The NoSleep Podcast - S20 Ep11: NoSleep Podcast S20E11

Episode Date: December 17, 2023

It’s Episode 11 of Season 20. Come join us around the campfire for tales about sinister spirits. “Be Nimble” written by Sterling Ingram (Story starts around 00:03:00) Produced by: Jeff Clement Cast: Narrator – Peter Lewis, Jack – Reagen Tacker, Taller Brother – Graham Rowat, Shorter Brother – Atticus Jackson, Voice – Nikolle Doolin “The Light of Day” written by Hannah P. Simmons (Story starts around 00:21:20) Produced by: Phil Michalski Cast: Annie – Sarah Ruth Thomas, Noah – Dan Zappulla “The Kindness of Others” written by Marissa Yarrow (Story starts around 00:31:00) TRIGGER WARNING! Produced by: Jesse Cornett Cast: Narrator – Mary Murphy, Peg – Marie Westbrook, Mike – Jeff Clement, Paul – Matthew Bradford, Debbie – Nichole Goodnight, Gladys – Danielle McRae, Voice – Kristen DiMercurio, Dad – Graham Rowat, Mom – Nikolle Doolin “Bomber’s Paradise” written by John Beardify (Story starts around 01:11:50) TRIGGER WARNING! Produced by: Phil Michalski Cast: Narrator – Mike DelGaudio, Viktor – Elie Hirschman “Gods of Summer” written by E.E. King (Story starts around 01:24:15) TRIGGER WARNING! Produced & scored by: David Cummings Cast: Narrator – Erin Lillis, Kate – Linsay Rousseau, Michael – Kyle Akers, Tom – Dan Zappulla, Father – Atticus Jackson, Mother – Kristen DiMercurio “An Afternoon with Anna” written by Jules Rowlen (Story starts around 01:44:00) TRIGGER WARNING! Produced by: Phil Michalski Cast: Mary – Jessica McEvoy, Trevor – Jeff Clement, Brenna – Danielle McRae, Kyle – Matthew Bradford, Katie – Nichole Goodnight, Kenny – Elie Hirschman This episode is sponsored by: ZocDoc – Zocdoc is a free app that shows you doctors who are patient-reviewed, take your insurance, and are available when you need them. Go to Zocdoc.com/nosleep and download the Zocdoc app for free. Then start your search for a top-rated doctor today. ShipStation – ShipStation makes it super easy to manage and ship all your online orders faster, cheaper and more efficiently. Let Shipstation make the busy holiday shopping season goes smoothly for you. Go to shipstation.com and click the microphone icon at the top of the page. Enter code NOSLEEP to get a 60-day free trial. Click here to learn more about The NoSleep Podcast team Executive Producer & Host: David Cummings Musical score composed by: Brandon Boone “Be Nimble” illustration courtesy of Jen Tracy Audio 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.

From our earliest days, we've gathered around the fire for warmth and comfort. But beyond the light of the dying embers, there is the darkness. And it's in the darkness of the night where we find ourselves, waiting, yearning for the dawn to banish our fears. But our campfire holds more than fireless. for with us you will hear the tales that make the nightmares engulf you and you dare not close your eyes brace yourself for the no sleep podcast welcome to the no sleep podcast i'm your host david cummings with christmas fast approaching there's a good chance you've been watching some festive holiday movies recently. And yes, while we're all rabidly consuming Hallmark Christmas movies,

I'll bet some of you have seen a movie version of the classic Dickens tale, A Christmas Carol. And I'm sure we're all familiar with the scene where Marley's ghost tells Scrooge how he can be redeemed with the help of three visitors. Here's a short clip from, in my opinion, the best film version of a Christmas Carol. My time is nearly gone. I come tonight to warn you that you have yet a chance and hope of escaping my fate, a chance and hope of my procuring Ebeneas. Thank you, Jacob. You were always a good friend of mine. You will be visited by three spirits. What? Was that the chance of hope that you mentioned, Jacob?

It was. Well, in that case, never mind. I think I'd rather not. Yes, Scrooge wasn't too keen on being visited by spirits. And while Scrooge ended up being redeemed by those ghosts, here in no sleepland, the idea of spirits visiting you, or vice versa, usually doesn't mean an ending as happy as Scrooge's. And on this episode, we embrace the notion of spirits and ghosts and share tales in which people find themselves encountering these spectral spirits

and how the results are anything but festive. And now, the sun has set, the fire glows bright. Brace yourself for the darkness of the night. In our first tale, we meet some gentlemen who are encountering their own kind of spirits, the ones enjoyed at a bar. And as the night descends into drunkenness, bravado, and dares take hold. But in this tale, shared with us by author Sterling, Ingram. One of the men, a newcomer to town, finds himself sure of winning a bet,

a bat involving a creepy old house. Performing this tale are Peter Lewis, Reagan Tacker, Graham Rowett, Atticus Jackson, and Nicole Doolin. So when it comes to using a candle, be like Jack, and make sure you be nimble. House with boarded windows. How it came to be abandoned was little remembered but widely speculated. The face of the home bore scars of flames long since consumed, the door dark with soot. But it wasn't the fire that left it abandoned. Behind the charred door, the grand foyer lay riddled with signs of vermin,

rat droppings, cobwebs, and wood dust. But it wasn't the infestation that left it abandoned. Beyond the foyer stood the master staircase, blood staining the landing. But it wasn't the murder that left it abandoned. The winding staircase grasped pitifully at the top floor where the dark hall ended in a shrouded room. This room bore the blame the reason the manor was abandoned. Abandoned, but not vacant. Jack stood under the moonless sky, jittery at the threshold of the dark door.

His mouth chapped, dry, breath heavy with the scent of bootleg whiskey. He turned away from the house to gaze at his new friends. A pair of brothers who had taken young Jack under their collective wing when he stumbled into town a night previous. The town twinkled a half a mile away, ramshackle buildings, huddled. together against the night. The doorstep of every home was lit by a single candle, making the town flicker like a cowering child in the dark. Don't see what's all the fuss about. Jack drawled, trying to keep the anxiety from his voice. Isn't nothing but a spooky heap on a hill?

The boys had been riotously drinking since early that evening. Friendly competition turned sour when Jack boasted that he didn't give a spit about nonsense traditions. A few strong shots and a wager had Jack standing where he shouldn't. Expect it's as empty as your heads. Full of nothing. The taller brother held a lit candle in front of him, his fist white with strain. Listen, Jack, you don't have to do this. Ain't right to be here on a night like this. Why to come back behind the candle and we can head back to the tavern.

Forget all about this nonsense. Shut it. I ain't afraid of the dark. Won't take but a couple of minutes to prove you both fools. Jack sauntered forward with a confidence. He didn't quite feel. Wait, remember what we told you. The shorter brother grabbed Jack by the shoulder. It's blacker in hell in there.

You'll need this. A boy pulled a candle stick from a sack on his shoulder, then produced a match from his shirt pocket. In a moment, a second candle flickered in the darkness. It won't cross an open flame. Doesn't like the light. Keep quiet and leave the candle in front of its room so we know you did it. Sure you ain't got any second thoughts?

Jack paused, staring at the dancing flame. Like I told you, I ain't scared. He glared coldly at the brothers. No coming in after to try and spook me, or I'll thump you both good. He cracked his knuckles and took the candle without a word of thanks. The brothers looked at each other nervously. No need worry about that. Rather shake hands with the devil himself than go in there.

We'll stay put. Keep a candle burning in the doorway. left for when you return. Ladies, next time I'll be seeing you, y'all both owe me two-piece. Then Jack turned and stumbled to the soot-stained door, pushing it open with a loud creak. With one haughty glance back,

he passed the threshold into the foyer. The shorter brother made the sign of the cross and set a candlestick on the doorway before backing a safe distance away. The light, flickered feebly against Jack's back as he headed to the stairway. The last wisps of Jack's confidence failed him as he reached the first step of the long staircase. It climbed up a floor and into the darkness beyond. The foyer reeked of decay. It could be tasted, sickly sweet in the

dusty air. It could be heard in the groaning of the floors or the scuttle of a roach. It could be seen darting in the shadow, rats scampering frantically away from the light, and it could be felt like an unexpected chill on a hot night. Jack shuddered and realized he was holding his breath. He exhaled, and more to the credit of whiskey than wit, he climbed up the staircase into the bowels of the home. Jack's little candle created a small world around him, blinding him to anything more than a few paces away.

He focused on keeping his feet beneath him as he climbed past the landing and further up. With every step, the air around him grew a little colder, his breaths heavier. Past the second floor, the staircase turned on itself, leading to a third floor, hallways stretching endlessly on both sides into the dark. The final staircase narrowed as it ascended into the blackness, and just as his foot reached the first step, he heard a sigh. Seven hills. Jack wheeled around, eyes wide in the dark.

The sound had come from behind him. Or was it above him? He stood immobile, ears strained, he heard it again. Not a voice, but the sound of the wind passing through the boarded windows. Just the wind. Ain't nothing except your head getting the better of you. Wits gathered, he continued his climb. Perhaps if he had been less drunk, he would have remembered it was a windless night. At the top of the stairs stretched a narrow hallway. The balls were tight. just a few inches from either shoulder for him to pass through.

Yet the ceiling was so high and peaked that his light didn't reach the top. Jack angled his shoulders unwilling to touch the walls as he made his way forward. The air turned dry and cold. Jack found himself, shivering as he approached the room he knew was waiting at the end of the hall. The doorless frame exposed a many. room, making Jack's hair stand on his arms. There was no sound, save the hurried beat of his own heart and the gentle hiss of the burning candle. He gingerly set the candle in the doorway and turned to make his way back to the staircase. Behind him, the floor creaked, and something rustled deep

within the room. Jack froze. His heart cried for him to run. but something called to him. He turned to face the room once more, a bead of sweat forming on his brow. Hello? Although he couldn't see beyond the candlelight, he knew it was watching him, and he knew, if not for that candle,

it would be with him now. He edged back from the door, away from that piercing, unseen gaze. The candle grew dimmer. He took a step back. The flame flickered. He steadied himself against a wall. The flame died. Perkinsa voice replied sweetly. Hello, Jack. Jack turned and fled. Down the narrow stairs, Jack flew, tumbling more than running, desperate to get away from that voice. A sickly sickly, Scraping noise followed him steadily, unyielding as it moved down the hall behind him. Distracted and blind, Jack slammed into the second landing and tumbled wildly onto his hands and ease.

The voice purred, moving ever closer through the darkness. Jack be nimble. Jack groaned, clawing frantically in the darkness, searching for the stairs. The scraping grew louder. His hands found the top of the stairs, and he climbed painfully to his feet. His mind screamed for him to run,

but terror turned his legs to jelly. It was all he could do to keep moving, shambling slowly down the stairs towards the foyer. The scraping moved faster. Jack, be quick. The voice was just, breaths behind him. Oh!

Jack stifled a small cry, praying in earnest for the first time in his life. He knew it couldn't be far, just a few more steps, and there, he could see the light of the candle just past the foyer. The scraping was

beside him now, with the ferocity of a caged animal Jack, jumped the last steps, landing loudly, and sprinted across the hall. fixed on the candle. The scraping stopped. But Jack knew...

He felt something grab at the back of his shirt. Jack! The voice was with him, calling him back. Tearing his body away, Jack jumped over the candlestick. Two brothers stood dumbfounded as Jack came lumbering out of the darkness and over the candle. He landed in a heap. on the porch and shambled away from the door. His hands tore at an invisible assailant,

eyes wild in the flickering light. After a long moment, he seemed to come to his senses and climbed unsteadily to his feet. Damn, you both to hell. I don't know what trick you rigged up in there, but it didn't stop me none. Best pay up now or I'll beat it out of you.

Jack's voice was confident now that the flame was beyond. behind him. Don't just stand there. Pay up. What the hell's you looking at? Jack followed the brother's gaze to his feet. The candlestick from the doorway, knocked loose by Jack's landing, rolled to a stop at his boot.

It flickered and then guttered out. When the last light goes out on a dark night, it's impossible to see anything but phantom shapes. cast against the black. But what the brothers couldn't see, they felt and hungry for companionship. It came for Jack. They heard him scream first,

then beg, please. Whimper, as he was pulled back through the black door into the foyer, the thump, thump, thump of a man dragged against his will up the stairs, until all that was left,

was the wild beating of their hearts against their chest. They ran without a single backward glance, as it always does. Word spread that Jack had left at some point in the night. Where Jack had gone was little known, but widely speculated. Yet, despite the differing reasons the townsfolk gave, when they spoke of Jack. Their eyes flickered for a moment to the house on the hill. Around noon, the next day, when the sun was highest in the sky, the brothers returned to the house. The taller brother stepped quickly past the black door

and retrieved a bundle waiting for them. It contained a shirt, a pair of boots and trousers, a heavy purse, and two candy. He closed the door behind him and hurried away from the home he used to know. Jack's possessions couldn't be sold right away, but once folk forgot they would fetch a nice price. That was too close. Next time we cut the wick shorter. The taller brother thumbed the now wickless candle Jack had carried last night. Expect a little more whiskey won't hurt.

heard either. As the brothers nervously made their way back towards town, the house groaned with discontent. Impatiently awaiting its next candlebearer.

I'm sure you know how much we love the darkness of the night around here. The dark shadows where evil lurks. Makes for some fun horror, right? Well, in this tale, shared with us by author Hannah P. Simmons.

We meet a couple who aren't having much fun because in their world, evil does indeed lurk in the dark shadows, so they'd better make sure they stay in the light. Performing this tale are Sarah Thomas and Dan Zapula. So make sure your days are sunny and bright, because you won't be safe until you're illuminated by the light of day. Three rules if you want to live. One, you sleep at dawn and rise.

at dusk. Two, if the thing finds you, don't hide. Run. There will be enough light somewhere. Three, you can't save no one except yourself. That's what I figured out so far. That's what's been keeping me and Noah alive. There weren't many people in Pressvern to begin with. Maybe a couple hundred. The thing made quick work of whittling that down. It hit the hospital first. Wasn't like any anyone in there could really get away. The police thought it was some cult. Everyone had three big holes in their chest. By the time someone saw the thing, it was too late.

There were only maybe 50 of us left, but at least we knew. My family didn't make it. They couldn't run fast enough. Daddy always said, Can't nothing catch Annie. He was right. It's because I never look back. You can hear the thing.

coming, bones snapping, teeth grinding, breath choking away. That's when you start running for light. But if you look back, that's all it needs. You slow down that one little second because you just have to see it. And it's the last thing you see. I'm so tired, Annie. Noah's always whining about wanting to sleep. I can't really be mad at him. Not till you see the light of day, I remind him. Can't nothing get you then? He frowns and leans back against the wall of our place. It's a room above the hardware store. It's pretty empty.

There's two beds and wires. They power the bulbs. I've rigged every circuit I could with bulbs so there isn't a shadow in the whole room. Noah reaches a hand inside the box and fiddles with the spares, clinking the glass just a bit. Don't you break those? He pulls his hand away quickly, and I see tears start to well.

in his eyes. You were so brave helping me get them. That does the trick. He smiles and blinks back the tears. We did good, didn't we, Annie? Yeah, real good. We'd been hunting spare bulbs the whole week. If even one light went out, there was a bit of dark, and that was all the thing needed. Just a little bit of dark. We'd cleared out most of the bulbs left in the stores around town, and finally had to start breaking into the houses. Most of them stank. Bodies and mold will do that. I don't know death had its own smell before the thing showed up. Made me understand why the animals can tell. They can smell better than we can. They can smell death coming. I usually made Noah wait outside the house, but he wanted to come in with me the last time. We found plenty of bulbs in the kitchen cabinet.

We also found Mr. Hamel stretched across the floor. Flies were swarming in and out of the three holes that went through his middle. Noah stared and stared. I wasn't sure if he'd ever seen anyone the thing had killed before. I wasn't sure about a lot of things when it came to Noah. We had found each other in the school gym. For a while, everyone tried to live there together. They thought it might be safer.

They thought wrong. Fights broke out real quick over batteries and candles. Soon the people were killing each other off before the thing could even reach them. But no end I stuck together. Or he stuck to me for some reason. We took care of each other. Look how big they are! Yeah.

He never had a chance. Asad, going back to putting the bulbs into our box. I didn't like him anyway. He was bad to you. Mr. Hamel had been my chemistry teacher. There was a streak of mean in him that he didn't. rightly have any reason for. He was one of the last to make it, though. Me and Noah had seen him two days before. I offered some food in exchange for bulbs. He cussed me out, and I ended up with the

bulbs anyway. Noah's head bulbs again and hits the wall hard. Go ahead and get in bed. He perks up just a bit. You mean it? Yeah, it's almost daylight anyway. I will stay awake. Promise? You won't let the bulbs go out? Promise. He jumps up and climbs into his bed, snuggling undercovers that haven't been washed in weeks. But that doesn't really matter since we haven't been washed either. His head hits the pillow, and he starts breathing, deep and even. I watch his chest rise and fall for almost an hour. That's when the bull flickers, the one in the corner, just over his bed. It had been threatening to go out for a while now. While it's flickering, I go over to the spare box and we're wrap my hands around a replacement. I can tell the light has gone out before I turn around.

I can hear the thing before I turn around too. There's enough light on me. I know I'm safe, but Noah isn't. So I finally look. It's so tall its head hits the ceiling and thin. No eyes, only deep black holes and three sharp fingers longer than my arm. I stand there. with the bulb in my hand, unable to move. Noah stirs in the bed, rolling onto his back. He yawns, his mouth open and wide, and I watch the thing disappear straight into Noah, like water swirling down a drain.

It vanishes into him as he rolls back onto his side. His face turned towards me. He opens a single eye, but there is no eye, just one of those deep black holes. He smiles at me as the sun starts breaking over the horizon. And behind that smile, I see the thing. I love you, Annie. If you live in a house for a long time, you get used to its quirks.

Squeaky floors, windows that stick, that sort of thing. But in this tale, shared with us by author Marissa Yarrow, we meet a young woman who finds her house being quite a bit more quirky, thanks to discovering the people who want to continue living there. Performing this tale are Mary Murphy, Marie Westbrook, Jeff Clement, Matthew Bradford, Nicole Goodnight, Danielle McCray, Kristen DiMakirio, Graham Rowett, and Nicole Doolin. So enjoy the company while you can, and always try to rely on the kindness of others. Don't be afraid. to tell you something and it's important that you really listen. I've lived in this house my entire

life, just like you have. I know every inch of it, from creaky front porch steps to the worn patterns and the wood floors, to the way the screen door squeaks when you open it, but not if you don't open it all the way. Like you, I used to run around the house at night when my parents were asleep. I'd listen to make sure I could hear my father's snoring, and then I'd tiptoed down the hall, and I'd walk close to the wall on the staircase to keep the steps from making noise. I even knew that I had to step all the way over the third stair from the bottom, unless I wanted my mother to hear and wake my father, and to have him think there was someone in the house. I knew they would be able to hear any sound in the house, because when I was your age, I heard noises,

At first, I thought that an animal had gotten in, which also explained why cabinets were open and the furniture had been moved around. I figured it must have been something small enough to fit through a narrow opening, like a vent or a partially opened window, but large enough to reach the cupboard handles and rearrange the decor. A cat maybe or a raccoon. And I hated raccoons. I always saw them running away from my neighbor's trash cans after they'd crawled inside and filled themselves up with rotting garbage until they were too fat to climb out and sent the metal can crashing to the ground,

waking up half the neighborhood and scaring themselves in the process. Most of the time, I only ever saw their ringed tails as they barrel down the street and into the nearest gutter like the cowardly oversized trash robbers they were. Once, though, there was a raccoon that was stupid enough, or brave enough, I don't know, to stay completely still after they toppled over one of the cans. I looked out the window and saw them sitting among the beer bottles

and soiled diapers of my neighbor's trash. The raccoon turned its head, and I swear it saw me looking. It just stared right back with those beady, soulless eyes. It was challenging me to come out and stop it from rifling through the wet mass of putrid produce and newspapers. Its paws dug through the garbage indiscriminately, looking for God knows what, and it only bolted when my neighbor finally came out and shouted at it. Those dirty, filthy, stinking rodents could have been, been getting into my house at night and touching all of our furniture with the same claws that

they used to carry away chicken bones and moldy vegetables. I was revolted. My parents didn't seem to think much of it and ignored me when I brought it up. They hadn't heard the noises, and I'd been stupid enough to close all the curtains and the cupboards and throw out the boxes of food that it'd fall into the floor during the nightly raids, instead of showing them first. But I couldn't stand to let it go on a single night longer. There was no way I was just going to allow a filthy raccoon to keep coming into my house. The night that I planned to catch the animal in the act, I told my parents that I wanted to finish a book that I was reading for class,

and then I'd go to bed. They went upstairs around 10 p.m. And when I knew they were asleep, I shut off the lights in the living room and waited in one of the armchairs. I didn't think I would have to wait long until whatever animal was breaking in and helping itself to our food revealed how it was getting into the house. But for hours, nothing happened. Eventually, I must have fallen asleep because I woke up sitting upright in the armchair. when music started playing from my father's office. Loud music.

I couldn't understand how it didn't wake my parents. I thought that the animals had maybe gotten in through the window in there and had done something to turn on the record player. But when I stepped into the room, it was like I was entering a dream. The music was blasting. The lights were all on. There were two men in suits with short hair And three women in buttoned-down shirts and modest skirts

With perfectly quaffed curls, drinking and laughing, Like they were having the time of their lives. My father's desk was gone, And instead the room was filled with stiff-looking chairs And an old-looking TV. It was like I walked in on a 1950s-themed party. For a while, I thought I really must be dreaming, except that my neck hurt way too much from the position I'd been sleeping in the chair, and everything was far too vivid. Eventually, a woman in the center of the room glanced away from the conversation she was having with the men and looked directly at me.

She had red hair curled and pinned in perfect rolls and wore a white blouse with green slacks. Nothing on her appeared out of place. And when her green eyes met mine, I could even tell they were green from that far away. I was calmed, and I almost completely forgot about the raccoons. I was at a party now. Her party, as if she'd been waiting for me, she walked over and hugged me.

I could feel her arms around me, and I could smell her floor. whirl perfume. And I knew there was no way I was asleep. Who are you? My name's Peg. She gave a bright smile, showing all of her teeth behind her fire engine lipstick. The two men walked over and stood behind her, and it was clear that they were also excited to see me. One of them held out his hand. Want to dance? I didn't take it at first because I was scared. I didn't know these people, and I didn't know why they were in my house, but it didn't make sense that they shouldn't be there. My parents would have surely heard the noise and seen all the furniture was gone,

which had to have been intentional. So, I slowly put out my hand and allowed the man to take it. His hand was warm in mine, and he led me to the center of the room. The music changed, and everyone looked at me so expectantly, like they wanted me to show them how to dance. I'm not very good at dancing. Here, follow me. Pegg showed me how to Charleston and Chitterbug and to hand jive. Then the music changed again. And the man in a bowling shirt showed me how to swing dance. He even showed me some moves where he lifted me into the air and pulled me through his legs. I learned his name was Mike. The other man was named Paul, and he laughed at all of my jokes.

Even the bad ones the other kids at school never laughed at. I was dancing and laughing and sweating, but having the time of my life. And eventually, I stopped wondering what was happening or why it was happening. I plopped down on the couch with a glass of water and chatted with one of the other women. Gladys, about school. She had dark hair and big cat eye glasses that reminded me of my grandmother. She asked me what college I was going to, but I was only 15 at the time, and hadn't even thought about college. So I lied and said I was thinking of taking a year off.

She said she loved that for me, and that if she had a choice, she wouldn't have exactly rushed to take the typing classes she was in with her. the third woman, Debbie. The party went on and on for hours, and I was the only one who seemed to get tired. I don't remember falling asleep, but the next thing I knew, I was waking up on the floor of my father's office, and the smell of my mother cooking breakfast was wafting in through the closed door. Everything was as it should be. His desk and office chair were in the same place they always were. And there were no signs at any sort of party had taken place. I walked out from the office and asked my mother if anything seemed strange when she woke up. She didn't even look away from the oven to tell me that she hadn't noticed anything out of place. To me, two things had to be

true. I had a very vivid dream of a party. And then sleepwalked into my father's office, and there was still some sort of animal that was sneaking into our house at night. It didn't seem that any animal had gotten in that evening, so I figured that maybe my presence in the office had prevented it from coming in, or had scared it off before it was able to get to the kitchen. But it hadn't been caught, whatever it was. And so I was determined to stay up again and catch the vermin. To prevent myself from falling asleep, I made myself a whole pot of. of coffee that evening and sipped the bitter brew hot and black from my father's work thermos. I hated coffee, but this was important.

My parents were asleep upstairs, and I was alone in the living room. I left a lamp on next to me this time, so that the darkness, when it lulled me to sleep. And I waited. It was so quiet in the house, I could hear the second hand of the clock. on the mantle, tick, ticking minutes of my life away as I continued the steak out. Around midnight, when the thermos was half empty and the TV shows had all signed off for the night, and I'd taken stock of every book on my mother's shelf in the living room. I saw something run across a kitchen from the corner of my eye. It was like the lights had drifted across the room all

evening as cars passed. But instead of light, it was a shadow that obscured the already darkened cabinets for a moment and then was gone, too quickly to be anything but a trespassing animal. So it is raccoons, I thought. I was on my feet in an instant. From the bin on the hearth, I grabbed the fire poker and then rushed into the kitchen and swiped the light switch on. Instead of seeing my mother's kitchen being ransacked by a rabid bandit, the lights went up on another party. The group was huddled by the stove as balloons bounced against the ceiling. It was the same five people from the night before. In front of them on the table was a white sheetcake with red icing that spelled out happy birthday.

I gasped. And dropped the fire poker. It clanged and reverberated violently against the linoleum of the kitchen floor. The sounds all so loud that they scared me more than the surprise had. Peg was standing in the middle of the group directly behind the cake and brought her hands to her mouth in shock. She rounded the table towards me. I'm sorry, we wanted to surprise you, not scare you.

She wrapped her arms around me, and I could feel the warmth of her hands on my shoulders. I could smell her perfume as it formed a soft cloud around me while she hugged me. She was real, and I was not asleep. What is happening? How did you get into my house? Your house. Peg left, bending at her waist and slapping her thigh like I told a joke. Mike and Paul both showed perfectly white teeth as they smiled,

but the other women kept their lips together in a demure way. You're funny. Come here and have a seat so you can blow out your candles. Pegg pulled me by the wrist towards a breakfast table, atop which the cake sat, and I couldn't help but follow her. Something about her was so disarming as to make the situation seem entirely reasonable, and I couldn't tell if I was awake or asleep anymore. It had to be a dream, because in real life I would never follow a random stranger who tried to tell me that my house wasn't my own. I sat down in one of the chairs, and Pegg joined the others on the other side of the table.

In the cake, I counted 15 red candles that were slowly melting and pulling wax onto the white icing. It's not my birthday. My birthday was in November. I remembered that my mom had given me an American girl book again, like she had for the past six birthdays. And I wondered when she was going to stop seeing me as a little girl. My dad had given me a cassette player, and I felt like he understood me better. I know, but I love birthdays, and I was so sad that we missed yours. And what's more surprising than a surprise party when it's not your birthday?

The others laughed, and so did I. When she slowly started singing happy birthday, moving her hands like a choir conductor, the others joined in. And when they were done and I blew out the candles, they all clapped. So, what did you wish for? I hadn't wished for anything.

I felt boggy and far away. And I knew then that I had to be dreaming. but everyone was looking at me expectantly, waiting for an answer, so I said, I wish that this party would never end. Which was true, it was a nice dream, and I wanted it to last as long as possible. They all seemed to like that and smiled with their pursed lips or their bright white teeth. Pegg picked up the knife laying on the table and cut into the corner of the cake. But when she brought the knife of that of the sponge, it was covered in a thick red syrup.

The air smelled like pennies, and no one was smiling anymore. The color drained out of their faces as a cake began to hemorrhage, and then a gust of wind blew through the kitchen, just like it had that summer that the tornado nearly ripped the roof off of the house. The power got knocked out in the kitchen, and the wind toweled so loudly that I had to cover my ear, I closed my eyes to protect myself from the dust being whipped around the room, and then all fall silent. Cold jolt ran at my spine, almost sending me straight back up the stairs to my bedroom and under the covers to hide like a scared little kid.

Slowly, I opened my eyes and lowered my hands, and I was sitting in the dark kitchen by myself. There was no cake and no balloons, and the smell of Peg's perfume had baited. Only then did I begin to understand what was happening in my house at night. I didn't know what to think of it. I wasn't afraid of Peg and the others when I was around them, but thinking back on my time with them sent more chills down my spine. What had Peg meant when she said that it wasn't my house? and why was I acting so weird when she said it?

You need to understand that things were different then than they are now. Access to information was different then. I'd heard ghost stories growing up, but most of them were just things that older kids told younger kids to scare them around a campfire. None of what I'd heard was firsthand. It was all just made up. I didn't think that ghosts or spirits

or what Peg and the others were could be anything more than souls trapped on earth. I believed in souls, and I believed in heaven and hell, and they had only ever been nice to me. They had seemed just as scared as me when they'd seen the cake bleed

and something had blown them out of my kitchen, probably the same thing that had whispered for me to leave. Whatever it was, I didn't think it was good. Pegg and everyone else had taken me in as a friend, when they first appeared, and I didn't have many friends at school. It was nice to feel like I was

part of their group. I know you know what I mean. The next night, I waited from 11 until 1, and nothing happened. There was no movement, no music, nothing. It was like that for days. I began to wonder if I had been dreaming on those nights before, if my fear of raccoons had somehow warped my imagination and then prayed on me when I was half lucid and made me dream or hallucinate about the other kids. Maybe there was something wrong with me and I needed to see a doctor. Or maybe my subconscious was trying to tell me that I needed to make friends with the other kids in the neighborhood. But then, about two weeks later, I heard something downstairs in the middle of the night just as I was dozing off and I knew they were back. As quickly and quietly as I could,

I made my way down the stairs and found all five of them sitting around the living room, chatting and drinking coffee. They all looked up at me when I squatted down to peer at them from between the balusters. Hey, look who finally decided to join us. Everyone watched me as I tiptoed down the rest of the stairs, still worried about waking my parents. The air felt warm with their presence, and the scent of espresso was stupe. strong and aromatic. I sat down on the couch next to Mike and tried to take up as little space on the cushion as I could, like I did when I visited my aunt's house, or when my mom took me to her friend's house for Easter dinner. These kids were really almost adults, and they were all so much

cooler than me. I didn't want to do anything that seemed uncool to make them dislike me, But I also didn't want them to get spooked and disappear into thin air if I said the wrong thing either. Debbie turned to me. Do you want some coffee? Oh, no, thank you. I don't like coffee unless it's a latte. It was a lie. I hated coffee.

But my cousins had shown me lattes a summer before, and I thought it made me sound more mature. A latte. Who's a latte? Peg sounded genuinely intrigued, and I had to hide how pleased I was that she didn't seem to know. It's just coffee with a lot of hot milk. It's Italian, I think. Oh, I'll have to try that. I don't like strong coffee myself. I didn't even start drinking it until I started studying for my exams. And even then, I poured the whole sugar bowl in. The light from the lamps reflected off of Gladys's glasses as she looked around Mike to talk to me from the other side of the couch, giving her the illusion of having no eyes.

No, that reminds me. Did I tell you that I saw old Mrs. Larson the other day? The conversation quickly slipped away from where I wanted to direct it. Instead, they talked about teachers they had and classmates they'd seen recently. Were the teachers they discussed also dead now? I wondered, when was the last time they'd seen their classmates? What year did they think it was? I listened to them talk and laughed at their jokes. And although I wanted to ask them what had happened to them,

if they even knew what had happened to them, I just never got the chance. I awoke with a start on the couch as the sun was beginning to rise and quietly made my way back up the stairs to my room before my parents could find me. The next night, Peg came to me. She was sitting on the foot of my bed, just watching me sleep.

Seeing her just sitting there in the dark startled me, and I yanked the blankets up to my face to protect myself, but she just smiled at me. I didn't mean to wake you. I thought you might be awake and we could have a little gap. I laughed at my own silliness and lowered the blanket, not wanting to be rude or childish in front of peg. Sure, what do you want to talk about? I think you already know.

You might have noticed that my friends and I are different. Yeah, I have noticed that. What have you noticed? Her eyes fixed on me. And I wondered again how it could possibly be that she was. wasn't of this world. She was so real, so solid, and her gaze on me was so penetrating that I wondered if one soul could see into another. I've noticed that I considered my words carefully. None of you ever changed clothes. She continued to stare at me. And for a moment I thought

that I'd said the entirely wrong thing. I didn't have to be. I didn't have to be. I didn't have to be. She continued to stare at me. I didn't have that many clothes myself. But to avoid getting picked on at school, I would at least try to put a day between wearing the same thing. Peg and her friends were always in the exact same outfits. Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Peg slowly smiled, like she was catching on to a joke. She even laughed. Oh, we do always wear the same clothes. Not very fashionable. I guess. And your clothes are...

Not like mine. She nodded. You're right. And that's because you're all... What could I say? What was a nice way to say you're dead? Between worlds. I thought that was lovely.

It made me feel warm inside. Being with Pegg always made me feel safe. Yeah. Between worlds. But you all seem so happy. We are. It's not so bad being like us, except... She broke off. Her voice dropping an octave on the last word.

And my heart skipped a beat. Except there's another one here who is like us, but not like us. She's not happy to be here. She's very mad and I... Mad about what? Mad about being between worlds. And I have to tell you that the more we're in this world, the more she can be in this world.

Instantly, my window began to rattle in its pain like the wind was blowing hard. I jumped at the sound and broke eye contact with Peg. The window continued to rattle harder and faster until I thought the glass was going to burst out of the brain. Peg sounded afraid. Don't listen to her, okay? Whatever she says, don't listen to her. But Peg?

I cast one final glance at the window and then back at Pegg, but she was gone. The window went still, but I felt uneasy. The rest of the night, I watched the shadows flit about my room as the breeze blew through the leaves and the trees. Worried that the bad ghost would appear at any minute. This is where I really, really need you to listen to what I'm telling you. Peg disappeared for a while after that. I thought about what she'd said, about the mad ghost being able to come between worlds when Peg and her friends did.

She seemed afraid. So I guessed that the mad ghost must be dangerous. I figured that she was trying to protect herself and her friends from the mad ghost, and that's why she told me about her that night. Or maybe she was trying to protect me from the mad ghost. I tried to accept that it was better not to see them as often, but I missed them. The summer was coming to an end soon, and I was going to have to go back to school, where I didn't have any friends, and no one laughed at my jokes,

and no one thought I was cool like Peg and the others did. But I couldn't help trying to coax them back to this world. I sat up in my bed at night and whispered their names into the darkness. I called out as loud as I could without waking my parents. The lights of a passing car circled my room, but no one appeared. I sat in silence, feeling silly and needy. My loneliness settled on my shoulders like a heavy blanket. I always felt so good when I was with Peg and her friends,

like everything was right. In comparison, regular life was unbearable. It wasn't as fun or happy or peaceful. Sitting in the darkness, I felt especially alone. And I started to worry that if Peg never came back, I would be alone forever. I wish we could always be together. I said out loud to the empty room, as the tears gathered on my lashes. I thought back to the birthday wish I'd made.

And my heartache. A wind kicked up again, as sudden and violent as a night in the kitchen, and my bedroom door slammed open. The voice only whispered, but it had an overwhelming presence, seeming to come from everywhere at once. I screamed and covered my head with my arms. My dad ran to my bedroom. My door was open, but the air was still. My heart was beating in my chest, and I was gasping for breath. My parents rushed to my bed and place their hands on my arms and face to soothe me.

I had a bad dream. They nodded in understanding. My mom kissed me on the head. It's okay, sweetheart. You're safe. Just go back to sleep. But it wasn't safe. The next night, I called out for Peg again.

Peg! I felt that I desperately needed her. That I would die from loneliness if I never saw her or the others again. Instead of Pegg, the mad ghost came again. The temperature in my room dropped until I could see my breath, but I couldn't see her. All of the blankets on my bed weren't enough to keep me warm. And I felt so scared. When I was with Peg and her friends, I always felt safe and warm,

but it wasn't like that at all with this ghost. It was like she radiated hatred and fear at me. I tried to talk to her, tried to reason with her, but she wouldn't listen. She whispered over and over again, her words bouncing off the walls, echoing and overlapping like a chorus of ghosts. It was awful. I couldn't sleep anymore, and I was scared all the time. Peggay made it sound like the mad ghost only came out because she and her friends had.

But now I never saw them. And it was only ever that mean mad ghost who visited me. I started to wish that I'd never met any of them. It was so bad. I needed an escape. There was no way I could explain to my parents that our house was haunted and have them believe me. Instead, I asked them to take me camping. I told them I wanted to do something special before the summer ended,

and they were happy to put a trip together. We spent a weekend in the mountains, hiking and making some wars, and watching the birds in the trees and the deer in the valleys. At night, I still felt the uneasiness that the ghost had been making me feel when I tried to sleep, but I was out of her reach in the woods. I felt happy again. Not happy like I did with Peg and the others, but normal happy.

I felt like myself. But the night we came back from our trip, Peg came back. I woke up to her sitting at the foot of my bed, watching me. At first I was scared, but then I realized who she was. and felt more at ease, but still angry with her.

Where have you been? I wasn't sure if I was more upset that she was back, or that she'd left me alone with the mad ghost in the first place. I missed you. My irritation with her dissipated as a serenity of her presence settled over me. I just couldn't be here when that other one is here. I didn't want to be here either. I don't think she wants me here.

She keeps telling me to leave. My voice cracked when I spoke, but Pegg didn't seem to notice. She doesn't like other people being in the house. She doesn't want the rest of us to have any fun. Big sounded bored or impatient. She changed somehow, I realized. Can you make her go away? I didn't want to beg, but I was terrified of the mad ghost.

and I couldn't stand the thought of Peg leaving me again. Peg looked wistfully sad then. She took my hand in both of hers and squeezed gently. No, I can't make her go away. Not unless me and all my friends go away too. Now that Peg was there with me, I remembered why I loved being with her so much, and I started to panic.

I shouted. As I did, I found myself sitting up in bed. My room was completely empty. I had only been dreaming that peg was there. I was about to lay back down when a glint of light caught my eyes by my bedroom door. Two circles glowed in the dark, reminding me of the reflection in Gladys' glasses that night in the living room.

They were cold and empty, and then they were blinked away, and I heard a purring chatter as a whatever had been watching me scurried down the hall. It was a raccoon. In my house, in my bedroom, watching me. I leapt out of bed, my eyes adjusting to the dark, and just managed to catch the end of its tail as it disappeared up the ladder into the attic. The ladder to the attic was never down, but I didn't have time to think about it. I followed it, knowing that I needed to get rid of of these horrible monsters in my house.

When I reached the attic floor, I heard the chattering again by a broken window lit by streetlights. I ran towards the raccoon, and it slipped through the hole in the window. I threw the window open and climbed out, stepping onto the garage below, driven by a need to know where the raccoons were coming and going from. I looked down at my own feet to steady myself, and when I looked up, Pegg was standing.

on the roof. For a horrifying moment, I lost my balance on the rough shingles, and the air rushed out of my lungs. What are you doing up here? She was keeping perfect balance on the apex of the roof. Her hair didn't even move as the wind blew through my pajamas, and lightly but persistently attempted to push me off. I pressed myself against the house to keep my balance. This is the only way. What is the only way? For the party to never end. You have to jump. It's hardly anything at all.

It's just a step, really. It won't hurt, I promise. And then we'll be able to be together forever, just like you wished for. A cold knot tied itself with my vocal cords, and I could barely even ask. What are you talking about, Peg? You'll still be able to be with your parents.

I'm able to be with you, aren't I? She reached her handout to help me up. And even with the scent of her perfume on the wind and the ease and her smile, I didn't trust her anymore. This wasn't the peg I knew. This was all wrong. A voice above me on the top of the house shouted. Stop!

I felt completely frozen in place. It was the mad ghost. I had never seen her. face and I didn't want to see it. So I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to will her away. The wind gusted, pushing me sideways and I let out a yelp in fear. You're scaring her. The peg didn't sound accusatory. It sounded like she was taunting someone. Put her back where you found her. I opened my eyes just enough to see Peg's feet floating above the garage in front of me, and it turned my stomach.

I want to go back to bed, Peg. Please let me go back to bed. Peg looked down at me and frowned Deborah so slightly. Is that what you want? I nodded. Okay. Turn around then. Go back inside, and you'll never see any of us again.

She looked a little sad or disappointed. But then her eyes shifted to look past me at the other ghost. I twisted my shoulders to look behind me and up, keeping my feet in place as best I could, and finally faced the mad ghost. I had expected to see a withered old woman or a pale skeletal apparition, but instead I just saw a sad girl. She was short and skinny and blonde, and couldn't have been much older than I was.

She didn't look mad either. She looked scared Her wide eyes took in the whole scene in front of her As Peg wrapped her arms around me And held me in her soothing embrace And then she pushed me There wasn't even roof beneath my feet for me to stumble I tip sideways and then backwards

And the blonde's ghost eyes went even wider As she watched me fall Peg's smile broadened then widened and then split her face open, revealing sharp, rat-like yellow teeth. She threw her head back and let out a nauseating, roaring chatter. She wasn't human. She wasn't even a ghost. She was something else entirely.

It only took a fraction of a second for me to fall beyond the gutter and then flip end over end towards the ground. But that fraction of a second seemed to last. forever in slow motion. My short life didn't pass before my eyes, but the past few weeks with Peg did. And I understand what she had been doing to me, and what the blonde ghost had tried to do to help me.

This is what I'm trying to do for you. I'm not here to hurt you like you think I am. I'm here to tell you that the ghost are not what they seem. And the light of dawn, Our tales must come to an end until the next time we gather. We'll keep the fire burning until you return. That is, if you dare to remain sleepless. The No Sleep podcast is presented by Creative Reason Media.

The musical score was composed by Brandon Boone. Our production team is Phil Mikulski, Jeff Clement, and Jesse Cornett. Our editor-in-chief is Jessica McAvoy. To discover how you can get even more sleepless horror stories from us, just visit sleepless.com to learn about the sleepless sanctuary. Add free extended episodes each week and lots of bonus content for the dark hours, all for only one low monthly broadcast.

On behalf of everyone at the No Sleep Podcast, we thank you for joining us around the campfire for our 20th season. This audio program is copyright 2023 and 2024 by Creative Reason Media, Inc. All rights reserved. The copyrights for each story are held by the respective authors. No duplication or reproduction of this audio program. is permitted without the written consent of Creative Reason Media.