincing people of my tough-as-nails exterior.

It's probably why I got stuck with so many late-night shifts at the grocery store in the first place. And probably why, whenever there's a spider that needs to be taken outside, I'm the one people turn to. I always manage to make up some excuse for why I can't. But still, I don't need anyone picking at my weaknesses, especially when I already get enough of shit for my taste in romantic partners, so I put in a lot of effort to make sure no one knows how much of a chicken shit I am. So a year ago, when Vanessa, who I'd had an embarrassing crush on for months at that point,

first asked me if I wanted to learn to scuba dive with her, I couldn't say no. I was practically shitting my pants at the idea of being underwater, with the only oxygen available strapped to my back. Did I mention my fear of suffocation? And I hated getting my hair wet. My tight curls already required so much upkeep without salty seawater messing them up.

But we'd been dancing around each other for a while, and our cagey back-and-forth flirting finally had the chance to become something more. I figured I could deal with a little disqualification. comfort and a small chunk of debt, if it meant spending a substantial amount of time with the girl I'd been trying to woo for months. I met Vanessa when I started working at the local grocery store a couple years ago. A few years after I'd moved from a small town in Michigan to California for school. A string of post- undergraduate mistakes led me from a promising

career in production to a part-time job and a tiny apartment far enough out of the city that the cost of living didn't send me crawling back to my parents. Ness worked in the bakery department of the grocery store that hired me. The first time I saw her, she had flour in her dark red hair and frosting on her cheek that almost blended in with her freckles. And when I asked her where to go for my interview, a flicker of annoyance crossed her face before she smoothed her features over in a synthetic customer service brand smile. She cheerily told me where to go before turning back to her work, thinking she was being subtle when she rolled her eyes at me.

For me, it was love at first sight. So I spent months trying to catch her attention until I did and was forced to confront my gripping fear of the ocean. As I fell in love with Vanessa, I never expected to fall for scuba diving, too. We'd taken these informational classes before they'd let us dive, classes that taught us all about the dangers of diving, animal attacks, decompression sickness, nitrogen narcosis, even freaking ear infections. The class had taught us other things too, but I was pretty fixated on the idea of putting myself into a situation that was begging for trouble. I figured if humans were meant to be divers, we'd be born with gills.

The first time we went diving, actually diving in open water, after we got our diving licenses, I thought I'd be dead before I hit the water. Is this really how I want to die? I'd thought to myself as the boat pulled to a stop and we got ready to jump in. I haven't even had the chance to get. kiss her, but I'm ready to die for her? And the answer was yes. Regardless of how dumb an answer it was,

I'd gotten the damn license at that point, and I really wanted to impress Vanessa. You scared? She smiled lopsidedly at me, as she tugged at the collar of her wetsuit. We'd already buddy-checked our gear on the shore. She could probably tell, that I was messing with my air tank out of nervousness.

Scared for you, maybe. Try your best not to get distracted by my skills. By this point, she already knew about my tough guy act and how paper-thin it actually was. But she still humored me. Yeah, yeah, you just try your best to keep up. Can't have my diving buddy passing out on me, can I? Promise to give me mouth-to-mouth if I do?

She'd just rolled her eyes at me and fixed her regulator in place before jumping in ahead of me. I remember sending a silent prayer to God, sure that my first dive would be my last. But what actually happened during that first dive was even more jarring. All the theories and swimming pool practice dives came nowhere near close to the real thing,

suspended in the water. the entire ocean around me. It was terrifying for sure, but it was also surreal. The farther down we went, the deeper we were swallowed into the alien world of the ocean. All around us, life bloomed in inexplicable ways. Dozens of small rainbow-hued fish darted through the coral, while bleach white clams probed at the water for food, and small crabs picked at the detritus, caught in the rocky crevices snaking through the reef.

Sunlight reflected off a yellowfin tuna's mirror-like scales, and sand sharks skirted the sandy seabed in a dance that the whole ocean seemed to know. I felt like an astronaut, thrown into a zero-gravity environment with creatures that couldn't be about our world. The deep blue surrounded me The only sound in my ears The even hiss of my regulator Interspersed with the thrum of my own heartbeat We spent hours in the water

Coming up to trade out our empty tanks for full ones And diving back in with the water crashing around us Ness waved me over at one point To throw me a weird, organic-looking cylinder Sitting on a rock I realized that it was a CQ at the same moment that Vanessa chose to poke it. Going into defense mode, the damn thing spewed out all of its insides.

And I almost drowned myself in an attempt to get away from it. And I could tell that Vanessa was trying her best not to laugh so hard that she'd also drown. I couldn't be mad at her. I was in too deep. And I definitely couldn't be mad after she kissed me later. that day. When we finished diving for the day, our legs wobbled from overuse,

our backs stiff from the exertion of many hours underwater. But our eyes matched in uncontrollable happiness. The sun was starting to set in deep reds and oranges over the water as the gentle waves tapped against the boat's hull.

June? I almost couldn't hear her over the seagulls squawking overhead. I turned to look at her, sitting only inches away from each other. Yeah? What's up? I was suddenly very nervous from the way she glanced at my lips. When she leaned forward, closing her eyes, I closed the distance while trying to keep my heart from stalling out. That first dive was indescribable, but our dive last month was indescribable for a completely different reason. It took us a bit of trial and error to finally find the best diving spot, but when we did, we wasted no time getting into our gear. After our buddy check, we anchored

the boat and started our dive. The area we were in wasn't too deep, only about 60 feet. down at the lowest, and there was plenty of sea life to watch as we made our way to our destination. Getting to our destination was always my favorite part of diving. As we swam, we slowly passed dozens of different sharks, jellies, schools of fish, and even some diving birds. We took our time looking for the rock formations we were after, enjoying the shared silence between us and the blue tint of everything around us. Unable to talk, but able to communicate with our hands and eyes. We'd been under for about 20 minutes when we saw something appear far off in the distance.

We both assumed it was what we'd come here to find. But for some reason, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were wrong. I ignored it because I'm naturally prone to anxiety. but I really shouldn't have. As we swam toward the indistinct shape ahead of us, dragging ourselves against the water that pulled at us, the blob came into focus. First, an ambiguous, grayish form.

It resolved into straight lines and geometric shapes. Ness and I came to a halt at the same time. I'm sure she was having as hard a time as I was processing the impossibility in front of us. A weird feeling gripped me. It was a feeling I hadn't felt in over a decade when I was a kid who surprisingly loved climbing trees. Somehow, heights never really scared me.

One time during the summer, when I was six, I was climbing the tall white oak tree near my house when I misstepped and put my weight on a thin branch that snapped under my foot. I wasn't even halfway up the tree and the fall was only about 15 feet. But on my way down, I got caught on dozens of sharp branches and when I reached the ground I landed badly. It took my brain a good 30 seconds of processing the shock before I felt the pain and understood what was sticking out of my shin and suspended 20 feet underwater surrounded by the vastness, surrounded by the vastness, of the ocean. That was the feeling that trapped me

for an indeterminate amount of time. Even when my brain finished analyzing the information being sent to it, I couldn't get myself to accept what was in front of me. It was a house. A single-story house, deep brown shingles,

covered an angled roof, powder-blue painted windows matched a door of the same color. Burgundy bricks lined the bottom of the walls and transitioned to white paneling halfway up. Patches of seaweed grew around the front of the house, an imitation lawn. There was even a brick chimney attached to the side of the house, completing the picture of domesticity. It was a perfectly normal, comfortable-looking home, except for the fact that it was sitting at the bottom of the ocean, 60 feet below the water's surface.

The house looked undisturbed by the seawater or by any wandering sea creatures. Fish swam around the building and through the windows, which were apparently open, and seemed to be completely unaware of how weird this whole thing was. The fish treated the house like it might as well have been a pile of rock and coral. I suddenly felt very exposed out in the middle of open water with only this fucking house in our immediate surroundings

the blue of the ocean stretched out in all directions blue shifting to near black in the distance I didn't really have any desire to understand what was happening or why and I just wanted to swim away as fast as possible back the way we came But when I looked over at Ness to signal my intentions, she was already swimming toward the house, because of course she was.

When it comes to unexplainable things begging to be understood, she's the first one to go barreling at them full force. The sound of my breaths through my regulator filled my ears as I watched Ness get closer and closer to the house. Without her next to me, the vast ocean surrounding me, and the water, pressing in on my body, made me feel like I was stuck in an invisible box. I had to remind myself to keep breathing because I tend to hold my breath when I'm stressed out. But that can be near lethal during a dive.

The changing water pressure can have some nasty effects on your lungs. As I reminded myself to keep breathing, Ness kept propelling herself forward, her fins cutting currents through the water. If I could speak, I'd have told her I was going to leave without her if she didn't turn around and get back over to me. But I couldn't. And without her looking at me, I couldn't use hand signals to tell her how badly I wanted to turn tail and forget I ever saw the things she was eagerly swimming toward. I should have tried harder to get her to forget about the house.

But at the time, I didn't see any other options available to me. So I willed my legs to push me forward after Vanessa. As much as I dreaded getting close to it, the house didn't really feel dangerous. Weird and misplaced and unsettling, sure, but not threatening, especially because the nearby sea creatures didn't seem to have any problem with it. Maybe that's why I lowered my guard and didn't try convincing Vanessa to love. leave. But as I swam up beside Ness, I still hoped that the door would be locked when she reached for the doorknob. The door was unlocked. Ness took that as an invitation to slip through the doorway,

and I barely had the chance to think of stopping her before she was already through the open door and into the space beyond it. As much as I tried to rationalize the building's existence, I still really, really didn't want to go in after her. Even if she and all the fish in the sea thought that this was a totally innocuous thing to find sitting on the seabed, I still wanted nothing to do with it. But a school of sardines rushed the doorway, practically pulling me in with them,

and before I knew it, I was floating in the center of the room past the door. It looked like a living room. perfectly average and equipped with a matching set of floral patterned couches. The walls were painted a yellow that looked green through the water. The sun filtered in through the windows to cast shifting patches of light on the beige carpet covering the floor. There was even a TV set facing the couches. The remote sitting on a wooden coffee table, along with a stack of disintegrating books and a decorative flower-shaped candle.

Picture frames line the walls, but whatever images they once held had been erased by the harsh seawater. A thresher shark drifted lazily along the carpeted floor, reminding me of my parents' ancient dachshund pepper. The sight of it actually calmed my nerves a bit. The shark's undulating movements enthralled me enough to make me forget where I was for a minute.

But the minute passed, and I was catapulted back into reality. The walls around me seemed to slowly squeeze in. I took in the details of the room from my high vantage point, floating high enough to be a few feet from touching anything. I'd been hoping, perhaps foolishly, that the house would be empty, with no rooms or walls or anything to divide the space inside. I was hoping for the building to be bland and boring enough that Vanessa would be more than willing to leave.

I wasn't surprised that I'd been wrong, but seeing the fully furnished living room did something weird to my chest, and I once again had to remind myself to keep breathing. I nearly pissed myself when I saw something poke out from the entryway of the opposite end of the room. But I was relieved to find that it was Ness. waving me over with movements that screamed excitement.

I wanted her to see how not happy I was to be there, but if she noticed, she chose to ignore it. Still careful not to touch anything, I drifted over to her, trailing behind her as she led me down the hall. We passed open doors to fully furnished rooms. The bathroom even had a toothbrush and a holder set on the sink, before the hall opened up into a kitchen. This room, too, was fully furnished.

A granite-topped island sat in the center of the room, over which a set of pans and pots hung from hooks attached to the ceiling. An oven-microwave duo was set in one wall, the other walls lined by wooden cabinets that matched the floor, and a chrome refrigerator bordered the room. I didn't check to see if the fridge had any food in it. I didn't want to know, but that wasn't the room she wanted to show me. As she led me deeper into the house, the nagging feeling in my chest just grew stronger.

I knew that something felt off. However, when we passed through the kitchen into a room that had to be the dining room, the feeling left me all at once. The room we were suspended in, Took my breath away, much like the house itself did. This was for an entirely different reason, though. Glass cabinets displaying crystal dishware hugged two opposite walls. The angles cut into the crystal reflecting and refracting light across the room.

An ornate chandelier sat in the center of the ceiling, suspended above a fully set glass-taught dining. table. And directly in front of us, behind the dining table, was a wall made entirely of windows that let light pass freely into the room and off the hundreds of reflective surfaces within. The room lit up with the shine of a million diamonds, sparkling under the shifting light like handfuls of glitter. Outside the windowed wall we could see into the ocean, the occasional school of fish tumbling by in a frenzy. It was stunning, and I didn't even notice how my built-up tension

seemed to slip away the longer we floated in the room. Vanessa squeezed my hand, and I squeezed back. The both of us, awed by the dancing lights. around us. For some time, we just drifted around the room, facing the ceiling, watching the lights jump across the white backdrop. We'd gone stargazing more times than I can count, but the magic of that space seemed to condense all of those late-night trips to the park into a single, breathtaking moment.

After a while, we floated out of the room. The residual enchantment of the room made. making me feel weightless. We eventually came to what I guessed was the master bedroom. The room was inviting. Large windows sat behind a canopyed, queen-sized bed whose headboard lay against the wall to our right. The bed was dressed in varying shades of red

and would have looked extremely comfortable, if not for the seawater that soaked through the fabric. The burgundy-tool canopy swayed in the wall. water, reminding me of jellyfish tentacles. At this point, I'd pretty much forgotten how much I hated the house. Vanessa and I looked at each other, and I was the one who signaled to approach the bed. I could tell she was smiling around her regulator, as she nodded vigorously and pulled me towards it. When we were floating above the mattress, facing the canopy, we adjusted our BCDs and sunk down slowly, until our air tank slightly touched the bedsheets.

I turned my head to look at her, and my heart squeezed at the look she was giving me. She stared at me, a smile in her green eyes clear as spring water, even through the plastic of her mask. Her hair floated in the water, making her look ethereal. A mermaid among common treas. out. The light spilling from the window caught in her hair, lighting up the strands as bright as fire coral. She was tracing over my face with her eyes the same way I was, and I couldn't help the happy puffs of laughter bubbling through my regulator. We stayed like that for a minute or two. Just content to share the moment. But then her face shifted to the space behind me.

I saw a number of emotions passed through what I could see of her face, confusion, shock, and something else entirely. I watched as her eyes widened further than I've ever seen them, and I understood the emotion that now controlled her features, fear. My heart lodged itself in my throat and I froze in place. Suddenly all the tension that I'd left back in the crystal and dining room rushed back to me with force. I'd never seen that kind of unbridled terror from her before. Not even when a robber broke into our store one night and held a gun to her head. And just the sight of it sent a jolt of anxiety through my body.

My mind blanked, and I couldn't even begin to consider what to do, to wonder what was even happening. But Vanessa was quick to move, always ready to react to bad situations, and she grabbed my wrist to pull me toward the door. Her grip on me was vice-like, her nails digging into me through the sleeve of my wetsuit. I furiously kicked my legs through the water, desperate not to slow her down with my weight. But you can only move so quickly when the ocean's pressing into you from all directions. When she noticed that I was struggling to swim with her hand on my wrist,

She let go, and we pushed our way through the dining room. The room felt different somehow. The rays reflecting off the thousand crystal surfaces burned my eyes. The sunlight now harsh were before it had been beautiful. I squinted against the beams of light as I swam after Ness. When we got to the kitchen, my eyes struggled to adjust. But when they did, I noticed details I'd somehow missed before. The wallpaper was ripped in places.

The granite countertop gouged with deep cuts across its surface. As we entered the living room, grotesque with its rotten egg walls and gaudy floral prints, a chance to glance behind me into the hallway. I thought I saw some vague movement at the kitchen doorway, but I only had a second to look before we were through the front door and back out into the open sea. Even though we were out of the building and slowly expanding the distance between us and it, Ness didn't slow down even a little bit.

She kept her eyes dutifully ahead of her, not looking at me. And my heart was still racing from the adrenaline. My mind had finally caught up with me, and I was terrified of whatever Vanessa saw, even though I still had no idea what it was. So I turned my head to look back at the house, which was now fading back into the vague, lob it had been when we first saw it. But now there was another smaller, indiscernible shape that was moving away from the house and towards us.

I really couldn't make out any details, but it was definitely moving towards us. It was still a long way off, but I could tell that it was moving faster than we were. I was suddenly terrified that we disturbed a tiger shark or something when we went through the house. But if it was a shark or anything similar, I'm positive that it would have caught us before we even made it out the front door. My breath hitched, and I set my eyes back in front of me toward Vanessa. My legs were burning from the exertion, but I wanted to get back to our boat as quickly as possible. I wanted to ask Ness what she saw, but it's not like we really had any time to waste going up to the surface to chat. We just needed to get to the boat and debrief there.

We swam in solitude for a while, neither of us trying to communicate with the other. I could tell that Ness was still shaken up, but I couldn't confront her. And I was still turning the house around in my head. The more I thought about it, the less it seemed possible that the building just appeared there by chance. I didn't and still don't understand why it was sitting there on the seafloor, and the whole thing was so bizarre that I don't know if we just called it. collectively hallucinated the whole thing, but the regulator hissed in my ears as my breath bubbled out into the water. I tried not to fear for the worst, but we were both aware of something that neither of us wanted to acknowledge.

We weren't sure where we were. Sure, our dive computers told us which way was north, but our trajectory got messed up during our escape from whatever we were escaping from, and neither of us realized it until we'd already been swimming for who knows how long. Even though we were heading in the right general direction, there was no telling how long it'd be until we were anywhere near our boat. And so there was the issue of air to worry about. We'd only brought enough air for two, three hours tops.

It was meant to be a quick dive, just scoping out the area. And according to the pressure gauge, on my tank, I'd already blown through over half of my air supply. There was no way we'd been under for that long, but I was definitely breathing more rapidly while we were in the house. I just didn't realize how rapidly that was. I knew that Vanessa was probably dealing with the same problem, and I caught her attention as we kept swimming. I pressed the index and middle finger of my right hand to the open palm of my left, signaling that I wanted to know how much oxygen she had left. But as she was checking her pressure gauge, my eyes wondered to the sea floor.

I stared in disbelief at the new impossibility before my eyes. Walking along the sandy floor of the ocean, as normal as if it was a leisurely midsummer stroll through the park, was a man. Just, just some regular-looking guy in a t-shirt and jeans with a completely unremarkable face that could have belonged to any random passerby, except that we were still in the ocean. And this random passer-by,

with his hands in his pockets and his head tilted up to smile at us as he approached us from below, was walking through the water as if he was on land rather than the bottom of the fucking ocean. There was no wonder that he was able to catch up to us. If the house was bizarre, this man made me seriously question my sanity. There was a disconnect between the wires in my brain.

I couldn't rationalize this. Couldn't convince myself that the past hour had just been some dive-related illness. I was stuck balking at the man, so he just stared at us. And the way he was smiling at us, God, it was completely blank. His face plastered into the most fake-looking grin I'd ever seen. He was like a Watts doll, only 20 times worse, because he was moving and smiling and following us.

He didn't even blink. Just walked forward at an even pace and measured footsteps, his hair sitting perfectly flat against his head. I thought I could see his mouth begin to move, but fuck if I was going to watch him any longer and try to make out the words. And as I started turning back to Ness, I noticed his footsteps changing slightly. Instead of walking in a flat line,

he started taking steps upward like there was an invisible staircase in front of him this time I actually did piss my pants this time though I was also able to move I grabbed Ness's wrist just long enough to get her to start swimming we pulled our way through the water refusing to slow down even a little it felt like we were pulling ourselves through molasses but I didn't dare look behind me, didn't consider how much oxygen I was wasting by heaving and pushing

my body past exhaustion. The adrenaline kept me from registering any pain in my lungs or limbs, kept my mind running quicker than my legs kicking through the water. My mind wanted so badly to understand what was happening, but nothing could justify what was happening. I lost track of time, torn between my racing thoughts and my moving body. I prayed, and prayed for our boat to appear along the surface of the water. But it didn't. No matter how much I silently begged, no matter how many tears collected in my mask and fogged up the plastic.

I just kept pushing forward. Past unaware fish and patches of seaweed, the only thought racing through my head screaming at me to get back to the boat. The adrenaline started wearing off, and I could feel the weight. of my limbs, hindering my movement. The pain laced through my body, finally caught up with me,

and my furious swimming devolved into a dead man's float. My oxygen tank was running dangerously low. I was waiting for the man to catch me. But then, finally, miraculously, I saw the boat. We made it. I made a final post. pushed toward the boat, turning around to bask with Ness in our victory when we were only a couple

feet from the boat. The sea around me was vast, filled with life. The man was gone. But so was Vanessa. From where I was, I could see a mile out in all directions. But I was the only one there. I tried telling myself that she was just a bit behind, that she'd catch up to me. and we'd hug and kiss and celebrate this together.

But that's not what happened. I hate myself, because it's me who left her behind when I swore I'd keep her safe. I don't think I even told her that I love her before we started the dive. And that was a month ago. When I got to the boat,

I immediately called the Coast Guard and begged them to find Vanessa. They scoured the seafloor, combing the ocean for any trace of her. The search radius was much wider than the distance Ness and I traveled that day. I didn't ask the Coast Guard if they found the house or the man, and I somehow figure that no one would be able to find them even if they were trying, unless I'm the one looking.

Because, you see, they've been calling to me. And I know, I know, I didn't believe it at first either. After a couple weeks of meetings with police, reporters, and Vanessa's family, I tried my best to be functional again. I carried the guilt with me wherever I went, but I still needed to pay my bills and do the things that humans do, even if I was doing it mechanically. Even if people recognized me on the street and gave me suspicious looks wherever I went. But about a week ago, something happened. I was walking home from an overnight work shift when I saw him. He was sitting on a bench across the street.

Jeans, t-shirts, smile, and all. When I tried looking at him directly, he disappeared. So I passed it off as a result of exhaustion. I hadn't been sleeping well. A couple days after that, though, I was walking through town in the afternoon. As I walked down the line of storefronts, a powder-blue-tinged reflection caught my eye. From my periphery, I thought I could see a brick chimney and white paneling. But, like the man, it disappeared when I looked directly at it.

I was ready to call a psychologist about my hallucinations. Before I made the call, though, I started seeing them. The house and the man everywhere. Two days ago, I stared at the man. He was standing in an aisle of my store for a solid minute before he disappeared. This wasn't exactly enough to convince me not to call the doctor. But then, I saw her. Her smile was just like I remembered it.

And I think it all means something. I think I'm being given a second chance to save her. So, I'm going to fix this. I've already gathered my gear and my boat's waiting at the dock. I don't expect anyone to believe me about any of this, but I have to believe that Vanessa's still out there waiting for me. And as long as that's a possibility, I can't bring myself to abandon her again.

I love her. And I hope more than anything that loves enough. The spells are wearing off for now, but the magic will linger. The shop will be open again next week with more spells to enchant you. 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. This audio production is copyright 2020 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.