The NoSleep Podcast - NoSleep Podcast S8E19

Episode Date: March 5, 2017

It's episode 19 of Season 8. On this week's show we have five tales about bloody buildings and bullies."A Party in a Church"† written by T. Weaver and performed by Matthew Bradford & Dan Zappula & Nicole Goodnight & Atticus Jackson. (Story starts around 00:06:25)"Even Demons Need to Study"† written by Jim Wicket and performed by Dan Zappula & David Cummings &. Mike DelGaudio & Erika Sanderson & Patric Cline & Jesse Cornet & Atticus Jackson. (Story starts around 00:26:00)"Putting Lipstick on a Pig"† written by S.H. Cooper and performed by Atticus Jackson & Corine Sanders & Alexis Bristowe. (Story starts around 00:47:30)"The New Roomate"† written by John Foster and performed by Mike DelGaudio & Jeff Clement & Kyle Akers & Ellie Hirshman & Peter Lewis. (Story starts around 01:01:30)"The Forever Family"‡ written by Marcus Damanda and performed by Jessica McEvoy & Mike DelGaudio & Jeff Clement. (Story starts around 01:31:00)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 to learn more about the Chilling Tales Animation series Kickstarter Executive Producer & Host: David CummingsMusical score composed by: Brandon BooneAudio adaptations produced by: Phil Michalski† & Jeff Clement‡Audio program ©2017 - 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 in to your fear because tonight there will be no sleep podcast. It's the no sleep podcast. I'm David Cummings. Thanks for joining us. On this week's show, we have five tales about bloody buildings and bullies. Well, the tour rolls on and we're three. three quarters of the way through.

We wrap up our East Coast swing this weekend, and then we jet out to L.A. to start our trip up the West Coast. We'll be doing shows in L.A., Oakland, Portland, Portland, and we'll finish the tour at the legendary Crocodile Cafe in Seattle on March 12th. The response so far has been completely overwhelming. Shows are selling out, fans are lined up out the door, and everyone has been treating us with such heartfelt love and affection. Clearly, our efforts to terrify and disturb you aren't working.

We're getting hugs instead of screams. But we're all so grateful for everyone who has come out to see us. We can't wait to visit with our fans on the left coast. And now I'll do a bit of reporter on the street interview with the gang. Jessica, we're here near D.C. How you feeling? Just getting up? How was the show last night?

It's a really good show. Well, thanks for being on the tour. Thanks for having me. Gentlemen, we're just outside of D.C. How are you feeling? We're three weeks into the tour. It's been going absolutely fantastically. And the show last night?

It's awesome. A lot of cool people. So many lovely people. Everyone is so enthusiastic and really sweet and telling us what the podcast means to them. And yeah, it's heartwarming. It really is. It keeps us going.

I don't believe either of you. I'm a staying at murder house I'm sorry Peter Lewis three weeks into the tour How are you feeling? Feeling good I still have all of my limbs Surprisingly We can't say the same for all our fans

But that's the way it goes Looking forward to Philadelphia I am I can't wait to see Philadelphia It's a good movie Nicole we're three weeks into the tour How are you feeling? Pretty good You sound tired

I am Well, I did a show in your hometown last night. How was that? Oh, it was really exciting. I loved it. It was a really good show. Very, very good. I'm happy to turn over the show to the lovely Erica Sanderson again this week.

I confess I'm a little worried about how many people are saying she's doing a much better job at this than I am. Hmm, there's my job in danger. Well, I wholeheartedly agree that I'd rather listen to her voice than mine. But before I unleash Erica on you to start the show, I want to let our fans know about an exciting new Kickstarter campaign by our friends at Chilling Tales for Dark Nights and the Simply Scary podcast. They're working hard at creating the first fully animated anthology horror series, featuring a cast of independent voice talent and the work of independent authors. It's an exciting project, which will take the kinds of stories you're used to hearing from them, and bringing a visual element to them with, very cool and creepy animation. The lineup they have in store with the authors and voice actors is very impressive,

and there's even talk of some very special guest stars from the world of Hollywood horror joining their project. To learn more about it, and hopefully add some funds to make the project come to life, just go to chilling tales for darknights.com slash animation. Help them make horror for your eyes as well as your ears. And so it's time for us to load up the van and head to Philadelphia. Erica, let's get things started as we kick off this week's show. Hello, everyone.

And thank you, David, for inviting me to come and sit in the big chair again this week. Apologies, if I'm sounding a bit husky. I'm practicing for a new femme fatale role in the future. Now, if you've been following the hashtag No Sleep Live 2017 on Twitter or the No Sleep Facebook page, you've probably been seeing all the wonderful photos from the tour. From what we've been hearing, the intimacy of the venues that the team have been visiting is really suited to help with the ambience of the show.

Now, someone else who really knows how to create the right atmosphere in a venue is author T. Weaver, who in our first tale, introduces us to a group of students who decide to host a graduation party in an abandoned chapel in the woods. Performing this story are Matthew Bradford, Dan Zepula, Nicole Goodnight, and Atticus Jackson. Hold off on the communion wine as we heads to a party in a church. There was a church in the woods that my friends and I would go to.

I suppose it's probably still there, though I haven't seen it in years. Over the course of our childhoods, the chapel grounds were pretty much our own little hideout. We spent nearly every summer going there and goofing around. Nothing ever felt off with the place. It felt comfortable. So, when high school graduation was coming up, we naturally needed a place to have our last senior hurrah. And, as you can guess, my friends Kelly Sam and I recommended the church.

Not to our surprise, no one even knew it existed. Regardless, they thought it to be perfect. Flash forward some weeks later, and we were prepping up the place for that night's party. We moved the heavy wooden pews as best we could up against the walls to try and open up the place. We knew upwards of a hundred people were planning on attending, and although the place was large, it still wouldn't be enough. As I was thinking of what else we could do to free up room,

I heard Sam speak up. Hey, Jesse, look at this. It looks like a little kid. Sam chuckled under his breath, before he bent down and inspected the floor in front of the podium. Kelly and I walked over and peered at what he was talking about. Sure enough, right in front of the podium was a child-sized stain. It looked dark, old, and burned into the wood. What do you think made it? I really can't remember it being here.

Kelly looked over her shoulder towards me. I shrugged in response. We probably didn't see it because of the pews. It must have been hiding under one of them. Sam and Kelly looked at each other and gave it. of a slight nod of acceptance. Anyway, let's get ready for tonight. We'll head home and meet back up here for the party.

We all agreed and left the blackened on the floor. The walk home that afternoon was nothing out of the ordinary. We kept on the thin little dirt trail that had existed well before we were ever born. That trail led us straight to the old father's abandoned house. He had passed away a few years before I could rightfully remember, but apparently I was the last to be baptized by him before he passed. No one else bothered to move into that old place. Well, most people would comment about it and say,

no matter what, it'll always be the fathers. We never much knew about the old priests used to live in that home. But we were thankful for him leaving us such a great, secret party place off in the woods. Needless to say that once we hit the streets, we all split up and went off in our different directions towards our own individual homes. With a few hours I had to kill, I did some chores, prep some breakfast, and got myself cleaned up. My parents were almost always out of town,

so I always had to take care of myself. I can't say I minded it, but it definitely made the nights I had like this that much more special. During these days, I could shrug off the weight of the world and have some fun. When you have to take care of yourself, you sometimes forget what being a kid really means. With all my busy body activities, Night fell before I knew it.

I thought about how there was around a hundred kids sneaking off towards Kelly Sam and I's formerly secret hangout. It was a surreal thought. One hundred people. One hundred living, breathing souls were all heading to the one place I always thought of as mine. But they were all going there to have fun together, and I helped make it a possibility. I did my best to wipe the grin off my face before I heard the doorbell ring. I raised an eyebrow and walked towards my door. Opening it, I saw Kelly.

Now, there's something I have to say. When people explain getting some feelings as like a switch being flipped on and off in their brain, it's true. Kelly and I had always been friends since we were children. We had her fair share of arguments, scrudges and hateful speeches, but for whatever reason, seeing her here under my porch light, sent a reaction through me. instantly every grudge match we ever had stopped existing i wanted to be with her hey i thought we could walk together i figured the guys might try to be dickheads and bother the girls walking alone her voice didn't have that dull gray tone anymore that kind of tone old friends seem to have the kind of tone that's more of an extension of yourself than that of someone else's it had its own life uniqueness maybe i'm just babbling on it's this point, but I want you to understand something in the air was different that night. Yeah, good idea. I was just about to head out anyway. I shook off those sudden feelings and

walked out my door, shutting it behind me. She smiled, and I swear I saw a certain sparkle in her eye that told me she was experiencing the same thing I was. The chilly summer night's air caressed my body, exhilarating my system with that all-too-real feeling of current nostalgia. The type of feeling that you know will be burned into your memories for the rest of your life. We walked down the street together. I just about worked up the courage to reach for her hand before I heard her speak. Is that Sarah and Chris? When did they hook up? I diverted my gaze from the ground to see the two of them wrapped up in each other's arms.

I don't know. I thought they hated each other. Kelly turned to face me and let loose a sweet-looking smile. I guess tonight's special for everyone. We walked near the old father's house and crept on to the property. I looked up into one of the windows and could have sworn I had seen someone looking down at us. I kept my eyes on the figure until we made it to the backyard. Strangely, it wasn't the first time I felt watched around here. It was just something I got used to.

After we passed by the window, my attention was on the trail that I had walked over so many times. with my friends. The trail leading off into the forest now had been altered. It was larger now with all the recent foot traffic. It made me feel a little upset knowing that this trail was no longer just the three of ours, but now the whole senior classes. Together we pressed on, occasionally passing a few spare couples that couldn't wait to get to the church to party with each other. The closer we got, the more the air felt different. And sure, part of the air. And sure, part of of it might have been sprouted from the smell of alcohol that now permeated the sweat of nearly everyone we passed. But there was also something else. It was almost like smelling helium. It felt lighter than

normal oxygen going into my lungs. I knew I wasn't going crazy either. A few people we passed made comments of feeling lightheaded and seeing a red mist. Before too long, we reached the old holy grounds. The entrance looked like it was overflowing with people. Unfortunately, the music from inside managed to fly through the open air with a fury, allowing people to extend the party under the night sky. Several people outside must have started a bonfire a few minutes before we got there. In the large clearing, students were dancing around the blaze with their shadows exploding and violating the ground around them. I'm not sure if it was my day's state, but they look surreal. Their shadows seemed to move of their own volition around the fire. I felt a tug on my shirt,

separating my eyes from the dancers. I turned them on to Kelly as her eyes lit up and she started to jog forward. I squinted my eyes, the red haze stronger now, to wherever she was running. I saw Sam with Kelly's best friend, Riley. I shook my head clear with a smile parting my lips. Sam had spent middle school through senior year with the biggest crush on that girl. and he finally got her to take a shot with him. I followed just behind Kelly as she stepped up next to Sam. Oh, hey, guys. Look who I've got here.

He nudged Kelly's friend with his elbow before wrapping his arm around the back of her waist. Finally gave in? Then, Kelly pulled Riley away from Sam to gossip with her. Looks like you're having a good time. I turned my head to spy on the girls. Yeah, tonight's something else, you know? I turned back to look at Sam. He had a sincere smile planted on his lips.

When I think of him, that's how I like to imagine him. Happy and comfortable. My thoughts were interrupted by a cheer coming from inside the chapel. As the line outside grew thinner, I looked over at Sam who returned my confusion. There would be no way this many people could fit inside. My buddy and myself headed forwards, pushing past the commotion around us. We managed to wiggle our... our way into the building.

On the opposite side of the church was a door I'd never seen before, just beyond the podium. False wooden paneling had been torn down, exposing this new space. What the actual hell? I felt something inside of me start to get angry. A type of jealousy from these random kids finding something me and my friends couldn't find her whole lives. I blew past Sam and went straight for a blue-eyed, white-haired kid on the podium. Hey, how the hell did you guys find that door? He looked down at me and pointed down to the floor.

His teeth shine through his lips in a smug manner. I looked over and saw the stain from earlier, except now it had an arm extended, pointing to the newly discovered entrance. Something about the stain didn't sit right with me either. It seemed larger, less like a child and more like a thin, taught man in a robe. I waved for Sam to come over and he waited his way through people. I pointed at the floor. Jesus. Should we see where that door goes?

I shook my head. I wanted to wait for Kelly. After all, this was her childhood home just like the rest of us. Exploring without her would feel like cheating. A few minutes passed before we saw her stumble inside with Riley. We herded them over to us, waving like maniacs to get their attention. Once they were close enough, we showed them the image of the pointing man burnt into the floor, in the newly revealed room.

Kelly was adamant we explore together. With most of the traffic equalized in the room, finding a way to push past everyone was easy enough. Turned out the next room over was no bigger than the first floor of a small steeple. The only thing of note was the stairs leading downwards into the center of the room. Our little group made our way over to them, and peered. down. On the walls lay destroyed stained glass images and paintings. They spiraled down along with the stairs. With one foot in front of the other, we all headed down. We each took our time and walked down every step in a single file line, with me and Sam in the front followed by Kelly and Riley.

Each step made the air around us seem hotter, heavier. A certain type of manic dread followed with it, the sort of feeling of adrenaline, anger, and depression all compressed together. I found myself continuously looking backwards at Kelly. It felt like those urges I had earlier were becoming amplified. The only thing that shook them off was the sounds we began to hear. We were close to the bottom when they started being audible. They sounded like moans and gasps, all very sensual in nature. At this point, I wanted to turn away. My mind was already cluttered with thoughts about Kelly. Whatever was down there wasn't going to help.

That's when I felt Sam's hand rest on my back, coaching me downward. I pushed the thoughts of leaving out of my head and entered the opening at the bottom of the steps. A large stone door was propped open, exposing a large, cavernous room. Directly across from us on the far wall was another stone door. Thick red mist billowed underneath the door,

suffocating out all the oxygen around us. What replaced the air was the same helium type of gas from outside, but amplified to an overbearing level. I managed to snap out of my trance to look around. To my horror, I saw things. Shadows of people, reaching out towards lifeless skin suits of students who were stapled against the walls. The shadows used their lengthy fingers to caress the teen bodies.

In response, the skin suits flinched and spasmed, akin to getting hot grease splashed onto their bodies. We need to get out of here now. Her tone begged for support. I heard laughing coming from Sam and Riley. I glanced towards them and froze. Their mouths gaped open. The black voids inside of their mouths revealed a second pair of teeth, grinning behind the lifeless mouths of my friends. Several shattery fingers ripped their way

through the skin on their hands. Chunks of meat fell to the floor. Sam's eyes were glazed over in erotic euphoria. I wanted to run, but with Sam directly behind me, I knew that was scarcely possible. Kelly must have felt the same way as we were both forced into the room that lay in our path.

Sam reached his gangly arm upward, the mouth still hanging agave. He was pointing towards the door across from us. Kelly was shoved next to me and she yelped from Riley's touch against her back. My head turned away from her towards the door. When my eyes focused on the stone, I noticed another burn mark start to appear. The shadow of a tall, thin man with an elongated head peered back towards me. His arms were outstretched towards the handle, begging us to open it.

My head became more than just a fog at this point. I could feel a sense of desire welling up inside me. I wanted that door to be open. Somehow, that door being open would give me some sort of pleasure beyond my imagination. We should open it. I tore my eyes away and looked at Kelly. She no longer looked like the girl under my porch light just hours ago. She no longer looked like my friend.

Her right eye bulged slightly out of its socket. Her skin was stretched and pulled tight. I could see the indentation of a gnarled hand. traveling underneath her skin on her arm, locking itself into place. I looked behind her to see one of those things, those voids of entities, tearing and stuffing its way halfway inside her back. I felt a burning in my throat. I wanted to vomit, to give up, to cry and break down. But I kept going. I didn't give in. A voice rang out, echoing amongst the walls.

You're the only one here who can open up that door. We've waited so long for... When my eyes turned back to the door, I expected to see the burns. But they were gone. Replacing them was the charred image brought to life. Tall, lanky, impossibly good posture. All of this and more couldn't truly describe him. He looked like a man made of stretch putty that was at its limits.

His head maintained its unnatural proportion. portions from the burn marks. Its bottom jaw jutted out with a fury, extending to his collarbone while his cheeks sunk in around his eyes and mouth. His face was as thin as a skull, yet brought a sense of authority and power I'd never experienced before. Before I knew it, I was standing before the door. My hand outstretched around the stone handle. I could feel tears stinging my face, the heat evaporating them before they fell to the floor. I was going to do it. I was going to open the door.

I was going to do the first terrible thing I've ever done. Then, I wasn't. I can't explain what came over me. It was a sense of strength I couldn't see. I envisioned the man in the old father's house, how he peered down at me as if he knew something about who I was, who I truly was. I dropped the handle of the door and turned around.

The shadows paced. back and forth in the room, panting with a strong desire. I ran past them. They screamed and reached out, but none of them stopped me. I kept running up the stairs, then past the party. I ran so far that before I knew it, I was in the arms of an officer. Someone apparently made a call to them anonymously. They told them kids were getting kidnapped, like what happened 30 years ago. I don't know what that meant, but I was happy. I didn't have to fight alone anymore. I had helped. They ended up clearing out the whole party. No one was missing.

Sam, Kelly, and Riley were all just fine. But I knew they weren't. Every once in a while, I catch them glaring at me, or I'd see a spasm just beneath their skin. That church became my nightmare. A few weeks later, I got a gift. It was sent to my college dorm room days away from that town, but I recognized the address.

It was that old abandoned house. Inside was a simple Bible and a note. I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you in person. Father, Joel. When a boy inherits a cigar box from his grandfather, it opens up an interesting window to the past. As author Jim Wicket tells us, visiting a library at night can lead to dangerous knowledge.

Performing this tale, our Dan Zepula, David Kahn, Cummings, Mike Del Gordio, Patrick Klein, Jesse Cornett, Atticus Jackson, and myself. It's time to brush up on the occult because even demons need to study. When I was a little kid, my dad gave me an old cigar box that belonged to my grandfather. My dad didn't know what was in it, despite having kept it for years. Grandpa gave him strict orders, never to speak. I never knew my grandpa. He passed away when I was a baby.

But my dad, my dad loved him dearly. We never had much in the way of things, but he always had a smile for his family. I interpreted this as both a remembrance and a warning, not to expect anything too fancy under the lid. The box itself was decorated with a colorful circus scene full of exotic animals and balancing clowns. The ringmaster stood in the foreground, clutching a cigar in his teeth. Sir Flanagan's fine cigars, said the logo, for a pure, healthy smoke every time. I snapped off the brittle rubber band that had held the lid on for all those years and lifted. My father need not have worried that I'd be disappointed.

The small, quirky treasures I found inside thrilled me, no matter their material value. The first thing I saw was the scowl of a little wooden demon god from some exotic faraway island. clinking near it were several coins of haughty monarchs gazing outward. Underneath them were several yellowing worn pages covered in strange hieroglyphics. I lifted these up and saw a bracelet made of twine fitted with teeth from a shark, a tiger, a man. There was a lock of boar's hair, an onyx marble, a passenger ticket to Siam. From my grandpa's time in World War II was a brass rifle cartridge. its significance left for me to ponder.

On the bottom of the box sat four photo booth pictures of my grandfather, looking exactly like my dad, mugging for the camera in what had to have been one of the few carefree moments of his life. I put the box on my bed, and when I turned to look for a magnifying glass, it slipped down to the floor. That's when the letter popped out.

It was hidden under the bottom panel of the box, several pages covered in scratchy handwriting. I laid next to my bedside lamp and began to read. Dear Ben, as I write this, I'm lying in an old Veterans Affairs Hospital with an IV in my one good arm and a catheter of the old battle rifle. They say they're doing everything they can to keep me comfortable, but if that were true, they'd let me smoke a damn cigarette. At least they cut down on the morphine enough for me to stay awake and write this. What I have to tell you is important. So, how are you? I saw you for the very first time last week, and he didn't look too happy.

Cute, sure, but you seemed very angry at everything. Turns out, you had some poop in your diaper. We got a lot in common already. I gotta be honest, life isn't gonna be easy. Certainly wasn't for me. Me and your dad and your grandma had some tough times growing up. Lots of times, all we had was each other. The things are going to be different for you.

How so? Well, let me start back at the beginning. Back in the middle of the Great Depression, I was a 16-year-old high school dropout. Now, that wasn't so unusual. A lot of teenagers were dropping out of school to try and support their families. Wish I could say that was my motivation, but I just didn't like the teachers.

I spent my days with the other neighborhood scraps. We called ourselves the runaround gang. We'd break shop windows, rob apple carts, snatch hats off trolley riders. My parents did their best to rein me in, but they had their hands full with five other kids. I was a lost cause. Then, one day, they couldn't ignore me anymore. I got arrested for swiping a pricey necklace from an uptown department store. This was a step up from our usual petty misadventures, which is why I did it.

I wanted to impress the other boys and the gang. Well, they were impressed all right. They cheered and screamed my name out for all to hear as they watched the squad car take me away. The cops called my dad at work. He was a day labor, so not only did he have to pony up bail, he also lost half the day's wages. I'd let you stay in there if it weren't for your mom. Mom, you really broke her heart this time.

Well, hearing that, man bout killed me. My mother was a sweet woman. Oh, Jimmy, I'm sorry we haven't been there for you. We've been too busy to see our little boy needed help. She dabbed her cheeks with a handkerchief. I would have preferred a smack on the head. I didn't want her to feel guilty. I decided right then and there, I was going to make her proud of me.

There's a cargo ship leaving next week. I signed up for it. I'll be gone three months, but it's good money when I get back. My parents looked at each other, confused. You better not be bullshitting us. Well, I was, in a way. I hadn't signed up for any ship, but I really did want to. And as luck would have it, I found one the next day that needed workers. I was surprised when they hired on a young fool like myself, until they told me how much I'd earn. I was slave wages, but it would help. The ship was leaving in a week. In the meantime,

I did my best to stay out of trouble. I had a court date soon, and I wanted to be able to plead for leniency. Truth be told, if it weren't for my family, I would have skipped it, got on the ship, and disappeared to some faraway land. Things would have turned out a lot differently then, both for me and for you. Medan court arrived. The judge was a crusty old windbag who sweated hatred from every pore.

From the second he laid his glass eye on me, oh, I knew I was in trouble. You claim you're trying right and help your family, but you wasn't stealing food. You had a big, old fancy lady's bracelet in your pocket

when you was apprehended. Maybe he wanted to get his ma present. The judge laughed at the bailiff. I'll be honest. You don't seem like the worst in the world. Hell, maybe you just fell into the road. So I'm going to be lenient. I'd have my head down, ashamed.

But I raised it when he said that. Your Honor, I appreciate it. I promise I'm going to turn my life around. Don't. There ain't 10,000 words equal to a single good deed. If you're truly committed to making your life one, that respects the rule of law, then you'll commit to atoning for breaking that rule to which you've suddenly professed your loyalty. So, I promise, it's not going to cut it today, boy.

Therefore, I'm sentencing you to one night volunteering at the Ezekiel K. Renfield Public Library. It's a fine institution but one in dire need of a good dusting and organizing, which you will provide as part of your turnaround towards a righteous life. Understand? He pounded his gavel. I told you he was a windbag, didn't I? Took me a minute to mentally sift through all that yakking he did and realize what my sentence was. A night cleaning the library.

Hell! That was nothing. To be honest, I'd never actually been in a library. But still, I wasn't worried. All I had to do was push dust under some rugs, and I'd be home-free. The Ezekiel K. Renfield Public Library had stone columns and gargoyles and looked like the villain's mansion in a detective movie. My goody Tooshoes, siblings, and all the other smart kids who actually picked up a book every now and then, they never went there. They went to the

library downtown instead. So, why was this old beast still around? Who knows? Ezekiel Renfield, whoever he was, must have left quite a grant for it to sit there and collect dust. Maybe it's where the judge used to study for his law exams a hundred years ago. I walked up the stairs and found a tired-looking security guard watching me on the other side of the glass. He pushed to open the door, asked me what I wanted, and let me inside once I mentioned the judge. I walked inside and heard the door shut. behind me. The security guard was now outside and about to walk down the steps. Hey, aren't you

sticking around? You joking with me, kid? They don't need a security guard during the day, much less at night. Are you afraid of some books? He trotted down the stairs without waiting for a reply. Okay, great. Bad place to myself. I led out a whoo, and looked around. I was standing. I was standing. on a dark red carpet worn down to the threads on the walkway. There were a few desks or chairs, and all along the walls were freestanding bookshelves. There were no electric lights, just a huge window high up on the wall. The mezzanine loomed above, staircase to it off to my left. There looked to be a few more tables and bookshelves up there, as well as a green, bronze statue of a man resting his hand on a sword hilt while he gazed out the giant window.

Well, hell, I thought. This place is huge. I didn't know where to start. So I found the janitor's closet, pulled out a broom, and began to sweep. Within minutes, I had a pile of dirt big enough to jump on. I scooped it up, dumped it in a can. Then I swiped a cloth across one of the tables. Snowfall of dust fell on to the freshly swept floor.

Well, maybe housekeeper wasn't my housekeeper. Forte. I decided to take a break, having been on the job for all the ten minutes. I strolled through the shelves, looking at the occasional book spine. Now, I never been much of a reader, unless you count comic books. Still, I thought there might be a science fiction novel for me to waste some time with, hopefully with pictures. But I had no such luck.

Instead, I had trouble even reading the titles of recruiting the lewd and low-borns. for tasks unseemly. How to killeth the bothersome. The book of the unseen half. Encyclopedia of spiritual deformities, and so on. I found one I liked and tucked it into the back of my jeans for later. Then another one caught my eye. It was on the top shelf, red and thick as a Bible.

I pulled it out and almost dropped it on my head. It was so heavy. The title was, Her Majesty's Reckoning. Lucky me, this one actually had pictures. They weren't the type of illustrations I usually enjoyed, though. The first one was a woodcut of a man smiling while he set himself on fire. The one after that showed a bunch of little figurines tying someone down in his bed and stabbing him. Yikes.

Mosquito Man versus Supercat, this was not. I tried to put the book back, but it slipped out of my hands and thumped to the floor. That's when I heard it. A long, shh, coming from the other side of the room. I froze and listened for it again. Nothing. I walked out from between the shelves and called out. Hello?

No response. I looked up at the mezzanine. The statue looked straight ahead, arrogant. Clouds hid the moon through the window behind it. Is anyone here? This time it was more forceful. I squinted and tried to see in the darkness between two of the bookshelves. There was another statue there.

It was a man with a powdered wig like the kind George Washington and all those guys used to wear. Pouds moved on and the moonlight shone down. It wasn't a statue. It was a real man. only his face didn't have skin on it. It was just a bunch of veins and muscles with lidless eyes and lipless teeth. I tripped over my own feet going backwards. I looked up from the ground and the man was gone. What? What happened to you? Are you okay? Something scraped the floor behind me. I spun around to see a girl about my size turned around and sliding back.

backwards while dragging her heels on the marble. The back of her head was braided up in two ponytails. She wore an old green dress that was tattered and dirty, her flexed hands open and shut as she came towards me. Suddenly, she started barking, jerking her head forward as she did so. She looked like she was doing it to the shelves since that's where she was facing, but I knew it was meant for me. She was only a few feet away now, but I was only a few feet away now, but I still couldn't see her face, but I could see spit all flying from her mouth as her barking grew more and more vicious. That was plenty enough for me. I ran towards the door expecting it to be locked, but it flew right open. I ran all the way home. My dad was still awake. I could tell he was about to lay into me, but then he saw the look on my face.

He just shook his head and muttered. I was. But that was. But that was. But that was. I was. I was about. about the extent of the good news. I hung my head and shuffled off to bed. I let a few weird statues and some barking prankster scare me away. Now I wouldn't be able to leave on that ship. The only place I was headed was jail. Once that judge heard about what happened. He didn't do it, though. In fact, I'm not sure he even remembered me. I sat in the galley with about 20 other miscreants and scurried in front of him when my name was called. He read over my statement, shrugged, and told me to be on my way. Hope you.

He didn't look up, called out for the next defendant. Well, I wish that was the end of my story, but it wasn't. Later that night, after a dinner of beans and biscuits, I sat up in the attic studying. Yeah, that's right. Studying. My experience in the library notwithstanding, I was beginning to realize the importance of education. I took a break to lean against the wall and stare out the round attic window. The streets were quiet and the lights and all the houses were dim.

Then I saw her, the barking girl from the library. She was still turned around and I couldn't see her face. I almost grabbed a hammer or anything else for a weapon, but I thought the better of it. I knew what she was there for. I went down the stairs and snuck past my parents in the den. I jogged down the streets. The girl was gone. Then I heard a single, sharp bark behind me.

She was within arm's reach. I could see the back of her neck now. It was reddish and raw. Like there'd been a rope-tut. She wasn't barking, but I could hear her rattled breathing like her lungs were full of rocks. I held out the book I had taken from the library. The girl stretched her arm back behind her. It was an awkward angle, but she snatched the book with ease and brought it back in front of her.

Then she began to turn her head to the side, very slowly. But just before I could see her profile, she jerked her head back and sprinted off into the darkness. So, my lovely grandson, that was, without a doubt, the most formative experience in my life. In case you're wondering, I did make it onto that cargo ship. It was a rat-filled, seasick-inducing yuck-fest of a journey. But, at least I got paid. Not long after that, I got drafted into the army. Luckily, I was never in actual combat, though few friends that were.

I met your grandma when I got out. I tried hard to give her and your dad a good life, but that wasn't all I could do. I had restrictions. You're probably wondering what the hell I mean. If you found this letter, then you will. Love you, kid. And remember, don't shoplift.

Grandpa. At the time, I didn't quite know what to make of it, except that it was an entertaining story. The lines at the end about restrictions baffled me, though. And that's when I took a closer look at the folded yellow pieces of paper sitting innocuously in the cigar box, the ones marked with strange hieroglyphics.

It took me years to decipher them all. But when I did, I nearly fainted at the magnitude of my discovery. Apparently, my grandfather had torn some pages out of the book he'd taken from the library. A gutsy move, to be sure, and had the wraith discovered his trickery, I wouldn't exist today. But she didn't. The rules the papers described were very clear. Whoever finds these spells curses himself if he uses them, as well as his child.

But the child of his child? He can use them all he wants. one of the idiosyncrasies of magic, I suppose. The book's title, as written on the top margin, was Spells for Luck at Games of Chance. I thought it sounded downright silly. After I'd won the lottery twice in a row, I began to think otherwise. I'll never forget how hard my grandfather worked to give me this advantage. And I also keep in mind the kindness and love he showed his own family,

even though his bank account rarely reached four digits. I do spend a lot of money on myself, I'll admit. I like the nicer things in life. But I also make sure I give to charity, including a very generous yearly gift to the Ezekiel K. Renfield Public Library. The discovery of a brutal crime in our next story is a seemingly unprovoked attack.

However, as author S.H. Cooper reminds us, every act of cruelty has consequences. Performing this tale are Atticus Jackson, Corinne Sanders, and Alexis Bristow. The nature of bullying is as ugly as putting lipstick on a pig. Except for the whole murder thing, Courtney James seemed like a lovely young woman. She was bright, articulate, a dedicated college student, and well-liked waitress at a popular restaurant. I met her when she was sitting in an interrogation room at the precinct. She was a bit on the larger sign, dressed conservatively in pastel colors and minimal makeup. And when I came in, she introduced herself with a polite smile, as if we were meeting for a job interview as opposed to a police investigation.

She had declined to have an attorney present, so I got right to business. You understand why you're here, Miss James. I asked both to get it on the record and to verify for myself. It wasn't often that I met with such calm people. Yes. Officer Claren't, I believe, explained it to me. He was very nice. Good, good. I'm sorry this has turned into such a mess.

And she really did look apologetic. Not so much over what she'd done or even getting caught, but over the fact that we were now having to take our time to piece together a case against her. I definitely need to get a psyche valve done on her. Why don't you tell me about this mess? Help me understand what happened. I thought you'd know already. Isn't that why I'm here? Yes, but I'd like to hear your side. Oh, you mean like why I did it? Yes. She glanced contritely down at her hands, which were folded in her lap, and sighed. Because no one else was going to.

Excuse me? She was just going to be allowed to keep on doing what she was doing, and no one was going to stop her. She looked up, and for the first time, I saw a glint of something dark flashed through her eyes. It vanished with a blink. So I did. In order to move things along, I decided to get a bit more direct with my questions. I flipped open the folder in front of me and took out a photograph to slide across the table to Courtney. You know this girl?

She nodded. I did. Melissa Delhaines. How do you know her? I killed her. She said it so plainly. Like it was just a routine part of her day. Why?

She was a classmate and a customer at the restaurant where I work. You see a lot of other students and customers. Why her? Because she wasn't a good person. Getting Courtney to talk in more than short, semi-vake sentences was a challenge. While she didn't seem remorseful over what she'd done, she also wasn't eager to discuss it. After a frustrating hour of back and forth, that when she gave me a little new information, I opened the file again and tossed another picture in front of her,

one of her deceased victim as she'd been found at the crime scene. Let's start over at the beginning. Where'd you get the pig face? My uncle's a butcher. I took it from his shop. And why did you take it? Because I finally actually wanted to do it. what she was always saying I did.

Which was? Courtney squared her shoulders and met my gaze steadily. Put lipstick on a pig. The darkness appeared in Courtney's eyes again, and this time, it remained. A single tear slipped down her cheek and she wiped it away hurriedly. She exhaled slowly and smoothed her blouse with exaggerated care. I'm sorry. You must think of being difficult. I don't mean to be.

It's just that it's hard for me to talk about. You understand, right? I understand you killed a girl who, by all accounts, didn't do a thing to deserve it. Then with all due respect, detective, all accounts are wrong. Unless you tell me what happened, it's all I've got to go. Courtney leaned forward, her fists resting on the table, and her previously pleasant expression was consumed by one of the first. of trembling hurt and anger.

The perception that Melissa had been a good person acted as a switch, and the floodgates opened. Once she started talking, she barely even paused for breath. Courtney had met Melissa in college during one of their second year courses. Initially, she seemed nice enough when Courtney was still willing to share her work, but that changed once Courtney grew a spine and told Melissa to stop being a parasite. Melissa, as Courtney put it, started an all-out smear campaign, claiming that Courtney was trying to get her in trouble by accusing her of cheating.

She went to their professor and said that Courtney was harassing her and threatening her over an assignment they'd done as part of a group, claiming that Courtney was going to try and take credit for doing all the work and leaving her to fail. The professor had documented the incident and told Courtney that she needed to make sure everyone in the group was treated fairly. He didn't say that Melissa had complained, but Courtney knew. Mutual friends and classmates slowly started to alienate Courtney,

going quiet when she would come near and leaving her out of conversations. They stopped inviting her to join them for outings, and getting into a group for projects became almost impossible. It was like being in my high school gym class again. Nobody wanted me on their team. I was just put in that last spot that needed to be filled. When Courtney finally cornered a classmate that she had previously been close to, the girl admitted that Melissa had told them how awful Courtney was being over a few copied homework answers,

and that she was worried that Courtney might escalate it. Courtney didn't even have a chance to give her side. They'd all already decided Melissa was the victim. Courtney had resigned herself, as she had done a number of times in the past, to being the subject of cruel rumors and ridicule. She had thought she could handle it. Things changed when the start of a new semester brought with it a transfer student, Kyle. Courtney admitted she developed a crush on him after they became casual acquaintances

and started dressing up a bit more when she knew she'd be seeing him. Melissa noticed and upped her harassment. You can put lipstick on a pig, but it is still a pig. It became a running joke that a... few others got in on. They'd oink and snort quietly at her, make thinly veiled pig comments if she was within hearing distance, and sometimes she'd find half-used tubes of lipstick left on her desk along with crude drawings or photos of pigs. It's all so high school, isn't it? Courtney asked me dejectedly.

I had thought that kind of behavior would be behind me, but nope. It just ended up being the same hands of people with different faces. Courtney had thought she was safe from their harassment outside of classes, but it soon followed her into work. Melissa started asking Kyle to join her at the restaurant during Courtney shifts and would complain to him that they were getting poor service because Courtney had an unfounded grudge against her. Management overheard and reprimanded Courtney, despite her protests. Whatever interest Kyle might have had in her quickly vanished. Courtney couldn't say when exactly she started planning to kill Melissa, or even if that was what she intended. She wanted to hurt her, yes, humiliate her, of course.

But kill? That just kind of happened. As she'd said, Courtney had taken a pig's head from her uncle's shop. At first, she'd only planned to leave it at Melissa's house to scare her. But that didn't seem like it would be enough. Not after what she'd done. She started to put together a plan of revenge that would make it so Melissa never treated anyone so badly again. A few Google searches had taught Courtney how to skin the head well enough to take the flesh off in sizable strips,

which she then stapled together into a rough mask using a borrowed staple gun. She hid the skin in her freezer. It took a few more days of waiting, but soon an opportunity presented itself that Courtney couldn't pass up. It was after an evening class when she caught up to Melissa on her way through the parking lot back to her car. They were alone. It was dark. And Courtney was angry. She smashed Melissa over the back of her head with a rock and dragged her into her car, where she bound her hands and feet. Melissa was still unconscious when they got back to Courtney's apartment. I tied her to a chair and gagged her and then waited for her to wake up.

She was surprised to say the least and nervous. I told her I wasn't going to hurt her, but I think we both knew I was lying. She started to cry. I had thought maybe I'd feel a bit bad if she did that, but I didn't. I told her exactly how miserable she'd been making me, how I'd lost friends and was on thin ice at my job. She mumbled something, maybe an apology, but I couldn't understand through the gag. Honestly, detective, I didn't really care. She'd taken the pig mask out of the freezer and forced it over Melissa's head.

When it kept flopping awkwardly, Courtney decided to get the staple gun out again. Melissa was screaming, but it was muffled and I didn't worry too much about anyone hearing. It only took a few staples and then the mask looked mostly right. It was only missing one thing. Courtney had smeared lipstick all along the pig. mouth. I used the tube she and her friends had left me. It seemed wrong to waste them. She was still crying, but I couldn't see her face anymore. Just the pig. She'd been right about the lipstick. It didn't help it look less ugly. And then what happened? Courtney finally paused. She looked

uncertainly down at the table and shrugged. I don't really know. I mean, I know I killed her, but I hadn't really meant to at first. I was sitting there looking at her, and suddenly it felt like anyone could be under the mask. Old bullies, mean teachers, bad bosses, anybody. I guess I'd let some resentment build up. So what did you do? I shot her a few times with the staple gun.

The frankness of her statement was almost chilling. She was moving around a lot and fell over. The next bit is kind of a little. blur. I don't really remember it very well. I know I must have gotten a knife from the kitchen. I know I stabbed her. I just don't remember it.

You don't remember killing, Melissa. Not really. I do remember her lying there with a pig face in all of this blood. It was horrible. I knew I'd really made a terrible mistake. It shouldn't have gone that far. So I took a shower.

You took a shower? Yes. She was already dead. I was covered. in blood, ten more minutes wasn't going to change anything. I called the cops right after. And that was last night? Yes, probably around 10, 10.30. Do you have anything else you'd like to add to your statement? Courtney shook her head.

No. Maybe that I'm sorry? I don't know. I guess it doesn't matter. I shuffled my notes and put them into the case folder, which I tucked under my arm as I stood. Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. James. An officer will be in to start processing you. As I turned to go, Courtney spoke up once more. Detective. I have turned towards her and she forced a sad smile. What do you expect people like me to do? We can only take so much, right? Should I have killed myself? Would that have been a better answer? No. Then what should I have done? No one ever listened. No one ever helped. It wasn't going to end. What was I supposed to do? I left her when the processing officer came in. Courtney continued to look at me, helpless and a little

defiant, waiting for my answer even as I was walking out. But I didn't have one for her. Even now, after her trial is done and she's imprisoned for the rest of her natural life, I still don't. And I wonder, if that's a small crime all on its own. Your time in our netherworld has moved 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-sleeppodcast.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 trade. of Creative Reason Media, Inc. No duplication or reproduction of this audio program is permitted without the written consent of Creative Reason Media, Inc.