The NoSleep Podcast - S17 Ep20: NoSleep Podcast S17E20

Episode Date: April 17, 2022

It’s Episode 20 of Season 17. Our spells force things out of us. “If You Give Him a Tooth, He’ll Play You a Memory” written by Samuel Singer (Story starts around 00:06:05) TRIGGER WARNING! Produced by: Phil Michalski Cast: Sam Singer – Jesse Cornett, Luke – Kyle Akers, Piano Man – Peter Lewis, Bonnie – Mary Murphy, Rupert – David Cummings, Baseball Cap Man – Mike DelGaudio “Getting Rid of Your Demons” written by Robbie Slaven (Story starts around 00:31:35) TRIGGER WARNING! Produced by: Phil Michalski Cast: Narrator – Elie Hirschman, Voice – Elie Hirschman “The Rules of the Road – Traveling Alone” written by C.B. Jones (Story starts around 00:39:40) TRIGGER WARNING! Produced by: Jeff Clement Cast: Leslie – Wafiyyah White, Jamie – Atticus Jackson, Buck Hensley – Mick Wingert, Man – Graham Rowat, Panhandler – Kyle Akers “Goat Valley Campgrounds – Chapter 7” written by Bonnie Quinn (Story starts around 01:03:15) Produced by: Phil Michalski Cast: Kate – Linsay Rousseau, Kate’s Mom – Nikolle Doolin, Laura – Kristen DiMercurio, Sheriff Sabotta – David Cummings, Little Girl – Nichole Goodnight, Man with No Shadow – Graham Rowat, Laura’s Dad – Jeff Clement, Girl at the Party – Kelly Bair, Town Local – Brandon Boone “Journey Through One Man’s Strange Reviews” written by L Pudney (Story starts around 00:59:00) Produced by: Phil Michalski Cast: Narrator – Erin Lillis, Reviewer – David Cummings, Hospital Admin – Sarah Ruth Thomas, Restaurant Management – Danielle McRae, Pawn Shop Owner – Graham Rowat, Reviewer’s Brother – Matthew Bradford, Funeral Home Management – Kristen DiMercurio “Johnny BlackJack” written by Marcus Damanda (Story starts around 01:16:10) TRIGGER WARNING! Produced by: Jesse Cornett Cast: Tara Anders – Jessica McEvoy, Zachary Blake – Dan Zappulla, Manny – Atticus Jackson, The voice on the porch intercom – Nichole Goodnight, Stevie – Matthew Bradford, Lars – Elie Hirschman, Johnny BlackJack – Jeff Clement This episode is sponsored by: Truebill – Truebill is the new app that helps you identify and stop paying for subscriptions you don’t need, want, or simply forgot about. Start cancelling today at Truebill.com/nosleep. It could save you THOUSANDS a year. Quip – Quip is the good habits company for oral health. With their leading-edge electric smart toothbrush combined with dentist-recommend scheduled replacement plans for brush heads, toothpaste, floss, chewing gum, and mouthwash – Quip makes oral care easy and affordable. And if you go to getquip.com/nosleep right now you’ll get your first refill FREE Click here to learn more about The NoSleep Podcast team  Click here to learn more about C.B. Jones  Click here to learn more about Marcus Damanda   Executive Producer & Host: David Cummings Musical score composed by: Brandon Boone “If You Give Him a Tooth, He’ll Play You a Memory” illustration courtesy of Krys Hookuh Audio program ©2022 – 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

Audio horror, why we have so many chills and thrills coming your way, you won't be able to handle it all. Hold it right there, mister. Speaking of not being able to handle too many things, let's talk about all these bills. How many services are we subscribed to? Uh, uh, not many, I'm sure. We have the usual 18 streaming services, the dozens of software subscriptions. Then there's the, uh, Baclav, the month club, and the... You see?

That's a lot of... of money going out each month. I think it's time for us to get help from True Bill. Yeah, you're right. True Bill is the new app that helps us identify and stop paying for subscriptions we don't need, want, or simply forgot about. No one needs Baclava on a monthly basis. Says you, but I get it. Companies make subscriptions hard to cancel. That's why True Bill makes it incredibly simple. Just link your accounts and True Bill will cancel your unwanted subscriptions in one tap, And your True Bill concierge is there when you need them to cancel unwanted subscriptions, so you don't have to. True Bill has over 2 million users and helped save them over $100 million.

True Bill empowers you to save more, spend less, see everything, and take back control of your financial life. You mean no more baklava? Correct. The Baklava scam ends today. Okay. And our listeners don't have to fall for subscription scams either. Start canceling today at truebill.com slash no sleep. Go right now.

Truebill.com slash no sleep. It could save you thousands a year. Truebill.com slash no sleep. Doesn't that feel better? All I feel is a craving for bacclava and audio horror. Oh, good thing you have lots to share. Let's sink our teeth into it right now. 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. The sleepless tales commence, fellow travelers. I'm your guide, David Cummings. So I've been working out the details of my upcoming vacation. As a famous celebrity, I'm used to staying in the best hotels, traveling via private jet, dining out at the finest restaurant, with an ever-revolving circle of my celebrity friends.

In May, though, things will be different. Gold Meadow is a special kind of resort. According to the pamphlet, spend time in a rustic cabin. Go orienteering through our mystical orchards. Trek through the woods. Can you find the rumored witch's cabin? Explore the ruins of the former village,

affectionately called Old Gold by resort staff, and maybe find a treasure from a... bygone era. Feast with the other holiday makers in our large dining area constructed on the site of the old village's festival hall. Go boating, canoeing, and even jet skiing on Lake Orrelia. Orr, as a group, dive beneath the surface with a train staff member for a guided tour of the flooded church, where Reverend Booth once delivered his sermons. And if you prefer a calmer change of pace, then visit our small museum, chronicling the beautiful yet tragic. history of Gold Meadow. Read about their customs, globally unique to this almost inaccessible

village in the middle of nowhere. Check out the small yet meaningful items we've managed to salvage from days whence. And they're internationally renowned, but did you know that iconic mega-hit band Aquatofana began life in Gold Meadow? And it was in Gold Meadow that they wrote and first performed their breakout hit, Year of the Goat, which led to their superiors. And if you don't mind struggling to sleep at night, why not read the theories of what happened that day in 1967, when the entire town disappeared without a trace? As a VIP guest, you'll be part of the first group invited into Gold Meadow in over 50 years. We hope you enjoy your stay. So there you go. That's just some of what the pamphlet promises.

But, uh, hmm, now that I think about it, Something in that last paragraph strikes me as incorrect, but I can't put my finger on why. Ah, well, in time, I suppose. Now let's get on with this week's haunting episode. In our first tale, we join a man who lives in a strange town called Habitsville. Some of you may have taken a trip to Habitsville with us before, and for others it may be a first-time visit. And in this tale, shared with us by author Samuel Singer,

we're invited to hang out in a particularly unusual joint. I join Jesse Cornett, Kyle Acres, Peter Lewis, Mary Murphy, and Mike Delgado in performing this tale. So let's head to the piano bar and listen to a peculiar musician tinkling the ivories. Rumor has it, if you give him a tooth, he'll play you a memory. Not far from my place in Habitsville, there's a piano bar. It's literally called the piano bar. One of those places, with the ironically obvious name. I've never been there before. I know yet another place in my own hometown that I've never visited. I don't get out much. I had heard about the piano bar from our new intern at the Habitsville Gazette.

Luke. Luke is a young, goofy kid in his second year of college. And if I had to guess, I wouldn't say he was particularly socially skilled or especially popular. He wore those very large, square, wire-framed glasses that made him look far too intellectual, even though, in reality, he wasn't at all. So I immediately thought it was odd that he frequented a high-int piano bar in downtown Habitsville. The music that drifted out of it was always either classical or jazz, and the people I saw entering and leaving were always dressed up. But still, Luke continually vouched for the place,

saying that it had even become a nightly routine of his to finish up his work at the paper, then head down to the piano bar. And at first, I didn't think too much about his newfound passion. But then I noticed the holes in his mouth. I hadn't seen them initially. I believe this was because it was the back molar. that went missing first.

But after a few days, the gaps began creeping in towards the center, until I couldn't not see them. So even though it seemed sort of rude and I didn't know Luke all that well, I decided to ask, just as we were about to leave for the night. Hey, Luke, do you mind if I ask you an odd question? He smiled at me, that bright smile of the young and disillusioned, minus a few teeth. Go for it. I tried to keep my gaze from drifting to the peaks of thrashing tongue I could see through the dark spaces and his gums,

and instead strove to maintain eye contact. What's happened to your teeth? To my great surprise, he didn't seem offended or even taken aback by my sudden inquiries. Instead, his broken grin only widened. I told you, I've been going to that piano bar every night. I waited for more details to come, but none did. And that? Took your teeth?

He laughed, a wet, soft sound. I know it sounds weird, but trust me, it's worth it. And then he said something, something that for the life of me, I couldn't wrap my head around. If you give the piano man a tooth, he'll play you a memory. I opened my mouth to ask a follow-up question, but Luke's bag was already on his shoulder. I've really got to get going. You've got to get there kind of early if you wanted to play you a song, or else, you know.

But of course, I did not know. Luke seemed really anxious to leave, so I bid him good night. We both left, heading in opposite. directions, he to the piano bar and me to my home, to sit and stew over what I had been told. And then, the next day, Luke didn't show up for work. We thought he might have been ill, and like the kid that he is, forgotten to call in and let us know he wouldn't be coming in that day. But then the next day came, and still, there was no Luke. We sent someone to go around to his apartment and knock on the door, but there was no answer. I knew it was quite a leap in

logic to make, but the investigative reporter inside of me couldn't seem to shake the idea that the piano bar had something to do with Luke's disappearance. So that's why, on a Thursday night, I found myself severely underdressed and seated on a stool in the darkest corner of the mystery piano bar. There were all sorts in the crowd that night. People I had never seen, seen on the streets or in the shops around Habitsville. I wondered if they had traveled from out of town just to come there. But the main site was in the very center of the room. It was a huge piano, grand in every sense of the word. Although the bar itself was dimly lit and a tad smoky, every ounce of light in the space was reflected against the jet black sheen of the great instrument.

On top of the piano, in an odd sort of display, where an assortment of a small. objects. There was an elaborate hairpin with a metal bumblebee on the end, a few assorted rings, a pair of gloves. But there was one item in particular that caught my eye because they were so familiar. Large, square, wire-framed glasses. I could hear bits and pieces of ambient music coming from the keys, stroked by the fingers of one of the most striking human beings I had ever seen. the piano man. His hair was perfectly sculpted and his suit was dark green velvet with a silky black bowtie. His hands moved steadily across the keys, but his eyes weren't watching them. Instead, his irises nearly the same green as his suit, wandered over the chattering crowd, a content

smile on his closed lips. I jumped as a loud bell told throughout the room. though no one else seemed to share my reaction. Immediately, all of the patrons fell silent, and there was a great shift as each of them turned their attention and their bodies towards the piano man, like planets orbiting some bright sun. He had stopped playing, the final notes echoing in the air as he pulled his hands back

and gracefully stood up from his bench. He took a moment in the silence to gaze over the crowd, turning a full circle around the room. There was a moment when I felt, though, he met my eyes, and a shiver ran down my spine. Then suddenly, he reached out his arm and pointed. The woman at the end of his finger immediately turned red and uneasily gestured to herself.

Of course you. The piano man's voice was as smooth as silk and warm as summer. The woman clasped her hands. together, the look on her face, that of pure joy. She stepped forward, separating herself from the rest of the crowd. The piano man stared at her for another moment before sitting back down to his bench. There was a breath, a second of ringing silence, and then he played the most beautiful music I had ever heard in my life.

I'm not a big music person. I don't know composers besides the basics, and even length. actual music pieces. I'm more of a podcast guy to be sure, but there was something about this that was different. It was hypnotic almost. There was no way to tell how long the actual song was because from the moment it began to the second it ended, it was as though I was suspended in a trance of joyful de-realization. But eventually the last note was played. My eyes refocused, and I saw that although the song had quite an impact on myself, it was even more transformative to the woman the piano man had chosen.

She was sobbing, large tears rolling down her cheeks, her shoulders shaking with emotion. When the piano man stood up again, she immediately wrapped her arms around him. Thank you. Thank you. The piano man waited a moment, then gently put him. the woman back. The applause died down. The piano man looked the woman in the eyes, and then he grinned. And I could see, even from the corner where I was sitting, that he was missing teeth. There were three open spaces in his mouth, two on the bottom and one to the left of his very front teeth. He smiled at the woman who was still racked with the emotions the performance had brought on.

Then he spoke. Time for your payment. There was a flash of something like fear on the woman's face, but then she nodded, and she did something incredibly strange, something that I did not expect at all. She opened her mouth. The piano man raised his hand, the same one that had played the key so beautifully and elegantly.

He slowly brought it forwards. until the majority of it was in the woman's mouth. I could hear her breathing fast and weasy with the obstruction. Her eyes watered even more than they had before, and she let out a few high-pitched squeaks of pain. The piano man's arm began to vibrate with effort. The woman's face turned a violent shade of red, and then... The piano man's hand reemerged, and I could see it between his fingertips.

pink with blood, but shining all the same, was one large tooth pulled out to the root. A line of blood dripped from the woman's open mouth as she brought a comforting hand to the side of her jaw. She stepped backwards to her spot in the crowd. A few patted her on the shoulder, but most had their attention still turned to the man in the green suit in the center of the room. He stared at the tooth and held it aloft to the light, as though admiring a pearl he just pulled from a clam. And then he did something that's so odd, I doubted I had seen it correctly. He threw it directly up in the air, like tossing a coin, and as it fell down, he opened his jaw wide and caught it in his mouth. Then, with one heavy wet sound,

he swallowed it. But he wasn't done. He brought one of his hands to his face, the thumb and pointer finger pressed into a crescent. He stuck his fingers into his mouth, breathed in hard, and then exhaled. There was a high-pitched whistle, and then an audible snap resonated in the room. The piano man paused. Then he smiled for his audience, and I could see that which was impossible. One of the spaces in his bottom teeth had filled in, as though nothing had ever been missing to begin with. It was incredible. Of course it was incredible. He did it one more time that night,

nearly the same, start to finish. Only it was a man the second time, and the melody he played was a bit different. Sadder, somehow, but still absolutely riveting. He pulled the tooth, swallowed it, whistled, and the other spot on his bottom row was filled in. And then, as the room watched in, silence, he walked away from the piano and out the front door of the bar. In a few minutes,

the patrons too left the piano bar. They milled about on the street outside chatting and smoking. There was no sign of the piano man, so I tried to glean some more information from the conversations of the various groups. I found the woman who was chosen for the first song, chatting with a man. It's amazing, isn't it? I saw her. I mean, I really saw her. I saw my mother. It's truly remarkable. A pity about the tooth, though.

I must have been standing a bit too close to them because soon the man seemed to notice that I was lurking nearby. Can we help you? He gave an unsubled glance at my lackluster wardrobe. I was just wondering. I mean, I wanted to know. It's hard when your questions are so big to put them into the confines of words. What was that in there?

The woman raised her eyebrows. Have you never been to the piano bar, dear? She winced, placing her hand back onto her cheek, which was starting to swell. I shook my head. Oh, well, what a treat for you. She attempted a smile, then dropped it once she felt the pain. It's really quite simple. The piano man takes a single tooth from you,

and in exchange, he'll let you relive a memory you've forgotten. Mash of my head. What do you mean a memory you've forgotten? Well, it's exactly as it sounds, boy. Be patient with him, Rupert. The woman looked back to me kindly. To be honest, no one's quite sure how he does it. But if the piano man chooses you, he's able to play you a song that will help you remember something you don't know you've forgotten.

Something you don't know is important. Her voice grew soft and misty and her eyes glimmered. I saw an afternoon with my mother when I was four. We had tomato sandwiches by the lake. She braided my hair. I was too young to remember, but now my mother's gone, and I want every piece of her that I can get. I tried to understand what she was saying. But your tooth?

She shook her head, once again fighting a smile back down. For the chance to have a bit more time with someone you've lost, what would you not be willing to give up? for something like that. I nodded, though the entire thing was difficult to believe. But there had been something about that music, something in the air, and the fact that people were so willing to pay in pain for each performance. Thank you.

I think. I think I'll come back tomorrow night. There was a falter in the woman's expression. Oh. The man put his hand on her. her shoulder and she stopped speaking. You do that, son. Come on, Bonnie, we've got to be getting home. The woman, Bonnie, looked at me for another moment, as though she wanted to say something. Then she turned, and the two of them walked back down the street. Despite the odd feeling that Bonnie

had given me, I did come back the next night. I sat in the same seat, a stool near the back, and the rest of the piano bar was almost identical to what it had been the first night, except for a few things. For one, the crowd was much smaller. It was thinned out considerably since the previous performance, and those that were here had an odd atmosphere to them. It seemed nervous, almost, a certain apprehension that hadn't been there before.

Secondly, the piano man had. himself wasn't playing idling little memories in the center of the room. Instead, he was playing with gusto at full volume. There was an energy to him that evening, an eagerness, and it was coming out in some of the most elaborate piano playing I had ever seen. Still, his eyes didn't watch his hands and instead scanned the room. I could see the one remaining gap in his teeth, black and hollow through the thin sneer of his lips. There was a man sitting next to me that night, and like me, he didn't quite seem like he belonged there. He wore a collared shirt and worn khakis, and I got the impression that those were probably the nicest clothes he had, something he wore to

church on Sundays. Despite this, he was wearing a faded blue baseball cap that was ripped around the brim, nearly falling apart. He was in his late 40s. He was in his late 40s. though his face was lined far more than his years would suggest. His hands were rough and cracked, and he picked at his fingers. He watched the piano man closely, and his leg shook restlessly. Are you looking forward to the show? He gave me a sideways glance, and his legs stopped moving. Yes?

No. I don't know. He paused for a moment, and I thought perhaps, that was all he was going to say. I just hope he picks me. Really? What are you hoping to see? He gave me another sideways look,

and I thought for a moment that I had overstepped. This was a personal thing, after all. But then, he answered. My son. Oh, I'm sorry. Yeah, well, he was so young when he... You know, And I wasn't much of a father then.

I wasn't around like that was supposed to be. When I was... He trailed off, and I could tell how much it pained him to even speak on the topic. He reached up, his fingertips brushing gently against the torn brim of his hat. This is the hat I got at the first baseball game we went to, first and only. He brought his hand back down to his last. I just want to see what I was missing, no matter the cost. I nodded, a brief pang of sadness resonating in my chest for this stranger.

Well, it seems like the cost is only one tooth. So that's not so bad, right? The man raised his eyebrows at me, and I immediately got the sense that I was missing something. The price is a bit steeper tonight, pal. Before I could ask any more questions, there it was again. The bell told, and all attention turned to the center of the room. The piano man finished his song with a flourish, and quite literally jumped up from his bench. He surveyed the crowd with excitement, his tongue peeking out of his mouth and licking his lips as he swiveled his head around.

Again, I thought for a moment that he had caught my eye and I fought to look away. Then, he raised his arm and pointed. The man next to me, whose name I never caught, got up from his stool and made his way to the center of the piano bar. Hello, sir. Thank you so much for volunteering. The man hadn't made any sound or gesture, as far as I could tell. Somehow the piano man could tell that he wanted to be chosen. The man didn't say anything.

The piano man stepped back around to his piano, sat at his bench, and began to play. I couldn't see the memory that the piano man's song played, but I could certainly feel it. It was like an aching nostalgia deep in my stomach for something I had never experienced. not just never experienced, something I had desperately yearned for. I felt that pure sensation of want so terribly. It made my eyes water. And then it was over. It was the shortest song yet.

I looked to the man. He was still standing straight, but his hands were clenched into fists at his sides. His hat was low over his eyes, but there was. There were tears rolling down his cheeks, and though he tried to contain it, a great cough of a sob came from his throat, strangled and sad. The piano man gave him a moment. Then he stood, grinning ear to ear, he put a hand on the man's shoulder. Time for your payment. The man hesitated, but only for a moment.

Then his jaw fell open, and he let the piano man reach inside. He didn't stick his hand in far, and in fact only grabbed hold of one of the man's front teeth. Then he began to pull. The man let out long groan as they struggled. And then, the piano man held the tooth aloft, an expression of sheer delight on his face. The man looked at it. His face stony. Then, just as he had the night before, the piano man tossed the tooth high up in the air,

threw his head back, and caught it in his mouth. He swallowed it. Then he brought his fingers to his mouth. The whistle was so loud and shrill. The members of the audience had to cover their ears. A trickle of blood ran down from my eardrums to my neck as I uncovered them. but I could still hear it when. The piano man smiled.

A full, complete smile. His teeth, if I can truly call them his teeth, shone like jewels in the light of the piano bar. Then he opened his jaw wide. Then he opened it wider and wider and wider. The man who had given him his final tooth hadn't stepped back to join the crowd. Instead, he stood his head down, his shoulders tensed. The piano man wiped his mouth and adjusted his velvet green suit.

He bent down and picked up the worn blue baseball cap that had landed on the floor of the piano bar. He glided back to his instrument and placed the hat on the gleaming surface. of his piano right next to the large, square, wire-framed glasses, then he smiled a toothless, gummy grin. It's amazing how far the field of medicine has come. These days, you can have many different body parts removed due to medical necessity and go on to live a perfectly normal life. Not everything can be excised, though. And in this tale, Shared with us by author Robbie Slaven,

a group of friends discover a company that claim to be able to remove things other than the physical. Performing this tale is Ellie Hirschman. So let's find out if this really is a wonder cure, or if it's just snake oil that's going to bite you in the ass when you try getting rid of your demons. It was my friend's successes that convinced me to try it. Results don't lie.

and two of my friends that I had forever seen as fuck-ups were now completely different people. Rob was the first to try it. He had been an alcoholic since our college days and had tried everything to be free from it. It had dragged him back into his own personal hell every single time he tried to escape it. One day, he told me that he had beaten it, all in the space of a day. Bullshit, I told him. The only way he was beating his demon would be through death. As the days passed, I realized he was telling the truth.

My self-destructing friend was now a changed man. He got a steady job, made amends with his family, and hell, even his wife took him back. The secret to his success? He had found a company in the city that promised they could get rid of any demon using technology. He said they hooked him up to a machine for about an hour, and straight away he felt cured. They didn't even charge him a lot of money. Bullshit. I said to myself.

Ted, my friend with anger and drug issues, followed suit, and suddenly he was a clean living inspiration of a man. Like I said, results don't lie. That's what led me to this miracle-working company. I didn't tell anyone I was going. Firstly, because I'm a private person. And secondly, because no one knew I had demons of my own. I wanted to keep it that way.

The waiting room was empty as I entered the building, quite surprising for a place that promised a magical quick fix in making people better versions of themselves. I felt stupid being there, but before I could change my mind, the receptionist smiled, asked me for my name, and told me to take a seat. Minutes later, a man came out and led me into a back room. He asked me what demons I wanted rid of, and I asked if it mattered. He said it didn't, but that one of the perks of his job was being nosy.

I told him I had pretty much everything going, and all my little demons had combined to make one big super demon, so he should just give me the works, full package. He laughed at this and said it was all the same price. No demon was too big or too small. I doubt that, I said to myself. Walking out of that building, I felt reborn. It's hard to describe.

It felt like a large part of my mind was my own again. I felt fresh, new, and limitless. I knew it wasn't a passing feeling. My demon really was gone. I walked all the way home in a days, feeling like I was looking at the world through new eyes. I went into my bathroom at home and stared at myself in the mirror. I shut the door behind me and turned to look at my reflection again.

I smiled. Suddenly the smile dropped from my face as I heard my front door at the end of the hall close, followed by footsteps coming in the direction of the bathroom. I live alone. Who the fuck was in my home? I quickly locked the bathroom door and backed away from it. The footsteps continued, then stopped just outside my door. I held my breath.

Who's out there? I finally managed to say. I'm calling the cops. I realized this wasn't an option as I had left my phone on the desk outside the bathroom door. I never bring it into the bathroom. Stupid move. Shit. Suddenly a piece of paper was shoved under the bathroom door.

Guess who? Was written on it? The writing was familiar. Too familiar. The bathroom I was in has no wind. and instead has an extractor fan, so I quickly realized I was trapped. Please, take whatever you want and leave. I swear I won't call the cops after you're gone.

I was interrupted by a laugh, full of amusement and malice from the other side of the door, before a voice, my voice, started to speak. Did you honestly think you could get rid of me? How many people did we kill together? Thirteen? Unlucky for them, right? You're not real. You were a voice in my head. My mind was spinning as I frantically looked around the bathroom for a way out.

My panic increased when I realized the only way out was through the door, through whatever was standing there. You know what the funny thing is? There were 12 people in that building after I was ripped from you. I showed up just after you left. You should have seen their faces. Now you'll be my 13th since I've went solo. The difference between me and you is I don't plan to stop there.

Now here I am, as trapped and helpless as my victims felt before the end. Some demons are too big to get rid of. Getting rid of your demons, that's one way to improve your overall health. It's a great idea. You could say a killer idea. Very funny. But good habits can mean good health, especially oral. health, which is why we recommend

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Earn amazing rewards like free refills, products, target gift cards, and more. Now, let's pull some strings and talk about flossing. Right. Quip gives you two ways to floss. Floss string that expands to clean, and reusable floss picks that replace over one 180 disposable picks with every refill. Freckin awesome. Watch your mouth.

Or at least wash your mouth with mouthwash. Ah, you mean with Quip's refillable mouthwash. That's a four-time concentrate, which is good for you and the planet. That sounds like a solid plan for optimum oral health. How can our listeners make Quip part of their daily routine? If they go to get quip.com slash no sleep right now. They'll get their first refill free. That's your first refill free at G-E-T-Q-U-I-P.com slash no sleep.

Quip, the Good Habits Company. Now, shall we return to some audio horror? We shall. But as you'll hear, we recommend not listening while you're driving. When you reach a big milestone in life, it can warrant celebrating. Going on vacation is a good way to do that. What about a cross-country drive? Sounds fun, right?

But in this tale, shared with us by author C.B. Jones, one woman's trek is interrupted by a mysterious broadcast and a presenter who is no stranger to dishing out advice. Performing this tale are Wafia White, Atticus Jackson, Mick Wingert, Graham Rowett, and Kyle Akers. So don't adjust your dial. Buck Hensley was worth tuning into last time, and I'm sure he will be here too. So let's listen to The Rules of the Road, traveling alone. You know, it's not very safe for a girl out there alone and on the road. This is something that I heard all the time. No matter the journey, no matter the situation, and no matter my history of traveling alone as a female without incident. I rolled my eyes in response to Jamie's words of caution.

It's just something I've never really had to think about. Like, as a guy. You know? Need to go down to the store by myself late at night. I'd do it without thinking. Drinking a bar alone, check. I can do it without getting creeped on. I mean, I guess I could get robbed,

but it might be less apt to jump a 180-pound guy versus whatever you're checking in at these days. Bitch, do you want to go? I will get you on the ground and have you tapping out. out in five seconds. Although it had been a few months, I had taken some Brazilian jih Tzu classes and had grappled my brother into submission many a time. He said he was going to go to a class so he could beat me, but he never did.

Ha ha, no thanks. I know how that'll end. Seriously, Les, just be careful out there. As your older brother, I'm obligated to tell you these things. things. If you could just wait a couple weeks until I get my time off, I could go with you. Can't wait. The mountains are calling me, and I must go. I've got a schedule to work around to, you know. You got your taser, pepper spray, knife? Yeah, yeah, yeah. Fine, fine. Well, I'll see you down there in a few weeks and update me on your itinerary as you go.

I don't need mom freaking out while you're off the grid. We'll do, brosuff. My older brother Jamie and I were close. About as close as a pair of siblings could get. Sometimes I could almost consider him my best friend. In fact, based on our long time shared history and his loyalty and consistency throughout our lives, he was probably best friend runner up.

I had planned this trip for a while now. Graduating from the University of Michigan, this past spring, I was taking a long summer trip before I had to start grad school in the fall. I was going on an epic cross-country trip, solo for big portions of it. I would start at Zion and arches down in Utah and then wind over to Yosemite and up towards the Pacific Northwest. I was meeting a guy from school down for some rock climbing and would meet other various friends along the way. My brother was planning on meeting me in Yosemite. I was looking forward to the adventure.

And so, with my bags packed, plenty of snacks and water, and a Spotify playlist I had labored over for the past week, I set off on the road. I didn't get out as early as I had wanted, The bed just seemed too cozy, but by 10 o'clock, I was heading west. I was just outside of Omaha by 11, and I found a Lakinta inn. After a mediocre continental breakfast, I was back on the road. I was planning on taking a more scenic route in my approach to Zion, cutting through the northern part of Colorado and making my way down.

After sobering up from a flight of beers at a brewery pit stop in Fort Collins, I was on the road once again and the night was all around me. By then, my road trip playlist was getting old, and my mind was numb and loopy. I was just about to turn it off and drive in sweet silence for a while when a song I was playing suddenly sped up, sounding like Alvin in the Chipmunks. I laughed at how it sounded while the speed devolved into a high. high-pitched wine. There was a thumping, followed by a voice emerging from my speakers. Bucks Hensley here with another episode of Rules of the Road. I interrupt your Spotify playlist

tonight with a special message from our sponsors. I'd like to tell you about a little product I have available known as Bucks Sassy Sasparilla. Feeling a little down, a sip of Bucks Sassy Sassie Sperilla will perk your ride up. Feeling a little too up and on edge, a sip of Bucks will calm you right down. Feeling a little too constrained by the linear progression of time and casual events, a sip of bucks will get you all shook up and allow you to experience everything all in one. It's available in all stores near you, provided you know how to ask and you know the secret password. Just wink at the clerk, give them a thumbs up and say, I'm looking for that sassy sweetness. What was this? Hadn't I paid for premium with no ads? I listened on and I found it humorous.

I had needed something besides music anyways. You know, it's not very safe for my spine. Those familiar words. It's not very safe for a boy or non-bide. And it sure as hell ain't that safe for a genderless individual who has transcended their corporeal body. The road is just a plain, dangerous place. Wouldn't it be nice to have a little protection out there? Someone looking out for you?

will follow tonight's rule of the road if you desire a little more security and reassurance. It's extremely simple. If at any point during your journey you come across a panhandler with a cardboard sign and a dog toss him a couple bucks. He's been on the road for a long time and his dog is hugged closely.

Panhandler is tall. Something has its own little coat of them. You seem skeptical. And I get that. I know what you're going to say. You're going to say, Buck, it's 20 dang 20. Nobody carries cash anymore. I'm lucky if I have 50 cents in my ashtray. Why, just the other day I blew through a toll station and the alarms went off and I thought I was a goner and a fancy bells and whistles, apple locations on my smartphone.

I say, fair enough. Cash on you when you take a long journey. That's just plain old common sense. What if you run into a toll road? What if you find the world's best taco truck and they only accept cash? What if you pull over at a rest stop and they have a soda machine and it's serving Buck's sassy sasperilla? All of those things would be a huge inconvenience to be unable to pay for and things you could avoid if you had some scratch on hand.

But if you don't have cash or you just straight up ignore the warning, and this is what will happen. Business opportunity. May it simply rise up and meet you. Again, I'm Buck Hensley. The monologue shut off instantly. return to my playlist. I turned it off and I drove silently. The radio program or advertisement or whatever perturred me a little. I was thinking about emailing Spotify complaint. Being a premium subscriber and all, I wasn't supposed to receive ads. But besides the annoyance, I didn't like

how it had echoed what my brother had said prior to my departure. His very own words. It had to be a coincidence. It was a common sentiment, after all. I got creeped out and paranoid, especially driving on the dark roads through the mountains while the night got later and later. Why had I planned it this way? Why was I in such a rush? I was missing all the pretty mountains by driving through them at night. I should have stayed the night in Fort Collins. I barreled on ahead. I was going to need gas soon, and I figured I could make it to steamboat springs. I was 25 miles to empty when I saw the signs for town, and I pulled off towards the first gas station that I saw. It was off the highway behind some trees. The lights were bright and the station looked empty. As I was pulling

into the station, I could see a tall figure walking down the sidewalk. He had a dog with him. They both were wearing coats. The figure had a big. ball cap slung down low over his face. In his other hand, he clutched a piece of cardboard to his side. I pulled next to the pump and looked at the man and his dog. They walked across the parking lot and sat down on a large decorative boulder in a flower bed with the yucca. The dog had a literal hoodie on, and it was pulled over his head. Aside from the four legs and wagging tail, you wouldn't have been able to tell what breed it was. It was a medium-sized dog,

and the hood seemed to cover a rather large head. I thought of approaching them. I had cash on me. I knew it was important. That was something but Kinsley didn't have to tell me. But was I really going to give money to every panhandler I saw with the dog from here on out for the next two months?

I pumped my gas, keeping a wary eye on the man and his dog. They were about 100 feet away. I could see the man reach in his backpack and pull something out and feed the dog. Excuse me, miss. I turned around. I hadn't even heard him come up behind me.

He was a wiry man with wild eyes and a tattooed tear on his face. His arms were ropes of muscle, dark with sleeves of faded tattoos. instinctively I reached for the knife in my pocket but before I can even do so there was a blinding flash in my eyes and pain across the bridge of my nose that almost brought me to my knees I cried out but that was met with rough and callous hands across my mouth it tasted dirty and gagged me I felt cold still on my throat and I heard him whisper in my ear as I struggled

against him. Or I'll slit your fucking throat, bitch, you got that? I nodded. My nose ate, and his hands pressed against it, making it worse. Warm blood and tears ran down my face, over my lips and into his hand. He gripped my face tightly, reached into my pocket, and got my knife. I like to think that in the face of such a thing that I would go down fighting, that I would put up more of a contest. than I did, that I would escape. Maybe all those victims out there thought the same, but I did nothing like that.

I went into a sort of autopilot in. In that initial moment, if he had told me to walk off a cliff or into traffic, I probably would have complied. As it was, he told me to get into the trunk of an old-looking sedan, and I did so. I laid in the trunk, claustophobic panic rising within me. I tried to stay calm.

It all had happened so fast. Surely someone had seen this happen. Someone had to have called the cops. The guy with his dog, did he see? My nose was still bleeding, so I pulled the front of my shirt up to put gentle pressure on it. I thought of screaming and kicking the trunk door. but I was afraid to anger my captor and what he would do to silence me if I did. I focused on my breath, and I took stock of my surroundings,

filling with my hands until my eyes adjusted to the dark. There were several objects of smooth plastic with liquid in them, containers of modal oil or anti-freeze. Then there were several metal cylinder cans of some type of spray. One can had a big plastic nozzle in a shape of a trumpet. I couldn't feel anything else, and I was hoping for a tire iron or something else as a makeshift weapon. The warm glow of the street lamps shone in through a rusted out hole in the lid of the trunk

while the car's tires hummed on the road. The vehicle slowed, and the texture of the road changed into something crunchy. There was no more illumination. We had left the high. highway and we are now going down some back road. The paths were winding and the car leaned into steep curves while I steadied myself against the trunk walls to keep from rolling around. I feared the worst. We were going out in the wilderness far from everyone and he was going to have his way with me. I would not let him and I vowed I would go down, fight him.

Finally, the car stopped. The engine turned off. Silence. Then I could hear his footsteps crunching on the gravel outside. See his shadow crossed the holes in the trunk. I rolled onto my stomach, face down, a can of spray in my hands. The trunk creaked open. The hinges bounced.

Get out. I didn't answer. Sir. Get out. I lie still, playing possum. Get up, get up, get up. He slapped my ass hard. I still didn't move. He kneeled into the trunk,

grabbed me by the shoulder, and rolled me over. I saw his face and was ready. Since he had kneeled in to reach me, he was at close range. I hit him directly in the face and eyes with a full blast of waspray. He sagged back. I leapt out of the trunk as fast as I could,

the metal latch hitting the back of my scout, and then digging into my back, gashing me as I flew. He was rubbing his eyes, coughing and spitting, hunched over. At his beltline was a large sheep, with a knife handle sticking out of it. In my frantic rage, I sidestepped him as he gagged and sputtered, gripped the knife handle, yanked backwards. The blade came free, and I hammered it down into the small of his back again and again.

I managed three deep stabs in quick successions before he jerked up quickly, swinging his arm backwards, striking me in the face. I held steady, while he stumbled and windmilled like a dazed unskilled boxer. He swung at me again. I had the knife blade up and raked it across his forearm. He screamed and gripped his fresh wound. Seeing that he was distracted, for the briefest instant, I swung the blade at his face and other arm, then ran back away from him. He staggered around drunkenly and tried to rush me, but I was too far away and dodged him easily. He whimpered and fell to his knees, then crawled towards his vehicle and collapsed.

I stood watching him, panting. I could feel my blood running down my belly. back and head from the gashes I had suffered jumping out of the trunk. Out of nowhere from behind me, a voice spoke. Excuse me, miss. Do you have a couple bucks I could borrow? I almost jumped out of my skin. I whirled around and held out the knife in a defensive posture. My dog and I are starving. We've been on the road along, long time. It was the man and the dog. I had. I had a starving. I have a long, long time. It was the man and the dog I had seen at the gas station. He was tall with a dark complexion, and he looked clean.

I looked down at the dog and saw he was still wearing that hoodie. His owner reached down and pulled the hood back. My mind couldn't quite comprehend what I saw. The dog looked like a hit bull mix of some sort. It's fur, a mixture of white and gray. But the remarkable thing about the dog was that it had two separate heads. Each one panting with a pink tongue hanging out. There was so much going on at once.

I had just been kidnapped, had stabbed a guy multiple times, and now a man and his two-headed pit bull were asking me for money. And I didn't even have money on me. It was back at my car. I'll make it with you while. I went over to my bleeding captor, held my knife at him. He was on his stomach,

inching towards his car. I stepped on the back of his thigh, and he groaned. In the back pocket of his blue jeans was a bulge of a wallet. I bent over and plucked it out. Here you go. I handed it to the man with the dog. Take as much as you want.

He smiled at me. I'll take care of this from here. Your car's at the end of this gravel road. But did you need anything else? I think I can manage. As I went down the road, I could hear the other man's screams echo behind me. I checked the papers for Steamboat Springs all summer,

and there was never any mention of a dead body or vehicle found. My guess is that there was nothing left of the body and the car simply disappeared. I still see him sometimes as I'm out there, standing on highway exit ramps or outside of gas stations. He always gives me a little wave.

I feel like he shows up like this as a reminder for me. The near-death episode hasn't knocked me down. I still have that zest for travel. Do I still travel alone? Yes, but only because I've had a little extra protection ever since that summer night in northern Colorado. They may be right about traveling alone.

While I certainly had gotten out of that situation on my own, it could have ended so much differently. I still have the occasional nightmare and flashback and sick feeling when I think back on how I could have been raped and murdered. Take special precautions if you're out there by yourself, no matter who you are. Check in with people frequently and let them know your location. Practice situation awareness and have some means of self-defense.

And if you see a panhandler on the side of the road with his dog, toss him a couple of bucks. What have you got to lose? you really can't be too careful. Welcome to Goat Valley Campgrounds. Looking for a place to escape your busy life and reconnect with nature. Goat Valley Campgrounds features 300 acres of quiet forest and peaceful scenery for you to enjoy. Come meet Kate. She runs the place like her parents before her.

We know you'll enjoy your stay as long as you be. behave yourself and follow the rules. Your survival depends on it. The No Sleep Podcast presents Goat Valley Campgrounds by Bonnie Quinn. Chapter 7. I wonder what life was like back then, when everyone knew these inhuman things existed. It was just an ordinary part of life, I imagine. You did your rituals and carried your talismans, and when someone died to one of these creatures, you mourned them, just like you'd mourn someone that died of disease or any other natural way. I like to think that people were more careful back then, that predation from the inhuman things was a rare occurrence, but an accepted risk of life and people didn't look for someone

to blame. It's wishful thinking. My town knows inhuman things exist. We all grew up with the shadow of the forest and the creatures that lurked inside looming in the back of our minds. know the world isn't safe, but instead of doing their rituals and carrying their talismans, they spent generations looking for someone to blame. That blame falls on the campground, as if things would change if we were gone. They don't blame us for the people that die. They would die regardless of my family's presence. They blame us for not being able to live in happy ignorance like so much of the rest of the world. The campground reminds them of their helplessness, and they hate me for it.

My name is Kate, and this is Goat Valley Campgrounds. The man with no shadow is why I had no friends growing up. I suppose it was better that way. We're lucky that no one got hurt, at least not while we were kids. I don't know when it started. The man with no shadow plans for the long term. He befriends his victims and then waits years sometimes before using their trust to carry out his bidding.

He's different from the rest of our camp. ground inhabitants in this respect. The majority of them are creatures of impulse and instinct, acting on their desires as they arise. Few plan. Few think ahead. This difference between them is what makes the man with no shadow dangerous. It's unnerving to think that he could have had my best friend in his sway for years. What did she tell him?

Was there anything of substance he could have learned from me secondhand at such an early age? Or did she listen in on my parents' conversations when they were in the kitchen talking in low voices so that we wouldn't overhear. Did she look around their office when no one was around? My parents questioned her after it was discovered. But all she would say was that her friend had said not to tell, and so she wouldn't. I remember the end. The last time I had friends over to the campground. Before then, I felt like a normal kid. I was eight. I attended school, and while I wasn't popular, I certainly wasn't bullied, and my classmates treated me with respect. No doubt there were conversations around the dinner table about how my family was the reason their parents had livelihoods and they were not to hassle my brother and I, just in case.

I like to believe my parents wouldn't have retaliated. Yet I've told you of the times I've killed a camper or an employee and you know that I learned that from someone. Perhaps I was a bit conceited, and I certainly enjoyed the attention of my peers, but I wasn't overtly cruel. I was mean in subtle ways, in how I made those around me feel lesser, simply by how I put myself above them. And then I made them love me by deigning to grant them my notice. I netted me a number of loyal friends, girls that responded to this sort of manipulation.

There was only one that I considered my peer. arrogant and intelligent like me, canny and sharp like a whip, a skinny girl with wild hair and coiled energy nestled inside like a snake ready to strike. Her name was Laura, and she became my best friend. We loved the woods. We'd sneak into the tree line at recess

and climb the rocks and trees until the teacher saw us and yelled for us to come out. Then we'd go right back in once their backs returned. We made our own elaborate games of make-believe, and Laura and I were both queens of our own lands, and all the rest of our friends were our subjects. We'd wade war with sticks and array our armies against each other until the teachers yelled at us again.

The campground was a much better playground for us. There were no teachers to yell. Just my parents and the staff during daylight hours. In the well-trafficked parts of the campground, there was little danger. We were just told to not bother the people here that camp. Who's that over there? Don't the people who camp here stay out of the woods?

Not always. They don't have to stay on the roads. That's odd. He doesn't have a shadow. Look, there's the tree I told you about. See, you can climb really high in it. I told my dad I want him to build me a treehouse in it. You're going to get a tree house?

He said he'd think about it. If you're taken aback at the idea of a bunch of young children playing in the woods of my campground, I should remind you that we see a lot of people pass through every year and most of them return home safely. It's only the unwary or the exceedingly unlucky that have come to harm. Your perception of my campground is perhaps a little skewed because I've told you the worst of it. Because that's what's interesting. None of you read these posts to hear about how someone spent two weeks reading in a hammock and taking nab. We sometimes split up for our games.

It's apparent why the man with no shadow targeted Laura, She was always the leader of the other team, and I, the leader of the other. I'm not sure how we separated her from the others. Or perhaps he didn't. Perhaps they forgot what my parents told them as well. But at some point, during our friendship, he approached her, and they talked, and then she belonged to him. It doesn't take long for the man with no shadow to claim a new servant. One conversation.

Maybe two, depending on how strong the victim's will is. If you encounter a stranger, coerce him into the sunlight quickly. Speak as little as possible until you can see if he has a shadow. The man with no shadow waited until my birthday to use Laura against my family. I wanted to sleep over, and since my birthday is close to Christmas, my parents tried to ensure it felt special by letting me do whatever I liked. We were put in the living room with sleeping bags and snacks, and my brother was allowed to hide in his room and play video games all night

while we watched movies and shrieked and laughed. At some point, I fell asleep, along with a handful of my friends. Laura woke them up, careful not to disturb me. Shh, it'll be a surprise for Kate. Don't wake her up. What kind of surprise? I'll tell you, when we get there, just get up and get your shoes on. We are going to go into the forest.

But I'm tired. It's a birthday surprise. Quit being so lazy and thought. Follow me. It was Laura asking, and they obeyed her as easily as they obeyed me. I continued to sleep until the cold air creeping in from the front door woke me. I was disoriented and then frightened, realizing that my friends were gone and the front door hung open. I ran to it, terrified that my parents would find out because they had told us over and over and over

that we were to never leave a window or door open overnight. The little girl sat cross-legged just on the other side of the doorway. I hesitated, reluctant to be so rude as to shut the door in her face. You didn't come inside. I can't. Only proper residents of the house can invite me in. Where'd my friends go? Into the forest.

Oh. The man with no shadow wants to see you. He's waiting by the edge of the woods. Is it safe to go to him? She shrugged in rose, smoothing her white skirt with her palms. Nothing is safe. You just try to pretend otherwise. It was only 1 a.m.

There was still time to find my friends and get back to the house before the beast showed up. This was what I told myself. I thought that if I woke my parents, they'd be so angry at my friends, but especially at me for not keeping them safe. I didn't want any of us to get in trouble, and so I resolved to fix this before morning. I left through the front door, shutting it behind me, reasoning that because my friend had opened it instead of me, then I would be safe from the little girl. And I was. She stood a short distance away and watched, but I'm not sure if that was because my logic was correct or if she just didn't want to kill me until I was an adult.

I found the man with no shadow out by the trees, just as she'd said. He changes his appearance periodically. At the time, he was dark-haired, tanned, tall, and muscular. He crouched as I approached so that I didn't have to stare up at him so much. Are you looking for your friends? I can take you to them. My parents said I can't talk to you. Bad things happen to everyone that does. Then I won't talk. This seemed like an acceptable compromise,

and when he stood and walked away, I followed. I was afraid, but not nearly as afraid as I should have been. Not enough to turn back. The things in the woods treat children differently. Some of the beasts are mindless things that make no. no distinction and view all humans as mere meat. But the ones that do understand? There are conditions that have to be met first before they'll harm a child. The trial, a right of passage, a failure to grow. The man with no shadow was my trial, but not at this time, not until much later. When I was

eight, I was merely the tool which he wielded against my parents. He took me to the grove with the stones. Giant, moss-covered boulders dug up by glaciers hunkered in the middle of a small clearing. This was where the man with no shadow could be typically found. I don't think he has much power outside the grove. Aside from his ability to persuade and thus entrap minds, I've seen him exhibit no other power outside its boundaries. He stepped aside and let me enter the clearing. My eyes had adjusted to the dim moonlight by that point, and I could make out the outlines of bodies. seven girls sitting with their backs against the boulder and their chins trooping to their chests.

I went up to Maria and put a hand against her chest to feel that she was still breathing. Now run and tell your mother what you've seen. He stood behind me, content to let me inspect his handiwork uninterrupted. Tell her that if she wants these released, then I must have something in exchange. What did you do to them?

I suppose I could explain, but aren't you not supposed to talk to me? Now go. His last word ran through me like an electric shock. I did as he bid. I turned and ran from that clearing. Tears obscuring my vision, stumbling through the darkness with only one desperate thought in my mind. My parents could fix this. The silent, still forms of my friends haunted my mind and I thought,

If I'd been smarter or more careful, or maybe if I didn't have friends at all, then this wouldn't have happened. I was incoherent when I woke my mother. She quickly hushed my sobs and extricated herself from the bed, careful not to wake my father as well. Then, in the kitchen, I sat and gasped hysterically, getting my words out one at a time until my mother was able to put the pieces together. Did he do something? Yeah! Is he the reason your friends aren't here? Stay in the house. I'll go get them.

She put on shoes and a jacket and went to deal with him. And when she came back, my friends were with her, pale and shaking. Laura, however, was serene. And she smiled at me. And this didn't escape my mother's notice, for she took Laura aside and questioned her separately from the other girls. Then she took Laura to the car and drove her home. My parents sat me down the next day after everyone had gone.

and told me I couldn't be friends with Laura anymore. They knew that would be hard because I was close to her, and she belonged to the man with no shadow now, and she wasn't safe. I wondered what he promised her. We were rivals sometimes. I saw the jealousy in her eyes in a rare moment when she thought I wasn't looking. I wonder if he said he could make her greater than me. At school on Monday, I found that Laura was the only one that would speak to me, and I refused to associate with her, just as I'd been instructed. Kate, I'm sorry I had to leave your birthday party early. Your mom is kind of mean, isn't she?

Kate? What's the matter? Go away. What's your problem? Don't walk away from me? Let's go with me. The problem is you talk to the man with no shadow, and now we can't be friends anymore.

It's not safe. Kate? Kate! Ugh, fine. Who wants to be friends with you anyway? Your whole family is weird. and when I went to sit with my other friends at lunch, they all got up and left,

leaving me sitting alone at the table. That's how it was after that. I think their parents told them to stay away from me, just as I was told to stay away from Laura, and all the rest of the kids followed their example. I was desperately lonely from that point on and spent my recesses in the library, where the librarian took pity on me

and gave me her favorite books to read and talked to me when they were. no one else would. I didn't really interact with Laura again until after our high school graduation. My family held a party for my graduation, even though I'd said I didn't want one because I knew none of my peers would attend. It was just aunts and uncles and so many cousins and all the campground staff, which was kind of them. Some of them even brought gifts. One brought me a small ironing board in an iron, which I used well past college until the handle of the iron cracked and fell off.

At one point during the party, I stepped outside to get away from the crowd. My parents' house wasn't made to accommodate that many people. Someone was walking down the path leading from the campground entrance, a person in robes wearing a cap. For a brief moment, I was elated,

thinking that perhaps one of my classmates had actually come to my party. I hurried to meet them. Then slowed and stopped as I realized who it was. Laura. Laura was here. You still don't trust me?

You could have gotten them all killed! But no one was actually hurt. Besides, aren't you the one that put us all in danger? Me! Yes, you! She looked around at the campsite. Her gaze lingered on the forest in the distance. Why would you invite us over here?

It's not safe for anyone here. If you just do as you're supposed to... You shouldn't have friends at all. Everyone around you gets hurt. Why didn't you realize this sooner? You could have kept us safe. But no, you just had to have friends. You deserve to be alone.

Shut up! You're just saying this because the man with no shadow puts you up to it. Really? That's your excuse? It's been a long time. The man with no shadow never lets people go. Never! No.

His voice came from somewhere just behind me. I hadn't heard him approach. I do not. Laura, kill her for me, won't you? Laura lunged at me, fingers outstretched, reaching for my throat. Her lips were peeled back in a soundless snarl, and her eyes were wide, and I thought I saw desperation buried inside them. Then there was no time left for contemplation, for we were falling,

hitting the packed dirt of the road, and her fingers were around my neck. I was the stronger one. I spent my evenings and my summers working on the campground. I don't recall exactly how it happened, but I seized her and threw her aside, and then I was over top of her, and it was my hands around her throat. I held her down while she thrashed beneath me, fingernails clawing at my face, frothed speckling her lips, and her feet kicking helplessly at the ground. I hated her in that moment, because she'd betrayed me, because she was the reason I'd been so lonely all these years. Perhaps that isn't fair. But that hatred was strong enough to give me the will to keep pressing down on her windpipe,

even as her chest convulsed in a desperate attempt to bring in air, even as her struggles subsided and she went still, even as a bluish cast settled into the skin around her mouth and eyes, and I held on long after she stopped moving, until she was well and truly dead. Through all of this, the man with no shadow watched impassively. No. You are of age.

And he walked away, leaving me there with the body of my former friend. I said earlier that the creatures of the forest won't harm children unless they fail their test. This was mine. The day I graduated high school was the day I first killed someone. It's when I realized that my childhood was officially over, and nothing was left to protect me from the dangers of this world. It's the day I finally understood that someday the beast and the little girl will be my doom

knew it in my heart and felt it in my bones. The man with no shadow plays a very long game. He hangs on to people their entire lives. I'm not certain what he's trying to accomplish or even if he has a specific goal in mind. Perhaps he merely takes opportunities as they arise, collecting those foolish enough to fall into his, grasp and keeping them until the day comes when he can make use of their naivete.

We evict anyone we catch conversing with the man with no shadow. They're banned from the campsite forever. We can't take risks. But even if the man with no shadow has no goal other than to cause trouble for us, what he did with Laura poisoned my relationship with the town before I even took ownership of the campground, there were many that whispered that I'd turned out just like my mother. For worse, they remembered my grandfather and the things he did. Perhaps my father was trying to be different, but the whole family tree was rotten. You can't fix people like us. I know who among the locals feel this way. I feel their hostile stairs when I go to get groceries. For a long time, that was all they could do. Try to make me feel uncomfortable when I left the campground. It was ineffective. Then they got Sheriff

Savada on their side and things got worse. They started to call town hall meetings. I thought they were just trying to waste my time. It wasn't anything they could really do to me after all. The campground was private property. The town would never have majority support on doing anything underhanded that would make running it infeasible. I should have realized what they were doing. They were building my reputation for me. Look, it's Kate again, being called to the town hall to answer for something that happened to the campground. She's just like the rest of her family. Do you remember how she killed someone when she was only 18? I was called to a town hall meeting over what happened at the town fair. It was inevitable. I'd mentally prepared myself for it in advance. My presence wasn't required. They couldn't force me to

come. But when I received the letter that all the locals got, I knew I had to be there. There wasn't much I could say. Yes, the man with the skull cup left the campground. Yes, People were poisoned, but no one was seriously hurt and certainly no one died. The man with a skull cup is more of a trickster, nothing to be concerned about. Hopefully, no one would bring up that he has killed people before. I'm not sure if they know. We keep the campground's business as quiet as we can, even from the locals. My heart sank when I parked outside the old town courthouse that hosted our meetings. The parking lot was already full. I try to be early, but from the quiet outside and the lights inside the building. It seemed the meeting had already started.

Someone had switched out my letter. Had been given the wrong start time. I grit my teeth, straightened my jacket, and marched inside. Laura's father was at the podium, wrapping up his ten minutes to speak. They'd timed this well, down to my habit of arriving precisely fifteen minutes early. I stoically ignored the murmur that ran through the crowd as I walked in. Oh, there she is. Glad to see how high the town ranks in your priorities, Kate. Car wouldn't start. Needed a new battery. Well, I was just explaining that it's perfectly within your character for you to stand by and do nothing.

Well, in human things, walk freely among us with malicious intent. Oh, come off it. No one was hurt. Oh, not this time. But it always escalates with the campground, doesn't it? That is a lie. If people just follow the rules. And even if you do survive one of those things,

there's no guarantee you'll be safe from the campground manager herself. Remember my daughter? How she was murdered on the day of her high school graduation? She tried to kill me. But did your parents try to keep it from ever getting to that point? Did they do anything to free people of the man with no shadow's influence? I was silent.

I honestly didn't know. But he took that as an admission of guilt. No, of course not. He turned his attention to the crowd, no longer addressing me, but speaking to the town instead. I seetheed, biting down the urge to explode with rage and further make his point.

Nor has Kate made any kind of attempt. Her family has always been good, at protecting themselves and the campground at the expense of everyone else. They'll tell you that it's not their fault, that these creatures can't be stopped, and that if everyone just did what they were supposed to, it wouldn't be a problem. Well, look what that's got us. I lost my daughter. Some of you may have lost others.

And now we've got those inhuman things walking freely among us while Kate stands by and does nothing. You know what happens if you or I are bad at our jobs? We get fired. Why is Kate special? I say the campground needs new management. Now look here. I don't see any of you doing anything about these creatures. You come running to us to take care of it.

When the devil came around, it was my mother that got him out of here. When the vanishing house swallowed up the old sheriff, I was the one trying to pull him out. So sure, let's see someone else take over the campground. You want to sleep in my house? Hear the girl crying outside your window? Go on, stand up. Let me see who's willing to do it. My heart pounded in my chest.

The room was silent, save for some. shuffling a feet and a nervous cough, no one stood. I allowed myself a thin smile of triumph. Of course not. If you've all got actual ideas on how we can better control the inhuman things out there, I'm willing to listen. But until then, don't waste my time like this. I've got a campground to run.

I almost made it to the door. Almost. It was my moment of triumph walking out of there in a heavy silence, knowing their bluff was called and there was nothing they could do to me. Then someone stood up. Well, won't matter what Kate wants soon enough. I've already told my people to stop covering up the deaths that happen out there. Words gonna get out.

My blood ran cold. It wasn't just my reputation he was threatening. The legal consequences could destroy the campground. It could destroy me. But that campground is also. So our livelihood, no one would come through here without it. I don't think that's true. And know what happens if it's sold?

It's not old land anymore. So that was it. That was what he was trying to do. I shoved the door open and stepped out into the open air, letting it fall shut behind me. The shouting vanished. It's our family that makes the land old. It's tied to our blood,

passed down from generation to generation. There's significance in that. If we sold it, perhaps it would retain some of its status, but it would be weakened. We've long known that our campground attracts inhuman things and keeps them out of the surrounding area. But now, after seeing the man with the skull cap unable to leave without my permission, I understand it a bit better. They aren't just attracted to my land.

They're trapped here. And my family are their jailers. What happens if we let them all loose? I couldn't let the sheriff get his way. I had to find a way to break his influence over this town no matter the cost. Because if I was removed and this campground changed hands, then all these creatures would be free to prey on far, far more than just a few stray campers. Goat Valley Campgrounds was written and adapted for audio by Bonnie Quinn.

Produced for the No Sleep Podcast by Phil Mikulski. Musical score composed by Brandon Boone Starring Lindsay Russo as Kate Nicole Doolin as Kate's mom Kristen DiMecurio as Laura David Cummings as Sheriff Sabota Nicole Goodnight as the little girl Graham Rowett as the man with no shadow

Jeff Clement as Laura's dad Kelly Bear as the girl at the party and Brandon Boone as the town local. Join us next week for Chapter 8 of Goat Valley Campgrounds. 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. Our creative content manager is Olivia White. Our editor-in-chief is Jessica McAvoy. I'm your host and executive producer, David Cummings. If you would like to find out how you can hear the extended editions of our audio program, please visit the No Sleeppodcast.com to learn about our season past program. 25 episodes each over two hours long and three exclusive bonus episodes, all for only $25.

On behalf of everyone at the No Sleep Podcast, we thank you for listening and for being under our spell. This audio production is copyright 2021 and 2022 by Creative Reason Media, Inc. rights reserved. The copyrights for each story are held by the respective authors. No duplication or reproduction of this audio program is permitted without the written consent of Creative Reason Media, Inc.