The NoSleep Podcast - S18 Ep9: NoSleep Podcast S18E09

Episode Date: August 21, 2022

Tune in to Episode 9 of Season 18 for creepy camping conundrums!“Leave No Trace” written by Lisel Jones (Story starts around 00:00:00)Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Narrator – David Ault“I Know Why They Call It Big Head Lake” written by S.H. Cooper (Story starts around 00:04:40)Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Roxanne – Linsay Rousseau, Andre – Kyle Akers“Why I Quit Living in My Van” written by John Beardify (Story starts around 00:17:50)Produced by: Jeff ClementCast: Narrator – Atticus Jackson, Teen Punk – Danielle McRae, Old Man – David Cummings, Custodian – Jesse Cornett, Bald Man – Mick Wingert“Campfire” written by T. Takeda Wise (Story starts around 00:39:30)Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Michelle – Mary Murphy, Vivian – Wafiyyah White, Dinah – Katabelle Ansari, Lily – Nichole Goodnight“Bathroom Graffiti” written by Jordan Underhill (Story starts around 00:58:00)Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Narrator – Elie Hirschman“Underground” written by Leo Harrison (Story starts around 01:08:05)TRIGGER WARNING!Produced by: Jesse CornettCast: Narrator – Nikolle Doolin, Lucille – Kristen DiMercurio, Melissa – Tanja MilojevicThis episode is sponsored by:Betterhelp - Betterhelp's mission is making professional counseling accessible, affordable, convenient - so anyone who struggles with life's challenges can get help, anytime, anywhere. Get started today and get 10% off your first month by going to betterhelp.com/nosleepClick here to learn more about The NoSleep Podcast teamClick here to learn more about Lisel JonesClick here to learn more about S.H. CooperClick here to learn more about T. Takeda WiseExecutive Producer & Host: David CummingsMusical score composed by: Brandon Boone“I Know Why They Call It Big Head Lake” illustration courtesy of MiggeaAudio program ©2022 – Creative Reason Media Inc. – All Rights Reserved – No reproduction or use of this content is permitted without the express written consent of Creative Reason Media Inc. The copyrights for each story are held by the respective authors. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

I've dreamt about doing this for years. An extended hike into the wilderness, just me and a backpack at one with Mother Nature. Now feels like the perfect time. I recently completed my PhD, but a 9-to-5 job and family life never really appealed to me. It's so liberating leaving civilization behind. Goodbye pollution, goodbye cell phone. I've kept my solar radio, though, in case I fancy some entertainment. The first day it was an...

easy trek, not too far from the city, just into the mountains by the reservoir. It's so peaceful up there, but I stealth camped just in case, made sure I didn't leave anything behind, of course, carefully packed my food wrappers and the containers, leave no trace, that's the aim. Breakfast was probably my last shop-bought meal. I've become an expert at foraging. I'll need to supplement it with a little wild game, but my crossbow skills are blossoming and population, control isn't always a bad thing. The next couple of days are going to be arduous, though, need to get deep into the mountains as far from people as possible. Then the incubation period will be over. It'll spread quickly after that. It wasn't difficult for me to modify the virus,

waterborne, airborne, internal bleeding. Not pretty, but 100% fatal, eventually. They'll try to contain it naturally, attempt quarantine, but we've seen how well that works in practice, haven't we folks? It'll take a few decades, maybe longer, but it'll be worth it, she promised. Paradise regained me and Mother Nature truly at one. Solitude, bliss, just like none of you fuckers ever even existed. You're sleepless in another dimension. A dimension of horror, cursed to be frightened and disturbed. A journey into a terrifying land whose boundaries are inky darkness. Your next stop, the no-sleep zone. Now open the door and brace yourself for the no-sleep podcast. You're now in the middle ground between light and shadow. I'm David

Cummings, and this is the no-sleep zone. Getting away from it all, quite literally. Camping has never felt so isolating, huh? A catchy little story, likely to go viral, from author Lacelle Jones, from the tale which was this episode's cold open. Leave No Trace, performed by David Alt. Well, we're right in the thick of summer these days,

with apologies to our listeners in the Southern Hemisphere. So take advantage of the long, warm days and do some camping. You don't even need a goat valley. Just pack up some gear and head into the wilderness. As you'll hear in the tales from this episode, there's only a few small things that could go wrong. Well, not small things. And by wrong, I guess I mean catastrophically horrible. Ah, well, tomato, right? So it's safe to say you should brace yourself because, like sleeping campers, this one is intense. Now, that's the signpost up ahead.

Your next stop awaits as the horror begins. In our first tale, we meet a couple going, well, you guessed it, they're going camping. And while the man loves camping, his girlfriend isn't too fond of the activity. But love means making sacrifices, right? And as we learn in this tale, shared with us by author S.H. Cooper, Their trek takes them to a lake, and they soon discover why it has such an odd name. Performing this tale are Lindsay Russo and Kyle Lakers. So before we go for a swim, let's hear from the woman about her discovery.

You see, she tells us, I know why they call it Big Head Lake. I hated camping. My boyfriend loved it, so we compromised, and we went camping. I put on a brave face, packed my bug spray, and let him do everything else. He assured me it would be great. Fun! Nothing like the disastrous trips of my childhood where my sister wetter sleeping bag and cried until I let her use mine.

Or the one where my mom was sure the leaves behind our tents were not poison ivy. Or that time dad fancied himself a fisherman. But the only thing he ended up hooking was my cheek. No, no, this time would be different. Starting off felt just the same. Up before the sun, lugging my backpack to the car, flopping over in the passenger seat, Andre tried to get back into my good graces with a big travel mug of fresh-brewed coffee. But I told him it'd take more than a little caffeine to complete his redemption arc.

Don't be like that, Ro. If you wanted the sunny side-up version, you shouldn't have gotten me out of bed so early. Good thing you're cute even when you're grumpy. Good thing you're cute even when I'm grumpy. I stuck my tongue out at him and sank lower in my seat. Where are we going anyway? Didn't you look at anything I sent you? I made a non-committal noise from over the rim of my mug.

I emailed you that... Never mind. Big Head Lake. It's about an hour away in the state park. Kind of a hidden gem type thing. Not many people know about it. Bighead, named for the large phallic trees lining its shores. Maybe it's shaped like a giant dick.

Just the tip anyway. We smiled at each other. I was still unenthused about our three-day getaway, but maybe Andre was right. With him, it'd be different. I slept most of the ride there. Andre was probably happy to let me. I couldn't complain if I wasn't conscious.

The road turning to crunching gravel and then dirt woke me. We bounced along the narrow forest trail, wide enough for only a single car. And the deeper we went, the more the trees seemed to close in behind us. Big Head Lake glittered, in the early morning sun as we finally broke free of the trees. A range of hills still blanketed in fog, rolled across the horizon on the opposite bank.

Begrudgingly, I had to give it to Andre. He'd picked a pretty good spot. You want to set up the tent or... Nope. I said stretching as I got out of the car. I'm getting my beach chair, my umbrella, and my book. And that's it. You said you'd handle everything else.

I meant planning. That's not what I heard. I blew him a kiss as I swiped my things and sauntered down to the strip of rocky beach at the water's edge. He grumbled the whole time he fought with the tent poles and unloaded our gear. Without screaming siblings, arguing parents, and a crowd of similar families all squashed together on overpopulated campgrounds, it actually wasn't difficult to enjoy myself. I dipped my feet in the water while Andre fished nearby. We went on a hike up the nearest path and ended up on a cliff overlooking the lake.

And then we napped in the shade before starting a fire for dinner. It felt like we had the whole world to ourselves. So skinny dipping was the obvious sunset choice. I wrapped my arms around my bare chest. Andre had dived right in and was standing in waste deep water. He grinned, hunched slightly,

and spread both arms wide to either side. Don't you dare! But a wave of water splashed over me anyway. He laughed while I danced around, sputtering. You bastard! Maybe next time you'll help me unload. We splashed and dunked each other, shared underwater kisses, and watched the sky turned to gold as the sun crept behind the distant hills. Let's get out and roast

some marshmallows. Is that a euphemism? He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as I slapped the water, spraying him with drops while I giggled. But the smile had faded from his face. He was staring over my shoulder, brow creased with confusion. What is it? I turned to look out over the lake. Dusk had turned at a deeper blue and the surface was glassy and still beyond her ripples. I saw something. What? A fish? I don't think so. It bobbed up for a second, then went back down. Goose bumps broke out across the back of my neck. Are you trying to scare me? No. He took my wrist and pulled me towards shore. His eyes stayed fixed on the water. Come on, hurry.

His tone, soft and serious, made my heart skip a beat. As we waited quickly for the beach, I looked back. A mass of something dark and stringy had bubbled to the surface. It fanned like seaweed across the surface, drifting with the current. What is that? I don't know. Andre tugged me more urgently to shore, but I couldn't look away. The clump didn't move, just floated a few yards out in the deeper part of the lake.

but a knot had formed in my stomach and it was starting to tighten. As we scrambled onto the beach, the stringy mass bobbed. It moved. Get dressed. Where'd I put my pants? I hardly heard him. Small ripples spread from the clump in widening rings. It bobbed again, this time almost disappearing beneath the water,

only to resurface once more. And panic bile burned at the back of my throat. The dark stringy mass wasn't seaweed. It was hair. and it was rising out of the water. Beneath the long, knotted tendrils of dripping black, a woman's giant head and trailing spine lifted from the lake. She glided silently upwards and hovered in the air.

With the fading sunlight behind her, it was impossible to make out any features, but I could feel her staring at us. Andre! I tore my gaze from the head and looked to him, terror ripping all reason for me. Andre's mouth had fallen open and had fallen open, his eyes widened into saucers. I hadn't noticed how tight his grip on my hand had become.

Keys. Where are the keys? The head was drifting lazily toward shore, toward us, still bobbing as if it were floating in water. I tried to form words, to remember any, but all that came out was a strangled sound. The giant head was picking up speed, the base of her spine slicing through the lake's surface like a skeletal rudder. Pants. André suddenly dove away from me. It was his letting go of me that finally made me cry out, like his hand had been the only thing keeping my fear from becoming absolute. I screamed.

Then Andre was pulling me toward the car. My legs didn't want to work any more than my brain did. I couldn't look away from her. How close she was to shore, how fast she was moving, and the wild spread of her matted hair. Andre thrust me in the passenger seat and ran around to the driver's side. He dove in, jammed the keys in the ignition, and the engine roared. She was so close, the taillights cast her in a red glow,

highlighting the gaunt angles of her pale face. Sunken eyes burned with a hungry light. Their yellow tinge turned to fire. A wide mouth split the head almost in two, and as she neared the back of the car, it began to open to a black void lined in jagged white. Metal crunched and the rear of the car came off. Andre slammed down on the accelerator anyway. The back wheel spun, whining, but the front bit into the dirt churning against the ground.

The bumper tore away with a groan and sharp snaps, and the car jumped forward. Andre yelped and struggled to keep it on the path. We careened dangerously close to the tree line before he was able to ride it. In the rearview mirror, I watched the head spit the mangled bumper to the ground and resume her pursuit. She filled the road behind us, all gnashing teeth and billowing black hair. Andre took a corner sharply, and I swear we were on two wheels, skidding, a hair's breath from going off road. He spun the wheel, and I thought we were clear, but we were going too fast. The tires couldn't get any grip on the forest floor, and we spun.

I grabbed the edges of my seat. I was screaming. Andre was screaming. Somehow, in all the chaos, I still thought to look in the mirror. The relief I felt at seeing only a glimpse of an empty path lasted until the car slammed into a tree trunk. Andre's voice was shaking beside my ear. Everything was muddled and ringing. I blinked trying to find something to focus on.

I found it in Andre's face, leaning over me. A line of red was dripping down his cheek from a gash over his eyebrow. Dazedly, I reached to wipe it away, but he stopped me. You have to get up. I nodded. Only dimly aware of the press of my door against my side. The crack spiderwebbing across my window. I reached absently for the handle.

You can't. Your side is against a tree. He helped me over the center console and out of the car. Sticky, wet warmth coated one side of my face. And I reached up with shaking fingers to find blood pouring from along my hairline. I could only stare at my red hand in the headlights. Come on, baby. He was looking around, eyes darting, breath coming in quick gasps.

He took my hand and started running. I staggered after him trying to keep up, to stop the tears blurring my vision. The forest was eerily quiet around us, the only noise seeming to come from our footfall. Sticks and stones dug into my bare feet, but I bit down on my lip to keep from making any sounds. The head was nowhere to be seen. Neither of us knew where we were going, only that we didn't dare stop. Low branches and thorny bushes snagged on our exposed skin, leaving bloodied wounds across our naked bodies. I stumbled, lungs burning, legs becoming watery beneath me, and almost took Andre down with me.

He grabbed my waist to steady both of us, his own chest heaving. I looked up at him, desperate, helpless, confused, floating about him. Floating above his head, a row of teeth smiled in the dark. Andre jolted, his back going pin straight and his body stiffened. His grip on me loosened, and I fell to the ground. The tip of her spine pierced through his torso and lifted him from the ground. He attempted to gasp, but all he could manage was a burbling inhale. He lifted his hands to his chest, fingers grasping weakly.

But it was a reflexive mechanical motion. our eyes met and then there was nothing left of him only his hanging body who wanted to scream I tried to but beneath the giant head's yellow gaze I was frozen

we stared at one another for a long moment until she turned slowly Andre dangling like a fresh caught fish from her spine she glided silently through the trees back toward the lake and the further she got the more the forest came to life again, the crickets, the frogs,

and finally, my terrified, heartbroken screaming. When you're young, wild, and carefree, you get to do things that us buttoned down old squares can no longer do. Travel the country living out of your vehicle, traversing the highways and byways, ah, the vagabond life. But as we learn in this tale, shared with us, by author John Beardify. One man finds it difficult to find spots to safely park overnight.

That is, until he's offered a very helpful map. I join Atticus Jackson, Danielle McCray, Jesse Cornett, and Mick Wingert in performing this tale. So let's hear from the man about why he stopped his travels, as he explains why I quit living in my van. When I was 25, I traveled across America. in a modified van. For three months, I didn't have to worry about rent. I got my food from the dumpsters behind pizza shops and supermarkets. When I needed gas, I played my guitar on a street corner until my cup was full of change.

A nationwide gym membership took care of showers. And as for friendship, in almost every town I visited, I found a bonfire surrounded by other travelers like me. The only real problem was finding somewhere to sleep. Depending on local laws, residential streets, city parks, and 24-hour parking lots might be off limits. The places left over were usually exposed, isolated, and dangerous. Places that make you suspect that the driver of that big semi-truck idling beside you was a serial killer. Places that magnify rustling in the bushes. or make you wonder if you heard laughter from just outside your van.

At some point, almost every conversation around the bonfire turned to the search for safe spots to park. I was at a field party, watching the sunset and wondering miserably if I was going to have to drive overnight yet again, when a teenage crust punk nudged my elbow. So there's this map. It's got some sweet spots. Mark and Red. They shoved the biggest folding map I'd ever seen into my hands.

It was the color of charcoal. Everything black or gray, except for the crimson dots. I tried a couple of them. Quiet, no cops. It's just... They hesitated. Well, I guess you'll find out. They held up a black-nailed hand.

So, uh, later. Sirens and flashing blue lights appeared at the edge of the tall grass. Cops coming to break up the party. Everyone split, and I peeled out of the gravel lot in the direction of the first red marker. The sweet spot turned out to be the parking lot behind a small warehouse. A single lamp, like a nightlight, glowed over its padlock door. It wasn't abandoned, but it didn't seem like anyone was going to come scare me off anytime soon either. The warehouse was the only building for miles in any direction.

I had no idea what it could be for, but did it really matter? The spot was perfect. I set up the van around back and drifted off to the sound of wind and the aspen trees. When I climbed out to take a leak, the digital clock read 234. Even the wind was quiet. I'd barely finished watering the dandelions when something moved. in the warehouse behind me. As I crept back to the van, the noise got clearer.

Whatever was in there was jiggling and slopping around like coagulated soup. And it was huge. It threw itself against the warehouse door hard enough to make the padlock shake. Twice, three times. It let out a low, sad moan. Of all the weird, alien burbling sounds, I'd just heard, that moan was the worst. It sounded so human.

I woke up to bluebirds and sunshine. The odd warehouse was still locked up tight. I'd wondered if I just dreamt the whole thing. Either way, a few freaky noises were nothing compared to the dangers I was used to. Drug addicts, sadistic cops, curious bears. I'd spent the day hiking up and I'd spend the day hiking up and I'd icy creek with strangers I met at a trailhead. And when the weather turned nasty, I found a cozy public library.

On my way out, I spotted an Italian restaurant full of couples and asked the owner if he'd let me play a couple of 90s tunes on my guitar for the candlelight dining crowd. When he said, yes, I made enough cash to eat there myself and pay for gas all the way to Texas. After dinner, I set out for the nearest dot on my strange map. It turned out to be a closed-down fishing supply shop along a deserted country road. Puck's live bait, the sign read.

But it didn't look like the gravel lot had seen any life for a long time. The store's only distinguishing feature was a plastic statue of a smiling baby holding up a fish. It was over eight feet tall, but chipped and fading paint made it look like an abandoned doll. There was something about those unblinking plastic eyes that I didn't like. But I'd just eaten my first real meal in weeks and washed it down with wine. I could put up with some creepiness for a little bit of shut-eye. I parked so that the van was hidden from the road, or climbed the driver's seat and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

3.20 read my digital clock. I wondered grogly why my eyes were open. Then I heard it again. Tapping on the van window. I almost didn't want to look. I don't if I turned and saw a pair of giant plastic eyes. I mustered the courage to put my seat up and saw an old man in a rubber fishing hat and rain slicker.

A light drizzle was falling outside. The sound got more insistent. It was almost metallic. And I wondered what the old man was tapping with. I rolled my window down an inch. Hello? Howdy, neighbor? The man's eyes were cheerful, but his mouth barely moved, like it was somehow full.

And it was the strangest expression I'd ever seen. I'm here for bait. I stared, dumbfounded. This is the bait store? The man's voice rose like a tea kettle until he was practically screaming. And I want my... I noticed with horror that the man's fingers had come through the top of the window. In his right hand, he held the fishing knife he'd been tapping with.

It reversed as hard as I could. The man didn't fall. He just watched me speed out of the gravel lot. And I'd swear, the eyes of the giant plastic baby did too. I didn't stop until I saw the lights of a 24-hour gas station. My tank was low anyway, so I pulled in to fill up and get myself under control. My knuckles were wide around the wheel, and I could hear my own heartbeat thundering in my ears. It was such a relief to see those familiar sides I'd always taken for granted.

Rows of unhealthy snacks. Weak old hot dogs turning on the roller grill. coffee and styrofoam cups. An attendant in a red visor and vest uniform whistled while he wiped down the slushy machine. I grabbed some comfort food to soothe my heaving stomach and walked up to the cash register. Howdy, neighbor? It was the old man from the bait shop. Those same painfully happy eyes.

That mouth swollen half shut like it was holding in a secret. I couldn't believe it. I just saw you. How are you here? You're not on your roads anymore, neighbor. You're on our roads now. The old man grinned. His teeth were sparkling white, almost horse-sized,

so large that they didn't fit in his mouth. I sprinted to the van and grabbed my phone, ready to call the police the fire department anybody no service no matter how far I zoomed down on my maps app

all I saw was green the old man held the knife to my window he ground his enormous teeth together excitedly a fat glove of drool dribbled down his chin

like before I tried to reverse but the van lurched strangely he'd slash the tires. If he hit the window any harder, it might shatter. Go away! Just like that, the old man disappeared. The lights of the gas station immediately went out.

I sat in darkness, listening to my own ragged breaths, until a knife stabbed straight down through the metal roof. Ha ha ha ha! Long, neighbor! Don't you want a slushy! His next jab missed my ear by an inch. The wheels would get destroyed if I drove, but none of him than me. I swirved, but I wasn't going fast enough to fling away the attacker hacking at my roof. I pulled out onto the empty road, trying to build up speed.

I slammed on the brakes. With a shriek, a red uniformed shaped. flew through my high beams. I accelerated forward, but I didn't hear any thump. It clenched my teeth against the sound of metal scraping on asphalt. My rims weren't going to last much longer. I had to get off the road. But how? The charcoal-colored map that had got me into this was still in the passenger seat. I stopped in the middle of the deserted road to get my bearings. As I studied the map, realized that some of the strange gray lines might indicate a different kind of road, like the kind I was currently on. If I was right, there should be a turn off to a place called Yellow Vale

before too long. From there, I could connect to one of the red points and finally escape from wherever this was. My van had other plans. At least the exit for Yellow Vale was in sight when it finally broke down. With no other options, I stuffed only what was necessary into my backpack and started off on foot. My headlamp was the only light beneath the starless sky, a beacon for anything hunting out there in the dark.

Nothing moved. Not even the wind, but somehow the stillness made it worse. According to the map, I'd turn right after the exit and about two miles down the road, I'd find a red point. Exactly what it would be, whether it's safe or deadly, there was no way to know.

I walked up to the exit ramp like it was a sidewalk. It's not like there were any other cars on the road. I paused below the sign for Yellow Vale Six. The color and text were wrong somehow. Like, whoever had made it knew what a road sign was, but I'd never actually seen. seen one. I reached out to touch it, but its surface burbled, like acid toward my hand. I pulled away and kept walking. The same dead trees stretching on forever in every direction. The same

silence. I saw a pool of light in the abyss, getting closer with every step. Soon I was close enough to see what it was. A rest area. A little brown brick structure with restrooms, vending machines, trash cans, and benches. A beige RV was parked in front. Was this my red point? I just started up the ramp when I heard scuffling behind me. A pack of skinless, dog-like things were crossing the road behind me.

A few of them froze in the beam of my headlamp, snarling. They clawed the pavement, bent their raw bodies for attack. They were coming for the light. I hated giving up my vision, but I had no choice. I switched off my headlamp. The darkness filled with howls, angry, confused yips, and the clatter of paws on the pavement. I fixed my eyes on the rest area and tried not to think about unseen teeth sinking into my legs. By the time I was halfway up the ramp, I could no longer hear them.

I checked out the RV first. Its door was off its hinges and there was no light inside. I switched my headlamp back on and climbed the stairs. It was like a time capsule from the 1980s had exploded inside. Star Wars bed sheets on an overturned mattress, shattered wood paneling, a shredded stretch armstrong, and a dried-out, half-eaten corpse, hanging from the ceiling by its spiley-faced tie.

I backed slowly out of the RV, wondering if I'd see those skinless hounds waiting patiently for their meal. But the parking lot was deserted. The lights were on in the rest area, but the map frames and shelves were empty. I'd just begun to. to explore the men's restroom when a door creaked shut somewhere outside. I thought of the half-eaten corpse and the RV outside and scurried into a bathroom stall.

Heavy footsteps. A squeaky wheel. A wet, slopping sound. I pulled my knees to my chest. A stall door flew open. More wet slopping sounds. Through the gap, Beneath the stall door, I saw the bottom half of a janitorial uniform.

There was a push on the door and a slam. Anybody in there? I held my breath, and the thing outside started pulling the door off of its hinges. I shut my eyes tight. You are all right, man? Don't tell me you're another druggy. I was face-to-face with one. very confused

South Carolina custodian. I wanted to hug the guy, but I'd figured I'd already freaked him out enough. I rushed outside. Saw the brochures, the maps, the tourists and butterflies and morning sunshine. I felt myself slammed against a wall.

Two officers cuffed me, and I felt the charcoal colored map pulled from my grasp. The officers spun me around, receiving a warning from a bald white guy in a suit. Don't touch his skin till he's been debriefed. Once we were away from curious onlookers, he held up the map. I want you to tell me what you think this is. It shows places you can spend the night.

Places where people don't go. Places where people don't go. You got that part right, son. Too right. He flipped open a notepad. I'm going to ask you a couple of things, and you best answer honestly. We'll know if you're lying. Have you looked in a mirror in the past 48 hours?

Have you exchanged fluids with any entity within the past 48 hours? Can you tell me who the president is? Do you remember your mother's face? I'd been interrogated by police before, but never like this. The weird questions seemed to go on forever. Finally, the man stepped away and made a phone call. When he finished, the officers removed the cuffs. I'd warn you not to come back to this place after midnight.

But from the look on your face, I think you've learned your lesson already. He and the two officers walked down the grassy hill to an unmarked white SUV. So plain and soccer-mommish, it was almost funny. I never saw them again. But I've always slept in my own bed ever since. That's a good lesson for all of us. Never sleep in a bedroom on wheels that needs gasoline. It can really mess with your head and affect your mental health.

And that's why now we have a word from our sponsor, Better Help. But first, let me ask you, wasn't I great in that last story? I thought my performance was simply perfect. I appreciate the applause you likely gave me. Oh, wait, you think that's a bit arrogant of me, kind of conceded? Listen, don't think I have a big head. There's no lake named after me? No, no, of course, I'm just being silly. I'm not one to think that highly of myself or the stuff I do. And sometimes that can lead to struggles, because keeping our minds healthy and focused on the right things is important.

And that's why I believe better help online therapy can be a big help. Before I started getting therapy, I would be constantly down on myself, struggling with stuff like low self-esteem and elevated self-hatred. Not a good way to feel. But when I talked about these feelings with a therapist, I was shown ways to avoid the negative loop of those kinds of thoughts in order to focus on the better things about me. And you know what?

I've grown to realize that a lot of those negative thoughts were basically lies I was telling myself. That's the kind of stuff we need to stop. and BetterHelp can help you do that. Better Help is online therapy that offers video, phone, and even live chat-only therapy sessions, so you don't even have to see anyone on camera if you don't want to. It's much more affordable than in-person therapy,

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 BetterH-E-L-P.com slash no sleep. It's worth looking after your mind. And now, let's get back to the show. Grab your marshmallows and chocolate, because it's more horror time. One of the best things about camping

is sitting around a fire at night, watching the hypnotic flames, the crackling logs, the heady aroma of the burning wood. Ah, delightful. And making it even better, why telling scary stories, of course. But as we learn in this tale, shared with us by author T. Takata Wise,

when the spooky tales are done, they do the responsible thing and make sure the fire is out for the night, or at least they try. Performing this tale are Mary Murphy, Wafia White, Sarah Thomas, and Nicole Goodnight. So fight the darkness with the light, if you can. Sometimes you won't get the help you need from the campfire. It's really beautiful out here, Viv. Where did you hear about this place again? Some guy at work.

Ah, that's right. Well, it's going to be great for this bad boy. Looking forward to getting a good long exposure of Andromeda. I still can't believe you lugged your telescope all the way here. I still don't get why you don't get why I would. Took up enough goddamn room in the car. Viv! Come on, you've been in a moon ever since.

we left L.A. I'm just tired. Hey, can I talk to you over here for a second, please? So, Lee, what's up? Nice out here, huh? There's no service out here, Shell. Yeah, but I mean, what'll you be missing really? Everything? Yeah, maybe, but see that? Up there, those three gals that make a triangle? Oh, cool. Star. Never seen those before. It's called the Summers Triangle. Know why? They only come out in summer and form a triangle?

Smarty pants. It's made up of three stars called Denab, Vega, and Daltair. Denab is in the constellation Cygnus, which was where the Kepler Space Telescope was pointed. And... It was looking for other Earth-like planets. One's in habitable zones. Aliens.

Oh, that's kind of cool, I guess. Kind of cool? It's fucking amazing. Life. Out there, somewhere. Makes you wonder. Missed you, Michelle. Missed you too, Lily.

It's been a while, huh? You two getting along? I'm hungry. Campsites this way, sis. Help me lug the... Cooler. Uh, Shell, sorry about being a dick. Hey, no harm done. Do you mind helping me carry this? Oh, um, yeah, sure. Awesome. You mind grabbing the base? There's a grip on the side. Got it? Cool. I'm ready when you are. Light, you bastard. Just use a lighter. She's a wild woman.

Damn right. Besides, the fire's got to heat up before we can use it anyway. Seriously? Yeah, sis. Cool your chats. What did you bring to eat anyway? Stuff for hot dogs and burgers. Oh, and s'm s'm a vegetarian. What? Since when? Since two weeks ago, you would have known if you... I can make a mean grilled cheese with buns.

That sounds disgusting. Hey, don't knock it till you try it. The trick is to flip the buns around. So you grill the flat side. Got it. Ha ha ha. How long do we have to wait? Uh, 10, 15 minutes?

15 minutes? I can't tell if you're joking or not. It's really not that long. Hey, we can tell some spooky stories while we wait. I'm down. One in Rome. What are we 12? Come on, it'll be fun.

Anyone want to go first? Well, if no one wants to, I guess. I have one. Okay, Lee. Let's hear it then. One of my friends told me this a while ago. Apparently it happened to one of his friends. Sweet.

A friend of a friend tale. A what? Common form of folk tale. Sorry, Lee. Yeah, I guess it could be called that. This happened in Colorado. My friend's friend wasn't doing so hot mentally, so she decided to go camping in Rocky Mountain National Park.

Her friend, or... Co-worker, brother, I can't remember, told her that solo camping had helped him sort out some stuff and thought it had helped her too. Hey, Rocky Mountain National Park. That's a place to keep in mind for our next camping trip. More of a drive, though. Yeah, but it's Colorado. Who doesn't want to go to Colorado? Yeah, I'm sure as Californians will be graciously welcomed. We can hide our license plates or something. Hey, folks, Leah's telling a story.

Sorry, sis. Yeah, sorry, Lil. So your friend's friend went camping alone in Colorado. Did she see Bigfoot or something? No. She doesn't know what she saw. She doesn't know what happened. She doesn't know what happened? What does that mean? Weren't there all those cattle mutilations in Colorado? Maybe she was abducted. aliens. No, that's not what I meant.

Something happened to her and she remembers what it was, but she doesn't... She doesn't understand it. You gonna elaborate or what? Sorry, I'm bad at telling stories. Hey, you have my interest peaked. Mine too. So, what happened? She gets to the park a little before sunset.

The area where she booked her first campsite is full of people, kids, dogs, laughter, music, you know, all that. All that. She sets a pretend and decides that her friend or her brother or co-worker or whatever was right. It feels great to be out in nature, like maybe her problems aren't so bad after all. She feels happy for the first time in a long time and wonders if she should just stay there at the campsite. But some people show up the next day with the reservation. She has a choice, move on or leave. I'm guessing she moved on.

Well, obviously, you ding-dong, otherwise there wouldn't be a story. Come on, people. Let her finish. Yeah, she moves on. The next site is way, way, way deeper out in the woods. It's basically backcountry. She isn't an experienced hiker, so once again, she ends up getting to the next campsite around dusk. I'm sensing a theme here. She's completely exhausted, but she sets up her tent and builds a fire.

Oh, crap, our tents. We can set them up after we eat. Shouldn't it take long. Lee? The second night is bad. My friend's friend isn't used to the woods. The real woods, every sound, every movement scares her so she decides to leave the campfire going. Damn.

Kind of makes me glad that we're out here. In the middle of the desert? You can see for miles. Feel safer. You know? Still want to go to Colorado? Well, we wouldn't go back country camping alone, nerd. We'd stay at the first sight, the one with all the people.

Yeah, I guess that's true. Sorry, Lil. Continue. Wait, just an aside. Let's definitely not leave our campfire going tonight. Dangerous as hell, especially nowadays. Yeah, my friend's friend realized that after the fact, but she was scared and wasn't thinking. I mean, can you blame her?

What happened to her that night? How bad was it? It was pretty bad. Well? Yeah, what the hell? Don't leave us hanging. The night, my friend's friend, hears something walking around her camp. Like an animal?

That's what she thought, yeah, an animal scavenging. Still, though, it creeped her out so she decides to leave as soon as the sun comes up. She wakes up the next day, just as the sun is starting to set. She's pissed about sleeping so late again, but there's no way she was hiking back in the dark, so she has to stay for one more night. Screw that. I would have just left. No, you wouldn't have. You're afraid of the dark. I am not. What happened on the third night?

That night, she refuses to sleep, only leaving her tent to add more fuel to the fire. It isn't long until she hears the footsteps again between the trees, just beyond the glow of her campsite. Then something hits the sight of her tent. Hard. She's scared, not thinking straight, and goes outside. There's someone standing between the trees. My friend's friend yells at them, tells them to leave her alone. At first, nothing happens.

Then the figure starts to laugh. Scared and alone and not knowing what else to do, she runs back into her tent. The laughing gets louder and laughing. until, according to her, hundreds of hands start slapping, poking, pushing the sides of her ton. She passes out. Holy shit. She wakes up at sunset the next day. By then, she's decided that enough is enough she's leaving. She's packing her things when she hears it. Help me! Please help me! Someone screaming out in the woods. My friend's friend runs towards it before realizing that she's in no shape to help. As she turns back, the screams change to that sick laughter.

Somehow she finds her way back to the campsite. Why the hell didn't she just leave? Screw the stuff. She could always buy more, right? She was scared. I think it's easy to say you'd do everything right when you hear about how other people handle things. But the reality is, no one knows how they'd react. Yeah, I guess that's true.

So your friend's friend gets back to her campsite and what? She starts tearing down her tent. She gets two of the four pulls out when she realized. is that the tent isn't collapsing like it should be. So she peeks inside and sees something that she still can't explain. What? Herself. What?

She sees herself sitting there in the middle of the tent, so she does what any normal person would do and runs. Finally! She's running through the woods, not watching where she's going, just trying to get as far as possible when she runs straight into another person. Oh, shit. She starts screaming and flailing, trying to get away, then she hears this voice, a regular voice, it's a guy. She calms down and asks him who he is.

Apparently, he's a park ranger, says he heard someone screaming that he was going to check it out. Thing is, he's wearing a suit, and when he moves away, his jacket flaps open and she sees he's packing. Don't some rangers carry guns? Aren't they technically government agents? I don't know, but they definitely don't wear suits. Anyway, he tells her that he'll take her back to the trailhead. leads her to his Jeep or a SUV or whatever and that's when it happened oh god what they say her well the her that's not her standing in the middle of the road the ranger looks at the road then at my friend's friend in the seat next to him and back to the road and says i don't get paid enough for this shit and guns it you mean he ran that thing over like he killed her it i'm guessing yeah My friend's friend never saw a body or anything. Apparently, he backed up over it too.

Um, wow. Anyway, he drives my friend's friend back to the trailhead, drops her off, gives her his card, and when she looks back up, he's already driving away back into the forest. You're joking, right? What? She was saved by a park ranger wearing a suit, who then ran over her doppelganger, and gave her a business card. Let me guess.

Everyone stood up and clapped. Also, how the hell did he even get a car into the woods? I don't know. Maybe there are Ranger roads out there or something? I'm sorry, but that's ridiculous. It was a pretty good story up until that part. The arrival of the quote-unquote Ranger really takes away all the tension. Yeah, sis, I got to agree.

I mean, the whole evil doppelganger thing was. hard enough to suspend disbelief for, but that ending was... Well, I believe her. Why? My friend trusts her. He said she wouldn't make something like that out. Besides, he said he saw the card. Is that so?

Well, good news is, buyers ready. Who's hungry? Whoa, that's so cool. Will we be all right? Should be. We finished all the food, right? No, but D's going to help me. lug the leftovers back to the car, aren't you, D?

As if I have a choice. You're walking back to the car? No? It's like a ten-minute walk, sis. We'll be fine. You'll be able to see our lights. Or, do you think we're going to see ourselves out there and pull a switcheroo? Don't be an ass.

Race ya. Hey! Cheater! You didn't even grab the food! Did they ever call the number on the card? What? Oh, I don't know. I don't think so.

Why? Just wondering. It's been like three or four years since this happened. I don't know if my friend's friend still even has that card. Gotcha. That grilled cheese wasn't bad, by the way. What? Oh, thanks.

That story really scared you, huh? No, it's just... I've heard a similar story. What? What do you mean? A guy in a suit with a card shows up in an unexpected place. Forget it. It's most likely just a coincidence.

These things usually are. All right, dorks. If we're going to get up early tomorrow for the hike, we should hit the hay now. Hit the hay? Yikes. Shut up. Shell, you want to show us how to put out the fire? Yeah.

Help me that shovel, please. All right. Should be completely dead. now. Anyone want to look at some stars before... Ahem. Hitting the hay? What's wrong? Did something happen? The campfire. The campfire? What about it?

It's on? It's on. What do you mean it's on? Someone relit it? Someone... What time is it, Lil? 3.34? Maybe Dinah and Vivian went somewhere. I thought so, too.

Will you help me check? Yeah. Come on. What are you doing? Is my sister here with you? Uh, yeah. Where else would she be? What are you doing?

Did you guys restart the fire? What? No. You guys have been in here since we went to bed? Uh, yeah. Where else would we go? Uh, what's going on? So no one started the fire?

I don't understand. Maybe it was relit on its own? I put it out. You guys watched me. Maybe you didn't do it right. Maybe you missed part of it, an ember, and it relit. Isn't that how wildfires start? Yes, Viv. Which is why I completely doused it in water, mixy ashes dismantling the whole thing in the process, then dumped what, like five shovelfuls of dirt on it? You guys watched me. Do you not remember? This is a full fucking fire, you guys.

Like an entire newly built campfire. I didn't do this. If someone did, just say it. This isn't funny. Chill, Michelle. Didn't you do this, Vivian? Like, as a joke. Are you serious?

I've been in the tent the whole time. With you, Danya. I don't even know how to build a fire like that. I just stick sticks together. You've seen me. Remember the last time I tried? And look, none of our firewood is gone. It's still in the plastic.

Maybe another camper is messing with us. Oh, that would be fucked. There were no other cars that the trail had and no other campfires around us, though. Right? Uh, folks, where's my telescope? What? My telescope. Pretty hard to miss.

It was right there. Where is it? Do you guys hear? Holy shit. How did it do that? What the fuck is going on? Someone is messing with us, guys. They have to be.

Fires don't do this. Turn on and off like there's a switch attached to them. We should go. We can't. Are you serious? Taina. Someone just stole my $3,000 telescope. So what?

Buy a new one. I don't want to fucking die. Are you out of your mind? Shell, did you just not see the fire? Fine. Fuck the telescope. But we have to put out the fire. Full shit.

If someone is messing with us, let them put it out. Let's just go. Please. I'm not sticking around like some idiot in a horror movie. I'm not just going to. For fuck's sake. I'll help you put out the goddamn fire. You two pack our shit.

Do you think someone is messing with? with us? It may be, but... What? Who would it be? There's no one else around. Everything's packed. You ready or what? Shell? Yeah. Then let's go. Please. Do you think that was? Who cares? Can we just go? That was real, right? Like, we didn't imagine it. You guys, look... How did it... How the fuck did it relax? Um, you guys, is that, is that a person?

Nope, nope, nope, nope. Go, just go. The nightmares may be over, but the darkness will linger on, so long as you reside in the no-sleep zone. The No Sleep podcast is presented by Creative Reason Media. The musical score was composed by Brandon Boone. Our production team is Phil Mikulski, Jeff Clement, Jesse Cornett. Our creative content manager is Olivia White. Our editor-in-chief is Jessica McAvoy.

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