The NoSleep Podcast - NoSleep Podcast S15E11

Episode Date: November 8, 2020

It’s Episode 11 of Season 15. Our lost highway journey takes us deep into the night. “Brine” written by J. W. Wright (Story starts around 00:04:25) Produced by: Phil Michalski Cast: Narrator – Jeff Clement, Eric – Kyle Akers “Nocturne” written by Jeffrey Walker (Story starts around 00:15:15) TRIGGER WARNING! Produced by: Jeff Clement Cast: Rachel – Nikolle Doolin, Mason – Peter Lewis, Roy – Graham Rowat “The Afterlife of Daphne Green” written by DM Holder (Story star Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Hi folks, Cummings here. How are you feeling these days? Halloween is over, and like a kid coming off a candy sugar crash, it's easy to feel down, deflated, and lacking motivation. And let's face it, things going on in the world right now only contribute to a sense of stress and anxiety. So if you're not in a good headspace these days, it's completely understandable. That's why I'm so glad no sleep has partnered with better help. We've talked about it before, but it's a good time to remember. mind you that BetterHelp is a service you can use to connect with a licensed therapist. Now, it's not a crisis line, and it's not self-help. It's professional counseling done securely online. Better Help will assess your needs and match you with your own licensed professional therapist, and their broad range of expertise can provide services which may not be locally available in many areas. You sign up easily and can start communicating in under 48 hours. The service is available for clients worldwide, and you can log into your account anytime and send a message to your counselor. You'll get timely and thoughtful responses.

Plus, you can schedule weekly video or phone sessions, so you won't ever have to sit in a stuffy waiting room like you would with traditional therapy. BetterHelp wants you to start living a happier life today. You can check out the reviews on their website, BetterHelp.com slash reviews, and you'll see the positive effects thousands of people have experienced with Better Help. In fact, so many people have been using BetterHelp that they're recruiting additional counselors

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mental health with the help of an experienced professional. So go to betterhelp.com slash no sleep to get 10% off your first month. Betterhelp.com slash no sleep. It's help you deserve. Yourself for the no sleep podcast. Episode 11 of the no sleep podcast. I'm David Cummings.

And now... We hope everyone of our listeners enjoyed a festive and spooky house. I want to publicly thank and commend the No Sleep podcast team for their stellar work for our Halloween extravaganzas. When you add up the season past Halloween bonus episode with our traditional full-length Halloween show, and the Halloween live stream we did on YouTube, we put out nine hours of Halloween content this year. That's a lot of work by a lot of talented and dedicated people. We hope you all enjoyed it. And now that the month of Halloween horror is over, we can go back to our normal routine of providing you weekly doses of, of, well, horror.

So why don't we do just that? Now, let's begin our journey down this lost highway. In our first tale, we find ourselves submerged in darkness, in the ocean, in terror. The skies have blackened, and creatures are rising from the sea. and the only way to pierce the darkness is with light. But in this tale, shared with us by author J.W. Wright, illuminating the situation requires a deadly swim. Performing this tale are Jeff Clement and Kyle Akers.

So look towards the horizon and don't gaze down into the depths. Take a deep breath. Don't inhale. Otherwise, you might smell the brine. The lighthouse should be right on that island over there. I looked around, knowing full well that it was pointless in this complete lack of light. I'm going to toss you into the water. When you hit the surface, don't think about it.

Just start swimming. I nodded, even though I knew he couldn't see. I've always been a good swimmer. Mom always said that I'd make the Olympics one day. My parents spent a lot of money on swimming lessons after all. I felt like I owed it to them to at least be good at something, and I knew I had to make it. I was the only one who could.

Eric didn't waste any time. He lifted me up and threw me over the side of the boat we were on. I'd have never jumped into the water on my own. We both knew that. I hit the water hard. I made sure to take a nice deep breath right before I hit the surface. I felt myself going under. The cold water sending a shock through my whole body, causing me to expel some of the air I held in my lungs.

We strained. It was ice cold. But I couldn't think about that now. I raced for air, the black void around me, threatening to swallow me up every second. I breached the surface. I listened in the darkness. The only sound I heard was the crashing of the waves. was it. I was alone now. I always fancied the breaststroke. I found it to be the quietest of all the strokes. If I did it right, it didn't make any sound at all. I've always called it the ninja stroke. I had to be quiet. Ever since the sky went black, the things that used to be at the bottom of the ocean all started coming to the top. And with a lot more room and a lot more room and a lot more food to eat, they got a lot bigger. And I say coming to the top because Dad told me they didn't all swim.

He said there were some things down there that walked just like us, walked on the bottom of the ocean floor, and they walked right out onto the land, killed a bunch of people, almost everyone I knew. They had these hard shells that the bullets didn't. work. At least, that's what my dad had kept screaming. He was a fisherman, always used to being at sea. I guess they smelled it, smelled the sea on him, and knew he didn't belong. He didn't put up much of a fight. There were too many of them. My brother, Eric, he's the one who saved me, picked me up and carried me, carried me into our hiding spot.

We hid until we ran out of food, until we absolutely had to move. And then we ventured out to Dad's boat at the dock. You may think we're foolish to come out here in a boat. And you're right. That's why Eric threw me overboard. He told me I had to go to the lighthouse and turn on the generator, that I would turn the light on. These creatures, they don't like the light.

and since the sun doesn't shine in the sky anymore, we figured that lighthouse was the brightest light around, and the light rotates around so it will keep me safe from all sides. Eric told me that if I turned the light on, I'd finally be safe, but I just had to make it there. Eric knew when he threw me off the boat, he'd never see me again. He knew the boat was a sitting target, a decoy. He jammed the throttle to full as soon as he threw me overboard.

He couldn't see where he was going, but it didn't matter. No matter where he went, he'd still end up in Davy Jones's locker. I heard it in the distance and splintering as it was dragged under the waves. I thought I heard a scream, but I hoped it was just my imagination. It's hard not to imagine. Imagine things in the darkness. When you're swimming in a pitch black sea with a black sky, you start to lose your sense of direction. All sense of your own self is just gone.

You exist in nothingness. Your destination exists in nothingness. With each passing stroke, you wince as you just swear you feel something brushing your foot. Perhaps it's just some bubbles or sea foam. maybe a piece of seaweed, but maybe it's not. I made my way in the general direction that Eric told me to go. I felt like it was the right way. He told me the waves would be coming from behind me,

and well, that's where they were coming from. The waves crashed louder and louder as I made my way towards what I could only pray was the shore of the small island that contained the lighthouse. I knew from the increased. increasing volume and rocks that I was arriving at least at some type of landmass. As I rushed to exit the water, I scraped my leg on a piece of jagged rock. That's what my dad would have said too. If he sustained the same injury, I felt my leg.

It was wet, of course, but it felt different from just the salty ocean water. It felt like, blood. Oh, God. Not now. You see, just like our beloved sharks of the deep, these creatures, though mostly blind, have an exceptional sense of smell. They can smell a drop of blood up to five miles away. And I didn't know how many of these things were in five miles. But I knew it was a lot.

I bounded up the shore, stumbling and sloshing as I trudged through the sand. I felt the white powdery substance sticking to my clothes and scraping against my skin as I made my way forward. I felt around in the darkness, searching for any kind of hint of a lighthouse. After a few moments of doing so, I felt a man-made path under my feet. A good sign. Now I just needed to follow it away from the water and hopefully that would get me to where I needed to go. A few dreadful minutes passed as I cautiously but briskly made me. my way up the path. My foot knocked into what felt like a set of stairs. I jammed my toe and wanted to

cry out, but I already had a trail of blood. I didn't need a sound giving away my location as well. I reached out and felt a handrail. I walked up the stairs as fast as I could go, feeling in front of me for a door. My hands suddenly smacked right into what felt like a solid piece of wood. I felt around, fumbling in the darkness, I found a doorknop. I went to turn it and locked, and I didn't have a key. So what am I supposed to do now? I started to make my way around to the other side of the stairs, feeling for some sort of a window. Maybe I could break it and get in.

I started to reach out when I suddenly stopped. I noticed something particularly eerie about it. the moment I was experiencing right then. The waves had stopped. The sound all around me had completely stopped. And suddenly, the smell of brine was overpowering. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I knew something was very wrong. I decided to stand very still. Maybe if I tried to be quiet and slow my breathing. It would go away. Slowly, miraculously, the sounds of the sea resumed. Things seemed to be going back to normal. I breathed a sigh of relief and began to make my way back around the lighthouse. I was determined to find a way in. I reached my hand out in the

darkness and felt something squishy, something undoubtedly fishy. My heart, a tentacle reached out and wrapped around my neck, began to squeeze. My world was already black, began to get even blacker as I fought for air. When you begin to mistrust your loved one, it can be tough, especially when their unreliability may be rooted in a struggle they're working hard. to overcome. Nonetheless, it's not a nice feeling when you're forced to question your partner. But in this tale, shared with us by author Jeffrey Walker, we learn that sometimes it's worth believing in even the most unbelievable stories. Performing this tale are Nicole Doolin, Peter Lewis, and Graham Rowett. So scope out the yard, pay attention to the sightings, the rumors,

Listen to the call of the nocturn. I had no idea how to respond at first. I just stood there, half paralyzed, staring into my husband's eyes. I was waiting for him to crack a smile, to start giggling and say he was only joking. But his expression was brutally serious, which served only to deepen the silence between us. There was no hint of that boyish mischief. if I usually see at the corner of his eyes when he's pulling my leg. He just gazed at me indifferently as he stepped into his sweatpants.

And then, as if he thought I hadn't heard him the first time, he said it again. There were people in the backyard last night, and when I looked at them, they hid behind the trees. Are you serious? Even as I asked this, it became clear that he wasn't messing around. Yeah. He was frustrated that I dared to doubt his sincerity. Okay, well, who do you think they were? Neighborhood kids having fun?

I don't know. They didn't look like kids, though. They were too tall. Slowly getting to his feet, he stood for a minute, gazing vacantly out at our backyard. A wide lot dotted with aspens and dying pines. He looked pale, and there was a doubt. distant graveness in his words. How many were there? I tried hard to mask the unsteady cadence of

my words, but my trepidation shone through. Five, six, maybe. And when did this happen? He scratched his head and squinted. Three in the morning, somewhere around there. I woke up and something told me I had to look out the window. Just had a... weird feeling, you know? So you looked out there and then what? It was just standing out there on the lawn, back along the fence. And I don't know how they noticed me. I didn't turn a light on or make any noise.

But the second I lifted my head to the window, they slipped behind the trees. He lifted one of his long, wiery arms and pointed out towards the perimeter of our yard. I didn't know what to think. I couldn't imagine why anyone would one hang out in our backyard in the middle of the night. We certainly didn't have anything worth stealing. But at the same time, Mason was so pragmatic, so logical. It wasn't like him to make up stories. I couldn't think of a single reason he'd suggest something so bizarre.

Well, that's not completely true. I could think of one reason. but I didn't want to admit it to myself. I hated what it suggested about the state of our relationship. And to us, the truth is, Mason was addicted to meth before we met. I've only ever known him sober,

but he's told me stories. He's talked about being strung out for days without sleep, about getting paranoid and seeing shadow people out of the corner of his eye. He said they were like indiscernible figures he'd glimpse in the periphery. And if he tried to look straight at them, they'd dissolve or slip behind a corner.

But he was a different person then. For as long as I've known him, he's been reliable, practical, clear-headed. He's always been there for me. He's always been honest. It's an uncanny feeling when someone you rely on makes a claim like that. It makes you wonder if they're losing it. It makes you wonder if you could too.

Hey, babe. Remember that stuff you would tell me about when you were using? About how you'd see things? Grabbing one of his hands, I held it in mind. He jerked his hand away and shot me a scathing look. I'm not using, Rachel. I'm just... He stomped across the kitchen and braced himself above the sink.

His head hanging low. It's been six years. terrible he looked so vulnerable so defeated i knew how ashamed he was of his using years and that there was nothing he hated more than having his integrity questioned come here i'm sorry let's just drop it whoever it was back there i'm sure they won't come back i held him close trying my best to both assure him and convince myself but i couldn't drop it not really There was something about the look in Mason's eyes when he told me about the people in the backyard that was so unsettling. I became nauseated thinking about it. I couldn't let it go, even as I went about my day, chatting with friends, buying groceries, grading papers. The episode lingered in my head like the remnants of a bad dream I couldn't make sense of.

Sometime in the late afternoon, I finally found some peace from the incident. I was propped up on the couch re-reading a tattered old Philip Roth paperback, sipping occasionally on a lukewarm cup of coffee. Suddenly I became aware of a faint smell permeating the air of our small living room. The stench may not have been pungent, but it was still unpleasant. It carried a light aroma of rotting meat, like a side of beef that was starting to turn. Euth.

I rose with a stretch and opened the windows. Then I set about digging through the fridge in the pantry, searching for the source of the smell. But I couldn't find anything in our kitchen that was even remotely expired. In fact, the longer I spent searching through the kitchen, the sure I became that the smell wasn't even originating from there. The scent had an odd property to it, something indistinguishable. It almost seemed to have no origin or source at all, as if it were the atmosphere itself that was rotting.

Eventually, I gave up on my search and ran a hot bath. I spent the next hour soaking in silence, trying to rid my mind of the day's events. Every few seconds, a drop would fall from the faucet and hit the surface of the water with a satisfying plop. I focused on each little drop, closing the rest of the world out of my head. I meditated on the noise until the water got cold. By the time I got out of the bath, the stench was gone, but that did little to put me at ease. When night fell, Mason and I went about our evening routines independently of each other. There was a slight tension lingering between us.

I held on to my concerned skepticism, and he retained his frustrated resentment. We didn't speak anymore about what had happened, but it had left its mark. The foundation of our trust was already fractured, and the episode exacerbated the uncertainty that was growing between us. It was nearing midnight when we crawled into bed next to each other, both feeling slightly foolish and emotionally exhausted. I kissed him gently, and as I drifted off, I found comfort in my hope that tomorrow would be a better day. Something moved through the darkness. It formed complex geometric patterns and whispered unintelligible secrets. It had always been in this place.

I jolted awake, taking a few desperate seconds to shake the image out of my mind. As my eyes adjusted, I scanned the silent still darkness. It was only a dream. My arm reached across the mattress, seeking the warm comfort of Mason's sleeping body. But my fingers only found a mess of wrinkled sheets. I lifted my head from the pillow and could barely make out a huddled form crouching in the darkness beneath the window. "'Babe?' "'My skin felt hot, and my pulse was thumping wildly in my temples.

"'I slipped out of bed quietly and joined him below the window. "'My eyelids were squeezed shut. "'I didn't want to see what was out there, even if it was nothing at all. "'I slowly opened my eyes and scanned the darkness. "'A gentle breeze lifted the moonlit trees. "'Otherwise, the yard appeared empty. "'I kept my eyes. fixed in frightened anticipation.

And just before I was about to rise and get back into bed, I saw a faint glimmer. For a brief second, something reflected the moonlight with an eerie glow, like the eyes of a house cat in a dark room. See? What the hell? I rose in a haze of adrenaline, grabbed a lantern and a baseball bat,

and stormed out into the yard. Halfway across the lawn and gaining momentum, I began belting out threats, doing my best to hide the fear in my voice. What the fuck is going on? Who are you people? What are you doing out here? I set the lantern down along the row of trees near the edge of our property and cocked the bat above my shoulder, ready to strike. As I weaved back and forth in front of the light, my trembling figure cast uncanny shadows across the branches. I continued to shout, my voice cracking with each syllable. I swear to God, I'm going to hit you with this bad if you don't get the hell out of here. After thoroughly searching the yard, I realized I was alone.

The glimmer had been nothing more than a wet leaf or the eye of a curious raccoon, which had no doubt taken flight upon seeing my stampeding approach. Slightly embarrassed, I gathered the lantern and returned to the house, cursing my cowardly husband under my breath as I strode across the lawn once inside I returned to bed without another word the next day I flew to Minneapolis to see my mother I didn't like the idea of leaving Mason at the house alone but the doctors had told me that my mother's time was quickly approaching

and I couldn't bring myself to take the risk of postponing my visit I sat in a cramped but otherwise pleasant room with my mother who, despite her sickness, was every bit as cheery and talkative as she had been in my youth. She asked me when I was going to graduate from school, and if I was going to get married, I told her I'd long since graduated

and was now teaching school, and that I was happily married to someone I loved very much. She smiled gleefully and ate a spoonful of jello. Then, after a few minutes of silence, she asked me the same two questions over again. I wasn't proud of the fact that my siblings and I had put her in a nursing home but the fact remained that she needed a level of care that none of us were able to provide visiting her in that drab and sterile facility was never a joyous affair

but in a weird way it always felt like coming home it reminded me of the feeling I got in college when I made the trip home for Thanksgiving weekend it was something I only did out of obligation but then when it had come and gone, I felt sad that it was over. I missed the nurturing comfort that her presence gave me. In the cool afternoon air, I helped her into her wheelchair and pushed her through the nursing home's garden. I knew somehow that it was the last time I would see her.

I wished I wasn't so preoccupied with Mason and everything going on at home. I tried to just be present with her. tried as hard as I could to hold on to that little bit of solace we shared. After the sun began to set, I squeezed her hand and told her I had to leave. She smiled because she didn't understand. When I got home, Mason had a quiet resolve about him, like he was satisfied with himself or had some exciting news to share. A faint smile hung around the corners of his lips,

but nevertheless he remained silent. As we sat down to eat dinner, he placed his hands in his lap and poised himself like he was ready to make a big announcement. I sat up stiff in my chair, gazing at him cynically. I know what they want. He looked at me with big eyes.

He was beaming with pride. It was disturbing. You mean the people you saw? Yes, I talked to them while you were gone. Well, talk isn't the right word. They don't really talk. They don't have to. But anyway, they told me what they want.

A shiver ran down my spine and I slowly rose from my chair. My heart was thumping. And what do they want? I began slowly backing away from him. They want to join us. And they want to become part of us. They've been waiting so long for this. My eyes began to water.

I wanted to scream. What was happening to him? I'm just going to go get some help. My voice was barely audible, and it sounded like it was coming from somewhere far off. Nothing in life had prepared me for this. Tears were streaking my cheeks when I arrived at our neighbor's house. Aside from being a kind, gentle old,

man, Roy was also a retired psychiatrist. I figured if anyone could help us. Short of checking Mason into the psych ward, it would be Roy. His face was gaunt when he answered the door, and an ear of concern clung to his brow. I tried to hold back my hysterics as I explained the situation. Roy just stood patiently and listened, his thick white head of hair sitting in tufts above his calming face. When I finished speaking, he laid a meaty hand on my shoulder and told me that everything would be okay. A rush of gratitude flowed through me, yielding even more tears. I waited on the stoop as he threw on a tattered old plaidnel, and then he walked with me back to our house. My breath shone in the cold night air, and the wide gibbous moon shed a peculiar glow on our path.

When we reached the house, the bedroom lamp shined through the blinds like a beacon. We're coming, Mason. You're going to be okay. Roy waited in the foyer while I went into the bedroom to retrieve Mason. I took slow, deliberate steps, worried that I'd startle him if I approached too quickly. But when I got into our room, it was empty. Mason's keys and cell phones sat on the nightstand, illuminated by the lambent glow of the desk lamp. My heart began to race as I combed the other rooms of the house, panic setting in deeper as I found each one vacant. Roy grabbed a flashlight and followed me into the yard where I continued to search.

But there was no sign of Mason. When we walked back into the house, I was bombarded. The rotten stench had returned, now offensively pungent, and it had grown more putrid as well. The rancid odor was now accompanied by something chemical, like charcoal or arsenic. Do you smell that? Roy lifted his nose to the air and took in a series of deep breaths.

Maybe. What is it? Something rotten! I headed out back to the porch for some fresh air. When an hour had gone by, and there was still no sign of Mason. I called 911. I seethed with frustration as the dispatcher told me that they couldn't do anything

until he'd been gone for at least 24 hours. Despite my insistence that he was an at-risk individual, they said the best they could do was to send out a patrol car to take a report the next day. Roy waited graciously, sipping a cup of tea at the kitchen table and assuring me that Mason would return home safe. When the early morning hours set in and Don began to approach,

I told him that he should go home and get some rest. He reluctantly agreed, but made me promise that I'd call him when Mason got home. On his way out, he paused on the stoop and looked back at me. Don't worry too much, Rachel. Mason's a smart guy. He won't let them hurt him. I nodded and thanked him before closing the door. It wasn't until I crawled into bed a few minutes later,

nearly collapsing with fatigue, that I realized what he'd said. I sprung upright in bed. He won't let them hurt him. What the hell was that supposed to mean? He won't let who hurt him? I felt like the framework of my reality was disintegrating beneath me. The ground on which I used to feel so solid, so grounded, had disappeared. Fortunately, the only thing stronger than my insanity was my exhaustion.

And before I could spin too far out of control, I slipped into the comforting hands of sleep. The piercing mid-morning sun radiated through the room, and I was vaguely aware that my phone was ringing. I drew my first conscious breath and was immediately hit with the stench. A storm of death and chemicals invaded my nostrils and sat burning in my sinuses. I reached for my phone hoping to hear Mason's voice come through the speaker, hoping just to hear that he was safe somewhere. But I was surprised to hear the deadpan voice of someone calling themselves a medical staff member come through the line. The clinical voice told me that it was unexpected,

that her condition had worsened in the night. The clinical voice told me they had done all they could. And then the clinical voice asked me when I, I could come in. I lay there, trying to reconcile the fact that a complete stranger had just told me that my mother was dead, but I couldn't. The day was cold and bright. I wrapped my arms around myself and shivered as I walked back over to Roy's house under the head-splitting glare of the sun. My body felt stiff and achy, like I had a flu coming on. Pinpricks jabbed at my skin. Even my hair follicles hurt. When Roy didn't answer after the fifth time knocking,

I peered in through his bay window. I don't know what I was expecting to see, but I didn't find it. The house was undisturbed and appeared empty. I gritted my teeth and lay my forehead against the window. What's happening to me? The afternoon slipped by in a haze. I lay in a haze. I lay in a in bed staring at the ceiling, immersed in the putrid odor. It burned deep into my nostrils until I could no longer even detect it. I wondered if that was what it felt like to die. By the time the police officer arrived to fill out the missing persons report, an indifferent numbness it eased itself over me. It wasn't that I didn't want Mason to come home, but that I somehow knew it was futile to hope he would. A sense of finality loomed in the air,

like a great cosmic door had been closed. My fragile little life had been swept away, and this strange new reality had taken its place. I slipped in and out of consciousness as the light was pulled from the room. In my mind, I was shown vibrant colors, deep fluorescent hues that could never be seen with the naked eye. The colors danced and formed shapes. Complex, blooming patterns flashed through my mind and descended infinitely upon themselves. The shapes whispered to me.

They told me secrets about the world that no man was allowed to know. When I awoke, the room was blanketed in darkness. Only the pale glow of the moon ever. texture to my surroundings. I could hear a distant buzzing, like a swarm of insects all vibrating to the tune of their shared hive mind.

When I really focused on the noise, I could hear something deeper, something beyond the monotonous hum. There were words in it, strings of incoherent commands that seeped effortlessly into my brain. As if in a trance, I swung my legs

over the side of the bed and got slowly to my feet. The buzzing voices drew me towards the moonlit window. Behold, the voices said from somewhere deep inside my mind. And there they were. Mason, Roy, and my mother emerged from the shadows at the edge of the yard. Beyond them, I could see others. Their pale wrinkled bodies tottered naked through the weeds. Flaps of skin sagged from their joints like an ill-fitting suit. Slowly they all turned to face me. I could see a pale glow emitting from their eyes, a glimmering reflection of the moon that contrasted their otherwise emotionless features.

The buzzing continued, raising in frequency until it sounded like a high-pitched wine. The penetrating stare of glowing eyes saturated my vision. And then their eyes began to lift. They raised their flabby arms at their sides. A gaping predatory mouth was opening in the stars above. The giant circular boundaries spread through the sky. Its jagged edges like the event horizon of a black hole. Constellations disappeared into the ever-widening mall.

And the pale naked bodies, their hymnal chant intensified. Welcome the arrival of their ravenous god. Terrifying tales. We'll return you to them in mere moments. But first, let me tell you about our newest sponsor, Woofley Woo, the dating service for dogs. At Woofly Woo, your dog won't be barking up the wrong tree when they... Are you done with your ads yet? I'm getting hungry.

Not yet. Just have the Woofley Wooo ad do, do, do doodoo. Woofly woo? Come on, that's silly. Let's eat. Tell you what? Why don't you use the DoorDash app to order us some delicious food so I can finish the ad while it gets delivered? That's a great idea. I've got my own work to finish. So much on my to do list. Not having to cook or go pick up food will help a lot thanks to DoorDash. Yep, DoorDash is the app that brings us food we're craving right now, right to our door.

Oh, like tacos? Sure. DoorDash is partnered with over 300,000 eateries in the U.S., Canada, Puerto Rico, and Australia. We can safely support our local restaurants, which is very important these days, or choose from our favorite national restaurants like Wendy's, Chipotle, even the Cheesecake Factory. The restaurants in town have always been such a big part of our community. It feels good to be there for them when they need us, the way they've always been there for us. And DoorDash makes that easy. DoorDash is the app that brings you food you're craving right now right to your door.

Ordering is easy. Open the DoorDash app, choose what you want to eat, and your food will be left safely outside your door with a new contact delivery drop-off setting. I love that part. We just open the DoorDash app, select our favorite local restaurant, and our food will be left at our door, contactless, and keeping our community safe. Do your listeners know that right now they can get $5 off and zero delivery fees on their first order of $15 or more when they download the DoorDash app and enter code no sleep? They sure do. Imagine that. $5 off and zero delivery fees on your first order when you download the DoorDash app in the app store and enter code.

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Waking up to find you've died as a real kick in the teeth. But that's the situation facing our heroine. And in this tale, shared with us by author D.M. Holder, we discover that death is only the beginning of the terror. Performing this tale are Erica Sanderson, Kristen Di Maccurio, Andy Cresswell, Sarah Thomas, Peter Lewis, Nicole Goodnight, Atticus Jackson, and Nicole Zulin. So take a trip into the forest beyond the veil, confront the creatures that dwell within, experience the afterlife of Daphne Green.

I thought being dead would be different. I had vague ideas of what the afterlife would be like. Possibly oblivion, which was okay in my book. Or maybe I'd go to a land of eternal sunshine and sparkling youth where there would be peace, love and happiness all the live-long day. or maybe I'd dissolve into pure energy and exist as part of all that is. Or maybe I'd scatter, and parts of me would be in everything, in every blade of grass and grain of sand. As it turned out, none of these things were the reality that I experienced after I died. My name is Daphne Green, and this is the story of my afterlife. The transition between life and death was also different than what I expected.

It wasn't like going to sleep in one place and waking up in another. It was more like slowing down, until each moment stretched out to eternity. I felt heavy, anchored to the earth, pressed down. There was a stillness then, like a long pause, and then everything started rushing towards me faster and faster, and I felt the air burning, light exploding and a roaring sound filled my ears. This continued for an eon, or maybe just for the blink of an eye. during which I had no sense of place or time or self.

I saw glimpses of everything that was, everything that could be, and glimpses of darkness, and beyond it, something much more terrifying. I drifted in a blank sea of nothingness, until time and place slowly returned to me. I knew with absolute certainty that I was dead, but I still had physical form. The physical form of my twenty-something self, although my death had happened. and much, much later. I had eyes that could see, ears that could hear, and a nose that could smell. I assumed touch and taste were as I remembered as well. My senses first detected darkness. The darkness had weight, and it enveloped me completely so that I struggled to breathe and was

on the verge of hyperventilating. I forced myself to take deep, slower breaths. I realized that my nails were pressing into the flesh of my palms as I clenched my hands into fists. I slowly relaxed my fists and stretched out my fingers. I looked around, and all I could see at first was inky black, deep and dark. Soon the darkness separated, and I could see the shapes of twisted trees that soared so high up that I couldn't see the tops. I saw dark, slimy moss hanging from gnarled limbs. The moss glimmered with green phosphorants and swayed gently like a moth-eaten curtain. A smell of dank rot cloyed at my nose and settled like a little.

a clammy film on my skin. The smell was strong and sweet. A mix of rotting vegetation, cotton candy and decaying flesh. I heard of rustling sound coming from the woods. A sound like a whisper, like dry leaves falling, like bones rubbing together. And I thought I saw a figure standing near a tree staring at me in the dark. I shivered, feeling cold. I looked again, and the figure was gone. Feeling the need to find safety and shelter, I'd. started walking, skirting the edges of what looked to be a very large forest. I glanced towards the trees, trying to peer into the dark depths, because in spite of the icy chill that was spreading over me, I was also intrigued and felt a strange yearning to move closer, to enter the forest and explore.

Snap out of it! I realised that my feet were leading me closer to the woods. I turned and put the trees at my back and started walking in the opposite direction. As I walked, my head was full of questions. Where was I? What was this place? And what was that forest? Were there people here? I hadn't seen any sign of another human being since my arrival in this place. I felt very alone. What if there were no other people here? My feet made a crunching sound as I walked, and appearing closer I could see that small bones littered the ground. Probably animal bones, I thought. I looked back over my shoulder and then stopped moving.

I had no sense of time, but I could swear that I'd been walking for at least 30 minutes. The forest behind me was no farther away than when I'd started. Turning back around, I saw that instead of endless nothingness in front of me, now there was a group of cottages in the distance. They looked a bit run down and the light shining from the windows wasn't exactly welcoming. But what other options did I have? At least there should be someone there who I could talk to, right? Maybe someone who could help me find out where I needed to go.

As I neared the cottages, I could see weak green light filtering from a window of the one nearest to me and I headed towards it. I knocked on the wooden door and waited. I heard sounds inside and then the door opened and a woman stood in the doorway. Without a word she led me into the cottage and waved a hand at a couch in front of the fireplace. I sat and looked around. An old man and a teenage girl were playing cards at a table, and a man who looked to be in his forties were sitting on a chair nearby

with an array of weapons laid out before him. He was busy sharpening a wickedly curved knife. I could hear sound from elsewhere in the cottage and assumed more people were about. The old man looked over at me and winked. You've arrived just in time, darling. Leanna here! He nodded at the woman who had let me in.

was just getting ready to take all of the new arrivals on a little field trip. The teenager giggled and rolled her eyes, and the man with the weapons looked up grimly. I shivered and rubbed my hands on my arms, looking around the cottage, which, despite being a bit worn and tired, was still clean and cozy and as welcoming as a cottage could be in this strange place. When will the sun come up? Liana looked at me. The sun never comes up.

This is it. Eternal dark. My face must have shown my horror because Leanna laughed Riley. It's not that bad. We're used to it up here. The teenager stood up and came over to me. She looked like she'd been transplanted from the 1980s, complete with frosted blonde teased hair, bright blue eye shadow, and a white romper with neon pink squiggles all over.

My name is Vicky. It's totally a drag that I have to tell you this. But... I'm dead. I know. Vicky slumped away dejected, and I turned back to Leanna. Where am I? What is this place? Leanna was kneeling half in and half out of the closet.

She began pulling coats, boots, knives, belts and harnesses out. This is the space in between. In between your previous life and where you're going next. The space in between? You mean like purgatory? No, not purgatory, though I suppose some would see it that way. This is a way stop. Well, for some.

For others, it's more than that. It's like a home. This doesn't look like any kind of home I'd want to stay in. The old man looked sharply at me. No offence. But the sooner I can move on, the better. This place is creepy and dark and that forest. Something bad is in that forest.

You're not wrong about that. Vicky began helping Leanna. There is something bad in that forest. The forest recognises its own. Everyone turned to the knife-sharpening man, but he showed no signs of elaborating. Don't mind Reggie there, he's okay. I'm Stan.

Care for a bonbon. The old man held out a chocolate-covered cherry. No, uh, thanks, Stan. I stood up and looked through one of the cottage windows. Nothing but the dark out there. I sighed and sat down again. I thought I was done. I thought that now I would be able to rest.

Don't we ever get to rest? Everyone looked at each other, but no one spoke. We don't. Not yet. One day, I hope. How long have you been here? How long? Oh, I don't know.

But I've seen a lot of people come and go. Why haven't you gone? I needed information, but wasn't sure if I've been. was even asking the right questions. We stay to help all of those like you pass through, and to protect those still living. Protect them from what? That icy cheerlight felt earlier as I walked by the forest returned. Protect them from the monsters that inhabit this realm.

Monsters! Better you see for yourself. She tossed a jacket and belt to me, then handed me a sharp knife. I stared down at the knife, noticing its sharp, gleaming edge, and turned my gaze away. What do the living have to fear from anything in here? Stan looked up from his card game. The monsters are constantly trying to find an entry into the living world. Some say they were once there and are trying to find their way home.

Sometimes one will slip through or three or five, but we do our best to keep as many here as we can. And what happens if they find a way? Death, murder. So you will hunt monsters? We don't hunt monsters. You do. We're just the backup in case any of them decide to come out of the forest.

Best get ready to go. Stan nodded, got up from the card game and disappeared behind the door. He returned a few minutes later with a group of five other people following behind him. There were two men and three women. One of the women, thin and short with blonde hair, looked on the verge of hysteria. Obviously she wasn't handling her afterlife very well. Vicky put her arm around her. It's okay, Karen. Just breathe.

We all put on the jackets that Leanna passed out, and I strapped a belt and the knife around my waist. Once we were done, Leanna led us out of the front door of the cottage. As the darkness covered us, I looked back longingly at the cottage in its green-tinged light. We walked towards the forest. From this direction, I could see that it's spring. as far as the eye could see across the horizon and curved around.

It looked as if the cottages were in a large circular space that the forest had not yet encroached upon. There was no moon and little light outside, but I could see the glow of the phosphorants all throughout the forest. It was beautiful in an eerie, eldritch sort of way, and I found, as we grew nearer, that once again I was equal parts frightened by and drawn to the forest. These feelings rumbled around inside of me, growing stronger the closer we got to. to the trees. We stopped 20 paces from the forest, and Leanna turned to face the group. In order to transition, to leave here, each one of you must go into the forest behind me. We waited for her to continue, but she just stood there, not saying anything.

And? And that's it. I can't give any further direction than that. But you said something about monsters. Liana looked at me with something like sadness in her deep, dark eyes. Yes, you will each meet monsters. It's up to you what to do when you meet them. Everyone began talking over each other then. What do you mean what to do? We kill them, right?

We kill monsters. This is crazy. What is going on here? I can't take this. I just want to go home. And then suddenly a high-pitched scream erupted from the forest and the trees began to wave their knobbly branches. The group instantly quieted. although I could hear soft sobbing from Karen.

If we go in there and meet our monsters, then we'll be able to leave here. If that is your choice, yes. I turned back to the forest. The twisted tree branches seem to crook their limbs and beckon me forward, and the moss pulsed glimmering light towards me. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the others, silent, fidgeting, unsure what to do.

Well, hell. I wasn't going to stand here and wait for someone else to move first. I took one step and then another, moving towards the trees. I was beyond terrified. I walked on and was halfway to the forest when the others started moving behind me. I turned to see one of the men, a stocky jock type, sprinting towards me and then passed me giving me a thumbs up as he ran ahead. I rolled my eyes.

I saw jockman disappear into the trees. As I drew nearer, the same smell reached out to. me, rot and sweet, repellent and enticing. My brain had trouble categorizing the smell. Was it bad? Was it good? Dangerous? Or safe? I began to breathe more shallowly. As I stepped into the forest, I had the urge to look back, to see Leanna and Vicky and Stan and Reggie. But I decided against it. I continued to walk slowly, following a sort of path. The farther I went in, The narrower the path became as vines and leaves and twisted branches closed in. Soon the path vanished entirely beneath my feet, and I had no idea which way to go.

Not sure of what I was doing, I kept walking. Shoulders hunched up around my ears, knife clenched tightly in my hand. I tried to keep my eyes focused straight ahead, but the horrors of the forest kept calling out to me. A figure dangling by its neck from a tree limb, a pair of hands reaching out of a pool of oozing black liquid, a human ribcage lying on the ground with vines and flowers growing through it. Around me the air was filled with whispers and rustling, and I kept thinking that I was seeing movement from the corners of my eyes. After a minute, I realised I was seeing movement, the movement of some of the others who'd come into the forest behind me. Lights flickered around me, and the

tree limbs continued to beckon me on. I don't know how long I'd walked when I realized I was alone and could see no others around. It was then that I heard a loud horse scream echo through the forest. It was masculine, and my money was on jock man. The scream continued until it reached an abrupt end and then all was silence.

Quieter than quiet, as if the forest had inhaled and was now holding its breath. Out of the silence, a silvery mist drifted down from above. It settled damply on my skin for a moment and then disappeared. I spied the part of it.

again just to my right, barely visible under a layer of dead leaves. I began walking towards it. Then I heard another sound, not a scream this time, more like a hum, a soft, warm, lilting hum that soothed some of my fear and replaced it with curiosity. I turned and began to walk in the opposite direction, deeper into the forest, led by the sound. As I walked, my eyes began to see the beauty of the forest existing a long sense. side the horror. Mounds of black spongy fungus wept bright crimson liquid. Butterflies with deep violet wings left trails of blue and gold light as they flew in spirals. Sharp spikes with needle-like teeth erupted from piles of putrid green goo, and small sparkling bubbles bobbed lazily

through the air. The more I looked, the more intrigued I became. What at first seemed terrifying soon became compelling. The forest wasn't scary. It was dark. It was mysterious. And it was... At that moment, I heard a rustling sound from ahead of me. Curious, I moved closer and saw a figure moving out of the undergrowth towards me.

It was a woman with dark hair wearing blue jeans, combat boots, a girly white blouse, and a familiar tattoo on the inside of her wrist. With shock, I looked up and saw my own face staring. back at me. I stood frozen, uncomprehending as I looked at this other me wearing my clothes, my skin, my face. Suddenly she curled up her hands and lunged towards me. Boom. I fell back on my ass and then scrambled to get up as she laughed loudly, holding her stomach. You should see the look on your face. The initial shock was wearing off, replaced by weariness.

What are you? She looked at me in exasperation. Isn't it obvious? I'm you, silly. She spoke with exaggerated patience, as if needing to explain something for the tenth time to a stubborn child. You're not me.

I'm me. We're both me. Us. She grinned and swung her arms rocking back and forth, toe to heel to toe on her combat boots, just like I did when I was exceptionally happy. No, we're not. We're not the same. I was growing frustrated now.

This stranger had my face, had my mannerisms. But she was not me. She was an imposter. Okay, I can see you having trouble with this, so let me explain. When you died, you split into two. Me and you. I arrived in the forest, you arrived, outside of the forest.

We're the same, though. Everything that you have, I have. Everything that I have, you have. Why? That makes no sense. I backed away. My body tense, ready to run. Like anything here makes sense.

She then looked at me slyly, pondering. You know, though, there really should only be one of us. There's no need for time. I mean, don't get me wrong. I'm getting a bloody kick out of this, but... Another scream split the forest, and I remembered why I was here. This is nice and everything, but I don't have time for chit-chat with my weirdo doppelganger. What's your hurry, darling? Don't you want to stay and have some fun?

I'm not here for fun. I'm here looking for a monster. She stared at me incredulously, and then she began to laugh again, loudly. Every time she came close to stopping, she looked at me and then dissolved into a fit of giggles again. I watched this for a minute and then started to turn away, but her voice stopped me. Don't you, don't you know? She stood up, her laughter dying. I am the monster. I sucked in my breath.

My hand holding the knife gripped tighter. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed the movement. Of course. That means you are the monster as well. I thought fast. If she was the monster and Leanna was right, then she was trying to find a way back to the living world, the daylight world, and I couldn't let her get there.

But what was I going to do? I stood frozen, unable to form a plan or even a coherent thought. Huh, I'm not any kind of monster. Oh, but you are. She had a wry smile on her face. "'The forest knows its own.' "'And then she turned and ran, "'disappearing into the undergrowth again.

"'I hesitated. "'Not sure if I should follow, "'madness, or run in the opposite direction. "'Ah, shit!' "'I turned and ran. "'I wandered for a time, "'hearing occasional screams but farther away now. "'It seemed that I was moving deeper

"'into the heart of the forest. "'At one point I heard the sound of running water and found a small dark waterfall glinting with tiny pinpricks of light. I knelt and cupped my hands drinking greedily. The water was cool and tasted of sweet, rich earth. I drank several more handfuls and moved on, guided by a growing sense of rightness that seemed very out of place considering where I was. In my previous life I had never felt safe.

Fear and anxiety were constant companions. Here in the forest I felt for the first time in memory, a sense of belonging, of contentment, of home. This was my home now, and I would do anything to protect it, even kill. As if to confirm this realization, the forest seemed to murmur around me. The murmuring turned into the sound of nearby voices. Moving through a tangle of slimy, hanging vines I entered a small clearing. Two women were there, or rather one woman and her monster. It was the thin, blonde woman, Karen. She saw me, and her eyes lit up with relief.

God. She limped over to me. She seemed to have twisted her ankle. There was a growing bloodstain spreading over the right side of her t-shirt. Her mirror image winked at me, pointing her knife at Karen. Can you believe this? Please, you have to help me. She's trying to kill me.

Karen panted, clawing at my arms. Her mirror image rolled her eyes. It's kind of the point, moron. As I looked at Karen, I saw myself, scared, helpless, letting other people push her around. I didn't want to be like that anymore. I wanted to be strong. I had to be strong.

I pulled Karen's hands away from me. She scrambled in fear, growing more hysterical. I pushed her away from me and she fell to the ground. she looked up at me confused. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. This isn't my fight. I can't help you. You have to fight your own monster. I watched then as she turned and tried to get up and run. Her mirror image grinned, twirling the knife in her hand. Karen didn't make it far before she tripped and went sprawling. She rolled over and then froze as her double stalked towards her. The woman bent over Karen and gently took a lock of blonde hair in her hand.

Then the knife came down, thrusting into Karen's chest not once or twice, but a dozen times, until Karen had stopped moving and lay perfectly still on the forest floor. The monster stood up and grinned at me, sprays of blood across her face, arms and chest. She was such a pansy. What happens to her now? She moves on to wherever she's meant to be. We both turned then as we noticed that a deep violet glow had appeared in the clearing. It grew until it formed the outline of a door.

The woman smiled again. That's my cue. She began walking towards the door. It was opening, and on the other side was the living world. I looked around the clearing, searching for help, but it was just her and me. I stood frozen and watched helplessly as she drew nearer to the door. Are you just going to stand there and watch? Wait and hope that someone else comes along and decides to do something.

She was almost there. I could see through the door. There were people going about their everyday lives. Are you just going to let them die? Don't just stand there? With a shaking hand, I quietly pulled my knife from my belt. I had to do what Karen couldn't do and kill her monster. I couldn't let her go through that door.

I felt a rush of adrenaline moved through me as I ran forward and raised the knife. I brought the blade down into the woman's back, knocking her to the ground. She tried to reach around to grab me, but I smacked her hand away. I pulled the knife out and plunged it in again, and was surprised to feel pleasure as I watched the blood flow out. I plunged again, and again, and again, and then again. When the monster stopped moving, I stood. My whole body, my entire being felt electric, alive.

Her blood covered my hands and arms. Her life, her future, ended by me. I watched as the door closed and the violet light shimmered away. I knew what I needed to do now. I ran through the forest, leaping over rotting logs, sidestepping puddles of gore and scattering a colony of bats. I felt exhilarated, invincible. This feeling was amazing.

I felt powerful and strong and... And unafraid. I finally found my other self sitting near a red pool. The violet butterflies flying gold and blue... circles around her. She stood slowly, brushing herself off and faced me. Have you figured it all out yet? The look in her eyes told me that she already knew the answer. I am the monster. I know that now. So are you. The difference between us is that I found my place. This place is where I belong. The forest knows its own. You want to go back to where the living dwell, and I can't let you do that.

My other self smirked at me. And you're really going to stop me? I really am. I smiled, and I knew that I would. Afterwards, I sat there with her for a time. I felt a little sad. After all, she did have my face, and in some ways she was a part of me.

I did what I had to, though, and both the forest and the living world was safer. Looking at her, she seemed peaceful, quiet. At rest. Maybe she was. I bent over and gave her a little kiss on the cheek. I pulled my knife free of her chest and wiped the blade on the moss-covered ground. Sleep now.

And then I stood up and began to walk away back into the forest. I looked back once and saw vines reaching for her, covering her, and pulling her back deeper into the dark, back where she belonged. This is my afterlife. It's nothing like I imagine. but I'm happy here. I live in the dark of a beautiful, terrible forest. It matches the darkness inside myself.

I speak to others in the forest who, like me, have found their way home. I occasionally catch glimpses of Leana and Vicky and Stan and Reggie as they bring another group of new arrivals to the edge of the forest. I think they know they will never leave here. They belong here just as much as I belong here. I wonder about the other places that. people go when they die. The forest isn't for everyone.

I'm sure there are places with golden sunshine, peace, love and happiness all the live-long day. I hope Karen is there and that she's happy. For me, my place is here in the dark, in the forest. You for joining us on our journey down the lost highway. The musical score was composed by Brandon Boone. Our production team is Phil Mikalski, Jeff Clement, and Jesse Cornett. Our creative content manager is Olivia White. I'm your host and executive producer, David Cummings.

If you would like to find out how you can hear the extended editions of our audio program, please visit the no-sleeppodcast.com to learn about our season pass program. 25 episodes, each over two hours long, and three exclusive bonus episodes, all for only 2499. On behalf of everyone at the No Sleep Podcast, we thank you for listening. As the darkness fades, it feels like you're going to. 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.