The NoSleep Podcast - NoSleep Podcast S16E16

Episode Date: July 25, 2021

It’s Episode 16 of Season 16. Our correspondence warns us to avoid the great outdoors. “A Fairytale” written by Jeanette Brown (Story starts around 00:08:25) TRIGGER WARNING!Produced by: Jeff ClementCast: Narrator – Nichole Goodnight“Whistler” written by Carol-Anne Morris (Story starts around 00:30:45)Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Narrator – Kyle Akers“A Small Light” written by Sara Century (Story starts around 00:42:45)Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Narrator – Wafiyyah White, Ashley – Nichole Goodnight“Elafiphobia” written by Marn S. (Story starts around 01:12:15) TRIGGER WARNING!Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Narrator – Mary Murphy, Annie – Kristen DiMercurio, Hunter – Graham Rowat“Pine Palaces “ written by Elias Witherow (Story starts around 01:28:00) TRIGGER WARNING!Produced by: Jesse CornettCast: Narrator – Graham Rowat, Carter – Atticus Jackson, Ken – Jesse Cornett, Penny – Nichole Goodnight  This episode is sponsored by:Betterhelp – Betterhelp’s mission is making professional counseling accessible, affordable, convenient – so anyone who struggles with life’s challenges can get help, anytime, anywhere. Get started today and get 10% off your first month by going to betterhelp.com/nosleepShipStation – ShipStation makes it super easy to manage and ship all your orders from all your sales channels faster, cheaper and more efficiently. You can import orders from any sales channel and ship with any carrier using their deeply discounted rates. Go to shipstation.com and click the microphone icon at the top of the page. Enter code NOSLEEP to get a 60-day free trial.  Click here to learn more about The NoSleep Podcast teamClick here to learn more about Sara CenturyClick here to learn more about Marn S.  Executive Producer & Host: David CummingsMusical score composed by: Brandon Boone“Elafiphobia” illustration courtesy of Jen Tracy Audio program ©2021 – Creative Reason Media Inc. – All Rights Reserved – No reproduction or use of this content is permitted without the express written consent of Creative Reason Media Inc. The copyrights for each story are held by the respective authors. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

With a fresh batch of sleepless horror mere moments away, you might be wondering what new frights await you. The good kind of horror. Entertaining, safe, pretty much harmless. But what happens when you have to confront real-life things which feel very much like your own kind of horror? It's not easy to go through that alone. And that's why we like to recommend the wonderful counseling services

offered by BetterHelp. BetterHelp is an online service where you can speak and text with a licensed professional therapist. And you might be thinking, I'm not going through anything major, no big crisis in my life right now. And if so, that's great. But BetterHelp is so much more

than just helping people through their deepest struggles. Ask yourself, do you feel like there's more you can get out of life? Is something holding you back from achieving your goals? You see, BetterHelp will assess your needs and match you with your own licensed professional therapist.

By dialoguing with them, you can identify and fix issues. which might be preventing you from growing and developing personally. And when you sign up for BetterHelp, you can start working with a counselor in under 48 hours. You can log into your account any time and send a message to your counselor. You'll get timely and thoughtful responses. Schedule weekly video or phone sessions,

all without the hassles of going to an office and waiting to be seen. And BetterHelp is committed to facilitating great therapeutic matches, so they make it easy and free to change. counselors if needed. And if you're dealing with issues that are more direct, like grieving, for instance, speaking with a better help counselor can really be beneficial. It's something I'm dealing with in my own life right now and I know how it's helped me. BetterHelp wants you to start living a happier life today. So visit betterhelp.com slash no sleep. That's Better H-E-L-P. And join the over one million people who have taken charge of their

mental health with the help of an experienced professional. This podcast is sponsored by BetterHelp, and No Sleep listeners get 10% off their first month at betterhelp.com slash no sleep. So start improving your life today and leave the horror to us. It's what we do best, and we're going to get started right now. The dark, the letters long lost and forgotten. There are tales of horror to frighten. and disturb.

Come, join us as we delve deep into the darkness. Into the sleepless hours when you dare not close your eyes. For the no sleep. Volume 16, Chapter 16. Welcome, sleepless listeners. I'm your host, David Cummings. Do you recall hearing the following stories on our show? The Little Man, Foliage, it sees you when you're sleeping, Caleb, sketchbook.

These are just some of the many stories we've adapted on the podcast by author Gemma Amour. And beyond the No Sleep podcast, Gemma has released many works, including collections and novels. But chief among them is her novella, Dear Laura, published in 2019. and nominated for a Stoker Award for that same year. It's a dark, twisted tale about obsession, guilt, and how far a person will go to put her ghosts to bed. It's a fantastic book that we hear at the No Sleep podcast are huge fans of. And so, with that in mind, we're extremely proud to announce

that a six-part audio drama adaptation of Dear Laura, written by Gemma herself, will be launching on our new line of serialized audio dramas. We have so many exciting things planned for the line, and they begin here. Episode 1 of Dear Laura will be releasing alongside episode 18, so August 7th for season passholders and August 8th for everybody. Each episode will be attached to the end of your regular no-sleep podcast episode, so no worries about seeking out a new feed. The regular episode will be its usual two or three stories running around an hour, then we'll include the chapters of Dear Laura after those,

so you'll be getting well over 90 minutes of content. And as an added bonus, if you're a season past 16 holder, you'll receive each episode of Dear Laura not only a day early, but as a separate episode in your existing season 16 feed. We are thrilled to be launching the serialized audio drama line with such a stellar adaptation of a wonderful novella. Further details of upcoming audio dramas as well as more details on Dear Laura itself will be revealed as time goes on. But for now, prepare yourself for a quid pro quo correspondence that's sure to grip and terrify you until the very last word.

So listen out for Dear Laura, the exclusive No Sleep Podcast Audio Drama by Gemma Amour, launching alongside season 16, episode 18, on the week. of August 7th. We can't wait for you to join us. Now, I think it's time to catch everyone up to date to present day. So we know this. Our storage unit is somehow now intact. The whispering pages then blew up inexplicably. We fled and the next information we received was via the news. An explosion had been reported on that block. But when emergency services arrived, there was no sign. of any damage to anything. The voice in my head, the malevolent voice that led me to blow up the storage unit seems to

have stopped. From the moment I was dragged from the bookstore, in fact. So between Joanna and I, here's what we've been able to piece together about the whole situation. There are two forces at work. One, our benefactor, who's connected to whispering pages, formerly the thickening plot in some way. Maybe he's the former owner. Boston Coleridge, but something causes Joanna to believe that's not the case. She won't tell me what yet, in her words, quote, in case there's still hope, end quote. This force is the one that

wants me to perform the stories, and we believe it to be benevolent. We believe it's the reason the storage unit and the bookstore were unexploded, I guess, for want of a better term. And whoever dragged us out of the whispering pages is working for this force, which I hope we're right about being a force for good. Then there is another force, the sinister voice in my head. The other person who contacted me back in episode 11, telling me to go back to the storage unit, which led me to blowing it up, but one who seems to want to prevent me accessing the stories I'm meant to tell. and the one who's been constantly warning me, this is the whisper before the scream,

and the scream is almost here. At first, I struggled to accept that this force could be malevolent, but then Joanna pointed something out. This force, this force seems to be warning me about the scream and guiding my actions in order to prevent it. Screams are usually a call for help. When Joanna was a little girl, a friend of hers went missing, along with her whole family. It was an unsolved case.

One day, years later, when going through the inventory she'd purchased from Boston Coleridge upon buying whispering pages, Joanna found a small journal. It was unmistakably her childhood friend's writing. She'd removed it from the store and kept it in her home. When she showed me, I felt the same electricity. I usually do when I know something has to be shared. Joanna has changed names to protect anonymity, but let's call her friend Jeanette Brown.

Nicole Goodnight has kindly read it for us. Joanna believes the contents to be true, even though to you, they might sound like a fairy tale. Dear Diary, Emma was mean today. She and I were watching TV, and Lily came in asking to go for a walk in the woods. She wanted to see butterflies. I wanted to go, but Emma said no,

and we aren't allowed to go into the woods or even out the house without her. Lily got all pouty and asked why not. I knew it was just because Emma didn't want to. She wanted to keep watching TV, even though what we were watching wasn't very interesting. It was about some older kids going to school, and they kept kissing each other all the time and then crying about it. I would cry, too, if I had to kiss so much.

much. But Emma is smart and knew that if she told Lily she didn't want to go, Lily would stop bothering her until we went. So Emma did what Mommy always says is the worst thing to do. She lied. She told Lily that there were monsters out in the woods, evil things that would hurt anyone who walked in there, even in the daylight. She even said there was a ghost, too. Lily got scared and started crying, and I yelled at Emma to shut up, which is something Mommy says I'm not allowed to say, I know Emma won't tell, because then I'd tell that Emma was lying and making Lily cry. Then Emma rolled her eyes in the way she does and said we were both babies and to go be babies somewhere else. I left and took Lily with me because I was starting to cry and I didn't want Emma to see.

It wasn't nice of Emma to call me a baby. I'm eight. That's too old to be a baby. Emma thinks she's so cool and grown up just because she's 11, but she's not cool. She's a jerk. Dear diary, Lily and I aren't talking to Emma. Lily wouldn't believe that Emma was lying yesterday, so I reminded her of all the times we walked in the woods before with Mommy, and nothing bad had happened at all.

Lily couldn't remember. I told Lily that we should go to the woods together, even though Mommy said not to go anywhere without Emma. But Lily said she didn't want to go anymore, and when I asked why, she started crying and said she was scared of the monsters and the ghost. Poor Lily. Emma can be so mean. That's why we're not playing with her or talking to her.

I kind of miss playing with Emma, though. Lily is kind of a baby, which is fine because she's only five, but Emma will never stop thinking I'm a baby if I keep playing with babies. I wish I could think of a way I could prove to Emma that I'm grown up. Then I could teach you to Lily someday when she's done being a baby, but people still see her that way. Dear Diary, after lunch this afternoon, before Emma could go back to the couch and watch more Kissy TV,

I told her that I knew she was lying and asked her why she was always so mean. I thought that maybe standing up to her would make her stop thinking, I'm a baby. I was all prepared because I knew she'd start yelling at me, and usually when she yells, I cry, but I wasn't going to cry this time, because I needed to prove I wasn't a baby. But Emma didn't yell. She just looked angry and said she wasn't lying.

Then she kind of looked sad and said she wished her own super, sisters would believe and trust her. I asked her what she meant. She told me she couldn't tell me because it was too scary and I would cry and get nightmares. Then mom would know she'd told and she'd get in trouble. And I knew this was how to get her to see how grown up I was. I told her I wouldn't cry and I wouldn't have nightmares and even if I did, I wouldn't tell mommy. And if I screamed at night, I would say I couldn't remember the dream. And if mommy asked, I would say Emma hadn't told me any bad stories. Emma looked like she didn't believe me, but she said that she would tell me,

that we had to wait until nighttime when Lily was asleep because otherwise, she would want to hear too. And Lily is definitely too much of a baby for that. I told her it was mean to call people babies, even though I agreed with her. Emma is going to tell me her grown-up story tonight, and she'll finally see I'm not a baby. Dear diary, Emma doesn't think I'm a baby anymore, but she's not talking to me. Now she's kind of acting like a baby, but don't tell her I said that. After Mommy and Lily were both asleep, I snuck into Emma's room like she told me to.

She was sitting cross-legged on her bed, and she patted the bed to invite me on. I've never been allowed to sit on Emma's bed before. It was so exciting. But she ruined it when she told me her stupid story. If she was trying to convince me that she was telling the truth or trying to scare me, she shouldn't have used such a dumb story. I'm going to write down what she told me. She told me that the town we live in was started hundreds of years ago,

but even before people were here, other things lived here. Not just animals or the Native Americans, but fairies. Yeah, she said fairies. Except she told me that it wasn't fairies like I thought it was fairies with an E instead of an eye. Ferrys? That doesn't look right. I should just write her dumb story. Here it is, just like she said it.

Hundreds of years ago, before there were people, there were fairies all over the place, especially in the big forest that used to cover our entire town. When Native Americans first came, they honored the fairies and left them gifts and didn't try to hurt them, and the fairies liked the humans. So when other people started coming, the fairies didn't mind it first when they cut down some of the trees to build their houses. They knew that everyone needed homes. They even offered some of their magic to help the people survive their first winter.

but the people didn't seem to notice them. They congratulated themselves for being so smart to survive the winter on their own. They told everyone they could about their success, which drew more people to the small village. More trees were being cut down, and the fairies were not being honored at all. There was no thanks in return for their help or awe of their power. A few of the new humans could see the fairies and see what was happening, but it wasn't enough for any of the others to believe. The few that could see and tried to talk about it were called crazy and locked away. Ferrys are complicated, and they aren't at all like Tinkerbell.

Tinkerbell is a fairy, though, so I don't know what Emma was talking about. Ferrys are powerful, magical beings, and they don't like being disrespected. So when the new humans failed to show them the respect they deserved, they stopped using their magic to help and instead use it for revenge. They caused accidents and destruction and even stole children. They would replace the children they'd change. took with their own children, so evil and wrong that the parents were forced to kill them. Some people fled the village after the fairies started causing so many problems.

They thought the village was cursed. But the village kept growing anyway, and the humans kept doing things the fairies found disrespectful, and the fairies kept fighting back. It got so bad that the few people who knew about the fairies got together and decided to do something. The leader of this group was an old witch. She knew a lot about the ways of the fairies. She could do more than just see the fairies.

She could talk to them and even summon them whenever she pleased. She used to be friends with the fairies, but the fairies had been torturing the villagers for so long despite her pleas for peace that she had forgotten whose fault the whole situation was. She blamed the fairies and thought they were cruel and greedy. She decided that the best way to save the village would be to trick the fairies and trap them in a way they could never hurt the village again. The old witch knew all about how dangerous the fairies could be, but she also knew their weaknesses.

They couldn't lie. They couldn't cross-running water. An iron was poisonous to them. The lying thing wasn't much use, and they were far away from any water, but they had plenty of iron. Together, she and her friends began to plan and go to work. For a week leading up to a full moon, the group dug holes deep in the woods, far from the village in the shape of a circle. They gathered all the iron pieces they could carry. Finally, on the night of the full moon, the old witch went to the center of the circle made by the holes and used all of her power to summon as many fairies as she could.

She told the ones that came that she was there as a messenger from the village to propose a compromise so the humans and the fairies could live in peace. But she needed all of the local fairies present to hear the deal and agree to it. If even one fairy would not agree and continue to torment the village, the villagers would launch a deadly attack. So all of the fairies were gathered inside the circle of holes. As soon as every fairy was present, the witch loudly started speaking words that acted as a signal to her friends

who were hidden in the woods around her. Quickly they put out pieces of iron in each hole and buried them, creating a barrier of iron. The fairies couldn't cross. They hammered extra pieces into trees or hid them in bushes or under rocks for good measure. When they had placed the last piece of iron, they called out to the witch, who had been talking loudly and energetically to keep the fairies distracted. As soon as the call came through, she turned and ran as quickly as she could.

But she had not thought of everything when setting up her plan and hadn't made sure her escape route was clear. She tripped over a branch and fell. It only took seconds for her to be overrun by angry fairies who had realized they had been tricked. Some fairies held on to her so she couldn't necessarily. escape and others rushed to the edge of the iron circle trying to find a weakness. But the witch's friends had done well, and there were no gaps for the fairies to escape through. They were trapped in a circle of the woods, far away from the village. The fairies went into a rage and aimed it at the witch, the only human they had access to. They tortured her, and she died screaming,

but she was the last human the fairies ever hurt. The witch's friends went back to the village, and never spoke of what happened again. Things got better in the village, and people forgot about how hard it had been for a while. The village continued to grow until it became the town we live in. The town has gotten closer and closer to the circle, but the witch's ghost haunts the area

so the circle is never broken and her sacrifice won't go to waste. Anytime someone tries to cut down the trees in that circle to build a new house or a new road, bad things happen that shut down construction before it can even start. Our house is the close. closest thing in town to the circle, and it starts just inside the woods in our backyard.

If someone goes there, the fairies will be able to hurt them. They're so full of hate now that they will attack any human, whether or not the human has done anything wrong. And if the fairies don't get the human, the ghost of the witch will. So that's why Emma said we couldn't go walking in the woods. Tyree, can you believe she expected me to believe that? The story did scare me a little, but I still knew it. but couldn't be true, and I laughed in Emma's face when she was done.

I told her I knew that she was lying again and how stupid does she think I am. And then Emma started crying. Emma started crying like a baby. She told me to get out of her room and that she would never speak to me again. I think she actually believes that story. Emma's stupid. She's the baby. Dear diary, I'm mad at myself.

I had nightmares about Emma's done. dumb story last night. And when I woke up from one, there were weird sounds coming from the woods. There are always weird sounds that come from the woods at night. Mommy says a whole lot of different animals come out at night and they make different noises than the daytime animals, which can sound scary. But last night, I could only think of the witch screaming and I was imagining that's what the noises were. But that's dumb. And I'm not dumb like Emma. I don't know why Emma believes that story, but I'm too old to believe in fairy tales. Lily has started talking about wanting to see the butterflies in the woods again. I think she forgot how Emma scared her. She told me the

butterflies look so pretty from her window, and she wants to see them up close and maybe even catch one to keep in her room. I looked at my window and I didn't see any butterflies, but that's okay. If Lily wants to go into the woods, she should be able to. After last night, I know I'm more grown up than Emma, even if she is older than me. I told Lily I would take her on a walk in the woods tomorrow. We'll stay on the little path and I'll make sure we can always see the house. And then I'll tell Mommy how grown up I am and she'll say that Lily and I can do whatever we want without stupid Emma. Dear diary, Lily and I went into the woods today.

After lunch, Emma went into her room and slammed her door like she has since she told me her fairy story. It was easy for Lily and I to go out the back door into the backyard. I don't think she knows we ever left. We started walking down the path. I kept checking behind me that I could still see the house. Lily was skipping ahead of me and she kept reaching out like she was grabbing for something and giggling. When I asked her what she was doing, she said she was playing with the butterflies. I told her that there weren't any butterflies and she ignored me.

I had to grab her a few times before she went off the path. I was scared about her going off the path at all. I didn't believe Emma's story, but It had frightened me, and being in the woods made me remember the part of the nightmare I had a few nights ago. In the nightmare, Lily was getting eaten by the woods. After a little bit, I don't know how long, the path started to curve, and I couldn't see the house anymore. I decided it was time to go home, but when I turned around to tell Lily, she was gone. I called for her, but she didn't answer me, and I panicked.

I started running down the path away from the house and screaming for her. I didn't have to go far before I found her. She was off the path, not very much, behind some bushes. I'm glad she was wearing her bright pink pants and yellow shirt so that it was easy to see her. I might have missed her if she wasn't so bright. I called her name, trying to pretend I was Mommy when she catches us doing something bad. Lily didn't even look at me, though, so I had to go off the path to get her. When I got to where she was, I saw she was digging in the ground.

I asked her what she was doing. She told me the butterflies told her there was treasure buried there. I told her that I hadn't seen one butterfly all afternoon, and that even if there were butterflies, they didn't talk. She ignored me and kept digging. This reminded me of Emma's story and the buried iron, and I got really scared, so I grabbed her and pulled her away. I pulled too hard, and I fell backwards with Lily falling on top of me.

And when we were getting up, I saw Lily had something in her hand. Lily looked really excited and then confused. She held out what she had to me and asked what kind of treasure it was. It was a dirt covered lump. Under the dirt was dark gray. It wasn't any kind of shape at all, just a lump. I took it from her. It felt like metal.

I don't think I've seen iron before, but I think that's what it was. I was getting more and more scared. I told Lily it wasn't treasure and that we had to put it back. I went back to the hole to bury it again, but Lily ran past me deeper into the woods. She said the butterflies were showing her a place where there was more treasure. She ran behind a tree and I couldn't see her anymore. I ran after her with the metal lump still in my hand. I found her behind a tree just standing and staring at something.

There was nothing around that I could see. I was so scared by then. I didn't even tell her to come back. I wrapped my arms around her and picked her up to carry her back. And as soon as I had her, she started squirming and screaming like I was hurting her. I've never heard Lily scream like that. I don't know how I held on to her, but I did. I dragged her back to the path still screaming, and when I passed the dug-up hole,

I dropped the metal lump back in and kicked as much dirt as I could over it. Lily calmed down after that, and by the time we got to the path, she was completely normal again. She skipped all the way home. When we got there, Lily asked if we could go back to the woods tomorrow, but I told her no. She just shrugged and went to her room. I don't know what happened. I'm not sure if anything did happen. Maybe Lily was just being a little brat.

Maybe I believe Emma's story now. Dear Diary, something is wrong with Lily. Last night she threw a huge tantrum during dinner because Mommy found out that Lily hadn't washed her hands and tried to make her go do it. She said she wouldn't and threw her plate on the floor. The plate broke and food splattered everywhere. Mommy got mad and took Lily to her room

and both of them yelled and yelled. When Mommy came back to clean up the food, Lily was still screaming. It sounded like when she was screaming in the woods yesterday. She stopped after a bit, but she didn't come out of her room at all. But I woke up in the middle of the night, and she was standing by my bed.

She was staring at me. I asked her what she was doing. She thanked me for taking her into the woods. Then she got on her tiptoes and kissed me on the cheek. It was all wrong. not just how she was acting, but her voice and her eyes. It was Lily's voice, but I've never heard her sound that way before. She sounded so serious.

And she didn't have Lily's eyes. They were blue like Lily's eyes, but the wrong kind of blue, not like the sky, but like ice. I couldn't get back to sleep after Lily left, and I heard the weird noises again, so I went to look out the window. There was a woman in the backyard. She was right at the start of the little trail into the woods, and she was looking straight at me. She looked so mad. I ran back to bed and hid under the covers. I guess I fell asleep eventually.

I'm not sure if the woman was a dream or not. I really hope so. I think I made a really big mistake. Dear Diary, I didn't see Lily all day. I want to tell Emma what happened, but I'm scared to. I think she knows, though, because she wouldn't. I didn't look at me all day. The one time I did catch her looking at me, she looked really sad and hurt, like I had done something mean to her. When I came back into my room for bedtime,

there was a something on my pillow. It was a dirty lump of metal. Your diary. In the middle of the night, I don't know why I woke up, but I think I heard a scream. There are a lot of noises coming from the woods, more than normal. I can't see anything in the backyard. I think the scream that woke me wasn't from the woods. I think it was from inside. Was it Emma? Mommy? Maybe it didn't happen at all. I locked my bedroom door. I tried calling for Mommy, but Mommy hasn't come. There are a lot of noises inside the house now. It sounds like when Lily threw the plate at dinner, but more. Like there are a lot of lilies throwing a lot of plates. Emma just screamed. I know I heard that. What's happening, diary? What's happening? Help me. Help me. Help me. I don't know what to do. Someone is trying to

get into my room. It's Lily. She's asking me to come look at the butterflies with her. She's saying we don't need to go to the woods. The butterflies are in the house and they're prettier than ever. She's shaking the door handle harder than I thought Lily would be able to. They're scratching at the door and pounding and they're going to get in soon. I just know it. I don't know what they are. I don't know what's happening. I wish I'd never gone into the woods. Please, I take it back. I'll never go there again. I believe Emma. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. The door open. I'm hiding under the bed, but I can see Lily's feet. She's moving right towards me. Oh, no, no. In our first tale, We join a pair of brothers as they engage in a time-honored ritual,

going camping and getting really, really drunk. And of course that's fine and totally safe, as long as you don't wander off and fall off a cliff or step in a bear trap or try seducing a mountain lion. But in this tale, shared with us by author Carol Ann Morris, even staying at the campsite won't keep these brothers safe. Performing this tale is good. Kyle Acres.

So get wasted or stay sober. Keep watch or fall asleep. It doesn't really matter once you're spotted by the Whistler. My brother David and I used to camp on some land out in the country that belonged to our father. We always set up in a large clearing in the middle of the property, surrounded by trees on all sides. It was perfect, really. Private, secluded, no one around for miles. On this particular night, we'd each head close to a hand.

handle of whiskey, which wasn't unusual. Needless to say, we were both thoroughly drunk. We went to bed sometime around 12 or 1 a.m., each of us stumbling to our respective tents and laughing like fools as we tried to unzip the entrance flaps. I remember collapsing on top of my sleeping bag and instantly passing out. Then, maybe two or three hours later, there was this sound. It woke me for my drunken stupor, but it wasn't loud. It was just so strange and so close. I first thought that I was just drunkenly hearing things. My head was spinning and pounding, and my mouth was as dry as sun-bleached cotton,

so I figured it was just my ears ringing. It certainly wouldn't have been the first time. I lay there for a few more seconds trying to get a grip, but the longer I listened to that sound, the more I realized that it wasn't my ears ringing. It was something outside of my tent. I then thought it was David trying to scare me. It had to be.

I opened my mouth to yell at him to shut up, but something stopped me. there was something strange about that sound. It sounded like whistling, but David didn't stop to take a breath or change a note at all, like you might expect. It was just this continuous, low-pitched whistle, filtering into my tent from the otherwise silent night. I listened to it for another minute or two, waiting on him to draw another breath, and he never did. And then a certainty that it wasn't my brother making that sound hit me.

I just knew it somehow. And with that certainty came an overwhelming fear. As a seconds ticked by, the whistling continued unbroken. I waited for it to stop, but it didn't. And I knew that I had to get up. I rose from my sleeping bag quietly as I could, swaying when I got to my feet. My stomach being it churned violently,

and the ground seemed to rock beneath my feet. I was still very much drunk. I fumbled in the darkness for the zipper on the tent flap and slowly unzipped it, wincing at how loud it sounded. I peered out across our dine. dying fire at David's tent, and I saw him crouched in a strange position at its entrance. The look on his face terrified me. His eyes were wide and wild with fear staring toward me, and his mouth was gaping open

unnaturally wide. At first I thought he was looking at me, but as my eyes adjusted, I realized that he was looking at something behind me. And all the while, that insane whistling continued. I craned my neck around and saw someone standing behind my tent. He was tall and big, bigger than anyone I'd ever seen. I couldn't make out any other features. It was like he was shrouded in darkness, a gigantic, hulking shadow.

And as soon as I laid eyes on him, the whistling stopped. It didn't even occur to me to confront the stranger, to ask him who he was or what he wanted. The flight instinct took over me with primal control. I stumbled clumsily out of my tent and ran toward David. His eyes never left the stranger behind my tent. His face was frozen in that terrified, almost inhuman expression. I reached for his arm and jerked him to his feet. Run!

We made for the trees. We were barefoot and I could feel the rocks and underbrush tearing at my skin. It was impossible to see. Under the cover of the pines, the moonlight didn't penetrate. We were running as blind men. And then the stranger started chasing us. I could hear his footfalls. They were heavy.

So heavy. It sounded like he had boulder strapped to his feet. The ground seemed to shake with each impact. I've never heard anything like that. Suddenly there was a sickening thud at my side, and David's groan of pain. He'd run into a tree. I skid to a halt feeling the flesh on the bottoms of my feet ripping away.

I yelled David's name, but he didn't answer. It was so dark. I couldn't see where he'd fallen. I spun around wildly trying to spot him, but all I saw were shadows. And those immensely heavy foot. but falls continued their approach. Closer and closer.

And then the whistling started again. That low, unbroken sound that had woken me just a minute before. Panic seized me and I ran. God help me. I ran. I left David lying somewhere there on the ground and I ran away like a coward. By some miracle I shortly reached another clearing. I put some distance between myself and the trees from which I'd emerged and stopped.

and stopped and listened. I couldn't hear the stranger's footfalls. I couldn't hear the whistling. I couldn't hear David. It was silent. I glanced around the clearing frantically wondering what to do. Coming to such a sudden stop caused a wave of nausea to roll over me, and I doubled over, heaving whiskey and bile onto the ground.

When I looked up, he was standing there, just outside of the tree line. The gigantic stranger facing me. He slowly rayed his right arm and I realized that he was holding something up. No, someone. It was David. I could see his face in the moonlight. It was still frozen in that horrified expression. But I couldn't see the stranger's face.

He seemed to be made of shadow. The stranger had a fistful of David's hair and was holding him up at an on angle. He began pulling David's limp body up off the ground until he held him suspended. and then there was a wet ripping sound, and David's body fell back to the ground. It was his scalp ripping away from his skull, unable to bear the weight of his body. The stranger didn't drop his arm, though he just stood there,

holding David's scalp out toward me. I blinked and he was gone. The stranger was gone. I stood there for a second or two, then stumbled toward David, his body, lay in a heap, and in the silver glow of the moonlight, I could see the glistening, exposed bit of skull, where his scalp should have been.

I shook him and yelled his name, but he didn't respond. I placed two fingers against his neck. There was no pulse. I didn't know what to do, so I just collapsed beside him and cried. I had no wits left. I must have fallen to sleep because the next thing I knew it was dawn. I awoke laying on my side, my knees tucked into my chest. I won't describe the splitting hangover headache,

nor the rips and tears on my feet and shins from running through the brush, because none of that man. matters, because when I woke up, David's body was gone. But lying there just a few feet away from me was a bloody, torn scalp. In a day as I rushed back to the campsite expecting to find David or at least some other trace of him, but there was nothing. Just our two tents in the remaining embers of our fire. David was nowhere to be seen. I retrieved my cell phone from my tent intending to call 911, but I had one missed call and one voicemail. They had come through at 4.57 a.m. And they were from David. I could hardly type my passcode because of my trembling fingers.

I pressed play on the voicemail and held the phone up to my ear. And all I heard was a continuous, low-pitched whistle. Wow, I'll be whistling myself away from that story and taking a break from camping. Are you saying that story was too tense for you? Get it? Like camping in two tents? No, Sarah. I'm not saying that. I'm saying that... Wait, what are all these boxes doing here? You said I could use this spare room for my new online business. I'm selling my own line of perfume?

Perfume? That doesn't make sense. Actually, I'm making a lot of sense. Get it? Like, sense you smell? Stop with the puns. And you need to get all these boxes out of here. Are these all orders? Why don't you ship them? It's not easy organizing all my shipping details.

And it's... really expensive. I didn't plan on that. Well, then you need to sign up with Ship Station. They make it easy to manage your orders and get your products out the door, so you can get back to doing what you really love, which for you is apparently selling smelly body spray. I call it, okay, sarah, sirrah, but tell me more about Ship Station. Ship Station is an online shipping service,

which lets you import orders from any sales channel. Ship with any carrier using ship station's deeply discounted rates and automate just about any shipping task. Super easy. That's why over 100,000 online sellers choose ShipStation. Will it work for me? I just have a rather small scented Shopify site. No matter how you sell, Shopify, Etsy, your own website. Shipstation funnels all your orders into one simple interface that you can manage from anywhere, even your cell phone. I'll bet it's expensive. No way. With Ship Station, you'll get access to amazing discounts with major carriers, including UPS, FEDX and USPS.

Easily compare carriers and choose the best solution every time. With Ship Station, small businesses can now access the same rates usually reserved for Fortune 500 companies without the contracts or commitments. That sounds perfect for what I need. It is. Ship more in less time for a lot less money. Just use our offer code No Sleep to get a 60-day free trial. Yes, that's two months free of no hassle, stress-free shipping. Ah, I see. I just go to Shipstation.com, click on the microphone at the top of the page, and type in No Sleep.

It's that easy. That's shipstation.com, enter offer code No Sleep, and make ship happen. I'll do it. Then I'll be able to get all these boxes. ship and out of the studio. And your business might be a big success. Who knows? Get it? Like the nose you smell perfume with? That stinks.

Now let's get ourselves back to the horror in the great outdoors. Quietly tolerating things you don't think you'll enjoy for the benefit of a loved one is admirable, especially when you're open to the possibility of having your mind changed. It shows a real strength of character, a real sense. of love. But in this tale, shared with us by author Sarah Century, we learned that sometimes

stubbornness could have saved you from something much worse than an unenjoyable time. Performing this tale are Wafia White and Nicole Goodnight. So next time you're taking one for the team, consider being selfish instead.

After all, your acquiescence might only be a small light. When I got to choose our vacation, we visited several landmarks in a half a dozen museums in Paris in Berlin. This was mutually allowed on the condition that if we splurged, our next trip would be more reserved. A year later, it was time to pay the piper. While I was on the phone with my wife's Ashley's mother one night, she suggested that we stay at their cabin in Northern California for a week or two. Ashley seemed reluctant at first. But her mom insisted and I agreed, more to tease Ashley than out of sincere interest.

When the call ended, I realized what I had done. We were going to be going camping for a whole week of our lives. And it was all my fault. I had never even actually been camping. But I didn't mention that to Ashley. camping was a natural part of her life. I don't think that it would cross her mind that a person could live their whole lives

and never once sleep outdoors by choice. It might have been our different backgrounds. She'd been a part of the wholesome suburban family unit while I lived in the middle of the city with an overworked single mother and three other siblings. I had never spent much time in the woods at all, and I was fine with that. I'd rather read a book at home or go see a movie or just stay in bed.

Truly, anything other than camping would be fine. I didn't mention my predisposition against all things nature, not because I didn't want to upset Ashley, but because I wanted to give her my participation with no strings attached, as she always done for me. Even if I was secretly bemoaning the trip, I didn't want to assume I would hate it. Maybe I wouldn't.

Maybe we would just spend the whole time talking and having sex. And sure, sometimes hiking and daunting routes that she had mapped out for us, anything was possible, I reasoned. Here, in my 30s, I might just finally become the kind of lesbian that loves camping all of a sudden. Maybe I would buy my first flannel shirt. The sky was the limit. Truly, the limit. This was a sincere hope I murmured when my friends looked at me, appalled and cried out,

You? Camping! As if the very idea entailed a forbidden merging between diametrically opposed concepts that could only end a catastrophe. As long as my beloved wife is with me, it'll be lovely. I said it with a level of sincerity that couldn't help us sound like bullshit. My friends moaned.

We eventually left the bar. Life moved on. Ashley made plans. I dreaded the moment, but the day of our departure finally came. ate an edible before we got in the car. So I had to admit the drive was amazing. Ashley was incredibly attracted to me all day. Even more so than usual.

I gazed at her admirably, as she took charge, helped me pack, got us out of the door on time. She calmly and confidently drove us out of the city and into the woods, listening to a lot of the shoe gaze bands that I couldn't tell apart, but she could, and occasionally mentioning fun facts about landmarks as we cruised along. My heart ached. I had married not just a gorgeous, talented woman, but also an amateur tour guide. I was so lucky.

I couldn't stop staring at her hands. gripping the steering wheels as the shadow from the trees overhead shifted and danced across her skin. I knew the first night would be in the cabin. So already I had my mind fully invested in our night together, completely alone and far away from thin walls and prying ears of our overcrowded apartment complex. It was like a dream, and it didn't end when she stopped the car and showed me the home away from her. home that defined so much of her childhood. Up on the steep's rocky hill overlooking the lake, surrounded by tall trees, there was a small

cabin. This was where Miami spent her summers as a girl. It was so wholesome. I spent my preteen years trying to look cool in front of the older girls, embalming cigarettes at the house shows while she was out here roasting marshmallows around. a campfire. What a nerd. I blushed with love for her. At a quick tour of the property, she pulled me inside and pushed me against the wall, and we made love off and on for most of the rest of the day. She was so beautiful that night, smoking cigarettes on the balcony and telling me

things I'd never known about her. The stress of her job was completely gone from her eyes, and she laughed loudly with me, and we drank wine and whispered sweet things to each other until early in the morning. It was late in our evening when I had got around to the question I'd been waiting to ask. Of the two of us, I was always the one that thought every place we visited was haunted. Ashley always disagreed, so I was half teasing her skepticism when I attempted a casual tone. Did you ever see any ghosts here? I knew you were going to ask. You always do this. You're so morbid.

I'm morbid, or the world is morbid. You are. You want to know because... Why? What will you get out of it? I'll tell you what I'll get out of it. You waking me up in the middle of the night because you're having nightmares. No, I'm brave now. Since when? Last week? Since all year.

You didn't notice? I never have been. bad dreams anymore. Why not? Some would say I conquered them by sheer force of will, but I personally would give all the credit to my beautiful wife, who selflessly supported me from day one. Ashley rolled her eyes.

Flattery will get you nowhere you haven't already gotten before. She glanced down over my body, lingering for a while before taking my hand and looking back into my eyes. Well, I can tell you There's a story of a woman in the woods Local kids told me They had a lot of stories of her Some of us saw her

If she was even real She was probably just a woman Who lived alone out here somewhere But we had stories My friend told me that she caught up to him by the river And told him when he was going to die He was never the same after that He um

He died not too long after. Baby, that sounds incredibly made up. Ashley looked serious. Well, you know about my... I also had a friend go missing when we were kids. Bell, my first girlfriend. You know, we all genuinely thought it was the witch that took her.

Like, how kids make things up to make themselves feel better, I'm sure she must have just run away or been kidnapped. or... She was silent for a moment, so I broke it. Well, if the witch comes after us, I'll protect you. I can almost definitely take an elderly woman in a fight. Ashley looked like she was about to say something else, but she rolled her eyes instead, squeezing my shoulders.

I'd like to think so, but these arms are like putty. Who needs to use arms to win a fight? My strength is my mind. I'm incredibly gifted in the art of negotiation, you know. She grinned, kissing my throat. You are. You really are. The second day is the day we should have stayed in bed.

Called the whole thing off and did absolutely everything in our power to avoid continuing this horrible, terrible, no good, very bad trip. If we hadn't had such a sweet, relaxing night, maybe. if we had been more inclined to take a second day of luxurious peace and quiet together. Instead, Ashley was up at the crack of dawn, gathering our backpacks and making tofu scramble for breakfast. I tried to start the coffee, but she stopped me, handing me a cup. Here. I kissed her cheek. Thank you.

No problem. I didn't want you fumbling around in here pre-caffeine while I'm trying to cook. Sit down. We'll eat on the porch. I obliged, reading the teen magazine from the 90s while waiting to be served. We ate together, basking in the sunlight, listening to the lake and the rustling of the leaves. Eventually Ashley stood up, a little abruptly. We should get going.

The hike itself was brilliant. Again, this is likely because I was high on edibles, but even with an abundance of THC in my system, I could recognize that our surroundings were truly something to see. It was sunny and there was a nice breeze. Branches jostled and swayed overhead. Ashley told various anecdotes about her family and their time hiking together, and I listened to her soothing voice without interrupting much. We stopped a few times to lay in the grass and kiss,

but in the end, I got tired much earlier than Ashley did. She was walking too quickly for me and seemed nervous and even a little agitated. But she was always so good at hiding her feelings that I couldn't tell for sure. We never been on such a long hike together before. So I didn't know if this was just how she got, but her eyes started through the trees again and again. By the early evening, Ashley was ready to set up camp. It was a place she knew well. there was a beautiful, grassy clearing near a river and a tree carving of the name of her pre-teen

friend turned secret girlfriend turned lost love, Belle. She left the tent and supplies with me while she went to go find some wood for a fire. She didn't come back. I waited, and I waited. I tried to stay calm. I stared at the carving on the tree and wondered what Ashley's, these other relationships had been like before she had formed into the person that married me. I have smiled thinking of how bad her game must have been when she was a teen suburbanite,

trying to impress the cool wilderness girls. Even those thoughts couldn't fully distract me from the fact that she'd been gone for far too long. The dread started to creep in. She said 15 minutes, but over an hour eeked by, with nothing. The sun was going down. I got worried. I paced.

The hive from the edibles was gone, and I started to crash. I took a step out into the field, trying to get a better vantage point to look for her. I scanned to the top of the trees and the hills in the distance. Nothing. I squinted. Nothing. Nothing. No.

Not nothing. Something. A figure moving along the path in the hills, far from me, but close enough to be barely seen. I waved my arms. Ashley! I realized then that the person in the hills was not Ashley. They looked right at me, their eyes glowing like a cat's. I gasped and put both hands over my mouth.

The figure moved quickly, too quickly, out of my line of sight. I staggered backwards, looking frantically around me. I needed to find Ashley immediately. Sandra? Ashley's voice, I turned my heart thundering. She was heading towards me from the woods, carrying kindling in her arms. Where were you? What happened?

I thought you were gone. I thought the same about you. Where did you go? I didn't go anywhere. I was waiting for you. No, I came back already. You moved. I didn't. I've been here.

She shook her head, biting her lip. She frowned, looking into the distance, searching the tree line with her eyes. How weird. I know it was the spot, the tree with my carving. I've been here a million times. I know it like the back of my hand. I was afraid for you. I thought something had happened. Come here. I trotted over to her. We embraced in the sunset. but I couldn't forget the glowing eyes I had seen on the horizon. And I was afraid.

I tried to tell her, but it sounded absurd when I actually said it out loud. She simply shrugged and said that we were bound to cross paths with someone on the trail. I was sure it was my imagination. They must have just been wearing glasses. I told myself all the repetitive phrases we say to rationalize the things we don't want to be true. But the worry never left my mind again that night. We had the supplies to make a fire, but it wasn't much longer until dark clouds rolled in overhead, and we were hit hard by an unforeseen storm. Ashley assured me that the news had predicted fair weather for the week.

In our small tent, it felt like a hurricane. The tent was waterproof, but the storm was harsh. We cuddled together. Ashley quickly fell asleep, but moaned and thrashed uncomfortably. I held her and worried. I had begun to drift into my own fitful slumber, and when I heard a soft noise under all the rainfall, at first, I thought it was nothing more than Ashley's troubled sleep noises, but it was coming from far away, a soft, gentle singing, in the distance, but getting closer. It was so hard, that the words were unintelligible, but it seemed to be coming from all sides at once. I looked out through the cracks in our makeshift tent. At first I saw nothing but the rain and the trees. But after a moment, I saw a small light. My eyes drifted in and out of focus

as I began to realize how tired I was. My body felt like it was slowly shutting down against my will. I fortified myself and tried to get a clear look. There should be no light. My heart began to thunder. It was getting closer. The song was impossible to make sense of, but it seemed to get even louder as I tried in vain to hear it over the heavy drops

falling all around. Rain gathered on my eyes and my face, and I tried to rub it away with dirty hands. The light was larger and larger. I began to panic, but weariness called me to lay back down. Though I fought it, I was falling asleep. In the singing, the singing was putting me to sleep against my will. I pushed aside the flap. The light had gotten much larger now, much closer. It was human-shaped, but not yet human, steadily walking towards us. My stomach lurch with dread as I realized I wasn't going to be

for long. Despite how hard my heart was beating, my eyes could barely stay open. I tried to wake Ashley. She must have been stricken with the same spell as me. Her eyes fluttered and rolled, but would not open. I tried to put my hand over my ears to force the song out, but it was too strong. The last thing I saw was a woman, radiating light, her features distorted, reaching her hand into our tent. As I fell face forward in the dirt, fading to unconsciousness, her bright glowing hand gripped Ashley's ankle and dragged her away from the tent. I tried to shriek, tried to grab Ashley's wrist, but my hand crashed into the cold, wet dirt, and the darkness consumed me. When I woke up, I was screaming, leaping out of the sleeping bag, kicking over the tent,

leaving everything behind me. It was morning. But still dark and damp. Clouds covered the sun. I called out for Ashley. I ran in circles, cried, and panicked. I walked to the center of the great field and sobbed. When she finally walked up to me, at first I couldn't process what I was seeing. Ashley, covered in leaves and mud striding across the field.

I leapt to my feet and ran for her, and we held each other and wept. Ashley pointed across the field into the trees. I woke up there in the woods. I woke up. What happened? I quickly told her what I had seen and how I had fallen asleep against my will. She was weak and wobbly, so we sat on the wet ground. We kissed and clung to each other. She was scraped and bruised, as if she'd actually been dragged across the field. I ached with guilt.

I wish I could have fought the person that took her, but how could I have? She eventually suggested that we grab our things and head back to the house, and I agreed, on the condition that we could also drive the hell out of there the second we made it to the front steps. Ashley looked haggard. She threw up more than once. Eventually she suggested that we ride to her brother's old rowboat, as far as we could back towards the cabin. It didn't look like she had the strength to walk.

I was shaking with fear, terrified that she would take a turn, and I'd be unable to help. I spent the morning on the verge of sobbing. I tried to be brave. We hiked to the boat, miraculously still hidden in a small enclave, and I pushed us outward along the current. We were going fast.

Which scared me because I had no idea how to stop us once we made it as far as we could go. Ashley didn't seem to worry. She was out of it. She laid her head on my lap. I saw her, you know. I immediately knew who she was talking about. The woman made of light. My hands stroked her hair gently.

I saw her. I saw her. I saw Bell. I think I saw her again last night. I think I saw her, but all made out of light. My stomach was doing flips, but I kept rubbing her temples. Baby, just rest. She shook her head, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She held my hand tightly.

We looked and looked when she went missing, but we never found her. I've been out here a dozen times since then, and I never saw her again. I thought I could ignore it when I heard this off. singing that sounded like her, I thought. I thought I was imagining it all. I thought I made it up, but I didn't. Did I? You saw her. I frowned and looked around, scanning the trees for any movement. Even then, it felt like there were eyes on us, but I saw nothing. I looked back down at her and forced a slight, strained smile. No, I didn't. We're almost. We're almost. We're home. We'll be home soon.

I don't think fell behind. I think... I think she became something else. Ashley fell asleep on my lap as we drifted down the river. An hour passed. The skies were overcast. The branches overhead hung heavy with moisture from the night before. I jumped at every sound, but eventually I grew tired, yawning.

Once, then again, and again. My heart began to pound as I realized that I should not be so tired as I was. I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. So convinced was I that I would see nothing when I turned, that it took a second for me to fully register what I was seeing. The woman, blonde-haired in a white dress with glowing eyes, an aura of light around her, creeping towards us from behind the trees. Her song began again, detached in inhuman, but unmistakably hers.

She was hunched slightly, but took long sweeping steps, her legs stretching further than legs could stretch. She reached the water's edge in seconds. I expected her to stop, but gasped when she did not hesitate to walk, right into the water. I tried to grab for the oar, but again, I felt my body giving way to sleep. Again, I shook Ashley, and again, she would not wait. I squawked and fumbled desperately. But the energy rapidly drained from my body. Her eyes stayed fixed on me as she waded towards us, unbelievably fast. Her head stayed above the water, and she did not seem to be swimming, but

She cut through the water like a knife. I continued to sob as I shook Ashley and weakly called her name. The woman's head disappeared underneath the surface. I looked all around, crying out. The singing rose up all around me, growing louder and louder. I pushed my palms over my ears and sobbed. Suddenly, there was a loud crash. She clutched the side of the boat, long, broken fingernails.

In blue-tinted skin, her face appeared over me, eyes glowing, her expression hateful and otherworldly. She began to open her mouth, and there was nothing inside. No teeth, no tongue, a void. I didn't have the strength to scream as I lost consciousness once more. I opened my eyes, and Ashley was gone. I shrieked and wept. I tried to stand, but I was too unsteady and fell back into the bottom of the boat, which was feeling slowly with water.

I looked around frantically, kicking my hoodie and my shoes off and jumped into the water. It was freezing as if it was the middle of the winter. I hadn't embraced myself for it. I didn't have time to think then that the water should not have been so cold in the first week of September. I dragged myself up to the bank. searching for any sign of Ashley. I screamed her name until I was hoarse. Where had she gone?

The woman couldn't have carried her all the way back to the shore, could she? If Ashley had fallen under, she was already dead. I thought of her cold and alone at the bottom of the river. Her eyes wide open, never to close again. I clawed at my arms and hated myself for falling asleep. Over my sobs, I heard the singing. I jumped to my feet, eyes searching the woods. I saw a small light at the mouth of what looked like a cave,

the woman, dragging something behind her. I recognized Ashley's shoe. She was pulling Ashley into the cave by the leg. I couldn't tell if she was dead or alive. Another pang of pain and terror shot through me, and I trembled so hard, my vision blurred. It seemed impossible that the woman could drag her so easily, exerting so little effort.

I scream, guttural, and raw. No! Rage surged in my heart, and I bolted up the side of the hill after them, growling like an animal with no caution whatsoever. I was so infuriated at the idea of anyone moving Ashley around like an object that anger consumed me and made me forget my fear. I made it to the mouth of the cave and saw the woman dragging Ashley further.

I ran inside and was hit by a overpowering inertia as if the air were quicksand dragging me down. I struggled to put one foot in front of the other. This was exactly the way I felt in the tent and in the boat. Still, I kept going, terrified that I would lose my wife to this ungodly nightmare creature. I fell in my legs bled, but I forced my. myself back up and kept staggering forward. When I had nearly reached them, the woman turned and opened her mouth once again, screaming so powerfully that it seemed to come from all sides at once. It knocked me to my knees, but I grabbed Ashley by the other ankle. I crawled over to her,

putting my entire body over hers. Blood from my ears dripped onto the dirt. No! The woman made no motion. Slowly, I opened my eyes and looked and screamed again. Her face was right next to mine. Her eyes were glossy and dead, but seemingly lit from within by a cold blue flame. Her lips moved, but they did not match the whirbled, unintelligible words that came. Her mouth began to open wide, so, so wide. I shut my eyes and waited for the end.

What happened after that? I could not say. A couple that had braved the rainy day for a short hike found us. I had shrieked so loudly that they had heard it from half a mile away. I'd still be screaming for help and holding on to Ashley for dear life when they found us. They called the Rangers, and the Rangers had called the police. The police had called the ambulance, and we were taken back to the city. After a couple of weeks, Ashley's brother Todd brought us Ashley's car and what was left of our things.

We were both so dehydrated that we were on the brink of death. They said it would have taken days with no water to cause such a state. In another couple of hours, we'd have died. Ashley and I simply listened and nodded. while the doctors gave us useless advice about bringing sports drinks next time and staying hydrated, as if there would ever be a next time. The police found our clothes shredded and arranged in strange patterns on the shore of the river. They attempted to return them to us, but I threw them away.

The months that followed were fought. Neither one of us could sleep. Our therapists didn't believe our stories. so they couldn't help us cope. We took too many sick days, and Ashley had to switch jobs to take a lower pay grade when she lost her patience and walked out of a meeting. We were still committed to each other, but struggling.

Rather than opening up, neither of us could talk about it at all. Our communication suffered. Ashley rarely smile, and I jumped at every noise. She told me only a little more about Bell's disappearance. How she had watched her disappear into a cave and had never seen her again. No. How she had seen her once more. But she'd been so certain it was a dream.

Scraping on the outside of her window. Singing softly. Pleading with her to come outside, to come back to the cave. to stay with her there forever. Today is one year later, and I can't stop looking out the window. Terrified I will see glowing blue eyes staring back at me.

Ashley came home for work about an hour ago. She took a shower and changed into her role. She made dinner for us and we ate, mostly in silence. She went into the living room and sat down in her favorite chair, sighing so deeply that my heart ached with sympathy, and I couldn't help but go to her. I stand in the doorway and stare at her, thinking of how much I love her,

how vulnerable and afraid I feel, how unable to protect her I was, and how hard it has been on us both to struggle through this. How sometimes I'm afraid that we're losing touch with each other. How scared I am that we will never bounce back from this. Before I can decide on what I want to say to her, she speaks without looking at me. I'm so sorry, Sandra. I'm so sorry I took you back there with me.

I'm so sorry for everything. I shrug and look at the floor. You don't have to be sorry. I feel that she might not know that. I might not have shown her. I immediately wish I told her before you don't have to be sorry. I start to say that, but I let the sentence fall away from me. In the background, under the noise of the city, I hear soft, gentle singing.

I'm hit with a wave of nausea and weariness, and I know we don't have long. I walk over to Ashley. She watches me wearily and seems afraid of me, or afraid I might leave, or maybe even afraid of herself. I realize now that there is so much I don't know, so much I've been afraid to ask. Does Belle still whisper to her in the night? Has she come to see me as a burden? Does she resent me for keeping them apart? Is this the day that she finally opens the window and lets her in? I look into my wife's watery eyes, and it's hard for me to say for sure what she's feeling. I smile

weakly at her until she smiles back, but I can tell we both want to cry. I take a tentative step forward, then drop to my knees. I kiss her hand and I rest my head on her legs.

Ashley doesn't move for a long time. Then I feel her hand, gently touch the back of my head, stroking my hair. Her fingers tighten around the base of my pony, detail. The singing gets closer. A small light gets bigger. As we place the letters back in their envelopes, it's time to take our leave for now. The musical score was composed by Brandon Boone.

Our production team is Phil Mikulski, Jeff Clement, and Jesse Cornett. Our creative content manager is Olivia White. Our editor-in-chief is Jessica McAvoy. 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 $25. On behalf of everyone at the No Sleep Podcast, we thank you for listening and for being ever curious.

This audio production is copyright 2021 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.