The NoSleep Podcast - NoSleep Podcast S14E19

Episode Date: June 21, 2020

It’s Episode 19 of Season 14. This week we conjure spells for you about the dangers of getting out and about. “Stand by the Tree” written by A. C. McAnelly (Story starts around 00:04:30) TRIGGER WARNING! Produced by: Phil Michalski Cast: Narrator – Sarah Ruth Thomas, Narrator’s Mom – Erin Lillis, Riley – Erika Sanderson, Hamadryad – Jessica McEvoy “A Hand of Glory for Fun and Profit” written by Jeff Miller (Story starts around 00:29:00) Produced by: Jeff Clement Cast: The Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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Better help can offer that helping hand. So 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 the dangers of getting out and about. We weave for you our darkest fair, tales both wild and manic. We hope for you a chill they bring with nightmares, fear, and panic. Of horrors deep, of chilling moods and angst so dark and tragic, all that's left is but to say now, close your eyes and embrace the magic. In our first tale, we meet a mother and her two daughters who are making an extra effort to visit grandma regularly. It's nice catching up with elderly relatives, even if they're not doing so well. But in this tale, shared with us by author

A. C. McAnally, it's when the family goes to leave that the strangeness begins. Performing this tale are Sarah Thomas, Aaron Lillis, Erica Sanderson, and Jessica McAvoy. So pay attention to the rituals your daughters are engaging in. They might seem totally harmless, but there's a reason Grandma's getting anxious, especially when she sees her granddaughter stand by the tree. Riley had stood by the tree every afternoon all summer and fall. At first, she didn't really know what it was and wanted to explore, like any three-year-old would. She ran her hands over the bark and picked at sticks while she stood by it. She might have even talked to it a few times, which would explain the events leading up to that horrible night. I remember the dilemma, the reason she stood

by the tree. The tree stood in my mother's yard, and we visited frequently. We would sit in her garden, help her plant the seeds or repot her cooking greens. The girls loved it. We were so happy to spend time with my mother, especially after her cancer scare. Eight weeks of radiation hadn't gotten rid of the tumor, just shrunk it. But a miracle happened during the last scan that showed no tumor at all. We were so thankful. After that, we started visiting my mother even more. Most days, I walked the girls out by myself when we were ready to go home. With mom in remission, I didn't want to pain her. I loaded Lily in her car seat before we stepped outside, ready to take her to the truck and just place the seat in the base. Riley would walk beside me.

I hated Riley standing by the truck as I loaded Lily, but I also hated putting Lily on the ground while I buckled Riley in. One day, Riley found a compromise. Riley pointed to the lone hickory tree in the front yard. Tree? It had mulch around it, outlined in red bricks with a few out of place from lack of care. She liked to touch it to feel the roughness of the bark.

I nodded in agreement. Okay, yeah. Go ahead, but stay there while I put Lily in the truck. She ran off to the tree with her daycare backpack bouncing back and forth. As I walked to the truck, she climbed over the bricks into the mulch. For about ten seconds, I couldn't see her while I put Lily in. Thankfully, Lily's car seat base was easy. I just had to throw her seat in at a certain angle,

and the base would latch on with several clicks. Then I would be right back around and ready to grab Riley and put her in. All right, Riley, your turn. Riley poked her head around the tree to look at me, but giggled as she snapped back out of view. You better come here, or I'm going to get you. I let her run once around the tree, the mulch crunching beneath her feet,

before I scooped her in my arms and tickled her as I walked to the truck. Her laugh could instantly heal my soul on a bad day. She never fought me to get in the truck if I let her go to the tree first, so we made it our afternoon routine. As we walked out of my mom's house, Riley would run to the tree and stand there until I was done putting Lily in. My mom didn't like it, though. She's going to get hurt one of these times. Just let me help.

But she loves playing around that tree. Worse case scenario, she falls and hits the mulch, maybe the bricks. But she'll be fine. My mother wasn't convinced. She made a point to stand on her porch steps and watch since I wouldn't let her help. All that summer and fall, that's what we did, until eventually my mom only sometimes stepped out to watch. Daylight savings time contributed to that horrible night. All during the fall semester of the school year, when I reached moms at five in the evening, the sun would still be in the western sky.

That winter, however, when time changed, the sun was down by five. The sky would still be pink and orange with its rays, but twilight would be a blue. upon us. I didn't know the darkness mattered. I had no way of knowing, except for my mother. She had tried to warn me. She was washing dishes as I hand dried them. She didn't even look up from her sink. Don't let Riley stand by that tree after dark. That tree can hurt her. Her tone made me take her seriously. How, Mom? She was quiet for a moment. She could scrape her knee or cut her arm or worse, crack her skull open on the bricks. I don't know why you don't get rid of those bricks anyway.

Rocks would be more organic to hold the mulch in. I don't disturb that tree. I know Riley doesn't really disturb it either, but she needs to be careful around it and not be messing in the dark on it. All right, Mom. You and the girls are all I have left. Gotta take care of each other. Yeah, yeah.

She was feeling sappy, and I wanted no part of it. I tried to stay away from talking about the past and just move on. The girls and I all need to be leaving soon. Mom nodded. You finish up dishes, will I give goodbye lovins then? I plunged my hands into the dingy sink water, while my mom walked into the living room. Riley was coloring with creolas, and Lily was in her bouncer. Mom took Lily out of her bouncer and let her draw with Riley.

Riley was good about Sherry. but Lily would rather stick the crayon in her mouth. No, no, sissy. Riley was good at protecting Lily. She was never jealous. Riley was very patient with me when it came to Lily meeting me. I had two amazing kids. That night, I thought I was down to one.

We ready to leave. I had Lily in the car seat, and Riley had my other hand as we walked down the porch stairs. My mom returned to the kitchen to hand-dry the dishes I finished washing. Tree? I'm sorry, baby, not tonight. I held her hand tight as we walked towards the truck. Riley tugged on me.

Tree! No, baby. Now come on. I was almost to the truck when she tugged hard. Peace, ma'am. Peas! My heart melted. Riley said, please.

The year before, Riley had been struggling. to say certain words and religiously avoided them. Please was one of them. For her to be desperate enough to say please broke me. Okay, baby, but stay where I can see you. She smiled wide enough I couldn't see her eyes as she nodded and bound over to the tree. I made a point to move quicker than usual getting Lily in. As I heard the click of the car seat into its base, I heard Riley thud on the ground. Her crying didn't follow. Riley? I shut the door and walked around the truck enough to see her. Riley sat in the mulch with her arm stretched out towards me. Boopoo, mom. That's when I saw it. I couldn't see it clearly in the dark, but the porch light caught one side of it.

A figure stood behind her, tall and lanky, with arms like tree branches. Head was the wrong word for what sat atop its body, but I couldn't clearly make out what it was. It didn't matter. All that mattered was it was something that shouldn't be there and should not be that close to my daughter. It happened in seconds. I bolted around the truck, screaming Riley's name. Riley never saw it. Her eyes were fixated on me until the thing wrapped an arm around her waist. She didn't have time to get a full scream out, and in a blink I realized I wouldn't make it to her in time. All I could do was try to follow. It lifted her as it stepped behind the tree into the dark.

No, not behind the tree. Oh, dear God, it was pulling her into the tree. Her scream was cut off by her body disappearing into the trunk. I watched as the bark enveloped her, branches creaking and leaves wrestling with the movement. I reached out as I ran towards her, but it had already taken her all in. My body slammed hard into the tree as I tried frantically. to follow. I pulled at the bark, scratching until my nails bled. I was still in shock, but I had to try to get her back. Riley! Tears streamed down my face, blurring my vision,

but I kept at the tree. Oh God, please give her back. Tell me what to do. I'll do anything. Just give her back, please. Move. I recognized it was my mother speaking, but I kept shredding the tree bark. I was numb to the pain of it, so when she pushed me over, I didn't realize she had until I could no longer see the tree. I laid parallel to the ground for a moment, until I regained some composure to tell my mom what happened. Something took her inside that damned tree! I know, baby.

I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I warned you to keep her away. I noticed then that my mother had a dagger in her left hand. The Hamadriad took her. The what? Hamadryad. The Hickory Hamadriad. It showed up one night, and I've been taking care of it.

It's the reason the garden is as beautiful as it is. It's the reason I'm in remission. I was momentarily focused on the reality of this thing. I've been here a thousand times. Why haven't I ever seen it before? It only comes out at night if it's offered something. I usually give it small rodents. The offering ensures the Hamadriads work on me and the land.

It saw Riley as an offering. Why the hell would you keep something that would hurt anybody? It just took your granddaughter! She lifted the dagger over her head and raised her opposite arm. I know, but I'll get her back. She sliced her palm open with the weapon. And when I do, you immediately need to raise it. I had been thinking about destroying it for a long time.

But it's just like a bear, just trying to live. She smeared her bloody hand against the tree. Almost immediately, the tree reacted. The branches swayed in ways they shouldn't have. Its branches and trunk turned towards my mother and hunched over her. It creaked as the tree opened to make way for the Hamadriads' head. I saw it clearly in the porch light. It was a clump of twigs grown over each other in a spherical shape.

Two small fingers of the twigs left holes that looked like eye sockets, but there were no eyes. I froze at the sight of it, scared for my mother, but couldn't do anything. Give her back. Take this instead. Pound for pound. My mother sliced down her forearm and held it out to the creature. I didn't understand her intent until I heard her words. I started to cry again. No, there has to be another way.

My mother looked to me. It's my fault to atone for. destroy it once Riley is back. I love you. The creature grabbed my mother's arms with its branches. It leaned its head down, seeming to sniff her blood. A leaf bent down from the mass of twigs and ran itself along her arm. My God, the leaf was its tongue.

It was tasting her blood. This offering is always for the girl. Its voice was very raspy and guttural. I could hear sticks rubbing against each other as it spoke, as if sticks were its vocal cords. I understand. The tree went still for a moment, pondering what to do. It turned its head and sighed. That's when it hit me.

In its own sick way, the thing cared for my mother. After months of her taking care of it, I'm sure it saw her as its source of preservation, a nurturer. It didn't want to take her. Pound for pound! It pulled her in towards the tree, but not completely. The wounded arm and the opposite leg disappeared into the bark. I had never heard my mother scream like that. It broke me from my fear, and I went to her.

I reached around her waist and pushed myself against her back. If I started to feel her being pulled in, I was going to pull back. I was going to pull back. I was afraid pulling immediately would just hurt her more. The creature was only taking pieces of her. How much would be left, and if she could survive from her wounds, was left to be seen. I held my mother as she screamed, and I screamed with her. The creature released my mother, and we fell back into the mulch and bricks.

With one arm secured around my mom, I backpedaled us a few more feet away, but I had to see. I had to see if my Riley came back. It was quiet again. The tree turned back to its natural stance, gently rustling, less creaking than before. Then? Nothing. No sound.

No movement. I couldn't wait. I stepped back up to the tree, pounding on the trunk. Where's my daughter? Give me my... I felt the throbbing mass of pain that was my hands now. I stopped pounding them into the tree and just fell forward against it.

I turned as I let myself collapse to the ground against it. I held my hands up to my face and laid my head in them. My mother was in front of me, bleeding out on the ground, and my daughter was still gone. For the first time since it all started, I heard Lily crying in the truck. I don't know how long she had been crying or how much she slept through. I turned my head to look towards Lily in the truck and I saw Riley sitting on the ground

leaned against the tire Riley! I got to my feet and ran over to her I picked her up and she immediately jolted awake I chuckled with relief as I started to cry all over again I held her and rocked her for a moment she hugged me back

like the sweetheart she was Tree? I turned to look at the tree really look at the tree. There was more creaking, but it wasn't moving like it had before. This time, it was growing. The branches and trunk all grew at an alarming rate,

gaining at least five feet in height, and the branches now reached into the neighbor's yard. No, baby, no more tree. I buckled her in the car and then rummaged through the diaper bag and grabbed one of Lily's onesies. I went back to my mother. She was pale from the loss of blood, but still conscious. Her arm was gone from the shoulder,

but her leg was only taken a few inches above the knee. I took my shirt off and tied it around her leg. I put the onesie in my mom's remaining hand and forced it against her bleeding shoulder. Hold it as tight as you can until I come back. I ran off into the garage. I grabbed the gas can for the tiller. Thankfully, it still had some gas.

I turned to the small propane grill in the corner. There was a long neck lighter beside it. I grabbed it and one of the metal spatulas hanging off the grill and ran back out into the front yard. My hands shook, but I still flicked it on with ease and held the spatula over it. The flame burned long and bright. I moved it around all the edges of the spatula

until the flames licked the metal black. I leaned down and removed the onesie from Mom's shoulder. Brace yourself. I pressed the spatula against her arm. She only moaned in pain this time. Her energy spent. I had to hurry. The spatula did its job.

The bleeding didn't stop, but it slowed. I put the onesie back over it, picked up the gas tank, and headed towards the tree. I took the spout off the gas can and threw the gas onto the trunk. It took a few times to empty it all, but I managed to do it in seconds. I reignited the lighter I bent down to place the lighter against the mulch Before the lighter touched down The Hamadry had reached out and grabbed my hand

I looked up and found myself face to face with it I met its empty eyes I refused to look away I needed it to see it wouldn't stop me Even if it never let me go and I burned up with it It wouldn't stop me Say goodbye to the tree, Riley. Bye, tree.

It tightened its grip on my wrist, but not soon enough. I dropped the lighter into the mulch. Before the lighter went out, it sparked the ground and spread quickly. The hamadry had screeched and let me go. I stumbled away, back to my mother. I went to my mother. She was shaking, stone cold and pale. I put pressure on her shoulder.

I finally had the presence of mind to come. call the cops, but apparently a neighbor had already called. I held my mother in my lap. I'm sorry, I didn't listen to you. I'm so sorry. Not your fault. I shouldn't have taken care of it. I should have known this would happen. I thought it would be the last time I spoke to her, so I hugged her tight, her blood sticking to my skin. I love you so much. Thank you for getting Riley Beth, she will know your sacrifice. She will know how much you love her. What? You think I'm dying? Please, this is just a flesh wound. The cops were in the yard now. Their blue and white lights blinded me as they pulled up. I heard screaming, but couldn't make it out.

I was too focused on my mother, on her smiling face as she slowly lost. consciousness. Cops pulled her away from me as they called the ambulance. One sat with her, and another was trying to ask me what happened. But I was an inconsolable wreck, and I couldn't answer any questions. I just went to my girls. The cop escorted me to my truck, where I told him my girls were waiting. I sat and held them while we waited for the ambulance to get there and haul my mom off. The cops followed. I was the last one to leave. I looked one more time at the tree. At this point, I couldn't hear the screaming anymore.

And if the cops ever heard it, then they just mistook it for something else. I didn't see any movement other than the flames. And for an instant, I thought I saw its head and one arm reaching out to me. Then it was gone. Some miracles saved my mother, despite her massive blood loss. She swore it was the Hamadriads' life. last offering to her as a way to make amends. It disturbed me that she would put it in such a positive light, but I let it go.

The next afternoon, I finished the job and took an axe to what remained of the tree. I even dug up the roots. I wanted no part of that thing left in one piece. I convinced my mother to move in with the girls and I, but that still wasn't far enough away. We decided to move back to the city, where the trees were forced. few and far between. Still, the girls stayed around the play equipment at the park, never went into the trees. And if they were on a field trip somewhere outside, I offered to chaperone. I didn't want the girls to live in fear, but I still felt a chill wash over me if the trees swayed

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So remember, that's trycaliper.com slash no sleep. And don't forget promo code no sleep for 20% off your first order. On episode seven of this season, we presented the story, The Black Bag Job. In this sequel to that story, our locksmith for hire hides out at his apartment, waiting for the repercussions after meddling in the supernatural. When nothing happens, he begins to look for work once more. And as shared with us by author Jeff Miller, he's offered a particularly difficult job, break into a police station's evidence locker and remove evidence of an apparent drug deal. Performing this tale are Atticus Jackson, Aaron Lillis, Mick Wingert, and Nicole Doolin. So join our locksmith as he tries his luck. After all, he does have that special new tool he acquired. So let's listen,

as he uses a hand of glory for fun and profit. It's been a while since we spoke, so let me catch you up. See, I was hired by this creepy fellow in an orange hoodie to crack a safe in a bizarre jewel heist. I had to wear a black bag with no eye holes the entire time. Weird, right? Unfortunately, it didn't quite follow his directions to the letter. See, I opened the bag I was supposed to steal, because I could tell it wasn't full of jewels. Yeah, yeah, I know. Curiosity killed the cat and all that. Whatever. You weren't there. It was a fucked up situation. You don't like it? You can sue me.

Anyway, it was full of marbles, and each one had the severed head of a plastic action figure in bed. better than side. I thought it was weird, but, hey, I got paid, so I didn't think much of it, until one of them kept turning up in my stuff, even though I had never touched any of them. I threw it down a sewer, I busted it up with a hammer, even melted it in a pan. The marble didn't care. It kept turning up. Shit got really dark, and before it was all over, some woman who spoke through the mouths of other people. Not just people. She talked through other stuff too.

It tickle me Elmo. A fast food drive-thru. Sorry, I'm getting sidetracked. I never met her in person. And she scared the shit out of me. She wasn't all bad. Without her help, the guy in the orange hoodie would have carved me up like a standing roast. It was pretty fucked up.

Especially when I received a box the next morning at my apartment. It contained a moth-eaten, orange hoodie and a candle made from the left hand of the hoodie's late owner that still wore his cheap class ring. To top it all off, my new boss also included the node on flowered stationary, telling me that she had big plans for me. I burned the hoodie and safely stored the candle hand, which I later learned is more properly called a hand of glory, and I hold up in my apartment for a few weeks, eating nothing but top ramen and overripe bananas. I never heard a peep. No talking dolls, no messages through the radio, no strange packages. Finally convinced the thread had lifted,

I burned through the sack of cash like an August brushfire. Every day was a party until I finally got a glimpse of the bottom of the bag and grudgingly put out the word I was available for work. After a couple of days, I got a lead from an acquaintance I'd known for years. Dear spooky old Maeve. Maeve works the night shift at a 24-hour coin-op laundromat. Usually these kinds of places don't hire an attendant, but the laundromat lies just over the invisible border that separates my generally safe neighborhood from one that's significantly more dangerous. Mave is security. She doesn't look like much, pale, short, thin, in her late 60s.

But don't think Maeve is some helpless old lady. She carries a switchblade in her purse. A teenager high on crystal tried to rob the place a few years back, and even though the little tweaker was strapped, he left the laundromat on a stretcher. Most of him anyway. That night I was the only soul there just after sundown, moving my load from the washer to the dryer. When Maeve walked in to start her shift.

My little locksmith, it's been a while. What? You've been washing your clothes in the sink? I started to answer, but she shushed me with the wave of her hand. Never mind. I hear you're looking for work. That's right. You got something for me? I might. She shuffled over to the bench and sat down next to me. We watched my laundry spin for a few minutes.

My boy got into some trouble. You have a son? If you get the guns and the coke out of the evidence room, you can keep the cash. Wait, what? It should be about $100,000. They busted him resupplying. Three pistols and AR-15 and two kilos of coke along with the cash. You can do this, right?

You want me to rob a police station? Not the whole thing. just the evidence room. You know, they don't just close the station up at night, right? But there's never a time it's not crawling with cops? Come on, I heard you worked with Mr. Scrappy. This should be easy. Dump a guy, dirty orange hoodie, or a baseball cap?

His name was Mr. Scrappy? Like, the garbage disposal? She shrugged dismissively. We were both quiet while my underwear made a half a dozen revolutions in the dryer. A hundred thousand is a lot of money, especially when you don't have to split it. But they'll probably move the cash from the evidence room to a more secure location downtown soon, so you should really get on it. And with that, Mave sat down behind her desk and cracked open a paperback.

When my laundry was done, I stuffed it in my bag and told her I'd let her know. Mave didn't look up. She just nodded. After I'd put away my laundry, I headed to my first. favorite Irish pub. But instead of playing darts with the boys, I took my pint from Ben and sat alone by a window to think. I checked my phone for stories about the bust. Dave wasn't lying. A 19-year-old kid named Nile Kelly had been arrested just the day before with a couple of Armenians I vaguely recognized. The cash, the cocaine, the guns, it all checked out. What I couldn't figure is

why a couple of dead-eyed gangsters were doing business with a kid who, so far as I knew, wasn't in the game. Where if he was, I never heard of him. I waved at Ben, and he came over to my spot with another pint. I showed him my phone. Ben, you ever see this kid around? He's definitely not old enough to drink. You're hilarious. Have you seen him?

Don't think so. Why? He missing or something? Yeah, police have them. Huge pile of cash, guns, and a couple kilos of coke. Trying to figure out while he was doing business with the Armenians. Huh. Figured they'd eat that scrawny little guy alive.

Must be more to him than it looks. By the way, you got anything for me? Not unless you want a third beer. I waved them away. He went back to wiping down the bar and watching the game. I knew that police station pretty well. I mean, I'm good at what I do, but after a while even a quiet crook like myself ends up on the local cop's radar. I'd been pulled in a few times for questioning, but they've never been able to charge me with anything.

Dave was right. It was a lot of money. And I did have that handy new toy from my boss, who, by the way, hadn't contacted me once since she sent along that little gift. Ben, give me a double shot at James. About an hour later, I was back at home sitting on the toilet, working up the nerve to open my safe. I could still feel the shots, but the liquid courage they had provided was gone. Fuck it. I removed the loose towel behind the tank. Flip the switch underneath and went to the kitchen, where I pushed the fridge away from the wall.

A panel on the backside was a jar, and behind it was a small safe. There was only one thing inside that particular safe. A severed hand with wicks protruding from all five fingers, and a gaudy class ring embedded in the appropriate digit. My hand of glory. I only had the faintest idea of how to use the thing. But for a hundred grand, I figured I could puzzle it out on the fly. First things first, I needed to run a test.

I set up my phone on the bookshed. shelf and set it to record video. Gingerly, I picked up the hand. I didn't like touching the thing. It was cold and waxy like a candle, but it also had the give and softness of flesh. Made me feel nauseous.

Grimmissing, I flicked my lighter and lit the thumbs wick. It bathed my living room in a sick pale yellow glow. In that putrid light, the world was hazy. and dim, like I was peering through a piece of gauze that had covered a seeping wound. By then, I felt downright sick to my stomach. But thinking about $100,000 cash helped me find the will to soldier own. I lit the other four digits, which heightened the effect, and stepped into my iPhone's frame. Unlike a normal candle, no wax dripped down the sides as the wick burned down, and it gave off no sense.

as it melted. I hadn't even let it burn a full minute before blowing it out, but the flames had consumed each finger halfway to the first bend. I picked up my phone and watched the video. It showed my living room, lit only by a floor lamp in the corner. After 50 seconds had passed, like magic, I appeared on screen. I grinned, slipped on my lucky Sandy Kofax jersey, and placed the hand of glory and a lighter in my tool bag. It was time to get to work. The precinct house was five blocks from my apartment, so I walked, which gave me time to think. It was a little after 1 a.m., and the street was deserted.

Given how fast my gruesome trinket had burned, I guessed I had 15, maybe 20 minutes max before it would be used up completely. I don't like working fast, but at least I wouldn't have to worry about being stealthy. I could see the surveillance cameras mounted outside the station. Working quickly while making sure I never ventured into their view, I lit all five wicks and jogged the main entrance. The candle flames never flickered. I stepped inside, leading with the candle, which filled the tiny reception area with its corpse light.

The officer behind the desk sat frozen, eyes unblinking, not even breathing so far as I could tell. So far, so good. Delicately, I reached through the window around the paralyzed cop to the back of the desk. Felt around for the button, pushed it, and heard the buzzer. Evidence was on the second floor across from the interrogation rooms, so after I slipped through the door, I made my way toward the stairwell past a series of offices, only a few of which were occupied.

Every so often, as I approached an open office door, I'd hear the clattering of a keyboard or a mumbled conversation, which ceased as soon as the light of my candle infected their space. I peeked inside a few, and the cops looked like wax museum statues. One had a cup of coffee to his lips mid-sip, and the steaming brown liquid poured down his chin. As soon as he was out of my line of sight, I heard a yelp, followed by a curse and shattering ceramics. I chuckled despite myself. The candle had burned down beyond the second bend of each finger, so I hustled up the stairs. The sign on the wall opposite the stairway door pointed left for evidence.

Walking briskly, I cleared the empty hallway and entered the evidence storage reception area. It too was deserted. Evidence is never deserted. I walked around behind the desk and saw the evidence inventory. database was up on the screen. The guns were in locker 413, and the coke and money in 343. They memorized the numbers. I also searched the desk for the keys, but, uh, no luck.

Well, that's why I brought my tools. The candle had lost its thumb, and the fingers were half-inch stubs. We'd be at the knuckles in a couple of minutes, so I knew I had to speed things up. Turns out, I didn't have to break into secure. evidence storage because the door was ajar, which, again, was not normal. So I entered the room, bleeding with the sickly glow of the candle. Something was rustling towards the back of the middle row of lockers. Without fear, I sought out the noise.

In the pale light, I saw what I assumed to be the evidence room officer convulsing on the floor, a package of white powder by her side. A penknife was beside her, and I could see a fine slit on one into the package through which ivory powder was leaking. My stomach suddenly felt as if it were full of sloshing ice water. Why was this poor woman not frozen in the light of my hand of glory? Maybe because she was unconscious? Hell, I didn't know the rules for this thing. In any case, she didn't seem to pose a threat.

While she gently thrashed on the floor, I took a closer look at the coke. I don't deal in drugs. The big shots in that business are a bunch of hair-trigger sociopaths, and the time you face if you fuck up is way too heavy for me. But I've still seen my fair share of cocaine. This was not cocaine. My mother had kept a huge vegetable garden, and had spent a lot of time tending it with her before she died.

so I know bone meal when I see it. And judging by the coarse white dust all over the convulsing cop's nose, she'd snorted a line. I guess she thought she needed a bump to make it through the night shift, but I didn't see how anyone could have confused this shit with coke. I'd also never heard of bone meal causing a seizure. But then again, I'd never known anyone who inhaled a snoot full of the stuff. But if the bones were old and hadn't been properly,

handled, I guessed consuming it could set up a nasty infection pretty quick. Plus, this powder was coarse. I imagine it could do some serious physical damage to the lungs. Behind the cop was an open locker and a shrink-wrapped package of cash. Strange-looking cash. Board game cash, to be exact. I checked the number of the locker, 343. I scanned the row, and locker 413 was just at the end.

other end, that lock was a scint to crack. It contained three toy pistols sporting orange plastic caps and a super-soaker rifle. It was at this point that my head began to feel all fucked up. I picked up one of the pistols with my free hand and looked it over. On the underside, symbols had been crudely scratched into the plastic. I'm not proud to say that I flinched at the sudden sound and dropped the toy. bullet embedded itself in the wall behind me. The toy gun was gone. A 22-caliber semi-automatic pistol lay where it should have been on the floor.

Its companions in the locker revealed themselves to be an AR-15, a snub-nosed 45, and a 38 revolver. I glanced over toward the cop, and it was clear even from this distance that the package was full of something that looked exactly like cocaine. The monopoly money had been replaced by genuine greenbacks. I calm myself down as best I could, and it just got my breathing under control when two officers burst through the doors, guns drawn. They froze as soon as they stepped into the candlelight. I threw up in my tool bag, messy, but I didn't want to leave any evidence, especially DNA.

Wiping my mouth, I saw that ugly class ring on the ground beside my... My shoe. The candle had finally consumed all four fingers, releasing the embedded ring which had dropped to the floor. I picked up the ring and also grabbed the 22. But it was once again a toy gun. Coke was bone meal. The cash was play money. I looked behind me.

A slug of orange foam stuck halfway out of the concrete wall. I was running my finger over the foam slug. when the room suddenly became far too silent. I realized that I could no longer hear the cop convulsing. I turned slowly. The officer's chest was rising and falling, but not all at once. To be honest, it looked as if her shirt was at a slow boil. A segmented creature, at least a dozen legs slipped out from between her buttons,

followed by more vermin, a few of which emerged from holes they chewed through the fabric. I quickly gathered everything up, stuffed it in my polluted bag, and ran through the frozen tops. By the time I made it to evidence reception, I heard screaming behind me, followed by Dunfire.

I doubled my pace. The hand had burned halfway down to the palm by the time I blew it out in an alley a couple of blocks from the station. When I got home, I locked all my dead. I had bolts and turned off the electricity at the breaker box. I know it wouldn't do any good, but it made me feel marginally safer.

I lit a few candles, the normal kind, made of beeswax from the corner store. I laid out all the shit on my kitchen table. Touched the ring, and I've got a bunch of toys and a couple pounds of disgusting fertilizer. Release the ring. I've got guns, cash, and coke. would have been hilarious if I was stoned. My stomach dropped. Nothing good comes from a visitor at two in the morning.

I sat still. The apartment was silent for 47 seconds. I know, because I was staring at my watch the entire time. And then the knocks returned with such force it sounded like the door might crack. Okay, okay, take it easy. Come in, just give me a second to get to the door. But by the time I did. gone down the hall.

Mave was already inside, and the door was still closed. You got it? I wanted to speak, but couldn't find my voice. Yeah. You got it. She pushed me gently out of her way and walked to the kitchen, as if the apartment were hers. Babe, what the hell?

How do you know where I live? I stared at the locked dead bolts. How did you get past my phone? fucking door. She looked back over her shoulder at me and gestured toward the chair at the table. You will not interfere. Her eyes were feral with terror. It felt as if I were looking at a friend trapped at the bottom of a very deep well. It unnerved me deeply. I shut my mouth and sat down. Maeve pulled a black Sharpie from her pocket and picked up the sack of powder. She drew a thick line across the back of the package, as if she were spoiling a barcode.

In an instant, the cocaine transformed into bone meal. Then, she got down on her hands and knees, drew a perfect circle on the floor around herself, and said something I didn't understand. The air immediately stank of ozone. She stood up and dumped the entire bag of bone meal inside the circle. covering her feet. Not a speck fell outside the black border. Mave began speaking in a language I did not understand

while pulling objects from her coat. The candles flickered and blew out, but I could still see Mave. The pale blue light emanated from both the pile of bone dust and the objects she had dropped on top of the pile. The beetle husk. A couple of plane cards. gun, and several other things I couldn't make out.

The glow increased in intensity until it climaxed with a loud pop. And all light vanished. Mave screamed in the darkness until she was abruptly silenced. When the candles reignited a moment later, Mave was immersed in a swarm of buzzing, chewing insects that formed a perfect living column from floor to sea. I caught one last glimpse of Mave's panicked, pleading eyes before she was completely engulfed. The bone meal began to stir, the tendrils of the coarse dust spiraled up and through the riving mass,

increasing in thickness and number until they had wormed their way entirely through the length and breadth of the column. All at once, both swarm and bonemeal collapsed into a glowing human form, so bright it hurt my eyes, forcing me to close them. When I was able to open them again, a short, plump woman in her late 50s, her early 60s, sat across from me at the table, smiling contentedly. That was good work, my burglar. I'm almost grateful you tried to steal me. Worse? I took a breath. I was having a little bit of a while. I was having to be a little bit of a little. I was having trouble thinking straight. Where's Mave?

Mave is gone. Well, not gone exactly. It's like where the hog went that you put into a meat pie. The hog is there, but it's not there. And once you eat it, the hog is you, but not you. I enjoyed driving her. She was by far the best candidate that you found for me. Found for you?

Well, yes, dear. You're my anchor. I enter all through your eyes. You should be pleased. No one is going to harm you if I can help it. You're too important. The hell are you? Her eyes lit up at the question, and her pudgy face blushed with pride.

By their smell can men sometimes know them near, but of their semblance can no man know, saving only in the features of those they have begotten on mankind. Then she laughed, long and inhuman, which made me cower even more deeply in my chair. She stopped, wiping tears from her eyes. He was a rotten little prig. But Howard knew more about us than he realized. She walked to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of tea from the fridge. You read the Bible?

I didn't respond. Well, there's a verse who should remember. Thou canst not see my father. face, for there shall no man see me and live. Sounds better in the original Hebrew. Here's the lesson. Don't touch that filthy dead man's ring in my presence ever, if you value your mind. I pulled my hands back from the table where the ring lay and placed them on my lap.

She stood up and stretched. Oh, you have no idea how hard it was to find my bones, much less get them ground in the proper way and shipped here. I really do appreciate your work. I don't make mistakes very often, but I didn't think to check whether the Armenians were under police surveillance. Thankfully, you turned out to be exactly the tool I require. She picked up one of the bundles of cash and tossed it to me.

Best use this soon. The spell will fade with the next full moon. She picked up another bundle and caressed it thoughtfully. It's too bad. I was rather looking forward to seeing how their organization reacted when their payment turned into children's toys. What about Maeve's son? He's going to want to know what happened to his mother. What if Mayve mentioned me to him?

What if he comes looking for me? The boy? She rolled her eyes. Ah, a messenger, barely human. Mayve had no children. Don't worry about him. We sat in silence while she examined her outfit, a fuzzy plum sweater with brown nylon slacks.

I ventured a final, timid question. What should I call you? I have many names, Nergel, Bealzebub, Legion, Rechev. But in this form, I go by Mildred. You may call me Millie, if you prefer. She walked to the front door and undid the deadbolt. I'll be in touch my pet.

I didn't join with a body just for the pleasure of it. She opened the door. I'm here to make things right. And with that, she laughed. The dead bolts clicked shut, and all my candles went out again. I sat in the darkness for a very long time before I felt my way to the bedroom, or I shivered under the covers until daylight bled through my blinds. Only then did I finally fall asleep.

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.

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