The NoSleep Podcast - NoSleep Podcast S8E09

Episode Date: December 4, 2016

It's episode 09 of Season 8. On this week's show we have five tales about creatures, colors, and convicts. "Do You Remember the Little Red Bear?"† written by Lindsay Moore and performed by Jesse Cornett & Corinne Sanders & Nichole Goodnight. (Story starts around 00:03:15) "Snow Witch of Schuylkill"† written by J.P. Carver and performed by Mike DelGaudio & Jessica McEvoy & Atticus Jackson & Matthew Bradford & Elie Hirschman & Jeff Clement & Erika Sanderson. (Story starts around 00:25:00) "Loose Teeth"‡ written by Nancy M. Long and performed by Nikolle Doolin. (Story starts around 00:55:00) "Hidden in the Colors"‡ written by Jackson Laughlin and performed by Dan Zappulla & Addison Peacock. (Story starts around 01:08:45) "Prison is Hell"† written by Sam Marduk and performed by David Cummings & Peter Lewis & Jesse Cornett & Alexis Bristowe & Jeff Clement. (Story starts around 01:25:00) Click here to learn more about the voice actors on The NoSleep Podcast  Click here to learn more about the Sleepless Live 2017 Tour  Click here for the Adrian Branch Library fundraiser  Click here to learn more about Lindsay Moore  Click here to learn more about J.P. Carver  Click here to learn more about Nancy M. Long  Click here to learn more about Jackson Laughlin  Click here to learn more about Sam Marduk  Executive Producer & Host: David Cummings Musical score composed by: Brandon Boone Audio adaptations produced by: Phil Michalski† & Jeff Clement‡ "Snow Witch of Schuylkill" illustration courtesy of Jen Tracy Audio 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

This is a horror fiction podcast. We're here to frighten you and mess with your head because that's what you want. So give into your fear because tonight there will be no sleep. It's the no sleep podcast. I'm David Cummings. Thanks for joining us. On this week's show, we have five tales about creatures, colors, and convicts. Well, the calendar tells us that December is upon us, so as we enter the holiday season,

we hope you're all in a festive mood. It's during this season that we like to think of good things we can do for others, ways to spread a little cheer. And I can spread some cheer by updating you on the fundraiser we made you aware of in September. Author Rona Vassilar told us about Joe and Pip, the creatures residing in the basement of the very real library, run by Rona's mom, Meredith. Well, Meredith recently informed me of some very exciting news.

The fundraiser for the Adrian Branch Library is over halfway to its goal. And while most of the donations have come from locals and local businesses, there has been an impressive amount raised via online donations. And even better, out of all the online donations received, more than 50% of them have come from fans and members of the next. No Sleep Podcast and the No Sleep Reddit community. So on behalf of Meredith and Rona and Joe and Pip, we thank everyone who has been generous enough to give to the library's renovations.

You are most generous and quite awesome. And the fundraiser is still going on. If you go to library. dot the no sleeppodcast.com, you can still help bring the wonderful world of books to a new generation of kids. That's the kind of gift this season is all about. And we love to give back to you as well, so please accept the gift of these five stories as we kick off this week's show. In our first tale, we meet a man who is a wonderful big brother, as told by author Lindsay Moore. After being hurt in a serious car accident, his little sister requests her favorite children's book to read.

That leads the man and his girlfriend on a search with some very unexpected results. Performing this tale are Jesse Cornette, Corinne Sanders, and Nicole Goodnight. So keep your eye out for the book in case someone asks you, do you remember the little red bear? My younger sister, Wendy, always loved reading. I've never been a huge fan of books, but Wendy could sit for hours, thoroughly absorbed in them. Wendy was the kind of person who loved details. Whenever our parents dragged us to museums, Wendy would find a painting and stand in front of it, staring intently.

Our parents would prod her along, nudging her through galleries while I whined and complained about how bored I was. Wendy was an inside kid, perfectly content to sit with a book. I was an outside kid. I needed to move. I needed to run around. Sometimes I think Wendy was so quiet and reserved because I had inherited all of the energy. So while Wendy sat with her books, I played as many different sports as I could. Despite our differences, Wendy and I still got along. During long car rides, she'd put her book aside from play games of I Spy with me. She always helped me study for tests too, despite being three years younger than me.

English class was the bane of my existence. And by the time I reached high school, I could sit and force myself to read, but writing essays and taking tests was a bitch and a half. Wendy would spend hours helping me study. I barely squeaked by, but she never complained about how much time she wasted on me. I got into a local college on a baseball scholarship. Even though Wendy wasn't there, she always made time to chat with me over some. Skype. I had decided to major in sports therapy and rehab, thinking that it would be relatively

easy. I had assumed that there wouldn't be any English lit involved. Stupid common core requirements. I enrolled in the easiest English class the school had to offer, and I still had trouble with it. I swear, if not for Wendy, I would have failed. I was halfway through my junior year in college when Wendy was hit by a car. She had been crossing the street and the driver had been dicking around on his cell phone. Wendy survived, but both of her legs were broken. Her left leg had been shattered. She would need a lot of intense physical therapy. Will you help me? Of course. She smiled dreamily. I looked over at the ivy drip that was pumping painkillers into her and made a mental note to monitor what meds she took. I was taking a class on pain medicine and addiction, and after hearing

repeated lectures about the toll it took, I was afraid of my little sister becoming an addict. Wendy closed her eyes, leaning back in her hospital bed and drifting off. Hey, Tommy, do you remember the little red bear? I paused, racking my brain. Wendy has had lots of stuffed animals when we were younger, but I didn't remember. Remember a red teddy bear? I almost woke her up to ask her about it, but decided not to. Instead, I decided to head over to our parents' house and look for it. Maybe bringing her teddy bear would cheer her up. Wendy had been overly sentimental about her toys, books, and stuffed animals. Even when she'd outgrown them, she had refused to give them away. Instead, everything was

neatly boxed up and placed in the attic. When I didn't find the red tent, I didn't find the red teddy bear in her bedroom. I assumed that it wasn't there. I brought my girlfriend Morgan along to look through the attic. I met Morgan after bombing an English midterm during my freshman year. Wendy had thoroughly quizzed me over Skype and I had felt confident going in. But once I saw the actual test, I froze up. So afterwards, I hitched a ride to the nearest bar and proceeded to get completely and totally smashed. I left the bar right as it started to rain and began. in the long process of stumbling back to my dorm. I had seen Morgan at the bar, but we actually hadn't spoken. She was walking a few paces ahead of me, her black boots clunking heavily against the sidewalk.

She stopped suddenly, and I nearly walked right into her. She was staring intently at a nearby parking lot, as if she had seen something. Without a word, she bolted towards it. Curious, I watched as she got down on her hands and knees and wriggled under one of the cars. I fought through the haze of alcohol and followed her. I looked down at her kicking legs. Are you okay? I clumsily knelt beside her. The cold asphalt bit through my jeans and I winced.

I reached for her, clumsily patting her side. You should get up. There's a kitty. Morgan's response was equally slurred. She squirmed, pulling herself out from under the car. She was clutching a large gray and white cat. The cat was kicking and clawing at her, its razor-like claws digging into her coat. I stared at the cat, thoroughly surprised.

It yowled, arching its back and pounding its hind feet against Morgan's chest as she tried to hold it. Yush, you should put him down. He doesn't want to be held. Morgan looked at me, her big brown eyes filling with tears. But what if he belongs to someone? What if he belongs to someone and they're sad and they miss him? Thanks in part to my booze-addled brain, Morgan's weepy sentimentality over the stray cat tugged at my heartstrings. The next thing I knew, I was taking off my coat and helping Morgan bundle the yowling cat into it. We carried the cat back to Morgan's place.

At Morgan's insistence, we gave him a warm bath, then toweled him off. and gave him some tuna, which he gobbled up greedily. After eating, the cat curled up under the radiator and watched us warily. I spent the night on Morgan's couch, and the next morning, she called the local vet while I ate cold pop-tarts and nursed a hangover. Getting the cat to the vet's office was an ordeal in and of itself, but Morgan made it all seem worthwhile. She had managed to cram the cat into a cardboard box and spent the entire bus ride cooing at it and a sure, hearing it that it would be reunited with his family. Watching her baby talk the crying cat made my heart melt. I had my doubts about finding the cat's original family, as it didn't have a collar or any ID tags.

I was more than okay with the idea of Morgan taking custody of the cat, given how enamored she was with it. I think her quest to find the cat's rightful owner, despite her own love for it, was one made me fall for her. I was somewhat shocked and a little disappointed when we arrived at the vet's office and found out that the cat had a microchip in it. A part of me desperately wanted Morgan to have the cat, who had warmed up to her and was purring in her arms. The vet got a hold of the cat's owner and they arrived to retrieve their beloved wayward cat. After that, Morgan and I were practically inseparable. My parents didn't really like Morgan, but I figured that if she helped her, me find Wendy's teddy bear and cheer her up. That might generate some goodwill between them.

Morgan was a high school dropout. The art program in my college allowed non-students to use their facilities for a small fee, and Morgan could usually be found in the art building, welding something. She was a struggling artist through and through. Some of her sculptures had been displayed in local galleries and on campus, but no one had ever bought anything of hers. She liked to sculpt animals. Her work was a weird, delicate mix of realistic and abstract. Her best work was a sculpture of a hawk with its wing spread. It stood two feet tall and five feet wide.

She had crafted each individual feather pounding and hammering the strips of metal until each one contained a unique pattern of swirls and spirals. I remember looking at the hawk sculpture and knowing exactly how windy had felt every time we went to a museum as kids. There was so many fine details. I just couldn't stop staring. One of Morgan's friends wanted to put together an outdoor art gallery where sculptors could display their work.

There was a Kickstarter in place, but it wasn't doing so well, and I knew that Morgan was depressed because of it. I wasn't really sure if rooting through my parents' attic and looking for my sister's lost red teddy bear would help, but I figured that it couldn't hurt. At the very least, it would take her mind off the failing Kickstarter. Morgan and I went up to my parents' attic and went through all of Wendy's boxes. Morgan sifted through boxes filled with picture books that Wendy had adored, while I dug through the stuffed animals. Two hours later, we still hadn't found the little red bear.

Maybe it's the Swinny the Pooh. Morgan held up the soft yellow plush toy. Maybe the red is his sweater? I shrugged. Even if it's not, the little red bear, I'm sure Wendy won't be happy to see it. Morgan and I went to the hospital the next day and placed Winnie the poo in Wendy's arms. I couldn't find the little red bear, but I found poo bear. Wendy took the teddy bear confusedly.

The little red bear wasn't a toy. It was a book. I looked over at Morgan, but she shook her. her head. Sorry, I went through all the picture books. I didn't see it. Wendy hugged Pooh Bear. It was a scary book. It gave me nightmares.

She looked up at me. Are you sure you don't remember it? I bit my lower lip concentrating. I could dimly remember something about a red bear in a green forest. I didn't remember anything scary, though. I shook my head. Later, when I got back to campus, I tried searching the internet for The Little Red Bear, but nothing popped up. I forgot about it fairly quickly.

Morgan quickly became wrapped up in a new art project and spent more and more time in the art building. I barely noticed. I had taken it upon myself to oversee Wendy's physical therapy and make sure she didn't wind up hooked on any painkillers. My grades were floundering, but I had a couple of understanding professors. One even said that I could document my sister's physical rehabilitation as a project in lieu of attending class. I hated the idea of using Wendy like that, but she practically insisted upon it. So, I would visit her twice a week and film our sessions. Then I'd email them to my professor. Wendy's improvement was taking up the majority of my time, and I felt awful about ignoring Morgan. She didn't seem to notice. She'd thrown herself into a new art project

and she barely seemed to notice that we weren't hanging out as often. Whenever she called me, it felt like a surprise, like she was calling out of the blue. Her friend's art gallery Kickstarter had improved and it was starting to look like they'd get the funding for it after all. I was glad that Morgan had her art to distract her and keep her happy. I was finishing up some work with Wendy when Morgan called me to tell me about her project. That's great! Wendy gave a thumbs up as she slumped into her wheelchair. How long have you been working on it?

So that Saturday I packed Wendy and her wheelchair into my car and drove out to the address Morgan gave me. It was the land that her friend wanted to purchase for the outdoor art gallery. Have they actually bought the land yet? Wendy peered out the windows as I drove along the narrow dirt road. I don't know. I don't think so. The road led through a thickly wooded area, and it was bumpy. I started to regret bringing Wendy along,

as there was no way her wheelchair could navigate the terrain. I'd have to carry her. Can she set up her art, like legally? I pulled into a clearing. Morgan was standing beside an enormous metal sculpture of a bear. It was huge, towering over her. It was up on its hind legs, its massive paws raking the air. Its mouth was open in a mighty roar and was wide and cavernous.

I got out of the car slowly, unable to take my eyes off of it. The bear put Morgan's hawk to shame. It was so detailed. Its enormous round belly was covered in intricate swirling patterns. I stepped toward it, moment. momentarily forgetting that Wendy was in the car. Autumn had come and the trees behind the bear were blazing scarlet. The sun hit them and they glowed as if they were on fire.

It looked like the bear was rising up against a forest fire. I was so busy staring up at the bear, I almost didn't notice what was on the ground in front of it. Morgan had smashed an antique musket and strewn the pieces on the ground in front of the bear. The grass was covered in slick red paint, and a human arm partially clothed in a flannel sleeve lay by the broken gun.

I frowned. This addition cheapened the effect of the bear. The broken gun in the arm? Something clearly purchased at one of those Halloween stores that always pop up in October, made the whole piece seem tacky and tawdry. like a ham-fisted statement about hunting. What do you think?

Morgan bounced up and down excitedly. It's great, babe. Wow, but the arm. Oh, right. Morgan picked up the severed arm and flopped awkwardly in her hands. She scrambled up the bear, climbing it like it was a jungle gym, and dropped the arm into the bear's open mouth. I heard a muffled thump as it landed in the bear's belly.

I thought I saw her place something else in the bear's mouth before jumping down, but I was distracted by Wendy calling my name. Tommy, come here. I ran back to the car. I don't think the wheelchair can make it, kiddo. I can try to carry you if you want. My voice trailed off when I saw how pale she was. She was staring at the bear in wide-eyed terror.

It's the little red bear. I looked over at the bear, puzzled. No, that thing's huge. Like in the book. The little red bear lived in the green forest until the day the hunters came. The little red bear couldn't hide, so he ran. He ran and ran until the leaves turned red. Once he was in the red forest, he stopped running and the hunters couldn't find him.

The hunters gave up and went home, but the little red bear stayed in the red forest. He stayed until he was big and strong. Then he went back to the green forest. When the hunters came back, the little red bear ate them all up because he wasn't little anymore. He was the big red bear. The big red bear ate the hunters and made the green forest as red as he was. I suddenly remembered the book in vivid detail. I remembered pages and pages of exquisitely detailed illustrations of a bear tearing a man apart. I remembered sharp yellow teeth ripping into soft pink flesh, crimson blood splattering across green grass and brown tree trunks and shiny white bones poking out of the denim-clad legs. I remember how that book had both

terrified and fascinated the two of us, how we would sneak glances down at the pages as if looking too long would make the bear come to lock. I shook my head, pushing the memories back. It's just a coincidence. I held my arms out. You want me to carry you? You should see it up close. Wendy shook her head and started to roll up her window.

I turned and looked at the bear. Its belly was glowing. Its belly was turning a bright, vibrant scarlet. The light seemed to leak out of it. bleeding out into the air. It terrified me in a way I still can't explain. I saw the bear's glowing red belly and wanted to run and hide. Thick black smoke was pouring out of the bear's roaring mouth, making it look like a dragon.

The bear's sharp metal teeth gleamed amid the dark, swirling clouds that escaped its jaws. As quickly as I had admired the bear, I found myself hate. It. Morgan clapped her hands, jumping up and down like an excited child. Perfect. I stared at her, unable to comprehend who I was seeing. This was not the same girl who would rescue a stray cat on a rainy night. This was not the same girl who had cried when I told her about my sister's accident. I didn't know who I was looking at, but it wasn't Morgan.

It was like looking at a complete and total strain. The smell hit me like a ton of bricks, and I gagged. Once while I was hanging out with Morgan and watching her work, she burned her hand. Beyond her shriek of pain was the thick, sickly sweet smell of burning flesh. That smell was now pouring out of the bear's gaping maw. That arm hadn't come from a Halloween store. It had come from a person. A low moaning sound escaped from the bear, as if it was bellowing in sorrow and pain.

Wendy began to tap frantically on the window, shouting for me to get in the car. I climbed back into the car and drove off, leaving Morgan with her morbid masterpiece. I called the police and told them where she was. Wendy sat beside me staring out the window as if in a trance. Later, I would learn that more. Morgan had found the little red bear in my parents' attic all those months ago. She had become obsessed with it. Her apartment was covered with pictures of bears that she had colored red.

The police found human remains inside of Morgan's bear sculpture. It was the man who had hit Wendy. He had been placed under house arrest until a trial date could be set. Morgan had cut off his foot. removed his ankle tracking device and brought him to the woods where her sculpture was waiting. She had cut off his arms and legs before stuffing him into the bear and pouring gasoline down its metal throat. He had been alive when she tossed the lit match inside.

With winter fast approaching, many of us can fondly remember the joys of playing with friends outdoors in the snow. Author J.P. Carver reminisces about a local hill where kids could spend the day speeding down on toboggans and sleds. But during one very difficult trip to the hill, a local legend stole any happy memories of that winter fun. Performing this tale are Mike Delgado, Jessica McAvoy, Atticus Jackson, Matthew Bradford, Ellie Hirschman, Jeff Clement, and Erica Sanders. So if you're out in the snow this season, make sure you avoid the Snow Witch of Skukle. When I was a kid, we dreamed of snow, prayed for it in little congregations on the way to school. But it never seemed to come when you needed it, such as before a big test or when you didn't finish your book report. It was always welcomed when it did show up, though.

Where I lived, snow was like an off-coast storm to surfers. our element. It could be 20 below and we'd be out trudging through knee-high drifts on our way to the best sledding hill in the country. Well, perhaps it was so good because it was the only one even close to us. But I'm not sure. That hill could only be called amazing. Getting to it was a chore and a trek of what felt like a half a mile of brush and trees. But let me tell you, it was more than worth On that hill, and with a good, waxed runner's sled, you swore you heard the sound barrier crack. The only issue is that the hill is said to be haunted. Yeah, I know.

When I was a kid, I snorted at the idea, too. But the tale of the Snow Witch of Skookle County had been a campfire staple since the town was created. The gist of it is an old woman lived in the woods that surrounded the town. There was a dispute between her and a man. who built his cabin on the hill. They had their arguments, and then after one huge snowstorm, the woman showed up frozen to death, and the man was never seen again. Some say she still walks that hill during snowstorms, looking for someone to keep her warm. It was years before I realized that the story may have had some truth. It was the morning after a huge snowstorm. The kind of storm

that gets its own name and has put in the town hall records as a storm. It was a storm. It was the morning storm of the century. Before the first flake fell, schools and businesses were closing, and we kids already made plans to meet at the hill first thing in the morning. We met at the beginning of the path an hour after the world turned gray. The snow still fell and the wind felt like razors on our exposed skin, but I was as happy as could be pulling my sled through the drifts. The rest of the kids didn't seem to be having as much fun when they showed up. What took you guys so long? Mike waved me off as he dropped face first into the snow, his breath coming out in clouds.

He turned his head to look at me. I got two sisters. I had to lose. You know how hard it is to run in almost a foot of snow? Get off my back. Yeah, and I couldn't lose mine. Ken nodded to his sister Sarah beside him. She was only a bit younger and shoved him into the snow with her shoulder. Maybe if you laid off the meatballs, you could lose some weight and then outrun me.

She pushed up her hood with a mitten to show rosy cheeks and a runny nose. Besides, Milton invited all of us yesterday at the bus stop. I hadn't, but I wasn't about to get in an argument before a long walk. Plus, I didn't mind her tagging along as I had a bit of a crush on her back then. Hey, uh, where's Tim? Mike coughed from the ground and rolled to his back. The front of his snowsuit was covered in melting snow. He pointed out and I saw Tim making his way down a short hill a few yards away.

He's coming. He lost his boot. With another deep breath, he tilted his head to look at me. You sure this is a good idea, Mill? Shit is still falling. Mike. Ah, candid, Mom. I watched Tim trudge towards.

us, his sled turned over, but he didn't seem to care. He came to a stop next to me, facing the woods, and pulled down his scarf. This is going to be a pain in the ass. Everyone ignored Sarah's huff of disapproval. Mike is right. You sure this is such a good idea? Foot of snow won't be easy to sled in. You know it never gets that high up there. Too many trees. Plus, I bet the stream is frozen over, so we can cut along that.

Tim shrugged. As long as Ken's fat ass doesn't break it all. Screw you. You ain't much smaller. Ken shoved Tim. I stepped between them. Just as I didn't want to argue, I didn't need these two knuckleheads going at it. Knock it off or both of you are staying behind.

Whatever. Tim started off into the woods. Ken grumbled a few curses as he followed, and then Mike struggled out of the snow and pushed past me. I watched them go, shaking my head. Sometimes, being the oldest of the group, sucked. They always act like that? Or is Tim in an extra pissy mode?

Good thing you stopped that. It'll be fine once we get to the hill. Are you sure you're up for this? I don't want to walk you home if you get too tired. I'm on the track team at school, Mill. You really think I can't handle a hike? She glared at me and I held up my hands. Fair enough.

After you, ma'am. I watched her slip into the bushes. I stood back for a moment, wrapping the rope of my sled around my hand and stared up at the sky. I could hear them trampling through the brush while the snow fell all around me. A good feeling washed over me and I couldn't help but smile. This would be a great day, I told myself and headed into the trees. The trail was covered and the stream we found was only frozen over enough to walk on in a few places. Ken broke through fairly easily, causing a crack all the way down the stream for as far as we could see.

So, it was back to the trail and listening to Ken complain about wet legs, and Tim complained about how fat Ken was. I did my best to ignore it and instead talked to Sarah as she tried to keep up beside me as I led the group. Ken says you broke the sound barrier up here. I don't believe him. Seems like we come close. You've never been up here? No. I...

She stumbled into the snow beside me face first. I laughed as I helped her up. Her face was covered in snow, turning it red. Her look of annoyance made it even funnier. She smoked my arm for laughing. Shut up. Stupid snow. Can't see anything.

How do you know we're going the right way? Because Mill is obsessed with this place. He's always coming up here. We think it's his secret makeout spot. He does love the deer up here. is it's the snow witch that keeps him coming back. The three of them laughed. I ignored them as I helped Sarah over a large rock.

They're half right. I'm up here all the time in the winter. I could probably find this place blindfolded. Besides, from here you can see the hill. I pointed to our right where, between the poles of the trees, we could make out the top of the hill, where it cut the horizon in half. Five minutes more of walking had us at the base of the hill, looking up. It was a strange clearing, to be honest.

It was like a square of the woods had been ripped out. There were no stumps, and the grass never seemed to go higher than your knees in the spring and summer. It had been an old homestead of some sort. The man's building from the story still sat at the very top of the hill, falling apart, but mostly still standing. An overgrown trail led out to the main road after a few miles. Mike and I had found some cool antlers and a few of those old round bullets in the building years ago. We spent the morning sledding, flying down the hill like idiots, and sometimes jumping the creek at the bottom. Things were going well until Sarah tried to jump the creek like the rest of us.

Her brother and Tim were against it, but I wanted her to try. Mike agreed, too. There was no reason why she couldn't do it, too. She went down after a small argument, catching more speed than any of us. She was the lightest of us. We whooped and carried on as she went down, cheering. as it looked like she'd easily clear the creek. Then the right runner hit a rock and snapped. We watched in horror as the sled tilted to the right,

caught the ground at an angle and sent Sarah flying. She landed a foot from the creek, but tumbled from the momentum and splashed into the water. Our gleeful shouts turned into frightened cries as we rushed down the hill as fast as our legs could carry us. I was the first to reach the edge of the creek. Sarah sat sobbing in the middle of the water and chunks of ice clutching her leg. I cursed and dropped down beside her, careful not to splash her.

She bled from a cut on her forehead, and I wiped some of it away with my coat sleeve before it reached her eyes. Oh, shit. Sarah. My, I think, I think my leg broke my leg. She said in shuddering gasps, tears streamed down her face, she fought against them, obviously in pain, but not wanting to show it. I touched her shoulder and moved down to her leg, gently running my hand along the top of her thigh, and down to her calf where she cried out and punched me.

It's broken, all right. Ken dropped down into the water, splashing us both. Holy shit! Are you all right, Sarah? He asked and knelt down beside her. He placed his hands on her arms, but luckily didn't try to hug her. She shook her head and told him the same. as me. He looked down at her leg and frowned. What are we going to do, then, Mill?

Everyone looked to me. It was these moments as well that I hated being the oldest. I sighed and looked back to the trail and then down at Sarah. We need to get her out of the water. She'll freeze otherwise. Ken's face took on a mask of fear, but Sarah just nodded. Tim, get down here. Give us a hand. All three of us moved Sarah, each taking a lane. I took the job of lifting her legs and the other two lifted her body. She screamed, a sound that was so painful, I haven't heard anything like it since.

We struggled up the bank and carried her a little farther before setting her down in the small area Mike had cleared. Her screamed turned to terrible sobs as we sat her down. Ken looked at me, anger obvious on his face. What the hell happened? He took a few steps towards me. You were there. You saw the sleigh. break. It was your damn sled. She's like this because of you. He shoved me back a few steps,

and it was a struggle not to return it. We should have never let her. Let me. This was my choice, Ken. I'm not some little kid. This is no one's fault. Knock it off. Ken turned to her for a moment before sending another glare at me. Whatever. We need to get help. Yeah, there's no way the four of us can carry her out of here with all this snow, not without dropping her. We can't just leave her here, though. That earned me another glare from Ken. I know that, so I'll stay. You, Mike, and Tim go.

I don't want you fussing over me and make it worse, and Tim and Mike will make sure you get out. Sarah? Are you really going to argue with me when I have a broken leg? She led a small smile show when he cursed. Fine. We'll be right back, so don't try to carry her out or something stupid, Milton. I watched them leave. Annoyed, but unable to really find a comeback to use. I yelled after Ken when he was only a few feet away. Leave your jacket. What?

She soaked from the creek. I took off my jacket and went to her. We need to keep her as warm as we can, so I need all your jackets, all of them. Tim didn't say a word as he removed his and came back to hand it to her. to me. Ken grumbled the entire time as he went to Sarah and put his coat around her shoulders. Mike struggled with his for a moment and then tossed it at me. They left and I paced around Sarah, eyeing the tree line as I did so. It was quiet in the woods and the snow fell at a steady clip, silencing the noise. After a few minutes, I couldn't deal with it any longer.

I'm sorry. A snowball hit me in the back. I turned with a start and saw her making another one. What? Don't let Ken get to you. It's no one's fault. She said and threw the other snowball at me, which I dodged. Will you please just sit down? You're making me nervous walking around like that. I nodded and sat down next to her and she dropped her head against my arm. You weren't kidding about going fast up here. Told you we got close sometimes. She gave a small chuckle. Still, thanks for letting me come along. If you said no, then Ken would have never let me come. Yeah, well, you're not much younger and you're okay in my book.

She pushed a little more against my arm and I looked down to see a pained smile on her lips. I really hope Ken and Tim don't kill each other in the creek or something. Nah, they both can be idiots, but they know how serious this is and Mike is there. He'll keep them in line. I shivered as a harsh wind blew through the clearing. The snow had picked up some and came down at an angle. Shit, it's getting worse. Sarah removed my jacket from her front and shoved it towards me.

I pushed it back. If you freeze to death, then I'm going to be alone here. Stop trying to be macho for a minute, all right? It's hard to argue with someone that's hurt, and so I took the jacket. We huddled together as the snow continued to fall harder. It was almost a blizzard after a few minutes, and I began to wonder if the guys would even find their way back. Looking around, it became obvious that we'd need to find shelter. Sarah shivered as the snow started to layer on the coats.

I looked up at the rundown building. It was little more than a shack, but it was already covered in snow and still stood. That wouldn't be such a bad place to take shelter in. But getting Sarah to it would be hard. I turned back to her. We can't stay out here any longer. Well, I'm not walking anywhere. I nodded.

No, but. I went over to one of the sleds and dragged it over. You think you could hold on to this? If we get up to that shack, it will least block some of the snow. Yay. Was just thinking I hadn't screamed in pain for a few minutes. She offered a smile to soften the sarcasm. It took three of you to get me.

me out of the creek. I can lift you easily. The problem in the creek was the bank. This shouldn't be as bad. I dragged the sled over beside her and then knelt in front of her. I don't want to move you any more than I have to. But we don't know how long the guys are going to be and you're shivering like crazy. Because I'm freezing.

I get it, Milton. Let's just get this over with. She didn't scream this time, but I could tell she wanted to. I got her on the sled and then pulled her. up the hill. It wasn't easy as the snow was now almost a half a foot. And while Sarah wasn't even remotely heavy, it was still tough to get the sled up. I fell over when we reached the front of the shack and just laid there, my breath coming out in clouds of steam as my chest burned from the cold. I laid there for a moment while my heartbeat slowed enough that it wasn't the only thing I could

hear in my ears. I rolled over and sat up to see Sarah. She gave me a concerned look, and I took a deep breath and started to get up, but froze a few inches off the ground. Someone walked along the edge of the creek. They wore what looked like a heavy shawl and was hunched over. They used a walking stick to clear out enough snow to walk through, but they still struggled. The first thought that came to me was about the snow witch, but I quickly put that from my mind until they paused and turned to look at us. They were too far to see a face, and I felt ice run down my spine and felt, fell back to the snow and surprise. Hey, what's wrong?

Nothing. I swallowed hard. In a blink, the person was gone, but their trail was still along the bank. I looked to Sarah and tried to blank my face. Thought I saw something. Come on, let's get you inside. I moved to her, and then picked her up as gently as I could, and then made my way into the half-collapsed shack.

Inside, snow lined the corners and appeared in little piles, wherever there was a crack. A stone fireplace sat towards the back of the room, and the dirt floor laid covered in ice that spiderwebbed out like lace. I laid Sarah down near the fireplace. We lost a few of the jackets. I'll go get them. Stay put?

Yeah, like, I'm going to go anywhere. She shook her head as she scooted over to put her back against the fireplace. Just don't take too long. I don't like it here. I nodded and headed back out. The jackets laid in a line down the hill to where Sarah had sat. I sighed and trudged my way down, picking them up as I went. When I reached the last one, a muffled scream came from the shack,

and what sounded like glass-breaking reached me. I turned and ran through the snow. Sarah! Sarah! I reached the door to see Sarah sitting where she'd been before and gave me a curious look. Why are you yelling? You screamed. No, I didn't. I stepped into the...

room and looked around and then back to her. I heard you scream. No one screamed, Milton. You don't look so good. Come here. You've got to be cold, too. I'm fine. I looked back outside.

The sky had turned to darker gray. So much snow fell that it looked like the world outside the door had been turned to a static channel. I sighed. It didn't look like help would be coming anytime soon. Mill, stop making me sound like my mom and just sit down. The guys will be back any minute now. She patted the hearth next to her. Please?

I went over and sat down. I placed the coats over her. Oh, this snow is getting worse. We may be stuck here for a while. She shrugged. Well, at least we're in here now. I nodded. Try to get some sleep.

I'll keep watch for the guys. I don't think I could sleep. Just try. She sighed and placed her head against my shoulder. She was out in a few minutes. At some point, I followed her into sleep, but I don't remember even dozing. Just one moment I watched the snow

and the next I woke up to darkness. I jolted in place and then looked over to where Sarah was, but she had disappeared. Panic hit me and I jumped to. to my feet. Sarah? A creaking sound came from somewhere in the darkness, like that of a rocking chair. My eyes were slowly adjusting to the room, and I could just make out the faded gray of what looked like one in the corner of the room, where the roof had caved in. Sarah, where are you? The rocking continued. Who's there? Who's in the chair? No answer. I backed to the mantle and felt my

shoulder hit a long box. I turned to it and picked it up. Inside I found what felt like matches. I found the right end and struck it against the box. The match lit to life to show a room that was put back together. The roof was no longer on the ground. No snow laid on the floor and the shawled person sat in the rocking chair with Sarah on her lap. I nearly dropped the match when the person looked up, and I could see the black and blue face of what looked like a young woman. Her cheeks looked like a patchwork of ice and burnt toast, and I watched as blue lips turned to a smile, as she lifted a finger to them and shushed me. What's going on? She shushed me again. I went to say something more, but a pounding on the door stole my voice, and I turned to look at it. Through the

windows on either side, I could see a number of lanterns, which threw orange light into the room, called someone from outside. The woman canted her head to me and then reached over to the gas lamp on the table beside her. She turned it up just a little as the match between my fingers guttered and burnt me. I swore and shook it out. You're in there. Come out, or we will burn this place to the ground. She gave me a pained smile. She smoothed Sarah's hair with an icy hand. Her other hand rested on Sarah's broken leg, which was no longer turned the wrong way. Another voice called from outside.

What are you lot doing? Get away from my home. You're hiding the witch in there, Jacob. Mary saw her go not an hour before. She's no witch, and I allow her to stay here when the weather turns foul. Go on home. All of you. We will do no such thing. She has cursed our homes.

Our children are sick and our stored food rots. Yet she is able to live among the forest and find food even in these dire times. Who else but a witch? Listen to yourselves. Your children are sick because of this harsh winter. Your food rots because the snow has gotten into your cellars. She has nothing to do with it. I could hear a scuffle outside and a lot of cursing.

She has infected you, Jacob. Do not stand in the way of God's righteous flame. The window shattered and two lanterns landed broken on the floor, the oil spilling out for a few seconds before the flames caught. In a moment, the place looked like an inferno. The woman in the rocking chair just gave me a ghostly smile and still smoothed Sarah's hair. I ran through the flames and started toward her and made my way over. I went to pick up Sarah, but the woman clasped on even tighter.

What are you doing? We have to get out of here. Her eyes narrowed at me, and I felt that icy chill again down my spine. I pulled on Sarah's arm, and she stirred some. Let her go. I have to get her out of here. Her voice came out in a milky cloud, even in the heat of the flames. Stay.

She grabbed my wrist, and I felt my skin burn from the cold. I struggled free and fell back to the floor, the flames lapping at my back. She isn't yours. She belongs with me. I have to help her. She snarled at me as I stood again. Please, we don't belong here. She looks down at Sarah, and then at me, her eyes searching my face for a moment. So alone. She looked over to the windows, and I did as well.

I felt my head spin as the room seemed to be a mixture of the one on fire and the broken down one we had entered. Stay. I closed my eyes to stop them from crossing, and then rushed the woman on the chair and took hold of Sarah. I pulled with everything I had, and her grip loosened enough that Sarah and I tumbled to the floor with her landing on me. I looked up to see the woman start to stand.

When she began to reach for us, I rolled Sarah to the side and then stumbled to my feet and scooped her up. The cold and the fire mixed together so that I was both freezing and dying from the heat at the same time. The woman limped toward me, her hand outstretched. No, can't lose her. No more. I turned to the door which was open but closed at the same time, almost like the world couldn't decide which was true. With Sarah in my arms, I ran toward it and braced myself for hitting it.

Instead, I went right through, and we both went flying out into the snow. Sarah woke halfway in the air and screamed as she landed beside me in a pile of snow. What the hell are you doing? I didn't acknowledge her. I was too busy looking at the woman in the shawl as she stepped out into the snow. She stopped feet from us and stared for a long. moment and then turned and started toward the tree line. Who?

Who the hell is that? I just shook my head. Milton, who is that? She pulled in my arm and I looked for a moment and then looked back. The woman was gone. We can't stay here. I stood slowly. Well, I can't very well.

She stopped mid-sentence and looks down at her last. leg. She ran her hand over it and then looked back at me, a disbelieving look on her face. What the hell? I don't know. I don't know. I held my hand out to her. We need to go and never come back here. She nodded and took my hand before she gingerly stood on her broken leg. She stood fine and we left in the blizzard to find our way home.

When we reached the edge of the woods, we found Tim, Mike, and Ken trudging up the hill. They all gave us a surprise look and came back. What the hell are you doing, Mill? I told you not to do anything stupid. What happened to your leg? What took you so long? We've only been gone ten minutes. What's going on?

How did you get her out here? I shook my head and didn't try to make sense of the time difference. It's a story for another day, I said, and started to walk up the hill leaving Sarah with Ken. I had hurt and my arm hurt where she had. marked me, I wanted nothing more than to sleep. Sarah told them what she knew and I didn't try to fill in the blanks. They wouldn't have believed me anyway. Instead, I looked for information on what I saw. Turns out the story of the Snow Witch of Skukle is based on a true account from the 1800s. A man named Jacob built a cabin on a small homestead. It turns out that the land was already occupied

by a young hermit woman that the town had banished years before, after her family died from famine. From what I can gather from the news reports of the fire, Jacob and the woman became involved and had a young girl. The years went on in a bad winter hit, but Jacob and his family were the least affected, as he was a good hunter and the woman was able to forage. They thrived while the town struggled, and there was jealousy. The fire was stated to be in accident by the local paper. The woman died from her injuries from the fire, but she was able to save her daughter, protecting her as she ran through the door and into the snow. She died in the snow where no one would help her. Sarah and I never went back to the hill again, but in the years since I've heard more and

more stories and sightings of the shawed woman. A young girl recently went missing near that hill, which triggered this memory. I can't help but wonder if the woman kept the woman. the girl. Your time in our netherworld has come to we release you back into your own reality. If you would like to find out how you can hear the full-length versions of our audio

program, please visit the no-sleep podcast.com to learn about our season pass 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 when our unseen hands will drag you down into our dark storyland. This audio production is copyright 2016-2017 by Creative Reason Media, Inc. All rights reserved. The copyrights for each story are held by the respective authors. The name The No Sleep Podcast is a trademark of Creative Reason Media Inc. duplication or reproduction of this audio program is permitted without the written consent of Creative Reason Media, Inc.