The NoSleep Podcast - NoSleep Podcast S3E24

Episode Date: April 27, 2014

It's episode 24 of Season 3. We have six tales for you in this episode featuring stories about sibling scares, shocking sounds, and strange scribes. The full episode features the following stories. The free version features only the first two tales.  "The Manson Family" written by Lena Caulfield and read by Jessica McEvoy. Music by Brandon Boone. (Story starts at 00:03:45) "Channel 6" written by Sean Elwood and read by David Cummings. (Story starts at 00:21:15) "I Need Sound to Stay Normal" written by Mika Tateyama and read by Christina Scholz. Music by Brandon Boone. (Story starts at 00:52:00) "I Never Saw the Light" written by Joshua Pinon and read by David Cummings. Music by Brandon Boone. (Story starts at 01:05:40) "How To Write a NoSleep Hit" written by Anton Scheller and read by Peter Lewis. (Story starts at 01:17:10) "Box Fort" written by Julie Taylor and read by Rebecca Peason. (Story starts at 01:40:45) Click here to learn more about Joshua Pinon Click here to learn more about Anton Scheller Click here to learn more about Rebecca Peason Click here to learn more about Peter Lewis Podcast produced by: David Cummings Music & Sound Design by: David Cummings, unless otherwise noted The NoSleep Podcast uses the PSE Hybrid Library exclusively for its sound design. This podcast is licensed under a Creative Commons License 2014. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

As the sunlight fades to darkness, the frightful tales creep into your mind. There will be no sleep. And I can't sleep. And now I was listening. There's little boys who died. It's in the window. Brace yourself for the no sleep podcast. It's episode 24 of season.

3. Welcome to the show. I'm your host, David Cummings. We have six tales for you in this episode, featuring stories about sibling scares, shocking sounds, and strange scribes. Well, we've reached the penultimate episode of season 3, with only the season finale left to go. And even though we're late in the season, it's never too late to introduce a season. new narrator to our ranks. Rebecca Peezen is joining us for the first time, and it certainly won't be her last. She shares her talent with us on the final story, and I'm certainly glad she's with us. I'm excited about having more excellent female narrators contributing to the recent shows,

and this episode is no exception. Jessica McAvoy continues to share her talent with us, and longtime favorite, Christina Schultz returns for another story. Some people have been asking me when they can sign up for season pass four. The pre-orders will begin on May 11th. That's the day the season finale is released. There will be a link at the no-sleeppodcast.com, and signing up will be quick and easy.

I'll go over some of the new features coming in season four on the season finale episode, but I did want to mention that one of the features will be a new way to pay for the season pass. Along with PayPal, you can now choose to use Stripe for credit card payments. This will be especially useful for our listeners outside of North America who have had problems using their credit cards via PayPal. So make sure you join us for the season finale to learn more about how you can enjoy all the full-length episodes in Season 4. Okay, let's turn our attention from Season 4 to Episode 24 as we start the show.

In our first tale, we meet a family that isn't very popular with the neighbors. They're noisy and disruptive, but that's not the main problem. As author Lena Calfield explains, it was one event that made them outcasts in the neighborhood and subjects of whispered rumors. Narrator Jessica McAvoy reads the tale for us as we learn why these people came to be known as the Manson family. My family was always known as the Loud family on the block. If you ever grew up or lived in a middle-class neighborhood,

you know what I'm talking about. You know, the type of family all the neighbors couldn't help but be familiar with. We weren't particularly neighborly or friendly or kind, but everyone knew who we were. They couldn't help it. It was inevitable. We were loud fighters. My parents separated when I was 13, but the fighting didn't stop then.

In fact, that was around the time when our lives really deteriorated. The constant fighting between my parents was exasperated by the fact that they were only separated and not technically legally divorced. At this time, my father was forced to live in a cold, unfinished basement suite of a $2 million heritage house. I mean, of course you'd be kind of pissed, right? I didn't blame him for resenting my mom, for hating her, for taking away everything that he worked so hard for. My mom was the perpetual bitch in my eyes, but my father could do no wrong.

He was the one getting screwed over, at least from my 13-year-old perspective. My dad might have copped out of the marriage long before my parents declared their separation. However, he never copped out of being a father to me. One night in our old house, after eating a nutritious dinner of pizza pops and jalapeno Miss Vicki's chips in my bedroom, my little brother opened my bedroom door. As he stood in the doorway, he gave me a strange look. He was pulling on his left ear. I'd seen him do this before.

When Chris was seven, his OCD tendencies had begun rapidly to worsen. By the time he was nine years old, he had a full-fledged clinical case of OCD. Chris, get out. I'm watching TV, I said. I was watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and he needed to fuck off. He'd become increasingly paranoid about trivial things, and I wasn't about to allow his obsessive thoughts and compulsive behavior interfere with my mindless viewing of one of the only good vampire series of our time. There's something going on in the basement.

There's... He paused as his alert eyes flickered around the room. There's somebody down there. We need Dad. His obsessive thoughts and compulsions were really getting excessive. However, even at 13, I recognized my brother's compulsions as involuntary, unlike my father. Dad doesn't come home much anymore.

I doubt we'll see him at all tonight. Not when he has that new, glamorous plastic girlfriend to spoil, I said. I know, he's at the basketball game. I just called him. It doesn't end for another hour, and he's all the way downtown. Chris was gnawing on his bottom lip nervously. The skin on his face was a perpetual shade of white, but that night it looked translucent.

His dry, cracked hands from too many hours spent washing and rewashing, gripped the handle of my door shakily. Oh, right. He would be at the game, wouldn't he? I'd just remember my dad had taken a client to the game instead of me. My dad always brought me to basketball games. It was our thing, our chance to bond. We could escape our tens' household and eat greasy nachos and drink limitless amounts

of root beer. It was perfect. My dad never once took Chris to a game, but for some reason this never bothered him. Chris just accepted it. My dad was ashamed of him. Chris was shivering, which was odd, even for him, on a sweltering August night. Can I watch TV with you? Yes, pathetically pulling on his left ear, eight times.

It was always eight times. I huffed. Fine, but you need to get out after the show. I'm expecting an important phone call later. That was a lie. He and I both knew it. Not many of my friends had calls as they found out. what happened on the night of June 2nd.

Chris gave me a weak smile. He quickly crawled in bed beside me and pulled my covers up to his chin. He was still nervously pulling on his left ear. I could practically hear him counting in his head. It irritated me, but for the first time ever, I chose to ignore it. After the show's over, will you please check downstairs? I made sure to lock the door. He anxiously looked up at me.

Is it okay if I pray now? Chris, you know what the doctor said about praying. It's become too ritualistic or whatever. It's not good. Don't do it. Chris often recited a prayer eight times in a row to reduce his anxiety. My parents had also caught him engaged in strange rituals triggered by a deep-seated religious fear. I'd never seen him do his rituals, and I was glad. I didn't want to.

It's important to note that we weren't some crazy religious family. My brother and I were baptized Catholic. However, we rarely went to church. Chris started praying daily when he was six years old. After my parents sent him to a Christian summer camp, he came back a religious fanatic. He had picked up these creepy rituals that he swore a camp counselor had taught him to do whenever he felt a demonic spirit eroding away at his conscience or tempting him, he would say. That's an awful lot of shit for a six-year-old to be concerned with, and I truly pitied him.

I did. but most of the time his excessive counting and his rituals infuriated me. They infuriated my dad even more. My mother barely noticed them. She rarely noticed anything we did. I don't think it's such a good idea that you go downstairs after all, Chris said after the show ended. He shifted uncomfortably beside me and I could hear him discreetly counting under his breath. He had been muttering prayers to himself for the past hour.

Can you call dad? Maybe. Maybe he'll come home sooner if you'll. You call him. He looked at me seriously and handed me the cordless phone. I wasn't remotely concerned that there was someone in our basement. This wasn't the first time my brother had reacted this way. But he was clearly nervous, and I didn't want him to have a full-on panic attack, so I called my dad.

I went straight to voicemail. Dad, it's me. Chris and I were wondering when you're getting home. I looked at Chris. He was tapping his inner thigh with his pointer finger and counting to eight repeatedly under his breath. Chris is getting anxious, so yeah, it'd be great if you'd get home soon. Just then Chris janked the phone out of my hand. Please, Dad, this time it's for real. He said breathlessly before hanging up.

It was difficult for me to empathize with my brother. I looked at him with a mixture of annoyance and some penny. His left ear was a violent shade of red from his compulsive ear pulling. You really have to stop doing that! I grabbed his wrist steadily. I was much stronger than him, but he resisted. Do you think Dad will ever forgive me? Chris asked, cutting off my train of thought.

I suddenly felt a pang of sadness as I looked into his eyes. No, I thought. But instead, I said, of course. His eyes widened in the sides of his mouth started to twitch. You know how Dad is, I tried to say reassuringly. He's Mr. Tough Guy, but deep down, you know he loves you. I ruffled his hair. I was getting to be a pro with this pseudo-comfiting stuff.

I let my brother sleep on the floor in my room that night because my father never came home. No one in our neighborhood will forget the night of June 2nd. We had been known as the Loud family, but after that night, we were known as the damaged, psychotic family. Kids were no longer allowed to play at our house. Women gave my mother disapproving looks at the grocery store and her alleged friends stopped returning her phone calls. neighbor sneered at my father as he mowed alone whispering, That's him, that's the one. And I can't believe he got away with it.

How does his wife sleep at night? I was sleeping over my best friend Jillian's house on June 2nd. That was the night my brother went crazy. It was a warm summer night. The air smelled like barbecue, and all the children in the neighborhood had gotten together to play a game of Kick the Can. I was on the winning team. I don't even think Chris was playing.

He was probably inside polishing her. his remote control airplanes are in the bathroom, standing over the sink, scrubbing his hands were off. My father was out of town that night. At 8 p.m., Chris frantically ran out of our house and knocked on our neighbor in Mr. Henderson's store. He told Mr. Henderson he needed to use the phone immediately because he'd found something in our basement. In front of Mr. Henderson, Chris told the operator that he had found three dead bodies in our basement, one child and two adults. He said the bodies were wrapped in saran wrap and they all shared the same blonde-colored hair. He told the operator their saran-rat faces were covered in small incisions and the child's eyeballs

were missing. The police showed up shortly afterwards. No dead bodies were found. However, Chris was right about something. An empty box of saran wrap was found on the floor in the basement. That was it. So, of course, we had to take Chris to get a psychiatric assessment because it was evident he had merely hallucinated the dead bodies. Doctors at the Psychiatrics Center made an initial assessment that Chris was suffering from a severe case of OCD, which was interfering with his ability to think coherently and mentally clouding his thought process, which may have led to his hallucination. I didn't think people with OCD hallucinated.

My mother pushed for a diagnosis of schizophrenia, claiming Chris showed schizophrenic tendencies. But to her and my father's disappointment, the doctor said that it was highly unlikely. It was far too early to tell if Chris was suffering from schizophrenia, and we have to wait another 10 or so years. to find out. Shortly after Chris's assessment, there was a news report about a missing family that had been murdered approximately a week before Chris claimed he found the bodies. Then skull and bone fragments were found buried in the forest behind the public high school near our house. The family all had blonde-colored hair, blue eyes, and fair skin. The family's bodies were severely mutilated. The mother was missing limbs and their faces were covered in vertical incisions. The child's eyes

were missing. It didn't seem like a coincidence that this family was found a week after my brother claimed he saw the bodies. Clearly, this was when the neighbor started to talk. This was when our family got the notorious reputation. This was when the asshole kids on the blog started calling us the Manson family. People love to fabricate stories. People love to have dirt on other people. After what happened to our family, I honestly believe that as a human race, we are inherently savage creatures that take great pleasure in seeing others suffer. I also learned that words hurt more than fists do. My father ended up moving out soon after the whole dead body in the basement controversy.

Some of the neighbors actually petitioned him to leave for the sake of the children. I believe my father was innocent. There was no evidence aside from the fact that my loony brother said he saw three bodies that appeared to look similar to three deceased people found buried near our house a week later. Even my brother felt horrible for his hallucination. No one in our town seemed to understand the concept of innocent until proven guilty? At around the time my father moved out, my mother started drinking heavily.

She'd always used the liquor to no more senses, but after the whole fiasco with Chris, she started to self-medicate with vodka. Every morning I could smell the potent smell of vodka in her orange juice. It was distracting. I could barely focus in school. Some of my friends stood up for me when kids called my father a murderer. who simply knew how to cover his tracks.

How does it feel? Your brother must feel guilty for spilling the beans, huh? Some kids said to me after school one day. I punched him square in the nose and told him to never talk about my family again. He called me a dirty cunt and I got suspended from school. I was suspended for two weeks. I did my classwork in the mornings and had the rest of the day to hang out at home doing whatever I wanted. As my mother was absent or passed out in the bathtub or something,

and my father had already moved out. I remember hearing my mother call me from her bedroom on the second week of my suspension. Uh, mom, kind of busy working on my homework, I lied. She kept calling my name, but eventually her voice faded. It wasn't until later that afternoon that I finally went into her room to check on her. Her door was locked, so I called in to tell her to open it, but there was no response. Great, I thought. She's probably passed out in the bathtub again, and I'll have to pull her out. I went to my washroom and grabbed a hair club.

I taught myself to use a hair clip to open her door when I was 11 and thought she was legitimately dead. In seconds, I unlocked her door. She wasn't in her room. The window beside her bed was wide open. She must be in the bathtub, I thought. I pushed open the bathroom door and found her in the tub. Mom, wake up. I'm pretty sure you've been in here sleeping for three hours.

I shook her shoulders and pulled on her arm. She was silent. I tried to lift her, but she was silent. too heavy. She felt like dead weight. I splashed cold water on her face and screamed at the top of my lungs. Nothing. I felt her pulse. Thank God. I felt a heartbeat. Just then she opened her eyes. They were bloodshot red and her black mascara and Iler were smeared across her face. She blinked up at me and said three words I will never forget. Your brother knows. Those were the last words. I heard her.

speak. She died of an overdose shortly after. The autopsy said that my mother had taken two bottles of tracadone with vodka before her overdose. Chris got home from school as the ambulance left our property. He found me in tears sitting on our back steps. I told him everything, and for the first time in both our lives, he comforted me. It's been years since my mother's suicide. After my mother's death, we moved out the city. The town gossip was too much for all of us mentally to handle, and we needed to restart our labs fresh. Another thing that changed after my mother's death was Chris. His OCD tendency stopped, and he became a cool, calm, and collected version of himself. My brother and my father's relationship also changed. They shared a mutual respect for one another

and finally learned how to coexist in what our therapist would call a healthy way. I've tried to move on and forget what my mother said to me the night that bathroom before she died, but of course, like any normal person, I haven't been able to. I've never told anyone what she said for fear that my father or someone would be held accountable for the deaths of that family. My father could be a dick, but he wasn't a murderer. I've rationalized to myself for the past few years. My mom was always an alcoholic. It wasn't surprising that she had suicidal tendencies. I would tell myself every night before I went to sleep. Last night, as I washed my face, I heard my brother and father whispering in my brother's bedroom.

It sounded like my brother was crying. I kept the tap running so they'd think I was preoccupied in the bathroom and crept up to his room. I pressed my ear against the door and heard my father speak in a deep, low voice. Your mother found out when I dealt with her. Dad, please, stop. Listen to me. I know you didn't do it. He was definitely crying. If you bring it up one more time. I heard muffled noises.

It was unclear what my father was saying. It was my father's voice. Don't open your goddamn mouth. Do you hear me, boy? Do you want me to deal with you, too? I heard a banging noise, and seconds later, my father opened my brother's door. Sarah, honey, your brother's acting OCD again. We'll take him to the psychiatrist tomorrow.

Got to get him back on those meds. He said to me with a light chuckle and a wink. I tried to hide the fear in my eyes. I swallowed and nodded my head mechanically. My father kissed me on the forehead and said good night. I've been up all night freaking the fuck out. I needed to tell someone. In a world of online content and digital media,

sites like Netflix and Hulu make us forget about those small local TV stations that can be picked up by a TV antenna. As author Sean Elwood writes, When one man discovers that a local station is quite popular with the people in his apartment building, he starts watching it himself. It's a decision that will soon have very unsettling results. So pick up the remote and turn on the TV for it's time to watch Channel 6. So a week ago, I come home from a long day.

day of work and just want to get inside my apartment, kick off my shoes, strip to my boxers, and eat and sleep. I live on the eighth floor out of 14, but that's not really important. My neighbor from across the hallway was just leaving her apartment as I approached my door. I've seen her plenty of times, but we've barely talked and have said nothing more than hi to one another when we passed. We've pass each other. But when she saw me, she smiled and said, Hey, how's it going? I gave a short response, not expecting an actual conversation, and also just wanting to get inside and be left alone. But instead, she walked up to me and introduced herself. Let's call her, I don't know, Hannah. I gave her my name and proceeded

to unlock my door, which is my universal sign of leave me alone. But she persisted on having a conversation with me. It wasn't even a getting-to-know-me conversation, but more like a survey. Do you watch TV? No, I don't. I'm not one of those snobs who think I'm better off without TV. I just don't. There's nothing on cable.

interests me I have Netflix and Hulu and the news is the internet do you have a TV yes have you been watching the local station lately channel 6 I've seen programming on channel 6 before it's nothing more than just poor quality talk shows that probably nobody watches except old people or those who want something playing in the background while they do something else. Nothing special. No, I said.

Why? You should just watch it. They've been broadcasting this new show all day, and I am hooked. She didn't say anything else. Instead, she just stared at me with wide green eyes and a smile that very slowly stretched across her face. I waited for her to say something else, but she just stood there, literally six inches away from my face. That's when I noticed how close she was to me. She actually managed to get right in my face without me even noticing.

What is it? Just watch it. She didn't even blink, and the smile remained the same. My door was unlocked, so I stepped inside to allow some space between us. In an almost sarcastic tone, I said, Yeah, okay, nice meeting you. And then I shut the door. I felt uneasy, nauseous.

A quick chill went down my spine, and I had the urge to look through the people. Yep, she was still standing there, looking at the door with those wide green eyes and the big toothy smile. Actually, she was looking through the door. She was looking at me. Her eyes stared straight through the people into mine. And very slowly, she turned and walked away. I did my usual routine of kicking off my shoes, stripping down to my skivies, and grabbing last night's leftovers as I sat on the couch and turned on the TV to get to Netflix. Curiosity got the best of me, though. I decided to check out Channel 6 real quick before going about my routine.

Static. That's it. Static. for a good minute or two. The station must have gotten knocked out or disconnected. Yeah, thanks, Hannah. This is really interesting. That night, as I was getting ready for bed,

all was quiet in my apartment when I suddenly heard a loud bang. It rumbled through my apartment, and my glass of water that I had by my bed even vibrated, vibrated, like in Jurassic Park. Whatever caused the noise shook the whole building, but afterward it was completely silent. I looked out my window to see if maybe it was a small explosion or a crash or something, but the night was still, and the city was asleep.

The next day as I was leaving for work, I once again ran into Hannah on my way out. She opened her door just as I opened mine, and her face lit up when she saw me. She had that smile and those wide eyes again. Did you watch it? Yeah, but I got nothing but static. I think the station was down. No, that's the program. She said excitedly.

Wasn't it great? I can't wait. to watch it again tonight at this point i was severely confused and also running late for work i got to go i said as i walked down the hallway she followed behind me are you going to watch it tonight i snuck a look behind me and saw that she was following extremely close behind me i quickened my pace and she fell behind a bit, but continued to follow. Probably not. I said, sneaking a peek over my shoulder every so often.

I reached the elevator and called for it. She stood next to me and never took her eyes off of me. I'm not normally one for confrontation, but she was beginning to bother me rather badly. I was about to say something when the doors over. I walked inside and pressed the lobby button. As I turned to face the doors, I noticed that Hannah never got inside the elevator. She stood there staring at me as the doors closed. That evening, I didn't see Hannah when I got home from work.

Thank God. This was why I don't become friends with my neighbors, or anybody in the apartment. apartment buildings I've lived in. You never know what kind of weirdos you'd be living next to, and I honestly felt safer living around strangers than freaks that I personally knew. I brought up Netflix and prepared to watch another movie, but the Channel 6 station buzzed in my mind, and I felt compelled to change it to that channel,

and see if they were actually broadcasting something instead of just static, like Hannah told me. I turned to the channel and was brought to a bright screen of static and the loud hissing noise that accompanied it. I stared at the screen for no longer than a minute or two, just like last time.

I was waiting for something to start playing, but it was just the same scattered noise. I grabbed my remote to change it back to Netflix when I thought I saw something flash across the screen, but I dismissed it almost immediately. It's TV static. If you look at it long enough, you'll see something. I was just finishing watching Netflix when I heard the same loud bang again. I stared up above me, thinking it was my upstairs neighbor, and I actually sat out loud,

what the fuck? But was quickly cut off by yet another, bang, which again seemed like it shook the entire building. Not knowing what to do, I walked into my kitchen living room area and looked around like a confused animal. The chandelier above my kitchen table rocked side to side slightly. I heard doors outside my apartment shut quietly, and I heard my upstairs neighbor slowly walk from their door, across the apartment, and into their living room. After that, it was completely silent. The next day was my day off. I called up the apartment leasing office and told them about the past two nights with the loud banging noises. They seemed just as confused as I was, but I told them there

was really no other way I could explain it. They told me that if it continued happening, to record it on video and show it to them. But other than that, there was really nothing they could do. That made me wonder if it happened at a certain time of night and decided to see if it would happen again that night. After the phone call, I went throughout my day of doing nothing like I always do on my days off. I tried reading a book, but was distracted by a slight buzzing in my head

that just wouldn't leave no matter how hard I tried to make it go away. The buzzing sounded a bit similar to TV static and made me think of Channel 6. The moment I thought of it, the buzzing faded away, and I felt the urge to turn on the TV to Channel 6. Static. Nothing had changed since the first two times I tried watching it. This time I actually put in more time and effort of watching it. I had nothing better to do, but this time I was genuinely curious about why exactly there was nothing but static.

Like I had mentioned earlier, if you stare at TV static long enough, you'll start seeing things. It's all a part of the mind. I think it's called like a Paredoli. or something. Basically, it's when you see faces or images in abstract imagery. Anyway, that's what started happening.

I could feel myself getting nauseous again, and my vision started to blur a bit. I wanted to look away from the TV screen, but I couldn't. That's when I started seeing the flashes. They looked like no. I couldn't really make them out since they flashed so quickly. The hissing noise started to get to me, so I muted the TV, but I could still hear a faint buzzing. I thought it was feedback in my hearing, but it sounded distant, like it was coming from something else,

somewhere else. I shut off the TV and sat on my couch. I must have dozed off because when I woke up, it was dark out. I looked at my kitchen clock. 11.59 p.m. I sat up and noticed that my TV was on, playing the same static. I didn't even remember turning my TV back on, but the hiss of the static started giving me a headache. I turned the TV off, and at that exact moment,

I heard it again. Bang! My heart jumped out of my chest, and I looked at the clock. It was midnight. Bang! I stood up. My walls rumbled. The pictures that hung from them shook.

I ran to my window to see if I could see anything outside that could possibly be making the noise. But it was too dark, and there wasn't much movement outside. Bang! There was that third one. On the third night that I'd been hearing those noises when they started, it clicked almost immediately. I ran over to the door to go out in the hall and see if anyone else heard it. I was sure they did, but when I reached the door, I stopped and listened. Doors shut quietly on the other side of mine. I looked through the people at Hannah's door. I saw just a glimpse of her as she slipped into her dark apartment, and her door was the last to click

shut. I woke up extra early the next morning, quickly got dressed for work and hastily left my apartment and knocked on Hannah's door. She opened it, dressed and ready for the day. Her green eyes still wide, her smile still big. Did you hear that banging last night? She didn't even flinch at what I considered my strange question. Yes. Well, what was it? Do you know? Yes. I waited for her to say more, but she didn't. She just stared and smiled. Well, what was it?

Have you watched Channel 6 yet? Her question caught me off guard a bit, and I stuttered as I tried to repeat my question. She just stared at me. Those wide green eyes and toothy smile. I grew nauseous once again. My headache started to return. I turned and left for work. The entire day I felt sick and my headache never went away,

no matter what I did to appease it at all. I decided to leave work early and go home and rest. On my way home, I thought I saw static playing on the day. TVs at the coffee shop down the street from me. I tried to take a nap, but the persistent buzzing in my head kept me awake. I managed to get to sleep, and when I woke up, it was dark out. I looked at the clock. 1159.

I grabbed my cell phone and turned on the video camera, pressed record, and waited. Midnight struck four times and the building shook harder than the last three nights. The next day I called in sick for work and emailed the video to the leasing office. From that day on, I still haven't heard back from them. I've been trying to call, but I continue to get a busy signal. Ah, the nights grew worse. I started to lose sleep, and come the fifth night, came five more bangs. I noticed myself watching Channel 6 a lot more, and I started seeing more images flash across the static.

Numbers! They seemed like some kind of countdown! The first time I noticed the numbers, they were at the number six. I haven't seen anything else flash across the screen except those numbers. Last night, night six, while watching the static, I saw that the number was down to one. I unplugged my TV. The hiss and noise from Channel 6's static made my head feel like it was splitting open. I ran to the toilet and dry heaved and the air.

until I almost passed out. The bathroom started to spin, and my vision slowly started to blur. The buzzin faded into my head until it was the only thing I could hear. I shouted for help, but I couldn't even hear myself scream. I crawled out of the bathroom and saw that my TV was on even though I unplugged it. Channel 6 was broadcasting it static. The buzzing grew louder, but this time it felt like it was coming from everywhere. I grabbed my phone to call the police, but I only heard TV static on the other line.

I looked at the time on my phone, 1158. I managed to gather enough strength to pull myself up to my own. feet. I could feel my stomach twist and turn and my mouth watered with saliva as the urge to vomit peaked. My head felt like it was getting pulled apart. I stumbled to my front door as if I was drunk and unlocked it. I threw myself into the hallway and collapsed to the floor. Oh, I for sure thought I was going to die. When every door in the hallway opened simultaneously, everybody in each apartment stepped outside into the hallway.

Men, women, children, elderly people, everyone. Even Hannah stepped out of her apartment at the same moment as everyone else. They all had a large grin on their face. Their eyes wide as if they were surprised or excited. Slowly, they all turned and shut their doors. They stared at their doors quietly, standing as still as statues. I tried calling for Hannah to help me, but the buzzing sound muted my voice. I was convinced that even she couldn't hear.

me. I attempted to call the police again, but was too delirious to even unlock my phone. I looked at the time. 1159 switched to 12 midnight. The buzzing in my head, or wherever it was coming from, immediately disappeared without a trace. I looked up. Everybody, I the same time smashing their heads against the doors the walls harder and harder and harder and harder and that made six I stared in disbelief at what I just saw what the fuck is happening I screamed slowly everybody turned and turned and stared at me, stared at me with those wide, excited eyes, stared at me with those grins that stretched past their mouths. Their teeth seemed to have grown in size. Everyone looked almost cartoonish. Some people even had blood trickling from their foreheads, and they just stared.

Like cattle in a factory, they all turned simultaneously to face their doors again. Open them and walked inside their apartments. The hallway echoed with the clicks of the doors closing, and I was left in silence, sitting in my own piss that I involuntarily released out of fear and confusion. I didn't sleep last night. I couldn't. All I could think about was what I had seen in the hallway. All I could think about was Channel 6. All I could think about was that fucking static. I even put my ear up against each of my neighboring walls, and from each wall I could hear static on the other side. Or at least I think I could. It's now today, I mean, the seventh day. I wasn't prepared for what the seventh day would bring me.

I wanted to get out of my apartment building. I'm in no shape to go into work, so I decided to go for a walk and clear my thoughts or attempt to. As I opened my door, it was if I pushed a button to open, everyone else's door. Everyone, including myself, stepped out of their apartment at the same time. We all shut our doors at the same time. Everyone stood in front of their door and stared across the hallway, stared off into the distance past the hallway. Big smiles, big eyes. I stood there for what like hours watching everyone. I slipped in my earbuds to listen to music, but when I

pressed play, I heard nothing but static and ripped my earbuds out of my ears. I mustered up the courage to walk down the hallway toward the elevator. I took a quick peek behind me. Every single person in the hallway followed. at the front of the line. I could feel her breathing down my neck. That's how close she was behind me. I picked up my pace and so did they. My heart was racing and I nearly tripped over myself

as I turned the corner to the elevator. I pressed the down button and the doors opened immediately and I stepped inside and turned around. Everyone crowded in front of the elevator, but nobody got inside. Somehow I managed to find words to speak. Are you going down? We're going up. Someone said.

To the top floor? Higher! Hannah said with her big, proud grin. The doors closed. I walked through the apartment building lobby, out of the apartment building doors, and didn't manage to get more than 30 feet from the building when I heard a woman nearby exclaim. I looked at her, then looked at where she was looking. Up the top of the building.

Hundreds of people on the roof standing at the edge. They were all holding hands, and in one swift movement, they walked over the edge. They didn't jump. They just fell. It was a graceful scene as they all fell without care. Nobody flailed or thrashed in fear or at an attempt to grab onto something. It was as if they were waiting to be caught in the hands of God like a net. It was over. Hundreds of lives gone in an instant.

Men, women. Oh, children, people of all ages hitting the ground in unison. Their bones sounded like the crack of a baseball bat as it hits the ball. the ball louder than I've ever heard before. The woman screamed. I can't even remember if I reacted, but I was in definite shock. I ran to the body surrounding the building, but I knew they were all dead. Nobody could survive a 14-story fall.

The first body I saw was, Hannah's. Her green eyes were still wide in excitement. Her smile still bigger than ever. I'm in my apartment. Everyone in my building is dead and there are men in suits outside my door. The headache is worse than ever and I've already vomited six times today. I have I have Channel 6 playing in the background, despite the hiss of the static, and I have blood trickling down my face from when I banged my head against my bathroom mirror. Banging my head against something seems to help the headaches and nausea go away. I hit my head against the mirror enough to crack it, and there were multiple reflections. of me.

Me and my wide eyes and big smile. For episode has come to an end. Thank you for spending time with us at the No Sleep Podcast. If you would like to learn how you can hear the full-length version of this episode, featuring many more stories, please visit the Noseleeppodcast.com and click on the season pass link. Purchasing a season pass will help support everyone who contributes to the podcast, and in return, you'll get 25 full-length episodes and three exclusive bonus episodes, all for only 1999. This is David Cummings. Thank you for listening, and join us again for the next episode of the No Sleep Podcast.