The NoSleep Podcast - NoSleep Podcast - Sleepless Decompositions Vol. 02

Episode Date: March 21, 2021

Welcome to our second sinister specimen of the terror tales we call Sleepless Decompositions. These are one-off, original horror stories which are created or curated in-house.   “The Sadism Method��� written by Olivia White (Story starts around 00:04:20) TRIGGER WARNING! Produced by: Phil Michalski Cast: Narrator – Sarah Thomas   “Flesh of the Idiots” written by Olivia White (Story starts around 00:19:00) TRIGGER WARNING! Produced by: Phil Michalski Cast: Abi – Mary Murphy, Billy – Kyle Akers, Keith – Graham Rowat, Denny – David Cummings, John – Atticus Jackson, Colton – Jesse Cornett, Chester – Erika Sanderson, Sarah Jane – Erika Sanderson, News Anchor – Mike DelGaudio   Click here to learn more about the voice actors on The NoSleep PodcastClick here to learn more about our Season Pass program  Executive Producer & Host: David Cummings Musical score composed by: Brandon Boone “Sleepless Decompositions” illustration courtesy of Kelly Turnbull   Audio program ©2021 – 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

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Visit betterhelp.com slash no sleep and join the over one million people who have taken charge of their mental health with the help of an experienced professional. That's better, h-elp.com slash no sleep. Sign up today. This podcast is sponsored by BetterHelp, and No Sleep listeners get 10% off their first month at betterhelp.com slash no sleep. And now let's delve into some of our sleepless decompositions. To our second sinister specimen of the terror tales we call sleepless decompositions.

These are one-off original horror stories that are created or curated in-house. They stand alone like looming monoliths watching over a scorched and barren earth. They can be weird. They can be experimental. They can be risque, dark, confusing. They will be scary and push boundaries. So join us for our second in our second. inaugural decomposition, in which we feature a psychosexual, psychological horror with a supernatural

twist. But we begin with a short tale to whet your appetite for the darkness. When a young woman attends a dinner party with college friends, she's expecting the usual. Conversation, laughter, delicious food, and tasty wine. But there's something in the air. There's a mood permeating the atmosphere. It's almost as if, almost as if something's clouding their... Clouding their minds.

Performing this tale is Sarah Thomas. So let's join her for a party to remember, eventually, if we can recall what we're forgetting. There's folklore about a living earth. tension between the guests, and there's a display of something called the sadism method. I don't know if it was the incense or the booze or the heat in Melinda and Jackson's apartment, but my head felt foggy. I'd noticed the heat when I first got there, like I was entering a sauna. It struck me as odd then, because their apartment was always cold. Jackson liked having the AC on almost all year round. I'd even dressed appropriately for the occasion.

A cute navy-knitted sweater, t-shirt, and a vest over jeans. But tonight it was hot and woozy, and there was incense burning. The smell was nice. Lavender and rose mixed with whatever was cooking. Spinach and ricotta tortellini, I later found out, with a tomato and marscapone sauce and a kale salad on the side. Chibada bread, too. Melinda and I sat in the living room catching up while Jackson finished the cooking.

He's the chef in their relationship. He wants to go into the restaurant business one day when he's done with his post-grad degree. Melinda and I were both undergrads in our final year. Folklore studies majors. It's how we met. That's what we're talking about, actually, our dissertations. Melinda's is a really fascinating concept.

It's about this dead civilization, I forget the name, and their beliefs about how the Earth was once a living, sentient entity but it died and all the creatures living on it and in it are parasites. My head is still foggy, so I can't remember too many details. There's something about how they believe the world had arteries or something, and they're hidden within the matter of the world, but existing over the matter, like parallel antimatter. I don't know.

And the earth has genitals, many, many genitals, and they're kind of antispace. something about holes in the world, and that's how the Earth reproduced. It's absolutely wild. I wish I could remember the name of the civilization. I've read a book on it. You'd be interested. You could Google it. You're not interested, are you?

I was, though. She was telling me about some more she'd discovered, something that could really make her dissertation. Put her on the map as an anthropologist before she'd even finished school. I told her that it sounded amazing and that I wanted to tear her tongue. out because it made me feel insecure about my own dissertation, which I was struggling with. She poured us both a second glass of wine and told me that was okay. Every time she caught Jackson staring at my ass, it made her want to staple my labia together. Then we laughed about how

adult it felt to have a dinner party, like we were proper adults now, not young adults in our first year of college, living together in the dorm and eating instant ramen every night. Then Jackson said dinner was ready and we sat down to eat, and that's when I found out we were having spinach and ricotta tortellini. I took a few bites and told Jackson it was delicious, so fucking delicious in fact that I wanted to gorge on the entire thing, straight out of the serving dish, just slam my face into it like it was a trough and eat like a fucking pig. I told Jackson that I'd happily eat so much I puked, and he said that as a chef, it was the high, highest compliment he could receive. He told me to watch my weight, though, that I have a tight

smoking bod and he'd be down to fuck if it wasn't for that bitch, Melinda. Melinda threw the wine bottle, and it smashed, and we laughed as the last drugs of wine dripped down the white walls like blood. There goes our deposit, Jackson said, and all three of us chuckled. Sweat had filmed on my brow. I was really hot. I'd eaten around half the meal and I was feeling full, and feeling hot makes it harder to eat more, so I stood up and stripped off my sweater. But I was still hot, so I took off the t-shirt, then the vest, then the bra, because who the fuck wears a bra out of choice? And I realized wearing tight jeans to eat a luxurious dinner was a dumb idea, too, so I removed those as well. Jackson pointed out that I was wearing granny

panties. Melinda pointed out that this is probably why I never get laid, because I don't make an efforts be sexy. And she was right. So I grabbed the bread knife up and sawed through the fabric of my panties on both sides, then pulled them off, bawled them up, and threw them right onto Melinda's plate. Melinda said, well, I guess they're food now, and stuffed them in her mouth and began to chew. But it was obvious she was gagging, so she pulled them out and dropped them on the floor. I was still standing up, and Jackson asked me to do a full turn and show them the goods, so I did. I was also still holding the bread knife, and Melinda suggested I make love to the serrated end, so I was going to do that.

But then Jackson said he didn't think that'd be real sexy, so I put it back and sat down and began to eat some more. Second helping, and my boobs were covered in marscapone sauce, and I was so full I felt pregnant. So I told Jackson that. I told him that his amazing tortellini had replaced the fetus I'd aborted in senior year, so his fantastic cooking was my child now. Melinda told me I'm lucky because she can't have children, and she's never told Jackson that, but she'd rather eat literal shit than have a child with him anyway.

And the only reason she hadn't broken up with him already was because he pays the full rent on their apartment and makes delicious food. In response to this, Jackson raised his voice when he told Melinda that he'd fucked at least three people behind her back in the last year. and I was worried that if he got angry, he might say something hurtful to Melinda. Do you guys argue often? I asked, staring at the flame on the large candle in the middle of the table. Melinda said that, yes, they did use to argue a lot, right up until she got back from her field trip excursion for her dissertation a couple weeks ago.

She said they don't argue anymore because she discovered something that changed their life. She called it the sadism method. What's the sadism method? I asked, hoping that it would change my life too. Jackson said it would be easier to show me than tell me. So he took off his shirt and he was covered with wounds, some fresh and some older. They looked infected, they weren't dressed at all. And when I asked him if they hurt, he said that, yes, they did. And that was the point.

Sadism is the key to happiness, they told me. Melinda came over as I continued to eat my tortellini and showed me some photos on her phone. She was naked and surrounded by awful and blood, and Jackson was forcing raw meat down her throat. Next photo, she was using a garden trial to gouge chunks of flesh from Jackson's torso, the flesh of an idiot.

Next, Jackson was inserting needles under Melinda's nails and into her gums. Up and down, so they followed the path of her teeth. They told me they do the sadism method, and they never argue anymore. It leads to a healthy and balanced relationship. In the next photo, Melinda was beating Jackson with a splintered plank. I looked at his torso again and saw the plank-shaped bruises. They looked recent, and one side of his torso was black, like the flesh was necrotic.

Next photo was a picture of a piece of paper onto which someone had scrawled, Please help me. We keep doing things we don't want to and can't stop. Please get help. And the next one after that was a short video clip of Jackson kicking Melinda so hard in the taint that she puked. These are lovely, I said. Why haven't you posted them on Instagram? Jackson said it was because Melinda was a dumb bitch who didn't think.

and she replied saying it was time for me to see the sate as a method firsthand. Jackson said no. I didn't deserve to see, so I promised not to look. He said I couldn't be trusted not to look. I suggested I'd be blindfolded, but Melinda said no. She had a better idea. She made me lie down on the carpet and hold my eyes open, like I was putting contact lenses in. I'd worn my glasses this evening, so that was fine. I did that. I laid down and helped me. held my eyes open, and Melinda approached with the big candle, and I thought, yes, she's going to do exactly what I was thinking when I saw the candle. And she did. She poured the hot wax right into my eye as I held it open, and then we repeated the process with my left. Then everything

was dark, and I remember thinking, this is wrong. But I think that was just regret because I couldn't see what happened next. I could just hear it. You said before that Jackson looks like he's been eviscerated, and Melinda's in a bad, bad way, and was it the same person who poured wax in my eyes? So, yes, it was. But there wasn't a fourth person like you asked me earlier. It was just me and them, and whatever happened after I stopped being able to see. It is the sadism method.

It is how they stay a happy couple. It works for them, so please don't judge. I don't think I need to go to the hospital. I think my head is just foggy from the incense and the booze and the heat, and we haven't even had dessert yet. But if you really insist, then we'll go. It does feel like there's something in, might. Wait, did Melinda just die?

Did she die? I swear, I felt her die. I swear, I feel my head's clearing and... Well, that was... I don't know what to say about that one. Certainly a strange story to... Oh, hold on. Hello!

David, it's Nicole. I need your help. Hi, Nicole. How's it hanging? Listen, I need your help with my home. I'm worried. Worried about your home? I know how you feel. Spring is here, and it's time to start getting things in order around the home. And that includes insurance.

Insurance? Well, that might help, but it's more than that. Why not get a head start by revisiting your home and auto insurance with PolicyGenius. When people have shopped around for home and auto insurance, PolicyGenius has been able to save them up to $1,000 per year. Those are great savings, but it's not so much about my home or auto. You see, it's my neighbors. They're acting so...

Neighbors, sure. They can use PolicyGenius too. Here's what you do. First, head to PolicyGenius.com and answer a few quick questions about yourself and your property. Then PolicyGenius takes it from there. They'll compare rates from America's top insurers, from Progressive to Allstate to find your lowest quotes. The PolicyGenius team will look at all the ways to maximize your savings,

including bundling your home and auto policies. If PolicyGenius finds a better rate than what you're paying right now, they'll switch you over for free. That kind of service has earned Policy Genius a five-star rating across over thousands of reviews on TrustPilot and Google. That sounds super easy. I will definitely check them out, but I'm not sure my neighbors are going to be interested in an insurance.

Why is that? Who doesn't want to make sure they have the best home and auto insurance at the best rates? It's just that they're acting so strangely lately. Doing weird things to each other, mentioning something called the sadism method. It's freaking me out. I wouldn't worry about it. Sounds like a fun game.

There's nothing fun about what? what they're doing. The screen? The mess? Well, that's what spring cleaning is for. So while you're gearing up for spring cleaning, don't forget to dust off your home and auto insurance policies with PolicyGenius. Reshop your rates and you could save up to $1,055. Head to PolicyGenius.com to get started right now. I will for sure. Honestly, I just don't think my neighbors will.

Oh, dear, I can hear them again. I, uh, I gotta go. Hmm, she hung up. Ah, well, I know she'll get a great rate on her insurance with policy genius. When it comes to insurance, it's nice to get it right. And speaking of getting it right, let's get right back to the horror. Our feature presentation. We join Abby and Billy on a camp out in the woods.

They've been childhood sweethearts for as long as they can remember. Tonight's the night they make their relationship official. Life can be short and fleeting after all. But when a stranger emerges from the woods, their romantic plans go awry, and things only get more bizarre from here. I join Mary Murphy, Kyle Lakers, Graham Rowett, Atticus Jackson, Jesse Cornett,

Erica Sanderson, and Mike Delgado in performing this tale. So let's wish everyone well and try to clear our heads as we listen to this tale of true romance and visceral violence, in which we remember how unfamiliar people can be with their own bodies and minds, in which we recall all those thoughts we have, those dark, intrusive thoughts, like standing on the edge of a cliff and wondering what would happen if we just jumped. All too often, the answer is that we'd end up as bloody chunks on the rocks below. Bloody chunks of the flesh of the idiots. I'd always had a crush on Billy Lasseter.

We'd grown up together in a small rural farming community, a few families occupying a lot of land. It was no surprise that we were raised close. We were the same age, had the same interest, farming, the outdoors. D'Orce, cheesy old movies. And Billy Lasseter had always had a crush on me, too. All throughout our teenage years, neither of us acted on it. Even when our hormones were raging, we both stayed single and friends,

as if waiting on something we'd both formed an unspoken agreement about. When we both graduated high school, Billy stayed home to work on his father's ranch. I always intended to do the same. one day working with my father and stepmom on our ranch in an administrative capacity. So there was no anxiety between Billy and I that I'd drift out of his life. Looking back, it was the most relaxed platonic courtship imaginable. Neither of us suffered from jealousy or fear that the other would find someone else. As cheesy as it sounds, we knew we were meant to be together

and accepted there was no rush in getting there. After all, a treat savored is all the more sweet, right? Before that, though, before we settled down, I wanted to see something of the world. Not too much. The next dayed over was enough for now, but it's why I made the decision to leave and go to college while Billy stayed behind.

It was a spring semester of my second year at college, when it happened. I was living with two other roommates in an apartment in the city. It wasn't the nicest area. So we were all very vigilant about personal and home security. That didn't stop the guy, tweaked out on meth or bath salts or some shit, breaking into our apartment at just past midnight one Friday night. He had a gun and a knife,

and I'd thank whatever gods are out there that we were all awake when he broke in. It could have been worse. It could have been a lot worse. The man was clearly delusional, ranting about someone we could never pinpoint. From what I could gather, he'd followed this someone into our apartment and wanted us to tell him where they were. Of course, none of us had the first clue what he was talking about.

What followed was a very tense, very terrifying half hour as I stared down the barrel of a gun, thinking about all the things I wouldn't get to do before I died. Long story short, Dillie was top of that list. the incident made me realize that fate had no interest in our romantic notions. Either one of us could die tomorrow without ever telling or showing the other one that we love them. It wasn't long after the police had carted the man, apparently a total normal barista until he snapped one day, away in handcuffs, that I began planning.

I'd finish the semester, give myself time to digest the idea, and I'd finish my degree too. At that coming summer vacation, I'd travel home and spend every waking hour I could with the man I loved. And, if Billy felt the same, I'd damn well take him to bed. We'd waited long enough. Pilly was extremely enthusiastic about the idea. And that's how on my second night home, I found myself camping alone with my childhood sweetheart, in a clearing some 40 minutes away from the ranch he shared with his dad and some ranch hands.

by 8 p.m. After spending the day at the Lasseter Ranch, we'd set up camp, just the one tent. No pretense about what we were out there to do. We'd been alone since six, and somehow the pair of us had managed enough restraint not to jump each other there and then. There'd been plenty of fondling and kissing,

again something we'd both refrained from previously. But after waiting so long, there was no harm in making sure the mood was just right. As long as it's straight after dinner, I caught myself thinking as I watched Billy, pear-chested in the heat of the summer evening, stacking logs to keep the fire going. He caught me looking and gave me a sly smile. Yeah, I've been working out. I laughed.

Working on the ranch kept anyone in exceptionally good shape. Lifting the hem of my t-shirt, I patted my own stomach. How about me? You think college life is making me soft? Billy came over, brushing his chestnut hair out of his eyes, and kissed my forehead. You've always been soft. I reached up and caressed his taut thigh through his jeans, moving my hand higher until it brushed his crotch. And you're not.

Gosh. What can I say? Billy gave me a cheapish, yet winning smile. You bring out a little bit of the same. the best in me. Tonight's been a long time coming. Let's hope you are too then. I bit my lip, part out of seduction, and partly to choke back the childish giggle that threatened to spill. It was low-hanging fruit, but I'd never professed to be sophisticated. That's beneath you, kiddo. Billy ruffled my hair and a facsimile of the gesture as father would do to me, even now when I was 20 years old.

both Billy's dad and mine, my mom too, treated us like their little kids, even when they didn't. For all the talk of responsibility in growing up, they were always keen to see us embrace our youthful sides. In fact, I'd even been slightly worried when Billy and I had announced our plans to go camping together alone, even though the prospect of the pair of us one day getting married and starting a family together had been a given to our family since time immoral. worried that this would make it seem too real, that Pa would get defensive of his little girl, that things would change between my family and the Lasseter's. Instead, when I told Pa a mom, they okayed it with barely a comment, and I was sure I'd seen them exchange a knowing look with

each other. When I'd raise these concerns to my brother John later, he just laughed. I think we're all just relieved that the pair of you are finally going to hook up. So that was that, our tears in the woods had everybody's blessing. In the time between my brief hostage situation and the camping trip, I'd realize something else pertaining to my reticence thus far to be physical with Billy. The idea of intimately exploring another person, emotionally but especially physically, was tremendously overwhelming to me, not in a bad way, not out of fear or anxiety, the complete opposite, in fact.

To explain this, I need to share something about myself that as girls were conditioned never to talk about on pain of being social pariahs. I engaged in a lot of masturbation as a teenager. I mean a lot. As soon as the desire to do so awakened in me, fairly a day went by when I didn't explore my body in some way. Sometimes it wasn't even sexually. I'd find myself running my hands over my belly button, cupping one breast in my hand, tracing, the contour of my nose with my fingertips. And of course I explored myself sexually too. Touching myself between my legs and creating pleasure responses never seemed to get old.

Feeling inside myself, pushing the limits of pressure and penetration, becoming intimately familiar with my own body. It's weird when you think about this. We go through our entire lives with our bodies as an integral part of ourselves. And yet there's so much that belongs to us that we never get to touch or see. I'll never see my own heart, or feel the inside of my stomach. I'll never explore my ribcage, or know what texture my small intestines, and this is something I dwelled on, maybe too much. It did, and still does, make me feel like our bodies don't fully belong to us, not really. When I was a little kid, I had my appendix removed. As such, surgeons have seen more of me than I ever will. And for most of us, even when we

die, the final thing that happens to our bodies before burial or cremation is that someone will cut us open and explore our organs and see and feel things that we never get to experience ourselves in our lifetimes, even though they are us. So the point was, I felt very passionately about becoming as intimately familiar with the accessible parts of my body as I could, and the idea of being able to do this with someone else and have them do it to me. Well, it was tremendously intimidating and exciting in equal measure. So I guess I wanted to build up to the moment I felt Billy inside of me, touching places that only I had touched before.

If you're thinking, hey, Abby, that's not romantic, it's creepy. then trust me, I know. My entire worldview has changed very dramatically since the night Billy and I went camping, since he came into our lives. One thing led to another, and Billy and I had reached that inevitable point in a camping trip,

where we were sitting around the bonfire, trying to cook sausages. We sat opposite each other so we could make eye contact while we talked, sharing, well, everything. Billy bit into his perfect, golden sausage, while I raised a charcoal, pathetic specimen on the end of my skewer, and waggled it in his face. I'll admit, cookouts have never been my strong suit. Philly opened his mouth to say

something. When a very loud rustling sounded from the forest on the edge of the campsite, clearly the noise was being made by something very large heading our way. Now, beyond this forest was a small mountain. We'd often trek up it. And from the top, the scenery was breathtaking, but it was in a remote location, on private property, and it was extremely unlikely that anyone would be hiking through the forest. Plus, the only people in the vicinity knew exactly what Billy and I were out there to do, and none of them would have wanted to risk my wrath at an interruption. Mountain lion? Philly shook his head, and to my relief, perhaps,

we didn't have to wait any longer to see the identity of our intruder. It was a person. A stranger, as soon as he came stumbling out the forest, I could tell I didn't recognize him. He swayed towards us, Billy rising up to meet him. I could see Billy's fist were clenched white. The man moved forward another step, staggering. Then as he reached Billy, the edge of our fire pit,

he collapsed to the floor and sat there, staring dazed into the flames. A few things struck me immediately about our guest. One, he was a stranger. If we are the neighbors ever had visitors, we told each other. Close-knit, new faces, you know? Secondly, he was not dressed as one might expect one to be in the wilderness. He wore a dress shirt in dark gray slacks. He looked like he'd stepped straight out of an office.

Thirdly, he was soaking wet, I mean drenched. Water was dripping off his clothes in rivulets. His shirt stuck to his body, pink flesh slightly visible beneath. His hair, dripping wet, was slicked to his scalp. His brown leather shoes were water-locked. We're talking just fell in a lake wet. Here's the thing. There were no bodies of water nearby.

Not even a little stream, as far as we knew. There was a lake on an adjacent property. But that was far away. Far too far for someone to still be dripping wet had they fallen in. My next thought was the Lasseter Ranch. There was water there, of course. But even in Billy's Jeep, it had taken us 40 minutes to get where we were. Even if this guy had somehow broken into the house and got in the shower fully closed,

he wouldn't be as wet as he was. The only possible way for anyone to be that dripping, as if they'd been fully submerged mere moments ago. rain would do it, of course, but there'd not been a drop. What's more, it hadn't rained for over a month, to the point where we were expecting a drought. With the heat we'd been having, there was no chance at all that any rainwater remained on the land.

Billy, his gaze instantly softening, hurried over to the guy. Hey, pal, you okay? You hurt? The guy stared vacantly. Where? I'm... Where am I? Uh, you're... you're on my property, I guess? Philly seemed to be floundering for words. In the countryside?

The stranger looked genuinely confused. His dark eyes shone in the firelight. And by the glow of the flames, I could see it was incredibly pale. Like the color had drained from his... cheeks and fright. Despite the heat of the fire and the balmy evening, he was shivering. The water on his skinning clothes was already beginning to dry, leaving behind a translucent, chalky film. Yeah, Guy, you're in the countryside. It's, heck, are you okay? Where did you come from? I'd moved over to the stranger now, too. And Billy and I flanked

either side of him. I became suddenly aware that I was only wearing a thin t-shirt and shorts, pedware, and crossed my arms over my breast. I came. I came from underneath. Underneath? It was. There was water. I couldn't breathe.

It was dark, cold. Then I was swimming, swimming up and out. I came out the well. I came out the well, and now I'm here. I looked at Billy quizzically. There was a well nearby, but it was in the central driveway of the Lasseter Ranch. We had one on our property, too.

But POD filled it in years ago, before I was born. Unlike ours, the Lasseter well did have water in it. However, it was only a foot deep and purely decorative. Back when we were kids, Billy's dad Denny would toss a nickel into it every morning before work. And then at the end of each month, Billy was allowed to fish the money out and keep it. I'd always found it a strangely romantic notion, having a wishing well, one at odds with Denny Lasseter's otherwise gruff, salt of the earth personality. There was no way this was a well the stranger had come out of, though. It was too far for one thing, and there was no opening down to the earth, just a pool.

Don't think there's any wells here, bud. Billy glanced up at the mountain. I remembered then that there was a network of caves up to the lake. there, mostly unexplored due to the danger of collapse. Sure, it was possible that some kind of underground well or pool could exist deep within, but what's your name? I wanted to change the subject. The guy stared into the fire. I noticed that not once had he looked at Villiarai since his sudden intrusion. For a long time, he was silent, and I almost gave up hope on him answering. Then, Keith

My name's Keith I think Okay Keith Well, are you hurt Keith Keith shook his head Almost imperceptibly

Keith Miller Well, okay You sure you're okay You gave us quite the scare there, pal Keith Miller I'm Keith Miller Keith Miller Keith Miller

Keith Miller Keith Miller Keith Miller, okay but we got it Keith Miller I'm Keith Miller Billy and I shared a look Serptitiously I tried to examine Keith from a distance

looking for evidence of a blow to the head Other than being soaking wet He seemed clean cut and healthy Albeit disheveled Okay Billy I think we need to maybe call an ambulance Yeah or you know

The other ones No I jumped up the outburst Sorry just No ambulance. Please, I just need... I need to get dry. I need some water.

I'm so cold. Billy rolled his eyes, and I could see the disappointment etched on his face. How much for our romantic getaway. I'll call the house. Let Dad know we're coming in. We can work out what to do from there. Hell, maybe he'll take over and we can get back out here.

I wasn't sure I was still in the mood, but never say never. I went and sat back down on my lock, as Billy wandered around trying to get a cell phone signal. I'll be right back. Silence fell over the campsite. Across from me, on the other side of the fire, Keith was sitting rocking slightly, staring into the flames.

I watched the fire dance for a moment, realizing with sadness that we'd have to extinguish it before leaving. Maybe I could do that while Billy was trying to get reception. Reaching down, I began to pull on the socks I discarded earlier, finished I glanced back up, ready to stand. A scream caught in my throat. Keith was crouched in front of me, between myself and the campfire,

gazing directly into my face. He was so close that if I leaned forward just slightly, our noses would have touched. I hadn't heard him move. Hadn't picked up on any movement whatsoever, but now we perched there on his haunches, staring straight at me with dark, piercing eyes. In the split second I watched before reacting, his eyes widened, not in surprise,

but in something resembling mirth. Very, very slowly his mouth stretched, lips pulling apart over his teeth until his face was split with a grimacing, humorless smile. I could see the muscles twitching in his face, as if somewhere he was fighting the expression. From the back of his throat, He let out a sound. It was high-pitched. Like the toads I used to laugh at in the pond at my grandparents' place. My breath caught in my throat. My eyes widened. My heart thundered. Couldn't tell you why all the sudden. But I screamed then. Screamed and fell back off my log, tumbling onto the earth, hitting my head painfully on a rock that lay buried in the grass. Quickly, I scrambled to my feet. Keith was sitting opposite me, on the other side of the fire.

I looked around, expecting Billy to come running, but there was no sign of him. Had I screamed? I felt suddenly very calm. The idea of screaming, or even being at all alarmed by the incident, seemed alien to me. Keith glanced in my direction. In the heat of the fire, his clothes had almost fully dried. I could smell a strange, stagnant odor throughout the campsite. Eclipsing that of the sausages we'd cooked just before.

There was a look on Keith's face, one of acknowledgement. His lip curled up in a slight smile. Isn't the fire pretty? You ever thought about just sitting in it? I frowned. Had I? It could be interesting, I thought. Feeling the hot, smoldering logs, pressing against my thighs.

My butt? Certainly unlike anything I'd felt before. Don't do it though. Not yet. I nodded. Not yet. He was right. There were other things to do first.

I have to get changed. Can't go back to the Lasseters looking like this. My shirts practically see-through. My clothes were in a pile in the tent. I reached in and pulled them out. Standing close to the fire for warmth. I slipped off my t-shirt, drop my shorts,

then let my panties fall to the ground. I stepped out of them, my bare feet pressing into the warm ground, and kicked the discarded clothes away. It was so warm there, by the fire. The light danced across Keith's face. He regarded me with a sense of amusement. And yet beneath that amusement, I saw something else, something in his wide eyes below the surface.

Was that fear? I frowned. I was sure I'd been meaning to do something, but the heat was so soothing I felt languid, relaxed. Why didn't I get naked in the forest more often? I reached up and cupped one breast, stroking my nipple gently.

Keith laughed. To my right, a stick crunched underfoot. I turned and saw Billy walking into the clearing. He stared at me. Mouth agape. Uh, Abby? What the fuck? He began striding towards me,

concern and a little anger on his face. Suddenly I looked down and realized, as if just waking up, that I was dark-ass naked, standing there in front of a goddamn stranger, playing with myself. Deep, painful heat plushed in my cheeks. I...

The billy had already slowed. Eh, it's all good. He walked over to me, and before I could scrabble for my clothes, pulled me to him, and began kissing me passionately. For a moment, I reciprocated the kiss. I felt his hand travel over my belly, between my legs. A spike of pleasure coursed through me as he touched me just right. No, not here. I wrenched myself out of the bliss, quickly snatching up my jeans and pulling them on, not making eye contact with either Billy or Keith.

Billy looked at me a little dazed, a little spaced out, with his mouth stretched into a strange grin. But like Keith, somewhere deep in his gaze, I detected something I could only describe as fear. That fear was bubbling up inside me now, too. I had never, ever gotten naked in front of other people like this. Never stripped down to my underwear for a drunken dance. Never sent nudes. Hell, I didn't even like letting other women see me naked when I changed for the gym,

and here I'd been stripping off without a care in the world. Not just in front of Billy, who I wanted to see me like this, but in front of this stranger, Keith, who I very much didn't. The two guys didn't seem to care at all, Irrationaly, I felt a surge of anger at Billy for not rushing to my defense, for encouraging it. I hastily covered my breast with a sweater and slid my shoes on. Come on, we're getting this guy back to the ranch. We drove in total silence.

There was nothing I wanted to say anyway. I still burned with the shame of what I'd done. Occasionally, I glanced into the rearview mirror, and every time I did, I saw Keith looking at me. His mouth was fixed in an odd rectangular, half-grin. But I detected curiosity in his gaze, as well as the underlying fear I was now convinced was there. Philly too was acting oddly. Luckily, we were driving off-road, but Billy kept letting the Jeep drift, and more than once I'd had to remind him to steer. It wasn't like him. Billy was a very careful driver. I wondered if he'd secretly down some alcohol. We'd both agreed to remain entirely sober for a first time together,

so the idea he'd done this felt like a betrayal. But I couldn't smell any alcohol on him. It was more like he was just spaced out, delirious even. The only thing I could liken it to was how my roommate back at college would get when she dropped Xanax, something she'd gotten into the habit of doing a lot after our break-in. We finally pulled into the Lasseter driveway. Denny Lasseter's pickup was parked up alongside a tractor, and beside those was a town car I didn't recognize. Billy caught me looking and shrugged. No idea.

Keith's attention was caught by the wishing well in the center of the drive. He stared at it in silence for a moment, then began shaking. Oh well. It's a well. It's a foot deep. Look. Billy walked over and stuck his hand in. Fishing out a shiny nickel. He tossed it to me, and I caught it instinctively. Keith did not seem placated.

He was trembling, eyes wide with fear, but still his mouth was fixed in that odd pained grin. Pipe down, Keith Miller. Just a wishing well. He walked over and delivered a swift kick to one of the large decorative rocks at the base. Billy and I exchanged a glance. This guy was definite.

in a bad way, I decided. Not in his right mind. But then, were we? I still couldn't shake the embarrassment at my earlier exhibitionism. It sort of felt like we'd all been roofied. Only given the circumstances, I knew that was impossible. Keith hadn't eaten or drank anything since arriving. Mushroom spores? It was the best I could come up with. All our inhibitions had been lowered by mushroom spores in the forest. It seemed unlikely, but there had to be some explanation. Then there was all this well-nonsense. In the mystery of where Keith had come from, mushroom spores couldn't have made him soaking wet, far wetter than any water bottle could have achieved. Unless he'd been carrying around an industrial vat of water, he couldn't have done that

to himself. Let's get inside. Philly came over to me and guided me forward. Has he he did so. He reached down and cut my ass, squeezing one cheek hard and intimately. Behind us, Keith must have seen. I pulled away from Billy's touch, annoyed. That wasn't like him either. As we walked up the steps to the front door, I couldn't help but notice that Billy was sporting an erection, making no efforts to hide it. Inside, we followed the sound of voices to the kitchen. Pilly strode in before I could call him back and maybe encouraged him. him to, well, calm down before he did so. Denny and John were standing around, beers in hand, chatting.

When they saw us, they let out various greetings. Good night? Productive, if you know what I mean? Denny Lasseter glanced at Keith. Is it remembering why we'd shown up? Yeah, I guess not. Still, plenty of time. Y'all are both young. I blushed.

While it was no secret what Billy and I had been planning to do, it was extremely unlike the stoic and guarded Denny Lasseter to reference it in that manner. I don't give him a hard time, Denny. John slapped Denny on the shoulder and took a swig of his beer. I frowned. John must be a little drunk. Despite the two being friends, there was usually an unspoken respect that came with any generis.

generational gap. Tenney was his elder, the same generation as our father, and John always spoke to him as such. Remember where you were like at them's age, chasing all manner of pussy all over the town. It's what I'm like now. My eyes widened in horror. Was I am Bizarro town? My brother talking like this to Denny and in front of me? Both of these men were known for their subtlety, their respectfulness. Christ, I've been seeing one girl lately. She does things you wouldn't believe. Ain't got a gag reflex. Let me tell you that much.

I didn't want to hear anymore. Not from anyone, but certainly not from my own flesh and blood. I looked around the room, hoping for an escape. There, previously unnoticed on the far side. by the sink. I saw a woman I didn't recognize. She had her back to me. But beside her on the counter sat a boy of around six years old. His curly blonde hair bounced as he nodded gently, as if to music only he could hear. He was looking at me with a smile fixed on his face. A smile I found all too familiar. The woman turned. In her hand she held a carrot and a grater.

the grater was smeared with orange carrot juice. Just preparing a salad for tomorrow. I looked beyond her at the vegetables strewn across the counter. The woman went back to greeting her carrot into a large bowl. Her face was familiar, but I'd never seen her before. This here's Colton's sister. Sarah Jane. Call me S.J. And this scamp here's Chester.

She ruffled the boy's hair, leaving behind a smear of carrot juice. Nobody seemed to notice or care. She's down visiting for the weekend. The voice made me chump. I hadn't noticed Coulton tucked away in the corner, sitting at the kitchen table. He had sheets of paper spread out all around him that looked to be accounts and receipts. Coulton was Denny Lasseter's right-hand man. He did basically everything around the ranch that Denny couldn't or wouldn't handle himself. Accounts, administrable. etc. And when Denny was out of town, Colton was the boss man, at least until Billy came of age and could take over. Work normally continued until late on the Lasseter Farm. A site like this,

S.J. and Chester, notwithstanding, wasn't unusual at Billy's place. But nothing about this felt usual. Mine, Pilly and Keats' own behavior, coupled with Denny and John's uncharacteristic crudeness, left me feeling like the situation was a dangerous melting pot, a setup for something terrible about to happen. It almost alarmed me to realize just how powerful the fear was that it lodged itself inside my chest. It felt like my mind and emotions were experiencing a disconnect. Like something was telling me it was fine, it was cool, just roll with it.

I cannot begin to explain just how fucking terrifying it is to feel like that. So, this must be the famous trespasser then. We all turned our attentions to Keith. He was lurking in the doorway, regarding the group with a mixture of amusement and panic. That was becoming a theme that night. Yes, sir. Keith Miller. I came up from a well.

Billy had sauntered into the room and was reclining back against a wall beside John. He was nodding sagely, as if Keith had delivered an important truth that explained all. Denny, too, nodded as if this meant something to him. Keith Miller, Keith Miller, Keith Miller, Keith Miller, Keith Miller, Keith Miller, Keith Miller, Keith Miller. I'm Keith Miller. Keith Miller. Keith God damn Miller.

Keith Miller, he's Keith Miller. He's Keith Miller. My eyes darted back and forth between everyone. What the hell was going on? Why were they behaving like this? My own behavior hadn't exactly been explainable, but this felt like it was escalating at a pace I was unable to get a grip on. S.J. finished grating her carrot and placed a solid metal grater on the counter. She began to toss a salad, and Chester sprung down from his perch and yawned.

Well, Keith Miller and Company, I think I'm going to get this till one off to bad. Nice to meet you, Abby. You treat Billy Wright, you hear? Come see me if you need any tips about pleasing a man. I can show you how to be a filthy whore. With that, S.J. bundled Chester up and left the kitchen. I stared, open-mouthed and dumbfounded. You hear that? That's the girl I'm sweet on. Hate to see you go. to watch you leave. Colton, you ever think about tapping that ass? I mean, come on.

She's damn fine. You must have. She's his sister! Colton stood up from the table, his chair clattering backwards, hitting the ground. For a moment, I thought he was going to take a swing at his employer,

and the flash of fury I saw on his face seemed to confirm that. But then he began laughing, manic and chilling. Ain't a man out there with a fine-ass sister Who ain't thought about plowing that pussy With sick horror I realized my own brother was looking me up and down Undisguised lust on his face

No Fucking no What is wrong with you people Is this fucking some kind of sick joke Stop Fucking stop It's not funny It's disgusting

You're all being disgusting I couldn't help it. I was crying. Nobody moved to comfort me. They all just stood there, staring at me smugly. Chan licked his lips. Hey, you weren't so uptight earlier.

Little Miss Prissy got a little cute titty's out for us at the campsite. Keith raised his hand to his mouth in a mock whisper. I even saw her vagina. The others hooded and brayed with laughter. I wanted to puke. I wanted to run screaming into the night and never look back. But I kept telling myself, this wasn't them. Something had happened.

Something terrible. And I seemed to be the only one who was half sane, who was no longer affected by whatever it was. I hoped, anyway, fear that I might suddenly cave and do something mortifying was intense. Instead, I focused all my mind. my energy on somehow, possibly, working out how I could stop this. So tell us about yourself, Keith Miller.

How'd you end up cock-blocking my only son? Well, it's funny, really. I was somewhere with some people, and then I was down in the deep, dark depths, and now I'm here. As he spoke, Keith paced around the kitchen, idly picking up and examining various utensils, like he was browsing a cookware store. You said he came up out of the well, Dad. Ah, our wishing well? No, not that.

Keith's hand found the cheese grater. He raised it to his lips and began to tenderly lick the carrot juice off its steel surface. Hmm, don't know of no wells. I watched, heart beating fast, as Keith's tongue darted pink and slick across a small teeth of the grater. Careful, you'll cut. Before I could finish, Keith began frantically rubbing the grater against his face. For a moment, I froze, not fully comprehending what I was seeing. For a moment, I was sure it was a prank, an act.

He wasn't really, he couldn't really be creating his own face off. From the open bottom of the cheese grater, flex of flesh and blood fell. Gradually increasing in volume as Keith rapidly grated harder, course splatted on the linoleum, and crimson rivers poured over Keith's wrist, staining his white shirt red. His cheeks fell away in thin cylindrical slivers of flesh that rained down on his feet like worms.

The greater was a blur. His lips were torn and ragged and soon disappeared altogether, leaving behind a torn hole through which I could see his immaculate white teeth, now coated pink. The teeth of the grater hit Keith's cheek, and I heard the most sickening sound of metal rasping against bone. He pulled the implement away from himself, and I reched as I saw slick, liquidy gore come away with it,

then dropping to the floor on top of the quivering pile of grated face. For a split second, I thought it was over. It had happened so quickly, and I still just stood there in shock. My whole body convulsing in abject fear. But then Keith adjusted the greater and began to go to work on his left eye socket. With horror, I watched as the teeth carved furrows

through his eyeball which then collapsed, oozing yellow pus down the hamburger meat that had been his cheek. That was too much for me. Letting out a scream, I darted forward. Intending to do something, anything to stop the self-mutilation. But before I'd even gone one step, I felt arms wrapping around my waist. Not polite to interrupt a man when he's talking.

Billy's strong grip held me firm. Keith stopped greeting for a moment and looked at me. And I know, I swear, I saw fear in the one good eye that stared out at me. And I'm sure, I'm certain. that his ruined lips mouthed, help. I could only watch as Keith finished off his handiwork. When he was done, he carefully placed the greeter down on the counter and regarded us with a face that will haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life.

You people are so messed up. Keith Miller's a bit vanilla in comparison, but hey, at least I look good now. He frowned, or at least squished, his destroyed, forehead. Quickly, he grabbed the greater again and gave it a few violent rubs against his throat. When he spoke next, his voice was hoarse and terrifying, perfectly suiting his visage. Well, things are new. People to explore! He gave a swift bow, and I reched as more of his face fell off and splatted against the ground. Then with a sharp laugh, he turned on his heel and darted out the kitchen in the direction of the front door.

Billy's arms fell away from me then, but all the fight had left me. Besides, what could I do? And where could I go? My primary concern was making sure the people I cared about were safe. The cops, I'd call the cops. Being so remote, it would take the county sheriff, an old family friend, some time to get here, but he would come, and it was a step. Where was my cell phone? God damn it, in Billy's cheap.

Landline then. The others were all staring around vacantly. Even Billy was paying me no attention now. With Keith gone, it was like they were lost. I'm hungry. Denny opened a drawer and removed a stainless steel fork. I moved forward to retrieve it from him. I didn't want him suddenly stabbing himself or anyone else.

As I lurched forward, I swayed on my feet. Why bother? He was just hungry. let him eat. My head felt like it was full of cotton candy. Maybe I could leave them to it. It wasn't too late in the evening. Billy and I could go and pick up where we left off.

Suddenly I was extremely, extremely aroused. It was all I could do to stop jumping Billy there and then. No, a voice in the back of my head said, No, this isn't you. You're succumbing, Meanwhile, Denny was staring at the fork vacantly. Before I could react, still in a fugue. He raised a fork to his mouth and bit down on the tines hard. You know how if you bite a fork on accident, you immediately recoil and stop the bite? Denny Lasseter didn't do this. It was as if he had

no awareness of what he was doing. Then he continued biting, biting and chewing the tines of the fork, as if tearing into a tough steak. My own jaw throbbed, and I tasted the metal on my tongue. Denny's eyes met mine, his jaw still working around the fork, and I saw it then, the thing that horrified me the most. Confirmation. Denny knew what he was doing. He knew how much it hurt, and he was terrified. But he kept doing it anyway. He was powerless. He was powerless. He was us to stop. Something had to give. Either the tines of the fork or Denny's teeth.

The fork won. I heard Denny's teeth crunch and splinter. And I saw his eyes widen with fear and agony. But still he kept chewing. Eventually he pulled the pork free with a sucking sound. A dribble of blood ran down his chin. I expected him to spit, to expel the broken shards of teeth. but instead he swallowed hard.

Finally he smacked his lips and spoke in a voice that was gummy and awkward. Just like Mama used to make. At this, John let out a cheer. Then he and Denny collapsed to the ground in a dead faint. All was silent, broken only by the drip, drip, drip of the bosset. That damn thing had always leaves. as long as I could remember. I focused on it for a bit. There was something else, though. Something

else I should be concerned about. White-hot misery broiled in my stomach as like a veil had been lifted. My mind once again grasped the situation I was in. I looked around the room. Sometime during the chaos, Colton had vanished. Denny and John lay prone on the floor. Their chest rising and falling, giving me the only sense of relief I felt. Billy was slumped against the wall, sitting there with his head in his hands. This isn't right. Something isn't right. It's not right, is it, Abby?

We're not okay, are we? I dropped to the ground beside him, throwing my arms around him, my heart breaking. He began to cry. Not right. Right? It was Keith Miller. He came up from the well. He's making us do the things we want to do. I didn't understand what he meant.

Not then. Who would want a bite of pork or grate their own face off? I shared my confusion with Billy. Relieved he seemed to be finally snapping out of whatever enchanted us. It's like, you know, when you stand at a high place and look out over and you get that a compulsion to jump. It's like that. I still didn't get how that related to this.

Years ago, Dad chipped his tooth on a fork. He hurt like a bitch, he said. And ever since he's had this, I don't know, neurosis where he feels the compulsion to do it again. Just bite a fork to remember what it felt like. I thought I was beginning to understand. Maybe Keith, I saw the look in his eyes. So I think he's just as much a victim as we are, had a thing about damaging his face. And you, have you ever just wondered what would happen if you just took your clothes off in front of people?

It's a common one. I felt my face go white. It was an idle thought I'd entertained plenty. To the point I'd told my roommates about it. And it had become a running joke at my expense for like a week. Philly took my expression as an answer. And me? Well, all I've been able to think about today is making love to you.

I've wanted to for a long, long time. So, I guess that's it. The tender way he said it. Making love. Couldn't it help but make me smile sadly. There's something else, though. Something not as good. I've always...

I held one finger up to my lips. No. Shh. Maybe if you don't think about it. out it. Try and force it down. I got to my feet and offered Billy a hand. Come on, we have to do something. Call the cops. Billy took my hand and clambered up. Man, I'm glad I'm not a kid no more. Why is that? I had so many dumb thoughts as a kid. You believe you're invincible back then, I guess. I'd always be thinking of stupid stuff to do. If I'd done half of it, I'd be dead ten times over.

child minds are weird he trailed off at the same time the realization hit me Sarah Jane and her son Chester were somewhere in the house despite every horror movie I'd ever seen telling me otherwise Billy and I decided to split up he'd go call the cops while I went and tried to track down SJ and her son I wasn't too concerned after all none of us had tried to hurt each other yet

just ourselves and it made sense for me to be the who went looking for other people. For some reason, I seemed more immune to the effects of whatever this was than Billy. I was pondering the reason why, as I headed up the stairs. Most of the intrusive thoughts I'd ever dealt with had to do with my body, as per the public nudity one. But the majority of them had been innocuous, little more than curiosity about exploring myself.

Maybe that was why. Maybe I just had no real desire to do some of the, the wilder things that others did, because I was already so fascinated with what I did have and could do. It was as good as an explanation as any. The second floor of the ranch was dark as pitch. I strained to hear any sound that gave away S.J.'s location, but heard nothing. Sarah Jane? I called out softly, almost hoping nobody would hear. At the end of the corridor, which seemed impossibly long in the darkness. A door creaked open.

Chester stood there, framed what seemed to be the glow of lamplight from within. The boy was smiling widely, his eyes impossibly large. He began to do a chick, dancing on the spot to music only he could hear. His limbs flailed and body contorted. But his eyes never left mine. It was like something locked him in place. A central pivot or... The door slammed shut.

I didn't want to. I really didn't. But I knew I had to go down there. Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward. One, two, three. To my left, the door to Billy's room swung inwards, bouncing off something inside with a crash. Instinctively my head snapped in the direction of the sound,

and I screamed as I saw Colton standing there. Eyes vacant yet somehow piercing He opened his mouth and began to sing More shouting than melodic All around the moberry bush The monkey chased the weasel The monkey thought it was good fun The weasel

From the end of the corridor I heard a child's voice join in the song All around the mobby bush The monkey chased the weasel The monkey thought it was good from Pup goes the weasel Colton began dancing on the spot, still sing-shouting at the top of his lungs. Only this time the words had changed slightly.

The monkey chased the weasel. The monkey wants the weasels. The end door blew open now, and Chester came skipping out, dancing and singing, his words echoing Coltons. All around the moppy bushed the monkey. He chased the weasel. The monkey wants the weasel's eyes. Pup goes to weasel. Staring at me, he brushed past and Colton took his hands.

The pair pirouetted out into the corridor, and suddenly the light slammed on. I squinted, eyes adjusting, and in the harsh light I could make out the frantic, pleading expressions on the faces of Colton and his nephew. They sang and danced and grinned, but their wide eyes betrayed a tithe. terrified plea for help, aimed directly at me. But what could I do? They whirled around me like

dervishes, howling their song in tragic mirth, before I even had time to plan my next move. Footsteps from behind alerted me to another presence. I turned and saw Keith bounding up the stairs, two at a time. His face, his skull, was cleared of almost all-mangled flesh now, and the white bone poked out of the bloody halo of his sea. skin like a mask. In the cavern where his left eye had been, I could see torn brain matter. My stomach churned.

His other eye hung loose in the socket, bloodshot and glistening. Kate's voice joined that of Coulton and his nephew. All around the mulberry bush, the monkey chase the weasel. The monkey wants the weasel's eyes. Pop goes the weasel. How was he still alive?

Just how far could be. Bibi pushed while under this thrall. Wimpering, I tried to back away as the three of them danced and sang. The monkey chase the weasel. The monkey wants the weasels. Suddenly, all three stopped. The night was silent. You could have heard a pin drop.

I stared at them, mouth the gap, and they stared back. Never taking his gaze off of me, Keith reached up and began to slide his fingers around his eyeball. This is what you want, isn't it? This is your freaky desire. No! I couldn't see this. Couldn't it handle it? The numbness from earlier was long gone. I felt like I couldn't handle another atrocity without my mind snapping. But trapped as I was in the corridor, I had no choice but to watch as Keith plucked his remaining. eye from its socket. I saw his ocular nerve stretch, then snap with the twang that I'll never forget as long as I live. Plod and eye core oozed down his recently clean skull, pulling in

the groove of his nose. I watched an abject horror as Keith held out the eyeball towards Coulton. Coulton looked at me pleadingly, a madness in his eyes that I knew he'd never recover from should he survive the night. Despite his obvious horror, Colton opened his mouth and allowed Keith to pop the eyeball inside. I saw the ragged nerves hanging over his lips for a moment, before he slurped it inside, bit down, then swallowed hard. The moment Colton finished swallowing, he dropped to the ground in a dead bait. Come on, little bonny lad. Let's go down to the well. For a moment, I thought he was talking to me. Then I remembered Chester.

It was too late. Keith had already scooped him up. He had no eyes, and yet he could still see. Clearly the thing powering Keith, driving him to do what he was doing, operated beyond the limits of the human body. My mind reeled with this knowledge as I thought of all the terrible things he could do to us, all the terrible things he could make us do to ourselves. Before I could react, Keith and Chester vanished down the stairs.

Sobbing, I made a half-hearted attempt to wake Colton, but he was dead to the world. If not for the gentle rise and fall of his chest, I would have assumed he was simply dead. Coulton, quiet, unassuming Colton, seeing him dance and howl like that had somehow been as devastating as watching the others destroy their flesh. Before his time on the ranch,

Coulton had suffered from mental health problems. It wasn't something we talked about, and I knew no real details, other than the fact that he'd had a tough life and lived in constant fear of his previous delusions coming back to haunt him. I guess, in that sense, madness was his intrusive thought.

Weren't we all going mad that night? Briefly, I contemplated searching the upstairs rooms for Sarah Jean, but Keith's words echoed in my ears, down the well. I wouldn't let him hurt Chester. I wouldn't. I thundered down the stairs and made to dash out the open front door,

already shouting to Billy as I ran. But something in the living room caught my attention. John and Denny had apparently roused themselves from their slumber, and were now sitting together on the couch, beers in hand. Their attentions were caught by something on the TV, which they stared at in rap silence. I glanced it over, and instantly wished I hadn't.

I was on the screen. Me from two years ago, my willingness to act on my own intrusive urges had come back to haunt me in a horrifying way. On screen, I was lying back against my pillows on my bed. The camera, which I knew to be my old cell phone camera, was positioned at the foot of the bed, pointing towards me. My legs were spread.

I was entirely naked. It was just about the most explicit position from which one could be filmed. I knew because I had filmed it. In the video, I was using a small vibrator to stimulate myself. I saw my face crease and ecstasy, and my mouth open in a moan, and I thanked God that the camera was muted because I knew the video had sound. I also knew I was about to orgasm. I was intimately familiar with the video that my brother and my boyfriend's dad

were watching so enthusiastically, because I'd watched it myself so many times. That and all the others, studying every movement, every twitch and response, every fold of my skin, every droplet of sweat that glistened on my body. It was part of my exploration. I filmed myself on and off for a few months, since turning 18. I found a thrill in it, knowing those recordings existed, and nobody but me would ever see them. and it helped to study myself, as clinical as it sounds.

I'd been careful, too. Before going off to college, I'd removed all trace of them from my laptop and my phone, but I hadn't been able to bring myself to part with them entirely. I'd saved them to a memory stick and hidden it in a secret compartment in my desk door, believing that my bedroom at home was a one place I could safely store something where nobody would ever go prying. I looked at John, tears welling in my eyes, and revulsion bubbling in my gut. He gave me a, what's you going to do, Shruck?

I've always wondered what would happen if I just leaked them. Send them to friends and family, your college dean, your lecturers. Always been curious how you'd react if I fucked up your life like that for absolutely no reason. Your devoted, protective older brother. I mean, you gotta wonder about this shit, right? On the arm of the couch, I saw John's phone. The video was playing there too, a tiny mirror of what was plastered across the wall in 60-inch-high definition. So he was casting it from his cell.

Cog's word in my brain. Whatever was affecting us at night, I didn't think it should be able to put videos on John's phone out of nowhere. This meant that he'd put them there himself sometime before now, that he'd found my memory stick and copied them over, and had been going around with these damn things on his phone. They were two years old. The memory stick was still in its hiding place. I knew because I checked that day. How long had he had them? How long had I been ignorant of this? Christ? Had he? Had he? Oh, don't worry, Abby. I don't watch them for pleasure or anything.

I'm not something pervert. It could be vids if you doing crack for all I care. I'm just fascinated by the power they give me over you. Well, I never thought I'd do anything about it, but here we are. You're lucky the Wi-Fi is shit in this backwater. Nobody else has seen them. Yet? Mm, part from me.

Old Denny here was pretty keen, I gotta say. Almost like seeing you finger yourself as something he's harbored a secret desire for. What do you say, old man? Denny gave a sheepish shrug. Hmm, you're a fine piece of snatch, Abby. Come on, you know it. If my boy gets to dip his wick in that tight cunt, Jonah fair his old man gets to appraise the goods, no?

This was a moment I realized to that. that there was no recovering from the events of the night. Even if we somehow survived, which I was starting not to care about, none of this could be undone. Even if Billy was wrong with his intrusive thoughts theory, which I was certain he wasn't, there was no taking back what I'd learned about my brother. But worse, I knew from the look in Denny's eyes at what he said was true.

This man, who'd been like a bother to me, harbored sexual desires for me. I knew because I could see the terror. in his eyes and in Johns. The total helplessness is they spilled forth these truths that I was never meant to know. In their eyes, I could see the realization

that far more than I was on the screen, they'd been laid bare. On the television, I was turning over on the bed, getting on my knees. I could recall vividly the feel of the pillow against my cheek, and what happened next? What would happen next on the recording?

There was another 40 minutes left. 40 minutes of my most explicit, intimate exploration video. Despite the fact that they'd already seen too much, I knew there was more for them to see. And with white-hot rage, I yelled. No fucking way! I caught the back of the TV, just as my right hand was reaching around my body on screen.

With a roar of furious rage, I pulled forward, sending the huge set crashing to the ground in a shower of sparks and a billow of acrid black smoke. Tenney and John didn't react. They continued staring at the blank wall where the TV had been, as if their entertainment hadn't just been taken away. When I looked at Denny,

I saw a single tear spilling from the corner of his eye and sliding down into his widely grinning mouth. John's gaze was steel. I hated him in that moment. Hated him more than I'd ever hated anyone. more than I thought possible. That's when I felt something shift in my brain. A thought forming, like a physical thing in my mind, even as it birthed.

I sensed my judgment, clouding, my body going limp, relaxed, my care slipping away. So many atrocities had already occurred tonight. If I killed John, made him suffer for what he'd done. Would anyone think twice? I could get away with it. pinned it all on Keith, the stranger. It was his fault anyway. He'd brought this on us.

I was certain that Denny Lasseter would say nothing accusatory. And well, nobody else had to know. Did they? I'd just plead ignorance to Billy. Play the grieving sister. Cry at the funeral. It'd be easy. I could do it.

And more importantly, I could get away with it. Turning, I made to look for something I could use to make my brother suffer. Despite my fugue, a scream escaped my lips as I saw Keith in the window. His looming skull staring at me with sightless eyes. His jaw fixed in a rictus grin. A sight of him dispelled my compulsion, replacing it with a desire to save Chester and his mother. I wouldn't hurt, John. Whatever came next, I'd just have to deal with.

Without sparing my brother or Denny Lasseter a final glance, I dashed outside. The first person I saw outside was Billy. My heart sank. He was wandering around aimlessly, and I could tell from the glazed expression in his eyes that the fog had to send it again. I caught his wrist as he began to amble towards one of the large barns that housed various farming and dairy equipment. From one of the distant structures,

I could hear the low, uneasy murmuring of the cattle. I wondered if this compulsion could affect animals, too, if they even had intrusive thoughts. I didn't see why not. Humans are only animals, after all. Pilly! Did you call the cops? He looked momentarily dumbfounded,

as if what I'd asked was beyond his comprehension. Then I saw a flicker of life returned to his eyes. Yeah. Yeah. The sheriff's coming. He said it'll take an hour. He said in the meantime to lock the doors and stay safe. I hugged him.

Tonight's been a nightmare. I've discovered some things that I didn't need to continue. I could tell he understood. I've been thinking when it lets me, anyway. This Keith guy, I don't think he's behind this, but I do think it's him. Doing this, I think something... Something else is, I don't know, attached to him. It made sense.

I think it's like a parasite. He's the host, and he's affecting us by proximity. But I think he's a victim, too. I think he had a life before this, a personality. People who love him. We'd already come to these conclusions. I wasn't sure what Billy was getting at. He gripped both of my hands and his.

Abby, I think it needs Keith to do this. I think if it could compel anyone at random, then this kind of thing would just be happening all the time. Plus, it wants Chester for some reason and doesn't seem to be able to just make him go of his own volition. It needs Keith to guide him. My guess is Chester is the next host. And the thing can only change or possess a host

under specific circumstances. Keith was talking about being in a well, deep underground. That's where he's trying to take Chester. My guess is that means something. It all made total sense, but I still didn't understand what Billy was getting at until I did. For it to be anchored to Keith, it needs for there to be a body in some way. It's destroyed Keith's face that kept the rest of him, his mobility intact. Exactly.

So if we destroy the host, we get rid of the parasite. Not just kill. Destroy. The thing had already demonstrated that it could push a human body beyond that, which would normally kill us. We needed to decimate it. But Keith is likely a person, a victim. We'd be taking a human life.

I thought about Keith, how he'd been, until he was now. There was no surviving that. He was a dead. man already. Keith stood by the well. Neither of us had seen him appear, pity a Chester with him. The boy sat in the well. Bravo! You kids are very astute. Most people flail in the dark with no clue as to what's going on, then cut their own dicks off. You'd be absolutely amazed how many people harbor that intrusive thought. Keith stood by the well. Neither of us had seen him appear. Pitya

Chester with him. The boy sat in the well. as if waiting to ride it down. He didn't look happy anymore. He wasn't smiling. In fact, he began crying, something that seemed to irk, Keith. Oh, already? Christ, it feels like it gets shorter every time.

From the way my head was beginning to clear, and how coherent Billy was now, I figured the parasite's grip was fading. But how quickly would it fade? It could still have time to do plenty of unimaginable damage, not least to Chester. We had to act now. To my left, Billy was creeping around just outside the glow cast by the floodlights on the driveway.

Keith's attention was on Chester. I had to keep him distracted. So tell me why. The thing seemed to love the sound of its own voice. So I was counting on it being eager to drop some exposition. I wondered if this was in its nature, or a trade it had adopted from the real Keith. Why? Ha, okay, I'll indulge you.

You creatures are so baffling to us. Always have been. You're so advanced in some ways, and yet so few of you are curious about what it means to be you. You have all these stringy, easily manipulated parts. You have infinite capacity for imagination, and you do nothing with it. And this infuriates us.

With a sinking feeling, I realized I could relate more than I'd expected to. With my own fascination with my body, came a bafflement at how most others were content to just never think about that type of thing. So sometimes one of us gets lucky, and we're able to snare a piece of meat like this. With that, he gestured down at his,

Keith's, body. Then we just crawl up out of our hole and show the rest of you a good time. Give you a nudge in the right direction. This is how you should explain. all the time. It's how you're supposed to exist. I didn't want to consider the implications of his last words. So what are you? The thing that had been Keith waggled a finger at me, then reached up and with a quick wrench snapped it off. I balked as the bone cracked, and the thing tossed Keith's

finger to the ground. That's too much information. But know this. We live in the womb of the world. We travel through its veins, and yet you creatures are her children. But every once in a while, we get to drag one of her precious babies back up inside the world's cunt, and then he's reborn and new. Like Keith Miller here. It's always fun, learning who we've snared. This one wasn't very interesting, though. I prefer women. You've much more fucked-up desires. God, there was one girl I got a few years ago, and you would not believe the thing she idly fantasized about putting inside herself. Of course, I encouraged her to see what it'd be like. I imagine she'd have died of toxic shock syndrome if I hadn't eviscerated her first. Do you know how hard it is to shove your

tits into a garbage disposal? Ever contemplated it? No? You should? Something to look forward to if we meet again. My stomach churned, and I watched in horror as a creature snapped off another of Keith's fingers, this time offering it to Chester, who was crying silently. Where the hell was Why hadn't he tackled this monstrosity yet? What's the matter? Looking for Billy Boy? What do you think he's going to do? With this, the creature turned so it was facing the well.

It's head in line with a pointed stone canopy that Denny Lasseter had installed above it so many years before. Smash! The creature hammered Keith's skull against the stonework. Teeth first. Me? Another thump. A crack.

The skull splinted. Two. Smack. Crunch. Pieces! One final slam against the stone. It sounded wet now. The thing had apparently pierced through to Keith's brain. It whirled around with a flourish.

And I'm just fine. Look, Ma, no face! The entire front of Keith's skull was now just a mess of bone shards and gray matter. His jaw hung broken and useless, attached by one tiny, piece of sinew. The creature reached up and plucked it off, tossing it to one side. In the well, Chester howled in fear. Hasn't even harmed my dulcet tones? Glory, glory, hallelujah, glory, hallelujah. Glory, glory, hallelujah. My face is fucking gone. Keith's voice still emanated from his destroyed mouth.

I'd long since given up trying to fathom how. Oops, time for us to go, though. The creature raised one leg to the edge of the well, as if to climb up and in. How it intended to travel anywhere via a pool a foot deep was beyond me. But it seemed to know what it was doing. And Chester's terrified cries prevented me from clinging on to logic. I did the only thing I could. I ran forward.

I was counting on the element of surprise. I had a distance of meters to cover, and I didn't want the thing to get its defenses up. It worked. The thing clearly hadn't been expecting violent resistance for me. I shoulder barged it with all my might, sending Keith's blood-stained and broken body to the gravel. Quickly, I snatched Chester up out of the well and dropped him to his feet. Run! Run into the house. Then hide. Hide. Good. I'll come find you.

I still had no idea where is my house. mom was. But it'd have to wait. If I could keep the creature from Chester just long enough, Chester gave me one final hesitant look, then fled. The creature was already trying to scramble to its feet, having a hard time due to its missing fingers. I wondered if it regretted doing so much damage. Something told me it wasn't used to puppets who fought back. Quickly, I grabbed one of the decorative rocks from the ground. It was about the size of a melon, very heavy, but I mustered as much strength as I could and brought it crashing down on Keith's Lake.

If I'd been expecting a gratifying howl of pain from the creature, I got none. Clearly it didn't feel the sensations it put its prey through. I just had to hope that somewhere inside, the real Keith was already dead. And if not, then I hoped he understood. The creature had fallen back to the ground and was now trying to write itself again.

No mean feet with a shattered calf. It snarled at me, and its anger appeased me. At least I'd managed something to inconvenience it. You dumb, sow! You slut! I'm going to snip your nipples off of the cigar cutter. I'm going to cauterize your clit with a blowtorch. I'm going to rip off your labia with my teeth.

You don't have teeth. I aimed a swift kick at his throat. And repress the urge to gag, as I felt the toe of my sneaker sink. into the mess of flesh. You don't have teeth. You don't have fingers. You don't have anything. That's it, isn't it?

You don't have a body. You're nothing. And you hate us because we do. We have flesh. And we get to experience touch and pleasure and pain and arousal and agony. And you don't. You fucking don't. And even when you possess a poor sucker, you can't feel it.

So you have to make us feel it for you. In the hope it'll provide some meaning to your pathetic, parasitic existence. I have a party. I'm not nothing. You have no idea. Whatever you are, you're as good as nothing. I kicked him again, this time between the legs. I knew it had no effect on him, but damn it felt good. You're pathetic, impotent. When it comes to existing, you can't get it up.

My word struck a nerve in the creature that no amount of pain ever could. It let out a feral, furious shriek and charged at me. Even with the damage to Keith's body, the thing was fast. It suddenly dawned on me that I was still in very real danger. It still had plenty of ways to hurt or even kill me. I fled. The creature lurched after me, making the best of Keith's broken body. And it was damn fast.

I could hear it thundering just behind me as I darted off the driveway in the direction of the barns. I had no plan, but I knew the barns held all manner of dangerous tools with the ability to maim. It only struck me after I ducked into one of the large looming buildings, that I wasn't the only one capable of wielding a weapon, but I was the only one capable of feeling pain. The creature appeared at one end of a long corridor, lined with machinery. It stood there silhouetted in the doorway. I could see it held a sickle in one hand.

Looking around frantically, my eyes settled on a sledgehammer. I hefted it up. It was heavier than I'd hoped, and my muscles screamed at me as I raised it from the ground, gritting my teeth against a strain. I looked back at the creature. It was gone. I backed around, trying to make out footsteps.

my eyes darting frantically about the dark interior as I tried to pierce the gloom. A sound just ahead of me made me flinch, and I swung the sledgehammer out, connecting with nothing. I stumbled backwards, my shoulder blade catching on something square and metallic. Gingerly, I reached out. It felt like one of the industrial light switches that were dotted about the barns, silently praising my good fortune. I yanked the heady switch down. Instantly the overhead halogen lights flickered,

then exploded into life. As quinted against the sudden brightness, eyes darting around for the creature. There was no sign of it. But seconds later, all the machinery around me rumbled into life. It was a sound Keith had made at the campsite. Forever ago, I realized with horror

that this was the creature's true voice. It had let me know of his existence right at the beginning. It had been toying with me from the moment we met. A terrible piercing pain shot through my shoulder. I wheeled around, somehow still keeping my grip on the sledgehammer. There was no sign of the creature, but it had left its mark. The sickle sat embedded in my shoulder. The agony was immeasurable.

Gritting my teeth, I reached up and tugged it free. causing more white-hot pain to course through me. From my right, the creature lunged. Instinctively, I lashed out with the hand holding the sickle. The blade caught Keith's arm just below the elbow. Denny Lasseter's well-maintained tool cutting through muscle and bone like butter. The arm dropped to the dirty ground with a splat,

its bloody finger stumps wiggling furiously. Over the tin of the machinery, I heard it again. Tossing the sickle aside, I fled. It followed. We ran into another barn. The machinery here just as active. Heading for higher ground, I clattered up some metal stairs to a raised walkway. Quickly, I took in my surroundings. The machine whirring away below me was an industrial-grade mulcher. Feed would be poured in here to be deposited into barrels that were used to feed whichever cows were in the milking barns. Right now, the mulcher was running on empty, its blades churning the air. Ahead of me, the creature meed again. I hefted the hammer up and basted it, standing my ground. Come on then! I just had to hope that its understanding of farmyard machinery wasn't as strong as its understanding of the human psyche.

I can only assume its time was running out, and it wanted to take me with it out of petty reverend. Venge. That's the only explanation for why it charged me with such reckless abandon. As a creature thundered towards me, I spun away with a grace that as someone who'd been kicked out of ballet class as a kid. I didn't know I possessed. At the same time, I swung the sledgehammer with all my might, connecting squarely with the creature's back. It toppled forwards, straight over the guardrail. It just had time for one final angry shriek. before Keith's body was pulled into the mulcher,

still not ready to relax just yet. I thundered down the steps to where the chute deposited the mulch. I watched into his passionate silence, as a rain of blood and viscera poured forth into one of the plastic barrels below it. When the barrel was about two-thirds spool, the machine ran dry, with only the occasional glop of flesh dripping into the mixture.

I hit the button to seal the barrel, and send it on its way. The machine shoved it to the side, and it promptly rolled down an incline that led outside the barn. But I wasn't content yet. I hurried outside, and with great effort hefted the barrel

from its resting place, and began to roll it towards another large building. This one was a squat-brick structure, with a huge chimney jutting out of it. Beneath my hands, I could feel the barrel twitching. Maybe it was just a movement of the eye core within, or maybe it was my imagination. But it felt like the creature was making one final attempt

to make its presence known. Inside, I stared at the huge, ugly machine that took up the majority of the room. This more than any of the farming equipment. I knew well. Billy had been fascinated by it as a kid. One summer he'd made me come and watch it almost every day. I'd always despise the smell.

but tolerated it just to spend time with Billy. Now, I barely even registered the stink of the giant incinerator. Without pause, I hit the huge red button that would bring the machine to life. I rolled the barrel onto the small freight elevator that led up to the manual disposal hatch. This was where they cremated the bodies of cows. Billy had always regarded the machine with a strange reverence because of this. We called it the crematorium.

When the incinerator was done working, nothing would be left of those poor animals. I knew that if I was going to destroy Keith's body, I couldn't ask for better than this. I could feel the heat building up. And I was beginning to smell the oily stench as I pulled open the hatch that led down into the furnace. Ready to roll the barrel in and slabbed the door.

I glanced down. Billy sat on the floor of the furnace. legs crossed, arms bolted in his lap. He was surrounded by ash. It stained his clothes, his skin. Already the heat was rising, becoming unbearable. I could see Billy's hair smoldering. His clothes beginning to catch.

He looked up at me and smiled sadly. I've always thought about this. Ever since I was a kid, always wondered what it'd be like. The flame jets caught, and the interior of the incinerator erupted. The heat dried my tears on my cheeks. I had no time to grieve. Quickly I rolled the barrel to the hole.

I'm sorry. Beneath my touch, I could feel the barrel twitch again. And I understood now that the creature was laughing. And I'm sure it laughed all the way to the bottom. There's not much to say after that. The sheriff and some of his men arrived and had to listen to my frantic wailing about an intruder who'd come by and done all this

before Billy heroically pulled him into the incinerator. I couldn't tell the truth. Couldn't tell them we'd done all this to ourselves? The others were more than happy to go along with the lie. Only Chester spoke of the monster with a skull for a face. But kids think about strange things. We all know that. To my relief,

S.J had escaped the evening unscathed. She'd gone to bed and promptly slept through the whole thing. I don't think the others will ever recover. I don't think I will either. Maybe one day I'll confront my brother about what he did. But not yet. We all have our own pain to deal with right now. I never told the sheriff the name of the intruder.

Keith Miller remains innocent in the eyes of the law. I guess, knowing he was a victim too. I didn't want anything pinned on him that could get back to his loved ones. I didn't expect to see his face or hear his name again. Then two weeks later, I did. It was a small segment on the news. The search is still on for missing banker Keith Miller. Mr. Miller was last seen with friends at 827 on Friday the 8th.

After an evening of drinking, Mr. Miller jumped into the fountain in Hyades Rize Town Square and was never seen to emerge. believing he could be in danger his friends searched the fountain only to find nothing. The fountain, for those not familiar, is a self-perpetuating water source, with no sewer access or openings of any kind into which Mr. Miller could have disappeared. Police believe he may have hit his head during his ill-advised dive and wandered off out of view of his friends. If anyone has any information on Mr. Miller or his whereabouts or why he took that ill-advised dive, please be sure to contact whoever might be interested in hearing such information.

They displayed a picture of the man who had been Keith Miller. I'd recognize that face anywhere. Only one thing reverberated throughout my mind, though. Keith dived into the fountain at 827. Five minutes later, he showed up in our campsite. The fountain is in a town called Red Lake Flats. It's more than four hours away. The sade is a method, and full.

Flesh of the Idiots were written and adapted by Olivia White and produced by Phil Mikulski. The musical score was composed by Brandon Boone. This production was brought to you from the veins of the world. There's so much more down here. So, visit the no-sleeppodcast.com to learn more about our... This audio production is copyright, 2021 by Creative Reason Media, Inc. All rights reserved. The copyrights for the stories are held by Olivia White.

All rights perverse. No duplication or reproduction of this audio program is permitted without the written consent of creative reason media.