The NoSleep Podcast - NoSleep Podcast S6E08

Episode Date: November 15, 2015

It's episode 8 of Season 6. On this week's show we have five tales about channeling children, abhorrent apartments, and agonizing animation.The full episode features the following stories. The free version features only the first three tales."Sure to Follow" written by M.J. Pack and fully produced, narrated, and scored by Jeff Clement. (Story starts at 00:04:45)"Rooms Available for Cheap" written by CJ Robinson and read by Rima Chaddha Mycynek & Nikolle Doolin & David Cummings. (Story starts at 00:21:10)"A Strange Call" written by Matt Spire and read by Jessica McEvoy & David Cummings & Peter Lewis. (Story starts at 00:51:00)"Alternative Medicine" written by Max Aaron and read by Alexis Bristowe. (Story starts at 01:04:00)"Persistence of Vision" written by Alex Beyman and read by David Cummings & Elie Hirschman & Erika Sanderson. (Story starts at 01:13:50)Click here to hear "Soft White Damn," the first tale on episode S5E18 (starts at 04:20) Click here for the TANIS podcast Click here for Jeff Clement's Aural Stimualtion site Click here to learn more about M.J. Pack Click here to learn more about Matt Spire Click here to learn more about Max Aaron Click here to learn more about Alex Beyman Click here to learn more about Rima Chaddha Mycynek Click here to learn more about Nikolle Doolin Click here to learn more about Jessica McEvoy Click here to learn more about Peter Lewis Click here to learn more about Alexis Bristowe Click here to learn more about Elie Hirschman Click here to learn more about Erika Sanderson Podcast produced by: David CummingsMusic & Sound Design by: Brandon Boone & David Cummings."Persistence of Vision" illustration courtesy of SabuAudio 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 channeling.

children, abhorrent apartments, and agonizing animation. As I like to do from time to time, I want to make sure our listeners are aware of some of the other sources for great podcasts and audio stories. I'm thrilled that so many of you have fallen in love with the Black Tapes podcast, which has gone on to become a worldwide hit podcast. If you're familiar with the Black Tapes Parent Network, Pacific Northwestern, stories, I'm sure you'll love their new show called Tannis. Tanis is hosted by Black Tapes producer Nick Silver, and it's a serialized doctrama about a fascinating and surprising mystery, the myth of Tannis. If you like hidden mysteries, conspiracies, and the

creepy interconnections between things past and present, you'll get engrossed by Tannis. There are only four episodes into it at this point. So jump on board now, and maybe you'll become one of their runners. Another great source of audio horror stories is my fellow countryman, Jeff Clement. You've heard me mention Jeff in the past. He produces stories for chilling tales for dark nights, and, of course, for us. He also designs websites, including this super cool site all the kids are raving about. Oh, it's over at the Nostly Podcast.com.

And during the 4.6 minutes of free time Jeff gets every day, he also runs his own excellent channel where he produces audio horror, music, and other orally stimulating treats. In fact, that's the name of Jeff's channel, oral stimulation. That's A-U-R-A-L, not O-R-A-L. We're not talking dentistry here. I know many of you will recall a great production Jeff did for us. last season. Soft White Dam was featured on Season 5, Episode 18, author M.J. Pax's spine-tingling tale, which Jeff brought to life. Well, we have a treat for you this week. We're kicking off the show with the sequel to that story, once again produced and narrated by Jeff. So if you haven't heard Soft White Dam, or you need a refresher, hit pause, go to

Season 5, Episode 18. There's a link in the show notes. And prepare for a snowy nightmare. Then come back and join us for the sequel. You won't be sorry. Yes, you'll be scared to death and might need a change of pants, but you certainly won't be sorry. So check the show notes for Jeff's site and for Tannis

and allow yourself to get immersed in some of the best audio storytelling being produced. today. And since you're already here, let's throw this show into that list as well and start the show. In our first tale, as mentioned, we present the sequel to last season's story entitled Soft White Dam. Now that you've refreshed your memory about that story, it's time for the next chapter. In an effort to escape the snow and the entity haunting him, the man takes a trip to the warmth of New Orleans. The Big Easy proves to be anything but, as the man soon finds himself dealing with another visitor knocking at his door.

MJ Pack story is again fully produced and narrated by Jeff Clement. So beware. No matter how far you run, the trouble is sure to follow. Three goddamn days for the snow to stop. But when it did, I packed up all my things and got gone in a hurry. I didn't even shovel a walk before I left. Fuck it. I mean, it wasn't like I had to give notice or anything.

Dad's money makes life pretty easy and I don't need much. Besides, I've got places all over. Feels good to shake the dust off, or in this case the snow, and stay somewhere else for a while. Especially, I decided to head to New Orleans. A big easy. There's no place like Bourbon Street in the world, I tell you. So full of life and booze and half-coherent women.

My favorite things. Main problem is the rain. There's a reason they don't bury their dead in Louisiana. Stick them in big concrete boxes above the ground instead. But rain isn't snow, and I can survive. I'm good like that. I had a place on the outskirts of town. Close enough I could go into the city and have some fun,

but far enough from the constant buzz of Nola activity that I wouldn't be bothered. I mean, who can listen to jazz that often without going crazy? Jazz is fine and all, but there's a limit. was okay for a while. Started to suspect that maybe I'd even imagine the whole thing. Trick myself into thinking there had been something on the porch by way of whiskey and boredom. I mean, I'd been cooped up for days. What do they call that?

Cabin fever, right? Yeah. It was probably that, right? Then came the rain. It started as a drizzle. I was heading home from the bar after a fairly successful night, and suddenly it was spitting little droplets onto my windshield. The annoying kind that you barely need wipers for,

but if you don't use them, you can't really see. And it honestly pissed me off. This small thing that shouldn't have mattered, but did somehow. It was a black smudge on what had been a pretty good time, and I guess it reminded me of the snow. When I got home, I made sure to latch all the fancy new locks I bought from my doors. No use taking chances. By then, it was pouring.

I'd barely fixed myself a glass of Jack. Old habits die hard. When I heard, the knock I froze. Just like before, I waited. to God or Jesus or all the angels in heaven that I hadn't heard what I knew I had. Enough time passed, rain pounding steady on the roof, that for a brief blessed moment, I actually thought that, yeah, I had heard something, but it was just the storm and nothing else.

Again, I knew by now not to look outside, not to check the porch. Last time, that seemed to let it in my head somehow. Let it get me off the couch and almost open the door. Mr. It was a little voice, a kid's voice. He sounded all right, sort of familiar, barely audible over the rain. Maybe it was a neighbor. Maybe he sounded like someone I'd heard on TV.

All possibilities, sure. Most important, though, he sounded all right. But I still couldn't make myself look out there. Yeah? I called, inching towards the door. Who is it? Like I said, I'm on the outskirts of town. I pay attention real close to my neighbors.

I didn't remember seeing a kid. Mr. Let me in. The kid said, his voice shaking like it does when you're trying not to cry, but pretty close to failing. I was with my dad and he left me in the car and I don't know where he is. It's been real long. I'm getting so worried. For a second, my heart went out to the kid.

It really did. My dad did something similar like that to me too once When I was real little Then I realized How long's he been gone? I asked My voice wasn't shaking But I sort of was

Almost two hours The kid said miserably He parked outside of some house I don't know who lives there He told me to be a good point and wait. Of course he did. I remembered that much.

But, like my dad, I hadn't thought about it in a long time. Suddenly, wildly, the door-knock began to rattle. Please let me in. The kid, please... It's cold and wet out here and I'm soaked and I don't know where my dad is.

You didn't wait, I said, the glass of Jack sweating in the heart. palm of my hand. You got out and that's real bad kid. He told you to be a good boy and wait. A long, tense pause while the doorknob kept rattling.

I suppose. The kid said, sort of thoughtfully. Daddy might be awful mad if he finds out I didn't stay in the car, huh? I exhaled, took a big swig of whiskey, swallowed. It was like swallowing. cold metal. He was. The doorknob stopped moving. I suddenly knew why the kid had sounded familiar.

It wasn't a neighbor. It wasn't someone I'd heard on TV. He said slowly, drawing the last sound out long and low. I told you my dad was real particular about things, like shoveling the walk when it snowed. He was also real particular about rules and obeying them. We waited as long as we could, I said. Like talking to this other me outside the door was normal. Fine. Not bat-shit crazy. We waited, kid.

I know that. But it was such a long time. Daddy. He got mad, didn't he? Danny. It was still my voice. The voice of me when I was eight and my dad left me in the car and that was somehow worse. The Fun House Mirror version in the snow had been better because I could tell myself that there was something wrong, something bad.

But this just sounded like... Yeah, he sure did, I said. But he told us, you know, he told us to be good and what did we do? Got right out of the car and started snooping like spoiled little shits. Their swag. We deserved what we got. Are you sorry, Danny? He said.

Are you sorry for what you did, Danny? You didn't get what's coming to you. Aren't you sorry? I remember the weapon I got when we got home that night. I had gotten what was coming all right. Outside, the rain poured. No, we got punished. I already sort of resigned myself that this was happening.

There was no getting away from it, so I sat down on the couch closest to the door and swallowed half the glass. Don't you remember? We got it good. could barely sit down for a week. He'd used the belt that time. The part with the buckle. Slow, deliberate slaps against the door,

like palms smacking on wood. Let me in. Let me in. Let me in. I exhaled through my nose. The world was starting to dim around the edges, but I tried to ground myself. Took another sip, hoping it would warm my insides.

Would you become cold? Sick. I didn't answer. If you don't let me in, you'll get me. You'll get us. I didn't answer. Aren't you sorry? The windows.

I thought to put locks on the doors, but not the goddamn windows. I dropped the glass, grabbed my car keys, and went for the back like a bat out of hell. I'd left something important in the basement, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except getting away from that fucking thing. The screen door stuck at first when I tried to open it, nearly went barreling through the metal mesh. The stupid handle caught. It catches sometimes and it caught then.

And behind me, I heard one of the front windows open so hard the glass. last shattered. I slammed against the door with my shoulder and the handle caught again, broke. I fell through and started to run. My car was parked in a shed behind the house. It's more private that way. I like my privacy, just like my dad. With unsteady hands, I wrenched the shed doors open, boots slipping in the mud. It was already drenched. I made my way to the car when I heard it. Something was behind me. I was moving, fast. I threw myself into the car and jab the keys blindly into the ignition. Something must not because I got it the first time. Lurched the car into gear and drove straight through the back wall of the shed. Splintered wood when flying everywhere.

The car fish-tailed, its tires finding little traction in the mud. But soon I was off the grass and on the little gravel road that wound around my property. It led eventually to the highway, and that's how I got to the hotel where I'll be staying for a while. Who's listening? I don't know who cares, but if you are, if you do, need me to tell you that when I went back, in the daylight, of course, the front of my house was covered in filthy, muddy handprints. Of course, not. What I didn't expect, I guess, is for them to be so low to the ground, like it couldn't reach too high, like a kid couldn't. It comes in the snow, it comes in the rain, it keeps coming back. But like I said, I've got places all over. And what it doesn't know about me,

is how well I can survive. I survive my dad. Sometimes when looking for a new apartment, you have to get whatever you can afford, no matter how much nicer you wish your new place was. But in this tale from author C.J. Robinson, we meet a woman who realizes her neighbors have apartments so much nicer than hers,

and she soon finds out why that is. Performing this tale, are Rima Chathamysinic and Nicole Doolin. So if you need a new place to live, check out this building. I hear they have rooms available for cheap. I adjusted the basket under my arm, trying to relieve the way the wicker dug into my skin. Or fruit baskets even a thing people did anymore?

I hadn't been sure, so I threw in some store-bought muffins and some cookies I'd baked from some no-name frozen dough. baking had never been my thing, but I was eager to make a good impression on my first ever neighbors. I just had to cross my fingers that none of them had any nut allergies. Luckily for me and my bank account, there were only three people in the building aside from myself. I had already met two of the tenants on the first floor. There was a tired-looking, middle-aged man who lived directly below my apartment,

and a heart of hearing older woman who smelled distinctly of cat pee and cigarettes who lived right next door to him. Neither of them thanked me for my welcoming gift. Not that I was expecting a thank you, but still, it would have been nice. The man had been particularly strange, a little frightening even. Okay, more than a little. He had given me a weird look and asked if I was moving into the second floor apartment. His thick mouth twisted into a smile when I affirmed.

He then grabbed and pulled the gift basket suddenly. Taken by surprise, I didn't manage to let go of the basket and was dragged a few steps forward with it. He then leaned toward me, holding eye contact with bloodshot eyes. Boy, did he look like unshaved shit up close. The dark hallway lighting had actually been doing him a favor. I suggest you move out as soon. as possible.

His voice was low and deliberate. He grabbed my wrist before I could let go and step back. I suggest you move out as soon as possible. I stumbled back as he released my wrist and shut his door in my face. He'll be one to avoid

in the laundry room, that's for sure. Next, I stood in front of my last neighbor's door, hoping to catch her in. The mailbox had declared her as Miss Anna Sanford. I kicked the grungy old carpet, at least 20 years past its prime, when it struck me how oddly clean Miss Sanford's door was, not a chip of paint or a piece of grime to be seen.

Even the doorknob seemed to gleam. I glanced down the dingy hallway and down to my own apartment door. Management had had the decency to slap another coat of latex paint on, but it was peeling already. I would love it forever because it was my first apartment, but I certainly hadn't chosen this building for its looks. Mrs. Sanford's door seemed almost surreal in this yellowing hallway. One, two, three, four.

Only four doors on the second floor. Huh. I shared the west side with three empty apartments, but Anna's door stood alone. Huh, strange. I thought for sure I had knocked on at least eight doors on the first floor. I turned back to the door, intending to knock once more before giving up for the day. A pale face looked down at me with guarded interest.

Ooh, was all I managed to otter. My hand jumped in my chest, as if I could contain the wild thumping of my heart that way. Meanwhile, an orange tipped and fell out of the jolted basket with a thud. The woman picked it up and held it out to me, and a smile curved on her lips. Thank you. I managed after a moment and gratefully accepted the orange, placing it back with its friends. You startled me. I hadn't heard the door open.

The woman didn't say anything, but she kept her face arranged in a pleasant expression. My heart still hadn't stopped its jittering. I hated meeting people. Why was I forcing myself to do this? Because I assumed this is what grown-ups were supposed to do, plaster a smile on and make small talk. My name is Emily. I stretched my mouth into a grin and held out my hand.

I just moved in next door, and I thought I'd come around and meet the neighbors. I brought some fruit and muffins. The basket hung from one hand, while my unshaken hand was still pushed stiffly between. us. Housewarming gift, I finished, lamely. Anna Sanford. Her hand was small, well manicured, her grip firm. The quirky smile lifted the corners of her mouth. You can call me, Anna. She was a tall woman, taller than me at least, not that that was anything to write home about, and she was slender. I immediately had the notion that she was one of those well-to-do business women that you'd never see with a hair out of place,

who elegantly sipped wine during dinner meetings with clients. I glanced down quickly to her feet and was pleasantly surprised to see a worn pair of slippers instead of expensive heels. You just moved into the one-bedroom apartment? That place has a great view. It really does. I gushed a bit.

The downtown skyline was perfect. The sun setting right behind it cast a splash of warm colors. I'd already set up my old camera right in front of the window in the living room, not wasting any time. That apartment has been empty for a while. This floor was getting pretty lonely. I'm glad someone finally moved in.

She sent a dazzling smile my way. My head swam a bit with my luck. A nice neighbor? Had I just made my first city friend? I smiled back and handed her the basket, which she accepted gracefully. Yeah, well, I better get back to unpacking, but I'm always available if, um, you know, you need or want to, like, hang out. I rubbed the back of my neck. When had I gotten so damn rusty at Smalltalk?

Anna nodded. Would you like to come in and break in these muffins? Anna cocked her head to the side. side. Relief washed over me. Huge, gorgeous, elegant, expensive. How many words can I use to describe Anna's apartment? It took me at least ten minutes to get over my initial shock and feel the first pangs of jealousy, in which Anna had plenty of time to usher me to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. It was pretty clear why Anna's door stood alone. Her apartment expanded along the whole east side of the building. Her entrance led into an amazing sitting area

with high ceilings and tall windows. Her floors were polished until they shone, a rich oak, where my floors even wood? Under all that staining and grime, it was hard to tell. There was a long-looking hallway to the right. A door directly at the end caught my eye, and my feet seemed to shuffle towards it on their own. But a warm hand on my back kept me moving to the sunny and welcoming kitchen. I sat gingerly in her breakfast nook. She had a breakfast nook. My kitchen involved an oven that didn't open all the way and an industrial-looking sink.

Wow. She grinned at me. I get that a lot. Lots of hard work and love went into this place. She sat down across from me and handed me a steaming cup. I shook my head as she gestured toward the sugar, which she proceeded to upend into her own mug. It just seems, well, it was a surprise. It's so clean.

Mm-hmm. And big. Mm-hmm. It seems almost out of place in this building. The rest of the place looks condemned. Anna shot me a strange look. All it needs is some love. When I got here, my apartment looked like the rest of the building.

Ah, it seems no matter how hard I scrub, I just can't get my place clean looking. You just need to find the right cleaning supplies. I shrugged and sipped the strong coffee. How long have you lived here? A while now. Maybe eight or so years. I quietly did the math in my head. She was older than I figured. Like I said, when we got this place, it looked a lot like the rest of the building.

Oh, do you have a boyfriend? I regretted the question when her expression went dark for a moment. I had one when I moved in. I'm not sure what you'd consider us now. Sore subject. Any pets? I have a cat around here somewhere. She likes to roam the building.

Oh, I think I've heard her. Does she get along with Mrs. Rainer's cats? The lady downstairs? I wasn't aware she had cats. Oh, I guess I just assumed from... From the way she smells. Hey, speaking of our neighbors, what's up with the guy below me? Mark?

Why? What did he say to you? Anna's eyes narrowed. I gripped my mug tightly. Nothing in particular. He just told me to leave or something like that. I think he must have been messing with me. I made my tone as light as possible and tried not to think about the look in his eyes. Don't pay him any mind. He's been living on borrowed time ever since his wife anyway. Although Anna patted my hand reassuringly, a shiver crawled up my spine. I spent the rest of the night unpacking, a movie running.

from my tinny computer speakers. Internet was the absolute first thing I set up. Okay, second after my fishies. I'd had these three goldfish for nearly four years now. I don't care what anyone says. Fish are not stupid pets. Bubbles, buttercup, and blossom. I had not been an inventive 14-year-old.

They were the only ones I could talk to when times got bad. But, past was past, and now is now. Fresh city, fresh apartment, fresh life. Ugh, scratch that fresh apartment bit. A whiff of something foul hit me like a ton of bricks. Back where I used to live, there was this time of year when roadkill numbers escalated. I don't know why. Maybe it was woodland creature mating season and they forgot about self-preservation.

Maybe the hot sun of summer and the open road just got too. too tempting for some people to drive the speed limit. I really don't know. On this particular back road, it got really bad one year. There was a lump of fur and guts every quarter mile at least melting into the pavement. It's an overpowering smell, even with your windows rolled up and three different kinds of air freshener hanging from your mirror. Disturvingly sweet and sharp, and it clings to the back of your throat. That's what it's mostly. unlike now. I threw open my large windows, crinkling my nose and trying that to breathe too deeply. As fast as it had arrived, though, it was gone. I managed to get settled into my small

one-bedroom apartment with relative ease. Anna and I began to meet once or twice a week for breakfast and coffee in her cozy breakfast nook. The muffins were a bit of an unwanted expense, but it was just great to have a new friend, a smart, sweet, well-to-do friend with an amazing place. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't even a tiny bit jealous. Her life just seemed so put together. In that apartment? I didn't tell her, but I fell in love with it the moment I walked through the door. But my apartment did have a better view, which I guess gave me some satisfaction. City life took a little while to get used to. I managed to get a job at a nearby Mexican fast food place,

and it turns out I'm some sort of a savant at wrapping burritos. Figures that if I'm going to have a talent, it would be something like that. I could hear an almost constant stream of muffled talking and whispers from whom must have been the creep below me. I solved the problem with some heavy curtains and sleeping with my earbuds in. What was most annoying was the sickly sweet, ripe roadkill smell that would come and go. I kept my window firmly shut, coming to the conclusion that it was coming from outdoors. Didn't seem to really help, though.

I bet Anna's place doesn't have that smell, I grudgingly thought. I invested heavily in Fabriz. It took one week for things to take a nosedive after that. First, Blossom had gone missing, and I'm not sure how many of you were. or acquainted with fish, but they don't really run away from home very often. Needless to say, I was devastated. I racked my brain. Could one of the wall mice have gotten in? Do mice eat fish? I'd noticed that the crack in my bathroom mirror was gone, along with the squeaking of my door hinges. Had management sent someone to fix up my apartment while I was at work,

and had they done something to blossom? them? Seemed far-fetched, but they would be receiving a strongly worded email regardless. Coming into a tenant's apartment without prior notice is illegal as all get-out. Despite my angry email, Buttercup disappeared shortly thereafter. I panicked, thinking maybe I'd picked up a bobbett worm or something. I wasn't even sure they could live in freshwater tanks, but I moved bubbles to a smaller tank while I panicked and tried to figure out what to do. But the next day, she was gone too.

And my walls were painted with a fresh coat. And my oven opened all the way with no problems. And my shower head no longer stuttered. The laundry basket bounced off my hip as I absent-mindedly entered the laundry room. Was someone coming in at night and fixing my apartment and stealing my fish? The situation made no sense. Did I do something to them when I was sleeping? And those whispers.

I could hear them all the time. The earbuds didn't help anymore. I couldn't remember the last time that I'd really slept without tossing and turning and waking. They didn't sound angry. They sounded beckoning. Maybe I'm crazy. I mumbled and gave a miserable sobbing hiccup as I stuffed my clothes into the wash. I warned you.

The voice startled me from my wallowing. I turned sharply. You... He looked even worse than the last time I'd seen him. The bags under his eyes seemed to hang all the way to his cheeks. Stains on his clothes made me wonder how he even knew about the laundry room. I instinctually took a step back. He stepped forward, and the smell of whiskey was wafting off of him in heavy waves.

The other smell was back, too. Sharp and sweet. Making my head spin. I told you to leave. It's probably too late now. The regret that choked his voice sounded genuine, and it made my heart pound and my hackles rise. What are you talking about?

My throat was tight with fear. Go now. Go upstairs and pack your stuff. You seem nice, so get out of this building while you can. He grabbed my upper arm, and his icy fingers began pulling me after him. Stop, let go of me. In my head, my voice was strong and angry,

but it came out as barely more than a whisper. I pried at his fingers. Go, go now. No more. I can't take this anymore. The voice says, Tears fell from his eyes as he babbled. I found myself even more scared than I would have been had he been angry.

Please, please let me go. The man was clearly deranged. His grip tightened a bit and my arm was beginning to go numb. Go. No more. Ow! He was fully sobbing now. Was this how I died?

Who'd find my body? Anyone? Hey. A sharp voice cut through the air. Mark seemed to sober instantly. He thankfully released my arm and pushed me behind his bulky frame. Anna's smile looked predatory beneath the fluorescent lighting. Em? Come here.

She held at her hand. I actually hesitated. The tingling in my arm, as blood rushed back into it, was a reminder I needed to rush forward and take her hand. You're skating on top. The nice, Mark. Her voice was dark and dangerous. Her hand even colder than his.

No more. Please. No more. As we turned to leave, Mark collapsed on the linoleum floor. A large, sobbing, broken pile of a man. Sitting in Anna's kitchen, she handed me a steaming mug. Thank you. I wrapped my cold hands around the mug of coffee, hoping that the warmth of it would seep into me and stop my shivering.

I added a little something to warm you up. Anna took a seat across from me, sipping at her own. I took a long drink, the stinging taste of alcohol hitting me. She smiled widely. I probably need it. I took another long drink and enjoyed the flush it brought to my drink. cheeks. Why, why is he like that? I was really scared. Tears pricked at my eyes. Guilt over killing his wife has been eating away at him for years now. I felt my jaw drop.

What? Let me start at the beginning. Like I said, when I first moved in, it was me, my boyfriend, and my cat. All of that. that in a small and dirty one-bedroom isn't a great setup. My boyfriend hated that cat, especially her litter box, said it smelled like death. I wasn't very surprised when the cat went missing. I assumed that he had intentionally let her out. Still, I searched our small apartment, back to front and back again. Imagine my surprise when I found that it wasn't a one-bedroom, but there was another door.

And behind it, a small, clean, empty, windowless room. Anna pointed down the hall. The whisper seemed almost frantic. My boyfriend was ecstatic. Said he could put his office in there. Not sure what a construction worker needed with an office, but oh well. He pushed a desk in there and never used it anyway.

Said it gave him the creeps. Most people have that reaction about the same. building, you know. That's why there were so many empty apartments. Anna smiled and twirled her mug around the table. A nice and relaxing warmth had spread through my body and I sipped slowly. You lived in a one bedroom? Let me finish, Emily. Things were going well. Seth hadn't hit me in weeks. His mood was much improved by our new room discovery, the lack of my cat, and even complimented me on how nice and clean the place was looking. The honeymoon didn't last very long, though. Our next-door neighbor had a dog, yappy little thing.

Not to mention that we started hearing my cat again. Long moaning meows that seemed to be coming from inside the walls. Our neighbor, an elderly woman, and Seth were constantly pounding on the wall connecting our apartment and yelling at each other. It was awful. So I did what any loving girlfriend would do. I snuck into that old bitch's apartment and nab the dog. You stole the dog?

I slurred, my head feeling increasingly fuzzy. Sure did. I didn't know what to do with it, so I locked it in the office. Only took an hour for the thing to quiet down, and I forgot all about it. What happened after was quite amazing. The apartment literally sparkled. The floor shone. The bathroom even seemed a little bigger.

At this point, I had a working theory, of course. Who wouldn't? A manic smile stretched over Anna's mouth. The smell was back. I invited that hateful lady over for some tea. It was the least I could do since she was so distraught over her pup running away. She sat at my shabby kitchen table, boo-hooing into my chipped Garfield mug, and had the audacity to criticize me and my life as I tried to comfort her.

She should be thanking me, really. That was eight years ago. If I hadn't locked her in that office, she'd be dead. by now. Now she gets to live forever. What? My chest fell oddly heavy, and breathing was getting difficult. The next morning, her front door was gone, and I had two new rooms. The rest is history, of course. Seth had to go soon after. The apartment never liked him anyway. It quieted down a lot after he left. He didn't have any rooms, though, just made the

play Sparkle. It only adds rooms if I feed it the person currently living there. It took me forever to finish off this half of the second floor. Like I said, you have to be pretty thick not to feel the vibes given off by this place. Or maybe you just have to be desperate enough to ignore it. She looked me up and down. Mark? I slurred, my head walling back. I had to tell. I had to leave. I had to get out, but my vision was blackening around the edges and my arms wouldn't listen. That smell, that sick, sweet smell, was stuck in the back of my throat. Hmm, he caught on. No one else seemed to notice, strangely enough. He did, but we cut a deal. He wanted his wife out of the picture. It was easy. I wonder if his apartment also got nicer when I let her join

the building. Mayan sure did. I would have liked to keep you around for longer, but if Mark really managed to scare you away, who knows how long I would have to wait for a new tenant. And I really want that view. Anna stood. Her face was suddenly set and grim. Not a hair was out place as she pulled me out of the chair. I tried to struggle, but it was a pretty pathetic display. You know, yours will be the first apartment that I'll have taken from across the hall. I wonder if it'll give me a piece of the hallway, too. I'm very excited to see how it connects our places. Please, I think I mumbled as she dragged me across the polished floor by my arm. Don't worry. The rest don't sound unhappy.

Do they sound unhappy to you? And you get to live forever. The apartment seemed to scream in pain as the front door burst open, the wood splintering. No more, no more, no more. I can't take the voices no more. Mark stood with a hefty shotgun smoking in his beefy fists. His mantra echoed through my muddled brain. I warned you. I fucking warned you.

This place is my in now. It's my apartment. My building. My fucking view. Anna's voice was impossibly shrill. The whispers were no longer a tiny tickle in your ear, but instead an angry, oppressive scream. The rancid odor seemed to drip from. the walls. The windows rattled, the lights flickered. I want to say the walls warped inward. I wish I could say I saw what happened next, but I didn't. Instead, I blacked out. When I awoke, I was alone. No Mark, no Anna. No broken front door. No front door at all, actually.

No smell. No whispers. Now, there was a smell. but it was nice and refreshing. It smelled like home was always supposed to smell, sweet and sharp. But Anna was right, it did take a piece of the hall and connect our apartments. And I even got a small downstairs lounge. A smart-looking staircase sat where my kitchen used to be. I'm thinking about putting a pool table down there. Thanks, Mark.

It's a little small. though. I wonder if Mrs. Rainer likes tea. It's hard to imagine how difficult it must be to take emergency 911 calls for a living. As explained by author Matt Spire, when one dispatcher takes a strange call one night, it leaves him wondering just who it was he was speaking with and what the call really meant. Performing this tale are Jessica McAvoy and Peter Lewis. So let's listen in and try to figure out what happened when the dispatcher took a strange call. ...doly worked the morning shift for emergency dispatch in a very small rural county.

I'm new to the area and thus the job. Last week, my closest friend asked me to switch for one of his overnight shifts. I ended up taking a call which has left me entirely weirded out. weirded out. I've tried talking to my supervisors about it, but they've been very quiet about all of this. My friend claims that's not uncommon for any calls we get. I've been unable to shake it off, and in an attempt to figure out what really took place on that call, I managed to sneak out most of the recording of it. I'll play it for you now in hopes that it makes more sense to you than it does to me.

Okay, here it goes. I need help. I'm lost. I know where he is. Calm down. And just give me your... My name is Natalie. My dad, his name is Salvador.

And we're from Pennsylvania. We boarded a train at Union Station, Pittsburgh. Natalie, what's your emergency? Everything was okay. We were going to Cincinnati. I fell asleep, and I woke up at night. We were switching trains. Daddy was mad because he said we were in Detroit,

and that's nowhere near Cincinnati. But a man kept saying to sit down to wait, I was still tired Everyone was tired And laying down But I couldn't fall asleep Because it was so cold Natalie

Do you know where you are now The men They must have been worried about people being sick They kept going around with instruments And sticking them People's ears and mouths and I had little paper cups for everybody to drink out of. My dad was arguing with one of them when they got to me.

Natalie, do you know where... And they didn't explain what they were looking for, but it only took a second. When I went to drink out of the cup... Natalie? It was real bitter. But the train came, and the man had to hurry to finish so long.

she didn't notice me spit half it out. Do you have any symptoms? Do you feel like you might... It was so cold, and my teeth were chattering, crowded to get in, and so dark inside, but warm. Daddy picked me up. I were barely keeping my eyes open because it was so nice and warm, and I was tired. I remember somebody said, That's a nice name.

I'm Jasper. I was already half asleep. Okay, Natalie, are you still inside the train? I woke up in the middle of the night, thirsty. My throat was like caught in from that bitter stuff. I was in a really nice bed. I never had sheets like that before. There were a lot of doors trying to find the bathroom.

But the first one took me outside. Is that where you are now? It wasn't dark this time. It wasn't right. Much bigger than a train could be. It was huge, like, I've never been to one. I've seen pictures, though. How a ball would be, I guess.

There were tables of food on shiny metal trays, and so many people. Everyone dressed in dresses like shimmery with veils. I was feeling the food, I realized how hungry I was. I went to the table and picked up some stick with fruit and cheese, and there was the voice again. That's good, it said. I'm glad you're feeling better, Natalie.

I looked up and said, a lady in a long black dress and I dropped the food because she wasn't using her mouth to talk. She just stared at me. Such a pretty name, she said. Natalie, I need to know where you are. I looked around and saw everyone was like that, talking without their mouths. All for laughing, so many voices, but they just stared out. blank faces. A man with a white flower in his suit pocket.

He looked at me, and I heard someone say, I have all the time in the world, Natalie. Do you know any of these people at all? At the bar, I saw my dad. I ran over, and he put his drink down. Just turned to me on the stool. Don't worry, he said. You're safe here, Natalie.

but he didn't move his mouth either and I started crying the man behind the counter was staring at me and I couldn't even tell who was talking to me but someone said Natalie's such a pretty name I ran back to our room and hit under my covers cry until I heard all over

I thought someone would come in but no one ever did I just kept crying until I woke up, and I realized the whole thing was a dream. Except it wasn't nice. I was in a bunk with hard sheets, and it smelled really bad, like sweat and pee. I just sat there, scared to feel for anything in the dark. And I heard voices, voices from outside, and I heard a scraping sound.

They were opening up the train again. It was still really dark, but I could see people started coming in. I don't know why. I was just so scared of being in there. I jumped out and pushed through the people and ran as hard as I could out of the station. People were yelling behind me, but I didn't stop until I was near the edge of the forest. I just ran. My daddy was still there, but when I was still there, but when I was yelling behind me, but I didn't stop until I didn't stop until I didn't stop until I was near the edge of the forest. My, I, I just ran.

I turned, I didn't see him. Just other people yelling and running towards me. Natalie, can you hear me? I just, until my legs burned and my arms were all scraped up. I fell asleep again in the middle of the forest, freezing, and I realized I was dreaming, but I was still right there in the forest, just like when I was on the train. I got off the moss under me and started following it It just kept calling me Natalie Until I found this big hole in the ground Nothing down there but dirt and leaves and a girl

Eight years old, I guess I'm down here Natalie But her mouth didn't move Where are you calling? It doesn't matter where I sleep. I always dream I'm right where I am. And there's someone calling me into some hole in the ground or some dark closet. They always say such a pretty name, or I have all the time in the world, Natalie.

I don't know where I am. two days something. And then I found this town, but no one's here. Not for a long time. Even the grocery store, all the fruit and vegetables aren't just rotted. They're dirt. There's some dog and cat bones, but not many. No people don't either.

I'm recording. I miss my name. Daddy so much. I try to find the train station, but I get lost in the forest and have to come back. There's no one here, but me and Jasper. Daddy, it's him in my dreams, telling me to crawl down the storm drain, but it's not Daddy, it's Jasper. His face doesn't move. Okay, Natalie, I need you to describe what you're looking. all a different city every night, but... We thank you for being with us for our devilishly dark tales.

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