The NoSleep Podcast - S17 Ep2: NoSleep Podcast S17E02

Episode Date: November 14, 2021

It’s Episode 02 of Season 17. Our spells speak of people far too close to us.“Soup” written by Christopher Alexander (Story starts around 00:05:35)Produced by: Jeff ClementCast: Sam – Graham Rowat, Nora – Nichole Goodnight, Momma – Erin Lillis“The Door People” written by Matthew Maichen (Story starts around 00:37:25)TRIGGER WARNING!Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Phoebe – Mary Murphy, Jasper – Kyle Akers, Paul – Matthew Bradford, Dolphin-Man – Jeff Clement, Bat-Man – Mick Wingert, Gorilla-Man – Atticus Jackson, Door Person – Elie Hirschman, Foley for Phoebe – Mary Murphy“The Aisle” written by Sam Essame (Story starts around 01:03:00)Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Narrator – Erika Sanderson“Spotless” written by Robin Rowan Gallagher (Story starts around 01:14:05)TRIGGER WARNING!Produced by: Jesse CornettCast: Thomas – Eddie Cooper, David – Dan Zappulla, Lora – Sarah Ruth Thomas, Brent – Mike DelGaudio, Cindy – Nikolle Doolin, Verity – Danielle McRae, Bird – Wafiyyah White, Iris – Erika Sanderson, Glen – David Cummings“The Patient in Room 96” written by H.B. Diaz (Story starts around 02:03:05)TRIGGER WARNING!Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Narrator – Kristen DiMercurio, Imogene – Sarah Ruth Thomas, The Boy – Jeff Clement, Dr. Thomas – Jesse CornettThis episode is sponsored by:HelloFresh – With HelloFresh, you get fresh, pre-measured ingredients and mouthwatering seasonal recipes delivered right to your door. Skip trips to the grocery store and count on HelloFresh to make home cooking easy, fun, and affordable ñ and that’s why it’s America’s #1 meal kit!. Go to HelloFresh.com/nosleep14 and use code nosleep14 for up to 14 free meals AND 3 free gifts.StoryWorth – StoryWorth is an online service that helps you and your loved ones preserve precious memories and stories for years to come. It is a thoughtful and meaningful gift that connects you to those who matter most. NoSleep listeners get $10 off their first purchase at StoryWorth.com/nosleep.Click here to learn more about The NoSleep Podcast teamClick here to learn more about LP Hernandez’ book, “The Rat King: A Horror Collection”Click here to learn more about Sam EssameClick here to learn more about Robin Rowan GallagherClick here to learn more about H.B. DiazExecutive Producer & Host: David CummingsMusical score composed by: Brandon Boone“The Door People” illustration courtesy of Emily CannonAudio 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

Season 17 already has us under its spell. I hope no one gets turned into a turkey. Please don't say turkey. Turkey means Thanksgiving. And that means so much food to prepare. That's true, Jessica. The holidays can be hectic. But HelloFresh helps keep things simple

with recipes and ingredients that cut out the grocery shopping and limit meal prep time so you can spend more of the festive season with your friends and family and your cats. We all know how with Hello Fresh you get, at fresh, pre-portioned ingredients and seasonal recipes delivered right to your doorstep. But can they really make the holidays easier for us? And my cats?

Well, I'm not sure how much your cats help with food crabbing. Surprisingly, quite a bit. But Hello Fresh offers 50 menu and market items to choose from every week, including vegetarian, calorie smart, and gourmet options, providing plenty of variety. Not having to brave a hectic grocery store this time of year would be a big help. Exactly. And you need to keep warm. As fall transitions to winter, there's nothing better than posying up with a comforting, home-cooked meal.

Recipes like chicken ramen in shoyu-style broth and turkey ragu-yoki make it a no-brainer to skip on paying for takeout. Saving time and money? HelloFresh is hard to resist. I remember making my first meal with HelloFresh. I could tell right away how fresh all the ingredients were. And prepping the food was fast and easy. And, frankly, even fun. And don't think I didn't look darling in that little apron I wore.

I won't think that. Look, HelloFresh makes the holidays easier. Your weekly delivery is made to help you cut back on meal prep and cleanup. And their limited edition holiday boxes deliver everything you need to cook up a family feast. No planning necessary. How can our listeners, and their cats, discover the joys of HelloFresh? It's simple. Go to hellofresh.com slash no sleep 14 and use code no sleep 14 for up to 14 free meals and three free gifts. I love free gifts. So I'm going to hellofresh.com slash no sleep 14 and I'll use code no sleep 14.

If you do, you'll be enjoying America's number one meal kit. Me and my cats. You know, they say which is. and cats go together. They also say it's time for you to start the show. Well then, let the horror commence. In times long gone, in days of yore, there are legends and tales of dark folklore. Round candlelight and fireside, the tales are shared.

enchanting dark secrets in hushed toes declared. And from those days, both present and past, we beseech you now to brace yourself for the No Sleep Podcast. Hello, travelers, I'm your guide, David Cummings. Well, we promised it, and now we deliver. Our newest release from Sleepless Sanctuary Publishing is The Rat King, a horror collection by L.P. Hernandez. L.P.'s name will be familiar with any listener of the show, as the author of chilling stories such as A Sundown Town, The Hole in the Great Grass Sea, and our season 16 finale, they have suffered, among many other fan favorites. The Rat King, A Horror Collection, is available now in e-book and paperback form,

and links to purchase can be found in the show notes. We're very proud to welcome LP to the Sleepless Sanctuary family. The Rat King, a horror collection, marks the third and final Sleepless Sanctuary Publishing release of 2021, alongside S.H. Cooper's haunting gothic novella, inheriting her ghosts, and Marcus D'Amanda's terrifying collection, hide the knives. Stay tuned for new sleepless sanctuary releases and announcements in 2022, including details on how you can become involved with the sanctuary. But for now, well, we'll get on with the show. In our first tale, we find ourselves transported back to 1930 America,

the Great Depression. Times are bad, people are hungry. But in this tale, shared with us by author, Christopher Alexander. One town has a rather unique way of coping. Performing this tale are Graham Rowett, Nicole Goodnight, and Aaron Lillis. So hang out with the neighbors, gather around the pot in the town square, and maybe partake in some soup.

Year was 1931. The town of Halen's was poor in them days. Real poor. Not a road was paved and not a belly was full. We bartered and scraped and scrounged and made it work. I was a boy of 10 at the time, and I can still remember the old tin shed in the town square. The fire was always going, and the big old cast iron pot was always bubbling. People put their scraps in that pot, and the poorest among us could always get a bowl of slop. Best time to eat was when it got low.

Get the dregs on the bottom. Little pieces of meat shaved off the bone of some, and the poorest. skinny animal, some beans, maybe even a bite or two with tater. That was good, set heavy on the stomach. My daddy had gone on to glory. My mama worked nights doing the washing at some hotel a bit up the road. When the sun went down, I was supposed to be inside. Usually wasn't, though, especially during them hot summer months. We didn't worry about bad people the way I have to now. So I'd go on out and into the square by myself and sit with the people that showed up. Mostly old people, poor and lonely, and wanted to talk. It was late July, hot and thick, pitch dark and cloudy.

The orange firelight cut the darkness and jagged shapes all around the shed, and I was sitting on an old log a few yards off. There were little groups of people here and there, but no one I especially wanted to see. I was hoping old James Thompson would show up. He told me stories about the war. He never turned up that night, but a stranger did. I looked up, and she was there.

A girl. A couple years older than me. Dressed all in white, except for a red handkerchief around her throat. Her skin was about the palest thing I'd ever seen or ever seen since. Moonlight white, I'd call it. I'm Nora. Sam, you knew around here? I ain't seen you before. No, I've been here for quite a while. I'm not much for visiting, though.

I didn't know what to make of that. Haleen's was a small place. You didn't have to be much for visiting for people to know who you were, and for there to be a fair amount of gossip besides. Do you read? Read? Hell, course I read. She smiled. I don't mean funny, bucks. At that I just shrugged.

She laughed. I saw like little boys. It wasn't what she said, but how she said it, as the saying goes. It made me wince. Like how one might get startled if they'd been playing with a rifle they thought wasn't loaded, but then found out it was. Oh, they're funny and cute. At ten years old, I was many things,

but I'd be damned if I was going to be called cute. I gritted my teeth and stood up to leave I wanted to give her a good punch But daddy or no daddy My mama had done a good enough job that I knew better That is to say If I'd done anything of the sort Mama would have taken a strap to my ass

I dusted the rear end of my jeans With a couple of slaps and began to leave I need to go to bed Chores in the morning She nodded Mr. Helper you are Good, that's good I'll tell you what.

How'd you like to earn a quarter? A quarter. Unheard of money to a ten-year-old in them days. Bullshit. I began to turn away. Look here. I turned back to see her holding up a coin. It flickered silver in the firelight.

God help me. I wanted that money. I walked back towards her. All right? What do you want me to do? No, nothing. that much, just go to my house and betcha my umbrella. I think it's

going to rain later. I live out on King Road. My house is right beside that bridge. It goes over Locas Creek. At that, I grimaced. Ain't no damn house beside that bridge. What the hell are you trying to pull? I figured she'd act shocked and scandalized at my

language, but she didn't. She just threw her head back and laughed. On either side of the red handkerchief, I could see dark blue veins running the length of her neck. I didn't like it. Made me feel like I was in the presence of some cold-blooded animal, a lizard or a snake.

You are a spunky thing, aren't you? I promise you there's a house there, and my umbrella's on the front porch. If you go fetch it, I'll give you this quarter. If you don't want to, are you too scared? That's fine. I understand. Shit, I ain't scared. I just don't like stepping in bullshit.

She didn't respond. She just looked me straight in the eye and smiled. Fine, but you better not winge on the quarter. Strap her, no, I might just knock you down if you do. She laughed again and waved me away. I turned and began to walk down Harlan's Road. When I was far enough away, so I knew she couldn't see me, I took off running. It was about a mile to that bridge, and I figured I could go and be back quick as a whip.

I couldn't figure it, though. I knew there weren't no house by that bridge. I thought I did. I figured I could be wrong. I didn't go down King Road all that much. Maybe I wasn't thinking straight. A few minutes later, I turned off of Harlins and on the King. I heard the squeaking of bats overhead.

Night hunters thinning the herd of mosquito that ravaged Harlins with all its lazy creeks and ponds and still muddy waters. Five minutes later, I was at the bridge. and I'll be damned if there wasn't a house. A little two-story farmhouse, whitewashed with a long green porch, rocking chairs and a swinging bench. Yellow candlelight flickered in the windows, and as I got closer I could see the umbrella propped up beside the front door.

I felt nervous, but I crept up the steps and snatched the umbrella, then turned quickly to leave. I didn't make it back off the porch, though. A small shaft of moonlight had found its way through the clouds. The light flickered along the ground as wisps of mist moved quickly across the moon. I looked up at the swirling clouds, and they looked like a face. A long, thin face with flat features, gaping pools for eyes and a snubed nose like a snake. But then the clouds continued on past, and the face was gone, and I stood there to.

just staring, almost hypnotized by the flickering light. Without thinking, I made my way over to one of the rocking chairs and sat down. I can't say how long I sit there, but it was a large peal of thunder that brought me back to my senses. Shit fire, what the hell? I shook myself and stood up. The lightning flashed, and she was standing there. Red scarf pulled up over the bottom portion of her face. Like a bandit.

You didn't bring the umbrella. I just shook my head. I didn't know what to say. She came forward. But that's fine. Just fine as one. You tried, unless. I didn't like the sound of that.

It was just about to run when another flash of lightning made me stop. This bolt wasn't a flash in the pan. It was chain lightning that kept coming. Bolt after bolt. burned away the night, and I could see her plainly now, and there wasn't no scarf over her face. Her mouth and jaw was slathered in blood, thick and dripping off her chin. I screamed and dropped the umbrella and ran. As I did, the thunder from all them boats finally caught up to me.

The ground shook, and for a moment I thought hell itself was trying to break through and come crawling out. I ran as hard and as fast as I could. Through thick brush and past the trees and into the waters in Locust Creek. It's a shallow, lazy stream, and I nearly ran on top of the water as I made my way across, breathing hard and crying despite myself. A few minutes later, I came out on King Road and kept running for town. I was hoping I could get some help. I was raised tough, hard mama, No daddy had to be. But I was being chased by something that I knew I couldn't deal with. I knew she was after me.

No matter how many times I looked back and didn't see her, but I knew she was there. I came running into town like a streak. The rain had stopped, but I was soaked to the skin. My bare feet bleeding from the hard running on the harder gravel. I pulled up at the shed. No one was there. I looked inside and the stew was roiling under a hot fire.

There was a strange scent, thick and almost sweet. But everyone was gone. A voice called out soft and sweet. It was Nora. I went inside the shed and shut the old tin door. To hell with you! If I wanted to get you, I already would have. Come on, talk to me.

I didn't move, and I won't lie. I was scared shitless. Now, Sam, you come out of there right now, or I'll have to do something neither of us is going to like. Why the hell you got blood on you? And where are all the damn people? Well, I got blood on me because I was punched in the mouth. The people are gone.

Bullshit! Who punched you in the mouth? Dan Caldwin. I thought about that. Old Dan was drunk and an asshole. He might have done it. Fine. Where'd everybody go? In the pot?

I didn't know what to make you that. What's that mean, in the pot? Wait a damn minute. You mean they're in this pot here? I started to laugh. Some fool was pulling one. They'd spooked me good, but I wasn't no damn idiot. I went over to the pot and peaked in. It looked just the same as it always did. Dark sloped just to boiling.

I shook my head and turned away, then went out to meet her. The blood was gone off her mouth, and she stood in the shaft of orange light that came out the open shed door. Cute, cute, cute. Oh, shut the hell up. What are you up to? Where is everybody really? Don't give me no horse crap about in the damn pot. You ain't going to make no fool of me. Nora shook her head and reached out her hand. She was holding something. A bright, shining new dime.

I had it for a moment, then snatched it and backed away. A dime? You said a quarter. And you said you'd bring me the umbrella. Well, you're lucky I'm giving you anything. I shrugged. There was something to that. I turned to leave.

It was late, and she was weird. And I wanted to get home. Oh, don't go. Stay. Talk to me. I might have another little thing you could do. Hell no! It'd be good for you, and your mama.

That made me stop. What do you know about my mama? I know a lot. A lot. And I know she'll be back home daylight. A flash of lightning lit the ground at just that moment, and I could see what I hadn't before. Streaks are red all along the wall of the shed

that the rain hadn't washed away. and gristle mixed in with it. It was then that I knew. This ain't no joke, is it? Nora shook her head. Old Dan didn't give you one in the mouth either, did he? You caught me. I figured I could try and run, but I knew she'd catch me.

I'd heard the old saying about making a deal with the devil, and I figured this situation might just be what it was talking about. Nora smiled and winked. Well, you're clever. You've done sized up your predicament nicely. I didn't know what predicament meant that I figured I could hazard a guess. Probably meant something like I'd done and figured out how much shit I was into. I might have.

I don't want to hurt you. I honestly don't, but I do need you for something. And what is that? You little bitch? I just couldn't stay pitiful. I felt wrong on me. That got her laughing like a crazy person And I backed up a little

Sam, do you love your mama Shit, what the hell kind of question is that? You'd do anything for her, wouldn't you? I didn't like where this is going. Not at all. To hell with you. You leave Mama alone. This shit stops now. You had me scared, no damn lie, but I ain't gonna stand for this.

Her laugh stopped. and the sparkle in her eyes went out like a light. She wasn't no pretty girl no more. Her face started to sag, and deep creases began to spread like ice cracking on a lake. She went from maybe 10 years old to about 150 in less than a couple seconds. I've had enough of your lip, you damn little pup. I'll shank you like a bull at the slaughterhouse if I see fit,

and there ain't shit you can do about it, Little fuck. You say you love your mama? Well, we'll just have to see. She growled the words out like a rabid animal and looked up at the sky as she finished. Lightning blazed again, turning the clouds to fire from east to west.

And there, above us, like some ghostly skull, the face was back, pale and hollow. I screamed and ran, but didn't make it ten feet. before Nora's hands were on my shoulder. She spun me around like a ragdoll. She was a girl again, bright-eyed and smiling. Sam, Sam, Sam, calm yourself. I stood as still a stone, looking into her soft green eyes.

Couldn't move. Didn't really want to. The rain had turned to a cool mist that made me feel like I was underwater. She let me go. You won't run now, I think You'll be a good boy I nodded What do you want me to do?

You're gonna come with me It'll be a good thing if you do For both our mamas What the hell are you? I'm a thing A person A person thing Just like you

Just like you She turned and made her way towards the shed Now you just stay right there I'll be back She stepped into the shed, partially blocking the orange light. After a moment, I heard a grunt and a crash. Steam billowed from the open doorway, and I realized what the odor was. It was blood, boiling blood.

Nora had pushed over the pot, spilling the stew. She came walking out slowly, bare feet wading through the steam and slop, but she didn't seem to notice. She came up to me slowly, and then, quick as a copperhead, she grabbed me and dragged me toward the spill. She pulled me into the center of the ranked mess. The cool, wet ground had no doubt taken the edge off, but the stew still burned my feet. I thrashed and tore about, but she didn't let go. I might as well have been trying to jerk my arm out of the mouth of a lion.

With starry? She began to walk towards a tree line. me along. She spoke over her shoulder as we went. Blood of the masses, love that is young, a walk among the dead. Start where you begun. She chanted it a few times and then stopped right as we entered the trees. It was near, pitch dark, but I could see shapes along the ground, line in the path, shapes that could only be bodies. Did you kill everybody? Mama has to thief. We walked in silence, passing the dead, and I prayed it would stop, but the Lord would just make her disappear. A fog, tainted red, froze up against my scalded feet, and a strong wind ran through the trees.

We walked for probably an hour in a wandering way. The moon came out at some point, and I could see the bodies more clearly. Sometimes there was only one or two. But other times there'd be a pile Naked and stacked like firewood I wanted to look away But I couldn't They were all as pale as whitewash

And bone thin More like skeletons overlaid with raw hide Than what a few hours ago Had been living, breathing people I felt a bulge in my throat I wanted to cry I think Nora knew it I heard a quiet light

I gritted my teeth and kept on walking. After a little while longer, I could see the woods beginning to thin. As we drew closer to the tree line, the fog went from a pale tint to rust-colored and so thick it made me think of pine sap. The mist caught in my throat, and I coughed. A moment later, we were through, and I was looking at halents like we'd never left. Start where we began. Come along now. Mama's waiting. We walked down dirt streets that now look different. At first, almost imperceptibly. But slowly I understood the change. A grayness lay over the world, but not a shadow to be seen.

Everywhere I looked, there was a pale film, more felt than seen, like the world itself had been stabbed into my soul. Nora laughed, high and loud and full of honest joy. Oh, you don't know, you don't know. I grew angry in a flash. No shit, you little bitch. I'll kill you. I leapt forward and threw a punch. She took the blow straight to the face without so much as flinching.

My hand felt like I just struck a brick wall. I shouted and backed away. and pain radiated up my arm. Are you finished? She then turned and started walking again. I followed with downcast eyes. I knew I was going to die, or worse. We passed a few little buildings that made up the town,

and finally we stood in front of the old soup shed. There was singing coming from inside. It was a song I knew. It was a voice I knew I bolted toward the door The pot was back upright And the fire was roiling once more And there was Mama

Stirring the pot and singing all the while She turned slowly And I nearly screamed The grayness was there Covering her like a blanket Deep in her eyes Sammy She smiled as she reached out to me

In her hand, she held a bowl, a steaming bowl. Eat. What? Mama? Eat, Sammy, eat. You need to change. You need to be like us. I swallowed hard. And when I started to talk, my voice shook. Mama, I ain't ever cuss in front of you. Been just as chased mouth as a preacher on Sunday morning. but Mama you must be out of your damned mind

I figure she'd slap me Tell me to mind my mouth What she did was worse than anything I could figure She laughed Like it was all just a big joke And Nora laughed too They laughed and laughed And Mama came and hugged me

I pulled away cursing the blue streak Now damn it, he got shit for brains By the end, I was screaming at the top of my lungs, and my fists were clenched. It took them another minute before they finally stopped. They were both wiping tears from their eyes. Oh, Sammy, Sammy, Sammy, you always were a good boy, but you're far too serious. Everything's going to be all right now. No more worrying all night.

No more being dead tired. No more leaving you alone. all the time. We're going to be together. All you need to do is eat up. And all we'll have to do is help feed our mama. What the hell you're talking about?

Your mama died of call her before I was born. She smiled. I'm talking about my new mama. She gave a quick glance, scoward. Your new mama. I started to cry. I'm not ashamed to say it.

I think it was right. then that I began to suspect my mama might be gone, replaced by something. I didn't know what, but something not her. I was also crying because I knew I couldn't eat that soup, that damn soup that smelled like sweet copper, that soup that scalded my feet but was somehow back in the pot and boiling over the fire. That soup that they kept saying was for Mama. I just knew I'd never be able to eat it. I'm not eating that damn soup. You taught me better than that. I may be a little hellraiser, but I got just enough fear of God to say,

hell no, to that slop. Even as the words came out, thunder roared overhead. I looked up, and there it was again, right up above us. The face, like a pale skull, stretched and deformed. And as I watched, the chin began to grow longer, reaching for the ground, twisting in wide circles. circles as it came. The winds began to stir. It's loud at first, but growing stronger by the second. A cyclone was brewing. Nora whispered in my ear.

Mama's gonna think. I started to run, but Mama grabbed me by the shoulder. She screamed in my face. Teeth clenched and spit flying. Eat the soup! I won't do it! Kill me if you got to, but I won't. Y'all killed everybody. I won't be like that. I swear to God, I won't. Mama's eyes began to squint hard, and they grew wet.

At first, I thought it was the wind, but it wasn't. Her jaw clenched in anger, softened, and she began to sob. Run, boy. Run! I'm gone just as crazy as the shithouse rat. She was saving me. It ain't. She was sobbing hard now. Her fist clenched hard by her side,

like she was trying to hold on to something, maybe herself. I wrecked the car on my way home tonight. Should have died. I was bleeding bad. But that girl, Nora, she said she could save me. I just have to change. I'd have to be like her. I knew in my soul it wasn't right, but I did it.

Christ, forgive me, I did it. I didn't want to leave you. Mama. She waved a hand to hush me up. Run, boy. I'll stop, Nora. You run. I love you.

And don't look back. I won't be in my right mind for long. With this, she turned from me and face it. Nora, who stood ten yards away from her, hands held high, raised toward the face that continued to stretch towards the ground. Nora turned and locked eyes with Mama. I think in that moment she knew my Mama's mind was her own again, at least for a little while. They screamed and threw themselves into one another, punching and clawing and fighting. Nora, in a rage of bloodlust, my mama fighting to give me time to run for it.

I cried as I watched. After a few moments, I realized I was being a dumbass just standing there. Mama was given herself to save me. I'd half a thought to jump into the mix myself, throw a couple punches, but I had enough sense to know it was useless.

The face was coming closer, but I was just me. A young boy with nothing but humanity in my veins. I turned and ran. As I left the town, I heard the whirlwind touched down. The streams of Mama and Nora were cut short, and the air was reddened by the sound of screeching tin as the shed was ripped apart.

I didn't stop until I couldn't breathe. I had no idea how far I got, a couple miles at least. I turned and looked back, even though my mama told me not to. I couldn't see much. The forest blocked my view. But high up in the sky I could see the face. It was blood red with the rising sun, and as I watched, it slowly faded and was gone.

Put down your spoon because no soup for you. But we do have more horror for you coming up in mere moments. But first, I want to help you out when it comes to giving gifts this holiday season. Sure, you could give your loved ones some same old store-bought trinkets, if you can find any this year. But here's a better idea. This holiday season, I want to give a gift to my loved ones that makes them feel special and unique, just like the relationship we share. That's why I'm giving everyone I care about, Storyworth.

Storyworth is an online service that helps you and your loved ones preserve precious memories and stories for years to come. It's a thoughtful and meaningful gift that connects you to those who matter most. Here's how it works. Every week, Storyworth emails your relative or friend a thought-provoking question of your choice from their vast pool of possible options. Each unique prompt asks questions you've never thought to ask. Like, what's the bravest thing you've ever done in your life? Or, if you could see into the future, what would you want to find out?

After one year, Story Worth will compile all of your loved one's stories, including photos into a beautiful keepsake book that you'll be able to share and revisit for generations to come. If you ask me, this is a wonderful idea that will gift you with amazing memories. And not to get too modeling, but this summer, my mom passed away. Losing her made me keenly aware of how important it is to preserve and cherish memories of this nature. It's so much more than just keeping photo albums or files on your phone. It's learning about and remembering more of who they are as a person. person. Reading the weekly stories helps connect you with your loved ones no matter how near or far

apart you are. And isn't this a great idea for loved ones who live far away from you or who you might not be able to see due to travel restrictions? With Storyworth, I'm giving those I love most a thoughtful personal gift from the heart and preserving their memories and stories for years to come. Just go to storyworth.com slash no sleep and save $10 on your first purchase. That's storyworth.com slash no sleep to save $10 on your first purchase. I really believe you and yours will be glad you did. And now, back to the horror, and a story I think you'll find to be adorable. When you have younger siblings, it can be such a chore when you're called upon to look after them, especially when it's very frequently, especially when it's just you and them,

alone in a house with increasingly strange goings-on. And in this tale, shared with us by author Matthew Macon, it soon becomes clear that strange could mean deadly. Performing this tale are Mary Murphy, Kyle Acres, Matthew Bradford, Jeff Clement, Mick Wingert, Atticus Jackson, and Ellie Hirschman. So don't be close-minded, otherwise you might find yourself opened up to The Door People We lived in a new suburban home

In that magical time when middle-class families Could afford new suburban homes For as new as it was, the doors creaked. They'd often swing idly open, sending undulating shrieks throughout the house. In hindsight, I don't know how many of those noises were coincidental. I remember the night when Jasper first looked over at me and said, Phoebe, I'm scared of the door people.

We were in the kitchen. And I was about to cook macaroni and cheese. Steam erupted from the pot toward the white stucco ceiling as I lifted the lid and emptied pasta into it. I had already taken pepper and paprika from the spice rack to experiment with a smokier flavor. There were nights when I enjoyed taking care of my brothers, feeling like an adult, even if it was every weekend.

After I didn't answer, he tried again. Phoebe? I stirred the pot. What are the door people, Jasper? I don't know. That's why I'm scared. Paul was in the living room watching TV. Kids still did that back then.

We chose from two or three channels and absorbed whatever they showed us. We were broadcast to. I smiled and stepped away from the pot. Okay. Do you know anything about them? They open and close doors and they walk around at night. That's all. A door creaked, and he bristled as if the noise were hurting his ears.

From the other room, a cartoon boy genius berated his sister for her stupidity in a pseudo-European accent. Paul's head reared back, then shot forward as he screamed performative laughter at the television. Shut up, Paul. I'm just laughing because it's funny. I pointed my stirring spoon at Jasper the way I'd seen TV moms do. Stop it, you're older, act like it. Jasper was supposed to reluctantly apologize to me, then apologize to Paul. But he looked at me with a heavy brow and a raised left lip, an ugly face that made me feel ugly.

Ugh, sorry. You aren't mom. I'm still scared. If I was mom, I wouldn't be here, said a nasty voice that wasn't willing to speak aloud yet. Another door creaked, and Jasper shook. I didn't know what to say about this, because even at nine, Jasper still pretended a lot. He got mad at me when I called it pretending, though.

And he told me that I was ruining the game. I decided that if I didn't know how to humor him, I'd say nothing at all. After dinner, he was a tribal hunter again. He used to be naked when he played this game. Dad had convinced him to do it in his underwear by showing in pictures of Tarzan. Still, he made stereotypical Indian noises and pretended to shoot his toy bow

at anything he could claim was an animal. In reality, he was incapable of actual violence, but he had no qualms about property damage. We were all glad he'd lost the arrows. Paul kept watching TV and laughed as loud as his developing lungs would allow every time he could tell there was supposed to be a joke. And I washed the dishes.

Everyone's dishes, that was how it worked. I had to be careful about it, of course. The weekend before, my mother had found scratched dishes when she'd come home. She'd given me that disappointed look because she never yelled. The message was better sent by staring at me when I failed to properly administer this entire house at 13. One of the dishes had been scratched again. I put it on the drying rack before I could do more damage. There was another creaking noise.

Jasper froze. I opened my mouth and found myself about to shout at him, so I instead closed it and said nothing. Our parents came home late Sunday night, and another week passed until Friday. Then I cooked, cleaned, and attempted to be a substitute parent as the doors creaked. I didn't want to scare my brother,

but every time I opened or closed the door to the bathroom, the hinges screamed at me. The next time he cringed at the noise, I talked to him. This place isn't haunted, Jasper. They built it two years ago. He shook his head. They're door people, not ghosts. Illogical as it was, the fear was infectious.

I started staring down hallways and peeking around corners. Why, after all, would the doors be opening and closing this much on their own? I prayed that my parents, when it noticed Jasper's anxiety when they came. home. Thankfully, they never did. There were some things you can count on them for. One night while cooking, I heard thumping upstairs, someone running down the hallway. I entered the foyer and scanned the second-story balcony. Hello? Jasper? Yeah? I heard his voice behind me from the downstairs bathroom, and Paul was in the living room watching TV. I looked upstairs again. Shadows cast themselves across the ceiling. I turned the upstairs lights on before re-entering the living room.

Another week passed. Our parents were there, then gone by the time the Friday bus brought me home. I wondered, as I sat waiting for my brothers, if this was what eighth grade was, and if the expectations would only grow from here, I remember dad telling me that in some cultures, thirteen meant adult, in the moment after he patted my shoulder, but before he left for work. Late that night as I lay awake, there was a creaking noise too close to my bedroom. I covered my ears and turned over to look at the wall until something touched my back. I turned and saw Jasper standing there. His small eyes sparks in the darkness.

They're not that bad. His hand shrunk back. He nodded. Then he turned and walked out of the room. Horrible heaving breaths overtook me, giving love. to soaps. I didn't bring it up to Jasper. But that night, as Paul watched cartoons again, I saw him lean forward. His shorts rolled up and a dark mark revealed itself on his thigh. What's that? What's what? I pulled up his shorts. Hey, stop it. Just below his thigh was a black

mark in the shape of a crab. Is that a temporary tattoo? The door people put it there. I looked up to see Jasper leaning against the door frame in a way that didn't seem very childlike. I tried to imagine what a TV mom would say, and I couldn't. It's okay. I don't think they're going to hurt us. They're a little mean sometimes, but it's not that bad. I looked again at the crab mark. What do they do that's mean?

They move things. Like they'll take your stuff and put it somewhere else. And then when you ask them where it is, they'll just laugh. Okay. But how did they give him this mark? Paul, how did you get that? Paul shrugged with an angry frown. He turned up the volume on the TV.

I grabbed the remote and twisted it out of his hands. He squealed and tried to take it back. When he couldn't, he started crying. Jasper ignored the fighting. They do it when you're sleeping. Then he lowered his shirt, and I saw them. Along his collarbone were a series of, dog symbols. I realized that these, and the crab, were too perfectly black. They stood out from the

skin, rather than blending into its natural color the way a temporary tattoo would. Paul managed to grab the remote and turned the volume up even higher until it was on full blast. He sneered at me. I ignored him and led Jasper into the foyer to talk. I don't want to play this game. His eyes were vacant. Not a game, but that's all they do. Play games. The door people. Paul has only one mark. Why do you have so many? He shocked. Okay, Jasper, I don't like this at all. You told me they were mean. They can be. Then he took my hand and started walking.

Wait, what are we doing? We should talk to the door people. I don't. I looked back into the living room. What about Paul? He's watching TV. He'll be fine. Let's talk to the door people, Phoebe. You're the only one who hasn't met them. Despite being four years younger, he spoke with the tone of authority, and I went with him.

He led me to the closed upstairs bathroom door. Then he knocked on it. Jasper, shh. He knocked again, and it opened to crack. Hi. I looked into the gap. It was too dark in there, darker than it should have been of all the last. lights were off. My sister hasn't seen you yet. I think she's scared. The door creaked open and a man

stood in the darkness. My back hit the banister as a man stepped out of the bathroom. He wore a cat costume that looked too real. And as he entered the lit hallway, I realized why. It was made of the skins of cats stitched together, dry and clean as a taxidermied animal. It smelled like someone had tried their hardest to make it not stink like death and hadn't done a great job. The doorperson looked down the hall one way, then the other. She just wanted to see you. But then the catman took off running at an odd scampering piece that transitioned from hops to gallops. He rounded a corner into the master bedroom and was gone.

See, it's fine. I started hyperventilating. I stared in the direction of the bedroom, trying to process, what I'd just seen. Phoebe? I took a slower breath and tried to speak clearly. There are people living in our house? People like that?

More of them? Yep. How long have they been here? I don't know. I'd been told not to talk to strangers. But Jasper had broken that rule already. There were multiple of them in the house? What was the expectation here?

What was I supposed to do? I think they want to be talking animals, like from a Disney movie, but they're not very good at it. I grabbed his hand and led him back downstairs. But when we got there, I almost screamed and had to hold my hand over my mouth to stop myself. Paul was sitting in front of the TV. On the couch behind him was a man dressed like a dolphin. Its antipistic arms and legs were covered in rubbery skin, stitched. together so desperately that it looked like patchwork.

A fake glass eye on the side of the dolphin's head stared at us, even as the doorperson themselves must have been watching the TV. When Paul did his loud laugh, the dolphin man shrieked and fell over onto the couch, then rolled off to the floor. Paul did his best to ignore him. When the dolphin man almost crashed into him, he inched away. Jasper smiled.

They're fun sometimes. But you said they're mean. Yeah, but some of my friends can be mean. Like Scott and I play pranks on each other all the time. I think that's what they try to do. They just like to have fun. I bit my lip as I studied Jasper's unconcerned smile. And I stepped into the living room.

The dolphin man sat up. Scared, girl? He crawled toward me. The flipper on his back jostling with his body. movements. Scared girl. Scared girl. I...

I'm not. I'm not that scared. The dolphin man stood bully. Let's play a game. What kind of games do you play? We play many games. Want to play games for brave girls instead of scared ones. I'll...

I tried my hardest to give my best brave smile. Okay? Sure. Then he lunged forward and roared. I flinched back into the foyer. He laughed. Chasper laughed. Paul let out one of his screaming laughs.

Four doors opened and laughter erupted from them. Then they slammed shut. The dolphin got in very close. His snout arching over my head. To play the brave girl game, you need to be the brave girl. Do you want to be the brave girl? Uh, yes, I do. Okay.

Then we have to put the mark on you. Do you want the horse? I step back further to get away from him. Oh, no, no, sorry. I don't want that. The dolphin's entire body drooped forward, his hands dangling toward the ground. You are still not the brave girl. I am. I'm sorry. No, I just don't want the mark. But I am brave. I am.

If you want to prove that now, then you must punch. The brother. Punch? I looked at Chasper, who was turning white. The dolphin man pounded his knuckles into his palm. Punch! Punch the brother! Another voice whispered from upstairs.

Like, pretend, right? No. The dolphin man rushed forward and grabbed my hands. I saw his humanoid eyes twinkling beneath the dolphin's snout. To be the brave girl, you must punch the brother. I felt something in my chest, Weaver. That's stupid. I don't want to punch Jasper. He shrieked at me, and I backed away further.

A stench like dead ocean exuded off him. And I tried to ignore it because he already thought I was a coward, and I wasn't. I took care of Jasper every weekend. I cooked for him and I cleaned. I did every chore while he ran around playing pretend, and while Paul watched TV. And that was brave and admirable, and I was strong. But the desperation behind those thoughts made me feel pathetic. The dolphin man rushed forward, grabbed my hand, and led me into the living room so that I stood in front of Jasper.

Now, when I looked at my brother, I felt something hot in the back of my skull, burning down my neck to my upper. spine. He stood there bewildered by the possibility that I'd even be mad. Despite the fact that I'd done everything for him, I carried his expectation that I'd keep doing it forever. Phoebe? I swung my fist and hit him. He staggered back, holding his cheek. A rush of power and satisfaction started in my arms and surged through me. I laughed. The dolphin man shrieked with laughter. He'd bow back against the stairs, then ran up and down them. When he stopped laughing, he'd looked down at us from the stairway, then start again. Jasper rubbed his cheek.

I could see him trying not to cry. But then he started chuckling too, and we were all together. He would never apologize. He was nine, and it was beyond him. But between us was a recognition of his ingratitude, and some kind of reconciliation for us. it. See? Good game. Now for break the television. Paul looked up. His face wide and open. Another door person came in from the kitchen, dressed in the skin of what looked like a thousand bats. He had symbols that he clashed together.

Television, too much television! Paul looked at the batman, then at me, his eyes pleading. Okay, but we can't really break the TV. Boo. A man in a gorilla suit came out of the downstairs bathroom. It looked like he hadn't been able to find glass gorilla eyes, so he'd settled for human ones. Scared girl, scared boy.

He shouted that last part at Jasper, who looked up, still holding his cheek. The gorilla man tapped on the wall as he chanted. Always such good kids. Follow all the rules. Always such good kids. Follow all the rules. And they sang on like that. Always such good kids.

Follow all the rules. Never start fights. Always good in school. Obeying parents always. Even win their food. Always such good kids. Follow all the rules. And I felt it as I chanted.

My blood surging to my head. All that anger blowing out and taking on born. And I screamed. I shouted and I stomped. And I remembered the first time that I'd been left alone with my brothers. I had been 11. One of the door people responded by grabbing me. He was one of the door people.

hadn't seen before, dressed up as a parrot, his dead bird eyes stared down at me as his winged arms led me through a dance. He passed me off to a lizard man, who passed me off to the dolphin man. The whole time they kept chanting. Over the chorus, I heard Paul and Jasper shouting things, but I couldn't make out the words. I was overtaken by an inferno of joyous indignation. Then one of them handed me a baseball bat. I rushed into the living room, almost slipping on the rug the moment before I swung the bat into the TV. Its glass screen burst into sparks, and Paul screamed.

Thick curls of noxious smoke rose into the air as I stood there panting, watching as electricity surged one last time in its attempt to create pleasant unreality. The door people let out shone. shrieks that transformed into cackles. Paul backed away as Jasper put a hand over his mouth with wide eyes. I watched them as I panted, but I barely had time to reflect, before the parrot man grabbed the bat and swung it down at the top of the TV, denting it.

The cat man from before rushed him, and they fought over it for a moment before the cat man fully grabbed the bat, then continued crushing the TV, reducing it to a dented husk of its teeth. self as he giggle. Paul stood and wiped the tears from his eyes. As he watched the bludgeon TV spurt sparks, he let out a giggle too. Soon we were all cheering and howling at the pathetic husk, as a catman bashed it as if it were a piñata. Hits! Hits! Hits! They handed Paul the bat, and he started hitting it himself. I wanted to wait in line, but then Jasper jumped on me and started clawing at my face while hooting as the door people shouted for us to fight.

In the back of my mind was a panicked concern over whether this was just a game, but it just made everything less fun to voice at. So I fought back. The door people screeched as we rolled on the floor. Jasper's hands and feet jabbed at me, and I kicked back until he yelped with me on top of him, just as I was about to stop. I felt someone tapping on my back as if it were a drum.

and I was overtaken by chuckles as Jasper squealed. The chuckling gave way to bull-throated, hearty gbaws, as I punched him in the face again, so hard that it forced one of his eyes closed. I scratched him and left red trails on his neck. He yelped and begged me to stop, but I kept sniggering and hitting him. One of the door people leaned down and shouted in his face.

Gaird, scared boy I got up and kicked Jasper one last time as he lay on the ground, whimpering. A few of the door people followed by kicking him after me, and he rolled over coughing. Then they pulled him to his feet and padded him on the back. When he looked up, one of them slapped him in the face. Everyone in the room broke out into hysterics, including Paul and I. Jasper tried to produce a chuckle.

The tears welled up in his eyes as he let out forced, ugly sounds that barely resembled laughter. One of the door people leaned forward and whispered into his ear. He nodded, looked at me, and smiled. Thank you for showing me that I was the scared boy. Jasper wiped his eyes. I want to be brave, just like Paul and Phoebe. The gorilla man slapped him hard on. the back.

We fix it. Come into the doors. The doors? The brave girl can come too. Into the doors. We were all ushered away from Paul, who kept shrieking and hammering the bat against the TV as he cackled like the mad scientist that he'd seen on it. The door people led Jasper and I to the downstairs closet and swung the door open.

It was dark inside, like the bathroom. Too dark. Phoebe? Yeah? I know I said I wanted to be brave, but I don't know what's going on. They've never acted like this before. I'm really scared.

I clapped Jasper on the back just the way the door people had, and I tried to ignore what he was saying because it was ruining the game. We all pulled him into the closet, and when we pushed through all the jackets and hats and disorganized boxes, We found ourselves emerging from another doorway.

It opened up into a dark room, a candle on a small table barely provided light, and rows of animal faces lined one wall. Rows of animal skin body suits lined the other. Lying there, chained to an iron stake jutting out of the ground, was a shivering, half-starved black dog. One of the door people took a machete-length knife off the wall and put it into Jasper's hand.

He closed Jasper's fingers around it and squeezed them to help him make a firm grip. The dog darted away and sent itself reeling as it pulled its chain suddenly taut. It scrambled on the ground, shooting a terrified look toward Jasper, letting out small, whining noises. I remember giggling in that moment

at how pathetic it looked. Jasper shook. His lip. Quivered. Kill the dog. The doorperson turned to the others and waved his hands like a composer. Kill the dog. Kill the dog.

Something caught in my throat as I looked at the knife and a chasper. The full reality of everything that was happening and about to happen broke through my manic joy. Kill the dog! Kill the dog! I took a few deep breaths and found the ecstasy from before. It made the words come easier. Jasper looked directly at me, chanting. His face turned white, and his lips quivered.

Then his grip tightened on the machete, and his face hardened. He turned and stepped forward. The dog lowered its ears and rolled over, showing him its belly in submission. We kept chanting. My fear was a distant and alien thing that I couldn't remember being attached to. All that was left was a sense of playful unity, this joy of chanting with them. As a chorus rose in volume, I shouted with the rest. Kill the dog. Kill the dog. Kill the dog. Kill the dog.

Jasper swung the knife down. The dog did not die instantly. It pled, cried, whimpered. The door people kept chanting. As Jasperer brought down the knife down. knife again, cutting into the dog inefficiently, non-lethaly. We all demanded for him to continue. He listened, and he did. We stopped once the dog's body was still and silent. The gorilla man stepped forward. He took the machete from my brother's hands, then put it to the dog's face and cut at it. He skinned its head and neck. Then he took that skin and turned to Jasper. He pushed him down to a kneel as all the door people began to hum. They formed a chorus as a gorilla man put the dog face over Jasper's head. When Jasper stood up again, he was a dogman. He was a door person.

Goodbye, Phoebe. Before I could respond, the door people pushed me out of the closet toward the hallway back into my house. None of them followed. When the door slammed shut, I was standing alone. Paul stood at the edge of the stairs, the bat drooping in his hand. Pieces of television had been sent flying out as far as a boyer, and they lay scattered on the ground, taunting me with their need to be cleaned up. Where's Jasper? I opened the door and saw nothing but a closet behind it. I let out a short breath that turned into a guffaw, then a laugh.

I pawed through the closet as those noises transformed, to a series of wimper's jasper i got up and ran through the house throwing open and slamming shut every door i would keep doing it screaming his name into them pleading for him to come back even if it brought the rest of the door people with him fine it's my fault i would beg the doors for years after just like mom and dad say it is i'll tell them i was lying the whole time i'll lie to them and say they were good parents, or I'll scream the truth at them. I don't care what you need me to do, Jasper, but I'll do it. Please, just come back. I would beg these things of the doors for years, and the doors would never open. But for then, for that night, I gave up and fell into myself,

sobbing. Phoebe? Something new sunk into his voice, an unrehearsed tremor that I'd never heard before. Phoebe? Where's Jasper? As the fires wane and embers glow, our stories cease as shadows grow. The night is long and darkness deep. Remain with us. Embrace No Sleep. The No Sleep podcast is presented by Creative Reason Media. The musical score was composed by Brandon Boone. Our production team is Phil Mikulski, Jeff Clement, and Jesse Cornett.

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