The NoSleep Podcast - NoSleep Podcast S6E07

Episode Date: November 8, 2015

It's episode 7 of Season 6. On this week's show we have five tales about playground peril, sinister snooping, and diabolical debauchery.The full episode features the following stories. The free version features only the first two tales."The Swing" written by Dan David and fully produced, narrated, and scored by Jeff Clement. (Story starts at 00:04:45)"Uncle Gerry’s Family Fun Zone" written by Jimmy Juliano and read by Nikolle Doolin & Mike DelGaudio & David Cummings. (Story starts at 00:34:20)"Don't Lie to Your Kids" written by Andrew Best and read by Erika Sanderson. (Story starts at 01:18:00)"Mr. Sweetly" written by Jack Mason and read by Mike DelGaudio & Erika Sanderson & David Cummings. (Story starts at 01:23:20)"Something Wrong is Happening in Las Vegas" written by Cassandra Souchek and read by Peter Lewis & Jesse Cornett & David Cummings. (Story starts at 01:42:30)Click here and use the promo code NOSLEEP299 for a membership at Chilling Tales for Dark Nights Click here to tour the great Chilling Tales for Dark Nights member area Click here to learn more about Dan David Click here to learn more about Jimmy Juliano Click here to learn more about Jack Mason Click here to learn more about Jeff Clement Click here to learn more about Nikolle Doolin Click here to learn more about Mike DelGaudio Click here to learn more about Erika Sanderson Click here to learn more about Jesse Cornett Click here to learn more about Peter Lewis Podcast produced by: David CummingsMusic & Sound Design by: Brandon Boone & David Cummings."The Swing" courtesy of Chilling Tales for Dark Nights"Uncle Gerry’s Family Fun Zone" illustration courtesy of Jörn HeidrathAudio program ©2015 - Creative Reason Media - All Rights Reserved - No reproduction or use of this content is permitted without the express written consent of Creative Reason Media. The copyrights for each story are held by the respective authors. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

This is a horror fiction podcast. By listening to our stories, you are choosing to be frightened and disturbed for your entertainment. You do so at your own risk. Brace yourself for the No Sleep Podcast. It's the No Sleep Podcast. I'm David Cummings. Thanks for joining us. On this week's show, we have five tales about playground, round peril, sinister snooping, and diabolical debauchery. I hope everyone has recovered from the

celebration of Halloween. Whether you spent time at costume parties, shelling out treats, or lost in a sugar-induced haze, I hope you all had a chance to hear and share our Halloween shows. The entire No Sleep team appreciates all the kind words and positive feedback we received from you. We're glad so many people enjoy the kinds of productions we offer. And speaking of the kinds of audio horror productions we do, I want to make sure all of you, whether you're a long-time listener or a brand-new one, are aware of the work done by our friends over at Chilling Tales for Dark Nights.

Craig Groshek and his team continue to produce outstanding audio horror, and I'm proud that our two teams have a lot of crossover. You are all no doubt aware of our regular narrators Jeff Clement and Jesse Cornett, both executive producers over at Chilling Tales. Both Jeff and Jesse are playing a big part in this week's show, especially as we'll be kicking off this episode with a production from Jeff Clement that he produced for the Chilling Tales Channel. I've mentioned in the past the exciting new Chilling Tales membership program,

where members get instant access to their entire. entire archive of stories, HD downloads of individual stories, advanced releases, behind-the-scenes bonus material, and over 120 hours of content already in the members area. And for no-sleep listeners like yourself, Craig and his team have a limited time offer, which will get you $7 off the cost of a month-to-month chilling tales membership. Originally, $9.99 per month, with this coupon, the price is permanently dropped to only $299 per month. All you need to do is go to Chilling Tales for Darknights.com slash no sleep deal and enter the promo code

no sleep 299 in the coupon code field to redeem your savings. But don't delay, the coupon expires December 15th of this year. To learn more about all the amazing content in their members area, you can take a free tour at Chilling Tales for Dxswainting Darknights.com slash tour for a preview. And for the record, this is not a paid advertisement. No Sleep receives no compensation for this promotional offer. I just believe that the Chilling Tales team does outstanding work,

and if you're a fan of what we do here at No Sleep, I know you'll love the stories crafted by Chilling Tales. I fully support what they do, and now you can too, at a fraction of the regular cost. Check the show notes for all the details and enjoy countless hours of excellent horror audio fiction. And with that, we have some excellent horror audio fiction of our own for you. So let's start the show. In our first tale, we meet a man who has moved into his new place and is excited by the possibilities for lots of social interaction.

But as we learn from author Dan David, the man discovers he lives next to his next to his life. door to an unsettling boy who spends an inordinate amount of time on his backyard playset, and he quickly realizes he needs to find out why. This tale is fully produced and narrated by Jeff Clement and features his score and sound design. So have a seat, put your feet up, and let gravity send you back and forth, because it's always fun to play on the swing. What do people usually fear when moving out to live on their own? What sort of problems does one normally encounter when finally venturing from the safety of their parents' home into a place of their own?

Perhaps it's paying their rent on time, or having to do all the cleaning without any of Mommy's help. These were the things I anticipated. I never could have predicted the events of the past week. We had finally moved the last box into my house. new house. Single-level ranch and only two bedrooms, but for a bachelor like me, it was a dream come true. The house was right in the heart of a great suburban neighborhood with a two-car driveway and a pretty big backyard. When I had seen the yard, the first thing I thought of was all the parties I'd be hosting. I stepped onto the deck and took a breath of fresh air while closing my

eyes to imagine the endless nights of friends, booze, and of course, women. I stretched my arms out and let out an exuberant sigh of relief. As I scanned my surroundings, I couldn't help but notice the elevated deck gave me the proper vantage point to see into my neighbor's backyards. I figured since I hadn't formally met any of them yet, I would try and guess now whom I'd have to worry about if my part parties got too rowdy, and the risk of 911 calls would become a harsh reality. To my right, I saw a vibrant garden, a grill, and a hammock. I figured it was a middle-aged couple.

Hopefully they're not too old and cranky, I thought to myself as I turned my head to view my neighbors to the left. And that's when I saw him. Under a large oak tree, adorned in colorful Christmas lights, was what looked to be a young boy swinging away on his play set. Great, I thought. I bet his bedtime is a lot earlier than any party I throw would be ending. I continued to look at the boy. His back was turned to me.

He wore a hoodie and gloves, which struck me as odd since it was summer and pretty warm outside. I brushed it off and assumed the boy was sick. I went back inside and began to unpack everything. With the help of some friends, we managed to put together all my furniture, hook up my home entertainment system, and more or less get the house in working order. I just sent out the text, guys. Get ready to party tonight, I exclaimed as I leaped off the couch and finished my beer. The guys all began to cheer in a round of high fives were exchanged.

By now, the sun was setting, as it had been several hours since we had first. first brought in all my belongings. My friend Dan was unpacking one of the last boxes as he eagerly looked out of the window. Have you met your neighbors yet? Any fine young ladies going to be coming around here asking to borrow some sugar? He asked in a sarcastic tone as he turned to me with a lewd gesture. Smiling and walking over, I replied, No, not yet, but I don't think I'll have much luck in that department.

From the looks of it, it's just a bunch of normal families. One of them even as a kid. As I pointed to the house I had seen earlier, my face scrunched to show a look of confusion and surprise. The boy I had seen swinging earlier was still there. He was still swinging under the ambience of the lit-up tree. Weird. That kid was swinging when we first got here, too,

I said to Dan as he looked at his phone. Barely acknowledging my comment, he raised his hand up and mumbled, "'Mess be special ed kid or something.' He walked off, calling more people to invite them to the housewarming party. I turned back to the swinging boy. He couldn't have been swinging this whole time. Could he? That night, as planned, we had my housewarming party.

It was such a great time. I greeted my friends and cousins as they arrived, handing them all the beverage of their choice. We were outside until around three or four in the morning when the weather suddenly got cool and began to drizzle. I would have been willing to stick it out until it passed, but the girls all began to freak out, claiming their hair would frizz and they all ran inside. Naturally, the guys followed, holding makeshift umbrellas over the girl's heads. I laughed at myself at how hard they were trying to get lucky. I took the opportunity to quickly clean up some of the trash that had accumulated before going inside. I scooped up a bunch of cans and bottles before I turned around and was left in awe.

I guess we were all distracted by the music and alcohol to notice earlier, but now, with everyone inside, I saw it. The boy was still outside and on his swing. He was still in the same position and outfit I'd seen him in all day. Back turned to me, wearing the same hoodie and gloves. I stood there for a minute, lost in thought, when from behind me I heard aloud, Hi, a neighbor. I jumped and did a quick 180, dropping the trash I'd been carrying. Oh, sorry about that, bud.

Didn't mean to startle you. Laughed an elderly man. he was wearing pajamas and slippers as he held his hand out, waiting for a shake on my end. Oh, hello, sir, I said as I cleared my throat and shook his hand, collecting my thoughts. He smiled and began to fumble with his hands. I hate to be that guy, especially since, you know, you just moved in and everything, but you think you guys can turn down the music a bit. my wife and I are pretty light sleepers and at this age we tend to be early risers he said bashfully

I smiled and laughed as I put my hand in my face in embarrassment ah geez I'm sorry sir I guess things got a little crazier than planned I didn't think people would stick around this long I really did feel bad I half expected the man to come out yelling demanding us to keep it down lest he called the cops His gentle demeanor was refreshing, and I was more than happy to oblige. I laughed and replied, I'll go let everyone know that they need to stay inside and take it down a notch. I'm Peter, by the way.

I shook his hand. Pleasure to meet you, Peter. I'm Paul, he said, with a grin. As he smiled, his eyes drifted past mine and towards the swinging boy. I assume you've noticed the Langer's kid by now, huh? asked Paul as he cupped his hands and breathed into them to try to keep warm. Yeah, I said as I turned to face him. What's the deal with him?

He's been on that thing all day. Paul shrugged. Not sure. No one really knows the story. He just swings and swings. Until eventually, Paul stopped and his eyes widened. Wait, it's happening. Check it out.

I turned around to find the boy had stopped swinging. He sat completely still for a moment before slowly rising from the rubber seat of the swing. He began to shake violently, falling to his knees and scraping the dirt below him. Even from where we were standing, we were able to hear his quick bursts of shrieking and gurgling. I became concerned. Was the boy okay? It looked like he was having an asthma. attack her a seizure. I started to run to the boy in order to help but stopped after a couple of

steps. His mother had run out. I looked at her, completely sober now from the adrenaline that was pumping through my body. It was not a pleasant sight. She was a frail, haggard woman with a gray, knotted mane of hair on her head. Her skin was pale and her eyes had dark bags underneath. It looked as if she hadn't slept or had a proper meal for ages. Mrs. Langer rushed out quick, holding a small, orange bottle the kind one would receive from a pharmacist. After she reached her boy, she knelt down and poured several white pills into her hand. Before she could even finish offering the pills to her son, he had grabbed her arm and buried his face into the palm of her hand and hailing the pills. Mrs. Langer pulled away and began to rub her wrist, and appeared the boy had hurt her,

which did not really surprise me due to how skinny the woman was. Paul and I watched intensely without uttering a single word. After a moment or two, the boy simply rose back to his feet, sat back down on his swing, and resumed his leisurely activity. Mrs. Langer grabbed the now empty orange bottle and proceeded back inside. still clutching her wrist. Paul and I were both shaken up. We had no idea what we had just seen.

I've seen the boy spas out before, but never that bad. I bet whatever condition he has is getting more severe. Poor kid, Paul said as he rubbed the back of his head. What? What exactly is wrong with him? I asked, with my eyes still glued to the child. Like I said, I don't know. No one around here does, Paul replied, turning around and walking back to his door. Anyway, my wife is probably getting worried. You have a good night, Peter.

Yeah, I sighed, arranging my thoughts. Nice meeting you, Paul. We both exchanged a final wave and returned to our respective households. The party was dying down when I entered, and I entered. I was glad. What I had just seen took a lot out of me. The next morning I felt like shit. The copious waves of alcohol I had carelessly consumed the night prior had finally caught up to me. My head throbbed and I was severely parched. I stood up and the arid sensation in my mouth and throat was quickly replaced by feelings of nausea. I scrambled to the bathroom and dropped to my knees, clutching the porcelain for dearly. life.

Oh, at least I have the day off to recover, I thought to myself. I grabbed the sports drink I had strategically placed in the bathroom the day before in anticipation for my hangover and chucked it down in only a few gulps. I was no stranger to this feeling, and I knew what to expect. Within a couple of minutes, I began to vomit and immediately felt better, though not enough to have a very productive day. I mentally prepared myself for a day of mood. Movies, video games, and junk food.

After a couple of hours of lying in my borderline vegetative state, I heard the mailman make his stop at my door. In no mood to get off the couch, I ignored it and continued binge watching the zombie show everybody was raving about. It was probably not the best idea to be observing such grotesque gore while it felt as if a war was being waged in my stomach. I sucked it up and continued to watch. Several episodes later, I made my way to the kitchen and popped in a giant TV dinner into the microwave.

While it cooked, I decided I would bring in the mail from earlier. I unlocked the front door and let in some much-needed fresh air. I stood at the door and scooped up the contents of my mailbox, sifting through the junk mail and the bills when I saw I'd received a package. Without scanning the box for more details, I brought the small box inside and cut off the tape. I opened it only to find a small orange bottle, like the one I'd seen my neighbor holding last night. I was puzzled and searched for the mailing label on the box.

A mailman had delivered it to the wrong house. Annoyed, I let out a big sigh. I was not in the mood to get dressed and leave the house for anything, let alone awkwardly meet new neighbors in order to tell them I have the pills for their weirdo son. I looked out of my back window and saw the boy was swinging away as usual. I heard my microwave go off, indicating my food was ready. With one last glance at the child, I told myself,

the pills can wait, as the boy had scarfed down several the night before. I tossed the bottle of pills aside and made my way to the kitchen. After eating, I felt fatigued, which caused me to fall asleep on the couch. I woke up from my sleep to the sound of commotion outside my home. The repetitive beeping of a large vehicle in reverse echoed through my brain. Nightfall had arrived, and my house was engulfed in almost absolute darkness. The only light I could see was a dull gray from my now idle television, and the swirl of red and blue illuminating through my windows.

The scene that I awoke to was almost surreal. real, and I thought for a moment that I was dreaming. I got on my feet, and I looked through my front window. A crowd had gathered on my front lawn. They were facing the ambulance that was parked in the driveway of the Langer House. I threw on a light coat to hide my stain, most likely rancid-smelling shirt I had been stewing in all day. In the crowd, Paul stood amongst several other people, who I presumed to be residents of the neighborhood. "'Hey, Paul,' I blurted as I cleared the phlegm from my throat.

"'What the hell is going on?' With his eyes still glued to the scene that unfolded next door, he replied, "'Well, we're not exactly sure. "'We think something may have happened to someone in the house. "'Mr. Langer is speaking with one of the paramedics and he looks panicked.' "'I saw the man Paul was referring to. "'Like his wife, Mr. Langer also looked as long as, if his body was depleted and barren. He wore a loose tank top that showed just how skinny he was.

His ribs poked through the pale, tight skin on his torso. He was pacing around frantically, covering his eyes and mumbling something to himself. I was still gazing at the distraught man when the soft murmuring of the crowd around me erupted into a frenzy of screams and cries. I turned to the door of the Langer house, and dread began to fill my body. Two policemen exited the house, followed by a paramedic who wheeled out a gurney. The top of the gurney was the bloodied body of the seemingly lifeless Mrs. Langer. From where we were standing, we were able to see the pale, bruised wrist of the poor woman hanging from the side, blood running down and dripping from her fingertips. It began to twitch and her head bobbed around as the paramedic pressed an oxygen

mask to her face and hoisted the gurney into the back of the ambulance. I turned to Paul who was standing on the tip of his feet in order to see over the crowd. One of the policemen made his way over to our now frantic group of screaming men and women, ordering us to disperse and return to our homes. everyone began to bombard the officer with questions asking what happened and if they were safe. You have nothing to worry about people. It appears a group of coyotes attacked Mrs. Langer in her backyard. We've since located and neutralized the animals.

Remarked the officer, avoiding eye contact with anyone before him. It was clear he was lying through his teeth. I raised my hand and showed it above the crowd. And what about the boy? Was he hurt? The officer shot me a look of irritation and cleared his throat as he hesitantly announced. He was not anywhere near the scene of the attack. We assume he got scared and ran away for safety and we're in the process of looking for the child.

If anyone sees him, please call 911 immediately. With that, the officer turned his back to the less than satisfied crowd. and almost ran back to his cruiser. I turned to Paul who bared a look of dismay. He turned and shot an apathetic smile before patting me on the back and making his way inside. I stood there for a moment, after the crowd slowly disbanded. Was this my fault?

Did it have something to do with the pills? I quickly disregarded the paranoid thoughts that plagued my mind and walked back to my home. I slid through the front door that I had carelessly left a jar and shut it behind me as I slid down and cut my hands around my head. There was a legion of emotions coursing through me as I pondered my next move. I knew I had to get the pills out of my house. Though the chances were slim, I did not want any blame being directed at me for not returning the pill sooner. Hell, I knew I had committed at least one federal crime when I unknowingly opened it.

somebody else's mail. I decided I would anonymously place the box of pills in the Langer's mailbox and dashed back inside. I grabbed the pills from my couch and glanced out of the back window. The Christmas lights and the oak tree were as bright as ever, illuminating the grisly crime scene that lied just below. Blood and ripped clothing veiled the ground. That's when I saw them.

The boy's gloves and hoodie were lying. amongst the carnage. My heart sank. I was sure the boy was dead, or at the very least, critically injured. Tears began to fill my eyes as I banged my fists on the windowsill. The sudden burst of sound emanated throughout my home. I hadn't made a peep since I entered. The sudden contrast in sound made the shameful silence that followed even more noticeable.

in the midst of the grim silence. I heard it, the low, spine-tangling gurgle that flowed from my bedroom. I froze, barely breathing. I listened keenly for another sound. To my dismay, I heard it again. Another disgusting gurgle, now louder and fiercer. Almost like a growl. The lights in my home were still all off, aside from the weak aura that radiated from the idle television.

I was frozen still. My body rebelled against my mind's desire to move. Instinct began to kick in as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, and fight or flight became a quick reality. I did not know what was in my house. All I knew was I was definitely going to choose flight. I pulled out my phone and fumbled for the flashlight app as I took a step towards my back door. My eyes were glued to the short hallway that connected the main area of the house to my bedroom.

That's when I saw it. A small creature began to crawl from the hallway. I could barely make out any of its space. features, it looked human but on all fours. The way it moved was eerie and awkward. The appendages moved sloppily and its head was to the ground. I heard the same terrifying gurgle from the creature and realized it was sniffing the floor. And what happened next still feels me with dread when I look back. The flashlight app I had opened, had finished loading up and powered on through the phone. The bright light pierced the darkness and lit up the monstrous figure. Do you ever

get the feeling in the middle of a nightmare where you start to suspect you aren't in reality and you're begging yourself to wake up? That desperate feeling of despair coursed through every fiber of my being. In front of me stood the Langer Boy. Without all the layers of clothing he usually wore, I was able to see him for what he really was. This was not a normal child. His skin was tattered and worn out. Rinkles and scars embellished his body. He slowly raised his head to the source of the light.

Our eyes met. His eyes were the worst part. heart. However intense the darkness around his mother's eyes were, they could not compete with the boys. The black around his peepers only worked to showcase his dilated pupils in the unnatural color of the irises. I might as well have been made of stone. All my ability to move had completely ceased. I could only stand there and watch the situation unfold before me. The boy slowly turned his body in my direction and began to take steps closer and closer. He left bloody prints where his hands met with the wood grain of my floor.

It was not long until he was less than a foot from me. For what seemed like an eternity, he did not move. Neither of us did. My mind was warped and panic. and I thought I would pass out. Before I had the chance, the boy rose from his animal-like posture. He was now standing on his feet, arms dangling to his sides. His eyes peered into mine.

I stared back, still paralyzed with fear. He began to sluggishly turn his focus from my eyes to my hand, the one that still clutched a bottle of the pills. As soon as he realized what I held, he broke the silence and led out a demonic shriek, like that of a banshee. Only his mouth moved as his jaw dropped. This awoke me from my trance, and I fell down still facing the boy.

He crouched so that his face met mine. His mouth was still agape, exposing his sharp mangrove. old teeth, the tiny razor still contained small shreds of what I assumed to be his mother's flesh. He stretched his arm toward me and unraveled his blood-stained hand. Instantly, I knew what he was after. You, my voice trembled. You want your pills, right? He continued to stare at me, unwavered by.

my question. I lifted up my hand and began to open the small orange bottle. With shaking hands, I bored several pills into the palm of the child. I waited for a minute. I did not know time could move so slowly. I just wanted him to leave. Eventually, the boy's mouth shut and curled into a faint smile. He turned and made his way to the back door. He shot one final glance over to me as he tilted his head back and consumed all the pills I had given him. With an audible gulp, he pushed open the door and wandered back to his sanctuary. I watched as the boy took a seat on his swing

and began to sway forward and backward like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. I managed to shut my back door before collapsing to the ground. It's been a week since that night, and I've returned the pills as planned. Mrs. Langer is still in critical condition, and now her husband has taken over, feeding the mysterious pills to his son whenever he needs them. I was never questioned by anyone about what transpired that night. I did not report the incident.

I plan to move out soon. Maybe to an apartment in the city where there are no yards or play sets. The nightmares and fear from that night have run rampant in my mind. My backyard is still a mess from the party. I have not dared to go back there in order to clean things up. This is due to the fact that since that fearful night, the boy makes sure to swing facing my home. Whenever I even glance out of the window, I see his haunting eyes peering into mine as he

smiles that horrid smile. The last I saw of the boy was his father coming out to give him another dose of the medication. Mr. Langer was down to his last bottle. That was three long nights ago. I'm looking out of the window now to see what I expected to see an empty swing. Yes, children's playgrounds can be fun and enjoyable places when they're full of happy, rambunctious kids.

But as author Jimmy Giuliano makes abundantly clear, the site of an old abandoned playground can be most disturbing indeed. In his tale, we meet a husband and wife who share, their own separate versions of an event from their past when they were seeking to find a sinister playground which may or may not have been real or perhaps just an urban legend. Their retelling of the tale reveals that the two don't exactly agree on the events. Performing this tale with me are Nicole Doolin and Mike Delgado. So don't be fooled by the whimsical name of that dreary place.

There's nothing pleasant about what awaits you at Uncle Jerry's Family Fun Zone. No Will could draw. I remember thinking as my friend's hand quickly moved across the page. And then I looked more closely at Will's impromptu sketch, and I immediately regretted it. I tried to unsee it. I shifted my attention to other things around me, anything at all that wasn't ink on the page. The blur of Will's hand, the beads of sweat gathering at his temples, the gentle autumn breeze creeping through the crack of the window.

Don't look at the page, just don't look at it. But I knew I had to, so I looked, and it was worse than I expected. Much worse. Will had sketched a near-carbon copy of those wartime Uncle Sam posters, except not quite. The suit was there, bowtie, check, but no Uncle Sam had. The Uncle Sam body had the head of a goat. The animal flashed a welcoming, toothy smile.

A hoof pointed at me, nearly coming right out of the page. But it didn't want me to join the U.S. Army, no. This goat-headed creature had something else in mine. I want your kids. Under that declaration, in slightly smaller letters it read, At Uncle Jerry's Family Fund Zone, Opening soon. I'd never heard of Uncle Jerry's Family Fund Zone before yesterday. The place I quickly learned played host to a significant moment in Will's childhood,

and although I'd been good friends with him for 15 years, he'd never told me the story. But today, he opened up. I wasn't trying to reopen any wound. from his past. I just wanted him to tell me a story, any story. I'd been listening to a lot of NPR and being inspired by their storytelling segments and slices of American life. I purchased some professional recording equipment and set up a makeshift studio in my house. My goal was to capture and archive the stories of my friends, relatives, really anyone who had something to say.

Call it boredom. I was a widower with a seven-year-old son. Besides doting on my kid, I needed something productive to fill the time. My recording area was cozy, just a couple of microphones, a small table, few chairs. I'd set a few feet from my interview subjects. The intimacy would induce real honesty and emotion. That was the plan, and it worked a little too well. I never thought my storytelling experiments would go so wrong, so quickly. and it wasn't just Will's story and his sketch of the Uncle Sam human goat hybrid thing.

Before I'd interviewed Will, I heard another version of Will's events from the other person involved in the family fund zone incident. Will's wife and my good friend Caroline. Caroline and I had dated for a little while in college. The stretch of time we now joked occurred in a parallel universe. We were never supposed to happen, we decided. Instead, there was some sort of cosmic hiccup and different universes intersected for the briefest of times. Our relationship was over before it started. Caroline then began dating Will.

The two lived happily ever after, and the three of us have been close ever since. Caroline and Will's history predated our collective existence in college. The two went to high school together. But I never knew exactly what they'd experienced as classmates and friends. not until I set up my little recording studio. I interviewed Caroline first, and Will's interview occurred the following day. Both of my friends requested I not tell the other about the contents of their respective interviews. I'm certainly not planning on it.

Both interviews were long and free-ranging. I'll just relay the relevant portions of their stories, the stuff about relationships and about Uncle Jerry's family fun zone. It's important that these stories be shared in some form. Excerpt of Caroline's interview. So how did you and Will meet? We went to the same schools growing up, but we weren't friends or anything like that. You know how you kind of know everyone you go to school with, but most people are just on the periphery?

That was Will. Always there, but not really. We ran with different circles. You can't pinpoint the moment you actually met for the first time? I can't. I can remember the first meaningful interaction we had, though. I was writing for the school paper, and, God, I can't believe I actually wrote for the paper, because I was a terrible, just horrible writer.

And I was researching a story. It was a legend in our town, something all the kids talked about, but no one's could prove. Did you have any of those? I think so. I'd have to think about it, but I'm sure I had some. Yeah, so you know what I'm talking about. One of those, oh, my brother's friend's mechanic had this experience type thing. It was pretty famous growing up where we did. Kind of a spook story to scare kids from staying out late at night or running around doing irresponsible things. It was this place called Uncle Jerry's Family Fun Zone. Gosh, I haven't thought about that place in years.

Uncle Jerry's Family Fun Zone? Just saying it out loud sounds so weird, right? Just completely and utterly made up. And when we got older, most of us thought that it was made up, because it was just a silly and stupid legend. So, of course, it would have a ridiculous name. What was the legend? It's been so long, but from what I remember, it was a children's playzone type place that existed in the late 70s or early 80s.

No one could pinpoint it, but the story was this guy, Jerry something, but everyone called him Uncle Jerry, inherited a piece of land out in the woods from his grandfather. He took all of his money and turned it into the fun zone. You know, slides, games, trampolines. Kind of like an indoor wreck type place, but all barnyard themed, so the place looked like a red and white barn with a silo. But inside was all of this kid stuff. He built this out in the woods. That's what everyone said. But the messed up part was what happened there. Apparently, like 30-some years ago, a kid slid down the slide and just vanished into the ball pit.

Like, there was no trace of him. I think he was only four, maybe five. I can't remember for sure. Anyway, they emptied the ball pit and everything. The only thing at the bottom was a trap door and a crawl space that led nowhere. It just dead ended. No one knew why it was there. But yeah, the kid vanished, the town freaked, Jerry split, and the place shut down.

And that really happened? Every kid in town believed. it. The story was that it was some sort of a hellhole that sucked down small children, that it needed to be fed. Like, it swallowed up that kid, and if anyone went near the place, it would swallow you up to. Don't explore too far from home or you'll stumble across Uncle Jerry's. But you get past middle school, and you think it's all bullshit. Was it bullshit? You said you were writing a story about it for the and you met Will. Yeah, so I decided to write about Uncle Jerry's, and Will heard about it.

He joined the newspaper club because he wanted to help. I think he just wanted to spend time with me, but he helped me with my research. We talked to people, looked at old newspapers, spent a lot of time in those creepy library stacks. That's where Will held my hand for the first time. God, we were so young. Did you find anything? Nothing. There was no record of the place.

We even talked to the police department. They had nothing. Did they know what you were talking about? Oh, yeah. Everyone had heard of Uncle Jerry's, and everyone was really nice about helping us, but nothing factual existed. My article was going terribly.

It was all dead ends. Was that what you were? expected? I don't know what I expected. I just thought it'd be a cool article. So I had a lot of interviews of people telling the stories and I was going to write this oral history type article, but then, God, I haven't thought about this in years. Will came to me. He said he knew where the fun zone was. He said he had directions. To a place that didn't exist? Will said that it did. It was out in the woods, down some roads that weren't on the maps. How did he get those directions?

It's been so long. I honestly can't remember. Did they fall out of some ancient book at the library? I think that's what happened. But he had them. Did you go there? I've never told anyone this. No one.

I can't believe I'm telling you right now. Will it, I haven't talked about it since it happened. Wow, really. It's okay. We don't have to keep going. No, no, it's fine. It's just...

Seriously, Caroline. I'm not trying to psychoanalyze you or ruin your marriage by making you dredge up terrible memories. That's not what I'm trying to... It's okay. I want you to know. I want you to know.

It wasn't supposed to be there. It just wasn't. What happened was... Will was going to go there first to make sure it was safe, and I'd meet him there later on. And I did. I followed the directions perfectly, down all of those forgotten dirt roads that used to be real roads. Right turn at a rock the size of a Volkswagen, go three quarters of a mile and take a left at the pine tree with the downed limb, stuff like that. All landmark stuff.

but the directions were perfect. I drove what felt like forever down this bumpy road, and it just ended nowhere else to go. And there was Will, standing at the side of the road next to his car, hands jammed in his pockets, and he had this look in his eyes. He just looked different. It's almost like after that night there were two wills.

The first will who had worked on the story helped me research and held my hand in the library. He was so sweet, just so shy, tender, innocent. But after that night, he'd changed forever. Like he never looked at me the same way again. And we've been married now for nine years and together since. junior year of college, so 13 years, and he's never looked at me the way he looked at me in the basement of the library back in high school. It was that night at the fun zone that changed him. I know it. It was that night. Caroline? Have you ever thought about us? Like, what if our

parallel universe had fully intersected forever with the real one? And we were together? I haven't. Look, I think I should stop recording. Please don't. It's just me and Will. Nine years. No kids.

No babies. And he just doesn't look at me like he's supposed to. He's supposed to give me a baby. And we're supposed to be living this love story, but something went wrong. And it all started that night. What happened? On that night, I mean. I pulled off to the side of this dirt row that no one had driven on in probably decades, and like I said, Will just seemed different.

I asked him if he'd found it, and he said that it was there. Uncle Jerry's family fun zone was there. Will grabbed two flashlights from his car, and we followed a path through some brush. Then it kind of emerged before us, nestled in the trees, the barn, the silo, everything. It was so strange. It was almost like it materialized, if that makes sense. It was dark, so yeah, I know what you mean. And there was this picket fence around the place, and each board was painted either yellow, green, or light purple, and it held up better than it should have.

The paint should have completely peeled off, or maybe the whole thing should have fallen down. But it was in good shape. Did you go inside? I mean, we came all that way, right? The main entrance was this huge wooden double door, probably 15 feet high and above it was the sign, Uncle Jerry's family fun zone,

with this picture of a cartoon, farmer with a piece of straw hanging from his mouth. And the sign had been vandalized. Someone had spray-painted X's over the farmer's eyes, and nearly every letter had been scribbled out. Everything except for fun, but the F was turned into an R and an exclamation point was added, so it just read, run.

So we weren't the first people that had been there. and I remember thinking, I don't know if this makes me feel better or worse. Who went in first? Will did. He pushed open the door and did creech the whole time. I was nervous someone would hear it, but we were out in the middle of nowhere, you know?

So that was kind of dumb. Will raised his flashlight and jumped backwards into me. We were staring at this giant, goat statue made out of fiberglass. Had to have been seven feet tall. It was standing on its hind legs with its other front legs reaching out, like it was hugging something invisible. I guess it was a photo walk.

You know, stand inside it, take your picture. And they were everywhere. What was everywhere? Fiberglass farm animals. Goats, sheep, cows, pigs. all standing on two legs. All of their front legs extended. They were scattered around the whole place,

almost like soldiers keeping watch. Most of them were covered with some black soot substance. I ran my hand across one of the sheep. The soot was probably a half inch thick. I still remember a trickling through my fingers. It was wet and almost gooey. I honestly don't know what it was What else was inside?

Slides They were everywhere Slides, jungle gyms, swinging bridges basketball court We crept around for I don't know how long Just not believing it was real And it was just so dark and utterly silent We got turned around so many times

It was like we were going deeper and deeper and I know this doesn't make sense, but it felt like we walked longer than we should have, like the place was bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside. At one point, I remember looking back at Will and saying, it's like a maze in here. And right at that moment, we almost ran into a sign that said, Uncle Jerry's amazing cornstalk maze.

We were right at the entrance to a maze, but it wasn't made out of corn. The walls were wooden with peasant. corn stalks painted on them. And there was no way we were going in there. Not a chance. Did you find the ball pit? We did. It was at the bottom of the tallest and widest slide in the whole place, right in the center of the barn. And the pit was just massive. Had to have been 40 feet wide and maybe six feet deep. But it was empty. No plastic balls. Just a giant, Aaron Pitt and there was a ladder going down into it.

And from where we were standing, we saw the hatch. Will looked at me, and he just kind of shrugged and he said, this is why we are here, right? We climbed down and as we walked towards the hatch, our feet echoed. But it was a different kind of echo, like it died quickly, too quickly, almost like something was sucking away the noise. I can't believe you guys did this. I guess it was adrenaline.

Our flashlights were directly on the hatch, and it had one of those round steel rings, no lock. We stared at it for a while without saying anything, almost like we were expecting it to start pulsating or to pop open. But we wanted to know what was inside, had to know. So we decided to do it together. We grabbed the steel ring with both hands and pulled it up. I thought I'd be greeted by the bones of that dead kid,

but there was only the smell that rushed us. It was very cold and crisp and with a tiny whiff of sulfur. Will hopped right in and I reluctantly followed. The stories were all true. It was a crawl space to nowhere. We crouched down and crawled about 20 feet, and the tunnel just ended. Nothing but a smooth steel wall. We ran our hands across it.

Maybe we'd find a secret handle or trigger, a button, or something, but there was nothing. And then we heard the noises from above. Holy God! Something had jumped into the pit, because the first thing we heard was the sea. single reverberating thud. It was unmistakable. And then the footsteps directly above us, walking towards the hatch. We killed our flashlights and pressed our backs into the steel. Will put his arm around me and covered my mouth, and I did the same to him. My leg started trembling and bouncing on the floor, and Will grabbed it, steadying it. We listened as the footsteps got close.

closer to the hedge. And then they just stopped. And I wanted to look down the tunnel. I did. But I didn't want whatever was there to see the whites of my eyes. Because I was terrified it would give me away. But I felt its presence across the tunnel. I knew it was there. I felt it leaning down and staring at us. I'm sure about that. I even heard it breathing softly. Did he say anything? No, it just watched us for a while, and I never opened my eyes. And the next thing I remember is the hatch slamming shut, and both Will and I jumping and hitting our heads on the crawl space ceiling. We stayed there silent for, it had to be an hour.

We eventually worked up the courage to crawl to the other end in pitch black, and I was praying, just praying that this... thing or person or whatever wasn't inside this crawl space with us we were too scared to even turn on our flashlights every inch we crawled i thought this is it i'm going to reach out and feel something warm and snarling but we made it to the end and we slowly raised the hatch thank god it hadn't locked us inside we climbed out and ran just ran and just ran and i I don't even remember my legs moving beneath me. I remember it being...

I was in the crawl space. Now I'm outside. Now I'm at the car. Just like that, we were safe. Did you tell anyone about this? Did you write the article? Will followed me to my house. We promised each other to never talk about it ever again.

We were done. No article, nothing. Why not? I think we stumbled across something we were never meant to see. And something knew we were there. And I think it led us off with a warning. We didn't want to make it mad. We were given a second chance.

You keep calling it, it. Is there a reason for that? Just a hunch. Just the sounds it made when it walked. The vibe it gave off. It didn't feel human. I honestly can't believe you haven't talked about this since high school. Your Will haven't brought it up, not once?

Will is... I love Will, but it changed him. It changed me. How long has it been since Grace died? Fifteen months. And you two didn't have secrets or things you didn't talk about? Well, we talked about everything, at least for my part. and I'm sure she wasn't keeping anything for me.

What's that like to have a marriage like that and a child to love? I think what we had was rare, and Tyler is my world. He's my everything. Do you ever think? I turned off the recording. Caroline was traveling down a road that I had no interest in going. She left shortly thereafter, making me promise not to share anything with Will. I gave her my word. At one point I dropped the digital recording of her interview in the

trash icon and hovered over the empty button for a few seconds, but I couldn't do it. I dragged it back to a folder on my desktop. Will came by the next day for his interview. It began plainly enough, the first 20 minutes focused on his grade school years, his baseball playing days in college and his love of 80s action movies, nothing revelatory, nothing deep. That quickly changed. The interview direction veered towards love and marriage. I tried to avoid it, but it came up organically. Will hesitated, contemplating. I'd hope we'd detour right around it, but he looked at me sharply in the eyes and said, have you ever heard of Uncle Jerry's family fun zone? I lied and I told him, I hadn't. He grabbed a sheet of paper from my desk and sketched out the Uncle Sam type flyer for that

cursed children's fun zone. That's where this interview excerpt kicks in. Excerpt of Will Interview. Remember it? I was sitting in class. I think it was Spanish. And I look over and this beautiful girl in the row next to me is furiously scribbling in her notebook. And she's drawing this. I can't explain it, but I was drawn to it. There was something about it. So I stopped her after class, and I asked her, what's Uncle Jerry's family fun zone? Because I'd never heard of the damn place.

Was it a place in town? Well, that's the thing. It apparently was some kid's play area-type place in the 1970s, and some little kid drowned in a ball pit, if that makes sense. Caroline told me the whole story, saying it was the most famous legend in our town and she was writing a newspaper story about it.

But I'd never heard of it. I asked all my friends, my parents, teachers, and I always got the same response. What are you talking about? And that made me more curious. Is this beautiful girl putting me on? Or does she have a wild imagination? because according to Caroline, this legend was as famous as Bigfoot or the Lochness monster or whatever.

Are you sure you weren't asking the right people? Google it. You'll find absolutely zero about Uncle Jerry's Family Fun Zone. And if a legend is that famous, wouldn't it have some presence on the internet nowadays? Anything at all? Zero results. That's pretty incredible. And back then, it wasn't just people I knew.

I joined the newspaper club, mainly out of this incredible fascination to find out more about this girl and why she was obsessed with this legend that didn't exist. And we interviewed dozens of people for the story, historians, cops, librarians. We got a lot of strange looks. No one had ever heard of Uncle Jerry's, which only made me. me more curious. Did you guys get together? I know you started dating at college. I didn't know you had a history.

Not really. I mean, almost. Caroline had this pull on me that was hard to explain. We were spending a lot of time together. And she was gorgeous and funny and motivated. Oh, man, just motivated to find out more about this Uncle Jerry's place. And I liked it. Even when I thought she was maybe a little crazy, I liked it.

But she wasn't crazy. So it was real. Here's the thing. We had no clues or leads, and I was just hoping she'd give up. You know, drop the whole thing, and we can start dating and doing normal teenage things or whatever. But one night... Oh, shit, I haven't thought. about this in forever. I was up late cramming for a test, and I see this bundled up old guy walking

down my street, just kind of puttsing along, and the guy looks like he's 200 years old. And he stops at the end of my driveway, reaches into his overcoat, pull something out, and slips it in my mailbox. And I was like, what the hell is this? I stand up, and he snaps his head. and looks right at me. It was freaky. Just freaky. I dive down on the floor and don't have the balls to look outside

for another ten minutes. By that point, he was gone. What did he put in the mailbox? I found out in the morning. It was directions, scribbled on a napkin. Weird-ass directions, like drive down this door.

dirt road and look for the tallest tree, then turn right type of directions. I immediately knew it had something to do with Uncle Jerry's. I just knew it. Did you tell, Caroline? Well, here's the thing. I... And this will sound terrible. I can't believe I'm telling someone, but here's what happened. This Uncle Jerry thing had been going on for weeks. And I know I said I liked the fact that Caroline was obsessed over it, but things turned weird quick. She kept coming over to my house to hang out, but she didn't seem too interested in me. She was more interested in my brother, who was two at the time. And it's hard to explain.

It wasn't like a normal, I like playing with your brother thing. It was... It was creepy. The way she looked at him. It was almost like she needed him for something. That she was going to snatch him. Like we'd come home one day and David would be gone. And it was because Caroline took him.

Wow. I... I don't expect you to understand any of this. It doesn't make any sense, but I felt it. I'm telling you. you it was real in my heart I had this hideous feeling it was all related to this Uncle Jerry's family fun zone obsession I thought Caroline was looking for this place and was going to offer up my brother as some form of a sacrifice oh man just saying it sounds so

messed up you probably think I'm yanking your chain I mean this is my wife we're talking about here. This is Caroline. It's fine. You don't sound like you're lying. I wouldn't. Not about this. Did you tell anyone? No. They'd probably think I was the crazy one. The whole thing was insane beyond belief. But I had to know what she was up to. So here's what I did. I told Caroline I'd found directions to Uncle Jerry's, told her they'd been folded up in some library book about the town's history or something. I gave her directions to the place, and I told her I'd check it out first. But here's the thing. I gave her the wrong directions. What do you mean? I made them up, wrote down a bunch of gibberish. They led miles outside of

town in the opposite direction. And then I followed. followed my directions, the ones the old man left me, and they led me right to it. It was real. This Uncle Jerry's place, it was real, man. It made no sense. And then Caroline showed up. With the wrong directions? Never forget it. Seeing her car pull up, she should have been 40 miles away. But here she was, and that's when I knew. There was something wrong about her, something wrong about that old man, something wrong about that place. It was like Caroline was magnetically drawn to it.

Uncle Jerry's family fun zone. Like it exists because she believes it exists. I decided at that moment that there, There was some form of evil forces in the world that I would never understand. Never. And Caroline was wrapped up in it. How was the place real? Like I said, it didn't make any sense.

Nothing did. We even explored the place for a while, and it was, it feels like I'm going back there right now. And I never wanted to go back. never that musty smell those animals that towered over us like monsters it's just

well why don't we end this I can't know no just a little more there's some things that you should know I'd never seen Caroline so excited still haven't I swear she was bouncing around that place wanted to

explore every inch. She even pulled me into some horrifying corn maze I thought we'd never get out of. And then we found it. We found the place where the kid had disappeared. Caroline pulled open this hatch in this enormous empty ball pit, and we wiggled through this crawl space that dead ended. and then we heard something. Someone else was inside the barn. We heard its footsteps above us, and it was stomping around. I thought maybe it was the old man, because who else would know we were here? Was it the old man?

It wasn't. No way. We were huddled up at the end of the crawl space, and my legs were shaking so bad, I thought they would spring free from my body. Caroline held them down for me. She was so calm. Just so calm. The hatch opened, and in the dark I saw this figure kind of leaned down. It definitely wasn't the old man.

It was too skinny. It couldn't have been a person. It just couldn't. So we stared at it from across this cruise. all space and at one point I turned to look at Caroline and she was watching this thing with this little grin on her

and that thing kept right on looking and breathing and then all of a sudden it kind of sniffed the air looked like it was smelling us and the voice oh God I'll never forget it

it was this voice that was deep and raspy and terrible all at the same time. It said, not young enough. Then it slammed down the hatch and it was gone. We waited a while. And when we thought it was safe, we ran back to our cars. Will, if I thought that we'd talk about this, I wouldn't have asked you to do this. I mean it. I never intended for to be like this. It's fine. It's just...

Someone needed to know. I'm just glad it's you. If I can ask. And if you don't want to answer, that's totally fine. Why are you with her? Why are you married to Caroline? Because someone had to marry her, and it had to be me. Does that make sense?

I know what happened at that place. I know that there's evil things in this world that have grabbed hold of her, but she's better. She never wrote that article, never talked about Uncle Jerry's family fun zone since then. I'm not sure if she even remembers it. Maybe the evil is gone. It could be gone forever. But I'm always waiting for it to come back. And that's why

I'll tell you this, but it goes to the grave, yeah? Yeah. She wants to have kids. Caroline wants to have a baby, but it won't be with me. I got a vasectomy years ago, back in college, actually.

I won't give her a baby, not after everything that I know. But now she wants one. more than anything. She'll find out. If you guys do fertility, the doctors will find out. I know. What will you do then?

I don't know. I don't know. My original hunch about my interview experiment was correct. There was just something about the microphones and tight space that elicits honesty. What I experienced with Caroline and Will was the rarest forms of honesty. and honesty I hoped to never, ever experience again. I wanted to rid myself of the entire situation. Even having the audio files just felt wrong,

like I was allowing evil to fester. But then I remembered what Will told me. Someone needs to know. So I spent hours transcribing their interviews. I dumped the files on a USB drive and tossed it into a box in my closet. and then I put my microphones and recorders out to the curb. It just wasn't worth it. But the purging didn't cure me.

I was haunted by Will and Caroline stories, and it wasn't just the horrific situations they found themselves in as high schoolers. It was the secrets and lies they've lived ever since. Will and Caroline came over for dinner a few weeks after the interviews, and it was like nothing was wrong. We drank, we laughed, I watched Will touch the small of Caroline's back and Caroline gently caress Will's elbow.

It all seemed so frighteningly normal, but I knew what they were living with, and it terrified me. The next day the doorbell rang. It was Caroline. She'd left her sweater at my place and was here to pick it up. It was my first time being alone with her since the interview. I was worried she'd bring up Uncle Jerry's family Fun Zone or wanting to have a baby, where she'd again gently broached the topic of me and her and what could have been or what could be. I just wasn't sure. I retrieved her sweater from the kitchen and walked her to the front door. I tried to read what was going on beneath her eyes.

I looked for a flicker of that evil that Will said grabbed hold of her all those years ago. I didn't see it. I saw just a lonely, sad woman who wanted more out of life than what she was given. We reached the front door and Caroline looked over towards my living room. Tyler lay nestled into the cushions lost inside the pages of a fantasy book. Caroline smiled lovingly at my boy and said to no one in particular. Not young enough. We thank you for being with us for our devilishly dark tales.

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