The NoSleep Podcast - S17 Ep3: NoSleep Podcast S17E03

Episode Date: November 21, 2021

It’s Episode 03 of Season 17. Our spells speak of places we aren’t meant to be.“We’re Not Supposed to Be Here” written by Paul DesCombaz (Story starts around 00:05:40)TRIGGER WARNING!Produced by: Jeff ClementCast: Narrator – Mike DelGaudio, Kristen – Kristen DiMercurio, Madame LeForte – Erin Lillis, Amy – Danielle McRae, Scott – Graham Rowat, Creatures – Erika Sanderson“The Rope on the Mountain” written by Elias Witherow (Story starts around 00:32:55)Produced by: Jesse CornettCast: Narrator – Kyle Akers, Man – Mick Wingert, Voice – Jesse Cornett, Singers – Sarah Ruth Thomas, Graham Rowat, Jeff Clement, Nichole Goodnight“Glass Faces” written by Themascary (Story starts around 01:05:30)TRIGGER WARNING!Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Narrator – Mary Murphy, Noah – Matthew Bradford, Dustin – Atticus Jackson“The God Chord” written by Mr. Michael Squid (Story starts around 01:18:45)TRIGGER WARNING!Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Narrator – Nikolle Doolin, Jeffrey – Jeff Clement“Flesh and Blood” written by K. Watts (Story starts around 01:32:00)TRIGGER WARNING!Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Edward – Andy Cresswell, Narrator – Dan Zappulla“The Crawler of Cantwell Cliffs” written by Annie Marie Morgan (Story starts around 01:49:40)Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Tiffany – Sarah Ruth Thomas, Sarah – Nichole Goodnight, Man – David CummingsThis episode is sponsored by:Betterhelp – Betterhelp’s mission is making professional counseling accessible, affordable, convenient – so anyone who struggles with life’s challenges can get help, anytime, anywhere. Get started today and get 10% off your first month by going to betterhelp.com/nosleepCaliper CBD – Caliper CBD is a fast, easy way to use CBD. With precise 20 mg doses of dissolvable powder which mix quickly and flavorlessly into any food or drink, you’ll be your merriest this holiday season with Caliper CBD. Get 35% off your first order when you use promo code NOSLEEP at trycaliper.com/nosleepClick here to learn more about The NoSleep Podcast teamClick here to learn more about Elias WitherowClick here to learn more about ThemascaryClick here to learn more about Annie Marie MorganExecutive Producer & Host: David CummingsMusical score composed by: Brandon Boone“The Crawler of Cantwell Cliffs” illustration courtesy of Jen TracyAudio 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

Hi folks, Cummings here. We've got some great horror for you coming right up. But I'm wondering, How are you? Me? Well, I'm okay, thanks. But I've been reflecting recently about what the past few years have been like for me. I think the main thing I've experienced is change. Since the start of 2019, I've gone through breakups, moved three times, gotten remarried, lost some dear loved ones, and dealt with that pesky little thing called the COVID-19 worldwide pandemic. I'm not sure I remember what normal looks like. And I know I'm not alone. We've all gone through our own upheaval and changes for better or worse.

That's where services like Better Help can step in. If you need someone to talk to or just to listen, they're a great option. Better Help will assess your needs and match you with your own licensed professional therapist. You can start communicating in under 48 hours. It's not a crisis line or platitudes for self-help. It's professional counseling done securely online. There's a broad range of expertise in BetterHelp's counselor network, which may not be locally available in many areas.

BetterHelp's service is available for clients worldwide. It doesn't matter when you need help, day or night. You can log into your account anytime and send a message to your counselor. You'll get timely and thoughtful responses. Plus, you can schedule weekly video or phone sessions so you won't ever have to navigate your way to someone's office. And BetterHelp is committed to facilitating great therapeutic matches, so they make it easy and free to change counselors if needed.

It's more affordable than traditional offline counseling, and financial aid is even available. So whenever you need some help dealing with changes or other life problems, visit BetterHelp.com slash no sleep and join the over 1 million people taking charge of their mental health with the help of an experienced professional. This podcast is sponsored by BetterHelp, and No Sleep listeners get 10% off their first month at BetterH-E-L-P.com slash no-sleep. So, like I asked, how are you?

Don't let life's changes get you down or make you feel out of control. Everyone deals with it, and everyone deserves a helping hand. Services like BetterHelp can offer just that. So remember, reach out for that helping hand by visiting betterhelp.com slash no sleep to get 10% off your first month. And now, let's change the subject and start the show. 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 toads declared. And from those days, both present and past, we beseech you now to brace yourself for the No Sleep Podcast. Leapeless Tales commence, fellow travelers. I'm your guide, David Cummings. Last weekend, I heard an urgent bulletin on the news about a polar bear that had gotten loose from a nearby zoo. While out for a very late night walk the next day, I rounded a corner and came face to face with the very same polar bear.

Imagine my shock. This encounter made me realize that I used to watch a lot of nature documentaries. and haven't revisited any favorites in a while. So this week I've been rectifying that, and I can even claim it's for work because of those wonderful narrators. Sigourney Weaver, Kenneth Brana, Forsyth Mercer, and Tilda Swinton, to name a few, and of course the inimitable Sir David Attenborough.

It did make me a little sad, though, watching a couple of Mercer's best documentaries. Missing persons' cases are always haunting, but the circumstances behind his disappearance in particular. Oh, well. Anyway, this is your annual reminder to make sure you respect the world around us. It's your duty as a human being to educate yourself on our life on this planet. And as well as nature documentaries,

another good way to do that is to listen to the No Sleep podcast. In our first tale, we join Kristen as she, along with her friend Amy, Head out to visit a psychic. Kristen has regrets, you see. Major regrets that can only be handled by psychic intervention. But in this tale, shared with us by author Paul Dicumba, we're reminded that sometimes even meddling with forces you do understand is a bad idea.

Performing this tale are Mike Delgado, Kristen Di Maccurio, Aaron Lillis, Danielle McCray, Graham Rowett, and Erica Sanderson. So try not to continue making regrettable decisions. You really don't want to find yourself saying, we're not supposed to be here. Before the seance began, Kristen slid her hand into her coat pocket and touched the dead mouse.

She ran her fingers over the strands of her husband's hair wrapped around its small shriveled body. The room and walls were crowded with artifacts from Madame Lefour's occultist collection. The whole place looked like a goth-sar-us fire sale. Still, according to Kristen's research, Lefour was the best medium in the city, the one who got real results. Deep in her other pockets, she stroked the dead finch,

its inside sewn full of dog teeth. Finches were tiny birds, so three of Harley's incisors was all Kristen could manage without splitting the bird wide open, like an overstuffed suitcase. She sighed and steeled her side, herself. Still touching the corpse, she closed her eyes, saw the flashing lights again, the air so hot

and thick it choked her lungs, heard the fluids dripping, the potent stench of gas and oil, the lime and alcohol aftertaste from the gin and tonics still coating the inside of her mouth. Through the shattered window, a dog lay in the ditch, not moving. The brain fog, the heaviness of her head making it so hard to move as she looked over at the passenger seat to see. Please, mother, no more pain. Please, mother, eat my pain away. A throat cleared. Kristen snapped from her days, let the corpses fall back into her pockets.

She conjured a fake smile, aimed it across the table at the impatient medium. Madame Lefour was a gummy, angry, angry. Giller woman, whose sharp features made it difficult to gauge her age. Anywhere from 40 to 60 was a safe bet. Next to Kristen was her ever-tolerant and always-available friend Amy. Amy, who had no family, no other friends. Perfect, helpful Amy, who had no idea how important she was to Kristen. Thank you.

Of course, Kay. Amy leaned in close. I'm up for anything if it gets you back to normal. Normal. What was normal anyway? When Scott and Harley died, Kristen's version of normal disappeared for good. What she wanted now wasn't anybody's idea of normal. A single candle flickered in the center of the smooth round table,

its flame throwing jittery shadows across the walls. Madame Lefour cleared her throat for a second time. Did you bring the items I asked for? Kristen nodded and produced the slobber-encrusted stuffed octopus dog toy from her purse. Harley was Scott's dog from before Kristen's time, part of a package deal that she embraced with all her heart. In quick time, the three of them had become inseparable, right up until she destroyed it all.

Lafour cradled the dog toy to her chest. She prodded the plush tentacles, moving her lips without saying anything. The cords in her neck strained against the flesh as she muttered to herself. Amy shot a furtive look at Kristen, an unsure grin forming. Kristen frowned, trained her gaze back on Lafour. Amy looked down. Contacting the dead was possible, if you didn't get chicken shit about the details. You might see your loved ones again if you stayed strong all the way through the process, no matter what happened.

And, after the seance, if it worked, there would be no going back. Please, Mother, don't let me live alone any longer. Madame LeFour placed the octopus on the table in front of her, as if it were asleep and she didn't want to wake it up. She steepled her fingers to her chin. Did you bring an item that belonged to your husband? Yes, it's right here. She lifted Scott's balled up t-shirt, still spotted with blood and smelling of gas. At the sight of the stained shirt, Amy grimaced.

For a second, Kristen hated her for her squeamishness. Didn't she know how serious this was? But of course she didn't. How could she? Lefour brought the shirt up to her nose. Very good. then we'll waste no more time. She snaked her arms across the table.

Join hands. Everything will be okay. Amy gave Kristen's hand a squeeze. Kristen squeezed back. Please, mothers. Let's begin. Madame Lefour sucked in a sharp breath, then blew out the candle.

Afterward, Kristen and Amy stood outside. The wind banged Madame Lafour's son. against the side of her building with a violent persistence. It was worth a shot. I'm glad you... We went through with it. Kristen stared past her, her thoughts as chaotic as a kicked hornet's nest. Without warning, Amy lunged across the sidewalk and wrapped Kristen in a bear hug.

Kristen hugged back, but all she wanted was some kind of sign that the seance had worked, that her faith in the mothers of the hungry mouth wasn't another fault. hope. She felt a weak warmth beginning to radiate from the depths of her coat pockets. Her muscles seized. She let go of Amy and reached down, grabbed the mouse and the finch in her hands, felt the pulsing heat circulate through her palms, out along her fingers, slithering up her wrists towards her heart. Nothing else mattered except being back with Scott and Harley. I'm so sorry he's gone. But it's not your fault.

Kristen wiggled out of Amy's embrace. They're gone, you mean. Harley died too, not just Scott. Kristen tightened her grip around the warming bodies, feeling the outline of teeth, a tight spool of her husband's hair. Being honest felt good for a change. She was sick of the constant emotional pantomime

she performed for other people, like it was her job to make everybody else feel at ease with her sadness, with the never-ending grief, with her fucking guilt. Amy's lips quivered. Don't say that, Kay. But Kristen hardly heard her. All thanks to the mothers of the hungry mouth.

That night, Kristen crawled around on the rough floorboards of her living room. A cluttered pyramid of furniture, tables, and rolled up carpet towered against the wall to her left. As she worked, the analog hiss of the trees filtered in from outside. side. Thunder bellowed in the distance. Three candles provided some light. Dipping her hands into a pot containing a pasty gray mixture of Scott and Harley's combined remains, she drew the symbol of the hungry mother on the wood, a broken capital F, with both arms jointed at their midpoints, angled upward, like a bisected wingless dragonfly. The symbol took up most of the living room floor, the finch and and the mouse rested in the center, swaddled in Scott's blood-stained t-shirt.

The fact that they were no longer warm worried her, but she steamrolled forward. Slowing down meant reckoning with the doubt, and that wouldn't help her stay strong. Kristen kept those negative thoughts at bay, forced them back out into the void of her subconsciousness. Love and compassion were only being transformed, not forgotten. On her knees, Kristen stretched forward from the edge of the symbol until she touched the cold, inert bodies of the finch and the mouse at the center. Her muscles burned from the strain, but she held firm, kept her position. Please, mother, eat away this pain.

She waited. Outside, the wind battered against the window. Please, mother, eat away this pain. She purged her ears, listening for telling signals beneath the building storm, the thunderbursts, the rain patter. Nothing but the storm answered. She repeated the plea to the hungry mother again. She kept repeating it over and over until her mouth went dry and her voice cracked. After the better part of an hour had passed, she realized she had been duped again.

Therapy, drugs, friends, family. church, music, gardening, sex, books, drinking, all of it added up to nothing except more despair, laughing at her for her futile efforts. When she had discovered the mothers of the hungry mouth and all the many things they promised to their devoted, she considered them the last stop before suicide. And now they had failed her too.

Please, mothers, God damn you! The back door creaked open. Kristen stood as if shocked by a cattle prod. Muscles burning, she waited in the unsure quiet as rain and wind rushed into the kitchen. A cloying odor filled the living room, jogging loose a girlhood memory of ancient Saturdays, images of her father in the garage cleaning an elk after a good day's hunt. That slit belly reek. Hello?

Behind the wall that separated the living room in the kitchen, something scuttled across the linoleum toward the. the kitchen doorway. Any moment now, her new life would begin. The beacons had worked. The hosting bodies had surrendered, gave themselves over to stronger-willed souls. Baby. A dark shape stepped into the doorway, black over black, tall, thin, female, but broken and jagged in an unsettling way, as if the limbs contained extra joints, like a a human-sized praying mantis. How could a body that ruin stand upright of its own volition?

Never mind that. Kristen knew the mother's talents were on full display here. The burst intestinal stench grew more potent, hung heavy and thick in the air. Kristen swallowed hard against her revulsion. You're here. Tears welled up and blurred her vision. She wiped them away even though they were the first time she felt anything akin to joy in years.

She wanted to be clear-eyed for what happened next. She reached down and grabbed the t-shirt swaddling the finch and the mouse. The temperature plummeted. With a sharp inhale, Kristen shuddered, hunched up her shoulders. Her skin prickled. White gusts of breath escaped her lungs. To her left, the large bay windows frosted over, crackling and groaning like a frozen lake in the dead of winter,

as ice fingers crept across the panes. Step into the light, baby, so I can see you. Kristen waved the shape into the room, taking slow, careful steps forward, trying to guide her guest to the center of the symbol. The mantis shape took a stilted, toddler step into the meager candlelight, and then there she was.

All doubt removed. Madame Lefour dressed in a thin, paisley robe over a nightgown shirt. shift. The clothes hung off her jutting limbs like a flannel shirt on a scarecrow. Her equine features were stretched down into a confused frown. Her cataract eyes flitted in their cratered sockets like flies trapped under a glass, wild and unfocused. She cocked her head from side to side. The movement made a sound that brought to mind pulling innards from a Thanksgiving turkey. Across her neck and chest, several weeping.

scratch marks suck the nightgown against Lafour's torso and dark splotches. Something fighting to get in. That's right, my love. Come to me? Arms outstretched, Madame Lafour stumbled to the center of the symbol, her mouth opening and closing like a fish suffocating at the end of a dot. Kristen needed to finish the final step, the last piece that would make Scott hold and bring him back to her for good.

Not perfect. without some major trade-offs. And so what? People adapted to severe situations all the time. Life came with drastic changes. And anyway, this was everything she wanted. She unfurled the mouse from the t-shirt, then dropped the finch on the floor next to her.

She held the shrunken rodent in her outstretched palm, offering it to Lafour. She lifted it to Lafour's drifting eyes. Lafour's gaze narrowed, focusing in on the mouse. Drawn to it, she stepped to the center of the symbol. Kristen held the mouse under her nose. Then, sliding to Lafour's left, she slid her hand behind her neck, grabbed a handful of the medium's thick black hair.

She pulled her head back, forcing her mouth open. That's it, baby. Kristen used the heel of her other palm to press against Lafour's chin. With a quick movement, she shoved the mouse into Lafour's mouth, prodding and forcing the mouse deeper with her fingers, until it was securely wedged in her throat. This will give you your voice back. Madame LeFourd gagged and scraped at her throat,

caught between whether or not to expel the mouse or finish swallowing it down. Kristen clamped her hand over the biting mouth, sealing it tight. Finish, baby. That's the only way that we can be together. Her eyes bulging, Lafour finished working the mouse down. The bulge moved down her gullet as she fought against Kristen's cupped hand. And then Lafour finished swallowing. Satisfied Kristen released her. Lafour staggered back into the wall.

Kristen backed off, breathing hard. It occurred to her that she hadn't breathed through the whole ordeal. Lafour studied Kristen with a dull, sullen gage. When Kristen started to say something, Lefort began to spasm. The medium clenched her teeth, pointed her chin towards the ceiling. Her arms locked rigid against her body. Teeth smashed together with an echoing crack. She vibrated like that electrocuted elephant in the Edison film.

Kristen fell on her ass. Crab crawled backwards. Then, as quick as it started, Lefour quit shaking. Her body relaxed, and she slumped in. against the wall, head drooped to her chest. The candle flames flickered green for a moment. Kristen pushed herself off the ground. Baby?

Lafour lifted her head. Her eyes had gone black as beetle wings, no people showing at all. Then LeFour spoke. I'm not supposed to be here. Scott's voice, strained and forced up through shredded vocal cords, but it was, unmistakably, his voice. Scott. Kristen went to Lafour, tears bursting through the dam.

I brought you back, Scott. She wrapped her arms around Lafour's neck and pulled her to her chest, hugging the old woman's jagged, insectile frame. Somewhere outside, someone screamed, tires squealed. Kristen registered the sound. but only is a faraway concern, nothing immediate worth noting, a blip on the radar. Scott spoke again through Lafour's slack mouth. His voice trembled.

I'm not supposed to be here. You are, baby. You died. You and Harley. I'll explain everything. Don't work. With no warning, LaFour shugged Kristen across the room with such force she flew against the wall and cracked the back of her head. She fell to the ground, boneless.

Scott's voice was now joined by Lafour's in some display of demonic harmony. They both sounded terrified. I'm not supposed to be here. Something scratched at the door. Fresh pain spread out across the back of Kristen's head. She felt like she was on a boat. Blood dripped down her cheek. I had to bring you back.

The scratching at the front door became frenzied. People were shouting in the street. Was that a child crying? The front door shook violently in its frame, started warping in the middle. The wood groaned and started splintering. The lock and the hinges whined as metal gave way to whatever wanted inside. Kristen struggled to stand. We'll be a family again. The front door exploded into the entryway, spewing a storm of shunuch. trapnel against the coat closet. A crumpled form on all fours tumbled in after it, scrabbling on the tile to right itself. The whole house shook with the force of the entry. A police siren wailed

in the distance. Another siren countered that one. More voices joined the shouting in the street angrier now. Then charging up the steps, huffing like a deranged animal, came in her body as twisted and jagged as the foors. She wore a ragged t-shirt and sweats. Ravaged by the weather, the clothes were filthy and drenched with mud and red. Flex of gore flecked her hair and face. She left a trail of bloody footprints on the carpet.

I'm not supposed to be here! Amy reached the top of the stairs and screamed with such intensity that Kristen cowered and dropped to the floor, guarding her head with her arms. Amy spider crawled next to Scott, eyeing Kristen with pure hatred, crouched as though preparing to launch herself. Kristen bawled herself up. She wanted to believe there was still time to make it right. They just needed to adjust.

They all needed time. It's me. She tried to see Scott and Harley in the broken, stolen bodies, but she couldn't see anything but the lie she told herself. She believed in a lie. and then she made that lie come true. I can fix this. In the background, the sirens grew closer. No.

Scott and Lafour's voices were gone. A new one took their place. It hissed like a gas leak, slow and steady. Who are you? What used to be Lafour snickered and picked up the finch and held it above Amy's. head. She tossed the finch into the air and Amy jumped up and snatched it and dropped to the ground and tore it to pieces, wolfing it down, dog teeth and all. When Amy raised her head, her eyes were as

shiny and black as Lafour's. The thing in Lafour's body moved so quickly it had Kristen by the throat before she even registered what was happening. She tried to take in a breath, but it squeezed her throat closed, making breathing impossible. Kristen tried to look away, but the Lafour thing squeezed harder, lifting her off the ground, forcing her gaze forward. Quiet screams emanated from inside Lafour's body. They sounded like they were coming from far away, in pain and begging for mercy. They sounded like Scott and Madame LeFourre.

Scott, Scott, go! Necrotic veins branched up what was once LeFore's neck. Black eyes swiveled and grayed. jelly. A look of sinister intelligence spread across this new creature's smile. Kristen's lungs burned for oxygen. A dull corona formed at the edges of her field of vision. Something in her throat collapsed with a crunch. She knew then that she would die. And now she had killed Scott and Harley again. Had damned Madame LeFourre and Amy to something unspeakable. Then as the sirens blared and the cop cars skidded into the driveway, the thing inside

the floor released Kristen's throat. She crumpled to the ground in a pile of limbs gulping for air. The Amy creature smiled so wide, its lips stretched past their breaking point, and the flesh split, revealing the molars. We shouldn't be here. But now that's... We will cause some mischief. Without so much as another glance at Kristen, the two of them walked down the stairs and out the front door. Gagging, Kristen crawled toward the kitchen, smearing the symbol across the carpet in her wake. The sound of gunfire filled the air.

And when that stopped, the real screaming began. We're going to leave that medium and come back with an extra large dose of holes. horror in mere moments. But first, let's talk about being holly and jolly. Buh, humbug. Atticus, you don't seem very festive? Why so grinchy? What's to be merry about? The holidays are so stressful. The shopping, travel, turkeys to stuff. Sure could use a bit more of that. All is calm, all is bright vibe we keep hearing about. Listen, my lad. Grab a cup of hot

Coco. And let Lord Santa, I mean, let me tell you the best way to be merry and bright during the holidays. I'm all ears. When the stress of a hectic schedule gets me down, I turn to Caliper CBD powder. It really does help me focus and manage all the details of the daily grind, especially during the holidays. Caliper really helps you? It really does. I've taken Caliper CBD for quite a while now. I just feel better when taking it. I find myself able to cope with things and be more productive. I'll bet it can help you. Well, I've heard you talk about how easy Caliper's CBD powder is to use. It comes pre-portioned in 20 milligram packets and dissolves easily at any food or drink

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So much better than what I usually give people. What do you usually give? Expired bottles of olive oil. You can barely taste the rancidness. Well, with Caliper, there's no oily mess or bad taste like you find. with CBD oil tinctures. Okay, well, I'm ready to go all in with Caliper. How do I get started?

Dear sweet Atticus, you and our listeners can get 35% off your first order with promo code No Sleep at Trycaliper.com slash no sleep. That's an amazing discount. And you can Try Caliper risk-free for 30 days. If you don't love it, they'll give you a full refund. It's a holiday miracle.

So that's a... That's trycaliper.com slash no sleep. Don't forget promo code, No Sleep for 35% off your first order. I'll be feeling jolly at no time. And we have no time left to spare. So let's scale the heights of horror and return to the show. Sometimes you need to get away from it all.

Just take a break, clear your head, and disappear off into the wilderness. Just peace, quiet, Serenity. Sorry, where was I? Ah, yes. But in this tale, shared with us by author Elias Withero,

all those wonderful sounding things have a dark, dangerous side. Which is fair, really, when you're talking about being in the middle of nowhere. But one can dream. Performing this tale are Kyle Acres, Mick Wingert, Jesse Cornett, Sarah Thomas, Graham Rowett, Jeff Clement, and Nicole Goodnight.

So next time you need to go find yourself, try doing it in a place where you can't get so easily lost, like a bustling city or a quaint village. Maybe don't pick a place where your only guide is, the rope on the mountain. I went camping a few weeks ago. I wanted to be alone after my recent breakup and thought some quiet time with nature would help clear my head. I picked a mountain at random in New Hampshire. I'm not going to tell you which one. Honestly, I can't remember.

It took that from me. I drove up on a Friday and started my hike around noon. I made it about halfway to the top and found a good place to pop my little tent. I set up camp and gathered some wood for a fire. It was cold, but I didn't mind. It felt good and cleared my head. By the time I finished setting up, it was dark. I turned on my electric lantern and set to work starting a fire.

Soon I had a couple logs crackling and I sat close, rubbing my hands together and listening to the silence. Getting lost in my thoughts, I wondered why I hadn't seen anyone else today. It was an odd time to go hiking, but I thought I'd see at least one or two other people. It didn't matter. I was content to be left alone. Eventually I ate a late dinner and decided to turn in for the night. The cold was making me sleepy and I figured if I went to bed a little early, I could get an early start. Baring myself under a pile of sleeping bags, I drifted off to sleep. It didn't last long.

Sometime around two in the morning, something woke me up. At first I wasn't sure what it was, the noise faint and muffled. It sounded far away, but it was enough to break the silence of the night. I rubbed my eyes and sat up straining my ears. What was that? And then it hit me. People were singing, happy birthday. I unzipped my tent and stuck my head out into the darkness.

Yeah, that's exactly what it was. It was coming from way out in the woods, the notes creeping between the black trees towards me. It was strange and a little creepy hearing that out there in the middle of nowhere. I listened for a few more seconds, noticing how sad it sounded. There was no joy in the voices I heard. None of the usual birthday glee. It sounded like a funeral song, dreary and slow.

After a few seconds, the people stopped singing. And then they started over from the beginning. Creeped out and slightly confused, I zipped up my tent and buried myself under my sleeping bags again. I covered my head to block out the noise. shutting my eyes and willing sleep to come. I couldn't hear the voices anymore. I swallowed hard, trying not to think about it. Trying not to think about how my birthday was the next day.

I eventually fell asleep, the cold closing my eyes and pulling me down into the darkness of slumber. The next day I rose early and decided I'd keep my camp where it was. I pulled out my small pack and loaded it with supplies for a day hike. I wanted to hike to the top and stay there a few hours with the intent to hike back to my camp before dark. The trail was a little rough, an obvious need of some grooming,

but I enjoyed the challenge. I stopped a few times, about once an hour, to catch my breath and snack on some trail mix. Eventually I broke through the tree line, and after another hour of hard hiking, I made it to the summit. Once I was up there, I was again surprised to find myself alone. Not a soul to be seen in,

any direction. I found a good place to sit down and ate while scanning the majestic view around me. A cold wind cut into my coat and I pulled my hood up. I shut my watering eyes and rested my head against the rock I was sitting against. I fell asleep. When I awoke, I didn't know what time it was, but the sun was going down. Dark splashes of infected purple bled across the sky. The wind was even colder, my whole body shivering against it. I rubbed my arms together as I watched the sun wink out behind the distant mountains. I had maybe half an hour to make it back to my camp before total darkness. That wasn't nearly enough time.

I didn't know what to do, torn between staying or trying my luck on the trail. I was afraid I'd freeze to death if I stayed. Afraid I'd break my neck if I left. After much internal debate, I sat back down. I had to tough it out and hope I'd make it. I was scared. I pulled my arms in my sleeves and wrapped them around my body. I curled up on the stones and pulled the hood over my head,

cutting my view down to a thin line. I don't know how long I laid there until I noticed it. It was off to my left, about ten feet from me on the edge of my vision. It was a birthday cake. It sat on the rocks with a single lit candle stuck in it. The flame danced in the wind threatening to extinguish. I sat up my heart thundering. I looked around in the darkness, prodding the shadows with my eyes,

searching for whomever had left it there. Nothing. It was full dark now, a sliver of cold moon hanging in the sky like a bright smile, like it was in on the joke. Even with the light it cast, I didn't see anyone or anything. All the shadows were frozen in place, waiting out the night like I was.

I slowly crawled over to the cake and I looked down at it. The flame was holding on to the wick for its dear life, the wind viciously trying to tear it away. The frosting was white, the cream hardening in the open air, and there was something written on it, something in red. You are dead. I backed away, suddenly feeling very exposed. I didn't want to stay here anymore.

I had to try to make it back to my tent. I stood up, teeth chattering, and noticed my daypack was gone. I spun around convinced I had just misplaced it, but it was nowhere to be seen. Scared and frustrated, I started back down towards the nearest cairn. I stumbled in the darkness, each step, a prayer. I squinted against the shadows, trying to see the formation of stone beneath my feet. As I made it the hundred yards to the first cairn, I tripped and went sprawling, smacking my face against the indifferent rocks.

I felt my upper lips split and my nose crunch as I made contact. warmth flowed down my chin as I blink back stars, sucking in sharp breaths on the ground. As I got up, legs shaking, I wiped a thick trail of blood from my face. I was dizzy, the blood chilling in the wind and crusting on my chin and hand. I ran my tongue along my lip and felt where it split. I winced. I should have known I couldn't make it. Not even off the top of the mountain, and I had almost brained myself dead.

I wiped the rest of my feet. face clean and took a few deep breaths to setty myself. I looked up from the cairn which was next to a steep drop-off and noticed something else. The mountain had groaned. I shook my head, convinced I was just seeing things wrong in the moonlight, but I wasn't. As I looked out onto the vast mountain landscape, I noticed that the peaks of all the other mountains were far below the summit on which I stood. And that hadn't been the case a few hours ago.

It was as if the mountain had shot up another couple hundred feet, rising silently through the dark sky. How could that be, though? It didn't make any sense. Nothing about the night made sense. Not knowing what to make of my new discovery, I ran my hands over my body, checking for any serious injuries from my fall. I seemed to be intact. I looked around the bald, expansive rock, feeling the wind slice into me like a razor. It was then that I wondered if I was going to die out here. My fingers were numb from the cold. My blue lips trembled and I didn't know what to do. I'd already fallen once, but I had to keep going.

The wind was going to kill me. I wouldn't last all night if I didn't find some shelter. I told myself to just be careful, take it one step at a time. If I kept my body moving, I could at least generate some heat. I squinted in the moonlight trying to make out the next cairn, the pile of rocks that marked the trail. Even with the moon, I didn't see it, but I remembered the general direction. Taking a deep breath, I started moving again. It was agony, working my way off the summit.

I battered my knees and hands countless times, my feet doing their best to hold traction. The wind was relentless, smacking me in the face with an open fist. I almost fell to my death. a few times, but my quick reflexes kept me seconds ahead of the end. I was breathing heavily, my frozen muscles exhausted. I don't know how long I descended, making my way to the distant tree line below. I didn't see any more cairns, and I knew I was probably lost. I didn't care at that point.

I just needed to get out of the wind. It felt like no matter how many steps I took, I wasn't getting any closer to my destination. The endless plod, the careful, patient. progression. I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep going. The moon seemed frozen in the sky.

I looked out and saw the distant mountain tops still far below. I checked my watch and saw that it was 2 a.m. I'd been walking for two hours now. I'm never going to make it, I thought. I blew into my frozen hands, trying vainly to warm

them. Just keep walking. Don't stop. You're dead if you stop. I continued my descent. I figured it was four hours or so until sunrise. I just had to make it until then. I shuddered.

There was no way I was going to make it four hours, and that's when I saw it. It was about 50 feet down to my right, nestled against an outcrop of rock formations. A tent. I breathed a sigh of relief. I was saved. There was even a small fire crackling beside it, sheltered from the wind by the stone. domes. I forced myself not to run, continuing the snail pace descent towards it. I wasn't alone up here. I wasn't going to die. As I approached it with the light from the fire casting shadows on the

tent, I paused. I was about five feet from it. The wind partially blocked by a stone wall on my right. I took a step closer, cautious. I heard something from inside. It sounded like someone sucking in big wet lungfuls of air. And then the tent started shaking, violent. I froze, heart thundering, fear creeping out my spine. The sound of the person inside continued. Desperate, urgent breaths sucked down into mucus-coated lungs. The tent kept shaking the plastic and nylon vibrating

as if whatever inside was having a seizure. Then I felt a tremor run through the stone onto my feet. I quickly caught my balance, studying myself, terrified and confused. What the hell was happening? After a few seconds, the mountain calmed, along with the tent. It was silent except for the wind. I took a few uncertain breaths, desperate to warm myself by the fire.

I eyed the tent, preparing myself to speak. The flap to the tent unzipped just a few inches. I felt my body lock, and my eyes wide, and my mind suddenly screaming that I was in danger. A voice came from the opening. A wet, deep whisper. Dumbling and tripping, bruising my body in a desperate need to get away. My heart pounded in my chest, confusion and panic pulsing through my bloodstream. The air tore at my face trying to rip it away with frozen claws.

I raced towards the trees. They were closer now than I thought, each fumbled step bringing me nearer. I didn't know what was going on. It didn't understand what was happening. There was something very wrong. with the mountain and I desperately needed to find my way off of it. My limbs were shaking by the time I crashed through the trees. I had countless scrapes and bruises running up and down my body,

a testament to my hurried descent. Blood dried quickly in the cold air, and I felt patches of it gripping my skin along my arms. I stopped now in the sanctuary of the trees and sucked in hungry lungfuls of air. I placed a hand over my chest and willed my heart to slow. I looked my cracked lips and rolled my head up to stare at the sky, catching my breath. What was that? I thought, fear filling me.

What was in that tent? After a few minutes, I assessed my surroundings and began walking. I didn't know where I was. A nagging panic crouched in my subconscious, but I knew going down was good. My knees trembled as my feet took me carefully through the woods. My eyes had adjust slightly to the darkness, but Now that I was under the cover of trees, my vision was severely limited. I mentally crossed my fingers with each step, my fatigued limbs flopping with exhaustion.

I focused on nothing but safely putting one foot in front of the other. The dark pressed in around me. The trees swayed overhead as the wind shook them, the sound filling my ears like high tide. Just as I was starting to become optimistic, something changed around me. noises quiet at first and then slowly growing in volume i stopped one foot planted on a down tree in front of me i swore my head around eyes growing wide throat clenching with fear something was crashing through the woods headed right for me judging by the cacophony of snapping branches and crushed foliage it was only twenty or thirty yards away and closing quickly making a split-second decision i hopped over the log and rolled against it, wedging my body in as far as I could. I grabbed an arm full of dirt, twigs, and dead leaves and pulled them towards me to cover my body. I waited, heart crunching against my ribs with violent terror.

The crashing had almost reached me. It was deafening now. I swallowed hard and squeezed my eyes shut. Suddenly something huge and white flowed over the log, passing over me in an alarming speed. It crashed in a little. into the underbrush in front of me and then disappeared, leaving trails of cold fog behind it. I didn't move, paralyzed with fear. I listened to the sound of the thing diminish, the night returning to its dark soundtrack. I exhaled. How was that? It didn't hold any form,

just passed me in a blur of faded mist. I was beginning to question my sanity. Things were outside of the realm of possibility. A weird cake on the summit, the unexplainable growth of the mountain, the voice in the tent, it all came crashing down around me in that moment. I felt disjointed, my reality sinking in murky chaos.

Am I there? I rolled out from the log and stood cautiously eyeing the black woods. I winced as the wind cascaded around me, slapping my battered skin with angry hair. I shivered and sunk into myself. I felt hopeless. I was impossibly lost. I didn't have a clue which direction to walk.

And I was thirsty. I bent down and found a dirty pebble. I rubbed the dirt off and popped it into my mouth. I remembered hearing it this was supposed to help. As I rolled it around on my tongue, I decided that no matter what, I wasn't going to give in to despair. I couldn't. As soon as I let that in, it was over for me.

I just had to keep working towards something. I had to keep myself as positive as possible. The temptation to panic was all too present. I could feel it under my skin, screaming and thrashing to be released. I needed to start walking again. Standing around, waiting for that thing to come back, wasn't going to solve any of my problems. As I was about to go, I noticed something lying on the ground. to my left at the end of the log. I crouched down and examined it. It was a rope about as thick as my

thigh. I ran my fingers over the cords and traced it in the darkness. It was pulled taut along the forest floor and ran off into the woods, lost over the horizon of my vision. I felt a pang of hope. This rope led somewhere. Someone put this here. If I followed it, maybe I could finally get off this god-forsaken mountain. My heart fluttered with newfound optimism, and I leaned down and picked up the heavy cords of nylon. I just needed to follow this out of here. I began to walk the thick rope straining through my fingers.

I noticed that it was vibrating slightly, as if the end was tied to something mechanical. As I walked, I glanced at my watch and saw that it was almost four in the morning. The sun would be up in about two hours. It felt like it had been days since I'd seen. seen the light. I ached for the warmth the daylight would bring. The bones in my fingers seemed to crack in the cold as they gripped the rope. I swore to myself that if I ever got out of here, I was going to wear gloves for the rest of my life. My feet crunched through the foliage,

brush and branches catching me at the knees. I pushed on, the rope leading me deeper and deeper into the woods. The constant vibration running through it encouraged me to keep walking. after another 20 minutes of slow progression the vibrations became more intense i shifted the rope in my grip trying to get a better hold of it it almost seemed like electricity was flowing through it but that was impossible i'd be dead if that was the case suddenly i stumbled forward as something jerked on the rope i let go and went sprawling to my hands and his wincing as something sharp cut into my palms what was that I brushed my stinging hands against my pants. I stood up and picked the rope back up, cautiously loosening my grip so I wouldn't get pulled down again. The rope jerked a second time. The cords crunching as the line went top. I was pulled forward, but didn't fall, keeping my balance and steadying myself against a tree.

I leaned against it, waiting for another pull, but after a couple of seconds, I assumed whatever was causing it had ceased. I hefted the rope up under my arm. was about to continue when I froze. They were all around me, tiny black figures with eyes like hot coals. They were hovering in the air. Small puffs of darkness pulled into human shape. Some looked at me from behind trees, their glowing eyes cutting into the black. None of them moved.

I felt a scream rising in my throat, but I forced it down with a hard swallow. Despite the cold, I felt sweat along my spine. The closest one was about six or seven feet away above me to my left. It was just hovering. I scanned my surroundings and counted eight of them total. I waited for them to do something, but they remained still, painted into the night. My mind was buzzing, trying to pile together some sort of explanation as to what I was seeing. The words on the birthday cake formed like a picture in my mind and I frantically pushed the image aside.

Slowly, very slowly, I began to inch forward, continuing along the rope. My eyes were laser trained on the figures, snapping between each one of them, waiting for them to react. They didn't move, only watched as I slid between the trees away from them. I expected them to follow, maybe even charge me, but I remained the only being in motion. My head was locked over my shoulder as I passed them. I was holding my breath, begging the leaves underfoot to be silent as I crunched down over them. One step, two, five. I exhaled and took another couple steps, leaving them behind me.

As I followed the rope deeper into the woods, I kept a vigilant lookout for any more of the strange beings. My mind was reeling. What were those things? The way they watched me silent and unmoving chilled me more than the wind I forcefully pushed all thoughts out of my head draining my confusion and fear like dirty water Once I was safe I could dwell on these questions

But for now I just needed to get out of here The rope continued to wind along the mountain Sometimes going down, other times leading back up I had no idea how far I'd come after a while I fell into a rhythm take three steps adjust my grip on the rope look around

take another three steps I felt like I was in a trance my mind of blank space between my ears there was nothing that existed except the mountain and the wind I realized that one could never get used to walking in the cold

it chilled me as much as it had at the top of the mountain walking was the only thing that kept my joints from locking up, frozen and excruciating pain. I felt like if I stopped, I would just lay down and let fate have its way with me. The thought scared me, the temptation and ease of just giving up. I realized I still had the pebble in my mouth. I spit it out and ran my tongue along my lips, what I wouldn't give for a sip of water. A blast of wind through the trees sent my teeth chattering again, and I slowed my pace and squeezed my eyes shut against it. My legs were trembling,

rattled by the icy assault, my knees knocking together like two swollen walnuts. The air settled and I sped up. Would anyone come looking for me if I didn't make it out of here? How long would I last if this rope led to nothing? What would I do then? I shook my head in the darkness, trying not to let despair overcome me.

One thing at a time. first let's see where this leads then go from there i needed to focus on solving one thing at a time get to the end of the rope i noticed that it was still vibrating a strange hum running up the cords and across my hands no sooner had i noticed then the rope jerked again it caught me off guard and i fell crashing down onto rocks and dead branches cursing i got to my hands and knees amazed i hadn't done any major damage to my body What the hell was doing that? I glanced at my palms in the moonlight, assessing the new scratches and cuts. I took a moment, filling my lungs with air and then continued. The underbrush stuck to my pant legs, snagging and slowing me any chance it got. The ground was uneven and rocky as I crossed the ungroomed terrain. My feet were aching, each step sending a pulse of pain at my legs.

The rope twisted its way between trees, around rock formations, and across thick, foliage. I began to wonder if it went on forever. Between the noises of night, I began to hear something else. At first, I thought it was my mind playing tricks on me, but the more I walked, the more I was sure, running water. I started walking a little faster, as much as I dared in the dark. My mouth a dry sponge. The thick rope trickled through my fingers as I went, taking me closer and closer to the sound. My tongue felt like it was made of cotton balls, the distance splashing causing the sensation to worsen.

My breath rattled out of dry lungs, exhaling what felt like mouthfuls of sand. I begged myself to slow. If I hurt myself now, it was over. With every step I prayed, I wouldn't roll my ankle. I just needed a drink of water. That would make everything so much better. It was close now.

The flow of water on rocks filling the night. A few minutes later, I found it. It was a fairly large stream, maybe five feet wide. The rope led across it, floating perpendicular on the surface. I dropped to my knees and sank my face below the surface, shaking with excited relief. The water was shockingly cold as I submerged my lips, pulling in sweet mouthfuls of nature's blood. I pulled my head up, sputtering in coughing as I choked. I took a few breaths.

forcing myself to calm down and then lowered myself and continued to drink. What are you doing here? I jumped and went sprawling, startled by the sudden voice. I stared around in the darkness searching for the source. My heart galloped in my chest and my eyes went wide with shock. A man stood across the stream staring at me. He looked to be middle-aged, the trim beard lining his face. He was wearing jeans and a white t-shirt that rippled in the wind.

If the cold bothered him, he didn't show it. I pulled myself up, relief rocking me. I was saved. The nightmare was over. What are you doing? I bumbled at first, the overwhelming relief jamming the words in my throat. I calmed myself and then began to recount my horrible experience since I had arrived. I told him about the singing, the cake, the tent, the strange black shapes with glowing eyes, everything.

He remained silent as I spoke. After a moment, he responded. You're not supposed to be here. I blinked in the moonlight, confused, and explained to him that I was lost. I told him that I had found this rope and had been following it hoping it led to something. His eyes darted to the rope at my feet and his tone hardened. I nodded and began to feel uneasy. There was something off with this guy.

I didn't know if it was the way he dressed. or the way his voice seemed to carry on the wind. He seemed completely passive until I mentioned the rope, and now his brow was furrowed, and his face creased in hostility. He began to shake his head. Turn around. Go the other way. You don't belong here.

I threw my hands up, mouth agape. I told him that there was nothing back there, that I needed help, that I was lost. I pointed down the rope and told him that following this was my best chance to find a way out. His face grew shadows in the moonlight, and his voice turned to frozen steel. Listen to me. I stood there.

A response caught in my throat. I closed my mouth and looked down at my feet, eyeing the corded fibers. What was he talking about? I looked up at him and saw he was watching me closely. I wanted to ask him a million questions, get some answers to the nightmares I'd seen to them. I wanted to know who he was and where he came from. I wanted to know what was in the end of the road. I wanted to know how to get out of here.

But they dissolved on my tongue, leaving only the one question that had been hovering over my head since this all began. I swallowed hard. Am I dead? He cocked his head, a smile dancing at the corners of his mouth.

You're the only thing on the mountain that isn't. His words confirm what I already feared. I shuffled my feet, watching the water run. by. Silence grew between us. I didn't know what to say. I was afraid of the answers I would get. He broke the emptiness first. It wants to keep you here. My eyes met his again. What does? Mountain? He nodded, stepping towards me and placing a foot on the rope. You said the mountain appeared to. Grow doesn't want you to leave. For whatever reason you were able to find this

place and walk among us. Now it doesn't want to let you go. Can I, can I escape this place? He sighed and took another step closer, his feet splashing into the stream. You know how much longer you have before you join us. We've already learned so much about you for those who would rather you stayed. My heart was beating hard in my chest and my voice came out in a whisper. What is this place? He was standing in the middle of the stream now, getting closer. It's where the dead go, when they have no place above or below. He took another step towards me, and I saw his eyes go red. I took a step back, almost tripping over the rope at my feet. But why not? If I can go, why can't you? He was standing mere feet from me now. He pointed down

the length of the rope. If you saw what was at the other end, you would understand. You're kept here. There's no hope for us. We're dead. He smiled suddenly, but it held no humor. Maybe one day you'll come back to us. Maybe there'll be no room for you above or below. Maybe you'll get sent here. He was inches from me now, his voice grating up his throat. Maybe then you'll get to see what this is tied to.

He bent down and picked up the rope holding it out to me. Take it. I hesitated, rooted where I stood by uncertainty and fear. I didn't want to take it, didn't want to look at it. I saw it vibrating in his hands. The dirty cords shaking in the dying moonlight. He offered the rope to me again. Take it.

Follow it back the way you came. Trust me. Be out of the woods before the sun comes up. I licked my lips and took the rope, trying to find honesty in a man's eyes. That doesn't make sense. It'll be light and less than an hour. I've been following this thing all night.

His eyes shined in the darkness. Trust me, it's the only chance you have. I don't know why I believed him, but I did as he said. And he was right. Just as the sun peeked out over the mountaintops, I stumbled out of the woods, battered, beaten, and exhausted. I dropped the rope and fell to my knees, relief drowning me as I spotted my car.

I couldn't believe it. I had made it out. I looked over my shoulder and saw the rope disappear into the foliage, slowly being pulled back by some unseen force. I shivered, what the fuck had I just lived through? Who was that man, and why did he help me? At that moment, I didn't care. I just wanted to get away from this goddamn mountain. I stumbled into my car and pulled the keys out from under the seat, fingers trembling.

I started my car and pulled away. I felt tears run down my cheek and realized that I was surprised to be alive. I'm still haunted by that trip. I'll never forget the fear and the horror I was exposed to. I haven't set foot in any woods since then and I don't think I will be anytime soon. One thing that still scares me, though, it was what the man said. Maybe you'll get sent here.

I've started going to church. those words driving me to my knees and seeking comfort in religion. I don't care what I have to do. What kind of sacrifices I need to make? I'll do anything so I don't have to go back to that mountain. I'll do anything so I don't have to see what's at the end of that rope. 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,

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by Creative Reason Media, Inc. All 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.