The NoSleep Podcast - S19 Ep8: NoSleep Podcast S19E08

Episode Date: March 26, 2023

It’s Episode 08 of Season 19. We ponder weak and weary with tales about creepy carnivals.“The Ride” written by T.N. Guignol (Story starts around 00:04:50)Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Narrator – Kristen DiMercurio, Samantha – Nichole Goodnight, Andrew – Elie Hirschman, Blake – Matthew Bradford, Erin – Katabelle Ansari, EMT – Linsay Rousseau, Gift Shop Employee – Dan Zappulla“For the Children” written by A.M. Dodds-Wade (Story starts around 00:31:50)TRIGGER WARNING!Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Ashley – Erin Lillis, Gas Station Attendant – Mary Murphy, Cheese Monger – David Cummings, Ticket Seller – Katabelle Ansari, Izzy – Erika Sanderson, Jiggles – Elie Hirschman, Funhouse Worker – Dan Zappulla, Robert – Graham Rowat, Short Man – Jesse Cornett, Magician – Peter Lewis, Effects Lady – Sarah Ruth Thomas, Mirror Maze Barker – Atticus Jackson“Vessel No. 9” written by C.T. Flaska (Story starts around 01:01:00)Produced by: Jesse CornettCast: Narrator – Kyle Akers, Instructor – Jesse Cornett, Little Girl – Nichole Goodnight, Welcome Voice – David Cummings, Park Employee #1 – Matthew Bradford, Park Employee #2 – Graham Rowat, Dad – Atticus Jackson“Magic Forest” written by Summer Feaker (Story starts around 01:48:50)Produced by: Jeff ClementCast: Jake – Jeff Clement, Brynn – Danielle McRae, Ticket Seller – Linsay Rousseau, The Princess – Sarah Ruth Thomas, Bo Peep – Jessica McEvoy, The Witch – Mary MurphyThis episode is sponsored by:HelloFresh - With HelloFresh, you get fresh, pre-measured ingredients and mouthwatering seasonal recipes delivered right to your door. Skip trips to the grocery store and count on HelloFresh to make home cooking easy, fun, and affordable ñ and that's why it's America's #1 meal kit!. Go to HelloFresh.com/nosleep60 and use code nosleep60 for 60% off plus free shipping.Betterhelp - This episode is sponsored by BetterHelp. Give online therapy a try at betterhelp.com/nosleep and get on your way to being your best self.Click here to learn more about The NoSleep Podcast teamClick here to learn more about Edgar Allan Poe from author Rene RehnClick here to learn more about T.N. GuignolClick here to learn more about A.M. Dodds-WadeClick here to learn more about C.T. FlaskaExecutive Producer & Host: David CummingsMusical score composed by: Brandon Boone“For the Children” illustration courtesy of Jen TracyAudio program ©2023 – 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. The works of Edgar Allan Poe reside in the public domain. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The No Sleep Podcast brings you the fun frights of carnivals and theme parks this week. We turn amusement parks into abusement parks. And while all the rides and attractions can be fun, you know what's not so fun about carnivals? The food. A day of corn dogs, fried dough, and cotton candy can leave you craving some nutritious and delicious meals. Like the kind you get from Hello Fresh. Did you know March is National Nutrition Month?

Hello Fresh makes it easy to choose delicious dietitian-approved meals. Simply look for the Dietitian Win tag on their menu choices for meals under 700 calories and with one-third less sodium. HelloFresh has 40 weekly recipes to choose from for all meal occasions, lifestyles, and preferences. Take your pick from meals like soy glaze salmon with rice or mushroom and chive risotto. I love the choices I get from HelloFresh and their sister company, Green Chef. Both services allow me to switch between the brands for an even wider array of delicious food. So go to hellofresh.com slash no sleep 60 and use code no sleep 60 for 60% off plus free shipping. This isn't a fun house mirror illusion. You heard me right.

Just go to hellofresh.com slash no sleep 60 and use code no sleep 60 for 60% off plus free shipping. Take advantage of this great offer and enjoy health. Hello Fresh, America's number one meal kit. And now, buckle in for this roller coaster of horror. In the dark shadows of the Rue Morg, to the rhythm of the stolen telltale heart, as the black cat swings upon the pendulum, and the cask offers its sherry deep and dry. As you knock at our chamber door, we open and usher you in. Our sleepless tales for you in store

And the terror shall be lifted Brace yourself for the No Sleep Podcast Welcome to the No Sleep Podcast I'm your host David Cummings With spring upon us that means summer isn't too far away And it's during those warm summer days and nights That we gather for some fun at the various carnivals theme parks, festivals, and fairs that are held near us.

We don't often associate those settings as ones for horror, that is, unless you choose to venture through a haunted house attraction or brave one of the spine-tangling and spine-cracking roller coasters. But there are many examples of horror stories which use a festive carnival or theme park as a background for the terror. And it's not just the dark abandoned theme park motif. Perhaps it's the juxtaposition of horror taking place, in a location usually reserved for fun and frivolity that makes it so effective.

And in this episode, we feature tales which take place in these fun settings of amusement, turning fun into fear, as it were. And while theme parks weren't around during the life of Edgar Allan Poe, he was still able to conjure some nightmares from a setting familiar to him and known in most cultures throughout history. The Carnival. One of Poe's most famous stories, the cask of Amanteado, begins in the setting of a carnival where people are dressed in fanciful costumes and masks.

In fact, the character of Fortunato, destined for a tragic end, is described as wearing the multicolored costume of the jester, including a cone cap with bells. So, from Edgar Allan Poe to current day, we find the carnivals in amusement parks not just entertaining us, but terrifying us as well. So let's dawn our masks and enter the gates of our own scream parks this week. And now our tales come to you upon a midnight dreary. Best not to ponder them while weak and weary. In our first tale, we meet a group of friends heading to the theme park in hopes of being some of the first to try the park's newest ride. And for Sam, getting over a recent breakup with her boyfriend, it seems fitting that the attraction is called Escape from Planet Pain.

But in this tale, shared with us by authors, T. N. Gignoll, the gang discovers that a new ride can be extra thrilling and chilling in many unexpected ways. Performing this tale are Kristen Di Maccurio, Nicole Goodnight, Ellie Hirschman, Matthew Bradford, Caterbell Ansari, Lindsay Russo, and Dan Zapula. So buckle up, strap in, and listen to the attendant. You want to make sure you do everything so you can enjoy the ride. and state-of-the-art timed visual effects really make it revolutionary. Samantha had tuned Andrew out several minutes ago. She, Andrew, and a couple of their mutual friends, Blake and his girlfriend, Aaron,

Sam had only met Andrew a few times prior to today, were waiting in line for the soft opening of fantasy world's newest attraction, Escape from Planet Pain. Andrew, a theme park obsessive, had been rattling off facts and insights he learned about the new ride for roughly the entire time they'd been in line. By Sam's estimation, this was at least two and a half hours. The group had agreed to avoid looking at the time, or more specifically, complaining about the time, as that would only lead to an increased conscious awareness of how long they all had been waiting and would continue to wait.

None of them had a true knowledge of how long the weight was going to be, or how much longer they had left, as none had ever traveled through this queue before, and the newness of the ride meant that the electronic estimated wait time sign at the entrance wasn't working yet. So, they attempted to kill time with casual topics, ooing and eyeing over the various galactic-themed decorations throughout the queue, and picking up bits and pieces of Andrew's ramblings about the ride. The guy looked like he was about to pee his pants with excitement, or perhaps due to the extra-extra large souvenir, fantasy cup he'd been drinking throughout the day so far. Over three dozen advanced animatronics. Video screens on par with spooky castes. calling it 5D, an entirely new dimension of experience.

Bits and pieces. If she were being honest with herself, Samantha had mostly agreed to come along today in an attempt to do something other than lie around, texting Mark on and off. She and Mark were currently in the awkward phase of a breakup where neither was precisely sure why they were broken up. Sam had dumped Mark, listing his consistent flakiness, prioritization of friends, and general lack of drive as the then-legitimate reasons for the termination of the relationship. However, being alone removes the shit-tinted glasses that color and accentuate flaws. After spending weeks tossing to and fro in a bed that felt too large, Sam was willing to look past the early morning,

Where Are You, texts, the cold dinners from Mark's tardy arrivals, and the late, late, late, clamors into bed after hours of video games, if it just meant having him next to her once more. night after night following the breakup, she lain awake, texting Mark, wondering if she should invite him over. Loneliness was worse than his worst quirks. Leaning against a drywall rocket ship that was already acquiring a formidable chewing gum collection, Sam scrolled through her text messages, picking out various moments in time to replay like an old home movie. Missing you, I'm here, I'm not going anywhere. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. You can't help how you feel. You You were never this understanding. People change. People change for the people they think are worth it.

Sam sighed and hung her head. She was torturing herself by disappearing back through their shared history to relive the feelings that accompanied these single flash photos of memory. And if she didn't already know this, her friends had all been intent on reinforcing the fact. This was the sort of half-requested advice that close friends gave in times of breakups. They'd take the far right stance, insisting, a person to abandon all thoughts of the ex and move as far away from the situation as possible. They'd offered to show up and trash souvenirs from the relationship, often laying down a blanket accusation such as,

he's the worst, fuck him, and he's a complete asshole. He doesn't know what he's missing. This is natural. A friend outside of the relationship can only see the hurt that has been caused. Blake was one of these friends. Blake reached out and put a hand on Sam's shoulder, seeming to notice her disconnection from the group,

She raised her head to look at him. Hey, fuck him. There it is. Sam smiled, somewhat embarrassed that her emotions had become so immediately readable. She brushed her hair out of her face and mouth to quiet, thanks, before tucking her phone back into her rear pocket and leaning on the handrail, stretching her arms out and groaning. She turned to Andrew, desperate for the distraction. So, uh, the thing you sit in, what's that like?

Caught off guard. Andrew looked to Sam, then lit up like a child seeing his favorite cartoon character. The ride vehicle! Holy cow! It's ahead of its time. Completely trackless. It moves via magnetic propulsion. And the vehicle itself is essentially a huge robotic arm, patented by Fantastic World, called the Kooky Hand. It can move 360 degrees on a spherical plane in any direction and rotate the ride guests to face scenes and effects at virtually any angle. It's insane. While talking, Andrew was using one arm propped up on the other at the elbow to represent the ride's technology, moving it back and forth, up and down, to demonstrate its range of motion.

He looked as if he were performing some sort of odd, minimalist, dinosaur-themed puppet show. Sam smiled. Although she couldn't understand having the sort of trivial knowledge that Andrew had, his enthusiasm was certainly infectious. She couldn't help but grin as the pale, dorky teenager, poured out information on a ride that barely anyone had even been on yet. Sam didn't share a love of theme park rides. As a kid, Sam had gotten stuck at the top of a roller coaster, right before the drop, and employees had climbed to the top of the incline to help them disembark. It was the

most terrifying moment of her entire life thus far. She, at the tender age of nine, had been forced to walk, step by step, down from the top of the tallest coaster in the Midwest. Even now, even now, now, at nearly 20 years old, Sam could put herself in her helpless child mindscape of that moment. Please, please, Daddy, tell them to make the ride work. Please, please, no. No, please don't have the seatbelt come off. I'm scared, I'm so scared, please. I'll do anything. I'll never leave my toys out again if you make the ride work. I'll be good. I'll be so good. Don't make me use those stairs. Please, Daddy, I'm scared. I'm going to fall. In retrospect, the escape method was extremely unsafe. There wasn't so much as a handrail to prevent the evacuating guests from plummeting

off the edge to their doom. Sure, the coaster was an old ride belonging to an even older theme park, but my God, they couldn't put up a simple railing. I suppose they never expected to have to evacuate. After that event, it was years before Sam ever dared to step inside the colorful, cheery arches of a theme park. She nearly passed out the first time she attempted to ride a slow-moving musical log flume at the age of 14. At 16, she could do spinning teacups and motion simulators again. At 18, 18, she conquered a drop tower. Still, at her current age, she'd yet to do another roller coaster. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

It's not a coaster. It's an immersive, themed, dark ride. By the way, you know, out of 100,000 attendance at the average park, there will only be six injuries. Sam shivered. How bad were they hurt? Back in the moment, an energy could be felt among the crowd. No one knew where the queue ended, but some of the key ended. but somewhere between Andrew's excited bobbing and some anticipatory murmuring in the crowd,

Sam's group began to realize that the line must be ending soon. To confirm these suspicions, the next corner they turned introduced them to a boarding station. The wait was over. Sam and her friend were going to be among the first to ride one of the newest innovations in theme park technology, or so Andrew kept shouting over the spaceship noises. After a few more minutes of impatience, the legs of which none of them had ever experienced, an unenthused teenager wearing a futuristic-looking jumpsuit gestured for them to find their seats on the four-capacity vehicle.

The vehicle, for all of Andrew's fuss, wasn't much to look at. It looked like a tall bench with dividers, really. Each of them took their respective seats and found themselves strapped in by another unsmiling, dead-eyed employee. The restraints lowered down over their heads and secured onto their chests, and the vehicle began to move away from the boarding station, as Sam and her friends gave a return wave. to the lifeless, limp gestures from the employees that could barely be considered waving.

The ride had begun. Breathe. Inhale. Let it out slowly. You're safe. You're secure. Rest and enjoy yourself. Sam repeated this mantra to herself a few times as the vehicle elevated several feet off the ground.

The experience, as Andrew insisted on calling it, began with a series of impossibly tall screens, simulating a rocket launch, making the riders feel as if they were barreling past stars and space dust to exit our galaxy and enter an alien, unfamiliar territory. The ride vehicle moved out of the room with the screens and into a room the size of a middle school gymnasium. The room was exploding with light and sound and color.

Ultraviolet meteors careened in circles via a spinning contraption. Humongous cartoony planets rotated in space. The walls were painted to look like endless space and featured lights emulating distant shining stars. It was a delight for the senses that quickly became completely overwhelming and almost sickening when combined with the intense, gyrating movements of the kooky hand that contained the friends. It truly did move with the freedom slash ability of a wrist and forearm, twisting in every direction as if it

belonged to some building-sized robot hiding beneath the ride. It's certainly thrilling. Sam had to admit to herself as her body was thrown up ways and downways and every which ways by this machine. She took in the colorful planets and shining comets that surrounded them and found herself in that moment, forgetting the outside worries and just enjoying the ride. She even chuckled a little. So this is the key. Let go, laugh, except that sometimes life is just a giant mechanism tossing me around until I land in the right place. Sometimes things are out of my control. She looked over at Andrew, who appeared to be having the time of his life. His smile overtook his entire face as he turned his head rapidly,

trying to take in every element of his first ride-through, of many, assuredly, of this new attraction. He appeared to absorb far more of the detail and functionality of the ride than any average parkgoer might. Seeing his unadultered glee did add to Sam's enjoyment of the ride, and her ability to leave behind the love woes that had weighed her down nearly every moment of every day of the weeks prior. The ride vehicle wove and dodged through what appeared to be near-miss-spaced collisions. It was like an indoor roller coaster, simulating the experience of almost tragedy, proximate horror, and nigh death. But it's not a coaster, we're indoors. The massive robotic arm next approached a simulated asteroid field, with volleyball-sized space

rocks soaring around on a blossoming series of mechanical limbs. That whirling device, though meant not to attract the eyes, looked like an upset mechanized tree, with each branch sporting a hefty ball painted to look like a small meteor. The device was intimidating. However, the rider's vehicle swerved and dodged the asteroids with ease in a delicate yet terrifying choreography that had been programmed into each mechanism. Sam wondered how long it took the fantastineers to tweak that programming in order to prevent these rocks from smashing into the seats

that would soon contain real guests. She looked to Andrew again, who was laughing and clapping his hands together like a delighted infant in front of a set of jingling keys. In the midst of his delight, one of the asteroids did, in fact, come down and slam into Andrew's lap. Oh! Andrew adjusted his glasses and turned to his friend as the asteroid retracted. He shouted over the ride audio, pounding sci-fi music and space sound effects out of the speakers in their vehicle. These things happen with a new ride. Not a big deal, just knock the wind out of me.

No sooner had Andrew finished his confident apology in the stead of the ride's designers when another, larger asteroid, soared through the air and landed directly on Andrew's face, caving in the front of his skull and turning all of his rather prominent facial features into wet, distorted slop.

The asteroid removed itself from his head, which had become shaped more like a crescent moon than an oval. And what was left of his mouth, sputtered and attempted to speak, instead spitting out a few bloody shattered teeth. The hand he'd been using to gesticulate went limp, and his body collapsed forward into the ride's restraints, dripping hot, wet face into his lap, and down onto the floor of the ride far below.

Sam screamed. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. Blake and Aaron seemed to miss the ride's fatal blow on their friend, and so had their attention caught by Sam's screams. Aaron went pale, and Blake struggled against his restraints, waving his arms. Hey, stop the ride. Stop the fucking ride, my friend's hurt. Hey!

He's more than hurt. Sam attempted to catch her breath and refocus on the present. He was laughing 60 seconds ago. Now what is he? Blake, is he okay? Aaron clutched on to her boyfriend as best she could. could while restrained by the ride. He, he's fine.

Babe, I'm sure. He's great. Andrew's corpse dripped more of his face onto his lap in response. The vehicle whipped and dodged around more space rocks, and the remaining friends flinched and held up their arms any time one got too close. Fearing of fate like Andrews, Aaron held her eyes shut, while Sam looked on in terror as the ride moved into the next room. Blake still struggled, looking around for any camera monitors or tinted windows.

that might have an operator hiding behind it. Hey, hey, hey, stop. Stop the ride. Get us off now. Please, Daddy, please. I'll be good. Just make the ride stop. The ride hurtled on in defiance. Past the asteroid field room was an alien planet, the titular Planet Paine. The robotic arm that carried the surviving teens and one limp, lifeless teen, was weaving through alien greenery, passing under glowing blue fruit that sprouted off of gnarled unnatural trees.

the backdrop of the room was painted with bright contrasting colors, while the ground featured more alien plants, many of which were moving and interacting in the scene. It would have been beautiful if there wasn't a dead body next to them. As the ride vehicle soared past the plant life of the strange planet, it stopped and presented the riders with an audio-animatronic of an alien species. It was intimidating for certain. It looked like a dog with a long, worm-like body,

but covered in spikes and fangs. It reared back its head and roared, triggering the ride vehicle to back up and head in another direction. The ride did not answer, as it entered a near room that featured many more of these dogworms. Some were static, merely statues, but several were full-functioning animatronics, like the last one they'd encountered. Many lunged and swiped at the ride vehicle, which did not assuage the rider's discomfort. The ride's car, like a four-seater bench, tilted and sent the rider's supine, facing the ceiling. A bicycle-sized wormdog animatronic descended on a cable from the ceiling until it was mere feet from the remaining riders. It snarled and opened its alien jaws, allowing a snake-like inner creature to extend out of the animatronic and towards the riders.

The scene was certainly meant to scare. However, the riders, in this case, feared on a far deeper level than the rides design. miners had probably intended. The alien bot writhed and screeched as the digestive snake creature whipped back and forth, rising and falling. As the riders looked on, uncertain of whether to keep crying out for help, the mechanical alien snake straightened itself and shot directly forward, rocketing into the vehicle and piercing straight through Blake's chest. A trained ear might even have heard the solid funk that the animatronic part made when it clattered against the tough plastic of the chair after exiting out back of the young man.

Blake looked down and examined the scene. He gripped the mechanism in a way that looked almost curious, like someone who'd just spilled pickle relish on their shirt. Then the life left him, and he collapsed like a rag doll. Aaron shrieked, nearly out of breath after her sobs. She reached over as best she could, attempting to remove the automated creature and wake Blake. The creature retracted, taking with her.

with its shards of sternum, muscle tissue, and a thick layer of blood as it went back into the larger alien robot and back up towards the ceiling. Aaron was unintelligible. She babbled and cried as she grasped for Blake's face, shaking him by the nearest shoulder and begging for vitality to re-enter the still being beside her. This isn't real. It's just a nightmare. Sam consoled herself sincerely, relaxing herself. She bought into the lie that the moment could not exist. This couldn't happen. How could it? New rides are exhaustively tested to ensure safety. It was a dream. It had to be. She almost laughed. How silly that her brain could conjure something like this the night before a big theme park trip with Aaron Blake and that friend of theirs, what was his name? Why the fuck? Are you smiling?

Aaron's shriek shook Sam out of her lie. It wasn't a dream. The sensations were palpable. She'd never felt. a headache or stomachache in a dream. This was all too real. Sam felt her consciousness shift, as she allowed her eyes to focus once more. Her days ceased, and she became very aware of the danger she was in. Erin was screaming, having gone from panic to full hysterics. She began thrashing wildly, her hair flinging back and forth across her face as she kicked and swung as hard as the ride restraints would allow her.

Erin, Aaron, stop. It's got to be ending soon. Aaron was inconsolable, seeming to not even hear Sam's pleas to calm her. The young girl continued to flail, making special efforts to hit herself against the restraints and pull on the belts that connected to and secured the restraint. She hollered like a wounded coyote as she seemed to feel something loosen on one end of the restraints. Turning all of her attention to that point of containment, she appeared to focus her remaining strength into tearing apart one particular hinge

that seemed to be able to free her from her constraint to the ride's vehicle. She gripped the hinge, alternating between pulling on it and hammering down on it with a closed fist. She still shrieked and grunted while doing so. She looked and sounded like a wild animal, having lost all reason. The hinge appeared to bend, and once Aaron realized that, she put all of her force into pushing against the restraint while the ride continued to flash and roar around them. Aaron turned red in the face as she exerted all the vigor she could muster to drive her palms into the restraint and release herself. Eventually it gave way and flung up like a door on a Delorean, releasing its prior victim.

Aaron giggled madly, looking to Sam and grinning. I'll come back for you! Then Aaron jumped from the vehicle and plummeted down at least 15 feet. Sam watched, unable to look away as the gears that powered the kooky hand, gripped Aaron immediately like a Venus flytrap. She landed on this machinery almost in a belly flop form. She screamed, but also seemed still to giggle. The base of the kooky hand, unaware or perhaps uncaring, of Aaron's predicament,

rolled on to its next destination, preparing to swallow the young girl whole. Sam imagined, somewhat pleasantly, that Aaron would be flattened out like a cartoon character, having then the ability to stand up on a flimsy 2D frame before re-inflating herself and walking away unscathed. This was a much more lovely image than what Sam actually saw, which was her friend's lower half, being bent up and backwards until her heels nearly touched the back of her head,

folding her neatly before squashing her flat like a pinini. The robotic bench, with Sam as its lone passenger, careened onwards to the rides finale. The final scene of the ride was full of light and color and spectacle. It was remarkably undangerous. But that didn't stop Sam from flinching and letting out a small yelp any time something got a little too close. After a brief returning to Earth effect,

the ride vehicle lowered onto a moving walkway, and the restraints released, allowing Sam to exit the ride. Of course, the release also allowed the bodies of Andrew and Blake to plummet forward onto the walkway, landing clumsily and evoking screams from onlookers. Sam noticed, from the screams, that a crowd had gathered at the ride's exit. All faces looked concerned. Some were horrified, some wiping tears from their faces. A group of EMTs moved immediately to the vehicle and addressed Sam.

Ma'am, ma'am, you need to sit down. Are you hurt? An EMT waved a hand in front of her face, as a few others passed behind her and knelt to assess the bodies. Are we okay? Are we safe, Daddy? I was so scared. I was so scared I was going to fall. I didn't want to go on a ride again. I want to leave. The frantic dialogue around her softened to a near mute, and everything became background noise as she crossed past the EMT and out into the ride's gift shop. She walked solemnly, barely feeling, vision fuzzy and unfocused, passing rows of space-themed merchandise. She took small notice of one plush toy depicting the dogworm that killed Blake. Shuffling over to a desk with stiff, shocked employees behind it,

Sam directed her attention up to a row of screens. They were photos from the ride. One featured Sam's vehicle. Apparently, the picture was taken just before Aaron had leapt to her fate. As it pictured, a dead Blake slumped to the side with a soft ball-sized hole through his chest, along with Andrew, sporting a face smashed in beyond a face. recognition. Aaron was grinning, almost directly at the camera, with her restraint unlatched, and her body positioned on the edge of the seat, ready to jump. Sam's own face seemed without

expression. She looked like she'd been caught off guard for a school picture. Sam felt a vibration in her pocket. She pulled out the phone and looked at the glowing incoming call icon, Mark. She considered momentarily answering, but instead she dropped her phone where she held it, and allowed it to hit the ground, shattering the screen. Looking back up at the screens, Sam noticed a sign for pricing. It read, five by seven inches, $22. Sam grunted, seeing the cost. One of the young employees, Zit-faced and wearing a hat with a foam spaceship erupting from the top of it, turned, and met the gaze of where she was looking. He blushed and scrambled to respond. Oh, you, uh, I mean, uh, you could just,

have it. I hope you learn something from that story. Before you ride, it's best to let them work out all the design flaws with new rides, something very much worth knowing. But when it comes to getting to know ourselves, well, that's a lifelong process worth exploring. And that's why we're thankful that this show is sponsored by BetterHelp. When it comes to therapy, one thing that has helped me the most is the understanding that I have changed a lot over the years, and that can be a very good thing. We can grow, learn, and get better, better for ourselves and those around us. Therapy for me hasn't been so much about overcoming something traumatic. It's about deepening my self-awareness and understanding what really makes me tick. Therapy, like the kind you can get from the licensed therapists at better

help, can be a wonderful journey of self-discovery which can yield meaningful results. If you're thinking of starting therapy, give better help a try. It's entirely online, designed to be convenient, flexible and suited to your schedule. Just fill out a brief questionnaire to get matched with a licensed therapist and switch therapists at any time for no additional charge. So discover your potential with BetterHelp. Visit BetterHelp.com slash no sleep today to get 10% off your first month. That's betterhelp.com slash no sleep.

Thanks to BetterHelp for sponsoring this episode. Now this next story takes us to the carnival where we're not kidding around. The fun of going to the carnival can be magnified when you bring your child with you. Seeing the joy in their face can make it all seem so much better. But in this tale, shared with us by author A.M. Dodds Wade, we learn that sometimes parents use the carnival as a way to get a break from the pressure of parenthood, at least for a few hours. I join Aaron Lillis, Mary Murphy, Catabelle Ansari, Erica Sanderson,

Ellie Hirschman, Dan Zapula, Graham Rowett, Jesse Cornett, Peter Lewis, Sarah Thomas, and Atticus Jackson in performing this tale. So enjoy yourself and have fun. But remember, ultimately, you're going to the carnival for the children. The instructions are simple. The instructions are vague. Different people say different things and fuck knows. Since it's the dark net, it may not even be true, but I followed the instructions.

Gone out like a light, Izzy had been asleep, loaded with melatonin pills and an antihistamine, and so far, he'd been quiet as the dead. Not used to that much silence, I found it unsettling, but I didn't want to turn on the radio or Bluetooth in case it would wake him. I should have brought your butts, but I would. was so concerned about not messing up the instructions that I couldn't squeeze in any other thoughts. Will I hate the silence? All the time. I thought how nice it would be for Izzy to shut the fuck up, about how I could throw away Izzy's noisy toys and smashing the iPad so he can't watch his

obnoxious John Johnny Yes Papa video ever again. I think I will like the silence, but that night all I heard were the thuds of my chest. Thoughts spun in my head through the entire twilight drive. Would I hate the change? According to those anonymous posters on the dark web who track the carnival, it comes up the last weekend of July on the same farm outside of St. Montan, a nowhere town. The instructions say you must start from the town square and go south on Johnson Road. The town is old school, looking like the newest buildings are from the 60s. There's a park in the center with a bandstand and a large bell in the center. Johnson is the street with the library, an old domed building that looks more like a church.

I didn't get out. I made the loop of one-way roads and ended up with the setting sun on my right, where the last powerful beams of light were barely blocked by my visor. They say others will drive to the carnival like it's the most normal thing in the world. If you just go, you just go. There's a decrepit gas station on the edge of town. Some of those with success at the circus say you must stop there and buy something. Others say you don't.

Acting on the side of Better Safe Than Sorry, I convinced myself that I needed caffeine, and a cola would be smart, as if I wasn't already feeling on tenter hooks. I went in and the place was small from the days where cigarettes and sunflower seeds were the only things to sell the motorists. There was only one case of drinks in the back where I grabbed a bottle and walked up to an older lady with a messy bun to pay.

Gas? No, headed to the carnival. She looked at me with a raised eyebrow. Used to go as a kid. Change my life, seeing some of that stuff. Always good for the children. She gave me a gapy smile from which I looked away at the Marlboro Clock, reminding me I was old enough and then some to smoke.

There were things that had to be done before the show. at seven. She rang me up and I paid with cash, which felt strange. If you pass an old broken-down neon sign for baby dolls, you're on the right track. Some say the sign flickers where you can see some ladies in the parking lot. Others say it's all closed up. Those with better luck say it's lit up. It was, partially. Only the word baby flickered a little. You're supposed to keep going to a fork in the road and go left. I crawled that night, driving. The place was dark and I didn't want to go fast enough to do any damage. Left me with time to wonder about things.

Why the ritual? Why a list of things to do? Why the fuck? A pound slice of pinconning cheese. They say the fair will be obvious. They were right. The field of the farm had a thin wall of trees around it that did nothing to hide the lights. Carnival rides and games around a giant tent glowed like candle flames, bright in the

celestial darkness. The ritual says to park farthest from the entrance. The parking area was plenty full, but I had no trouble finding a spot in a shadowy corner. It was a small hike up and Izzy was heavy. I was just glad he stayed drowsy despite waking up. The instructions say I need to walk three circles around the carousel, so I navigated the crowds, which were thicker than I expected. This carnival differed from ones I'd been to before, even aside from the

reason I was there. The atmosphere was electric, and everyone seemed to enjoy the rides and games like there was no reason to suspect it of anything. The booths were old-timey canvas, and the rides weren't flashy like modern traveling carnivals. Draped strings of incandescent bulbs gave off warm heat in the crisp air. I found the carousel towards the middle in front of the blue and white center tent. It was a big carousel, spinning fast. During the three-loop counter-clockwise trudge, I looked at the details. It was Wild West-themed, with details that looked like bits of wooden cigar Indians nailed on, like a grumpy old man who didn't care about feelings or what we now consider politically correct.

Like an old-timer with arthritis, when a cycle would begin, it creeped and croaked like it was a pain to just move. But then it gained speed and kept going and going, like a senile person hitting the gas and, instead of the brakes by mistake. Robert's father did that once. I never felt comfortable around the man before the accident, much less after, right into a pizza buffet, hitting a family headed to a long weekend in Georgia.

Robert, supposedly working endless OT, never had time to take care of his parents. I mowed for them, cooked meals, and set up plates of leftovers ready to microwave, did their laundry. I suppose they were grateful. They might have been, they never told me.

They never told me because almost every sentence from his parents' mouths was a variant of the same question. When will there be a grandchild? After the circling, I needed to buy fried cheese on a stick. There were kiosks everywhere for pretzels, cotton candy, and caramel apples. I saw kids eating ploy and sherbet and everything but goddamn cheese. I flowed counterclockwise across the grounds until I came to the ticket. booth near the entrance, just inside a canvas marquee and flapping flags. Buying tickets at the booth is part of the plan, but it was too early. I needed a fucking fried cheese thing, so I kept roaming around,

hauling drowsy-izzy on my back. Finally, between a scrambler and the spinning strawberries ride, I found a stand selling raclette. There was no line, and pictures of melted cheese on different combinations of food explained what it was. Fried cheese? I asked at the window. A man with a widely virile-looking mustache shaped in many curls and a bearish chest barely contained by his shirt and apron grinned. He was that fat-fit type where you can tell he ate thousands of calories more than the average man and burned much of it off.

Got better things to eat? He pointed to a quarter of a wheel of cheese next to a broiler-looking thing. It's for the kid. The man raised an eyebrow when I, jiggle the dopy child on my shoulders. Friars off for the night. Maybe a trade? From a pocket of my cargo shorts,

I pulled out the pinconning cheese. His ginger mustache twitched. Anything for the children. The oil must have actually been cold because it took forever and a day for it to be ready. The instructions never say if you need to eat it. I didn't feel like it at all, and Izzy didn't seem in the mood.

Like always since Izzy's. had arrived, I never ended up with food I wanted to eat. At least it wasn't the frozen nuggets and tater tots that Izzy only allowed to cross his lips. I looked at my watch. Almost half-past six. I had to finish a few more steps before finding seats for the magic show at seven, so I chucked the glob of cheese into a clown's mouth atop a barrel trash bin and hurried back to the ticket booths at the entrance. Happy that there was no line I walked up. There, the tall, slender, blonde lady, behind the counter, much too pretty for a Carney's life, pursed her lips that melted into a rouge lipstick smile,

raising the beauty mark on her cheek. I know I burned red. Maybe not as hot as her, but I used to be just as thin. I could fit in my high school jeans until Izzy. All my clothes never fit after the pregnancy. How may I help you? She took a sip from a bottle of cherry Coke through a striped paper straw. I need two tickets for the magic shirt.

and a sheet of tickets for the rides. $12. I hear you have a family special, the special for the children? Oh, yes. The corners of her lips raised uncannily. I couldn't tell if she was happy that I said those words, or what?

For the children, that's $33.33. I had planned and made sure I had the exact change. I hardly used kids. cash anymore, so having the coins jingling my pockets had been annoying. I laid down the bills with the coins on top and slid them towards the lady. She reached out for the change and rested her hand on mine, looking at me. It was the look of a parent who can't tell if they trust you, or a teacher who sees potential in you but has concerns, or your high school boyfriend unsure about staying with you after you miss your period and pee on the stick and show them. I pushed the cash towards her and she raised her

hand enough to let me recoil. Her smile never broke. She slid two tickets to the magic show and a wristband for Izzy across to me. Put this on. He can ride whatever he wants. Doesn't expire. I mumbled a thank you. I don't have much money, so scraping that cash together wasn't easy. They say it's still not a guarantee that it will work, but they say the balloon is a very good indicator. Thus, the next step was to buy the kit a balloon, a purple one. I recall. I recall, called seeing a clown selling balloons walking around, and I wanted to see what happened to the balloon before I spent too much time there. Every second of the carnival was pulses of life leaving my body.

I was tired and wired all at once. With Izzy in a vice grip, I walked around, perhaps looking a little manic, searching for the balloon clown. My long stride over the lumpy field was waking up Izzy again. Mommy? Not sure if it was a question or a statement, but I hushed him. "'Shh, we're going to have fun tonight. "'How about a balloon?

"'A nice purple balloon. "'You need a balloon.' "'I spotted the floating mountain of balloons, "'peaking over a game of floating ducks. "'I scurried around and found the clown. "'Hey, Mr. Clown? "'Well, call me jiggles. "'Looking for a balloon?

"'Toy balloons are always good for the children. "'That'll be a dollar, please.' "'There was an unpleasant jingle of bells as he reached his handout for the money. I paid with quarters, and the clown didn't seem to appreciate coins. A purple balloon, please? Jiggles looked around at the rubber cloud and reached through the strings, pulling out a balloon I didn't even see there.

Uh-huh, the last one. I set Izzy down, and he wobbled with sea legs that Mr. Jiggles found amusing enough to widen his grease paint smile. Here you go, Mr. Izzyer. We call him Izzy for short. Clown looked awfully judgy for a guy with the name Jiggles. But it's true, it's a fucking shitty name.

It's a family name from Robert's side, a name I didn't want to curse on any child, a name I fought against, but I lost. I thought about tying the balloon around Izzy's wrist, but I didn't want to mess up the process. I said thank you. to the clown and tried to squeeze one more thing in before the magic show. The fun house was tall and easy to find.

From the outside, you could see the classic spinning tunnel, moving steps, and mirror maze. Out front, there was a thin but swall man with long glistening hair and a thick beard matching the swarthiness of chest hair protruding from a half-buttoned up shirt beneath his vest. taken aback by the beautiful man. I realized the carnival seemed to hire attractive, youthful people. Nothing like what the word carny would conjure up in one's mind. The man smiled and waved the steps up to the cotton candy pink and lemonade yellow attraction. Only four tickets to take on the Mr. Cheer Bomb's Challenge House.

I pointed to the wristband on Izzy and the ride barker's smile creeped wider. Ah, I see. If you don't have tickets, he can go alone. Don't worry. It's safe and fun, especially for the children. Izzy, never complaining or questioning, climbed up the steps that led to a spinning tunnel that the drowsy boy did not handle well. Just on the other side, I saw him struggle with a floor of spinning discs, then disappear into a dark corridor, balloon bopping behind him on the string. For a moment, there was a rock in my gut when he first went out of sight, but then I realized how silly it was. Izzy then popped out on the other end and climbed trick stairs that shifted under his feet at alternating directions. He stumbled like a drunk man. That last night, last fucking night, Robert was shit-faced.

So was I, I get it. I would rather drink away money at the bar instead of coming home to hear the bullshit tantrums of Izzy. Finding a coping mechanism was understandable. I drank two, but at least he was at home. He wanted the kid, or rather his parents wanted him to want the kid, so he wanted to keep the kid. Looking down at the man, crawling up the steps with a shirt half open from ripped off buttons

and khakis covered in stains, and a wet spot on his crotch. Regrets, bubbled up in my throat, like sick from drinking too much. He's a messy pisser, probably found a bush along the way home. I pissed my life away. I looked down at him. I stared, waiting for him to see my eyes.

He looked up and on his mouth were smears of lipstick. Hey, honey, you've gained some fat. Is there another girl? I felt old-fashioned and cliche with my arms crossed like a sitcom wife. No, no, no. Just me and my boys. He swiped his arm across his mouth. Out from his bedroom, Izzy stood behind me and looked at Robert. Daddy!

Izzy worked his way down the stairs and clung to his father's legs. I caved. He wanted to stay up until you got home. Three in the fucking morning, Ashley, what the hell? I couldn't tell if it's me you're avoiding or Izzy, so I wanted to see which pisses you off more when you got home. Fuck, ass. I don't know. He trailed off.

I could see on his face that he wasn't sure what to say. Both. I was avoiding both of you. You've changed since, Izzy. You're always tired. You don't take care of yourself. Never put out anymore. And Izzy's a little shit.

I looked at Izzy to see if he would start a tantrum. He was oblivious. It must have been a rare time when he had nothing to demand. Fuck this. This isn't what I signed up for. Robert crawled down the steps and across the floor to the door, and then right out of my life. Now, I watched Izzy make it to the top of the stairs,

where he wormed his way through what looked like a bunch of spinning punching bags, and then disappeared into a tunnel where I could see colorful lights emanating. There was a pop. They say that's good. It mostly works for those whose balloon pops. Izzy reappe appeared at the bottom of a blue spinolea. spiral slide. There were angry shouts and words that sounded like a swearing sailor when he showed me his string with the blob of flaccid rubber on the end. He was wide awake now and I braced myself for a

massive tantrum. He screamed loud enough it pierced the noises of the carnival and several judging adults looked our way. I tried to hush and distract him by telling him about the magic show that was about to start. I didn't pick him up because he would kick and punt. but instead dragged him by his hand to the large blue and white tent. I gave the tickets to a short and punchy man with a bun of thick hair at inconsiderable height. I see he has the band. You can sit in the front row. It's reserved.

It's the best view for the children. We found our seats on cold metal benches, and there was a small wood platform in front of us. Izzy wouldn't sit still and was loud. tossing questions my way that I didn't acknowledge. With little warning, the lights went out and a whiny soundtrack played from a busted speaker. Izzy settled when the lights popped on to reveal

that traditional top-hatted, caped, cliché magician entranced. The first portion of the show was mindless and fun. The tall, slender magician tried to mix in jokes, and while the magic tricks were decent, the jokes were not. The instructions are clear. If things were going well, he should pick Izzy to be a volunteer. The magician, rallying the audience with warbly dramatic music and a spotlight across the front row, spotted Izzy and pulled him up.

To prove my abilities, I shall make this child disappear. Nothing gets by, kids, so you know this trick is real. I held my breath. This wasn't right, was it? Disappear. I forced a smile at Izzy as he managed the steps up to the stage. The magician directed Izzy to wait on a spot and he pulled out a very plain, tall box. The magician, loosely in sync with the sad soundtrack, opened a door on the front, then back of the box to reveal no hidden walls. He closed the door on the backside of the cabinet and then held Izzy's hand to direct him into the box. Magic works best in silence. Look at Mom! Look it! Look at Mom!

Mom! Izzy's sharp scream was interrupted by the magician closing the cabinet door. He walked around it, tapped it three times with a white-tipped black wand, and opened the cabinet to show that it was empty. Don't worry, ma'am. You can pick him up at lost and found after the show. The small but engrossed audience was sold on the feet and applauded with mild laughter. The magician bowed out and the houselights came on.

Before a mother could panic, the lady working the spotlight and sound off to the side beckoned me to follow her to get Izzy. You never know how a parent is going to react when they see their kid disappear. Glad you were in good spirits about it. She was wearing corduroy overalls over a loose cotton shirt that hid no part of her breasts. She was pale but in the milky, snow-white, healthy-looking way. The kids don't get scared. It's usually so exciting for them. Something special like this is good for children.

We meandered around the curtain, held up by pipes, to an empty area. Izzy was sitting there, legs crossed and with a face where I couldn't tell if he was amused and appreciating the moment, or if he was about to complain about something mundane like he does. Doesn't matter. Does not matter. Let's go. I want to take you to another ride. I told him, I told myself, one step left. The instructions are explicit.

I didn't remember seeing where the mirror maze was, so I assumed it would be in the corner of the fairgrounds that we hadn't roamed around, and I was right. There, made of several trailers put together, was a facade of a mix of cultures, lit by both realistic fake candles and the vibrancy of black-light neon colors. The area around the attraction was lifeless,

with few fairgoers around in that dark patch of open field. There were no food stands or games, just lots of grass. It was like the mirror maze was hiding, or at least antisocial and cantankerous, feeling much older than the rest of the carnival. Like, it's a small world, created by a stoner, it was offensive, even if I had. couldn't tell you why. Izzy was quiet, perhaps having some instinctive sense of the dark situation.

There was no protest from him as I held his hand and walked up to the attendant outside. He was older than all the other carnies there, but still not old, old. With a graying razor-sharp haircut, he wore a red shirt that glowed under the black light and a red vest that did not. He smiled as I walked up and his teeth looked unnaturally white and straight like cheap veneers. Welcome to the Tofit International maze of mirrors. I see you've got the band for the kid. It's great for children. Even better for the family.

You both should go in. He pointed his long, slender arm in the loose glowing red sleeves towards the steps. and wiggled his fingers with an open palm towards an ancient-looking temple. We proceeded up the white wooden steps, and inside, through a blue curtain, was a vignette. Taken aback by the detail, I paused a moment at a fake fountain in the middle of a garden scene. Columns and ivy formed arches and hid angles that disoriented me. The colors, morphed by unnatural blue hues of light, created monstrous shadows on the white temple structures. We looped around the fountain lit by pulsing lights, and somehow a chamber unfolded before us, impossibly deep.

Looking straight ahead, I only saw reflections of myself and Izzy. Just around certain columns in the endless rows, I could tell there was a statue of a peacock reflected from somewhere. I followed the silent boy as he moved around, unsure and slow. Frustrated with his pace, I prodded him with the promise of ice cream afterwards to hurry him up. After one turn, he began a charge towards a distant-looking scene of a temple on a hillside and crashed into the most invisible pane of glass. He started crying, and I walked over and tapped him with the toe of my shoe to get up and follow. Any other time, I perhaps would have laughed at him and the smear he left on the glass.

With no patience, I felt around for glass. Finding a stone wall and seeing that it led back to another section of the maze, I pushed Izzy forward. He led the way around a corner, then another, and both of us screamed when a minotaur figure lit up from inside a hole in the wall and growled. Izzy didn't stop screaming, but I laughed. Just past the stone walls, the scenery changed into an Asian look. Cherry blossom branches arched overhead,

and there were steps that led up to a scaled-down temple. There was a plaque that I glanced over, telling me that mirrors play some role in Shintoism. Just inside the temple door was a large mirror, and when I felt the platform under my foot shift to trigger a light, the reflection of myself and Izzy faded into a lit mannequin behind the glass. It looked cheap, super cheap compared to the decent Minotaur. It was a leftover department store figure painted with a kabuki pattern and a tragic, plastic-looking wig. The outfit was just a bunch of things that looked sort of Japanese and sort of dramatic. I shivered because the lifeless thing looked ready to attack.

The next section was Aztec, according to the dimly lit sign. Jungle vines hid mirrors and glass like before, but red, blue, and green lights barely lit the space, making it far more challenging. I kept encouraging Izzy to go on, but he still turned back to me often with a wrinkled face, one I had seen little of before, distressed and fearful,

not just angry like most of his crying. He would turn to me and reach up with his arms to show that I should carry him. I didn't. I would prompt him to keep going. We were at the entrance to a diagram of a temple altar. I was weary of more triggered effects, but despite expecting things to happen, things happening startled us both.

Thunder crashed and strobing lights, replicating lightning, gave the illusion of some mannequins off to the side somewhere, reflecting as to appear in the scene. A young, genderless child was laid down on the altar, and the jiggly arms of a man holding a knife overhead lowered to the child as to stab him. The room blinked off to black, then red light, and off again. Lit ahead was yet another goddamn section of the maze. It looked smaller and octagonal.

A sign read Alhambra, and told of an ancient Middle Eastern sultan who locked prisoners in a room of mirrors, with bright yellow floors and ceilings to drive them mad. Sure enough, as we pass through, mirrors all around seemed to show an infinite number of Izzy's and myself. I looked at myself because I had to. It was a room of truth, and I could not avoid seeing my furrowed brows, flat tire waist, and disheveled hair. I looked how I felt, out of control.

Izzy looked like Izzy. I was not happy there. The last room wasn't much of a mate. at that point. It looked old-fashioned, lit by real candles. Striped walls glowed under the amber light and displayed the classic warped mirrors. The space drew in Izzy, and he ran from mirror to mirror. Relieved of dragging him along, I moved around the room, gazing at alternate realities of myself. Stretched, squashed, rippled, couldn't help but smile. I liked these changes, these versions of myself that were not myself right now. I heard some rare giggles from Izzy, who I could tell in the

corner of my eye was running from one thing to the next. He called me over to a pane of glass with strips of silver. He stood on the opposite side, and I could see parts of me reflected with strips of him. If I shifted a little, I disappeared. If he shifted, so would he. Before I could reflect on the moment, Izzy turned and ran down a dark corridor. Unure if I was a little. I wanted to let him go, I chased after. The hallway was black, with glow-in-the-dark spots and lines that flashed and pulsed in blacklight radiation. The walls tilted and shrunk around me as I took corner after corner. I would swear I heard his footfall just ahead, and giggles warped as if he was just around the corner.

The shapes morphed into stars, then into detailed circles and strange symbols, pulsing to a strange techno-track with chance. I made another turn, and the shapes were painted as if they were transforming to a skyline of buildings from around the world, terminating at a black curtain. I could hear the carousel organ just outside and knew the journey had ended. I held my breath. Had the instructions worked? My heart thrumbed in undulating hope and regret, like riding a scary ride. I lifted the curtain, and the wooden steps below led to no one but the bruntletting. Barker Man out front. Down the steps, I squinted my eyes, straining to see if Izzy was playing hide-and-seek in the

shadows. Kind of a dead corner of the carnival. Isn't it? We're the only one's here. I looked back at the Barker. I could not avoid thinking how young the people who worked there looked. Young and handsome. His gray hairs had vanished.

His skin tighter, his mussel. The vessel's firmer, filling his bright red shirt and vest. The maze just gets enough visitors to keep it going. It's so good for the children. Good for the parents. Good for us, too. I swallowed the sweet and earthy air. The mirror maze barker smiled.

He looked happy for me. So many things to see and do. What's next? for you. I hesitated. I didn't know what I was going to do. Not going back for sure. I burned those bridges.

Are you hiring? I asked. With no unwanted child, I would like to be younger again. Off to be a carny. Not aspiring too high now, are you? Come back in a year. Live a life. We always come this time to St. Montana.

His smile still genuine. He waved me off as I turned around and skipped to the carousel music, back to my car. Sleepless tales have dispersed this night. Poetic works from darkness alight. We leave you with this a question on a theme. Is all that we see or seem but a dream within a dream. The no sleep part.

is presented by Creative Reason Media. The musical score was composed by Brandon Boone. Our production team is Phil Michalski, Jeff Clement, and Jesse Cornett. Our creative content manager is Ollie White. Our editor-in-chief is Jessica McAvoy. Please visit the nosleeppodcast.com for show notes and more details about the people who bring you this show. On behalf of everyone at the No Sleep Podcast, we thank you for being a supportive season past member and for joining us within the exquisite horror of our reality.

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