The NoSleep Podcast - S20 Ep20: NoSleep Podcast S20E20

Episode Date: February 25, 2024

It’s Episode 20 of Season 20. Come join us around the campfire with tales about creature features.“The Moon Took My Daughter, and No One Will Listen” written by Willow Titensor (Story starts around 00:03:30)TRIGGER WARNING!Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Diana – Kristen DiMercurio, Husband – Matthew Bradford, Lulu – Ella Boone“It’s Here” written by Matthew N. Clarke (Story starts around 00:15:20)Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Narrator – Jesse Cornett, It – Jeff Clement, Wife – Nichole Goodnight“A Dark Night on Wilson Bay” written by Preston Farlow (Story starts around 00:29:30)TRIGGER WARNING!Produced by: Jesse CornettCast: Marvin Franck – David Cummings, Rebecca Howard – Erin Lillis, Dale Waterman – Graham Rowat, Unknown Woman – Nichole Goodnight, Unknown Man #1 – Jeff Clement, Unknown Man #2 – Peter Lewis, Unknown Man #3 – Matthew Bradford“Light in the Depths” written by JR Patton (Story starts around 01:12:40)Produced & scored by: David CummingsCast: Narrator – Atticus Jackson, Lou – Jake Benson“The Fourth Setting” written by Simon Bleaken (Story starts around 01:42:35)Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Narrator – Mike DelGaudio, McKenzie – Dan Zappulla, Henders – Peter Lewis, Radio Host – Graham RowatThis episode is sponsored by: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 Matthew N. ClarkeClick here to learn more about Preston FarlowClick here to learn more about Simon Bleaken Executive Producer & Host: David CummingsMusical score composed by: Brandon Boone“A Dark Night on Wilson Bay” illustration courtesy of Emily CannonAudio program ©2024 – 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 firelight. 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 in the past i've talked a lot about how i got introduced to audio horror when i was a teenager old-time radio shows replayed by a local radio station on Sunday nights.

Yep, ever wonder why we release episodes on Sundays? It's an homage to my Sunday night audio horror days. But there was another way I got into horror, and it was via TV stations playing old horror movies on either a Friday or Saturday night. I would often sleep over at my best friend Greg's house. We'd stay up late and watch a couple of movies. Sometimes they were the classic Bray.

British Hammer movies featuring Dracula or Frankenstein. Sometimes we'd get the black and white classic horrors from Universal. Bride of Frankenstein was always a fave of mine. And other times we'd get those wonderful kaiju movies from Japan with monsters like Godzilla and Mothra. So if you're old, like me, and had a local TV station that embrace this kind of programming, you probably remember this kind of movie-watching experience. And if that's the case, you know what they called this kind of programming?

Creature Features. And yes, it was always thrilling to watch these monsters and creatures fill us with fear as they tormented the locals who had the misfortune of encountering them. Fun times. On this episode, we present tales, which could, in their own way, be considered part of a creature-feature lineup. Monsters, creatures, strange beings that are clearly out. to inflict some sort of horror upon unsuspecting people.

And isn't it funny how people report seeing monsters and they're never believed until it's too late? Well, we can rest easy because surely these creatures don't really exist, right? Who would ever believe us? So make some popping corn, cuddle up in front of the campfire, turn on the TV, or podcast player, and enjoy a bit of a creature feature night of your own. And now the sun has set, the fire glows bright. Brace yourself for the monsters in the night. In our first tale, we meet Diana, a panicked mother whose daughter has been abducted.

She thinks she knows what happened to the little girl, but no one will believe her. And in this tale, shared with us by author Willow to Tenser, We hear the mother's theory about what happened to her daughter, and it's kind of loony. Performing this tale are Kristen DeMecurio, Matthew Bradford, and Ella Boone. So when it comes to monsters, they don't come much bigger than this one. Because, as Diana tells us, the moon took my daughter, and no one will listen. I know how this sounds, but please, before you judge me, Listen to me.

I can't go to the cops. When I tried, they laughed me out of the station. Then they investigated me. They searched my home. They tore it to pieces. I'm sitting on the floor of my living room, surrounded by my belongings that they demolished. I guess I can't blame them.

But even after they found nothing, they wouldn't listen to me. They threatened to have me institutionalized, especially since my husband and I are the prime suspects. I love my daughter. My husband does too. We tried for her, wanted her, and were overjoyed when she came into our lives. She was special from day one.

She very rarely cried. She would look right at you and coo as you spoke. She giggled, smiled, and pouted, and just overall had such a big personality for a baby. As she grew, so did her personality. Now at age six, she's funny and quick-witted, sharp on her toes. She always has a comeback and often speaks like a much older child. Last week she lost her first tooth and got a visit from the tooth fairy for the first time. She remarked,

Kind of weird that a fairy collects a bunch of kid teeth. We laughed and laughed. She's the kind of kid that's so effortlessly nice to be around that everyone she meets adores her. We named her Luella, nicknamed her Lulu. Lulu Leanne. My husband thought it was too many L's in a name, but I loved her. it so much that he didn't put up much of a fight. The day she was born was the happiest day of my life, and the day she disappeared was the worst. I tucked her into bed. I read her a few chapters

of Peter Pan. She fell asleep before they reached Neverland. I made sure her nightlight was plugged in and that she had a cup of water on her nightstand. I kissed her forehead. I wrapped some Christmas presents and waited for my husband to get home. I warmed up his dinner for him and we watched the Grinch in our PJs before bed. He always went into her room to say good night when he got home, so as I made my way to our bedroom, he went to hers. Then he hollered at me from down the hall. Diana, where's Lou? What do you mean? She's not in bed? No. I rushed down the hall to see him opening her closet doors. Lou, where are you, honey? I immediately checked the window. It was still latched. I checked under the bed before running out of the room and checking everywhere else in the house.

Both the front and back doors were still locked, and she couldn't have relocked them if she went out of the house. All of the windows were closed, and besides they were too heavy for her to lift open anyway. My husband and I searched all over the house, yelling her name in panic. After over an hour of searching, we called the police. They took our statements as we sobbed, trying to explain that there was no way she could have gone outside or someone had come in. After 12 hours of her missing, search parties were scouring the neighborhood. They took fingerprints on all of the window seals and doorknobs. Nothing out of the ordinary was found.

Then the questions started coming my way. Even my husband was starting to question my story. I guess if roles were reversed, I would be too. I picked her up from school after my shift at the deli on December 7th. We came home and had a snack. She did her homework and colored. We watched a show and ate dinner, and then I put her to bed just like every other night. But I was the only one with her.

No one else saw us do these things, so I guess the suspicion was understandable. When they interrogated me, I stuck to my story because it was fucking true. I love Lulu. I always will. After 12 hours of interrogation, I remembered some odd things that Lulu had been talking about lately. Her first grade class had been learning about the phases of the moon, and I was helping Lulu with a homework assignment just a week earlier. We had to cut out the different shapes, glue them to a piece of paper like a clock,

and label each one for each of the different phases. As we cut out the waxing crescent moon, she turns to me. Mom, how do we know the different phases of the moon if we can't see them? I was taken aback for a moment, before I laughed, and replied, you can see the different types of moons. You and I have gone stargazing and seen when the moon is just a little sliver and also when it's a big circle.

Lulu furrowed her brow. Thanks so, Mom. The moon's always big when I see it. Honey, you might only remember when the moon is big and pretty, but I promise you. You can see the phases throughout the months. She shrugged her shoulders

and continued cutting and pasting the different shapes on the paper. Another conversation we had, probably last spring, was about how the moon follows you as you drive. I remember myself being little and riding in the backseat of my parents' car looking out at the sky. The moon did follow you, or so it seemed. I explained to Lulu that the moon follows everybody because it's so big. It wasn't easy explaining perspectives and planetary objects

to a five-year-old, so I left it at that. She was earnest in her response. No, Mommy, the moon follows me closer. It takes up the whole sky. It's all. always right by me. I laughed at this. I know it seems like the moon is really close because we can see it, but it's actually really far away. It's kind of like how the sun seemed to take up the whole sky when it's out because it's so bright, and the moon takes up so much of the sky when it's dark because it reflects the sun's light.

I heard a quiet, from the back seat, and as I glanced in the rearview mirror, I watched her fold her arms and look out the window. The sun doesn't like me. Like I said, she was effortlessly funny. Lou, the sun doesn't have feelings. It's just a star. The moon doesn't have feelings either. It's just a moon.

She looked longingly out of the backseat window for a moment before replying. The moon doesn't like it when you say that. Maybe I should have questioned it more. Maybe I should have continued the conversation from there. But you don't think about the moon stealing your daughter when she's just saying weird stuff like kids do. At least I didn't. Then our last conversation, right before I read her Peter Pan, I was tucking her into bed and grabbing the book off the shelf when she said,

"'Tonight's the cold moon, mommy.' I glanced out the window to see a full moon peering down at me. Is that what December's full moon is called? She nodded enthusiastically. I settled into the chair next to her bed. Did you learn that in school last week? Mm-hmm. And the moon reminded me today. It said it was very powerful. It said I should come with it. Oh, did it? But she didn't smile at me. She just looked me dead in the eyes.

I told it I don't want to go, but I don't think I can say no to the moon. Don't worry, the moon isn't going to get you. You're safe with me. I'll make sure dad checks on you when he gets home. She seemed anxious still, but after a couple of chapters, I watched her sleepy eyes close. I hoped she would dream of flying to Neverland, just like the characters. As I closed the book and set it next to her glass of water on the night table, I admired the moon in the window. It did look bigger, closer, almost like I could reach out of the window with the broomstick and touch it. I thought it was a super moon.

I didn't even care to check Google for an answer as to why it was so big and beautiful. I just went and put my PJs on and waited for her dad to get home. I know. I know it sounds crazy. My husband and the cops think I did it. Hell, you probably do too, and honestly, I thought I was going crazy myself. I was ready to turn myself in, admit that I must have had a mental breakdown, and don't remember what I did with my own daughter, but...

But the moon is still full. It's been 22 days since Luella went missing, and every single day that I look, the moon is full. In the night sky, it's dominating and big, like it's gloating, like it's gloating, like it's... smiling at me and saying, I've got her here with me. Like you said I couldn't. When I mentioned this to my husband, he called me crazy. He said it was a half-moon, but I see the full moon, and I think it sees me. When it comes to strange creatures, if you're lucky, you'll spot one

from a distance. A shadowy figure in the woods, a strange hump appearing across a lock, Stuff like that. But in this tale, shared with us by author, Matthew N. Clark, we meet a couple who encounter something very strange indeed, and in perhaps the most unsettling way, waking up in the middle of the night

to see it standing at the foot of their bed. Performing this tale are Jesse Cornett, Jeff Clement, and Nicole Goodnight. So hopefully these monsters will keep their distance, personal space and all that, right? The last thing you want to realize is that it's here. My wife shakes me so hard, I wake with a sharp grunt. She's sitting bolt upright in bed.

I turned my head towards her. My eyes wrinkle from sleep in confusion. Her eyes are unblinking, terrified, and transfixed on something at the foot of our bed. I sit up, rubbing my eyes as they adjust to the early morning light. The white curtains ripple gently with a slight breeze, hiding the promise of a beautiful summer's day. Then I see something at the foot of our bed. My wife and I remain frozen.

And first, I'm paralyzed. Quickly, my fear turns to anger. I grab my sheets and motion to get out of bed. Suddenly, I'm frozen solid by fear again as I take a closer look at the thing. The figure is tall, lean, and lanky. It has the proportions of a large Simeon. Its long arms stretch all the way to the ground, and its hands lie limply on the wooden floor. Each hand ends in five deadly claws with wicked sharp points.

The thing is black as pitch, and I can't. can't tell if it has dark, burnt skin, or if it's made from a wholly otherworldly substance. Its mouth is large and stretched into a horrific grin. Its jagged teeth are unnaturally white, and it bears them with a menacing glee. Its ears taper off into subtle points like that on an elf, and it has long, straggly black hair that is clumped and caked together by some brown material I do not wish to think about. My brain is confused by this impossible sight, and my mind goes blank. I think it has to be a joke, but I can smell the thing. It has a smell that could not be

produced by anything living, anything natural. I'm so utterly confused still. Something like this cannot exist. How is it here on some random summer's morning, standing here in a plain daylight. These kind of things only happen at night. There have been no other signs, no unexplained moving objects, strange sounds, eerie smells, or cold patches. We have not read any weird books, played with Ouija boards, or been cursed. But there it stands, grinning at us, not moving a single limb.

I suddenly noticed the silence. It is so eerily quiet right now. But how? Nearly every day this summer, the neighbors were cutting down trees or letting their dogs and children run about and scream and bark and play much to my chagrin. Yet now, the air is thick with silence. Where are the neighbors? In fact, where are the birds? There are only birds chirping loudly outside at this time.

Has something happened to them? Sweat pours down my forehead. The thing is standing so still, so silent. I hear my heart pounding and my breathing becomes quick and shallow. Whatever this thing is, it's simply not possible. I begin to shake. I move my hand towards my wife slowly. I do not break my gaze on the thing.

I stare at its eyes. They are large, white, and milky, dead. My breath comes out hard and fast. As I grab my wife, she jumps slightly, but does not turn her head away from the thing. Her face is twisted with terror and her face is pale as strong. snow. She trembles as she squeezes my hand so tight it goes numb and my fingers turn white. All I think about is getting away from this thing. I start to whisper to my wife when the thing

slowly raises a long, thin, its lips, purse as a noise that does not belong to our world. This is out. Sounds slippery, slimy, squelchy, squelchy. It sounds like something as it's swallowed by a peat bog. I freeze. My heart freezes. My blood freezes. My wife is clenching so tight my hand feels like it's being crushed. I tug at her chin and gesture for her to follow me.

Slowly and silently, eyes glued on the thing. We step out of bed. As we do, I grab the same. my keys from the bedside table. I then notice my wife and I are still in our summer pajamas. Strangely, with stress pressing on my mind from all sides, I'm suddenly more worried about being found dead in my Spider-Man pajamas than anything else. I chuckle quietly and hysterically at this random and inappropriate thought as we run barefoot from our bedroom.

It's in the corridor. Shit! It's in the corridor now! It didn't make a sound. I turned back to the bedroom. It's gone. It is moved without walking or scuttling or running. It can travel from place to place without needing to move. Does that mean there's just one of them?

My heart is beating so fast I feel dizzy. It stands at the entrance to the bathroom, just to our right as we exit the bathroom. bedroom. The curtains undulate gently as the summer breeze blows through the open bathroom window. The smell carried by this zephyr nearly burns off my nose. It is so wretched. The grip I have on my wife is now more desperate. There is no avoiding it. We have to run right by this thing to get to the front door. My stomach drops and my vision swims from fright. We run. We run. We run. We run. We run. We have to run. We run. We have to run. We have to run. We have to run. We have to run. The thing to the front door to the front door to the front door. My stomach drops and my vision swims from fright.

We run past it. The smell gets so much worse. It reaches out its clawed hand and caresses my face softly as we bound down the hall. My wife and I fight back tears. My mind is in tatters. All I can see now is the front door. I rip it open and tear through the door, wife and hand and, into the warm morning air.

We don't close or lock the door. The air is humid and sticky. It is hard to breathe. My chest is burning as we sprint to our little green car and leap inside. It's in the driveway. It's in the driveway. How could this be possible? What the hell is this thing standing and grinning in the blaring morning sun?

I start the car as my wife and I buckle our seatbelts. The thing just stands as still as before, smiling that disturbing smile. My eyes pour out tears from pure stress and fear. I'm sobbing, and my wife is near Catatonia. I slam my foot on the accelerator and we take off straight for the thing. It jumps nimbly to one side, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. and just as eerily graceful. As we reach the gate, I don't check for cars.

I don't care. We live in a small mountain village, and I take our chances. I swivel my head around to look at the thing as it stands in the driveway, staring at us, unblinking, smiling. I stare at it and turn as I drive the car around the corner and watch the thing disappear as we moved. the road. I continue to stare out the back window, so sure I will see it pounding after us, using its arms to run like a gorilla. But I've seen nothing. I turn my head slowly to face the

front window. My heart begins to ease. Momentarily, my wife and I are silent, but soon we are screaming from stress and fear, tears flooding down our face. My wife turns to me. That thing. It suddenly smells horrible in the car. My blood ignites with fear. It's the thing's voice coming from the seat behind my wife. We freeze and fall immediately silent.

Fighting back our own whimpering. Slowly, we turn. It's in the car. It's all. On the backseat. It's in the car now. Suddenly, I hear a noise and turn back to face the road to see that I've crossed lanes completely. A small BMW heading straight for me.

I yell and make a sharp turn back towards my lane, my heart, and my throat. As we return to the correct side of the road, I see the thing reach out a hand for my wife. Their slashes are just once across her chest and neck. And it's so fast I just see a blur. And then blood. Scarlet gore spurts from my wife in pressurized pulses. I watch her bleed and gurgle. She grabs my hand.

But it quickly goes limp. So beyond natural, it sounds like a... A swamp trying to speak. I am dead and numb. I cry out in terror and anguish. Anger, spit, and vengeance quickly explode to life in my brain. Vaporizing all traces of fear. I veer the car towards a cliff.

We fly off of it and into a precipice. The thing just... grins as we fall. The cops don't believe me. I survived the crash. My wife is dead, and they think it was me somehow. I lie and tell them a wild animal got in the car, killed my wife, and forced me off the road.

They shake their heads. Suddenly, there's a bang. The car outside the hospital has backfired. Momentarily, the cops and nurses are distracted. I steal the scalpel quickly and hide it under my mattress. It's and see it outside the hospital. It stands and grins up at me. I clench the scalpel in my bandaged, shaking hand.

I lie in bed, and I hold my breath. It's in my room now. It's here. When it comes to strange creatures, they so often have a long history. People recount tales of sightings from decades ago, even when others see the creatures right up to present day. They seem to have staying power. And in this tale, shared with us by author Preston Farlow,

we meet a couple of lighthouse keepers who have, some tales of their own until they realize they're both talking about the same strange encounter. Performing this tale with me are Aaron Lillis, Graham Rowett, Nicole Goodnight, Jeff Clement, Peter Lewis, and Matthew Bradford. So pull your boat into port and hunker down during the storm because it's a dark night on Wilson Bay. When you get in, storm's really raging out there, isn't it? Oh, Jesus, you're telling me. I almost slid off the road twice driving in.

See any accidents? I couldn't see much of anything if I'm being honest, but... No, I don't think so. Well, let's you and me try to keep it that way. At least out on the bay. Conditions are choppy out there, and Noah's reporting that the storm is going to last all night. Oh, you and me?

You're staying for the night shift? Of course, you're still officially a trainee, and this storm's a monster. It'd be irresponsible for me to leave. Besides, Roscoe's going to need someone to hold him when the thunder gets too loud, and I don't think he trusts you quite yet. Of course. Where's the little furball anyways? Napping in the break room last I saw. It's been a long day for him. I bet.

Thanks for staying, though, Marv. Tell you the truth. I was pretty nervous about this shift while driving in. Ah, don't mention it. I've seen hundreds of nights like these. They're always better with a little company. I can imagine. What's the current situation? I saw the light was going when I pulled in.

Lights all set. I checked the motors and generators about an hour ago. Latest from Noah tells us the storm's going to last well into the morning. 50-mile-an-hour winds, Eight inches of rain, 30-foot waves, General Bedlam in despair. No big ships, but we've still got one vessel out on the water. What? Who the hell is still out there than this? Dale Waterman and the Denson Marlin.

Have you heard from them? Yeah, about 40 minutes ago. Man stubborn is all hell and refused to talk earlier this afternoon. No use trying to convince him otherwise. Oh, we'll see about that. Attention, attention, Dancing Marlin. This is the Wilson Bay Headlight.

Do you copy? Over. Hi, Dale. What the hell are you guys doing? Over. Got about two more to go, over? I could guess that. I mean, what the hell are you still doing out there?

Your ship isn't big enough to handle this kind of storm. Over. I've got to agree with Becca here, Dale. Conditions are looking to touch apocalyptic. Might not be. a prudent idea to stay out like this. Over. Taxes and prudent ideas instead of money, I'll give it a go. Until then, I need this... Jesus, what an asshole. He's going to get his crew killed. Someday, probably. Nothing we can do about it, sadly. We've just got to sit here, advise on conditions, and be ready to contact the Coast Guard.

Everything else is on them and God. You're awfully relaxed about the situation. Comes with experience. Assholes like Dale are a dime a dozen in this line of work. You just get used to it. Coffee? Thanks. I guess you're right, but it's just infuriating.

How can you be that reckless with your crew's lives like that? Yeah. Time and technology have caused people to forget what a dangerous place Wilson Bay is. Lots of ghosts on these waters. What do you mean? This storm's definitely something else, sure, but the bay itself isn't that bad. It's been decades since the last wreck, hasn't it? It has, but only because I'm good at my job.

Zero incidents since I've taken over the headlight. Before that, however... Yes. Wilson Bay has a history of shipwrecks that stretches back centuries. Happened all the time when I was a kid. The state used to pay nothing for this work, and no... Keeper would stay for more than a few years at most. We used to have multiple wrecks a month, mostly on Blackstone Island.

Blackstone? Seriously? Follow me to the window. Marb, I can't see a thing out there. I know where Blackstone Island is. I just can't... Wait for the light to pass over it. There, there it is. Did you see that? Uh, barely, I think. Look like there were a bunch of waves covering it. And that's the devilry of it.

The rocks on the island are dark enough that you can barely see them with a full moon. Throw in some rain and waves and the thing's damn near invisible. The number of lives lost crashing into that rock, I couldn't fathom a guess. Did ships not know to avoid it in the past? It sneaks up on you. I've heard countless stories from people who tried to change course around the island, only to be dragged back and scrape up against it. Something about it pulls you in.

You mean like it has its own current? Nah, something more than that. Something sinister. Call it ghosts. Call it Satan. Call it whatever you will. There's an evil about Blackstone Island beyond any of our understanding. You grew up here, I'm sure.

you've heard the stories. A few. Ghosts of dead sailors and stuff like that. I don't really remember I was never much of one for superstitions or legends. It's more than superstition and legend. Oh?

Sounds like there's a story behind that statement. There is. I'm just not sure if it's one to share right now. I'm not going anywhere. You've got a captive audience. Well, I suppose, if you're going to twist my arm about it, we've got time to kill, and there's no better setting than tonight for a story like this. I'm wrapped with anticipation.

I can tell. This story's going to take us back away, in 1958, actually. I was nine at the time. Wilson Bay was a different place back then. Smaller, tighter than it. Everyone knew everyone, and we treated everyone as family. Hmm, there were good times, honest times. Yes, back when kids would walk to school uphill, both ways.

It built character, damn it. Anyways, my father was a fisherman, same as everyone else in town back in those days. He was a good man, always provided for us. Had an affliction for the bottle, which I believe is hereditary, but that's an entirely different story. About two years before this, he'd bought a beat-up day sailor for cheap at an estate sale up in Marion Beach, yeah. The boat was small and needed more or less constant maintenance, but he treasured it like a second child. Used to take me out sailing on Sundays after mass. nothing elaborate, just a few hours going around the bay.

He couldn't stand to spend a day away from the sea, not even on the Sabbath. My mother never joined us, always cursing him, saying he should spend more time at home. They fought like cats and dogs about it, but my father would always end up dragging me along with him. Once we were on the boat, all the anger seemed to drain out of him. I think the open water was the only place he ever truly felt at peace. Sounds like a lot of people from around here.

Well, one Sunday in particular, we were lazen about the bay, not doing much of anything. We never talked much on those trips, but I always liked the quiet of it. Later in the afternoon, about an hour before sunset, I saw some dark clouds gathering on the horizon. I mentioned it to him, but he just shook his head. and told me to keep quiet. Not the most comforting words to hear, but I did as I was told. My father kept the same stoic look on his face

that he always had, and I convinced myself it was nothing. The clouds kept coming, however, and by the time we were turning back for the mainland, the rain had started. A few minutes later came the wind, and with it, the waves. My father stationed himself at the wheel

It began barking orders at me. I'd worked the sails before, but never in conditions like those. My arms were too weak to pull the ropes tight against the gale. Waves crashed over the sides and knocked me off my feet. Seawater ran slick across the deck, and every time I fell, I would skid hard into the sidewalk. After a few spills, I just lay there on the deck, weeping and terrified. My hands were rubbed raw,

holding the ropes and salt water stung my eyes. I was convinced we were both going to die. The only thing that ripped me from this state was my father screaming at me. I looked up at him and through the rain and darkness saw a look on his face I'd never seen before. Reassurance, I suppose, would be the closest word. Confidence, maybe. But those don't do it justice. All the same, it lit a fire in me, and I scrambled to my feet to adjust the sail.

He swung the wheel hard to port and began guiding us to the mainland, trying to split the distance between Blackstone and the bluffs. I kept my eyes on him, only looking around when the beam from the headlight swung across the bay. Each time it did, I saw Blackstone creep closer and closer to us. My father roared against the storm, pushing the wheel with all that he had, as I clutched at the railing tighter than I've ever held anything. Didn't matter. We crashed our starboard side hard against the rocks.

The crash shook the whole boat and threw me across the deck. I hit my head hard against the cabin wall, and my senses left me. The world went completely black and silent. next thing I remember were these tight arms wrapped around me. Slowly my vision and hearing returned. I could feel raindrops pelting the top of my head. The world appeared dark and blurry, with the dull and distant sound of waves crashing in the background.

I blinked against the water trickling down my head and slowly felt myself return into earth. My father had scooped me into his arms, was staggering across the deck. I looked up and saw half the ship in ruins. Splintered wood littered the deck as the ship had wedged precariously against the jagged rocks of blackstone.

It wouldn't hold long. My father walked us up to the rocks before lifted me up high. I grabbed onto them, trying to cling as best I could. They were slick with seawater and rain, and my raw palms felt like they'd been set of flame when I touched them. I held fast and managed to jam my legs around the narrower crease. Once I was secure, my father scrambled up the rocks next to me,

keeping his eyes locked on my own. Not even a second later, the ship fell away from the island with a terrible groaning noise. I looked back just in time to see the remains of the mast slip beneath the waves. We were stuck. What happened next? They plunged there for a while, rocks being too steep and slick to try climbing. The headlights beam would pass over us every now and again, bathe on us in this blinding light.

Flashes of lightning streaked across the horizon, followed by a rolling echo of thunder. The rain had left me soaked and freezing. I started to shake and shiver against the rock. terrified about losing my grip. It only got worse as the waves began to creep higher. I could feel them licking at my feet and realize that if we stayed there,

they'd eventually reach over my head. I looked to my father as a streak of lightning lit up his face. He didn't say a word, but I knew what he was thinking. We had to climb. He reached out first. grabbing a ledge right above his head. I followed suit, trying my best to mimic his movements. We managed to gain a few feet,

but even this felt like a Herculean task. My hands and feet couldn't find purchase against the slick stone, and my body felt too weak after the crash. I lost my grip for a moment and almost fell into the waves. My father grabbed my wrist before I could fall too far. and hauled me up to his position. I scrambled for a grip on the ledge. Just as I found a firm hold,

the entire island shook. It felt like the boat crash all over again. By some miracle, I managed to hold on. My father, who'd been using one hand to keep me steady, didn't. I never saw him fall, only turning my head after I heard. the splash. The water was so dark, I could only see the bright orange of his coveralls as he sank

beneath the surface. I don't remember my reaction at the time. I think I was too numb, too tired, too shell-shocked for anything dramatic. But I do remember what happened next. As I stared down at the water, lightning struck nearby, lighting up. the sky and ocean. Moving beneath the waves was a silhouette. So massive, it defies explanation. I couldn't hazard an estimate at its length. Long and serpentine, it stretched out past my vision. Even from my vantage point, I couldn't make out its entire shape. What I did see and what haunts me to this day were the two glowing yellow circles I saw. saw at one end of it.

I only saw them once and for less than a second. But the hunger and malice I saw in them, my Lord, it's still... Jesus! Whoa, there, Roscoe. You snuck up on us. Did all that thunder outside start to scare you? Oh, Christ, Roscoe, you scared the hell out of me!

And Marv, I just, I had no idea what happened after all of that. I held myself against the rock for the rest of the night. It seemed to last in eternity, but I somehow managed to cling for life. A fishing boat found me the next morning after the storm had abated. They never recovered my father's body. I'm so sorry, that's just that thing you saw. Did you ever... Never saw it again.

And don't be sorry. This was ages ago. I've had my time to grieve. Okay, okay, it's just... That silhouette, or whatever it was you saw? What exactly do you think it was? Haven't the faintest, sadly. I have looked for it on occasion.

Naturally, I didn't go out on the ocean for some time after that night, but after taking over here, I used my first paycheck for a down payment on a small skiff. Mostly for fishing, but I'd be lying if I say I didn't sometimes cruise around the bay, looking for the same shadow I saw that night. Okay, but do you have any idea what it was, like a whale or maybe a wreck or something? Seem a little worked up about this. Is everything all right? Yes, of course. It's just, I mean... I think I know what you're talking about.

What? You've heard about this thing before? Not heard. Seen. What? When? Where? How did you see? It's... I don't know how to explain it. It's really weird. I don't think I've ever talked to anyone else about this. Well, I've got the time. It's not like I won't believe you. I guess you're right. I just don't like bringing it up. Even when the people who were there, it's not exactly a good memory.

So few ever are. You've got that right. All right, this was all about two years ago when I was still going for my master's. The story is actually the main reason I ended up dropping out. God, it feels so much longer than that. Anyways, at the beginning of the semester, they were offering credit hours for this tagging expedition. two weeks on the ocean, tagging right whales for an ongoing migration study. They needed about 10 students to fill out the crew. It was the university's research vessel, so they'd be covering food and lodging,

but the position itself wasn't paid. Normally, that would have been a deal breaker for me, but my boyfriend at the time, Tom, he was super enthusiastic about it. Kept calling it a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and talked about the romance of the open sea. Eventually he wore me down. Tom was a bold kind of guy. Always curious.

Always looking for an event or adventure. Never thinking before doing. I'm sure you know the type. I've met a few. Well, he wore me down. And in two weeks' time, we were shoving off from the marina and out into the bay. The expedition was mostly in deeper, waters, a few miles off the coast at least, but we'd return to the bay every so often.

This was my first time out to sea for an extended period of time, and it certainly felt that way. I spent my first few days trying to get work done in between puking sessions and dizzy spells. It got better after that. I even got to pin a tag towards the end of the first week. You know, you always hear about how big whales are because, you know, they're whales. see them up close. Those things are friggin' massive. Tom loved everything about the trip. The sea, the whales, teasing me about my seasickness.

He just seemed so alive and energized. It was infectious. I didn't even care that I could barely keep my food down. I was having the time of my life. It didn't last, obviously. What happened? We'd been out there for, I think, nine days at that point. Tagged probably two dozen whales.

I don't remember the specific numbers. Anyways, our faculty advisor had been monitoring their motion, because why not? And noticed that one whale hadn't dove below the surface in over 24 hours. She concluded that the whale had likely died and was just floating along with the waves. We decided to go back and retrieve the tag, figuring there was no use in wasting the equipment. The whale was floating almost five miles out from the bay, and it took us about a half a day to sail back. I was below deck when someone else spotted it. They started yelling above me, and I heard stamping feet echoing down the hall.

Tom came running past me and told me to follow him. He scrambled up on deck and saw a crowd of people piling around the railing on the port side of the bow. I moved to the side and squinted out at the horizon. Sitting in the water was a large lump, probably about half a mile from where we were. It looked like a dark blob, nothing really distinct about it. I was wondering what all the commotion was about. Then I noticed the water. Even as far out as we were, I could still see the water surrounding the lump.

Died a deep, rich scarlet. The whale hadn't just died. It had been eviscerated. There were organs just scattered across the water. Intestines, muscles, half of its very much open stomach. Even at half a mile out, I could smell it. Jesus Christ, the smell of it. I'm almost tearing up just thinking about it.

My God, that's something else. I'm not doing it justice. This poor animal had been torn to pieces. Its back half was entirely ripped away. We couldn't see it anywhere. Only its head and right fin escaped the carnage and not unscathed. Deep gouges ran down the remains of its body. Most of the blood having dried and crusted over.

This animal had died the most violent way I can think of. What did you all do? Well, there wasn't any chance of us finding the tags in the carnage, and a few people were already getting sick from the smell. so we made the unanimous decision to head back out to deeper waters. I went back to my bunk and tried getting some work done, but just ended up staring at my Excel sheet until my eyes glazed over. I couldn't get the whale out of my head.

Like, what the fuck could do that to something that big? Not just killing it, but eviscerating it. Was it an animal, a machine, or submarine or something? Was it still out in the water? I mean, Jesus. After a few hours, all I ended up accomplishing was giving myself a stress headache, so I decided to at least try and eat something. Sight and smell had mostly faded from my immediate memory,

and I felt like I'd finally be able to stomach food. Tom was already sitting at the back of the mess hall with two of our friends when I got there. Four of us talked for a bit while I picked at my food. Danny and Michelle both seemed to be feeling the same as me but Tom was downright giddy about what we'd seen Really? It's just That's who he was

Every thought that drove me crazy with worry Just seemed to excite him Where I saw a monster lurking below the waves He saw an undocumented animal just waiting to be discovered He wasn't He wasn't malicious or anything, just enthusiastic. Honestly, in situations other than that one, it was kind of infectious. It's one of the reasons I started hanging out with him when we first met.

Becca, you know, we don't have to keep going if you don't want it. No, I'm good. I just... I don't really like talking about this much. It's probably good to get it out, honestly. I think that's what the old say-in's about, right? Better out than in? Yeah, no. I'm sure that's what that means. Anyways, the four of us talked a bit at dinner, but it went just like I said. Danny Michelle and I were all freaked out about it. Well, Tom kept trying to guess what type of animal it could be. I ended up barely eating and decided to turn in early.

Tom asked if I wanted any company, but I was just, just too exhausted for anything besides sleep at that point. I said good night, walked back to my bunk, and went to bed. Other nights I'd had trouble sleeping with the constant rocking of the boat, but that night I passed out almost instantly. It didn't last.

I'm not sure how late. But in the middle of the night, I woke up to this awful high-pitched scraping sound. I sat, bolt upright, whipped my head around, trying to figure out what was making the racket. The boat showed. and shuddered with the noise, completely out of sync with its usual swaying in the waves.

The screeching noise came again, louder this time, and causing the whole ship to lurch to the side. I braced myself against the wall of my bunk and could feel my stomach royal with the movement. After a second, the boat's movement slowed, and I managed to stagger to my feet and get out into the hallway. A few people were already out there yelling and asking what the hell was happening. Most looked like they'd just left out of bed, same as me. The ship lurched a few more times before one of the faculty advisors came rushing down the hall screaming for us to follow her to the top deck.

I couldn't hear everything she said over the yelling of the crowd, but I distinctly heard the words, Life Raft and Evacuate. My Lord. I followed the crowd up to the top deck. The air was cold outside, but the sky looked clear. And the seas were calm as ever.

I was staring out over the side railing when I suddenly felt his hand grab at my shoulder. It was Tom. He pulled me off to the side and started bombarding me with questions. What's going on? Did you hear that scraping noise? Why are we evacuating? Kept telling him, I didn't know, over and over. This sudden look of understanding just flashed across his eyes while I was speaking.

It seems obvious in hindsight. but he must have put two and two together about what was happening before me. He told me to wait that he needed to grab some equipment from his bunk. I yelled after him to stop, but he sprinted back down the stairs before I could even finish my sentence. My advisor began yelling from the other side of the deck, gathering everyone else around her, directing them towards life rafts bobbing in the water next to the ship. People started freaking out, asking why we were evacuating.

In the commotion, the ship shook again. even more violently than before. This stopped all the questions. Everyone raced towards the ladders to get to the rafts, pressing me forward along with the crowd. I tried to find Tom in the throng of people, hoping he'd come back up. Before I could spot him, Michelle grabbed at my hand and got me to follow her down the ladder. I found myself in a raft with about ten other people, but no Tom. What happened?

At first, nothing. We all just sat around on the raft waiting for someone to tell us what was actually happening. I was freaking out, obviously, but Michelle kept trying to reassure me that Tom must have come back up. A few people had loaded on the rafts after us. He must have been one of them. Every minute or so, the ship would lurch in the water with this loud, hollow thumping noise. It was only from seeing it at a distance. that I came to the same realization that Tom had on the ship.

Whatever was doing this, it had to have been the same thing that attacked the whale. It's the only thing that made sense. Finally, after a few minutes of us floating around aimlessly, one last shutter tore through the ship, almost managing to knock it onto its side. As the hull reared up past the water? I saw this massive gaping hole had been running. ripped down its center. Water poured into the tear and the ship began rapidly sinking below the

waves. Coming from other rafts, a few people on our own, we began desperately paddling away from the boat with a pair of emergency doors. But cutting through all this noise, I heard Tom's voice, sounding like it came from right behind me. Come on, just let me get a look at you. I looked around trying to hear where the noise came from. He wasn't there. The voice came again, the same words, the same tone. Come on. Just let me get a look at you.

Sure, it was his voice? 100%. It wasn't just me either. Michelle, a few other people could hear it too. To God, it's like he was right there. Come on, just let me get a good look at you. The voice came a few more times, but stopped as the ship finally sank beneath the way. As it did, I saw something else in the water, lit up by the submerged lights of the sinking ship.

The same thing you did, I think. The long black silhouette and the two massive eyes. This kicked off another round of screaming and panicked rowing, only for the shape to dip out of sight. Back into the depths. Well, what did you... Someone radioed. for help. Coast Guard found us a few hours later. It took a headcount as they loaded us onto the rescue ship. They only confirmed what I'd feared. Tom hadn't been on any of the rafts. He was the

sole fatality of the incident. I'm so sorry. It's all right. I dropped out a week later, and you kind of know the story from there. Bummed around my parents' house for a bit. worked the front counter at Delia's clam bar. Then I got the job here. I never got any additional information about that night. The University and Coast Guard were both tight-lipped whenever I tried emailing them. I still text with Michelle, I guess,

but it's not like either of us is something getting correct the case. I just got no idea what happened that night. The creature, the voice. Nothing. I might know something about the voice. What? Well, I shouldn't say I know something about it, but I believe I heard my father's voice the night we wrecked on Blackstone. After he'd fallen in the water.

I'd always assumed I'd been hallucinating, but I heard my father's last words repeated several times while I clung to that rock, clear as I heard them when he was next to me. Jesus, I don't think I've ever told anyone this. Not even my mother. Oh, my God, Marv, that's... I'm so sorry, but just hearing the same thing happen as someone else, I don't want to call it a relief, but like, I don't know, I guess validating would be the word.

Ha, ha, ha, yeah, I understand. I felt the same thing hearing you tell your story, to tell the truth. A lifetime spent thinking I was a crazy person. Well, it'll be nice to have some company at the loony bin, at least. What do you think it is? The monster, the voices, any of it. Like I said earlier, I haven't the faintest, although not for lack of trying. I've thought about that night almost every day of my life, but I've never been able to find anything else similar to it. Not from sailing, not from research, not anywhere. A few old texts down at the historical society have accounts of sailors raving about this or that sea dragon or ghost, but tall tales like

that are a dime a dozen. Tonight's the first time I've ever heard anyone else have an experience so similar to my own. Do you think that... Dancin Marlin, this is the Wilson Bay headlight. Dale, do you copy? Over. Where are you? Have you gotten a hold of the Coast Guard channel? Over. This is a bowling ball. Hold tight. I'll try them on the landline.

Becca, check the window. See if you can spot them. On it. The line's dead. Becca, are you seeing anything? Hold on. The light's just passing over. There. I got a visual. It looks like they're just north of Blackstone, but drifting towards it. Damn it. Dale, the landline is out, and it's looking like you're drifting into Blackstone.

I don't know what's still working on the Marlin, but you've got to do whatever you can to stop from hitting it. Do you hear me, Dale? That rock is death. Dale? Becca, what's happening? They're shit. They've hit it. The ship's smashed up against the rocks, and Oh, Jesus, it's there. It's fucking there. That thing, I can see it moving below the water. God damn it, Dale.

I don't know if you're getting this, but you and your boys need to scramble up those rocks. You hear me? We'll send out a rescue as soon as we can, but you all need to hang in there. Becca, we need to get someone out there fast. You stay here and monitor the radio. I'm going to head down.

Marve, we got a situation. Something scraping up against the hall. I got... What the hell? Dale, are you still there? You've got to... Shit, shit. Marv, we got a situation.

Something scraping up against the hall. I got... No. No, no, no, no, no. Jesus. Please not... It's okay, baby. It's okay.

Daddy, he's scaring the shift. We're going to be... We just have to hold off. We just have... Come on. No, she... Don't do all you three, not your pain. They fall down there, on those are phones.

Come, bottom. Goddammit, you need to watch your grip. These rocks are slitter than heaven, but we have to hold fast. Pleads us. You need to hold. Dear Lord. Mark, is that? Goddammit, you need to watch your grip.

These rocks are slitter than heaven, but we have to hold fast. Oh Lord. Oh, Lord. Oh, Lord. What the fuck? What the fuck? Marf, seriously. What the fuck?

Just let me get a good look. Damn it. Is it fucking with us? Taunting us? What the fuck is this thing? I don't... It doesn't matter. We have to do something.

The road's a slick. But if we can get down to the Coast Guard station, Maybe we could... Mark, we got a situation... Something scraping up against the hall. I got... I got... I got...

Marv. If we're hearing his voice... ...oh dear Lord. Shit. ...shed... ...Mare we got a situation. Something scraping up against the hall. I got...

I got... ...I got... ...we got a situation... ...something scraping up against the hall. I got... ...got... ...got a situation... ...some scraping up against the hall.

...I got... ...I got... ...M... ...M... ...we got a situation... And the light of dawn approaches. 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 price. 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.