The NoSleep Podcast - S20: NoSleep Podcast Waiting for Season 21 - Part 2

Episode Date: April 14, 2024

We’re taking the month of April to get ready for Season 21. We have three tales from Season 20’s Premium episodes to keep you sleepless. “The Fireplace” written by Andrew Perkins (Story starts around 00:02:20) Produced & scored by: David Cummings Cast: Narrator – Mike DelGaudio, Wife – Mary Murphy “Grandma’s Funeral” written by RenÈ Rehn (Story starts around 00:10:40) Produced by: Phil Michalski Cast: Mark – Jeff Clement, Dad – Dan Zappulla, Uncle Thomas – Atticus Jackson, Grandma – Mary Murphy “Temple of the Satyr and the Nymph” written by Lisel Jones (Story starts around 00:21:05) Produced by: Jesse Cornett Cast: Laurel – Penny Scott-Andrews, Giles – David Ault, Kayli – Ash Millman, Documentarist – Andy Cresswell This episode is sponsored by: ShipStation – ShipStation makes it super easy to manage and ship all your online orders faster, cheaper and more efficiently. Keep growing your business all year long with ShipStation. Use promo code NOSLEEP today at shipstation.com to sign up for your FREE 60-day trial. Green Chef – Green Chef makes eating well easy with plans to fit every lifestyle. Whether youíre Keto, Paleo, Vegan, Vegetarian, Gluten-Free, or just looking to eat more balanced meals, Green Chef offers a range of recipes to suit your preferences. Go to greenchef.com/nosleep65 and use code nosleep50 to get 50% off plus 20% your next two months! Click here to learn more about The NoSleep Podcast team Click here to learn more about Andrew Perkins Executive Producer & Host: David Cummings Musical score composed by: Brandon Boone “Waiting for 21” illustration courtesy of Alexandra Cruz Audio 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.

Brace yourself for the No Sleep Podcast. Welcome to the No Sleep Podcast, waiting for Season 21, hiatus special Redux Part 2, The Reckoning. I'm your host, David Cummings. As we ramp up for Season 21, we're working hard behind the scenes to bring you a new season of terrifying tales. And as our sleepless listeners, it's important to stay in shape during the off-season, so don't forget to do your stretches so you're nice and limber. That way you'll be able to fully and safely brace yourself. And I don't do this as often as I should, so I want to remind you all of how important it is to us to get things like positive reviews on podcasting platforms and for you to

follow us on the socials. You might think that after almost 13 years of no sleep, the reviews don't matter much anymore. Well, that is not true. There are more platforms you can rate and review us on, they all help raise our visibility on the ever-crowded podcast listings these days. So if you can spare a minute to throw some stars our way and share what you like about the No Sleep podcast, we would be ever so grateful. And we remain active on all the socials, like Instagram, Twitter, or whatever it's called these days, Facebook, and even TikTok. I've been working hard on all the hottest TikTok dance crazes these days, so you don't want to miss seeing me bust a move. and shake my booty.

What, what's that? Hold on. Oh, I've just been told that we likely can't post my dance videos on TikTok. That's a shame. Ah, well, who am I to go against the strict no full frontal nudity restrictions on these prudish platforms? Regardless, follow us where you hang out, and we'll do our best to bring some sleepless fun your way.

So enjoy the stories, sleepless friends, and don't miss the next two weeks as we bring you some of our sleepless decompositions. They're frightfully good. In our first tale, we deal with some strange neighbors. Now, having bad neighbors on your street or right next door or in your apartment building can be bad enough. But if you find you're sharing your home with uninvited guests, well, that's just too much. And in this tale, shared with us by author Andrew Perkins, We meet a man who makes a bizarre discovery about people in his house.

Even stranger, where he finds them. Performing this tale are Mike Delgado and Mary Murphy. So check the basement, the attic, the shed. They could be anywhere. Even in the fireplace. There's something living in my fireplace. The ancient thing hasn't worked since we moved in. and I imagine it's been decades since a real flame scorched the insides of the cinder-block chimney.

Although the blackened space where the logs once rested is evidence that it did indeed once upon a time burn red and orange. Now the only sign of life coming from the old fireplace is an occasional spider emerging from the cobweb-laden hearth. That was, of course, until I started hearing the noises. I started hearing the strange sounds at night while the house lay quiet. I could hear the low murmurs as I crept down the stairs. Each night, however, as I reached the landing where the living room table became visible, the noises disappeared. Whatever was making the noises clearly knew when I was coming

and made good to quiet each time I attempted to approach it. Last night, however, I took the stairs from our master's door. sweet balcony instead of the main interior staircase to investigate the noise. I neared the living room window in anticipation to catch the night disturber in action, only to bump my forehead on the window before I could peer inside. Cursing at my stupidity, I quickly used my hands as a tent and glared through the window. I was just about to settle for another night of unanswered questions when I noticed the tiniest movement on the fireplace stoop. It quickly leapt up into the cobwebs of the hearth. It was so small and quick, I almost thought it was a mouse. Until at the last second,

I caught a glimpse of something that I swear stopped the world. Tiny pair of legs. Struggled to get through the dense webbing. A tiny pair of legs wearing pants, attached to a tiny pair of feet wearing shoes. There was a tiny pair of feet wearing shoes. There was no mistaking it, there was at least one tiny human living in the fireplace. I could hardly sleep the rest of the night. My mind raced with thoughts of the impossible creatures that lived in our fireplace. The next morning, I called in sick to work. Once my wife and kids had left for the day, I hesitantly, but excitedly, approached the fireplace. I crept quietly to the stoop and used my fingers to create an opening in the cobwebs. Once I had torn enough of the webbing apart to see what

lay beyond the hearth, I couldn't believe my eyes. Behind the hearth, I could see several small blankets and pillows scattered about. Unable to contain my curiosity, I pulled out my phone and entered video mode. I stuck the end of the phone through the webs and rotated it several times. I pulled the phone out and hastily hit the play button. It was absolutely a higher sleeping village of minuscule people at the back in the fireplace. There were too many to count. There were small tables, chairs, benches, and beds. They clearly weren't modern humans.

If I had to guess, I'd say they resembled the early settlers in appearance. I watched the video over. Trying to make sense of what I was seeing was that I had a call. It was around 4 p.m. when I shook the man's hand before. before he got back in his van and drove off. I had to hurry. My wife would be home with the kids soon. I raced to the living room and reached my hand up to the mantle, searching.

Once I had found what I was looking for, I knelt beside the fireplace stoop. As soon as I had finished, the front door opened, and the kids ran in to give me a hug. I looked up to see my wife enter the house. She flashed a huge smile. You fixed the fireplace. I smiled back as I raised the lighter to the gas line of the fireplace. It hadn't taken the fireplace repairman long to find the hidden shut off in the basement. It took two clicks of the lighter and the fireplace roared back to life.

I slid the glass doors closed and stepped back to admire its beauty. I pulled my family in close to appreciate the new life we had. given the old fireplace. The excited chatter of my children almost massed the sounds of tiny fists pounding on glass and the almost indiscernible screams that lay beyond it.

When an older person passes away, a person who had a long life and a big family, well, it's usually a sad occasion, but one where the deceased can be celebrated and remembered fondly. And then, well, there's old granny. You see, in this tale, shared with us by author René Rain, we meet a family who just lost their matriarch. And everyone is thrilled by that.

Performing this tale are Jeff Clement, Dan Zapula, Atticus Jackson, and Mary Murphy. So put away those hankies. No tears will be shed when you attend Grandma's Funeral. When Grandpa died, everyone cried. When Grandma died, everyone smiled. Grandma's a goddamn bitch. Dad used to curse about her. No one ever said anything against his words that so defiled his mother.

He was right, though. Grandma was a mean old woman. That's something everyone agreed on, even her husband, my late grandpa. I still don't know how he ended up with her, considering that he was the nicest and jolliest man I ever knew. Grandma was his total opposite. She wasn't just a stern old lady, but a sadistic one. She enjoyed beating her children and her grandchildren.

That's why I could never visit her and Grandpa. I remember going there on my own one day. Grandpa led me inside, but told me I couldn't stay for long. I still remember her how she looked at me that day, the enormous grin on her face, the vile word she whispered my way, and how her hands opened and closed in anticipation. Grandpa pushed me back towards the front door,

telling me it wasn't a good time. When I protested, he told me he'd get me a little present. The moment he left or returned to his living room, Grandma rushed towards me. Oh, little Mark, how nice of you to visit. Why don't you come in? and spend some time with your grandma. With that, she pulled my arm.

Pulled it so hard I thought she'd rip it off. I struggled, but one slap was enough to break all the resistance I could muster. Thankfully, I never found out what she'd planned for me. Grandpa stormed back into the hallway when he heard my cries. At that moment, Grandma grinned at both me and her husband before she let go of me.

As I hid behind my grandpa, I was prepared for him to yell at her, but he didn't say a single thing. Grandpa was a huge man, a hard man. But in front of his wife, he seemed to be as scared as I was. He didn't move, didn't say a word until she was gone, vanished down the hallway. He handed me my little present and told me to never come back to their home. The moment I was outside, I looked back once, and there she was again. at the back of the hallway, staring at me with her wide, reddish eyes, grinning.

Even back then, even at only nine years old, I knew there was something different about her, something evil. Grandpa died a year ago. His funeral had been big. He was well known in town and well liked by everyone. Grandma's funeral, on the other hand, had been small, nothing more than a family of fair. There'd been only me, mom, dad, and Uncle Thomas. It was no surprise we were the only ones there. When I left the house, Dad and Uncle Thomas were already talking, cursing at one another for

having to go through this entire ordeal. We might as well burn her here and now and be done with it. Uncle Thomas spat on the ground. And what about the neighbors? What if it? Dad broke off when he noticed me and mom. Uncle Thomas spat again. All right. You have something in mind? Dad nodded and entered the car. Even as a boy, I knew something was wrong

when I saw the dirty old coffin in the back of Uncle Thomas's giant pickup truck. Mom pushed me into the back row, gently but determined. Once we'd all taken our seats, Uncle Thomas started the truck and we were on our way. When I noticed we didn't drive towards the church, I was confused. Aren't we going to the church? No, son.

Your grandma doesn't belong there anymore. But dad? I started, but was quiet when Mom grasped my shoulder. As I sat at the back of the car, I thought back to the last time I'd seen Grandma and shuddered. It had been a few nights ago. I was woken up by some noise outside, and when I looked towards the window, I saw her out there. She held on to the window frame with her long, spidery fingers, grinning at me as she pressed her face against the glass. I screamed in terror,

but when mom and dad came into the room, she was already gone. Not for long, though, because the night after, she was back, sneaking around the house and scratching on the walls before she vanished again. As I sat in my seat, I listened, afraid I'd hear her scratch against the wood of the coffin in the back of the truck. The drive lasted no more than half an hour, but it felt much, much longer. Everyone was strained. Everyone was afraid.

Dad held onto the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white. Uncle Thomas, next to him, smoked one cigarette after another. When we stopped, it was in the middle of nowhere, far out of town and on an old dirt road. Dad and Uncle Thomas were the first to leave the car.

They both went to the back and got a shovel each. Right here? Dad nodded. The two of them started to dig, panting and wheezing as they worked on the hole. It took them more than an hour before they were done with it. All the while, Mom stood next to me, holding onto my hand while eyeing the dirty old coffin behind us. Finally, Dad and Uncle Thomas got a hold of it and carried it towards the hole. They'd only made it halfway

When the coffin in their hands Started shaking and rattling Mom next to me screamed and cringed Quick son The hammer, the nails They threw the coffin on the ground Pushed themselves onto the top And held onto it for dear life

While the vile curses of Grandma sounded from below When I handed them the supplies They hammered the nails into the top of the coffin sealing it shut It was still rattling and shaking when they pushed it into the hole, and still when they closed it up. You think this will work? Dad nodded, and I did too, but no one was sure.

Mom stood next to me and prayed, and soon everyone else joined her. Not for Grandma, but to whatever God was out there. Because this wasn't Grandma's first funeral. And we all prayed that this time she wouldn't come back. In our final tale, we meet a woman who has started a new job at a home for the elderly. The place is lovely with large grounds and gardens. But in this tale, shared with us by author Lyselle Jones, she soon discovers a part of the grounds that at first appear to be abandoned.

That is, until she meets the handsome gardener. Performing this tale, are Penny Scott Andrews, David Alt, Ash Millman, and Andy Cresswell. So remember, old gods aren't always dead gods, especially when you enter the temple of the Seder and the Nymph. Warm Hope Hall was very different to care homes where I'd worked previously. It was much classier for a start. A former manor house deep in acres of Parkland near the England Wales border.

It had a classier clientele to polite, mainly undemanding retirees who could afford to pay more per week for the hall's rather dated facilities than I'd earned in a month. Moving there had been a major life change. I was 31, single, both treading water and trodden down at my old job in the Midlands. I went through a phase of rushing into things, attempting a spontaneous knew me to escape a rut. That mindset might partly explain the sinister situation I got myself into at the hall, I suppose.

Anyway, what really sold the job was the free accommodation, with its lovely rural views and its lovely paid-for utilities. Our staff were also welcome to use the hall's expansive gardens. Thought it be the closest I'd ever get to my dream of owning a place than the country. On the downside, Dorm Hope was literally in the middle of nowhere, which was crap as I didn't have a car and public transport was spotty. You find out who your friends are when they've got to drive two hours to see you. The girls I worked with were okay, but a little younger and we didn't have much in common. I mean, I tried to join in, but nights out in a market town's only club

getting grinded against by cider-soaked yokels wasn't my idea of fun anymore. So I ended up rather lonely and isolated, to be honest. Roaming the hall's grounds by myself became a highlight. That's how I met Giles. Sunset gave the gardens a mysterious feel, heightened by the eerie cools of the resident peacocks and the long shadows cast by the poplars. The day's warmth lingered, and I hazily wandered to a part of the property I hadn't been to before, behind an old greenhouse that smelled of rotting apples.

There was a dusty brick wall that I followed to an open iron gate. Inside, crumbling, overgrown flagstones surrounded a long rectangular pool. Withered lilies floated on its green-brown water. Spooky. I said to myself as I said to myself as I... entered. The inner walls were lightly blackened, as if they'd been burnt long ago. At the far end, there was a raised stone structure with a triangular roof supported by vine-coiled pillars, one of those replica classical temples often found in country estates. For a moment, I thought there

were people inside. Then I realized they were statues. Up close, I could see how deteriorated the temple was. A freeze under its cracked roof depicted some sort of feast, but were so weather-worned that the diners looked like absurd monsters cavorting. As I set foot in the dingy interior, a dangling creeper brushed my head, stroked me. I tried to shrug off the uneasy feeling and approached the statues. There were two engraved slabs on the floor in front of them. One had a faded name and dates. Maybe the temple's...

was an elaborate pet cemetery? The statues themselves were choked with ivy and seemed to portray two figures, either embracing or fighting. The greenery hadn't reached the top of the taller one, revealing a carved head, crowned by wavy hair and a pair of stubby horns. You shouldn't be in here?

I turned around, startled. He was a commanding presence, tall and toned. His neck and arms were streaked with, dirt and really dark curls framed his chiseled face. A trimmed beard was the only tamed part of him. I was enchanted. Oh, I'm a carer at the hall. I was told we were allowed anywhere in the grounds, and the gate was open. I always ensure it's shut. I guess someone else must have... face cracked into a mischievous grin. I'm just messing with you, girl. It's no problem you being here, honestly.

He patted my shoulder. The combination of calling me a girl and his electrifying touch, let me forgive him for making me feel stupid. Oh, right. I replied, hoping I wasn't blushing. You've been working here long? Few weeks I thought I hadn't seen you around I wouldn't forget your face Was he coming on to me I looked away towards the statue

And some devil, ain't he? Sorry? This fella here He pretended to ruffle the figure's hair Well, not quite a devil The ancient Greeks called it a satire I've heard of those. Half-man, half-goat things. That's them. Free spirits who love the countryside, wine and women. Sounds a great life.

I couldn't help but return his smile. He glanced down at my wrist. Pretty bracelet, Laurel. Old birthday gift from my dad. Make sure I never forget my name. Very handy. Mine's Giles. Nice to meet you. You're living in one of them flats in the old stable block. I nodded. You too?

No, I've got my own place. It's not far. Whoa, was he suggesting something? Time to change the subject. So, what do you do? Ed Gardner. Been here a long time. I'm your man, if you're a long time.

ever need the pleasure grounds tending. His smile and raised eyebrow made the cheesy comment more sexy than creepy. Hmm, you haven't done a great job of this part? It's a project. Originally the walled garden where they grew vegetables for the estate, but the last Lord Dormhope converted it into this. He looked around and shrugged. Interesting character.

The current owners have plans, though, want to diversify, turn it into a wedding venue. That could work. What's going to happen to these statues? They're staying. This pair is guaranteed to inspire newlyweds. Just need a bit of rejuvenating, that's all. He wrapped a length of ivy from the lower figure around his hand. Holding my gaze, he ripped it away to expose a feminine bare shoulder and breast. I bit my lip, unsure what to say. It's getting dark.

Best be getting back. Was the best I could come up with. I was pleased to see a flicker of disappointment on his face. He touched my arm. So you're around then? We'll see. Back in the communal kitchen, I bumped into one of my housemates, Kaylee. You look happy tonight.

Are you feeling okay? I tried to rise above her snark. Met the head gardener. He's rather nice, isn't he? Ew, that old guy. Come on. He's only late 30s, I'd say. Really?

I can't tell. Guess that's not so old for you, though. I persevered with the small talk. He told me that owners are planning to make a wedding venue in the garden. That'll be exciting, won't it? She shrugged and dumped coffee from her mug into the sink. Heard nothing about that. Anyway, some of us got a night shift to do.

After finishing my lentil curry, I returned to my room with a couple of mini bottles of wine. My encounter with Giles was on my mind, and, after failing to find any profiles for him online, I looked into the walled gardens history. Turned out, he wasn't exaggerating when he said the historical owner was an odd character. I found a documentary that mentioned him. Lord Benjamin Dormhope III was one of the founders of the Rake Hell Symposia,

secretive gatherings that began during the 18th century. The attendees were rumoured to include noblemen, artists, poets and magicians, fascinated by ancient Greek, mythology who saw themselves as modern-day saturns, indulging in wild Dionysian rites in the grounds of Dorm Hope Hall and the surrounding countryside. The members were plagued by scandalous accusations, including devil-worshipping and being responsible for the unexplained disappearances of young women who worked in the hall and nearby farms. Reports of the symposia ceased in 1822, following a mysterious fire in the hall.

Hall's former walled garden. Lord Dormhope and an unidentified companion perished in the blaze, which eventually led to the family's financial ruin and the sale of most of the estate. Other search results included a portrait of Dorm Hope, a bold patch outshone strands of wiry hair. His bearded cheeks were red, complimenting the drunken expression in his eyes.

Weirdly attractive. In a depraved, aristocratic way, though. I decided I'd had enough wine and put down my phone. My bracelet wasn't on my arm. I patted the bed, scoured my room and the kitchen. Must have fallen off. Wasn't the first time that had happened. I last saw it whilst talking with Giles.

I'd have to retrace my steps. I peered out the wind. It was late and drizzling, but I didn't want to risk losing it forever. Sying, I put on my coat and ventured out. The full moon shone through the cloud, so I didn't need a torch. I kept my eyes to the ground, hoping to spot the bracelet. But no luck. I ended up all the way back at the walled garden.

It was even creepier at night, and the peacocks and owls didn't lighten. the mood. Rain patted on the pool. Reflected moonlight shimmered and danced all around the walls. I stopped. Something was moving in the temple. I squinted, unsure whether it was a trick of the light. But no, there was definitely something. Someone in there, a shirtless man. He was kneeling, facing away. Curdy black hair Giles, what the hell was he doing? I wavered between fear and curiosity Between fear and titillation, if I'm honest.

I slipped into a shadowy recess to watch secretly. His skin looked pale, almost grey in the moonlight. Beads of rainwater or sweat roll down his muscular back. He mumbled breathlessly as his right hand moved rhythmically. Oh my God. Was he? His other hand slapped and groped the rear of the ivy-clad statue, and he plunged his face into a mass of the leaves halfway down it.

Excitement and fear kept battling inside me. His heaving became more frantic. I sensed he was about to finish what he was doing and might see me. My panic doubled when I realized something else. There was only one statue in there with him. I turned to leave, then screamed. What are you doing here?

Giles stood between me and the gate. I backed away. How did you get there? Working late, getting this place ready for the renovations a priority. I rubbed my. eyes. Saw you in the temple. Now I was taking ivy cuttings to the disposal heap. Been tidying them statues. They're not in bad shape. Have a look. He switched on his flashlight and pointed it towards the temple. Nobody there. But the ivy had been removed from the top half of the satire.

Its bearded face was fixed with a horrible expression, somewhere between a snarl and a smile. Its hands reached for the other figure, which was definitely still present. Dorn I saw someone. I thought it was you. Probably just an illusion. The water causes weird reflections at night. He waved the beam over the temple and the pool. As I watched, the satyr's face rippled and snapped its teeth in my direction. See what?

Charles's face was filled with concern. Satter moved. He wrapped his arm around me. Felt so reassuring. I told you it's just the light. And that statue's dead creepy. Freaked me out at first too. Don't feel bad.

I guess so. I've been reading about this place and my head's full of satyrs and weird rituals. I had some wine too. That must be it. You're right. He moved to pull his arm away. Before I could stop myself, I'd put my hand on his.

Please don't go. Our eyes met. He leaned in, and we kissed under the moon. Spontaneous new me had found a stunning new boyfriend. Yes, after meeting him only once, and yes, after mistaking him for a weirdo with a statue fetish. Don't judge. It's been a while.

Behind the Jack the Ladd exterior, Jal seemed a lovely, sensitive guy. We enjoyed long walks, meals and drinks in quaint country inns, cozy evenings in his inherited cottage where he'd tell me all about the local area and history. We even shared the same dream. A simple, pleasurable life in the country, free from the pressures of modern life. As for sex, let's just say, insatiable was an understatement. I spent all the spare time my shift pattern allowed with him.

He'd warned me that our employers didn't approve of staff relationships, so we had to keep it quiet. We mainly met in places where people from the hall were unlikely to go, and stole the occasional treased and hidden corners of the grounds. The secrecy added to the intoxication, felt like we were in our own private world. It went well for weeks. We grew close.

Looking back, I can see we... He had issues. But at the same time, it felt different. Love is blind, or at least turns a blind eye when it suits. It became apparent. Jals was obsessed with the walled garden. He told me most of his time was taken up getting it ready for the remodeling, but didn't let me see.

said I had to wait until it was ready. Then one day, spontaneous new me, decided to surprise him. I was sunbathing on one of the private lawns that had a view of the gate, and I saw Giles enter. I was hoping he'd spot me, but I suppose he was focused on work. The sun was blazing, and I thought he could do with a cold drink, maybe something more. I took a lager from my cooler

And when I was sure no one was nearby I scurried over Giles stood in the temple Slowly peeling a vine from the statues He didn't look pleased to see me I closed the gate quietly Put my finger to my lips and waved the bottle That didn't make him any happier

Puzzled I sauntered over Okay Nobody saw me Everyone's busy making sure the oldies don't get a heat stroke. I offered him the drink. I thought I'd told you not to come here to I'm ready. I know. I just thought...

I trailed off as I looked around. My heart jumped. My scalp tensed. The garden hardly looked any different from the last time I'd seen it weeks before. The flagstones remained overrun with weeds. The filthy pool still crammed with withered plants. What had Giles been doing all this time? He noticed my confusion and gave an odd grin.

Well, seeing as you're keen, have a look at this. It's fascinating. He took my hand and pulled me up the temple steps rather forcefully. Most of the ivy had been removed from the statues. The satyr still wore that sickening half. smile and stood on goat-like legs, its brutish hand gripping the female figure's wrists. She was bent backwards in a struggle, flowing hair hanging down, floral headdress dislodged. Her flimsy robe was torn. The carvings were intricate, but worn or fire damaged in parts,

especially the female's face, which only had vague features. I appreciate the craftsmanship, but it's pretty sinister. Can't imagine anyone wanting that in their wedding photos. Giles smiled and ran his hand over the female's cheek. She reminds me of you, little nymph.

Something about his voice. The way he was caressing the figure urged me to leave. I should let you get on. Text you later, yeah? I turned to go. He grabbed my wrist and spammy back round. Don't you see there is any

He loosened his grip, but didn't release. Look, don't you see? I pulled my arm free. No, what's wrong with you? He just glared back. What the hell have you been doing in here? Hardly anything's changed. Why would you lie to me?

He held my gaze. What do you mean? Can't you see? He placed his hands on my shoulders and turned me to face the garden. I've weeded. Planted all those new flowers. Replenished the pool. It was right.

The garden had been transformed. It burst with colour from fresh blooms and terracotta vases. Flagstones were flawless. The pool gleamed with clear blue water. He kissed my neck. It's all right. It's baking. Maybe you're the one with the touch of heat stroke.

Causes confusion, you know. I felt dizzy and nauseous. I guess so. He kissed me again. Slid his hand down my arm and took the bottle from my hand. Thanks for this, darling. We'll arrange something for the weekend. Okay.

I shuffled towards the gate in a daze. I put that episode behind us and decided I just, stay away from the walled garden until Giles told me otherwise. It was a small sacrifice for all the good things in our relationship. Not only did I love him. I felt he helped me grow as a person. He taught me to see through all the rubbish that polluted the present day, to stop putting up with crap, to stay away from toxic people like Kaylee. Everything was great again for a while, until the visions of the temple began. The first one happened one evening in Giles's cottage.

I prepared a lovely mezzé and we were settling down to eat by candlelight. This looks delicious. And so do you. He smiled with that familiar glint in his eye. I was thinking we'd just have a quiet night. Finish the wine. See what's on telly. I've had such a tiring day.

He reached over. You can't be that. tired. I am actually. Been on my feet for hours. The room dimmed, leaving me alone with Giles in a darkened space. The walls had faded, became empty frames instead of solid partitions. Countryside sounds and frigid air washed over us.

Giles, what's happening? We're where we belong. He stood and walked away. You're going. I tried to get a little. up, so it fell backwards. Pillars sprouted from the ground. Giles stepped behind one of them. There was a grating noise above as a roof slid into place. I was in the temple or a version of it. It wasn't overgrown. The stones were untarnished. No statues. Just a hard, empty floor.

A wall-mounted torch weakly lit the change. It's crackling flame reflecting in the pool beyond. There's a grunt behind the pillar, followed by the clack of hooves. No reply. Then one side of a face slowly emerged. A hairy head topped with a short horn. A leering eye. The curve of a vicious smirk.

This saturn was no statue. My stomach spasmed at the unreal sight. It curled its filthy fingers around the pillar, stretched out one of its shaggy legs, and tucked its hoof on the floor before retreating with a rastly chuckle, as if playing a grotesque game of peekaboo. I attempted to push myself up,

but my hands and feet slipped like I was on ice. The satter. galloped to a closer pillar. There, it repeated its peekaboo hoof-tapping routine before running to an even nearer column. I could hear its aroused breathing, smell its feral stench as it waited. Something emerged from behind a column that wasn't a leg.

The wet tip of a long, disgusting. I almost wretched. The satyr thrust its freakish member in and out of you, grunting furiously. I tried to kick myself away backwards, but my feet kept sliding. It's sidestead from the pillar. I shriek and closed my eyes. Hans grabbed my shoulders, and I screamed again. Laurel, what's the matter?

Giles' voice sounded great. caring, comforting. I opened my eyes. I was back in his cottage. I fumbled for words. How did we get back? What do you mean? We haven't been anywhere.

You saw it, said we were there, where we belong. Child shook his head. That's what you said. We're where we belong. I didn't. You're okay? There was a smashed plate and a splat of split salad on the floor next to me.

I dragged my fingers down my face. Happened! You slipped and then started gibbering. Maybe you should cut down on the wine. He reached for my hand. I let him pull me up, then collapsed onto his shoulder and wept. That wasn't the last time I had visions of,

or visits to the temple. But they weren't really that frequent and only happened occasionally when I was alone with Giles. Something small could trigger it, maybe a trivial argument or mismatched mood. The familiar world would fade and would find ourselves there.

Sometimes the temple would be pristine, brightly painted, warmly lit by oil lamps, its atmosphere a timeless embrace. Other times it was menacing and isolated, just me pursued by the satyr. By now, you're probably thinking, why did she stay with this guy? I wish I knew. The thing was, when it was good, which was most of the time, it was great. The bad times didn't last long and seemed unreal afterwards.

I began doubting they even happened. and it seemed Giles was trying to help, giving rational-sounding explanations. More rational than accepting that we were actually being transported to the temple anyway, despite the occasional marks that left on me. But it kept niggling. Something wasn't right, couldn't be explained away. I reluctantly contemplated a break from Giles.

I was only brave enough to text him, but he seemed to sense what I was thinking. Myself, being so stressed. It's my job. Getting the garden ready's been hell. You can come see. Got a surprise for you, too. Excitement overcame me. My concerns waned.

What kind of surprise? I've decided I don't care who knows about us anymore. I've got plans to take us away forever. My heart lifted. I believed he was going to propose. I thought he'd hinted at that if he, few times. Oh,

M.G. What? I said a surprise. I replied with a barrage of kisses. The next couple of hours were spent excitedly getting prepared. I thought nothing could spoil my mood until I encountered Kaylee

on my way out of the bathroom. At last. Thought you were never coming out. All yours now. Oh, look at you. you. Go into somewhere nice. Maybe. She scowled. Hated being denied gossip material. Everyone knows you're fucking him, you know. Sorry? That handy man. B saw you together in the oak in Howardine the other weekend and Rachel said she'd seen you

disappear behind bushes with him more than once. Fuck off. Telling her to fuck off was satisfying, but not enough. Giles and me were going to get married and leave this place soon, so I let Rip. So what if we are? What's it to you? And he's head gardener, by the way, not a handyman, you ignorant bitch. Is that what he told you, is it? What do you mean? He's not the head gardener. That's old Barry. Don't you know anything? Maybe you would if you talk to people. Ignorant bitch. You're lying.

I'm not. Ask anyone. I really don't know what's happened to you, Laurel. I mean, you've always been a bit of a snob since you've got here, but you've changed. And not for the better. And I'm supposed to care what you think? Maybe you should. Me and the girls could have warned you about that job.

He's tried it on with most of us. Seeing them bruises on you too. You shouldn't let him do that, no matter how desperate you are. Fuck you, lying cow. You're just jealous. I stormed into my room and slammed the door. I was determined not to let her bring me down, pushed away the doubt she was trying to say.

This night was going to be the best of my life. The walled garden looked inviting in the mild twilight. Giles kissed me at the gate and pulled me inside. It was beautiful. Starlight sparkled in the crystal pool and tinted the walls purple black. My spirit leapt when I saw the temple. Not only had Giles laid out a picnic and twinkling lanterns.

He'd also covered the statues with a sheep. I believed he was being thoughtful because they upset me. He led me up the steps and presented me with a delicate white and red flower, weaving it into my hair. It's a dancing lady orchid. I grew it for you. The picnic was gorgeous, fresh breads and cheeses, fruits and wine. We laughed and talked excitement building inside me. Fantasies about engagement rings and moving somewhere idyllic together. swirled around my head.

Finally, Giles stood and held out his hand. With a racing heart, I let him pull me to my feet. It was like a dream, until he led me to the covered statues. This is what I wanted to show you. Our future. He let go of my hand and grasped the sheep. Confusion forked through my mind. Before I could speak, he yanked away the cover.

At first glance, the staffer. statues looked unchanged, frozen in their sickening struggle. Although something silvery hung near the nymph's hands, before I can make it out, Giles leaned down, pressed the side of his face against the satyrs, and mimicked its loathsome grin. Do you see? He tilted his head to look into my eyes.

The satas followed. I yelled, tried to run, but two pairs of cold, firm hands grabbed me. They slammed me against the nymph figure, screwed my head to look at her face. A stony version of myself stared back in terror. Giles snarled. His voice gruffly echoed by the satyr. This is where we're along. A hand forced my shoulder against the statue, as if trying to push me into it.

Another tore at my dress, another crushed my wrists. The lanterns exploded Flames raced around the temple Giles and the satyr mashed me against the stone Despite my efforts All around us Fire blazed and grew

Sounds emerged from it Laughter, jeers Screens Outlandish music assembled from Castanets and shrill flutes The gathering appeared Through the heat haze Half-naked men, young and old, lithe and large, all dancing wildly.

They tossed their heads adorned with fake horns, gyrated their hips to bob the huge wooden fallaces strapped their groines. Some chugged from bladders, others chased a terrified woman. It was a rape hell symposium. They chanted. The union of the satyr and the nymph. Two bodies for two centuries in the Elysian fields. Fire scorched my skin.

Hands kept crushing me onto the nymph. I twisted to look at Giles. He was alongside the satire. There's sweat-soaked bodies grating against each other in the heat. Sick, corroded my throat as I saw the satir fully lit for the first time. He painted man with sculpted horns tied round his head. I recognized his grimacing face. Lord Dormhope, Giles and Dormhope's voices overlapped again.

I glared at Dormhope in his ridiculous get-up, his wanton face, a fake, desperate man. That's all the satire was. I'm not your nymph. I tore my arm spray. It all disappeared. Felt quiet. The flames had gone.

The party had vanished. I lay next to a moving statues. Giles kneeled above me, dripping with sweat. I expected him to tell me I've been hallucinating, like you usually did. But he must have believed he was still at the symposium. Don't resist, nymph. He snapped his hand back over my wrists.

My instinct was to struggle, but I paused and looked at the statues. That's all they were. Statues? Carlished, lifeless stone. Giles smashed my hands onto the floor, and the symposium returned in a burst of flames. A nightmarish orgy in a cavern of hellfire. The fires blazed stronger. The music and debauchery raged uglier.

Giles alone held me down this time, his straining face shifting between his dorm hopes and the carved satyrs. There was a family resemblance. Despite the violence, I began to feel a sense of realization and clarity. They'd pop like bubbles in my mind. All the doubts I'd suppressed, the fakeness of the saturn, the things Kaylee had said, The object on the nymph's arm, I let Giles pull me into his world. All the efforts I'd made to play along. The lies were unmasked. Reality illuminated. The sights and sounds of the symposium fizzled out.

Giles' grip weakened. We were back in the empty temple. The night cool, Giles looked dumb, powerless. He let go and shifted off me. I got up and looked around. The temple and the garden were overgrown. The pool stagnant and polluted. The nymph's space was speechless, as it had been all along.

But my missing bracelet dangled from her arm. I unchained it and took it back. Laura! It's, I descended the steps. He made no attempt to stop me. I glanced back before walking out the gate. Giles knelt before the statues, pleading. I thought I did everything you wanted.

He pummeled his fists against the stone. Don't you work anymore! The satir gazed down sightlessly at him. Just a phony, graven image, a primitive relic that belonged in the past. 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 Kemp. Cornette. 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.

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