The NoSleep Podcast - NoSleep Podcast S7E08

Episode Date: May 29, 2016

It's episode 8 of Season 7. On this week's show we have five tales about sinister savages stalking in stealth."How Did I Ever Get Into This Mess?" written by Malcom Teller and performed by Alexis Bristowe & Dan Zappulla. (Story starts at 00:02:20)"Dark Circles in the Ocean" written by Elias Witherow and performed by Jeff Clement. (Story starts at 00:22:40)"Murder in Apartment 308" written by Emma Smith and performed by Rima Chaddha Mycynek. (Story starts at 00:38:35)"Down in the Library Basement"* written by Rona Vaselaar and performed by Jessica McEvoy & Nikolle Doolin & Erika Sanderson & Dan Zappulla. (Story starts at 00:58:10)"Long Haul"** written by Dustin Chisam and performed by Mike DelGaudio & Dan Zappulla & Kyle Akers & Corinne Sanders. (Story starts at 01:31:35)Click here to learn more about the voice actors on The NoSleep Podcast Click here to learn more about Malcom Teller Click here to learn more about Elias Witherow Click here to learn more about Rona Vaselaar Executive Producer & Host: David CummingsMusical score composed by: Brandon Boone Additional music by Phil Michalski Audio adaptations produced by: David Cummings & Jeff Clement* & Phil Michalski**"Down in the Library Basement" illustration courtesy of Charlie CodyAudio program ©2016 - Creative Reason Media Inc. - All Rights Reserved - No reproduction or use of this content is permitted without the express written consent of Creative Reason Media Inc.. The copyrights for each story are held by the respective authors.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Be forewarned, 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. Season 7, episode 8. How did I ever get into this mess? Dark circles in the ocean. Murder in apartment 308.

down in the library basement, long haul. It's the No Sleep Podcast. I'm David Cummings. Thanks for joining us. On this week's show, we have five tales about sinister savages stalking in stealth. Since most of our listeners are from America, that means many of you are at this very moment,

enjoying your holiday long weekend. Perhaps you're out camping, sitting around the campfire, listening to our creepy tales. But don't worry, I'm quite certain you're not in any danger. Don't be afraid of those strange noises coming from the dark, just beyond the light of the fire. What was that?

No, just me testing out some new sound effects. Relax. Who's that? Oh, no one. You're just hearing things. What the... Oh, come on, that's just your friend handing you a... a beer. Calm down, will you? Don't let my silly noises bother you. So, no matter where you are at the

moment, camping, relaxing at home, or planning on setting off an arsenal of fireworks, we hope you have a safe, enjoyable, and thoroughly terrifying time. And with that, we'll start the show. In our first tale, we meet a woman who is going to college and trying to figure out the social scene. As explained by author Malcolm Teller, the woman hasn't had much luck making friends or dating, but when she meets a classmate who catches her eye, she just may have found Mr. Wright. Performing this tale are Alexis Bristow and Dan Zabula.

So let's join her in the midst of a rather serious problem. You see, the question racing through her mind at the moment is, How did I ever get into this mess? I'm in the biggest fucking jam ever. This is it. It's over. It's all over, and I'm going away forever, and I don't even know how the fuck I even got into this goddamn mess.

Oh, God, I'm hyperventilating now. Maybe I should just start from the beginning. I'm a college student at an East Coast University, right? I'd rather not say which one, but it's old, very rich, and very prestigious. I'm not very popular, but I am a good person, more or less. I tried to join a sorority, but dropped out of the process when I realized that all the girls in it were bitches. Anyway, I started this school last year, 2015. It was such an achievement.

My entire family was so proud of me. I had made it in on an athletic scholarship. Can you believe that? I got onto campus, and it was everything I had hoped it would be. Huge, vibrant, alive, just brimming with potential for limitless possibilities. I was at home. I said I'm not that popular. Unfortunately, this extends to the romance department.

I remember all the way back through middle school and then high school, wanting to know what it'd be like to have a boyfriend or even a girlfriend. I was unsure about what I wanted when I was 15, you know, just to feel loved and wanted. To have someone care for and about you and be willing to be there for you and protect you and see you through life and all. It never happened. It never fucking happened, but it certainly happened for all the bullies and mean-spirited horrible people that never did a single thing in the world

to deserve the good things they had. This also extended to sex. For fuck's sake, I even watched a bunch of porn just to know what guys want and like so I could have some success in that area. No luck, crazily enough. Turns out guys aren't horny sex monsters.

At least 17-year-olds weren't. Maybe college guys were different, who knows? I tried to socialize a ton. I went to parties, didn't have much fun, I don't like to get drunk, and the people bored me. But I tried. I also tried the sorority route, but I already said how that turned out. But yeah, I tried to make friends, and I even read tips on the internet on how to be less socially awkward, but nothing really helped. Nobody really reciprocated my social attempts. What can I say? People are bastards.

So I dove into my studies. I was there to get an education, and that's what I was going to focus on. And on the first day of my history of modern Europe class, the first fucking day, I saw him. Right now I still remember his face, and how beautiful it was. And tears are coming to my eyes because I never meant for any of this to happen. He had sandy, messy blonde hair. He was slim, with skin that was just so ever slightly tanned. His eyes were a misty gray and his smile.

His smile could make you melt inside. In class, he always said, not just the smartest things, but like the wisest things. Things that could make you really think. It was two weeks before I got the best. the courage to approach him. I made a point to sit next to him in class. He didn't notice me for the entire class. That was all right. Just sitting next to him was enough. The next week he did, though. He smiled that warm, soft smile. I don't think we've met. I'm Stephen. What's your name? I smiled back, blushing. I'm Megan. He cracked a grin and chuckled.

Well, it's great to meet you, Megan. Good luck on the in-class quiz we're about to get. We both laughed at that. The quiz went fine, by the way. And we just became a thing. Not a romantic thing, unfortunately, but we got close and got to know each other really well. We'd go to class together, get out of class together, and grab food from the local campus diner when not in class.

He'd tell me all about his plans for the future, his hopes and dreams. He felt he could confide in me. You have no idea what that felt like. After having everyone think you weren't worth shit, for me to finally be getting what I knew deep down I deserved. Oh, God. He wanted to someday become a senator from Michigan, his home state. He was passionate about all the right issues, women's rights.

anti-racism, LGBT rights, and more. He gets so fired up talking about all this stuff. It was so attractive. Then he talked about his family life. He had three siblings, two younger brothers and a younger sister, who was the baby of the family. He cared about his family more than anything. He really felt that family was the most important thing

and above and before everyone else. And as someone who wanted to be a wife and mother, someday. That was music to my ears. So it went on like that. And my heart, it just kept burning for him, right? But I couldn't marshal up the courage to tell him how I felt. I didn't know how. Every night in bed, I'd think about him. Every night as I slept, I'd dream about him. I mean, it wasn't anything weird. Yeah, I wrote a few poems, a few romance stories, drew a few pictures, but that's just normal heart stuff, you know?

So it went on like that for a few months. Going to class, going to lunch, watching movies, whatever. We were basically dating. Basically an item. He didn't see it that way, but that's just because he was lying to himself. And it got to the point where I, well, I wanted more. I wanted more but didn't know how to make my intentions clear. So I kind of decided to snoop around, solely with innocent intent.

The first was me just kind of following him as he went about his day on the days we didn't hang out. I even got some pictures of those little following sessions. I made sure to collect those photos in a set of binders, which I maintained and stored very carefully. They were kind of important to me as all. Life went on as usual. I made good grades, passed all of my courses, and me and Stephen passed into the second semester of our university careers. By this point, I had a good idea of his daily routines and the people he usually associated with on the days we weren't together. Anyway, April rolls around, and I finally decide that I need to tell Stephen how I feel about him.

I need to just open up to him so that he'll see how deeply I loved him. And then he can tell me that he feels the same way about me. It'd be perfect. I invited him over to my apartment so we could catch Chung King Express. He got there around six in the evening, and we got popcorn out and started watching the movie. I cuddled up close to him, and he didn't stop me. It was great. Halfway through, he told me he had to go to the bathroom, and he got up and went.

I kept watching the movie, but five minutes, and eight minutes, the ten minutes he didn't come back I finally got up and went to see why he was taking so long the bathroom door was ajar but he wasn't in it then I noticed that from the door to the bathroom was a direct line of sight into my bedroom and to my walk-in closet

where the door was a jar too now I need to give some background before I explain the next part I'd collected a decent amount of photos, written profiles of the people Stephen associated with on his daily routine, and also the collection of poems and stories and drawings I'd produced about us. So I basically put together a display consisting of a bunch of it. Nothing weird, just a piece of romantic art, you know? It was kind of big, sure, but still, nothing major or... out of the ordinary.

So my heart started beating really hard and fast because I didn't know what Stephen would be thinking. I got so anxious. My heart racing because me telling Stephen how I felt about it had to be controlled. It had to be. And if it wasn't, he might reject me. And I couldn't take that. I couldn't take that. take that

I didn't know what I'd do if that happened I don't even know if I could live I walked quickly into the closet and he was standing over the desk part of the display looking down at the photos I'd taken of him on the days that I'd followed him his back was facing me my heart got stuck in my throat

and I opened my mouth to say something but nothing came out what could I say to fix this there had it to be something I could say that would fix this. He must have noticed me staring at him, so he turned around to look at me, two photographs in his hand. They were of him in his apartment on his couch, on the phone. They had been taken from a bush from across the street of his apartment. The look he gave me.

God, it was a look of disgust. like I was some sort of freak How could he look at me like that After everything we'd been through He stared at me for a long set of moments A set of moments that felt like an eternity And then he spoke What the fuck

It was a flat tone But filled with the curiosity of a question He said it like it was all he could muster Stephen, let me explain. My voice was weak, small. He was still looking at me like a freak. Why couldn't he see that all of this, the displays, the pictures, the poems, drawings, the files I'd kept on him, that all of it meant that I loved him, that he'd be lucky to have a girl that loved him as half as much as I did.

No, no, I don't care. He looked down at the photos, and then at me, then paced back and forth before turning to look at me again. Do you have any idea how weird and creepy this is? I backed up instinctively, my heart pounding. He never yelled at me. I never could have imagined him yelling at me. Tears started to fill my eyes. This wasn't happening.

No, no, this is all wrong. This couldn't be happening like this. This was a bad dream. I was going to wake up, and then I would tell Stephen how I really felt at school, and he'd tell me that he felt the same way, and then we'd be a thing officially, and then, and then, Stephen, I love you. My voice had emotion in it. I had to make him understand that this was coming from my heart.

That this was what I really meant. This isn't love. This is obsession. It's disgusting. And it's dangerous. He paused, as if trying to search his mind for more things to say, until he finally sighed and kept speaking. His voice, sad and broken,

as he dropped the photos he was holding to the ground. Don't talk to me. Don't come near me ever again. If you do, I'll get the police involved. He looked at me some more. His eyes sad now. Still filled with disgust. And then, just as my heart was breaking, as tears were just gushing down my cheeks, he said, the most awful, horrible thing.

The thing that made me so furious that started the whole thing that led me to where I am now. He said it with his voice full of sadness and resignation. A part of me really thought that you were someone a person could have a life with. Just like that, my broken heart turned to a furious one. My heartbreak turned to rage. What? Like I wasn't a person he could have a life with? I gave everything I had to this man.

I poured my heart out to him and our life together, and this... This is how he repays me? This is how he reciprocates my love. Hey! Anger twisted into my voice and into my face. I was going to tell him like it was. I was going to make him understand that I loved him, and that deep down, he knew he loved me,

and that we were destined to be together. It was fate. But as I yelled out, he was already walking out of the closet. He didn't react to my shout. He was ignoring me now? What did I ever do to deserve that? I'm fucking talking to you! As he started to walk past me, I grabbed his arm as hard as I could.

Get your fucking hands off me! Something in him snapped, and all in one motion he shoved me, hard against the wall. My back slammed into the wall. the shudder of the impact just rippling through my body. That did it. That fucking did it. I was going to make him see reason, no matter what it took. In one fluid motion, I was on him.

One hand on his throat, the other was gripping the front of his shirt in my fist. He immediately started to try and shake me off, but it wasn't working. It must have been the adrenaline because I had way more strength than I'd ever had before. I squeezed his throat hard, and he tried to say something, but all he could get out were scratchy gasps. I love you. Why can't you see that? Before I knew it, we were both twirling around in the closet, smashing into the walls, and then... Then it happened. I must have moved my leg somewhere relative to his, and he tripped.

Thing is, because my hand was on his throat, and more importantly, the other hand was gripping his shirt. I fell with him. I fell on top of him as he fell, as he fell, and hit the floor with his head. His head slamming onto the floor with a loud, dull smack. I knew something was wrong when he immediately went still. I stopped everything I was doing and pushed myself up and looked down. His eyes were open with this glassy, vacant, dead look.

Then, at that moment, I noticed a widening pool of blood, centered right beneath his head. My heart started beating like a machine gun and everything started to sink in. My God, how could this have happened? How could I have done this? I loved him. He was my soulmate. We were going to be together forever. How could this have happened?

I scrambled off of him in a panic, rapidly backing up against the wall of the closet. My arms wrapped around my folded up legs, tears of horror and grief running down my face. I watched his dead body just lie there. I cried. I sobbed my heart out for what I had lost, for what we had lost. I knew near the end of my sobbing that it was his fault. He just couldn't see reason. He just couldn't understand what he had in me.

But the police won't see it that way. I know they won't. They'll see me as some dangerous obsessive. When that's not what I was or what I am at all. I'm just someone who's never had anybody and who found someone amazing, a one in a million, once in a lifetime catch, and tried to get him to see things the way I saw. But they won't see it that way.

God. Stephen, why did you have to cause everything to happen this way? Why wouldn't you just listen? For most people, a trip to the ocean shore is a time to relax and enjoy the majesty of the sea. But as author Elias Withero shares with us, a writer who buys his dream cottage by the shore soon discovers that the water holds more

than just the peaceful waves which roll up rhythmically. Performing this tale is Jeff Clement. So as the water rolls over your sandy toes on the beach, keep your eyes out on the water. You may discover there are, There are dark circles in the ocean. It started three months ago, the dark spots in the water. I'm residing at my seaside cottage, my own personal getaway that I purchased three years ago.

The back deck looks out onto the sound along the shore of the outer banks in North Carolina. It's always been one of my favorite vacation locations. And when I published my third book last year, the royalties allowed me to buy this cottage. I don't have any neighbors. I specifically wanted it that way. I planned to write my fourth book here and wanted to ensure peace and quiet while I worked away at it.

There's a little pier that stretches out into the sound from beneath my deck. The sound of the water gently slapping against the wood stimulates my creative mind like nothing else can. I was sitting on the dock

a couple of days ago When I noticed it for the first time, the dark spots in the water. They were circular and about four feet in circumference. I counted four of them, about 20 feet from where I stood at the end of the pier. The sun was setting, strips of blank cloud covered by scars of brilliant soft orange. The water caught the light and made it sparkle. a twinkling of stars on the gentle surface. Except for the circles of black.

Those patches seemed to absorb the light, sucking it down into itself. It was curious, and I speculated that maybe the water was just deeper in those spots. I sit my glass of water at the end of the pier, the ice clinking against the rim like muffled bells. I didn't know what to make of my design. discovery. Instead of dwelling on it longer, I went inside, determined to finish another page of my book before I went to bed.

Outside, the water filled with two more dark spots. The next day, the sky filled with angry storm clouds, and I sat by the big bay window, clacking away at my keyboard as the rain crashed into the ocean before me. Most people don't like rainy days, but as a writer I feel they're my most productive. The cozy atmosphere, the steady pitter-patter of rain, the rolling thunder, all these things spark my creativity, and the words just come pouring out, like water from the clouds above. I was watching the waves, circling the next scene of my book, then thinking, when I spotted the dark circles again. one of them was right at the end of the pier another five spread around it i idly tapped my finger against my desk

watching them they had moved since yesterday i discarded my theory of depth change and instead wondered if it was a school of fish it didn't explain the way they sucked in the light but i wasn't an expert of the ocean and its many workings i stood up up, allowing myself a brief break from my work and went to the door. I opened it, the overhang shielding me from the rain, and breathed in the wet air. The air was fresh, smelling of new rain and ocean salt. I'd breathed it in, and then winced, the wind suddenly carrying a new odor, something foul and sharp, burning my nose with its repulsive errone. I covered my face with a hand trying not to gag.

It was sharp like vinegar almost, and I felt my eyes water. I slammed the door closed and retreated back inside. I went to my desk and took my seat, wiping the remains of the smell from my nose. I looked out into the water. The dark patches of water had moved closer to the house. I couldn't sleep. I had awoken only an hour after going to bed and couldn't wheel my mind back into sweet slumber. I went to my back deck and stood in the darkness, watching the water, letting the repetitive lapping of waves slow my mind. It was something I had done before when I couldn't

sleep, my mind still buzzing with ideas and worries. The wind whipped my wind whipped my hair across my face, a warm breeze filled with ocean scents. The moon spilled its white light onto the water and lit the tiny peaks of rolling waves. I listened to them smack against the pier before me and breathed in the atmosphere. And that's when I heard humming. At first I thought it was just the wind, but as I trained my ears, I realized it was coming from the water. It was soft, but there is a definite melody to the low rise of deep vocals. It almost sounded like chanting. My eyes settled over the dark patches of water.

I hadn't even noticed them there in the night, but when I actually looked, I could see the light of the moon around the edge of their murky perimeter, but no light filled the center. center. Instead, it remained as black as the deepest corners of space, and the humming was definitely coming from the ebony patches of still water. Something about the ominous sound chilled me to the bone, a slow sad tune that carried in the wind with haunting purpose. It raised the hair on the back of my neck, and I leaned down over the railing to get a better look. The circles were close to the wooden edge of my house, where the water met a wall just below my deck.

The pier stretched out from that wall, resting on the surface of the sound like a red carpet. I took the steps down my porch and walked under the deck to the pier. My bare feet padded across the wood and the sound of the humming became more pronounced. I looked to my right and saw a few of the circles slowly moving back and forth, like they were being carried on the tide. What the hell, I thought, staring out. And that's when something stirred the surface of the water. It came with a sudden splash and a slice of white froth.

In the center of each of the circles, something emerged for a split second. It was so sudden and the darkness so deep that I couldn't see what it was, but it scared me half to death. It had all happened seamlessly and in sync. At the exact same moment, they all had mirrored the exact same action. I didn't know what it meant, didn't know if I was dealing with animals or nature, but I knew I was suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.

I raced back to the death. my ears filling with the strange sad humming. As I was about to get back inside, I was slammed with the awful stench again. I wretched as the wind carried it down my throat and felt my eyes tear up. I grabbed the door and pulled it open, desperate to get away from the horrific smell. I stumbled inside and slammed the door shut. I stood against it, breathing heavily. And then I heard something heavy thunk onto the pier outside.

It came in a rush of water and weight, a loud exclamation in the night. Eyes widening, I turned to look out the sliding glass door. In the moonlight, I saw the source of the dark circles. It stemmed from a huge conch shell, the walls of the walls of the dark circles. shell, the walls of its circling spiral so dark it made the night glow around it. Worming out of the opening was a long coil of pink flesh shining with dripping water. It was thick and oozing like an infected tongue, and at the end of its two-foot span was the torso of a person.

It grew out of the pulsing, shimmering muscle, and its face was bloated and waterlogged. Its eyes were black, and a smile ripped up its face like a deep gash in its noseless face. It was humming. The notes carried in the night and filled me with crippling dread. It was a song of death, a prelude to carnage. It pulled itself along the pier towards my house on the long, fingerless slabs of squirming flesh. They smacked wetly along the wood as it dragged its huge shell behind it. The grating sound screeching in my ears.

Even from behind the door, I could smell the creature. It was the same awful reeking plague I had smelled earlier. As I watched in horror, another one pulled itself out of the water, humming and grinning, hoisting its giant shell out of the water like a hull of a ship. Water spilled over the pier in great waves as it followed the first one. The humming continued, gaining in volume, and I suddenly was overcome with an urge to just stand and listen. The notes churned my stomach, but I had an unexplainable urge to wait for the creatures to reach me. Suddenly, the horror of the situation crashed down around me like a wave at high tide. I snapped out of my trance and slammed my hands over my ears.

I couldn't let them get to me. I had to get away. If they reached me, I knew I wouldn't be alive come morning. I didn't know what these things were, what they wanted, but terror rose like bile in my throat. I grabbed my car keys as another one pulled itself up the barrier beneath my house. I could hear it flopping onto the strip of sand beneath my deck, and I knew I didn't have long. I practically kicked my front door open and raced to the car. I jammed the key into the lock and twisted throwing the door open.

I heard something crash from inside and realized that the first one had just broken in. The thought of the monster pulling itself through my house sent a bolt of adrenaline coursing through me. I dove into the car and started it, slamming the gears into reverse. I turned on my headlights, and my heart thundered in my chest. Was in the open doorway. its worm-like arms sliding along its frame. It was grinning at hum. For a split second, I almost pulled back into the driveway,

but the fresh adrenaline was enough to force reason upon my confused mind. I gunned the engine and raced toward town. To this day, I have no idea what those things were. I told the police and local wildlife, rangers about my experience, but they don't believe me. To them, I'm just a new resident, unused to the ways of the ocean. I put the house up for sale and haven't returned to it since. I don't dare. I tried talking to the local fishermen about the dark circles in the water, but they cut me off as soon as I mentioned them. They told me I shouldn't talk about such things, hushing me with a

quick wave of their hand. They get a look in their eye that scares me, but also tells me I'm not insane. I don't know what I've witnessed, what those creatures were, or what they wanted. Just thinking about it terrifies me. I know one thing, though, I'm never going near the ocean again. Something tells me I'd hear humming. Something tells me those creatures would return to catch the one that got away. When moving into a new house, you were supposed to be made aware about anything bad which may have happened there. But what about apartments? Well, author Emma Smith tells us that moving into a new apartment means you don't get told about its past tense.

And for one woman and her boyfriend, that leads to a series of deeply unsettling events. Performing this tale is Rima Chathamysic. So if a new apartment is in your future, make sure you ask about its past, you may want to know about things like the murder in Apartment 308. After a year of living in different states for separate jobs after college, I was finally able to move back in with my long-time boyfriend. I had found a job near his new apartment and had a total of three days to move my things from a suburban town in southern Massachusetts to a town just outside of Portsmouth, New Hampshire.

Excited to be out of my parents' domain and back in a more independent environment, I did the entire move in less than 12 hours. Thinking I would be busy moving and putting the final touches on our new shared living space, my boyfriend had scheduled himself to work over the next three days. At the time, he worked four days a week until midnight, leaving me on my own for most of the night. This didn't bother me, as I had just unpacked my Xbox with a brand-new copy of a first-person shooter released by a franchise I had yet to grow tired of. My plan was to relax for the precious few remaining days until my new job began.

During the first night in the new place, I was playing with some online friends while wearing a pair of those obnoxiously large noise-canceling gaming headphones and enjoying the Nazi zombie carnage. We were about to start our third match when I thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye. Since my boyfriend's Xbox was set up in the living room on our larger TV, I'd placed my own system in the bedroom on our smaller TV and angled it just to afford a view of the main entrance and the kitchen of our smallish apartment. The one area I could not see was the small living room housing my boyfriend's TV and Xbox. Deciding I imagined the movement, I returned to my friends who are already expressing how they were going to make the opposite team do sexual acts with themselves, and other obscenities.

After a couple more matches and many spoken, crude acts against mothers and future offspring, I said goodbye to my friends and signed off. I pulled my headphones off and rub my numb ears, momentarily adjusting to the silent apartment. I tend to get a little spooked when by myself, especially in an unfamiliar space. Without having the constant stream of auditory and visual stimulation, I decided to just get ready for bed and read for a bit before my boyfriend was due home from work around midnight. I just settled down with my book when I registered. stirred another movement to my left.

I whip my head toward our bedroom door, already trying to convince myself that I was imagining things. Sometimes my eyes seemed to play tricks on me after staring, unblinking at the TV for prolonged periods of gaming. Blearily, I stared out into the dimly lit apartment outside the sanctity of my bedroom and looked for any sign of movement I imagined I'd seen just moments earlier.

Minutes went by without anything happening, so I gave up and returned to my book. It didn't take long for my eyelids to start to droop, so I figured it was time to try and sleep. My boyfriend had texted me a few minutes earlier and let me know that he was going to be a little later than he thought and asked if I was doing all right in the new place. Told him that I was fine, but that I was ready for him to be home.

After spending a year apart and only seeing each other every couple of weekends, I was ready to start making up for lost time. After he replied with a similar desire, I set my phone and booked down on the nightstand next to me, smiled to myself, and reached to turn off the light. I'd barely settled my head against the pillow when I heard a coughing sound coming from the main room of the apartment. I froze, and my stomach clenched in terror. Did it really come from inside the same apartment? I had already experienced just how thin the walls were separating our unit from the next. Maybe I had heard it wrong, and it was just my flemy next-door neighbor getting over a cold. Deciding on the ladder, I turned toward the wall opposite the bedroom door, and in a very

dignified fashion, hid under the covers until morning. The next morning, my boyfriend and I had a relaxing breakfast and went grocery shopping before he had to leave for work in the afternoon. I had decided not to tell him about my very sleepless night before, thinking he would make fun of me for being such a scaredy cat. By the time he had walked out the door, I decided that I was being stupid. Of course, I would be a little skittish in a new, unfamiliar place. The building was a massive old mill that had been converted into an apartment complex with a river that ran beneath it. Our apartment was one of the units that faced the inner part of the structure overlooking the river before it reached the waterfall further downstream. With the windows open during the warmer months,

The roar of the quick-moving river was constant, and I attributed that to the eerie noise I had heard the previous night. I was determined that I would be perfectly fine on my second night alone. Soon my stomach was growling, and I made my way into the kitchen to hopefully throw together some sort of meal for my dinner. After much deliberation, I decided on a packet of spicy, chili ramen. Feeling I needed a little extra sustenance, I cracked an egg into the boiling concoction, and checked on the time. I figured I had a little extra time to kill before I was due back online

when I heard a sound from behind me. Before I could even turn away from the stove, I heard a wheezing cough next to my left ear, feeling its hot breath against my neck. I jerked away so violently, I smacked the wall directly next to the stove. I had moved so suddenly I upset the pan of scalding hot noodle and egg,

knocking it off the burner and onto the floor. momentarily forgetting the actual terrifying instant that caused me to kill my dinner, I swore loudly. As I glared at the steaming linoleum floor, my overzealous use at profanity earned me a bang on the wall from my neighbor. After promptly giving my wall the finger, still roiling in frustration over losing my food, I grabbed the paper towel roll from the rack above the microwave and started to clean up my mess. It was only as the last paper towel full of noodle and egg had been thrown into the trash that I was reminded of the sound and the feel of the breath on my neck seconds before. I froze, my right arm in mid-reach for the soapy paper towel I was going to use to finish

cleaning the floor. As if on cue, there was another raspy cough from the living room. Now that full-blown terror had set in and my hunger forgotten, I wanted out of that apart more than anything. I whipped around and put my back up against the kitchen wall, facing the entry into the main part of the apartment. I stood there for a while, barely breathing, trying to pick up on any sound over the distant roar of the river.

After making up my mind to move, I sprinted out of the kitchen and into the living room. My hand had just settled onto my purse when I spotted the unnaturally dark corner of the living room just opposite. me. The room suddenly got oppressively hot, making it difficult to breathe. Before I allowed myself the time to give in to the panic attack, quickly crawling its way up my throat, I grabbed my purse, cell phone, and shoes, and slammed the door on my way out into the hallway. I almost plowed

over my neighbor in the process. I apologized to him loudly over my shoulder, knowing that I must have looked crazed as I barely restrained myself from sprinting down the hall. I didn't care. I was on my way to Target to escape the potentially haunted new apartment while spending an excessive amount of pre-job savings. Two hours, seven seasonally decorated non-essential knick-knacks, four nightlights, and 32 ounces of flavored energy drink later. I made my way back to the apartment. I plugged a nightlight into each available electric socket, sat and organized my new knick-knacks, made myself another batch of fancy chicken ramen and sat down in the bedroom to fire up the Xbox.

I had barely finished my second game of energy-fueled zombie killing when I heard a bang coming from the living room. This time, I was sure I had actually heard the noise. Since I'd been playing solo on Xbox, I didn't need the obnoxious noise-canceling headphones. Pausing the game, I ventured out of the bedroom looking for the source of the noise. With most of the lights on in the apartment, I spotted the fallen candle quickly enough. I picked it off the floor and placed it back on the computer desk, where I had placed it less than two hours before. As I stood trying to figure out how it could have fallen, I heard the floor creak behind me. My stomach clenched again, and I felt a wave of nausea hit me as the wheezing started.

It was as if someone was gasping for air and couldn't exist. hail properly. The air in the room suddenly got hot and stuffy like before, and I couldn't move. The chill ran down the entire length of my body as I stared at the computer monitor sitting on the desk in front of me. In the reflection on the screen, I could clearly make out the shadowed shape of a human form standing behind me. Deciding it was way less terrifying to see something head-on rather than its shadowy reflection, I whipped around, ridiculously swinging my arms like a windmill, because nothing scares a dead entity, more than an idiot swinging her arms around like a lunatic. There was nothing there.

What the hell? Am I going crazy? I gazed at the now empty 32-ounceers sitting on the kitchen table next to my purse. Do I need to lay off the energy drinks? I probably still had copious amounts of caffeine pumping through me, combined with the non-stop video games for the past couple of days. I grabbed the styrofoam cup and hurled it into the trash in the kitchen and resumed my gaming with my headphones on until my boyfriend got home around one.

The next day, I was exhausted. I was barely able to get out of bed before my boyfriend left for work in the afternoon. I had spent the previous night staring at the wall opposite the bedraud. door, refusing to move my eyes from a fixed spot to the right of the window in front of me. If I wavered, even just a little, I could glimpse the shadowy figure standing at the foot of my bed through the reflection of my TV. The nightlight that I had plugged in by the bedroom door cast an eerie glow throughout the room, enabling me to see the figure. My muscles ached, and my eyes hurt from staring the whole night. I hadn't even moved when my boyfriend came

into the room, terrified that if I turned toward his side of the bed, I'd be looking straight at the shadowy figure. One more night. I had one more night home alone before my boyfriend would have a few days off. Then I could sleep. Work started the next day, and I needed to sleep more than a couple of hours. I stayed in bed the rest of the day until my stomach began to demand food. So I got up just long enough to fill my stomach with a half-cooked veggie burger and turn on Netflix to zone out for a few more hours. I must have drifted off to sleep, not long after. Suddenly, a strap of stiff material was slipped over my head and tightened around my neck, instantly cutting off the air to my lungs. I panicked and started clawing at my throat, trying to release whatever it was wrapped around me so tight I couldn't fit my fingers between it

the skin of my neck. Even in my panic, I could feel myself scratching away at the thin layers of skin around my throat, trying in vain to catch a gap of material in order to pull it off or at least release some of its pressure. I was gasping for air, trying to pull in any sort of life-saving oxygen. I could feel my eyes bulging out of my skull, tears making my vision blurry. While all of this was happening, I watched, helpless, as the shadowy figure crawled from the foot of my bed until its face was inches from my own. The dark, featureless face breathed on me as it stared right into my bloodshot eyes, witnessing my terrifying demise. I was losing strength in my fingers, and with the decreased oxygen, they started to cramp and go into a rigor-like state,

gripping the strap that was slowly strangling me to death. The end of the end of the end. The edges of my vision were starting to go dark when there was a sudden flood of light coming into the apartment. My boyfriend was home. I gasped, making a horrible raspy noise that caused him to come running into the room. He must have been able to see the shadowy figure on top of me because he froze as soon as he entered the room. For reasons I still cannot fathom today, whatever had wrapped itself around my neck suddenly released itself from me. I gagged on the rush of fresh oxygen, gulping it by the mouthful. My boyfriend was yelling at me, trying to figure out what was going on,

but I couldn't hear him over the ringing of my ears. As soon as I was able, I grabbed him by the arm and stumbled out of the apartment into the safety of the bright overhead lights of the hallway. I collapsed as soon as I reached the other side of the hall and sat with my back up against the wall, facing my apartment, just in time to see my boyfriend closing the door on the shadowy figure still standing at the foot of our bed. The next day, I delayed the start of my new job, and my boyfriend and I moved to another unit in the same apartment complex. When we had tried to break our lease with the building manager,

we were offered a larger unit on the top floor on the other side of the river at a serious bargain. Between needing a place as quick as possible and not wanting to pay a massive fee for breaking the lease, we took them up on their offer. As we were signing our paperwork, our landlord kept staring at my neck. I had a massive bruise covering most of the skin from just below my chin down to my collarbone. Unfortunately, the scarf that I had chosen to hide the purpling mass was not doing a great job. She gave me a terrified look when I asked her what had happened to the previous tenants of our unit. After a little prodding, the manager gave in and told us about the murder in Apartment 308.

On October 9, 2012, a college student had gone back to the apartment of a man and woman she had met at a local bar. Lured to the couple's home on the pretense of the night of sexual exploration, the evening had taken a deadly turn with a mysterious murder and the body of the girl missing. With the testimony from an observant neighbor, the couple was caught and tried. The girlfriend had eventually flipped on the man, telling the jury that he had forced her to participate in the act that eventually led to the death of the 22-year-old college student. He had strangled her to death with a belt. Days later, I was lying in bed, thinking things over, absently avoiding sleep when the old apartment crossed my mind.

I was just wondering if they had filled the vacancy when the night was shattered by an ear-piercing scream over the roar of the river coming in through the open window next to me. My blood ran cold as I scrambled to the window already knowing where to look. Across the river and down a floor, I could see the window of our old apartment. There, standing in full view, was the shadowy figure.

Its head was tilted up to. toward my window, its expressionless face staring directly at me. As I watched in horror, I could see its mouth open and possibly wide and let out the exact same scream. I shook as my stomach made its way into my throat, making it difficult to breathe. I gingerly touched my still horrifically bruised throat as I stared across at the creature. Not only did this figure know where I was, but it was screaming. screaming, something I had not heard it do before. But that scream made goosebumps ripple across my skin, chilling me to the bone.

It wasn't just any scream. It was mine. It's time to drift off into your own nightmare. If you would like to find out how you can hear the full-length versions of our audio program, please visit the no-sleeppodcast.com to learn about our season past program. 25 episodes, each over two hours long, and three exclusive bonus episodes, all for only 1999. On behalf of everyone at the No Sleep Podcast, we thank you for listening. Join us again next week.

We'll have more stories for you and whatever that is standing right behind you. This audio production is copyright 2016 by Creative Reason Media Inc. All rights reserved. The copyrights for each story are held by the respective authors. No duplication or reproduction of this audio program is permitted without the written consent of Creative Reason Media, Inc.