The NoSleep Podcast - NoSleep Podcast S5E06

Episode Date: March 22, 2015

It's episode 6 of Season 5. We have six tales this week featuring stories about nasty noises, ghostly gals, carnivorous creatures. The full episode features the following stories. The free version features only the first three tales.  Trigger Warnings "The Beeping Sound" written by Vincent Pisani and read by Alexis Bristowe & David Cummings. (Story starts at 00:04:00) "The Splash" written by M.N. Malone and read by David Cummings. (Story starts at 00:23:10) "The Initiation of Ryan Cadle" written by Doug Hantke and read by Peter Lewis and Elie Hirschman & Jessica McEvoy & David Cummings. (Story starts at 00:36:40) "Now & Forever" written by Harlan Guthrie and read by Rock Manor & Nikolle Doolin & David Cummings. (Story starts at 00:59:40) "Sleep Tight" written by Anton Scheller and read by Jessica McEvoy & David Cummings. (Story starts at 01:16:35) "I Used to Work Night Security At A Zoo" written by the team of: Rafael Marmol, Catriona Richards, StandardPractice, the itch, and Ivy Hamilton, and read by Mike DelGaudio & Jessica McEvoy & David Cummings. (Story starts at 01:33:20) Click here to learn more about Vincent Pisani Click here to learn more about Doug Hantke Click here to learn more about Harlan Guthrie Click here to learn more about Anton Scheller Click here to learn more about Rafael Marmol Click here to learn more about the itch Click here to email Alexis Bristowe Click here to learn more about Nikolle Doolin Click here to learn more about Mike DelGaudio Click here to learn more about Elie Hirschman Click here to learn more about Rock Manor Podcast produced by: David Cummings Music & Sound Design by: Brandon Boone & David Cummings "The Splash" illustration courtesy of Lukasz Godlewski This podcast is licensed under a Creative Commons License 2015. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Warning. This is a horror fiction podcast. Beware. It's intended for mature adults, not the faint of heart. Aware. Join us at your own risk. But close your eyes, tales of horror to frighten and disturb as the sleepless hours take past. Brace yourself for the No Sleep Podcast.

Season 5. Welcome to the No Sleep Podcast. I'm your host, David Cummings. We have Six Tales this week, featuring stories about nasty noises, ghostly gals, and carnivorous creatures. It's good to be back with you after our unexpected week off. Thanks for your understanding and words of support sent my way. Life certainly is hectic these days, but I'm glad to be bringing you spooky stories once again. I'm happy to welcome a new narrator joining us this week. Ellie Hirschman is a very talented voice actor who, even at his young age, is a veteran of many different audio drama projects. His wide range of voices will certainly be a welcome addition to the team.

So welcome, Ellie, and thank you. Thanks for joining us. I also want to mention some of our authors this week. Our final story, entitled I Used to Work Night Security at a Zoo, comes to us from a team of authors. You see, in Reddit's horror writing community, a fun competition takes place regularly throughout the year. Various authors sign up and are grouped into teams of around a half-dozen writers. They collaborate together to craft a tale and the final results are voted on.

The latest winning entry comes to us from a team featuring some writers who have appeared on the show in the past. The team of Rafael Marmoul, Katrina Richards, Ivy Hamilton, The Itch, and Standard Practice crafted this great tale, so we appreciate their collaborative excellence. Also, one of our new authors this week will be releasing his latest novel this Tuesday, March 24th. Doug Hanke's novel, No Motive for Murder, he is definitely worth checking out, and his timing couldn't be better. As with all of our authors and narrators, please check the show notes for lots of information about their projects and roles outside of the podcast. And so our show is back, our contributors are ready to go, so let's start the show. In our first tale, we encounter the nightmare, well, okay, let's say the maddening frustration of a certain aspect of modern technology. Electronic noises.

In this tale from author Vincent Pisani, we meet a woman who is plagued by a noise which won't let her rest. A series of beeps torment her wherever she goes. It's only when she discovers the source of the noise that her nightmare truly begins. Narrator Alexis Bristow reads the tale for us, so please do your best not to be bothered by the beeping sound. I woke up in my bed and felt like I had just awoken in a swimming pool. My body was covered in sweat. my heart was beating at a fast pace.

I must have had another night terror, but damn if I ever remembered them. I noticed the strange beeping sound now, and I began to look around my bedroom, confused. What the hell was that sound? And then echoed through my apartment again. It was a high-pitched and very annoying sound. It had a constant rhythm, sounding about every five seconds or so. But where was it coming from? I jumped out of bed and approached the bedroom door.

I opened the door and it creaked, and I poked my head into the hallway. The beep sounded again, and I noticed the tone and pitch hadn't changed it all. It must have been in my room after all. It would have been very subtle with my door closed and had it come from the hallway. I closed the door and stared back into my room. The clock on my wall was ticking silently, the shorthand halfway between the three and the four, and the long hand just past the seven.

It was already 3.30 in the morning. I didn't have time for this shit. That sound was too obnoxious for me to leave it alone. I spent about 15 minutes searching my room, unplugging everything, and practically tearing down my walls to find the source of the beeping. That damned beeping noise hadn't ceased yet, and I was determined to get some good sleep. I had gone out drinking the night before,

and my head was beating with pain. Every time the beep sounded, it felt like a rock was bouncing off the walls of my skull. Where the fuck is that coming from? I asked myself. I was convinced the sound couldn't be coming from my room. It had to be coming from the hallway or something. Maybe the smoke detector battery was dying? Yeah, that's it.

The damn smoke detector must have needed a new battery. It just occurred to me that I hadn't changed the battery in over six months. and now was a good time as ever to do so. I paraded into the hallway in relief, and I looked up at the round smoke detector on the ceiling. I reached up and stood on the tips of my toes, and I opened the smoke detector. I could see the black battery sitting in its place,

and I pulled the little bastard out. I walked back into my room in victory, and I tossed the old battery into my garbage can. I hopped back into bed and close my eyes tightly, eager to get back to sleep. It had been a solid 30 seconds now and no beeping sound. Finally, I could get some... I shot up for my resting position immediately as I felt my head surge with pain.

What the fuck was that? The beeping noise was louder than it had been before, and it was making my headache much worse. God damn it, I thought. I guess the stupid thing doesn't stop beeping when you take the battery out. I crawled out of bed with bitter rage pinned against the alarm system, and I walked back out into the hallway. Upon looking at the smoke detector again, I noticed there was no dim red light coming from it like there had once been. The alarm beeped again, and I assumed it must have been a battery sensor.

This meant I was going to have to go out and buy a battery at 4 in the morning. The beeping noise returned again, and my head boiled from the high-pitched screech. I couldn't handle this bullshit anymore. I needed to go buy this damn battery and then go the fuck to sleep. I got some pants and a jacket on and grabbed my phone and car keys, and I proceeded to my apartment's parking lot. I walked outside and locked the door behind me, and I turned around to look at the parking lot.

I cocked one of my eyebrows when I saw that my reserved parking spot was empty, and all the spots behind it were taken by my neighbor's cars. What the fuck? It was still there. And it was just as loud as it had ever been in my house. What the fuck was going on? Was I still dreaming? No, it was impossible.

This felt far too real to be a dream. Fuck this. I began searching the parking lot desperately for my car, but it was nowhere to be found. Did I get fucking robbed? This was just fan-fucking tastic. I had a beating headache. This eternal beeping noise was pissing me off, and some motherfuckers stole my car.

This night just couldn't get any worse. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and began to walk as far away from the apartment as I could. Was the sound really that loud? How were my neighbors sleeping through it? I looked down at the touchscreen and dialed 911, and I pressed the phone to my ear. The phone beeped in my ear, and my head recoiled away from it. There was no signal on my phone for some reason, and I assumed the lines must have been down. Just one more inconvenience to my night.

And before even two minutes passed, my night had gotten even worse. I really wanted to scream. I was halfway down the street from my apartment. How was the sound still reaching me from that far away? And how the fuck was it still that loud? I must have been hallucinating it. That was the only explanation now. I got wasted last night, and I still felt a little tipsy.

I was tired and annoyed at 4 in the morning. I had to be hallucinating the sound now. I continued walking down the street, and I tried my hardest to ignore the sound in my head. However, despite my best attempt, there was no way I could drown it out. It was in my head for sure, and I couldn't make it go away. My only hope now was to try and go home and sleep. But first, I was going to go to my neighbor's apartment and ask them to call the police. Upon my arrival, I rang the doorbell of my neighbor's house and awaited an answer.

I stood there for about two minutes without an answer, so I rang the doorbell again. Another couple of minutes passed, and there was still no answer. Fuck this. I'll walk to the goddamn police station. it's only a mile or so from here. I stormed off and began making my way to the police station, and the beeping continued its endless annoyance. Then a new idea came to my head.

I could hitch a ride from a passing car, perhaps, and they could take me to the police station. So I made my way to St. Vincent Road and stood on the side to wait for cars. I had to be careful standing on the side of this road. The speed limit was 55 miles per hour, and knowing the drivers in my home, town, any out driving at this hour was probably going 65 or more. Lest I forget my town is also notorious for drunk drivers after midnight, but it was getting

close to 4.30. I seriously doubted any of the two people I described were really out in abundance anymore. This was about the time people with really early shifts began heading to work, so the better people in the city were out and about now. If I had a gun, it would be very hard to refrain from killing myself right now. I angrily joked with myself. I continued waiting, and finally I saw the headlights of a car coming from the lane I was standing beside.

I began to wave my arms drastically and hoped this person would stop. Perhaps they would see that I'm in the midst of an emergency and they would stop and pick me up. I really just wanted to sleep and get this goddamn beeping out of my head forever. Despite my effort, the car spread right. right past me, and I felt the wind lash out at me as it passed.

And just when I thought there were some good Samaritans in the city, once again, the universe had proved me wrong, and that time the beep sounded even louder than before. Maybe it was a car horn. I guess this is what I deserve for going out and drinking again. Well, fuck you two. I turned and watched as the car that sped past me went up the hilly road. As it made its way uphill, I noticed the headlights of an hour. another car, and I felt a spark of hope. Then, less than a second later, I felt my heart sink,

and it skipped to beat. The car was oncoming in the wrong lane. Oh, shit! There was nothing I could have done. I was just a helpless spectator for this horrific moment, and I was being forced to watch it like some sort of torture. And sure enough, the two cars collided head on. The car that passed me attempted to swerve out of the way, but the attempt was futile. My whole body shuddered as I heard the sound of metal hitting metal and the sound of glass shattering. I had to do something. I went into the street despite the danger, and I sprinted towards the crash site. The beeping had gotten louder now, maybe due to the sleep I was losing tonight. I didn't care about the beeping anymore. There were at least two people who needed my help, and I could potentially save their

lives. I reached the wreck, and I felt my head and heart pounding like drums. I noticed an intense physical pain was beginning to consume my body, and it hurt like hell. What the actual fuck was happening to me? I looked at the crash on the dark road, and I tried hard to see through the lack of light. From what I could see, the accident was horrendous. The two cars had practically become one with each other, and I feared both drivers were dead. I really hope they didn't have any passengers. I approached the car that had passed me, and I looked inside of what was left to the front door. I searched for a driver and passengers, but there weren't any.

Then I saw the windshield was shattered, and I felt my stomach shroom. I turned my head slowly with horror, and my heart was racing like crazy. The beeping side had become much louder than before, and it was loud as a gunshot. My body was screaming with pain, and I felt myself become weak. My head finally finished its turn, and tears began to form in my eyes. Sitting on the broken windshield of the incoming car was the headless body of a young woman. Her body was sliced up and bloody, and it was covered with glass.

My own body was being overcome with nothing but pain, and I dropped to my knees. What the hell was happening to me? I dropped on to my stomach, and my face hit the concrete road. I felt chills running through my whole body as I looked right into the eyes of a head with no body. And I flipped over and screamed. I had never seen a look of horror so terrible before. But if I had been looking in a mirror, mine probably would have been worse. Despite my pain, I reached up to pull myself back to my feet.

As I planted my hand and pushed down, I accidentally impaled my hand on broken glass. I groan loudly as pain spiked through my body. I removed my hand from the glass and cringed as the feeling of broken glass left it. My brain practically fried itself every time the beeping sound echoed in my head. I carefully used the car to move myself around to the other side, and I limped my way to the passenger's side of the car. I stopped myself at the hood and drooped over it. Then I got a good look at the other car.

No. It was my car, the one that had been stolen. I lifted myself off the hood and stumbled my way to the driver's seat of my car. It was still far too dark to see very much, but I could tell someone was still in the driver's seat. I quickly noticed the windows on all four doors were shattered, and there were more people in my car. My heart burned with shock when I saw the face of another passenger.

His face was cut up and bloody, and he was most definitely dead. The man was one of my friends. I turned away in denial, and then I saw my own face in the car's mirror. My face was cut up in Bruce, too, and the cuts of my face matched the pains I was feeling all over. I turned my head one more time, and I saw something I would. never forget. I felt nothing anymore. The pain in my body was gone, and the beeping had returned to its normal volume. Nonetheless, no amount of pain could compare to what I was feeling right now. There in the driver's seat, it was me. I was staring at myself with the same injuries I had just

seen in the mirror. My heart literally stopped at that moment, and I fell onto my heart. back on the shoulder of the road. I felt nothing anymore, even though my heart had stopped beating. I looked beside myself and saw another one of my close friends lying dead in the grass, and he was staring at me blankly. He was only a lifeless shell now. The sound of the beeping became muffled now, and I felt strangely comfortable. I looked back at the driver's seat, and the other me wasn't there anymore.

She was gone. She was me. Then my eyes forced themselves shut, and I felt no. What had I done? My eyes opened, and I returned to consciousness again. My senses had returned to me, and thankfully so had my heartbeat. My eyes squinted as light shot into them, and I saw that it was daytime at last. Only now I wasn't sitting on the side of the road.

I looked around the environment which surrounded me, and I realized I was in a hospital bed. I noticed there was a tube in my nose to help me breathe, and there was an IV in my right arm. My body was covered by a warm, white blanket, and underneath was my beaten and bandaged body. Beside me was a heartbeat monitor. It had been the source of the beeping sound. I had only been dreaming everything that happened, and the beeping had interfered with the dream. Maybe everything was going to be okay after all. I saw there was a doctor in the room with me. He was wearing a pair of blue scrubs,

and he sat patiently in a chair at the bedside. The man seemed incredibly uncomfortable and nervous. Beside him, two doctors were chatting silently in the doorway, and they could barely keep their eyes off of me. Welcome back. The doctor said. Ma'am, do you know your name? I questioned why he would ask such a strange question to me.

I raised my eyebrows at him. However, to my surprise, my name didn't strike me at all. My mind had gone blank. What the hell it happened? I said weakly. Your name is Joan Wilder. You've been in a comatose state for 16 days, Ms. Wilder. The police are on their way, Jeff.

One of the other doctors said as they walked in, Police? Why are the police coming? Joan, there's a warrant out for your arrest. The police are coming to tell you what happened. My arrest? There must have been some sort of mistake. I couldn't believe the words I was hearing right now.

This means the dream that I had must have been a real thing. and it was a recalling of what I had done. But at the same time, I couldn't remember anything before the time I went comatose. What the fuck had I done? What did I do? I asked reluctantly. You're wanted for one count of driving under the influence and five counts of manslaughter. When a father and son head out on the lake to do some fishing, it's not

quite the idyllic day they had hoped for. It's raining and gray and the experience is somewhat melancholy. But as we learn from author M. N. Malone, things get even more unsettling when they discover they are not alone on the lake. What they find out there will haunt their memories for a long time, and it all started when they heard the splash. The gray sun had lifted the dark skirt of nighttime rain clouds, peaking over the edge of the lake. The day promised rain, but far less compared to the day before, and it was our last day at the cottage. I had promised my son a fishing trip, sort of a farewell before my wife and I sent him off to college. Instead, we'd spent the weekend trying to salvage our plans around a low-burning hearth in the Wisconsin wilderness.

Our Friday night hike had been cut short, and Saturday was spent drinking beer and playing board games in the futile belief that the rain would let up. He seemed in good spirits, but I wanted to make the trip memorable for him. I wanted him to know that I'd miss him. Our fishing supplies were in the boat now, a five-foot steel canoe with a tiny little motor on the back. The rods were propped on the tackle box, snaking out over the edge. and casting dark lines on the swelling water.

Riveulets of rain were sluicing down the edge of the boat and joining the echoes of tiny raindrops. My son brushed his hair out of his face, put the hood of his raincoat back up, and smiled at me. Any chance will catch something good? I rubbed my chin. Fishing's supposed to be good this time of year. With the rain, I don't know, but I hope so.

Let's get something big. His smile grew wider. He lifted his leg up and clambered into the metal body. His boots thunking against its belly and smearing mud across its face. After a moment of wondering if it might be better to wait a while longer, I climbed in after him and took my seat at the stern, and fired up the engine. It sputtered, and the whirr was drowned as it dipped into the dark water.

The dock faded away at our backs. We went until the coast was just a dark stain on the 5 o'clock horizon. The waves heaved our canoe up and down, welling up on either side before pushing past us. I pulled the motor out of the water and killed it. absent-mindedly checking the clasps on my life-vest afterward. Lake Superior was too deep to drop an anchor. We'd have to just watch the turn of the boat. My son had been talking the whole time.

He was excited for college, excited to be attending UW Madison, a place so different from where he'd grown up. His hands were fumbling with the little green tackles. box and I seized my pole to bait it. Just as he reached his hand for the night crawlers, that's when we heard the splash. Is everything okay, Dad? I think something fell overboard. Must have knocked it off with my ass.

Want to check it out? I was still pushing the hook through the worm's gut, my hand slithering off its ribbed tail as I attempted to pinch and spear that too. My son set his pole down and the boat rocked as he scooted to the outer edge of his seat. It was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was hollow. Dad? Yes? Dad, there's a lady in the water.

It took my mind a minute to register what he'd said. We were two miles from shore. maybe more. There were cottages, sure, but no one swam far out in Lake Superior. It was a freshwater sea, wide and cold and with its own strong grasping undercurrent. It dropped off ten feet from the shoreline to God only knew how deep. There were rumors that ancient vessels still lay at the lake's belly, frozen in ice that never melted. I dropped my rod and jumped to my feet. The boat swayed hard and I grabbed the same edge as my son to steady myself.

That's when I saw her, bare naked, pale breasts, eyes closed. As the waves lapped at the edges of our boat, they cut around her just floating there. We yelled, but there was not. but there was no response, not a twitch here nor a tremor there. She looked as if she were simply asleep, her back kissing the cool water below, the rain dappling her stomach and her chest and her thighs from above. Her hair was fanned out around her head, soaking wet and snaking on the undulation of the lake. The weirdest part, though, was that she was clean.

Every inch of her was unmarred. There were no cuts or bruises, no bulges or gashes or wounds. She was snow-white in a glass coffin cast out to sea. The boat was thrown off balance again. I realized I had been staring for too long. My son had grabbed a paddle and was yelling for her to grab it. He held it by the thin edge and pointed it out across the dark expanse of the water, but it wouldn't reach.

Our boat had drifted too far from her. I dug under the seat for the ring buoy and threw it over. It landed with a splash, too short to reach her. My son turned toward me, his face screwed up, His voice drowned by the din of the storm winds. We need to get her, Dad. We need to save her. The lady in the water drifted away soundlessly in response. For a moment, there was a look in my son's eyes as if he might leap overboard.

I grabbed his shoulder to stop him. There was no doubt in my mind now that she was dead, or in the very least unconscious. What had been meant to be a simple fishing trip had instead turned out to be a harrowing event. The discovery of a body, or a soon-to-be body if we didn't act quickly. And still, I couldn't bring myself

to reach for the paddles or to try the buoy again. Each moment I sat frozen, the body drifted far away, away in the frigid waters, bobbing with the scoop of the waves. I turned again and began to reach for a paddle, but my eyes scanned the horizon for some glimmer of hope. That's when I saw the approaching boat. I changed trajectory and grabbed the emergency kit beneath my seat. The pat was soaked, but inside, a plastic container had saved.

the handful of flares. I tore it open and ripped the top off of one, the red light blooming to life. I held it up and began to yell. My son began to yell too. The other vessel sped up, and I knew by the spotlights that some manner of fortune had smiled upon us. Great and white, a high-powered motor chopping at the waves below, a coast guard rose ever closer in view. As he approached, he heralded, and he boomed his question of our distress through some massive speaker tucked between the flashing lights at the boat's head.

There's a body! I yelled back, still waving my arms. My bones were stiff. with the chill and ached as they slid past one another. Over there, a woman, a body. His boat scooped around hours and the engine cut. I saw as the spotlights angled into the early morning waters, shearing through the darkness in shafts.

They swooned over the waters again and again, reaching farther each time. but they fell on nothing but chopping waves and murky depths. No woman, no body, no source of the splash, just empty water and more empty water until the horizon crouched to touch the lake. My son's eyes were wide when we were ordered to board the other boat. His hands were shaking as the Coast Guard radioed back up. The interrogations took hours.

Flares were thrown, divers were called, but not a single shred of evidence was found that pointed toward a drowned woman where we'd been. In the end, the coast guards assumed that if there had been a body, we'd seen it as the last of the gases from within escaped, and it had sunk afterward, like a stone to the bottom of the water. of the lake where nothing short of a pilotless mini-sub could reach. We were told to leave and under no circumstances to return to that site. We left without a word. Since my son's departure for college, I have told this story a thousand times, and not a single fact has been changed. But there is still one thing.

that keeps me awake at night. The same thing that forced me to sell the cottage shortly after the events I just described. The thought that maybe, just maybe, we weren't the only thing fishing out there, and that the splash and the woman were no more than bait for a bigger, hungrier thing. When a new kid arrives at high school, he can expect to get a certain kind of treatment until the locals get to know him.

In this tale from author Doug Hankey, we meet a young man who wants to be left alone, but is chosen to participate in a traditional initiation ceremony to welcome him to his new school. Narrators Peter Lewis, Ellie Hirschman, and Jessica McAvoy perform the tale for us. As we come to discover there is something far less playful and welcoming about the initiation of Ryan Cottle. I never believed in the supernatural. Joey Bologna Baldwin. Yes, they call him Bologna. was the captain of the football team at my new school, Poka High.

He was also in charge of harassing the new students upon arrival. He stood tall and slim with the redneck equivalent of the California surfer look. His wife-beater lay tucked under his favorite camo jacket, and his tight blue jeans completed the package, hated him before he even spoke. Hey, new kid. I kept my face down and my books clutched to my chest. There was nothing I wanted less than a conversation with that meathead.

You deaf, kid? He reached out and grabbed my shoulder. What's your name? Ryan, I mumbled looking at him. Now leave me alone. Hey, I'm just trying to invite you to a little guest. together at my place this weekend. I stared at him and his group of hype men and wondered what kind of joke they were trying to play on me.

You what? It's an initiation type thing, you know? Joey smiled. After that, we leave you alone. I had no desire to be initiated, but I also had no desire in being harassed every day for the remainder of my sense. stay at this god-forsaken school. I considered my options, and with a defeated sigh, I replied, what time his friends erupted into barbaric cheers, fist-bumping and high-fiving each other. I felt like I was a cast member on some shitty MTV reality show.

Friday night, my place. My parents are out of town for the weekend. He grinned. What is this initiation? You'll see. He looked over his shoulder to his friends who were all laughing. Hope you don't scare, easy. I don't scare easy. But the way he and his friends were acting made me doubt my own fear tolerance.

Over the next few days, I asked a few kids if they knew what the initiation was. all about, but no one would say a word. It was apparently something that everyone knew about, though, because on Friday people started wishing me luck. My mind started telling me this was a bad idea, and my heart was trying to leave my chest and flee the scene. I sat on the school bus on my way home thinking of all the things it could be. Nothing had privated at Joey's house around 9 p.m. and knocked on the door. His home was tucked away in a wooded area, much like every other house in this town, under an overcast of hanging trees.

I must admit, it was a nice house. The door opened, and there stood Mr. Joey Bologna, wearing his school-issued, Oka Dot sweatpants. Yeah. The high school mascot is the dots. Stupid. And a plain white t-shirt. He placed his right hand on my shoulder and gripped it tight.

I didn't think you'd show. Well, I did. Hey, the new kid showed up. He screamed into the house. I heard a few hoots and hollers. over the country music that was blaring from the kitchen. I felt like I was in a shitty horror movie, like deliverance meets scream or something.

Want a beer? Sure. I may as well get drunk if I'm going to have to deal with these assholes for the night. Hey, Danny, throw me a natty, bro. Danny was one of the offensive linemen on the football team. He weighed about 300 and not. 40 pounds and was wearing his football jersey with the same poker dot sweatpants.

Joey caught the beer and tossed it to me. I pulled the tab and had to immediately drink the beer that started spewing from the top. Chug, chug! The mob chanted. An hour passed, and I felt the mood shifting. Everyone started whispering to themselves and looking at it. at me, which made me uncomfortable. I was starting to become intoxicated.

Why was everyone staring at me? It's time for initiation, people. Joey entered the room with an empty black sack. My heart started pounding against my chest, and I felt my forehead getting moist. I wiped my hands on my jeans and tried to calm myself. You ready? Joey looked at me.

Yeah. Come with me. The party went into a riot as they chanted. Go, go, go. It wasn't nearly as inviting as the chug chant from earlier. I need to go to the bathroom. I said, before we reached the back door. Number one or number two?

Not the question I had expected, but I didn't hesitate. I think. I'm going to throw up. All right. Initiation will have to wait. The mob booed and started chanting. Parsi! Parsi!

Once again, I liked the chug chant better. Don't do that shit down here, bro. Bathroom's upstairs on the right. I worked my way through the angry mob and jogged up the stairs in search of the bathroom. After a few seconds, I located the door and made my way across the hall. I stopped at the entrance and listened for a moment. I stood completely still and could hear the sound of crying coming from the room next to me. Noticing the door was half open, I glanced into the room.

On the bed, crying, sat a beautiful girl wearing a blue nightgown with white lacing. Her curly brown hair fell to her shoulders, and I could see her tears from the hallway. She looked up at me. Who are you? Go away. Sorry, I said, and turned to the bathroom. No, wait, don't go. She said, sniffling. Sorry, it's been a shitty night.

I saw a picture hanging on the wall next to me. The picture was of Joey, his parents, his older brother, and his sister, who now sat in front of me. Come in. She said, beckoning me. I'm Vanessa. I can't, I said, trying to get the words out of my mouth. I've never been good at talking to girls, especially pretty ones. They're waiting and she laughed.

Are you being initiated? She created quotation marks in the air with her fingers. I stepped into a room. Yeah, what's funny? She motioned to the edge of her bed. Sit down. I wiped my palms on my jeans and inched closer to her bed. I sat down, taking up.

the least amount of space on her bed as physically possible. A cool, coconut-scented breeze swept through the room, causing the hair on my arms to stand up like soldiers in formation. Don't be nervous. She laughed. It's cute, though. I like it. Her olive skin was blemish-free, her stare inviting. Those words were all my heart.

heart needed to explode in my chest. Blood rushed to my groin as I struggled to speak. What's initiation? Some stupid thing Joey and his idiot friends do to the new kids. They take you to the crick out back and make you sit under the stone bridge with that stupid black sack on your head. Then they tell you a dumb story about a girl that drowned behind our house. Then they'll leave you there for 30 minutes while they try to scare you by making noises. They're so fucking stupid. It's initiation. Yep, that's it.

She smiled. Her teeth were that of a Colgate model. What had I been so afraid of, anyway? I don't even believe in ghosts. I was more afraid of them just kicking my ass. That was much scarier than sitting under a stone bridge. Vanessa scooted toward me until our arms were touching. Goose bumps appeared on my arms like bubbles of boiling water.

What's your name? Ryan. Nice to meet you. She smiled. You don't mind me asking. Why were you crying? She took a deep breath and wiped the last of her tears from her drying eyes. My boyfriend broke up with me tonight.

I'm sorry. Fuck him, right? Pretty much. You have a girlfriend, Ryan? She placed her hand on my thigh, and I almost melted. Her emerald eyes burned a hole into my soul. I never have. Never?

She bounced on the bare. and grabbed my shoulder, pushing me in a playful manner. Lies? No, really. I've never had a girlfriend. I could feel the heat in my cheeks. Why was I telling her that? I should have just lied. You're adorable.

She leaned over, putting her face in front of mine, her eyes radiating pure happiness. Kissed me, kissed me. It was my first. first kiss, but it was worth the weight. My body tingled and my heart struggled to decide on a rhythm. I placed my hand behind her head like they do in the movies, and it was over. She pulled away and smiled. Better get going before they see you up here.

Stood up. I turned from the door and waved goodbye. She smiled and blew me a kiss as my insides tumbled around like gymnasts. When I made it back downstairs, everyone cheered. About time, bro. We were starting to think you died up there. I'm okay. Let's go. The mob escorted me outside, and just like Vanessa had told me, I was instructed to sit under the stone bridge. Joey placed the sack over my head, and the sound of the creek filled my ears.

They are going to try to scare you. Girl died in this creek 20 years ago. Her father was an alcoholic. He used to use this bridge for punishment. He would put a sack over her head like the one you're wearing now, and tie her to the metal latch at your feet. My feet out of curiosity and felt a hard object. I bent over and grabbed the object with my hands.

It was sturdy and had an opening large enough for a rope. At least they were trying. One night, if she sat tied up and hooded, it began to rain. It rained hard. Her drunk-ass father passed out in the house and left her there. It was a record for rainfall that night. The creek rose and flooded into the yard. The water wasn't even up to my feet at the moment.

moment. I had to move down to the water on purpose to get wet, but I could imagine how easily it would flood. If I were tied to the latch, my head would be below ground level. The girl fought with the creek, struggling to keep her head above water. She failed. Her father found her dead the next morning, and then hung himself by the tree to your right. I could feel a cool breeze blowing over my neck as I sat in the darkness. A tingling sensation crept down my arms. With the sack over my head, my imagination ran wild. They say sensory deprivation can cause hallucinations, and I believe them. The voices reverberated, making my place under the bridge sound like an empty cathedral hall. Two images appeared in the darkness in front of me. They glided closer and closer.

until they were identifiable. One of the figures was a young girl. Her hair was long and blonde. Her clothes ragged and torn. The other was of a man. His face was unkempt. His hair long and greasy, his clothes dirty. He pulled the sack down over her head as she cried hysterically,

struggling to get free. The man tossed an empty bottle of Jack. Daniels to the ground and spit into the water. I could smell the alcohol on his breath when he spoke to her. Vanessa's warnings weren't enough to stop the fear from entering my mind. The images faded, and I could hear the mob whispering, but their voices seemed distant. The sounds of thunder crashed around me like an angry orchestra. I felt drops of water splash against my skin, sending chills down my spine. The sound of rain pounded off the stone bridge above as I felt the water rising. Scared, I tried to stand, only to realize the rope around my hands. I jerked with

all of my strength, but to no avail. I followed the rope to the creek floor and grabbed the latch. I thrashed in the water trying to free myself from its clutches as the water rose to my waist. The waters from the mob faded. I was left to die in the creek like the girl from the story. As the water rose past my neck, I did my best to angle my head toward the bridge. If I was lucky, it would stop rising just short of my. nose. I strained with every ounce of strength I could muster as the water rose over my mouth, sloshing back and forth to the bottom of my nostrils, to stay calm as I took one last breath

before the water rushed over my nose. I could see the image of the girl struggling once more, and for a moment it felt like we were the same person, feel my lungs giving up as they burned inside my chest. I accepted defeat and cursed Joey and his friends for leaving me outside to die. I closed my eyes and gasped for air.

Heard the sounds of the mob approaching again. Their voices became clearer as I struggled to open my eyes. You all right, bro? A voice I recognized as Joey's said. You were screaming and shit. man. Fucking hilarious. I said as he removed the sack from my head.

I trembled as I tried to regain my sanity. Joey gripped my shoulders with a fatherly squeeze. It's over, man. Welcome to Poka. I walked upstairs to the bathroom and saw that Vanessa's light was still on. I decided to pop in and let her know how wrong she had been, about the initiation, but when I pushed the door open, she wasn't there. I heard the fan in the bathroom running and decided to wait for her to get out. The sound of footsteps came stomping up the stairs. Danny appeared soon after, bent over attempting to catch his breath. Don't run much,

I take it. Funny, what were you doing in there? Joey will kill you for I'm sure he would. My memory of the kiss rushed back to me. No, really, man. His voice seemed serious. Okay, I'll leave his sister alone. I turned back to her room and noticed the lights were off. The room was lit only by the moonlight which left a dark blue tint on everything. Not funny, dude. I looked with wide eyes to the window. Hanging from the ceiling in a blue nightgown with white lace trim was Vanessa.

Her wiry hair fell all over her face. Her skin decomposed and pale. She hung from a rope, and I could see. see the bruises on her neck from the break, turned to Danny my heart pounding in my chest. I must still be under the bridge, still be under the bridge. Vanessa died five years ago, man. Her boyfriend broke up with her, and she ran to her room and hung herself. Joey found her the next morning with a suicide note in her hands.

trembled from the fear of not knowing whether or not I was still under that sack. It said all I ever wanted was to be kissed. Our 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 next week for the next episode of the no sleep podcast