The NoSleep Podcast - NoSleep Podcast S14E22

Episode Date: July 12, 2020

It’s Episode 22 of Season 14. This week we conjure spells for you about life's dark transitions. “Costco’s Secret Basement” written by Blair Daniels (Story starts around 00:04:45) Produced by: Phil Michalski Cast: Blair – Sarah Ruth Thomas, Blonde Woman – Penny Scott-Andrews, Dan – Dan Zappulla, Red-haired Woman – Jessica McEvoy, Newscaster – Mick Wingert “Closed for Cleaning” written by Carolyn A. Drake (Story starts around 00:18:35) Produced by: Jeff Clement Cast: Narrato Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Okay, I think it's set right. Give it a try. Okay. Oh, damn. No, it's still not set right. What? I said it's still not... Forget it.

What we have here is a bad home security system. I know, right? And what's the number one sign of a bad home security system? A home security system that's so complicated you never use it. Like this one. This is exactly the type of security system. Simply Safe has spent a decade fighting against. I told you, let's get Simply Safe, I said.

You're right. Simply Safe believes that Simple is safer. And it's exactly why SimpliSafe is the home security for right now when feeling safe at home has never been more important. It's like I always tell our wonderful no-sleep listeners. Simplicef was designed to be easy to use while protecting your whole home 24-7. You just order online with a click of a button. Open the box, place the sensors, plug it in, and your home is protected around the clock.

No technician or salesperson has to come and disrupt your house. And the best part, you don't need to pay any outrageous monthly fees or sign a two-year contract. So none of the drilling, hammering, red-hot pokering and wiring you did for this system? No way. Listen, I know what it's like to feel overwhelmed by intimidating wiring that disrupts the home. It's like that time I wired my recording booth and... And the entire house almost collapsed? Don't be silly.

Entire house. It was only half of the entire second floor. But that doesn't matter. With Simply Safe, there are no worries or concerns about setting it up. And no fear of a tiny partial house collapse. So, are we going to get Simply Safe? Yes, indeed. No more of this wonky system.

Let's get a Simply Safe system. The one named Best Overall Home Security of 2020 by U.S. News and World Report. And the 24-7 professional monitoring and emergency dispatch starts at 50 cents a day. The listeners should get SimplySafe too. You're right. You hear that, listeners? Just head to Simplysafe.com slash no sleep and get free shipping and a 60-day money-back guarantee. That's Simplysafe.com slash no sleep to make sure they know that our show sent you. 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. sleep magic shop. I'm your proprietor, David Cummings. This week we conjure spells for you about life's dark transitions. Time sure flies, doesn't it? Tempice fugit, as they say. Maybe it's just the state of life in these COVID days, but it seems weeks fly by like days. For instance, we started our

YouTube channel a mere three months ago. And if you haven't checked it out yet, you'll find 14 of our live stream performances, along with the first episode of our Inside the No Sleep Studio series. There's lots of content there, and it's growing. Head over to YouTube.com slash the No Sleep Podcast official for all the sleepless sights and sounds. And while you can't see us on this episode, we trust you'll enjoy the sounds we have in store for you. Now, close your eyes and embrace the magic. In our first tale, we join a woman whose husband is dying following an accident. Naturally, she'd do anything to save his life,

even if that means trawling the deep web and looking for somewhat unusual solutions. And in this tale, shared with us by author Blair Daniels, an unusual solution is exactly what she finds. Performing this tale are Sarah Thomas, Penny Scott Andrews, Dan Zapula, Jessica McAvoy, and Mick Wingert. So let's go on a strange quest to save a loved one. After all, there's no such thing as going too far when it comes to saving the one you love. You'd even go so far as Costco's secret basement.

My husband is dying. Despite his good prognosis after the accident, he gets weaker every day. After he couldn't even say my name, I posted details of his condition on every forum I could find. Medical accident survivors. I even posted it on a sketchy deep web forum called Help Yourself. That's where I got the PM from, Chris. I can help you.

I'll send instructions tomorrow morning. See, the next morning, I didn't get another PM. I got a letter, a real paper envelope tucked into my empty mailbox. After I got over the initial terror, he somehow knows where I live. I greedily opened it and read the note inside. Dear Blair, here are the instructions. Be sure to follow them exactly or they might find you. Then we'll have a real problem on our hands.

C. 1. Drive to the car. Costco in Bloomberg. Bring a photograph of your husband and something that is likely to have his DNA on it, like a toothbrush. Two, go to the refrigerated produce room in the back.

You will see a red-haired woman standing there, pretending to sort through the lettuce. She will be wearing a red vest and a Costco badge, but don't be fooled. She is not an employee. Three, go up to her and ask Do you have organic blueberries? My son's allergic to the other kind.

Four. As long as the produce section is empty, she will smile and lead you over to the blueberries. As she picks up a box and hands it to you, she will purposefully drop it. Oh no! She'll pretend it's an accident. Play along. Five. Such a mess.

Blueberries all over the floor. She'll say, I'll stand out there and make sure no one comes in while we wait for the janitor. Six. No janitor is coming, of course. Seven. She will stand guard outside the produce room. Go to the right wall where the crate of mushrooms is. Push it back towards the wall.

It will roll into a small alcove. Beneath it, you will see a rectangular hole cut into the floor. and a ladder leading down. Seven. Climb down it. My eyes flickered to the bottom, where he had scrawled in red marker. Warning.

Read before proceeding. One. Don't just make a bee line for the produce section. They'll know what you're doing. Get a cart. Fill it with some junk. You should blend in with the other shoppers as much as possible. For that same reason,

don't wear bright colors or heavy makeup. Two, if a short woman with an infant strapped to her chest asks you for help, kindly refuse. She is one of them. If you look closely, you will notice that the infant press face first into her chest is a doll. Three, don't talk to the man at the front of the store advertising flooring. He's not one of them. He's just rude. Four, don't buy any food from the cafe.

I folded up the paper and jammed it into my pocket. Then, I rushed into the house, grab the items he requested, and jumped in the car. With a squeal of tires, I was on my way. A decade since I last set foot in a Costco. Everything looked different, bigger, emptier. The shelves stretched up to the ceiling far above, A seasonal section of glittering Christmas trees and dancing Santa sat far below. I rolled the cart into one of the first aisles.

Napkins and disposable diningware stared back at me. I grabbed a huge stack of paper plates and dropped it into my cart. When I got to the end of the aisle, I turned left. Excuse me? I turned around. A pretty blonde woman stood behind me. She flashed me a sweet smile. Yeah?

I don't want to bother you, but can you help me get that? She pointed to a jug of maple syrup on a high shelf. I can't reach it, and you're so tall. I stared at her, my heart beginning to pound. My eyes flicked down. A motionless infant was strapped to her chest. No, I'm sorry, I'm in a hurry. But...

I quickened my pace. The cart rolled across the floor with newfound speed. I didn't slow until I'd rounded the corner. Then I grabbed a few more decoy items, some corn muffins from the bakery, a bag of clementines, and arrived at the produce room. When I entered, there she was, the red-haired woman sorting through the lettuce.

I cleared my throat. Do you have organic blueberries? My son's... He can't eat them. I mean, he's allergic to the other kind. She gave me a smile and walked over to the blueberries. They're right over here. She picked up one of the boxes.

I watched her walk out. When she was firmly stationed at the entrance, I ran over to the crate of mushrooms. I gave it a push. It rolled easily under my hands. With a final glance at the red-haired woman, I descended into the pit. The metal rungs were cold under my hands.

They felt rough. as if covered in rust. The square of light above me shrunk until it was little more than a twinkling star in a black sky. My feet hit the hard floor. I pulled out my phone and turned on the flashlight. Before me was a tunnel, roughly hewn out of stone,

like some strange hybrid between a basement and a cave. I walked forward. The floor was uneven, and I had to concentrate to keep my footing. The damp walls glistened in the white light. After a few minutes, I found a wooden door set into the stone. I pulled it open. Inside was a dark, cavernous room.

The smooth walls and rectangular shape looked like a traditional basement, but it had a rotten, swamp-like stench to it. In the center was a table. One leg was bent and broken. There was a sheet of paper in the middle. Leave the items here. We'll take care of the rest. See, I pulled the toothbrush and photo out of my pocket.

I placed them on the table. I looked around the room, but as far as I could tell, it was empty. The closest thing to a person was a heap of clothes in the back corner. My heart filled with doubt, but I tried to focus on Dan and the happy life we deserved as I exited the basement. Dan came home from the hospital two days later. That first night home, we sat on the couch in front of the TV, eating ice cream. Like nothing had happened.

I guess I'm living on borrowed time. We better make it count. By eating tons of ice cream? By leading a good life. Oh, he smiled at me. I reached out for his hand, squeezed it. it and smiled back. But our smiles faded when the news came on.

The newscaster was standing outside of the Costco. Dozens of police cars were parked around it, their red and blue lights cutting through the night. Thanks, Jim. Tonight, police found evidence of violent cult activity at the Bloomberg Costco. I jabbed nervously at my ice cream. Human remains belonging to dozens of individuals were found in the basement. They range from a few days to a few years old.

Police believe some match the missing locals, but we're waiting on forensics to answer. The most recent remains, however, have been identified as belonging to 24-year-old Carly Bessinger. A photograph flashed up on the screen. Blonde hair, blue eyes, a warm smile. It was her, the blonde woman who asked me to reach something on the shelf. Security footage shows her walking around the store two days ago, alive and well, until she entered the produce section.

The reporter's voice faded. I wasn't listening anymore. Chris lied. There was no them. No woman with a doll strap to her chest waiting to pounce on me. No evil entity watching, thinking, plotting. He just didn't want me talking to a witness, a victim. A sacrifice.

I looked over at Dan. He watched, oblivious. A generic look of concern spread over his features. I looked down at the floor, unable to watch anymore. Dan's not on borrowed time. He's on stolen time. More horror stories coming right up. But there's the doorbell.

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string that helps to clean in between. David, open the door! And if you go to getquip.com slash no sleep right now, you'll get your first refill free. That's your first refill free at getquip.com slash no sleep. Relax, honey. I'll be right there. So join over 3 million happy customers and practice good oral care easily and affordably with Quip, starting at just $25. Okay, I got to go let her in before the zombies reach her. What?

You thought this was just a viral pandemic? Nah, dude, zombies. Brace yourself for zombies. And go to get-Q-U-I-P-com slash no sleep to learn more about Quip, the Good Habits Company. Okay, I'll go get the door while you get back to the show. When you've suffered heartbreak and divorce, going on a lengthy hiking trip can be just the ticket. Living under the stars, no screens in your face,

ah, bliss, well, for a while anyway. But after a while, you're going to want a shower. And in this tale, shared with us by author Carolyn A. Drake, that's exactly what our camper finds herself craving. So imagine her disappointment when she rolls up to the campsite to find the shower closed off. Performing this tale is Erin Lillis. So when you've been craving that hot water to ease your tired limbs, you're not going to let anything get in your way. Not even a sign which reads, closed for cleaning.

All I wanted was a shower. I'd been hiking the Pacific Crest Trail for three weeks. I was never a hiker until I married Jared, and his hobbies became our hobbies. Then I caught him one day, getting extra physical with his tennis instructor. Seven excruciating months later, my ring finger was naked and my heart was exhausted. Instead of agonizing over Jared's Instagram, on which he was already posting photos of him taking his new partner to places he'd vowed to take me, I chose to disconnect from civilization. I gathered my share of our savings, gave work my two weeks notice,

and purchased the best hiking boots R.E.I. had in stock. I began the Pacific Crest Trail from the California-Oregon Trailhead in late August. The hike spans 2,650 miles from Mexico to Canada, but I only plan to complete the Oregon portion of the trail, the total of which runs just over 400 miles. I was three weeks into the trip when I realized I was in over my head. I'm a Portland native and considered myself immune to Pacific Northwest weather, but spending five consecutive days steeped in freezing puddles

with only a tiny pop-up tent for shelter was a rainy hell. So when I finally hit the Crater Lake portion of the trail, I was ready to be warm. Crater Lake was one of the few stops on the trail that boasted washing machines, showers, and even spotty Wi-Fi. I was drenched when I arrived at the Mazama Village Registration Office Camp Store and booked a campsite for a single evening. It was mid-September, and the weather had been nothing but foggy rain for weeks, so there were plenty of tent-only sites. The man behind the counter was tactful, but I still caught him wrinkling his nose as he agreed to keep my pop-up tent and fanny pack behind the cash register until I was done. showering. I couldn't blame them. I'd spent the last eight days in the wilderness, most days

wearing the same clothes I fell asleep in until they were soaked with sweat from the day's hike. The fading gray daylight illuminated the parking lot as I left the registration office. The lot was empty. Everyone who had braved the chilling rain to camp in the National Park was hold up in their tents playing cards and drinking beer until sundown. I knew that I should be in the same boat, but I'd gotten a little. late start on my hike that morning, and as much as I wanted to be snuggled up in the warmth of my sleeping bag, I craved the blissful release of a steamy shower. The registration office graced a large parking lot, surrounded by expansive forest. The laundry room and bathrooms with showers were in the

same building, but each had separate entrances from the parking lot. I hastily shouldered open the door to the public laundry room, which was nothing more than two washing machines and two dryers. I fed the washing machine three quarters and my muddy clothes before exiting back into the parking lot and making my way to the bathroom entrance. With my backpack bursting with cleanish sweatpants for sleeping and toiletries, I approached the women's bathroom door. My heart sank, however, as I caught sight of the wrinkled paper taped to the outside. Closed for cleaning. I stomp my boot against the tote-colored tile like a child. I wanted a shower. I needed a shower. A hot, steamy, soapy, relaxing shower. I didn't have time to wait the 15 to 30 minutes it would take for that sign to come down. If I waited too long, I'd never get to the campsite before dark, and assembling my one person tent in the utter obscurity of the woods and in the rain to boot would be a miserable experience.

I glanced around the hall leading from the parking lot door to the bathroom. No one. I tentatively nudged the bathroom door open and peeked inside. The line of sinks and stalls were vacant. I crept a little further inside. Hello? No one replied. The bathroom was empty.

Emboldened, I entered the bathroom and let the door close behind me. I checked the open stall doors to ensure I was totally alone before hurrying past the toilets and sinks towards the second door. the one labeled showers. I pushed open the door and again looked around, but mercifully saw no one. I was ecstatic. The cleaning woman had probably tacked the sign up

before beginning the job and was on her way back with her supply cart. Until then, though, I was free to indulge in a sinfully hot shower. Six showers lined the wall to my left, all sequestered behind singular heavy plastic curtains that fell down to my ankles. I stepped into one of the showers. areas and yanked the curtain shut behind me.

There was a small dressing area beside the actual shower, although the entire space, no larger than seven feet by three feet. There were no windows, and the only entrance was the curtain archway. It was little more than a cramped nook of ceramic tiles and a showerhead, but damn it, it would do. I set my backpack down on a small wooden bench beside the shower and shed my clothes faster than my teenage self did on prom night. Shivering in the damp cold of the tiled room, I slid my dollar bin flip-flops on and hurried 75 cents into the dispenser.

Water began pouring from the camp shower with the force of ten showerheads. I threw myself beneath the stream. My three-quarters would only buy four minutes of this sweltering heaven. I planned to relish every second of it. I tilted my chin back and let the the scalding water run down my neck. I lathered up my hands and dug my fingers into my hair, massaging the built-up grime away. Slippery water slid down my curves and slithered between my toes. I grinned as the water splashed over my chapped lips

and washed off the muck of the last week. This was paradise. I opened my eyes and glanced at the closed plastic. curtain separating my naked body from other campers. It was shut, and all I saw beneath it was vacant, tiled floor. Hello? I waited for a few seconds, expecting someone to tell me to get out so they could clean, but no one spoke. I turned my head towards the curtain, letting the water hit the side of my face. Hello? Still, nothing. But as I observed the shower curtain, wondering if I should poke my head beyond it to see if there was anyone else in the room, the lights flickered.

The lights were old, the fluorescent kind, that probably were installed back in the 90s and hadn't been replaced since. I turned my gaze up to the light above my head, squinting against the splattering water splashing off my skin. The bulb continued flickering, but did not go out. Something to my left shifted beyond the curtain. I turned my head to look. And in the heat of the steaming shower, I froze. Beneath the ankle-length hem of the shower curtain were two bare, muddy feet. The shower curtain remained closed, but I stared at those feet, all too aware that the only thing separating me from another human was a flimsy plastic curtain.

I let the water smack into my body without moving. It felt like moving would somehow break the spell this moment was under. and something would happen. I wasn't sure if the thing that would happen would be benign or malignant. As long as I didn't move, though, it might all be okay. My four minutes were up. Suddenly, with the water shut off, the only sound in the vast shower room was my panting breath.

I clamped a hand over my mouth, trying to stem the sound of my heavy breathing. My eyes never left those muddy feet. They look like they belonged to a little. a woman, which should have given me some relief, but why would anyone be barefoot in a public restroom at a National Park campsite? Not only that, but why would anyone just be standing there outside my shower curtain? Her toes were facing towards me, towards the curtain, which meant that whoever the feet belonged to, the person was just standing there. Her face practically pressed

against the other side of the curtain. Why wasn't she saying anything? Why wasn't she moving? There were plenty of other showers. There were five vacant ones when I got in and I heard no one else under the room in the five minutes I'd been there. So what the actual fuck was she doing? My flight or fight instincts were firing. I needed to either fight this chick or get the hell away from her. But in order to get away, I'd have to get past her. I was stuffed into a little ceramic cubby of a shower, after all, with no exit other than the entrance that was obscured by the curtain and blocked by my unknown intruder. My hands shook as I swiped excess water from my body. Too late, I realized that I was still covered in soap that hadn't been washed off

during my shower. I didn't care. I would take a night of sleeping in my tent in the rain with soap suds cleaning to my skin as long as it meant getting out of this horrific situation. I considered screaming for help, but it would hear me. The registration guy was on the other side of the laundry room, which was banging away with a load of my clothes, and the rain pounding on the roof of the camp store would certainly drown out my cries. It was the brink of dusk, and no other campers were nearby.

Besides, the closed-for-cleaning sign would surely send any stray female hikers looking to relieve themselves across the parking lot to the restaurant bathroom. there was no one coming to help me. Can I help you? I immediately hated myself for not charging through the curtain to confront this person and for sounding so pathetic and helpless.

Me, a grown woman, cowering behind a flimsy curtain, naked, vulnerable, covered in soap. Again, however, no one replied. There was, however, the ghastly, sound of a feminine growl. The snarl was animalistic, even though it almost certainly came from the woman's throat. It reverberated against the tiled walls of the shower room. No words were spoken. Goose flesh erupted along my skin, and had I possessed the capability to nope the fuck out of there, I'd have been gone in that instant. But I did not have that chance. The intruder, who stood silently outside the shower curtain, blocked my only exit.

And I didn't possess the courage to force my way past her. Shivering minutes went by as I stared at those white, muddy feet. The longer I stared at them, the more I was struck by their paleness. They were almost blue. Even though they were humanoid, I was struck by the sudden realization that this being was no woman. It was no human being. This was some thing. My breathing quickened. My pulse hammered beneath my skin. I could hear my blood rushing in my ears.

As though the thing on the other side of the curtain could sense my anxiety, I heard it move. Its bones clicked as limbs shifted its weight from one foot to the other, and then back, swaying left and right, just feet away from me. Its visage blocked merely by a curtain of beige plastic. My heart thumped a frenzied rhythm in my chest. Whatever horrible threat this thing posed to me, it was about to follow through. I glanced around my small shower stall wildly for a weapon to defend myself. I had nothing. I had left my hunting knife inside my fanny pack,

which was tucked safely behind the camp registration desk. There was nothing I could do. I had no options of escape, no options of defense, and no options of pacifying whatever this thing was. I was cornered. I was trapped. Then, in what was both a blight and a blessing, the lights went out. To this day, I don't know if the thing beyond the curtain was the cause of the lights going out, or if that was a freak coincidence by the storm. Whatever the case, being plunged into complete darkness was apparently the spark,

my survival instincts required to be sped into action. I plunged forward. I lifted my arms before me and shoved the curtain aside. I felt icy, rigid hands slap and grab at my naked skin, but thanks to the un-wrinsed soap coating my entire body, the thing couldn't get a firm hold. I twisted and shrieked like a banshee. The hands slipped away.

The naked souls of my feet slapped along the wet tile in the darkness towards where I remembered the door being. My outstretched hands collided with the shut door and my face crunched against the metal surface. I fumbled, feeling a presence behind me bearing down as I scrambled and screamed. At last, my fingers wrapped around the door handle. I yanked.

The door swung open and with soapy water lubricating my sprint, I scrambled into the blackened bathroom and then out into the hallway of the shadowy registration building. A white, full moon was all over. already lighting the parking lot as I shoved my way out of the building and clattered into the parking lot. I was screaming my head off as I surfaced into the cold night air. I remember this next part so clearly that I still dream of it in vivid detail. There was a camper van parked in the dead center of the lot as though placed there by divine hand of fate. A man in a black raincoat

and a woman with long blonde hair faced the van. Their backs to me. A cell phone propped up on hood as they posed with peace signs before the National Park camping registration office. In my terror, I ran towards them. They were the only humans I saw in my immediate vicinity. I was screaming and blubbering for them to call the cops because there was something in the bathrooms. I remember clinging to the woman's jean jacket and staring wildly at the closed bathroom door. I recall the man throwing his raincoat around my naked body and sprinting into the registration office the second the building regained power so he could use their landline, as neither their cell phones had service in the park. I remember the girl gingerly placing me into the camper

van driver's seat to get me out of the rain and cooing to get me to drink some water. She held my hands and said it would be okay as sirens screamed towards us. I clutched her until police pried me away for questioning. I was brought into the closed camp restaurant as I refused to used to set foot in the registration building again. Someone handed me a towel, which I absently used to wipe the lingering soap from my body. I was given a pair of sweats from the camper van girl's wardrobe. A steaming cup of cocoa was pushed into my jittering hands. I sputtered my story over and over again until it was past midnight.

By then, the camper van couple was gone, and every inch of the bathroom had been searched. Police determined that the bathrooms had been closed for cleaning some hours ago, but that the cleaning woman failed to remove the sign. No one knew who the woman with the money feet was, and no one found anyone hiding in or around the bathrooms. Words like dehydration, mental fatigue, and hallucination were thrown around until I began to believe them myself. I was taken to the lodge at the rim of the crater, a kind police officer. A kind police officer sweet-talked the receptionist into giving me a room at the late hour.

And then he saw me to the door and waited until it was locked behind me before he left. I did not sleep that night. At dawn, I called a cab and paid a stupid amount of money to be taken to the closest rental car agency. I did not collect my hiking clothes from the laundry room at Crater Lake National Park. I did not complete my hiking trip. I did not take a shower for a very long time. I returned to Portland and found myself an apartment in the busiest, most well-lit part of the city. I told my friends I got tired of the rain and laughed off jokes about my ineptitude to survive in the wilderness.

I took a new job. I took a new lover. I forced myself to heal. I began to forget. Then I got an email. It was entitled, Thought You Should See This? I almost didn't open it. I knew I shouldn't.

I did anyway. The email contained a short message from the camper van girl. She told me that she had wrestled over whether or not to send the attached document to me because she didn't think it would help me to see it. But she continued, she knew what it was like to experience something horrible that no one believed, and she didn't want me to live with the doubt.

Attached to the email was a single photograph. It was a picture of the camper van girl and the man she had been with on the evening in the incident. She and the man were facing the camera, away from the registration office. They hugged each other and smiled in the darkening sky. The horizon behind them lit only with the remnants of sunset. And beyond them I saw myself. I was a slightly blurry form, 15 feet behind them, sprinting towards their oblivious smiles with a look of pure terror on my face.

I was naked and barefoot. Upon seeing this, I cringed. But I was confused. I knew that all of this had happened. It was a terrible memory, yes, but it wasn't something I didn't know about already. I was about to close the photo when I saw it. A shadow. More than a shadow, though, a body.

I increased the resolution of the photo on my laptop screen and zoomed in. When the image loaded, I felt my blood run cold. There was an outline of an obscured being. Clearly an adult person, but somehow also not a person. standing in the still darkened registration building some ten feet behind me. It didn't seem willing to move beyond the bathroom door as it stood with its hands braced against the doorframe. The stance in which it watched me was menacing. Electric bolts shot down my spine just seeing the threatening still frame of the creature

watching me as I escaped its clutches. What was more, however, was what I suddenly realized was wrong with my body. As I mentioned, before the incident, I had begun to wash myself in the shower and had already rinsed much of the grime from the previous few days of my trip off. I should have been spotless, covered in only soap and water.

So why, then, when I viewed the photo attached to that email, was my body covered in small muddy handprints? A kayaking holiday, traversing the open water, just a daughter and her mother. Sounds great, right? And it is. It's fascinating, too. So much to discover on the route.

Like that wreck of a cargo ship just underwater, a popular attraction for kayakers and divers. But in this tale, shared with us by author David Hubbard, the wreck holds more of a draw than a simple sightseeing spot. Performing this tale are Nicole Goodnight, Nicole Doolin, Ellie Hirschman, Matt Bradford, and Graham Rowett. So keep an eye on that movement from the cave entrance,

and listen carefully. Is that a voice calling you? Maybe it wants you to investigate closer. Maybe it's summoning you to explore the SS tribute. You weren't alive when the tribute sank, were you? The what? The SS tribute. It was a cargo ship. one of the biggest in the world.

You see that rock up ahead of us? There was a gnarled gray rock sticking up out of the sea a couple of hundred feet from our kayaks. It was covered in bird shit. Yeah? And that rock we paddled past back there? I stopped paddling and twisted round at the waist to look. It was even further away than the rock in front.

The waves gently nudged us forward. Uh-huh. Well, the tribute was that long. From one rock to the other? Yeah. Jesus. Language. Sorry.

Mom picked up her paddle and dug into the water. She scammed effortlessly over the waves. Meanwhile, I was struggling just to stay upright as they rocked me left to right. She stopped and waited for me. She'd been doing that all day. So what happened to it? Hmm? The SS tribute, was it?

Why did it sink? The crew saw smaller vessels. struggling against the waves, right up near the cliffs. They had a little rescue boat on board, so they sent it out. That didn't anchor the tribute properly. The weather turned, and by the time they realized what was happening, it was too late. Too late for what? The waves carried the tribute into the rocks.

It crushed the smaller boats, and the crew had to jump into the water. They ended up stuck in the caves waiting for the rescue team to find. And the tribute? You remember the fish I guttered the other night for the water. dinner? Jesus. Oh, sorry. We kept paddling in silence for a couple of minutes. The shit-covered rock was slowly getting closer. Mom would glide forward, cutting through the waves like scissors through wrapping paper, then turn her head, dig in her paddle, and wait for me to catch up, splashing all the way. The sun was slowly making its way towards the horizon. My arms were starting to feel like noodles.

Why'd you bring it up, Mom? Hmm? The cargo ship? It's a skiskship. It's a skisks. scary story, I guess. I mean, it's not really that scary. There weren't any ghosts or monsters, just a big accident. So it didn't scare you at all? No. Mom stopped paddling. Maybe you should be.

Here we go. I'm serious. The sea's dangerous, okay? It's fine for us to come out like this. The sky's clear. It's daytime. The water's pretty warm this time. of year and you've got me with you but it can turn just like that I know mom do you I the

seas a cruel mistress honey I'm serious I know I know then act like it mom didn't normally shot at me she kept paddling after a second I followed her the rock still looked so far off isn't this a safe part of the coast though Accidents happen, but around here's pretty good, right? That's what they always say. Look down, honey. What? Look down into the water.

Um, okay. Can you see anything? The water was really clear. I could see pretty far down as it stretched off into blueness. A couple of fish swam by a few feet below me. Fish? And below them. Blue?

And below that. I don't know. The bottom? You can see the bottom? Not really. But it can't be that far down, can it? I mean, the cliffs are right there. If you got out of your kayak now and swam straight down,

you'd be swimming through 200 feet of empty water before you touched anything solid. That's not that bad. How tall are you? 5.5. 5.4. Don't flatter yourself. Fine. 5.4. So that's... That's like 40 of me to reach the bottom.

Yeah, see? It's not that bad. Who said anything about the bottom? What? I said something solid. Okay. Mom didn't say anything. The shit rock still didn't look much closer. All right, I'll bite.

What's the something solid, Mom? She didn't answer. Hello, Earth to Mom. What happened to? In the Sea, communication is key. Figure it out. I stopped paddling. A gull took off from me.

shitrock and glided over our heads all the way to the rock we'd left far behind. Wait, the tribute? Uh-huh. I looked at the rock still far in front of us. I looked at the rock far behind us. Then I looked down into the water. Suddenly, I felt very, very small in my kayak. A little wave splashed up and almost knocked me over.

I didn't want to think about how much bigger the waves that sank the tribute must have been. 40 of me down, then a cargo ship, then the bottom? That spooky enough for you? I didn't answer. The bow is jammed against that rock up there. The stern is back behind us. Oh, but you're right. This is a safe part of the coast.

All right, Mom, I get it. Big old ship full of ghosts somewhere in the depths. I get it. No, you don't. You're still scared of the wrong. thing. Mom stopped paddling again. Ghosts aren't real. You know that. What's real is the 200,000 tons of rusted cargo ship that was thrown against the cliffs as carelessly as you'd knock a paper cup off a table. I get it. The sea's dangerous. The sea doesn't care. Out here,

what happens happens, and there's nothing you can do to change it. Okay. Okay. Okay, Mom, yeah, I get it. I tell you that whole story and you're scared of ghosts. Honestly. All right, Mom, you've made your point. I should think so. We paddled on in silence. Shit Rock was getting a bit bigger now.

I didn't really want to be out in the kayak anymore. And I didn't want to be between these two rocks either. Mom was paddling at my pace now just a little ahead of me. What do you want to eat when we get in? We still get some of that fish in the freezer. Yeah, sure. I'm sorry for shouting, honey. It's fine.

Another little wave rocked my kayak. I managed to ride this one a bit better. Mom, those caves? Yeah? Did the crew get rescued in the end? Not all of them. Okay. I looked over at the cracks in the cliffside.

Waves were breaking gently around them very slowly eroding away the rock. In the light of day, they didn't look too bad. Plenty of room for a couple of kayaks. In fact... Mom? Hmm? What is that?

What's what, honey? There, at the entrance to that cave. Which cave? Where? Right there. I'm not crazy, right? There's something in the water. Mom didn't say anything. She sat very still and upright in her kayak.

Then without warning, she was paddling over to the cliff. Mom? I splashed after her. If I had been struggling to keep up before, I had no chance now. She cut through the water as if it wasn't there at all, allowing the waves to carry her faster and faster. Mom? Hello?

Rock started to jut out of the water around us. The cliff entrance yawned wider and wider the closer we got. Something bobbed out of the water right in the cave's entrance. It looked almost like a little head. Hello? Mom, what's that? The head disappeared in the water. It popped up again somewhere further in the cave and then vanished for good.

If I didn't know any better... Hello? Mom, was that a dog? Shh. Hello? Hello? Are you okay in there? Mom, you're not going in there, are you?

Shh. Hello? Mom, that sounds like a kid. I know Okay, honey, listen I'm going in there Wait, Mom, no No, no

You literally just lectured me About how dangerous the sea is I know And how you're just going to throw that away Shut up Honey, now's not the time One day when you have a kid you'll understand We need to call the Coast Guard

Mom was biting her lip A trap of blood appeared She looked it off and looked straight at me. Stay here. Mom. Listen to me. Stay here. Watch the tide.

As soon as it goes above that rock, start shouting at me. I'll be out before you know it. The cave won't go that deep. Mom, I don't like this. Two seconds, then I'll be out and we'll go home and make dinner, okay? The Coast Guard... They'll take a while to get here. I've done cave kayaking before.

I'll be in and out. If it's too d'clock... dangerous we call them, okay? Okay? Yeah. Repeat my instructions. Honey. Um, okay.

Watch the tide. When I can't see that rock, start shouting. Then dinner. Then dinner. For a moment, I couldn't read Mom's face. She looked like she was either going to cry or shout at me. She didn't do either. She just turned towards the cave and started paddling.

It was scary, how quickly she disappeared into the darkness. Something bumped my kaya. The water had carried me into a rock. I pushed away from it and tried to get my berries. Which rock was it that she told me to watch? That one, right? Must have been.

Yeah, yeah, that one. Okay, just watch that rock. Don't think about ghosts. A wave caught the rock next to me and threw spray up into my eyes. Then another. When I wiped the water away, the world was darker. I looked up at the sky I could have sworn there weren't that many clouds before

I couldn't hear mom in the cave anymore Mom? Mom? Nothing. It's fine, it's okay, just two seconds and she'll be out, then we'll go for dinner. Just two seconds, just watch the rock and... Shit, the rock? Which rock?

They had all moved. They must have. Where else could they have gone? It was that rock I was supposed to be watching. Yeah, that one. I glanced at the entrance to the cave. The entrance didn't look so tall now. The water can't have risen that much, surely.

I could see the water line marked up on the cliff where the sea would normally rise to. It was maybe a foot above the entrance to the cave. Mom? My voice didn't sound so sure this time. The world went very quiet. Mom? I was suddenly underwater. Something solid crunched against my shoulder. Sea water in my lungs. My eyes only saw painful blurs. I screwed them shut. My legs couldn't move. The kayak, what was I supposed to do again? My fingers fumbled around blindly. I found the handle and pulled. I tumbled upwards out of the kayak further into the water. Another rock hit my back. I started kicking, swimming harder and harder, reaching for the surface. I stretched an arm out and touch sand.

Sand? I tried to yell, but more water poured into my lungs. Chit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. The water pulled me. I tried to open my eyes again, but it was dark. Sand scraped at them. The tide was carrying me now, dragging me along, bouncing me against the seabed.

I could feel my lungs starting to spasm just one breath. Lights. Somewhere inside my eyelids. Dancing around looking like curtains. still open. The water broke. Sound flooded back into the world. I threw up salt water, feeling it trickling warmly down my cheek. Air. Water splashed into my mouth, but I spat it out and breathed again. Air! For a long time, I just lay there with my eyes closed. Air, a bit of sea water, spit it out, air. Half of me was still in the water, half of me on sand. I tried to get up up my arm when it

The more I thought about it, the more it ached. Actually, could it... Pain flooded through it, enough to make me open my eyes. Darkness. Complete darkness. I lay very still. My shoulder burned. Darkness.

All I could hear was the water gently lapping under my back. Hello? Even a little whisper made me start coughing. My coughs echoed back at me from far too close. Okay, okay, I'm in the cave, that's fine. At least I'm not underwater, right? A wave splashed up into my mouth, filling it with sand and salt. Very gently, I rolled onto my side.

My right arm flopped limply onto the sand with a painful thud. Another wave splashed up against me, pushing me up the bank. I shuffled the rest of the way until my head touched stone. My legs were still in the water. Okay, okay, that's good. Progress, okay. I was in a crack in the cave, probably a little offshoot. Judging from how dark it was, I must have been in pretty deep.

Looking at my legs, though, I noticed I could just about see the red stripes on the sides of my wetsuit. There was a chink of light coming from above, a little fault in the rock that must have gone all the way up out of the cave, reflected from wall to wall until it was barely brighter than nothing. The roof of the cave sloped down into the water. One way in, one way out. Something hard was pressing into my thigh. Of course, my phone. I reached in and unzipped the waterproof pocket.

I almost fumbled the phone into the water straight away. My left hand wasn't cooperating like my right one usually did. The screen lit up. 9-1-1. I put it up to my ear and waited. No signal. Shit. I lifted it higher, as high as I could reach,

propped up on my broken shoulder. I pressed dial. No signal. Oh God, come on, please. One bar. 911, what is your emergency? A wave rocked me and knocked all my weight onto my bad arm.

Can you hear me? Yes, yes, please, please, I need help. I'm in a cave, the sea. It washed me in. There was this kid and my mom. Mom, I don't... The coast. It's where the shore.

ship sank. There was a big ship that sank and I'm in a cave there. You have to help me. We can send the Coast Guard. No, no, no, no. You're breaking up. Please. Please. I need help. The tribute. It's a cave where the SS tribute... The call had already dropped.

No matter what angle I tried, how high I stretched my arm, I couldn't get any signal. I think it was at that point I started crying. I couldn't tell you how much time had passed. I don't really want to think about it. Anyway, I probably would have stayed like that for a lot longer if I hadn't

noticed the water. When I first got washed into the cave, it was flashing around my thighs, but as I lay there trying to find any kind of signal, it crept up on me. I think it was when I started shivering that I noticed it was at my chest. I tried to shuffle further out, but the back of my head hit raw. I came to the sickening realization that I couldn't actually fully extend my arm any direction other than upwards, and even then, I was only a little. I was only a little bit of a few inches clear of the cave ceiling. I think that was the first time I realized I would die in that cave. Mom, I could barely even hear my own voice. Mom, Mom, I need some help. All of the sudden, I was four years old again with my leg stuck in a neighbor's fence. I thought it could climb through

the gap until the splinters came. The more I struggled, the deeper they'd gone until I just lay there helpless on the sidewalk, blood all over the white paint, waiting for Mom to come and save me. just like she always did. Mom, where are you? Hello? No, that must have been in my head, surely. Hello? No, that was it again.

It was that voice from before, the voice that mom followed into the cave. Just a kid, and a young kid at that. Are you okay? I'm very well, thank you. How are you? I'm... Wait, where are you? Here? Where's here? Can't you see me? No. Oh, where are you? I'm stuck in a cave. The voice was coming from above, echoing through the crack in the rock. Now that I paid attention, I could hear a dog barking too. Where are you? In the playground, silly?

Playground. What playground? The big one. It clicked. My stomach drop. There was a playground up on top of the cliffs. I'd seen it as we drove down to see that morning. That gap in the rock must have gone all the way up there. Great. Okay, I need you to listen very carefully to me. Mommy says I shouldn't talk to strangers. Okay, well, my name's Sarah. There, we're not strangers anymore.

My name's Toby. Toby, such a lovely name. Is your mommy around Toby? Uh-huh. Could you go and get her, please? Okay. I suddenly felt very alone. For what felt like, agonizingly long, I laid there in the dark.

I was shivering now. A lot. Sarah? Yeah, I'm here. Is your mommy there? No, she said it's time to go home. Toby? I asked if she wanted to speak to you.

And she laughed. Toby, I need you to ask again. Tell her I'm real, okay? Will you be here tomorrow? Toby, listen to me. I'll be back tomorrow and mommy can come then, okay? Toby? Toby?

That was the second time I realized I was going to die in that cave. Again, it was the water that stopped me crying. This time it was when the first wave splashed up into my mouth. I think my body was just starting to shut down from the cold. I couldn't even feel my broken shoulder anymore. In fact, the water was starting to feel kind of warm. Like it was inviting me. just to duck my head under and swim into the darkness.

Something brushed my leg. I jumped back so hard it knocked feeling back into my shoulder. I backed into the wall. I hadn't imagined that, had I? There was definitely something in here with me. Somewhere in the water, not that far from me, sat a cargo ship. One of the longest ever to go into the ocean. The longest ever to sink.

How many bodies had they recovered? Stop it. You're not adding ghosts to your problem right now, okay? Just calm down. Calm down. The water shifted. Now, it couldn't have. I was imagining things. There was nothing in there with me. Just me. Just me on my own, with no one round to help. No one to call. No mom. No Toby. Just little old me in my little cave. You know? It was actually starting to get. grow on me. I always liked natural architecture. There it was again. For real this time, I didn't imagine that. There was something moving in the water. I was on my tiptoes by this point. The water was now carrying me. I hesitantly reached up to the ceiling. What had been out of my reach when I needed to call to the Coast Guard was now only a couple of inches above my head. I found the crack in the

rock with my hand. I felt reassuring somehow in a cold, hard, rocky kind of way. Just don't think about the thing in the water, think happy thoughts. Happy thoughts like Toby. Toby seemed happy. He sounded like he was having fun. If he could have fun up there, maybe I can have fun down here too. Salt water splashed into my mouth.

I kicked off from the bottom and started treading water. Just like swimming lessons. That's all this is. Just another swimming lesson. I could only paddle with one arm. The other hurt too much to move. Okay, this is fine, it's all fine. I just have to sweat here for a bit until, well, until whatever happens, happens.

Mom's voice played somewhere quietly in the back of my head. Whatever happens, happens, and there's nothing you can do to change that. It's going to happen. I'm going to die, and there's nothing I can do to change that. But I don't want to die. The sea surged and smacked my feet. face against the rocky ceiling. The warmth of blood felt alien on my lips. I tried to breathe but water filled my mouth. I only had a couple of inches of air left. I don't want to die. I don't want to die.

Please, don't let me die. If you're out there, I don't want to die. I want to go home. I want to eat fish for dinner. I want to go and play with Toby. I want my mom. Please. Please, don't let me die. Another swell of water. I had to press my lips through the crack to breathe. If the tide came in another inch, I was done. Please. Something brushed my leg again. It was here.

Whatever was in the water was here with me. It wrapped around my leg again. It felt warm as it pressed against my thigh. Then my torso. I clenched my good fist and readied it. I couldn't punch well in this water, but that sure as hell wasn't going to stop me trying. I sank my fist into whatever it was, as hard as I could. could. It was warm, really warm and soft. It had hair floating around it in the water. I felt around

to find a head. A head with big, floppy ears and a mouthful of rounded canines. Canines? A collar. My hand found a collar. I couldn't believe it. I took my last gulp of breath and ducked underwater. I couldn't see a thing, but I felt the dog pressing against me. It climbed up my body and stuck its muzzle into the crack in the rock, just long enough to bark. Then the dog was off, swimming down. I was holding its collar as it tried to pull me along. For a confused moment, I held the dog back as I felt it kicking before I pushed off and followed it. My right arm was useless, but with my left holding the collar and my feet kicking, I swam down into the darkness.

The dog paddled frantically in front of me. I had no clue how long dogs could hold their breath, but I could already feel my life. long starting to give out. I wasn't sure if we were even going anywhere. The current was so strong, pushing us back in that we could have been going backwards. My legs were burning. My shoulder was bumping against rocks. Every time it did, I almost lost my grip on the collar. Everything hurt. Somewhere out there, the water was glowing. I didn't know if I could see it or feel it, but it was there. The collar slipped from my fingers. I reached out. and grabbed it again. It was being pulled back behind me. I wrapped my arm around the dog and tried to

pull him closer. He'd stop swimming. The water was glowing. The dog was warm in my arms. I was five years old. Before I remembered anything, I was at home, almost asleep. My face on the pillow, a hot water bottle against my chest. It was all I needed, all I ever needed. Just me and my pillow and my hot water bottle, almost asleep. So close. If mom could just come and close the curtains. It was still sunny outside, still too sunny, too much light coming through the window. I didn't want to get up, but Mom's hands were on my shoulders, and she was pulling me. Up.

The water broke. There were noises everywhere. I wanted to go back to bed. Someone was carrying me, putting things around me. There were lights. Too many lights. And talking. Couldn't they just leave me alone?

Hello, miss. Can you hear me? Hello? Something bright was in my eyes. A man had a flashlight in my face. I turned my head away. Where was my pillow? Where was my hot water bottle?

She's conscious. Guys, she's conscious. Can you hear me, miss? Dog. My dog? It's okay. You just rest, all right? Guys, is there a dog in the water?

Has anyone seen a dog? That was the last thing I remember before falling asleep. I dream every night. Sometimes it's about monsters and ghosts. Sometimes I can fly. Sometimes I get to see mom again. I woke up in the hospital about 18 hours later. Aside from my busted shoulder, they had to treat me for pneumonia,

severe exhaustion, dehydration, and a whole load of cuts and bruises. For a while, they were worried I'd have brain damage from oxygen deprivation, but I got cleared on that front. Most of the doctors who came in to see me knew me by two names, Miracle Girl or Dog Girl. The nice ones just called me Sarah. The Coast Guard apparently spent the whole evening searching caves up and down the shoreline. They'd actually called off the search before they found me.

On the way back in, they'd spotted a little boy waving frantically from the top of the cliff. They stopped to wave back, which is when they saw me in the water. They searched around for a bit, but couldn't find a dog. Apparently they spotted one walking around on the rocks just up the coast from there, but figured that it couldn't. have been the same one. I'm going to choose to believe that it was. I've tried to tell people my story. I don't think any of the doctors quite understand it, but that's okay. The dog who saved me is somewhere out there playing fetch, just like my mom is somewhere up there cooking me dinner,

waiting for me to get home. Is it sad? Sure. I don't get to see my mom anymore, at least not for a while. Of course that's sad. For now, I'm still here. Somehow. So I guess now it's just up to me to figure out why. 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-sleep podcast.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.