The NoSleep Podcast - S18 Ep16: NoSleep Podcast S18E16

Starting point is 00:00:02 The No Sleep Podcast has sprung into the 80s. And what a dangerous decade that was. Think of the risks. Twisting an ankle trying to do the moonwalk. Being crushed by mall crowds trying to buy a cabbage patch doll. And the nightmare of your jeans being acid washed. Yes, you definitely needed to have a good doctor back in those days. Ah, but what about today?

Starting point is 00:00:27 Things are no less dangerous. And that's why you need to find the right doctor using Z. Zoc Doc. Zoc Doc is a free app that shows you doctors who are patient reviewed, take your insurance, and are available when you need them. On Zock Doc, you can find every specialist under the sun. Although I don't think they have fashion doctors. Oh, well.

Starting point is 00:00:47 The good news is Zoc Doc has you covered. Zock Doc's mobile app is as easy as ordering a ride to a restaurant or getting delivery to your house. Search, find, and book doctors with a few taps. Find and review local doctors. read verified patient reviews from people who made real appointments. Now when you walk into that doctor's office, you're all set to see someone in your network who gets you. Go to Zocdoch.com, find the doctor that's right for you, and book an appointment in person or remotely that works for your schedule.

Starting point is 00:01:19 Every month, millions of people use Zock Doc. Make it your go-toe whenever you need to find and book a quality doctor. Head on over to Zock.com slash no sleep and download the Zoc Doc app for free. Then start your search for a top-rated doctor today. Many are available within 24 hours. So that's Z-O-C-D-O-C dot com slash no sleep. You know where to go, Zoc-Doc.com slash no sleep. And now, pull up those leg warmers and get hungry like the wolf for horror. Do you ever wake up sore with no explanation for the pain? How about scratches on your arms and legs with no explanation.

Starting point is 00:02:15 Well, if so, friend, this warning might be for you. See, after my ex and I broke up, I started going for night walks, long, aimless strolls around town after dark. The cool night air cleared my head, putting one foot in front of the other gave me a sense of purpose. And if nothing else, it filled up the hours that we used to spend together with something other than resentful remembering. Lately, though, I'm afraid to go out.

Starting point is 00:02:42 after dark. It started three nights ago. I usually turned around at the ugly 1970s high school at the edge of town. That night the breeze was cool and fresh and I hadn't seen a soul. It was like I had the world to myself. I decided to make a loop by cutting across the field that separated the 24-hour gas station from the suburb next door. There was a full moon, so I hoped I might even be able to see some wildlife. I was enjoying the fact that no one else seemed to be out, but it should have been a warning, especially when I saw the car stopped in the middle of the empty road, its driver's side door wide open.

Starting point is 00:03:23 At the time, I just slid an eyebrow and moved on. I mean, it was strange, sure, but you see a lot of strange things walking around at night. The gas station, too, was empty. When the lights were on, the country station played from the speakers, but there were was no one at the register. Perhaps the nightship guy was just in the back, unloading boxes or something. But I was starting to get a little nervous. Where did everybody go? That was when I saw the man in the field. He'd been so stiff, so still in the silvery light that at first I'd taken him for a pole or something. He was just standing there, like a scarecrow in pajamas, staring up at the

Starting point is 00:04:07 moon. As I watched, he began to spin. He spun until he lifted right off the ground and twirled through the air like some kind of nightmarish toy top. He spun through the air with the moths and nightbirds and oh God. There were dozens of them, some of them people I knew spinning wildly through the night sky. Fascinated, I crept closer through the knee-high misty grass. More people were walking out of the black wall of forest at the edge of the field. They wore everything from business suits to nothing at all, like they'd just stopped doing whatever they were doing, even showering or work, to come to this field and spin.

Starting point is 00:04:48 I realized the helpless figures above me were moaning softly as they twirled, although whether in pain or pleasure, I couldn't tell. On the street behind me, another car rolled silently to a stop. Its driver climbed out the door with the wheels still rolling and walked toward the field like a sleeper. But when she saw me, she froze. The moonlight in her eyes shone an eerie silver-green color as she raised her arm and pointed at me like an accusing judge.

Starting point is 00:05:20 The figures above me had stopped spinning. They hovered, arms straight out, staring at me. One of them lifted through the air, gentle as a floating feather, then plunged like a swooping hawk. I recognized the face of the bald cashier from the sandwich shop a second before his clawed hand dug into my shoulder. The force of it knocked me over onto the dewy ground, but I could see that the others were also preparing to swoop. The woman stood like a statue with her arm outstretched between me and my path of retreat, so I charged forward across the misty field toward the suburb on the other side. With a slam, I felt the head of a child hit my back. An elderly woman's teeth grazed my ribs.

Starting point is 00:06:04 Floating bodies flickered around me, pursuing me like birds defending their nest. Twist my ankle in the soggy dirt. Cut by thorns and batted by the flying figures, I kept moving until a teenage girl floating above me tangled her fingers in my hair. With horror, I felt myself lifting off the ground, up toward the cold, cruel face of the full moon. I shook my head wildly, heard and felt the sickening sounds of hair ripped out of my head. But I fell. And suddenly I was through to the other side. One by one, my friends and neighbors drifted back to their positions a hundred feet in the air,

Starting point is 00:06:43 spinning in the moonlight. I went home by the darkest route I could find. I didn't encounter a single person on the street, but occasionally I'd see a few hovering above me. And today in the sandwich shop, the bald cashier seemed to have no recollection of what happened during the night. He just rubbed his neck like it heard him when he rang up my order. I think I'm going to stick to Daywalks from now on. The dark hours when you dare not close your eyes.

Starting point is 00:07:37 Sounds of horror to frighten and disturb. What's that sound you hear from beneath your bed? Join us as the sleepless hours tick past. To praise yourself for the No Sleep Podcast. There's more evidence that makes me want to ride a bike rather than walk, even at night. Be careful after dark. That's what we learned from author John Beirdify, from the tale which was this episode's Cold Open.

Starting point is 00:08:58 The Moonlight and Me, performed by Matthew Bradford. We welcome you into the next decade of our journey through old-time television. We have entered the 1980s. Ah, the 80s. A time when music turned to synthesizers for its new wave sound. When MTV ushered in the era of music videos. And when you weren't watching MTV, television offered the horror of Friday the 13th, the series, Tales from the Dark Side, and eventually Tales from the Crypt.

Starting point is 00:09:33 Gothic Tales and Goth music right up our alley. We trust you'll find our time in the 80s to be authentic horror rather than synthetic. And speaking of being authentic, I'm genuinely thrilled to introduce you to a new voice on the show. Normally I introduce new voice actors when they first arrive, but the busy schedule recently means you've heard her many times already. I'm speaking of Ash Millman. A self-described horror nut. Ash may be familiar to many of you in the UK and beyond.

Starting point is 00:10:06 She's currently working as a presenter on the massive YouTube channel, PlayStation Access, and Ash previously founded and managed the horror channel for the YouTube franchise What Culture. So we welcome Ash to the podcast as she joins our already formidable cast of UK actors. A warm yet overdue, welcome, Ash. Thanks for joining the no-sleep team. And now, check under the bed and pull the sheets up tight. The darkness is here, but you'll be sleepless tonight. In our first tale, we meet a young boy anxiously awaiting his first trick-or-treating adventure on Halloween.

Starting point is 00:10:52 Well, that is if his parents allow him to go out. But in this tale, shared with us by author K.G. Lewis, the boy manages to sneak his way into some trick-or-treating and learn so much more about why his parents are against Halloween altogether. Performing this tale are Jeff Clement, Ellie Hirschman, Jesse Cornett, and Nicole Doolin. So make sure you understand your Halloween costume. You might discover that they're more than the masks we wear. Joel asked me if I could go trick-or-treating with him and his sister tonight. I was sitting at the table eating dinner with my mom and dad when I made the comment.

Starting point is 00:11:47 My mother gave me a sympathetic look before turning her eyes to my father. I'd seen the look she gave him plenty of times. She was silently pleading with him to be nice and keep his temper under control. My father set his fork down on his plate before he addressed me. We've already been over this, Lucas. You know we don't celebrate Halloween in this household. Why not? Because it's not safe.

Starting point is 00:12:20 I was the same answer he gave me every year. and normally I'd just let it go and accept that I was just going to miss out on another Halloween. Well, not this year. This year, I wasn't going to give up without a fight. That's bullshit! I slammed my utensils down on the plate. All my friends go trick-or-treating every year and nothing bad has ever happened to them. Watch your language.

Starting point is 00:12:49 My mother gave me a stern look. This isn't open for debate. If you don't like it, maybe you should spend the rest of the evening in your room. He pointed his finger down the hall. Maybe I will. I stood up, knocking my chair over in the process. It sounds like a lot more fun than spending the night with the two of you. Before I stormed out of the room, I saw the wounded look on my mother's face.

Starting point is 00:13:19 A typical Halloween night at my house usually involve my mother and me. playing games and watching TV while my father busied himself around the house. I knew she did that to try to make me feel better about not going out with the other kids. And I truly appreciated it. However, if my plan to get out of the house was going to work, I needed my parents to think I was upset with them and for them to be upset with me. So far, my plan was working. After walking into my room, I slammed the door shut behind me and locked it.

Starting point is 00:13:51 As soon as I was sure neither of my parents had followed me, I stepped over to the window and pulled it open. I was happy to see my friend Joel, standing in the bushes outside my house, waiting for me. He started to speak, but I held up my hand, silencing him. Hold on a sec. I grabbed the remote off my dresser and used it to turn on the TV. Once it was on, I opened the YouTube app

Starting point is 00:14:22 and went to one of the gaming channels I was subscribed to and started playing a random video. I was hoping the noise would mask the sound of mine and Joel's voices, as well as make my parents think I was just lying on my bed watching TV. What took you so long? Joel pressed his face to the security bars that hung over the window. I've been waiting out here for like 20 minutes. I was about to go home.

Starting point is 00:14:47 Sorry, we started dinner late. Are you sure you still want to do this? He looked up at me, expectantly. Well, I'm positive, but we have to hurry. I looked over at the alarm clock on my nightstand. It was just after 7 p.m. I need to be back inside by 8.30, or my parents will start getting suspicious. That should give us plenty of time to get through the neighborhood.

Starting point is 00:15:13 Did you bring the bolt cutters? I wasn't going to be able to leave the house if he'd forgotten. He swung the backpack he was carrying off his shoulder and set it on the ground. unzipping it. A moment later, he pulled out a pair of bolt cutters as long as my forearm, then handed me the tool through the bars. Sorry, I couldn't fit the bigger ones into my bag without my father noticing. That's okay. I took the tool and used it to grab hold of the padlock my father had placed on the latch of the bars.

Starting point is 00:15:46 Oh, these should work. The bars weren't locked like that all of the time. My father only padlocked them on Halloween. He said it was to keep us safe, but I knew he only did it to keep me from leaving the house. My face began to turn red as I applied as much pressure as I could to the handles of the bolt cutters, but it wasn't enough to break through the arm of the padlock. Maybe we can get it if we both tried. Okay.

Starting point is 00:16:14 I repositioned the bolt cutter so Joel and I could squeeze the handles together without getting in each other's way. That worked. There was a snipping. sound as the bolt cutters cut through the padlock. Yes! I cried out, accidentally knocking the bolt cutters against the bars in the process, which made the padlock rattle in the latch. A few moments later, there was a knock on my door.

Starting point is 00:16:41 Everything okay in there? I held my index finger up to my mouth, telling Joel to be quiet. Everything's fine. I snapped, keeping up the facade. that I was angry and wanted to be left alone. What was that noise? I dropped the remote. When she didn't demand, I unlocked the door, I sighed in relief.

Starting point is 00:17:07 I'm making a blackberry cobra for dessert. Do you want me to bring you some? I just want you to leave me alone. I didn't like being mean to her, but I had to do it if I was ever going to get out of the house. She didn't reply, but I knew she was still standing out in the hall. I could see her shadow under the crack at the door. After what felt like an eternity, she turned and walked away.

Starting point is 00:17:35 I rushed back over to the window and carefully removed the padlock from... Help me get this open. You pull while I push. The two of us worked together, swinging the bars open as quietly as we could. At one point, I had Joel stop so I could turn up the... volume on the TV as a precaution. Once we got the bars open far enough for me to squeeze out, I returned the volume to normal, then climbed out the window.

Starting point is 00:18:05 Do you have everything we need? Joel reached into his backpack and produced two latex masks, one in each hand. Would you rather be the wolfman or the killer clown? They're your masks. You pick the one you want and I'll wear the other. I didn't care which mask he gave me. was just excited that I was getting to go trick-or-treating for the first time in my life. You can be the werewolf. Joel thrust the mask into my hands.

Starting point is 00:18:36 I wore it last year. Cool. I turned the mask around in my hands so I could admire the snarling visage. You're going to need one of these. Joel reached back into his backpack and pulled out a pillowcase. For the candy? I took the pillowcase and draped it over my shoulder. Joel dropped his backpack beneath my window after putting the clown mask on.

Starting point is 00:19:02 Is it okay if I leave that here until we get back? His voice was muffled by the mask as he pointed at the bag. Yeah. My parents rarely came out into the backyard, so the chances of them finding it were pretty slim. Put on your mask and let's go. I turned the mask around and held it by the two flaps. at the back of the neck as I slid it over the top of my head. As soon as it was in place, a strange sensation came over me.

Starting point is 00:19:34 It started with a tingling feeling at the tips of my fingers and toes and quickly spread across my body. When I looked over at Joel, he had a worried look on his face. Before I could ask him what was wrong, the tingling sensation had reached my head, making me feel dizzy and light-headed. Before long, the way of the way. world was spinning so fast, I couldn't tell which way was up or down. I tried to fight it for

Starting point is 00:20:01 as long as I could, but it was too intense. I felt my eyes roll into the back of my head, and then I blacked out. The last thing I remember before passing out was Joel screaming, and the feeling of something wet, spraying across my face. My mother's voice was distant and indistinct, like I was listening to her while submerged in a tub of water. I felt someone reached behind my head and grab hold of the hair on the nape of my neck and pull. It felt like they were ripping my scalp off. The intense pain I felt brought me fully awake. I cried out and tried to crawl away from whoever it was. When I was finally able to see again, I saw my dad standing over me holding the werewolf mask.

Starting point is 00:21:01 dripping from it was a thick red liquid. What happened? I felt like I had just awoken from a fever dream. My father threw the mask at me. It landed on my chest, sending droplets of the red liquid onto my face. Don't be too hard on him. My mother walked up to my father and placed her hand on his arm. He had no idea this would happen.

Starting point is 00:21:34 I went to wipe the liquid off my face with my hand, but only wound up smearing it around. I pulled my hand away and looked at it. It was covered with the same red liquid. It could only be one thing. Blood. And it wasn't mine. Where's Joel?

Starting point is 00:21:59 I followed my mother and father's gaze to the motionless form of my friend, lying on the grass several feet away from me. His abdomen had been ripped open, exposing his intestines, some part of which lay on the ground next to him. Bile began rising up in the back of my throat. A sure sign I was about to throw up.

Starting point is 00:22:26 Don't you dare, look away. My father stormed over to me and hauled me to my feet. This is your... fault. He wrapped his arm around my neck and held my head in place. You did this. He held me like that until I started gagging, taking a few steps back so he didn't get splashed while I expelled the contents of my stomach onto the ground. When I looked down at the puddle of puke and saw bits of raw flesh mixed in with what I had for dinner, I vomited it again. I don't understand.

Starting point is 00:23:20 My mother came over and put her arm around my shoulders. This is what we were trying to protect you from. She gestured at Joel's body. You're not like the other kids, honey. She wiped away the vomit that was stuck on my chin and then rubbed her soiled hands against her pants. You're a mask. I gave her a confused look.

Starting point is 00:23:47 What's a mask? My mother turned to my father. Show him. He retrieved the bloody werewolf mask from the grass and slid it over the top of his head. As soon as it was on, his body began to change, taking on the attributes of an actual werewolf. When the change was complete,

Starting point is 00:24:13 he ran up to me and roared in my face, spraying me with saliva. I closed my eyes and began to tremble, pissing my pants in the process. That wasn't necessary. My mother pointed her finger at my father, chiding him for scaring me. He took off the mask and tossed it back onto the ground,

Starting point is 00:24:38 returning to his normal self as soon as it was off. I think it was. Now he knows how his friend felt before he killed him. My mother gave him a dirty look. but didn't say anything else. Instead, she turned her attention back to me. We may look human on the outside, but inside we're different. We have abilities they don't possess.

Starting point is 00:25:05 She stopped and held my gaze to make sure I was paying attention. What you just saw your father do is called masking. It allows us to take on the attributes of any mask we wear. I have worn masks before. and nothing like that has ever happened to me. I pointed at my father. That's because it only works on Halloween night. That's why we couldn't let you dress up and go trick-or-treating with your friends.

Starting point is 00:25:33 Why wouldn't you just tell me the truth instead of lying to me all these years? I pulled away from her and turned my back to Joel's body. I couldn't bear to see it. We wanted you to have as normal life as possible. We were planning on telling you on your 18th birthday. Why then? That's when the change has become easier to control. The sound of kids laughing drifted into the backyard,

Starting point is 00:26:02 reminding us that the streets were filled with families out trick-or-treating. We can explain it all to him later. Right now, we need to figure out what to do about that. He nodded towards Joel's body. What do you suggest? I have an idea. He turned and walked up the steps to the back door. I'll be right back.

Starting point is 00:26:31 A few moments later, my father returned. Clutched in his hand, was a bony knife. What are you going to do with that? The knife was too small to dismember a body efficiently, making me question what he planned to do. Did you want to go to prison? Of course not. He knelt next to Joel's person.

Starting point is 00:26:54 body. The only way to prevent that from happening is to make people think Joel is still alive. After pulling off the clown mask, my father used the knife to start the delicate process of removing Joel's face. And the only way to make people think he's still alive, he turned and looked at me. is for you to become him for the rest of the night. I did not like the sound of that. Why can't one of you do it? I looked back and forth between my parents. You saw what happened when I put the wolf mask on?

Starting point is 00:27:39 You won't have the same problem masking a human. My father continued to slice and peel Joel's skin away from his skull as he talked. You'll feel a little off, but you won't lose control like you did with the wolf mask. No, I won't do it. Well, I suppose I could do it, and you could take my place. Well, what do you mean? I was going to use the wolf mask to dispose of the body. At first, I didn't understand what he was talking about, but then it hit me.

Starting point is 00:28:20 He was planning on becoming the werewolf so he could eat Joel. When he saw the look of disgust on my face, he sighed. That's what I thought. A few moments later, he held the skin of my best friend's face out to me. When I didn't immediately reach out to take it, he added. You wanted to go trick-or-treating, right? He thrust the skin in my direction. Well, now's your chance.

Starting point is 00:29:28 When you're young, being with elderly people can be more than a little unsettling. It's even more difficult when an older relative is struggling with physical problems. And in this tale, shared with us by author Mark Tows, we meet George, who is not happy about having to visit with his great aunt. You see, the stroke she suffered has left her acting, well, rather strangely. Performing this tale are David Alt, James Cleveland, Erica Sanderson, Andy Cresswell, and Ash Millman. So be patient with your elders. They really do mean well, even if you find yourself thinking, there's something wrong with Auntie Beth.

Starting point is 00:30:13 The plate of biscuits always looks promising to George, but he's made that mistake before. Pink wafers with no crunch, chewy ginger nuts, and even a thought of chocolate bourbonne, induces a little bit of sick in his mouth. He wonders how anything in this house could be damp with the heating turned up so bloody high. His Auntie Beth leans in, half her mouth curled into a smile, and the other half doing something completely different.

Starting point is 00:30:52 A question's coming, he knows it. A sit-off ensues. Nothing yet? Just eyes drilling into his. He squeezes at the flesh under his legs, driving his back further into the softness of the chair, and running his eyes over the odd-looking knick-necks filling nearly every inch of shelving. She shuffles closer, her breathing quick and nasally, as if something rattles inside her nostrils.

Starting point is 00:31:19 He smiles, but secretly wishes for her to have a heart attack so this can all end. She edges forward again, giving him a close-up view of white chin fluff, and, worse still, the half-a-dozen thick black hairs emerging from a globule her mother once told him, was a beauty spot. To George, it looks more like a spider crawling out of a shit nugget. Unable to bear it any longer, George turns his gaze to the orange and red carpet, but he can still feel her watery eyes on him. Totally not fair. Any of it. He wills himself not to look up, but the carpet begins to move, patterns rotating, merging, spinning.

Starting point is 00:32:01 He feels dizzy and light-headed, but not like when the fair is in town. So damned hot, too. Thoughts turned to his friends, Zach and Lachlan, no doubt lounging in the comfort of their cool and dimly lit rooms, snacks spilling onto their desks, controllers in hand, and not a care in the world, focusing only on shooting as many motherfuckers in the head as possible. He glances to his mum for support, but she's talking to Uncle Rodney about how much petrol they get to the gallon. The loud clock on the mantelpiece, sounding like a ticking bomb from the old movies his dad sometimes watches. tells him they've only been there for 17 minutes, yet it feels like a lifetime. This sucks so much. He finally lifts his stare towards her just to see if she's stopped her gawk. But she hasn't.

Starting point is 00:32:53 She opens the left side of her mouth, the other side all puckered and dead, sucking in some saliva before it escapes. Christ, she's going to talk again. His eyes move to the carpet once more. How's school going, Georgie? Georgie? 14 years old. He wonders whether he'll still be answering to it when he's 30. Good.

Starting point is 00:33:16 It's the same answer he gave the last three times she asked. He looks over to his mum again, but the bitch is still talking. We have to speak up here. I'm a bit of hard of hearing in my left. It's good. School's good. That's good. Good.

Starting point is 00:33:36 She moves closer still, her left eye performing a series of twitches as though someone is tugging at the bottom lid with invisible cotton. Let's see those beautiful eyes, my boy. She follows this with another sloppy recoil of spit. Her words come out slurred these days, but he's getting better at picking them up. Don't be shy, Georgie. Let's see those peepers. never again, never, ever, ever again.

Starting point is 00:34:08 He pinches his skin harder as he turns towards his auntie. A stroke, according to the doctors, but he overheard Uncle Rodney say they were very airy, fairy about the details. One thing's for sure, the old Auntie Beth never made his skin crawl. Beautiful. She wipes the other corner of her mouth with a bit of tissue. Such a handsome devil. Her eyes continue burning into him.

Starting point is 00:34:36 Stop talking, mum. Stop talking. He swallows hard, offering Auntie Beth another half-assed smile. It's the worst day ever, even beating the time his mum caught him in the back living room, pants around his ankles, strumming one out to the weather girl. I forgot my car keys, she had said, grabbing them from the fruit bowl and rushing out as though the house was on fire.

Starting point is 00:34:58 The next time the urge came, he ensured it was a more control. old environment. Such strong legs, too. His school shorts are suddenly riding far too high up for his liking. He thinks perhaps Auntie Beth might be overdoing the vitamin tablets. But you have all the girls after you. It's too much to bear, the musty smell of the house, the stifling temperature, the stray hairs and the slurpy mouth.

Starting point is 00:35:25 But it's the partially spread thick legs clad in tattered, crumpled brown tights, and offering a tunnel into a blue. Livian that melt his brain. Have you got any soda, Auntie Beth? It's as if she's in a deep trance, lost in a world full of youth and smooth skin. Nay? Soda. Remaining perched on the edge of the chair, she nods, glistening eyes still targeting him.

Starting point is 00:35:50 He's asking for a soda, love. Shut up, you prick! Auntie Beth screams back without looking at him. Rodney's eyes grow wide and moist as he takes. teeters on the verge of responding, instead choosing to close his thin lips and bury his head in his hands. In contrast, George notes his mum's mouth is hanging wide open, but for once no words escaping. The silence is unbearable. It's going to take a hero. Is it in the fridge? He finally pulls his hands from under his legs and readies them on the

Starting point is 00:36:25 arms of the chair. The soda. She shakes her head as if bringing herself to, and with a groan, heaves herself to her feet. Already, George feels better, his eyes no longer needing to avoid the black hole that seemed to be eating its way towards him. Cola? Off busy orange, pet. Cola, please.

Starting point is 00:36:47 He waits for her to disappear through the doorway before adjusting his position in the chair. Moist with perspiration, the leather underneath offers a little fart as he plops himself back down again. How are you doing over there, buddy? His mum turns for an update too. Good thanks.

Starting point is 00:37:04 Changed a bit, hasn't she? Not feeling ready for another smile just yet, George nods. Understatement of the fucking year. She's still, Auntie Beth. Just a few gremlins in her head, so to speak. George nods again. Shut up, you prick. Still looking on the verge of tears, Uncle Rodney swallows hard.

Starting point is 00:37:30 How's school? Nope, nope, nope. Can I use your bathroom? Of course, you know where it is. Upstairs, second on the left. It feels impossibly good to escape the confines of the chair, heading towards a few moments of freedom. Knowing he can likely get a good ten minutes out of this,

Starting point is 00:37:52 he's pretty pleased with himself and knows. Shame his mum didn't let him bring his phone, he thinks, grabbing the banister and observing his reflection in the hallway mirror. She's getting worse, Joan. George lets his foot rest on the first step and arches his neck towards the doorway. What did the doctors say? They just feed me the same old crap. Nothing we do.

Starting point is 00:38:16 George thinks he hears Rodney's voice crackle a little at the end. Yesterday, I caught her giving me the middle finger from the kitchen window while I was hanging and washing out. Poor Beth, and poor you. I don't know what to do, Joan. This morning she was uttering some rubbish about things being in her brain. She started hitting herself on the side of the head over and over. I don't mean a gentle tap. I mean proper going for it.

Starting point is 00:38:44 I tried to stop her, but she started on me next. You need help, Rodney. She said she was going to kill me in my sleep. Jesus. I hate myself for it, Joan, but I give up. I can't do it. any more. The doctors gave me the name of this. It all goes quiet. Taking his cue that Auntie Beth is back with his drink, George bounds up the stairs like a ballerina, grimacing as they

Starting point is 00:39:13 offer a creek halfway up. He swings himself around using the top railing and shuts the bathroom door behind him, breathing a sigh of relief as he leans against it. On the opposite wall there's a pluck reading, The Best Seat in the House. Right now, he couldn't agree more. He reaches for the bolt, but only sees screw holes. The toilet mat's brown shag absorbs his feet as he takes his place, providing warmth and a whiff of disturbed urine, a small price to pay, he thinks if it means avoiding the stare of those watery peepers. He drops his pants and begins thinking about Vanessa Taylor from gym class this morning, the droplet of sweat running from her neck towards her. Georgie?

Starting point is 00:39:57 You've got to be fucking kidding me. With Vanessa now only a distant memory, the thought of holding his pecker with Auntie Beth and her giant black hole on approach makes him nauseous. He once read something about their gravity field being immense, a black hole's, not old ladies, that is. I've got your drinky-pooze. Fuck off, you crazy old bat.

Starting point is 00:40:22 Accompanied by Rodney's sheepish calls in the background, The inevitable squeak of the stairs brings a further tightening of the knot in George's stomach that lodged itself since first arriving at the frosted glass of Auntie Beth's front door. Georgie! I'm on the toilet, Auntie! The knock on the door sends his heart thumping and blood pumping in his ears. His world was so different only an hour ago, safe and familiar, something he knows he'll never take for granted again.

Starting point is 00:40:51 Double math and now this. It's just not... Fucking fair. Do you need any help, little Georgie? Georgie! I'm doing a poo, auntie! In disbelief, he watches the handle begin to turn. No, auntie.

Starting point is 00:41:09 He thrusts himself from the supposedly best seat in the house and fumbles his pants back up. Oh, I've seen it all before, little Georgie. Frantically, he begins working at his zipper. Auntie, this is not cool. Come on. As her head pokes around the door, she lifts a finger to the center of her lips, a marker for two very different faces. I've got something to show you. I think man's calling me.

Starting point is 00:41:38 Her fingers coil around his, leading him towards a sliver of dull yellow light trying to escape from the darkness. Shit on a stick. The smell hits him before he's even through the door, a noxious concoction of cheap perfume, and something far worse. A double bed takes up most of the room, pink sheets almost sickeningly garish enough to draw attention away from the patch of black on the left wall that seems to be spreading

Starting point is 00:42:06 from the ceiling down. Almost. Bit pongy, isn't it, Georgie? Rodney, the silly old bastard says it's mold. Auntie Beth shuts the door behind her, prompting George to edge away towards the window, the room suddenly feeling more than a little claustrophobic. He follows the trail of thick black from the coving of the ceiling

Starting point is 00:42:29 towards the antique mirror where it appears to thin out, disappearing behind the large oval frame supported by two ornate posts. I thought it was too at first, but I know better now. Auntie Beth reaches for the necklace hanging over one of the supports. She slips it around her neck and offers George a wink with her good side. Beautiful, isn't it? Found it in lost property at the community centre over on New Haven present. She digs her chin into her neck, running her fingers over the globe pendant as she approaches.

Starting point is 00:43:08 Got a cleaning job there once they finished the restorations and reopened after that awful incident. Words begin to rush over George, a glance outside and he imagines the smell of fresh air and the touch of the breeze, Another world. She continues moving towards him, shimmying from left to right, one finger circling the pendant and the other trailing across the duvet. It told me things, Georgie. George backs up until his spine presses against the window ledge an awful thickness dwelling at the back of his throat.

Starting point is 00:43:41 His mind feels heavy as if carrying the residue of a nightmare, but he's still dead in the center of this one. Only inches away, she leans in close. and sucks on her spit. Now it's inside me, spreading like it did up the wall, revealing all its secrets. I'm going to kill him before he kills me, Georgie. Put some powder in his whiskey tonight and run the bread knife across his neck. It's hard to tell, but George thinks she's smiling.

Starting point is 00:44:17 Over and over and over and over. There's nowhere else to go, trapped in a version of hell, the bed, the black wall, the smell, Auntie Beth's leaky mouth and glassy eyes, eyes on the meringue-like swirls, he opens his mouth, but only a rasp emerges. She shuffles forward. What the? Cold hands clamp his face. It's what I wanted to show you.

Starting point is 00:44:44 That nasally rattle, the beauty spot, and her eyes filling with black. Inc. Before he can find a scream, her dry lips are on his, thrusting and squirming, her fuzz, tickling his soft cheek as bony hands pull his head into hers. Letting out a series of muffled cries, he grabs her shoulders and tries to wrestle her off, but she's a fucking powerhouse. Help! He clamps his lips together as tightly as possible, something cold trying to work its way into his mouth. Auntie Beth lets out a little moan, bringing him closer still her cold flesh pressing against his. He can't hold. Something impossibly strong is finding its way through, prising his lips apart. It's in. Oh, fuck, it's in. But this is no tongue. George can feel

Starting point is 00:45:34 tiny worm-like tendrils searching his mouth, wriggling their way towards God knows where and creating a bitterness that layers in the back of his throat. He swallowed a fly once, but this is much worse. Vains pop as he pushes against her, but she outweighs him at least two to one and isn't going anywhere. Unable to breathe, he starts thinking this is the way he's going to go, French kissing his Auntie Beth. Iceiness begins running through his veins. A dizzying sensation brings black floaters to the edge of his vision. Dickle, where are you? The squeak of the stairs offers George Hope. It feels as though their heads may merge into one bound by whatever vileness leaks from her mouth to his. He shudders at the thought, or it could be the images suddenly

Starting point is 00:46:19 flooding his mind that he knows have no right to be there. Only as the door begins to open as he released, pushed back into the window ledge with force, Auntie Beth and the bed offering a deep moan as they meet. What, the devil? He tried to touch me. I didn't. I didn't. She snaps her head back towards George. Yes, you did. You wanted a big old slice of Auntie Beth's cherry pie. That's enough. With that, Beth begins writhing on the sheets hiking her dress-up. Get it while it's warm, jets. As George is escorted from the room and down the hallway by Uncle Rodney,

Starting point is 00:47:03 he hears his auntie begin to giggle, which turns into a guffaw, which turns into a choking rasp. His mum is waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. Everything okay? She's had another turn, Joan. As they reach the bottom, Rodney shakes his head with exasperation. I think it's probably best you leave. Are you sure? Can't we help in any way?

Starting point is 00:47:27 To the soundtrack of Auntie Beth's raucous laughter, George feels himself trembling. Something's not right. He sees things that aren't there shadows moving against the gaudy wallpaper. He can hear faint whispers in his ears bad things no child's ears should be privy to. Mom, I want to go home. Please, can we go? He stops mid-sentence. sentence, sucking back some saliva.

Starting point is 00:47:54 George, that isn't funny. His mum's face twists into a scowl, eyes wide in that wait until I get you home, look. There's something wrong with Auntie Beth. Mimicking her like that is really low. George turns to the mirror to see his downturned mouth. Part of him wants to scream, but a greater part of him wants to scrape his mum's eyes out with a spoon and feed them to the dog for bringing him here. Yikes, I don't know about you,

Starting point is 00:48:52 but after that story, my position is definitely anti-Beth, or anti-Auntie-Beth, or whatever. Problems like that may all be relative, but not all problems are insurmountable. That's why we now have a word from our sponsor, Better Help. When we think about problems, things might come to mind like, how do I fix an issue with a coworker,

Starting point is 00:49:14 Or how am I going to pay for that much-needed car repair? Problems like that have a definite cause and solution. But what about problems which are more long-term or less easy to define? It can help to speak with someone trained in helping you develop better problem-solving skills. So if you're thinking of giving therapy a try, better help is a great option. It took me a while to start speaking with a therapist. I fell into that trap of assuming the problem will go away in time, or assuming a solution would just fall in my lap.

Starting point is 00:49:45 It was only after I worked with a therapist that I realized how effective it can be to help train my mind to work better at problem solving. And that's why BetterHelp is so good. BetterHelp is online therapy that offers video, phone, and even live chat-only therapy sessions so you don't have to see anyone on camera if you don't want to. It's much more affordable than in-person therapy,

Starting point is 00:50:07 and you can be matched with a therapist in under 48 hours. Our listeners get 10% off their first month at betterhelp.com slash no sleep. That's 10% off your first month at betterh-e-l-p.com slash no sleep. Don't let problems stand in your way of growth. And now, let's get back to the horror. I'm going to go get a wee bite to eat. Picture this. One day you're watching a normal day go by.

Starting point is 00:50:42 When all of a sudden you witness one of the most, monstrous acts a person could conjure. You try to stop it, but you fail, and are left reeling with shock. But in this tale, shared with us by author Frank J. Orito, when the dust settles, you realize you're the only one who recalls the nightmare which just unfolded in front of you, and then you soon learn why that is. Performing this tale are Graham Rowett, Mick Wingert, Lindsay Rousseau, Dan Zepula, Aaron Lillis, and Mike Delgado. So understand that this tale is kind of hard to swallow, but there is method to the madness. After all, all God's creatures got reasons.

Starting point is 00:51:41 I swear, the heavy-set man in the red tank top didn't look like a monster. He squatted in front of the stroller and waved at the child inside. The young mother, a pretty woman in a green blouse, smiled. with pride. I was across the street, taking in the scene from where I sat in front of Java Jive. Mighty nice kid you got there, ma'am. I said, filling in the unheard dialogue. The kid did look cute, from what I could see, little sailor hat peeking from the stroller, probably only a bit older than my Ryan. I sipped my coffee. When I looked back up, tank top was holding the baby. He had a big grin on his face, but the mother wasn't smiling anymore.

Starting point is 00:52:27 She put her hands out to take the child back. A tank top ignored her. What the hell? The mom put a hand on Tank Top's forearm, her mouth moving fast. Give back the baby. I willed the action from where I sat, but my thoughts were no more effective than the mother's words. Tanktop winked at the woman.

Starting point is 00:52:48 It was that slow kind of wink where you get your whole face involved, a get-a-load of me sort of wink. I could feel the teasing contempt. Then the man opened his mouth wider than should have been possible and shoved the crying baby's entire head inside. The mother screamed and grabbed at the baby's flailing legs, but the man in the tank top whirled away. One heavy arm lashed out at the woman

Starting point is 00:53:14 while the other shoved the child further into his mouth. His lips and jaws stretched even wider to accommodate the narrow, shoulders. I ran across the street. Seeing details popping in my mind like flash bulbs. A stroller turned on its side, a bottle of formula rolling toward the traffic. The baby eater lay on the sidewalk in a fetal position, protecting his meal from the horrified onlookers. A single leg protruded from the man's mouth, a tiny blue sock hanging half off the foot. I reached the sidewalk with no idea how I could help, but I pushed through the growing crowd anyway.

Starting point is 00:53:54 The mother clawed bloody gouges in the baby eater's face. A bike messenger kicked a man, yelling each time his worn Timberland connected. Stop it, dude! As I got close, the baby eater rolled and scrambled back from the crowd on bleeding elbows until he pressed himself against the wall of Pizza Sola. Between his wide yellowed teeth poked five pink toes. all that remained of the child.

Starting point is 00:54:22 Tank top pushed them into his mouth. His hand disappeared up to his forearm, tamping down his obscene meal. I could hear the wet, rhythmic sound of the man swallowing. I grabbed him beneath the armpits and hauled him to his feet. You sick bastard! I launched my knee upward into the man's gut, hoping somehow to make him throw the child back up. Where were the police? An ambulance?

Starting point is 00:54:48 Could they cut the kid? out? The man lurched forward, wrapping me in a bear hug. He shoved his drool-slick cheek against mine. Forget it, man. I'm finished. The hell's wrong with you? Me? I tried to pull away. The baby eater let go and shoved me with both hands. I stumbled backward, straight into the mother in the green blouse. Hey, watch it. I froze. The woman wasn't screaming anymore. She just looked annoyed. Your baby.

Starting point is 00:55:23 I'm so sorry. What baby? The woman raised her hands, palms out toward me. Her voice placating now and a little nervous. I think you must have me confused with someone else. I'm going to go now. Wait! The baby!

Starting point is 00:55:40 That guy! A tall man stepped between me and the woman who didn't seem to remember that her baby had just been eaten. Dude, hey. Back off. It was the bike messenger, the one who had kicked the baby eater. He put a hand on my shoulder. You've been drinking, dude?

Starting point is 00:55:59 The mother took the opportunity to hurry away. I looked around in a slow circle. The stroller wasn't on the street anymore. The crowd was gone. I spotted the baby eater leaning against the wall, staring at me. His face still glistened with a pink sheen of blood and saliva. Fear lit up the man's face, and he looked away. Did you see the baby?

Starting point is 00:56:25 The bike messenger shrugged. No, dude. I think you need to sit down. Did you lose your kid? I shook my head. No, I'm all right. I wasn't. I walked to a nearby bus shelter and sat.

Starting point is 00:56:40 What just happened? I looked back through the shelter's glass enclosure. The baby eater was gone. My heart. slammed in my chest. Adrenaline still pumped through my system, making my stomach queasy. People walked by, taking in the spring air.

Starting point is 00:56:58 No weeping mother. No police cars. Jesus Christ, did I beat the hell out of some guy for no reason? I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, and took a deep breath. I should call Janet. Hey, honey, I'm hallucinating people swallowing babies. Yeah, right.

Starting point is 00:57:18 I was under a lot of stress. We both were. That's why she insisted I take some time for myself this afternoon. So what? All parents are stressed, but they don't all have waking nightmares? Unless something else is wrong. I leaned back with my eyes closed and imagined a future full of cat scans and thorazine. I'll sit here for a few more minutes, get my shit together and then call.

Starting point is 00:57:46 Janet would say go to the emergency room. I wondered if they'd let me leave. Someone sat down beside me on the bench. You remember me? The voice had the slightly high nasal accent of the true Pittsburgh native. I looked to my left and saw the balding, sweaty face of the baby eater smiling back at me. Shit! I sprang to my feet, fists clenched.

Starting point is 00:58:11 My breath came in painful bursts. I wanted to hit the guy, wanted to run, wanted to know if the man's sitting on the bench was even real. Ah, damn it. You remember all right. He rubbed a stubby-fingered hand over his mouth, a mouth that was wide, but nowhere near the obscenely gaping maw I remembered.

Starting point is 00:58:32 It's okay. I saw you eat that kid. I gave the accusation in a stage whisper, aware of the people walking by. No, no. I know that's what it looked like, but... The man waved a hand in dismissal. It was more like, um, a magic trick, an illusion.

Starting point is 00:58:52 You get me? I didn't reply. Too upset to answer. I'm Doug Kozlowski. The man held out a large, meaty hand. I didn't shake it. Kozlowski shrugged. Yeah, I get it.

Starting point is 00:59:06 Hey, I bet you could use a drink. Why don't you let me buy you one? I only stared at the man. Come on, kid. A minute ago, you thought you were ready for a rubber room, Hilton, right? You're not crazy. This is good news. That got through to me.

Starting point is 00:59:22 I'd been thinking right along those lines. Something tight in my chest loosened a little, and my clenched fists opened. You're saying it was some sort of joke? That's right. Something like that. We'll go have a couple of drinks. I'll explain things. Life goes on.

Starting point is 00:59:40 Kozlowski pulled his barrel-chested bulk upright and walked down Carson Street. I didn't want a drink, but I sure is hell. needed answers. So, I followed. Irene's barn grill was an old-fashioned place, lots of dark wood and only two beers on tap. Kuzlowski pointed to a booth with high wooden dividers for privacy and hooks for your hat. I slid in. Kuzlowski went to the bar and ordered. He came back with a bottle of beer and a tumbler of whiskey filled almost to the top. He set the glass in front of me. I got you triple. I picked up the drink, considering it. No, I finally said,

Starting point is 01:00:26 You tell me what the hell just happened. Okay, here it is. You know how I said it was like a magic trick, me eating that baby? I nodded. It's a little more complicated than that. You know, you should really have that drink. I set the glass down. Suit yourself.

Starting point is 01:00:48 Thing is... Kozlowski paused, an embarrassed smile on his lips. I hate the kid. You think you saw me choke down that baby because that's exactly what happened. At least you're not crazy. You said it was a joke. They were actors, weren't they? I'm probably already on YouTube's sickest home videos, right?

Starting point is 01:01:09 You saw me do it. Do I look like a special effect to you? My head began to throb in a slow, painful rhythm. I squeezed my eyes shut. Maybe I'm still in the bus enclosure talking to myself. Hell, maybe I'm strapped down in some metal hospital already. I lifted the whiskey and took a deep swallow. The amber fluid burned down my throat, realistically enough.

Starting point is 01:01:35 But where did the fucking stroller go? Why did no one remember what you did except me? Ah, that's where a magic trick comes in. Except not so much the trick part, you see. When I eat a kid, I eat them all. I'm not talking about the meaty parts. everything, like cosmic shit everything. His first smile is nine months he spent giving his mom a heartburn. I even eat the Friday night his mom and pop put Marvin Gay on the stereo

Starting point is 01:02:01 and got it on, you get me? No, you're crazy. What's what you were you and crazy? Give it a chance, why don't you? I ate a baby on a city sidewalk and broad daylight. No one is looking for me. The mom doesn't even remember having a kid. Why? Because she never did. No stroller? She never bought one. I ate that kid right out of this world. No one's going to come after me because no one knows it happened. I think you're screwing at me. I must have sounded as unsure as I felt.

Starting point is 01:02:36 Unless I'm just nuts. Fine, fine, go with the crazy theory if it keeps you from pounding on me again. He looked at me for a long moment and then gave an embarrassed half-shrug. You know, this is kind of nice. What's nice? I never get to talk about it with anybody. Oh, the whole kid eating thing. Well, once, but that didn't really count.

Starting point is 01:03:00 I got a theory, you know? I took another drink, thinking I should call Janet or just go straight to the hospital. But I didn't want to let go of being sane, not even if it meant this was real. I tried to speak calmly, but my voice broke. You have a theory about it. What?

Starting point is 01:03:20 Why you eat babies? Sort of. It's more of why God wants me to do it. You're blaming God. Sure. People blame God for all kinds of shit. Seriously, though. Why the hell else would I eat little kids?

Starting point is 01:03:35 All God's creatures got a reason. You think a buzzer just loves the taste of all that dead stuff? No. He eats it because it's his, what you call it? His nature. God's own flying garbage can. See? The buzzer, though,

Starting point is 01:03:49 He got no brain to speak of. So, he never asks, what am I doing eating this crap? I'd rather have a steak and a nice potato. Me, I wonder. So I got this theory. I don't believe in God. The whiskey was taking effect, softening the edges of my vision. After what you just saw, I'd think you'd have more of an open mind.

Starting point is 01:04:14 I didn't have a ready answer for that. Anyway, here's my theory. Hitler. Kozlowski held his hands out and a see what I mean gesture. Hitler? I shook my head. I don't think I'm following. Hitler.

Starting point is 01:04:31 Okay, you know how Hitler is like the worst guy ever, right? All these sci-fi writers always having people go back in time to kill him, but it just makes things worse, right? With me so far? Yeah, Hitler, bad dude. So these kids, I eat, they must be worse. God gives me a hankering for babies that would be the next Hitler's. And I eat them.

Starting point is 01:04:56 So, why didn't God have somebody eat the real baby Hitler? Fair point. I got to assume, being a lowly functionary, I'm not privy to the big plan. Because if there ain't no reason, that means I'm just some sort of monster. And a man can't live like that. You are a monster. I can't explain that other stuff. The baby never existing afterwards shit, but you took a laughing...

Starting point is 01:05:19 Little baby. Baby Hitler. A baby! And you ate him. You are a monster. Maybe God's monster if it makes you feel better, but still a piece of shit baby-killing monster! Kozlowski shook his head.

Starting point is 01:05:35 You know, I met this guy once, like me. I mean, he did what I do. Another of God's monsters. Yeah. But he was a little like you, too. He didn't think there was a reason. I saw him meet this kid, a little girl. or maybe six years old, pigtails and all.

Starting point is 01:05:52 Fat little thing. Took for freaking ever. I talked to him afterwards like we're talking now. He tried to kill himself a few dozen times. Knives, nooses, bullets. He thought he was a monster and couldn't live with it. Even when he realized all that self-inflicted pain wasn't doing the job, he never stopped trying.

Starting point is 01:06:14 It was bad enough that had to eat babies. The way I wanted to be like him. Poor bastard begged me to do it. Wait a second. The whiskey was thickening my words a little. What did he beg? He told me I was his replacement. That's why I could remember him eating a little girl.

Starting point is 01:06:31 I straightened from my half-drunk slouch with enough violence to almost upend Kozlowski's beer bottle. He said I had to eat him. Then he could be done. I'm telling you, the sap was crying with relief at the idea. No fucking way am I your replacement. I got a kid of my own, for God's sake. Hey, I concur.

Starting point is 01:06:51 You can only take this fate thing so far, right? Problem is, you saw what I did, and you remember me. I'm pretty sure that means you're next in line for the job. I'm not eating you. Kozlowski nodded. Damn right. I thought we'd try something different. He lifted the beer bottle as he spoke and slammed it against my head.

Starting point is 01:07:17 I fell out of the booth. onto the floor. I touched the side of my head and pulled away a blood-smeared hand. Coslowski knelt over me. His distended mouth looked like the open end of a mop bucket. It gave his voice a deep, hollow tone. Relaxed. In a little while, it'll be like you never existed. The bartender screamed. I scuttled backward as the tooth-lined mawad descended toward me. Hold still! He reached down, scrabbling from my collar. I didn't know if I was crazy, dreaming, or maybe in line to become God's monster,

Starting point is 01:08:01 but I did not want to be eaten by Doug Kozlowski. So I opened my mouth and lunged. Something expanded in my skull, bones snapped and jittered. It hurt like hell for a second and then felt good, like a satisfying crack of knuckles. Kozlowski's arm wedged in my throat, almost to the elbow. We looked at each other for a long moment, and then I bit down hard. Flesh tore and bones snapped, until my teeth came together with a click, and I swallowed.

Starting point is 01:08:35 Kozlowski's hate-filled bellow of pain joined the bartender's screams. You don't even want the goddamn job, you stupid son of a person. Blood spouted from his sheared-off forearm. I pulled myself upright, strength pouring into me from some unknown source. Kozlowski turned, spraying blood in an arc. He tried to run, but I grabbed him by the tank top straps. What I want is for you not to be here anymore. Then I swallowed Kozlowski's head down to the neck and began to chew.

Starting point is 01:09:16 Eating Doug Kozlowski took the better part of an hour. I ate with a compulsive efficiency, never pausing, as if once I'd made the decision, I went on cannibalistic autopilot. The police came, sirens blared, nightsticks rained down on my back and head. I'm pretty sure someone shot me, but the attacks all seemed distant somehow, and I never stopped eating. Finally, there was nothing left. I took a deep breath and spat blood on the barroom floor. I stood and gazed down at myself, surprised I didn't look like a python that just ate a cow. A man stumbled into me, slipping on the pool of blood. It was a cop.

Starting point is 01:10:03 He didn't even look at me. Instead, he motioned to the woman tending bar. You got to clean up this spill. Someone's going to kill themselves. The bartender looked from her book to the floor and sighed. I'll get them up. While I watched, the blood grew pale. Just spilled beer now.

Starting point is 01:10:22 I stood at the bar catching my breath. There was no blood on my clothes, no gash in the side of my head where Kozlowski's beer bottle shattered. The bartender smiled at me. What do you have, buddy? I ordered a shot of whiskey, a single this time.

Starting point is 01:10:39 I drank it slow and tried to think. Maybe if I'd really been crazy, I could have pretended it never happened. No, Kozlowski, no baby from before. I just had some sort of incident, a psychotic break. But I knew with cold certainty I wasn't crazy. I was God's monster. I paid for the drink and walked out onto Carson Street.

Starting point is 01:11:04 The sun sat lower in the sky, but it was still a beautiful day. An older woman, a grandma, no doubt, moved toward me on the bustling sidewalk, pushing a double stroller. Twins burbled away happily in the seats. I closed my eyes. Please no, please no, please no. When I opened them again, the woman had passed me and was halfway down the block. I didn't try to eat them. But what if they were just good kids?

Starting point is 01:11:31 Future Gondis. No, I can beat this thing. I'll resist it. Or go somewhere with hardly any people, an island maybe. It'll be a hard sell to Janet, but we would make it work. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out. Janet's name flashed on the screen

Starting point is 01:11:49 along with a picture of a boy in blue footy pajamas. I looked at my six-month-old son, and a spasm went through my body. I'd always been filled with love and pride when I saw Ryan. But now there was another feeling, stronger than both. Hunger. I put the phone back in my pocket without answering.

Starting point is 01:12:10 Down 10th Street, a line of skyscrapers rose from the golden triangle. I thought of the man causing. Kozlowski replaced. The man who couldn't accept being a monster. The man tried to stop himself. Knives, guns, nooses, Kozlowski had said. Maybe the guy just hadn't tried hard enough. Kozlowski never mentioned tall buildings in the litany of the man's attempts. The PPG tower looked to be about 40 stories high. It would do for a start. The No Sleep Podcast presents the exclusive 10-part audio adaptation of Alexander Gordon Smith's epic tale,

Starting point is 01:13:21 This Book Will Kill You. This book will kill you is the story of Tommy Bright, a young woman who dreamt about a witch, a room, and a table full of meat. This is her story. This is about what happens when the witch comes back to finish what she started. But be warned, because this book, just might kill you. I take the bus in the end.

Starting point is 01:14:11 I can't face going underground after reading the story Megan gave me. The machinery of my mind has jammed. I can't think right. And my stomach is churning. All I can picture is a nest of hair there, a boiling eyeball nestled in the middle of it like an egg. I feel like she's inside me. And it's all I can do to stop myself clawing my own skin away

Starting point is 01:14:36 and hurling it into the night. When I reach my house, I don't go in. I stand outside it for ten minutes, looking at every inch of it, at every brick and window pane and tile. It looks the same as it always has, but it looks different too. I can't even explain how.

Starting point is 01:14:57 I know that this is not my house. Not really. I know that this is not my world anymore. Something has shifted. I am on the outside of it. It's quiet when I walk through the front door, but it's past ten so Donnie will be asleep and mom will be in bed, probably furious that I've been gone all day without so much as a text.

Starting point is 01:15:21 I wait in the hallway for a moment. I wait for the squeak of flesh in the bath, but there's nothing. I head upstairs, creeping into the twilight dark of the landing. My door's closed, although I don't remember. doing it. Donnie's is too, and for once he's turned off his Xbox. Mom's doors open, and when I peek inside, I see her shape beneath the covers, the steady rise and fall of her chest. I want to crawl beneath the quilt with her the way I did when I was younger, the way I did when I had the witch dreams. And I might still, only I reek of sweat and vomit, I'm still shivering hard. The bathroom's been

Starting point is 01:16:05 cleaned. I don't know why, because mom hardly ever does it. She's missed a strand of hair dangling from the tub faucet, though, and the sight of it hanging there is almost enough to make me vomit again. I pee, then strip, washing my face in warm water, brushing my teeth for what has to be 10 full minutes. Even then, I've still got the taste of meat on my tongue. I seem to have shrunk. It's a stupid thing to say, but that's the first thing I think when I look at myself in the mirror, when I really look at myself. I seem smaller, like somebody has folded in the corners. I'm not even sure. I jump so hard, I think I've pulled my flesh off the bones, and I turn to see nothing there. Absolutely nothing, except that little dangling thread of black hair is sliding back up the

Starting point is 01:16:58 faucet, getting smaller, smaller, until the last of it disappeared. The bath is just a bath, is just a bath, is just a bath, and I'm repeating it to myself as I back out of the bathroom and close the door behind me. I don't want to know what I will see if I open my bedroom door. I literally cannot force myself to do it. I grab Mom's bathrobe from the back of her door and walk back downstairs, and it's only when I reach the kitchen door that I hear a voice inside. It's light in there. Had they been on when I came home? It's pooling on the floor in front of the door,

Starting point is 01:17:37 but it's not open enough for me to see all the way in. I'm torn between the urge to throw myself through to see who's there, and the need to get the hell out of this house as fast as possible so I never have to know. I wonder how long I can keep walking before I just can't walk anymore. He's here for you. The voice is louder now, and I recognize it. It's mom. So slow, she won't be.

Starting point is 01:18:04 I pushed the door, watch it swing open, see the kitchen unfold before me like a book. It is, Mom. She's standing by the island and she's completely naked, apart from a towel wrapped around her head. Strands of hair hang down from it, water dripping down the flushy skin of her back. She's cupping her hand over the counter, collecting breadcrumbs. and I can't see who she's talking to because the far side of the room is drenched in darkness. Mom? She turns to me.

Starting point is 01:18:39 Her head turns to me, but her face takes a moment to slide into place, like a lazy eye. What's wrong? Are you okay? No. My fists are aching again because they're bunched at my sides. I can feel my nails and my palms. No, I'm not fucking okay, Mom. What's going on? She looks to the far side of the kitchen again, and I try to do the same.

Starting point is 01:19:05 But the space is wrong there. It makes my head pound if I stare too long. I can see that the light is on. I can see the halogen bulb blazing. But it's not working. It's as if there's a power cut in that tiny part of the house. It's as if somebody has taken a pair of scissors and snipped a chunk of the world away. There's a shape there, though.

Starting point is 01:19:30 I force myself to see it. And when I do, I see that it's a young man. It's Tanner. What's going on? What's he doing here? Mom walks toward me, working her hands over her stomach like she's tightening something. And I realize she's tightening her robe. Only she can't because I'm wearing it.

Starting point is 01:19:55 It sits on me like a dead woman's skin. Your problem, you sort it. She passes me. Nothing loud, Tommy, your brother's asleep. I watch her go. I watch the obscene, ludicrous, maddening shape of her jiggle up the stairs. I hear her go into her bedroom and close the door behind her. I hear the squeak of her bed as she climbs in,

Starting point is 01:20:19 as she climbs in beside whatever else is in there. It's breath rising and falling beneath the covers. Then I turn back to Tanner. He's sitting on the other side. side of the island. I can only see his outline and his smile and the glint of his eyes as he moves his head. But then he leans forward and more of him is drawn from the dark. He's wearing the same black shirt as the girl an outcast buttoned up to the neck. His hair is as perfect as it is in his photographs. What are you doing here? What did you do to my mom?

Starting point is 01:21:00 I clamp my hands to my ears because there's something terrible about his voice, something utterly, awfully wrong. I can't bear it. I can't bear to listen to him, but he's speaking again, and the words are driving themselves into my skull like ice-picks, like nothing I've ever heard in my life. I'm wheezing like I've been gut-punched. His words twisting my mind.

Starting point is 01:21:30 into impossible knots. It's too hard for me to look at him, at the growing darkness behind him. There's a sharp, popping sound from behind him, a hiss of air. The room tilts, like we're on a ship. And even though nothing's really moving, I'm staggering forward, falling into the island.

Starting point is 01:22:00 Tanner throws his head back, his mouth open too wide, only silence pouring out of it. There's movement in the shadows behind him. I'm sure of it. He grabs the countertop and pulls himself forward, jutting his head toward me like he's a drowning man looking for the surface of the lake. He must find it because when he speaks again, his voice is his own.

Starting point is 01:22:23 Her game. She forces you to play it, but you can't win. I won't play. I won't. It's too little. His face is elastic, stretching into a mourning mask. You already are. You only have to read one word, and it's too late. You only have to have her name breathed in your ear, and it's too late.

Starting point is 01:23:00 You only have to think of her, and it's too late. She knows you, Tommy. Cease. Sculpture of ice. I cannot move. Tanner is struggling even more. The darkness is moving over him like dark water. It's swallowing him up.

Starting point is 01:23:27 She sees you. You're already playing her game. You know you are. She's poison. It's poison. What she sees you, it's like everything you are, everything you know, it starts to rot. It rots. It will never stop.

Starting point is 01:24:02 And then... The darkness wraps itself around his chest, around his stomach. Less like water now and more like arms, like a giant's embrace. and it's then that I see it, hovering in the night above the boy, a grinning face, too big to be real, hunched beneath the ceiling right beneath the light but still caked in shadows and filth. He utters a bovine cry, the lowing groan of a cow on the path to slaughter. What do I do? I ask, but I can't speak. The words are locked in my throat, but he hears me.

Starting point is 01:24:45 Thank God he hears me. Find her. It's what Gero was trying to do. Find her. Find her. Find. The shadows move over his mouth, swallow his face, but he screams through them. Still, still, still, still, still, still, still. Not quite face behind him grins, it's moon grin and pulls him closer, closer. The house vibrates. A silent explosion as Tanner is sucked away from me, as that awful face is sucked away. All of it wrenched into the darkness at the end of the room.

Starting point is 01:25:43 I can feel the current of air trying to chase him, my ears popping from the change in pressure. There's a sound like scattered marbles. Then the kitchen lights burn sun bright, and I have to shudder my eyes against the glow, wrapping my arms around my head, only looking when I think I can feel the witch's breath on my face. only looking when I can feel her grinning at me, only looking then, and seeing nothing but the kitchen. There's nothing there, but I'm on sea legs as I walk around the island, clinging on to it to stop myself from falling. There's just a wall there, our notice board, and that weird stain I thought was dry rot. It makes sense now, the shape of it. It's Tanner's shape.

Starting point is 01:26:32 I can even see his hair in it. It's the shape he made when he made. and the witch pulled him through the wall. I take another step, wincing as something cuts into my foot, stuck itself into the flesh of my heel. And when I pull it out, I see that it's a tooth, a fat, yellow molar with a horn-like root. There are more. There are dozens of them.

Starting point is 01:26:58 Dozens of Tanner's teeth scattered on the floor like dice. I'm in shock. I have to be because I'm... utterly numb. Something's been switched off inside my head, a circuit board being tripped to prevent massive damage. I'm not even aware that I'm me, that I'm back in my home, that I'm on my knees collecting teeth in a teacup because I'm suddenly back. My knee is sore, my fingertips greasy from the plaque. I don't stop. I crawl across the entire kitchen, front to back, side to side, until every last one of those yellow teeth has plinked into the cup.

Starting point is 01:27:42 When I'm done, I stare at them, and I'm possessed by a thought, the thought of putting that cup to my lips and drinking them down. Maybe they'll mix with the hair inside me. Maybe sooner or later there will be a whole person inside my stomach, clawing its way out. My thoughts are rotting. My life is rotting. And it's her fault, the witch.

Starting point is 01:28:11 utterly insane, but somehow she's found her way inside this little pocket of reality. She's plucking at the stitches. I think of Kara. Poor Kara Pierce, sitting in her bedroom pouring through story after story after story, trying to find a clue, trying to find something that could help her. Her world would have been unraveling, too, coming apart at the seams. I think of the photograph I saw of her sitting at her desk. her bed behind her, something pushing up beneath the covers.

Starting point is 01:28:46 I know now that if I looked at the photo again, I'd still see it. I'd see those crooked fingers, maybe an eye boiling out of the darkness. I'd see it. It is real. It is real. And I know you don't believe me, but it doesn't matter because you will. When she sits down behind you, you'll believe me. She might already be there. There's something almost comforting in belief, any belief, even this one.

Starting point is 01:29:26 I know she's real, and I know what I have to do. I try to stand, but my legs are too weak. I use a stool to help me up, then perch on the edge of it, placing the cup of teeth on the surface of the surface of the same. the island. The conversation with Tanner is draining out of my head like dark water, and I can't remember the awful sound of his voice, but I try to make a mental note of what he'd said. Find her. Use the stories. Maybe there's something in those stories that will tell me what to do when I find her, too. I dump the teeth in the trash, even though it feels wrong to do it. They sit there in

Starting point is 01:30:10 the liquid waste of mom's dinner, and I bunch up some paper towels to throw on top. The house is still appallingly quiet. I can't even hear the sound of my own footsteps as I climb the stairs. As I get to the top, though, I can hear music coming from Donnie's room, the soundtrack of one of his games. He's shouting at it. My door is open. There's a sound coming out of there, too, the clack, clack, clack of somebody typing. on a laptop. I wait there on the penultimate step. I wait for it to stun it doesn't. I creep to the door

Starting point is 01:30:49 and peer through the crack. There's a bathrobe hanging on the back of it, but I can see a fraction of my bed through the crack. It looks almost like there's something on it, something big, something that slowly starts to turn toward me. The sound of typing stops, but I can hear the tinny bead of Metallica coming through headphones, and I know that if I walk through that door, I will see myself. I'll see the version of me that doesn't have a face. So I turn and walk downstairs again, walk into the living room and turn on all the lights. I crash onto the sofa, curl my legs beneath myself, fix my eyes on the living room door, the front door beyond that. I will wait for morning, for the day. I won't sleep.

Starting point is 01:31:39 in case I wake up to somebody sitting on my chest or wake in the dark to the feeling of cold flesh pressed against mine. A whisper in my ear, do you know where I am? It's already past 11. Time is running on greased wheels. Morning isn't too far away, and I can stay awake. And that thought is still in my head when I stir to the sound of voices from upstairs. The hallway outside the living room is pitch black, even though I know I left the light on. I can hear somebody shouting above me, and I know what's going to happen before it does.

Starting point is 01:32:19 Donnie's running down the stairs, and he's yelling something. I got it. Wait, Donnie, hang on. He's shouting my words from his mouth, and he's there to the front door, hand to the latch. He stops moving completely, a photograph. Even though it's dark through there, his shadow is splayed across the living room carpet as if thrown there by sunlight. It's not real, I tell myself.

Starting point is 01:32:49 It is real, I say. I can hear a sound like Velcro, something tearing. Donnie is gagging, but I don't go to him. I don't dare. There's a brittle crack, and then a soft, Sheep as something pulls itself from Donny's mouth.

Starting point is 01:33:07 It flaps its wings, fluttering to the top of my brother's head and sitting there for a moment. The bird's head tilts, its dark eyes studying me. I wonder if it's a skylark. Then it's flying into the living room, panicked, its little brown body hitting the window hard. It drops to the floor, twitching still. When I look again, Donnie has gone, but his shadow is still there, still reaching for the door. It's there until the first fingers of sunlight push through the window and scrub it away. The day rouses me, even though I don't think I've really been asleep.

Starting point is 01:33:56 My body aches from sitting upright. My eyes ache from never closing. My mind is straight jacket tight, padded and vague. The cannonball of terror sits on my diaphragm, but it's lighter now for the sound of the birds. They're in full flow outside, but the one lying on the floor in front of the window hasn't moved once. It's never going to sing again. I haul myself off the sofa, everything cracking as I bend down and pick the bird up by its feet. How can something weigh so little?

Starting point is 01:34:33 Its eyes are still open, its neck bent, and my feet. right angles. I'm sorry, I say, carrying it through to the kitchen. I lift the paper towel, toss it on top of the teeth, covering the whole still life and madness up with more towel. Tanner's stain stares at me from the wall. My cell is dead, but there's a charger in here, and I plug it in. Then I clean the coffee filter and make a fresh pot,

Starting point is 01:35:02 doing my best to ignore the lump of fingertip that has returned to the sink. Seeing it makes my own hand ache, my right middle finger throbbing and sympathy. Upstairs, Donnie still shouts at his Xbox from behind a closed door. I open it, but he has his back to me, and when I call his name, he doesn't respond. I'm too afraid to see what he looks like when he turns around, so I leave him, walking past Mom's room to the bathroom. I'm pretty sure I've never peed so quickly. There's no squeaks and splashes, no nests of hair sitting on the bottom of the bath. There's nobody in my room, but my laptop still sits open on the bed, and there's still music coming out of the headphones.

Starting point is 01:35:50 I wrench the curtains open, switch on the lights, place my chair in front of the door to stop it from clicking closed. Rapping mom's bathrobe around me, I climb under my covers, then climb out of them again because I'm thinking about Kara's photo. I sit cross-legged on the bed and pull my computer onto my lap and jab the space bar until it comes back to life. I'm surprised to see my Facebook page is open. There's a whole bunch of notifications and I click them. All likes and comments for a photo. What's wrong, Tommy? Shit, dude, you look stoned and hanging out with Flint again?

Starting point is 01:36:31 Tommy? This last one from Flint. She's sent a message, too, but I ignore it and click on the photo that I have no memory of posting. Of course, I have no memory of it. It's a photo of me, sitting on the sofa in the living room, dressed in mom's bathrobe. I'm awake and staring almost but not quite right at the camera. And there's a look on my face of, I can't describe it. It's like terror, but something more.

Starting point is 01:37:04 something more profound than terror. My shadow is drawn on the wall behind me, merged with my hair. There's no gap between the wall and the sofa, but right there, inside the darkness of my shadow, I can see her. I can see that red flecked eye, that yellow grin. You, I click the window closed. You fucking bitch!

Starting point is 01:37:33 I load up another tab, finding creepy. Com. Kara's profile is still there. Nothing has changed. Those highlighted stories stare back at me, and the comments make a hell of a lot more sense now. I click on the only one that I haven't read yet. The Tube Game.

Starting point is 01:37:52 Still a dead link. If Tanner was right, and let's face it, that's a big if, then I need to get hold of it, and of any other story that might be able to help. I Google the title, but there's just cashed links to the site, none of which work. I check on Kara's Facebook page, too, in case you linked to anything from there. No luck. The image that's on all of her photos is a little clearer now, I think, a little more in focus,

Starting point is 01:38:23 but I still can't tell what it is. I push my fingers into my eyes until my thoughts ignite into fireworks. All I can hear is Donnie next door. running down the stairs, a flap of wings and the thump of a little body on glass. And this last sound makes me open my eyes again. The skylark is back, freshly dead, twitching on my bedroom carpet. I refuse to let myself see it, the same way I refuse to let myself see the lump of shadow that appears in the corridor outside, staring at me through the crack in my door, breathing hard.

Starting point is 01:39:01 I stare at the screen instead. skin electric with fear, with paranoia. Reality is rotting around me. That's all this is. I find my way back to creepy.com. There must be over a thousand stories on the site, including mine. But how do I know which ones to read? How do I know which ones are important? The stories that Kara liked are completely different from each other.

Starting point is 01:39:31 Just a handful of similarities that I wouldn't have even noticed if I wasn't looking out for them. Kara had dozens of them printed out, so maybe she found the missing ones, or printed them before they disappeared. If only there was a way of finding out. There is, I suddenly realize, digging my hand into the pocket of Mom's robe, feeling the business card there. When I pull it out, it's wet and yellow, the ink running in half a dozen places. There's also a ribbon of dark hair wrapped around it, tight enough to have cut through the paper. It looks like it's been floating in a lake somewhere for weeks, and maybe it has.

Starting point is 01:40:14 Time doesn't seem to mean anything anymore. I have to go downstairs to fetch my phone. I don't look at the figure who's outside my door, even though I have to angle my body to the side to squeeze past it, even though I can feel the cold weight of it against me, pushing into me. My head is down as I walk into the kitchen, as I unplug the charger. There's somebody in here with me, standing at the sink, the squeak of a finger as it traces the plug hole. But I don't look. I just dial the number on the card with shaking fingers.

Starting point is 01:40:49 Listen to it ring, and ring, and ring. He won't answer. I hear her suck the end of her finger. And ring, and ring. Please. He read the stories too. It was awful. things. He read about the witch, and now he's playing her game whether he wants to or not.

Starting point is 01:41:13 And ring? It clicks to an answering machine, Cyrus's voice from another world. I end the call and stand there. Stand there doing nothing because I can't think of a single thing to do. I stand there for a lifetime until the cell kicks in my hand and I scream. I think it's bitten me. I almost drop it, but it's a call and I answer it without even looking at the number. Hello? There's nobody there, nothing but a breath, haggard and whee-sink. Hello? Detective Cyrus? Mom's walking toward me. I can see her out of the corner of my eye.

Starting point is 01:41:54 Slow, deliberate steps. The breath on the end of the line continues. I just want to hang up, but I can't face the thought of being alone with the not-mom who's standing by my side, who's leaning in. She's breathing hard, too. And I understand it's her breaths I'm hearing on the phone, playing in stereo. You won't speak. He doesn't dare. Please.

Starting point is 01:42:20 I say to her, to the person on the phone, I don't even know anymore. He's too slow. Please! Crackling, and a faint voice. Detective Cyrus? Mom's lips are almost on my face. She stinks of meat. He's too slow.

Starting point is 01:42:46 But this time I hear it, a man's voice. Hello. My cheek and I grunt, pulling away, hunkering down onto my haunches, hands cradling my head. I can still see her bare feet there, spattered with blood. I can see a tooth, too, under the oven, one that I missed. last night. I need help. I need to talk to you about Kara Pierce.

Starting point is 01:43:21 The phone pops, whining like a flash bulb. I pull it away, my ear ringing, only to push it back when I hear his voice again. Who is this? Tommy Bright. Thomason. We spoke the other day when you came to my house. I can't see Mom's feet anymore, and I risk looking. She's gone.

Starting point is 01:43:44 The kitchen is empty. I stand up, although it takes me a couple of attempts. If you're in on this, you're going to be in serious trouble. And on what? I nearly ask. But instead, I say, your life is rotting too. And I think he might be crying. I need the stories, the ones from Kara's house.

Starting point is 01:44:07 It's the only way to beat this. To beat her. I expect him to laugh, to hang up. but he struggles through a couple of breaths, then says. I'll come to you. Don't. Don't come here. It's not safe. Meet me in the mall. The circuit. The phone pops again, louder this time.

Starting point is 01:44:29 I throw it to the floor, pressing a hand to my ear, feeling something wet on my cheek, the cheek that my not mom licked, pulling it away to see blood smeared over my palm. The food court! I say to my phone, I only hope he heard me. He did, because he's waiting for me there, sitting right in the corner with his back to the wall. He was the younger of the two cops who came to see me the other day, but he's aged a century or more since then. His face is a leather mask, and there's less of his hair attached to his puckered scalp.

Starting point is 01:45:13 He's jacked up, on edge, his head jerking left and right, studying anyone who comes close. so it doesn't take him long to see me. He does a double take, and I realize that he probably thinks I've aged too, that I'm a half-dead girl. Did you bring them? I ask as soon as I'm close enough. There's a table of four next to us,

Starting point is 01:45:36 parents and two young kids, and they're all quiet, looking up at me like I'm an addict collecting her next fix. The fact that Cyrus grabs my hand yanks me down into the seat opposite him, even though I was about to sit there anyway, doesn't exactly help. Hey, are you okay? Cyrus does his best to smile at the dad, flashes his badge and the butt of his pistol.

Starting point is 01:46:02 The man lifts his hand in apology. Sure, no problem. But he's still looking at me like I'm in a bad place. Cyrus rubs his face with both hands, scratching his stubble. Then he flinches, snapping his hands all. as of remembering what happens when he closes his eyes. You all alone, Tammy? Tommy, I say, but I'm not sure if he hears me.

Starting point is 01:46:28 I'm not sure if he sees me either, because his head is still swinging left and right, left and right. Yes, I'm alone. I need your help. Did you... What's going on? He's suddenly looking right at me. His hand is on my arm again,

Starting point is 01:46:45 and he won't let me pull loose. You better tell me. because I swear to God in this close to losing my freaking mind. You're seeing them too. I watch the family walk away, taking their food with them. When I look back at Cyrus,

Starting point is 01:46:59 his swollen eyes are ready to pop clean out of their sockets. My wife gave birth last night. She wasn't pregnant, but she gave birth right there in our house. And it's sitting there. A fucking! A fucking! He's struggling to form the word.

Starting point is 01:47:18 His mouth isn't obeying him. I took her to the hospital, but there's nothing wrong with her. And now there's a baby in our house, and it won't stop screaming. And they said there's nothing wrong with it either, even though... Christ. The feathers. She's... He's hurting my arm.

Starting point is 01:47:36 Cyrus. I can't remember his first name, but I bunch of fist and slam it down on the table, hard enough to jolt the condiments. Please, you need to. I don't even know what's... to say to him, I see them too. Everything is wrong. Everything is rotten. It's her. He remembers himself, letting go of me. I rub at the welts he's left. I rub them away. He's staring at the table. It's a baby or a bird. I can't look at it long enough to see. He lets his mouth hang open,

Starting point is 01:48:17 and I see that he's broken, that he's already outside himself. Nothing I can say will bring him back. He sits there like a child, picking dried blood out of his long nails. I don't know what it is, exactly. A couple has sat down at the table next to us, younger than me, laughing their heads off. It's this that doesn't feel real, I think. The girls with no faces, the birds are climbing out of throats, the babies with feathers. That's my new reality.

Starting point is 01:48:53 Maybe it was always my reality. The world I used to be a part of. It doesn't feel like it ever really existed. All I think I know is that as soon as you read one of the stories, it triggers something. A game, maybe, or a race. I don't know. It happened to Kara.

Starting point is 01:49:14 She was using the stories to try to work out how to win the game, how to beat the... I can't say it. I can't say the word. But she gave up. Or she died. I don't know. But I think I understand what we have to do if we're going to survive this.

Starting point is 01:49:32 Cyrus is still staring at the table. The guy at the table next to us is flicking his drink at his girlfriend with his straw. The food court is busy, people lining up at the KFC behind us. Their chatter is like waves. It's like an ocean. close my eyes and lose myself to it for a moment. Sleep, suddenly there. A leviathan trying to swallow me.

Starting point is 01:49:59 Cyrus brings me back. What? It sounds crazy, but the stories Kara had, the one she printed out and wrote on. They were clues. At least she thought they were. Clues? He wipes the spit from his lips.

Starting point is 01:50:16 He looks like he's going to say something else, but it dies in his throat. Clues to find her. Clues to beat her, maybe. I don't know. I think he's going to ask who I'm talking about, but he must already know because he nods his weary head

Starting point is 01:50:32 and exhales a shuddering, lung-busting breath. I got our tech guys to run checks on those stories, the ones that Kara had, IP addresses and shit like that. And? He frowns at the table, brushing his fingers, fingers over it. It's covered in crumbs, I see, and I run my hand over them, feeling them lodge in my

Starting point is 01:50:55 palm, the way spilled teeth lodge in feet. Tech says they come from all over the world, most from regular homes like yours, most are written my kids like you. There were some that he couldn't trace, or rather some that had what he called an impossible address. Six of them, I say, thinking of the stories that Kara had commented on, but he shakes his head. More. They all had the same address, the same place of origin, but it was like nothing else he'd ever seen. He was in the middle of telling me about it when I got the call from Valentina. I didn't go back to work.

Starting point is 01:51:35 So the stories had, what? A different kind of IP address? They all came from the same location? Do you remember which stories? Pinch, right? And three dead things? Tubby, those ones, right? They were all written by an unknown, right?

Starting point is 01:51:57 He studies me with his bloodshot eyes, then nods. Despite everything, I smile, because some of the pieces are clicking into place. Pinch, Tubby, they were on creepy.com, but the others were deleted. One of Kara's friends gave me three dead things. but there must be others. You have them, right? You must if you checked where they came from. The couple next to us are nodding their heads together,

Starting point is 01:52:25 like they're listening to music, still laughing. Cyrus is staring at them. His teeth clenched so tight I'm worried they might shatter. I'm worried I might have to collect them in a teacup too. Cyrus, his head grinds back to me. You have them? They were deleted. Kara had printouts, but the tech guy worked some magic and found a trace of them online.

Starting point is 01:52:51 That's what he couldn't understand, because they all come from the same place, those stories. He counted dozens of them, maybe more, but the place they were created, posted whatever. It doesn't exist. There's more laughter in the food court now. It's rising up behind me like this is a comedy show and that's the laugh track. There's something hideously artificial about it, but I refuse to turn around. I don't want to know what's happening back there. Cyrus looks over my shoulder, and I see the flush of his face sag like it's about to slide off the bone.

Starting point is 01:53:30 Cyrus, please, the stories. She's found me. Please! I resist every urge to turn. I dig my nails into the tabletop. Please. Or it's never going to end. It will end.

Starting point is 01:53:47 Everything ends. He gets back to his feet, sways there for a moment. Then he reaches down to the seat and lifts a black backpack, dropping it in front of me, not looking at me. These are all I have. The rest are at the station, and there's one that's still in Karr's apartment.

Starting point is 01:54:08 According to the notes, Carol left behind, there's something special about it. It's the one that started this. It let me read it. Damn it to hell, but it wouldn't let me take it away. I couldn't... He opens his hand, closes it, staring at it like it belongs to a stranger.

Starting point is 01:54:27 I open my mouth to thank him, but he's already walking past me. The smell of him old, wild, like a forest floor. I watch him go, but anything I might have said is swallowed up by what I see. Everyone in the food court is looking at us. No, looking at Cyrus, I see, as he staggers between the tables. They're all laughing and pointing.

Starting point is 01:54:54 The wave of sound is almost liquid. It's almost enough to drown me. They don't even seem to be stopping for breath. And I can see the panic in their eyes, the roar of their airless blood. As one, they move their arms to point to another figure. one that's standing in the very center of the room. It's a woman, maybe in her mid-30s, pretty and petite, but masked by misery. Her eyes huge and dark and wet.

Starting point is 01:55:26 She's dressed in pajamas, and in her arms she's holding a bundle of something that squawks a feeble cry, something that lifts a brown speckled wing beneath its swaddle. The woman opens her mouth to her husband as he approaches. But there's no words there, no sound at all. There's just that endless, soulless laughter getting louder and louder and louder. Now everybody's moving, a troop of insane dancers thumping off the tables and the chairs as they spin like dervishes. All still laughing, still laughing. All except for Cyrus's wife.

Starting point is 01:56:08 All except for Cyrus, who's reaching into his chair. jacket and pulling out his gun. Who's firing it into the crowd? I have to fight to pull myself away, grabbing the bag and running, my feet slipping on the smooth floor, gunshots exploding behind me into a wall of screaming mirth. I run until I can't hear them anymore, until the mall is far behind me and I'm back on the street, sirens wailing. I look back, expecting to see the people on the street beside me, pointing, laughing, dancing. But they are as shocked as I am, scattering with their kids, their pets, their shopping bags. This was his madness, I understand, not mine.

Starting point is 01:56:55 The witch has rotted his life, his wife. And I see it because it is real. I open the bag to see a manila folder inside, and inside that I find three familiar stories, and one new. The Tube Game, added by Unknown, on 1130, 2011. Then I start walking again, looking for somewhere quiet to sit and read. This book will kill you, written by Alexander Gordon Smith, adapted for audio by Jessica McAvoy, produced for the No Sleep podcast by Phil Mikulski, Musical score composed by Brandon Boone

Starting point is 01:57:54 This book Will Kill You The Sixth Part Star Jessica McAvoy as Tommy Bright Aaron Lillis as Tommy's mother Jeff Clement as Lilith Tanner Dan Zippula as Donnie Graham Rowett as Detective Cyrus and Mike Delgado as the father in the food court

Starting point is 01:58:17 Join us next week for this book will kill you. The seventh part. Tales have ended. Are you feeling all right? We did our best to give you a fright. You may feel safe in the bright sunlight, but soon, once again, you'll be sleepless tonight. The No Sleep podcast is presented by Creative Reason Media.

Starting point is 01:59:13 The musical score was composed by Brandt's. in 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. If you would like to find out how you can hear the extended editions of our 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 joining us and for being sleepless tonight. This program is Copyright 2022 by Creative Reason Media, Inc. All rights reserved.

Starting point is 02:00:08 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.

The NoSleep Podcast - S18 Ep16: NoSleep Podcast S18E16

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