The NoSleep Podcast - S21 Ep7: NoSleep Podcast S21E07

Episode Date: June 16, 2024

It’s Episode 07 of Season 21. Ride the Sleepless Express into tales about jarring jobs.“One Boot in the Road” written by Molly James (Story starts around 00:03:20)Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Narrator – Wafiyyah White“The Rules – Instructions on How to Succeed at Cat Sitting” written by René Rehn (Story starts around 00:19:30)TRIGGER WARNING!Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Narrator – Atticus Jackson, Josh – Mike DelGaudio, Voice – Mary Murphy“Follow My Lead” written by Effie Jean (Story starts around 00:53:50)Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Narrator – Erin Lillis, Employee – Nichole Goodnight“Cremated Equal” written by Dominic Breeze (Story starts around 00:59:05)TRIGGER WARNING!Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Narrator – Andy Cresswell, Jack – James Cleveland“The Manager’s Special” written by Christopher Griess (Story starts around 01:13:40)Produced by: Jeff ClementCast: Narrator – Jeff Clement, Old Man – Mike DelGaudio, Customer – Graham Rowat“The Chaperone” written by Mattea Heller (Story starts around 01:33:40)TRIGGER WARNING!Produced by: Jesse CornettCast: Ms. Parker – Jessica McEvoy, Andre – Kyle Akers, Mike – Dan Zappulla, Ava – Danielle McRae, Sophia – Sarah Thomas, Nia – Nichole Goodnight, Jimmy – Matthew Bradford, Ms. Aldi – Mary Murphy, Ms. Denning – Marie Westbrook, The Bartender – Graham RowatThis 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.Click here to learn more about The NoSleep Podcast teamClick here to learn more about René Rehn Executive Producer & Host: David CummingsMusical score composed by: Brandon Boone“The Manager’s Special” illustration courtesy of Kelly TurnbullAudio 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.

All aboard. Tickets, please. Find your seats. The train will be departing shortly. You're aboard, the sleepless Express. A direct journey into the darkness of the night. There are no sleeping cars available on this train. On this journey, you will experience the horrors found within

the dark landscapes and endless black tunnels, you will hear things which will leave you frightened and disturbed. And remember, there will be no stops until the very end of the life. Brace yourself for the No Sleep Podcast. Welcome aboard the No Sleep Podcast. I'm your conductor, David Cummings. As we ride the Sleep. sleepless Express, you might be on your way to work. Ah, the daily grind, the old rat race, the 9 to 5 life that has slowly become the 8 to 6 battle, or perhaps the 7.30 till late slog. Yes, if you have one, you probably don't love it, but if you don't have one, you desperately want one. It's the love-hate relationship we have with our jobs. And in this day and age, with employment being harder to find, well at least jobs that pay decent wages with decent benefits, it can feel like being

employed as a horror story in and of itself. And for many people, the idea of having that one steady job, the career you can work at for many years with a sense of satisfaction seems sadly well out of reach. That's why a lot of people live in the realm of the gig economy, taking short-term work, freelancing, or just doing the odd jobs that put some cash in your pocket until you're you find the next gig. And if you're desperate enough, you might end up taking jobs that can be more than a little disturbing. In this episode, we meet people who are working at jobs that, well, sure, might earn them

some dough, but don't offer any fringe benefits. If anything, they offer fringe frights. So whether you're working from home or commuting to work right now, we can only hope This episode makes you feel just a little bit better about your job. That is, assuming your employment doesn't scare you to death. And now, the train is ready to depart. Your journey into the darkness begins now. In our first tale, we meet a woman who was going from job to job

until she landed one that seemed stable enough, working as a toll booth operator, on the night shift. And as we'll learn in this tale, shared with us by author Molly James, the job itself is fine. It's the thing she sees on her commute to the job

that makes her feel like something is afoot. Performing this tale is Wafia White. So they might seem trivial and common, but don't take it lightly if you see one boot in the road. When the recession hit, I took whatever job I could. Mom got me a secretarial job at a local dentist office, but I was fired for not being

organized enough. Dad got me a factory job, but I was laid off after two weeks because of downsizing. So when the Kansas Department of Transportation posted a job for a night shift toll operator, I couldn't say no. I got the job almost as soon as I submitted my application. The Goodland Hayes Toll Booth was a 20-minute drive from our family farm. Though it had two booths, it only required one worker. The eastbound booth was automated. My booths would eventually be automated too, but until they could scrape together the funds, they needed a night attended. They needed me, and I was happy to finally have a job. The only person who wasn't happy was my mother. She often scolded me over our hurried dinners that I was alone all night. As she worried the skin off her fingers in the scalding

dishwater, she reminded me how easy it would be for someone to whisk me away if they wanted to, and I'd be gone before sunrise. I scraped my peas off into the sink and reminded her that the booth had plenty of lights and plenty of cameras. Besides, I'd say as I slid my cyan sneakers on, I had Dad's knife with me. I wouldn't disappear without a struggle. I noticed the first boot after my first month of work. I usually didn't pay much attention as Dad drove, but as we went by Mile Marker 52, I couldn't help but stare.

A still-toe boot, caked in mud, leaned against the marker's steel stem. For a brief moment, I saw it. I could pick out the individual cracks that ran up the toe to the calf. It must have been baking out there for the entire summer day. But as soon as it had appeared, it was gone. I shrug. Plenty of farmers kept their dirty boots in the back of their trucks. Losing a shoe wasn't unheard of, so I forgot about it. The boots stayed there for the rest of the summer. At one point, a raccoon met an unfortunate end near it, meaning soon enough, road crews would come by to clean it off. And when the raccoon disappeared, so did the boot. That should have been the end of it.

Two days later, as Dad and I drove into the bruised Kansas sunset, harrowing a coming thunderstorm, we came across Malmarker 52. This time, a woman's running shoe was wedged over the top of the green metal plate, covering the top of the five. I forced Dad to stop. Dad begged me not to get out of the car. shouting at me as I stepped out that we were going to be late. But I picked my way across the gravel shoulder to the shoe. The shoe was firmly stuck as though someone had tried to skewer it on the marker. But there was nothing else out of the ordinary with it. It was just a running shoe.

I removed it and took it back to the car. More shoes came in the following weeks. a green rubber rain boot, a black and tan loafer, a torn canvas sneaker. But it wasn't until I discovered a child's patent leather shoe sitting atop the marker that I reported it to the Goodland Police. They asked if losing a shoe was a crime and threw the report out. So I took pictures of them as they appeared, using a Kodak camera I had forgotten to take on spring break. Dad tried to reassure me that they were likely the lost possessions of some unlucky wayward travelers. But his white knuckles betrayed him as more and more shoes filled the back of our car and our garage.

Eventually, I ran out of film and he stopped humoring me. September drifted into October, which became November. The sunflowers became purple eyes in Kansas twilight. watching as we drove by Mile Marker 52. Our cheerful conversation turned into silence as we approach. We had not moved the booth since it arrived in early October. And though we both saw it, we both ignored it. But this evening, we had to stop.

Dad only gave a small grunt as he threw on the hazard lights and I popped my door. The thick-sold work boot now covered the top half of the mile marker with its calf instead of resting against it. No one really needed to read the marker, but as a K-dot employee, I couldn't leave it covering the marker. Nor could I leave it in the car. Mom warned me about what would happen if I brought another shoe home. So, the boot came with me to the toll booth. After waving farewell to both Dad and Joel the day attendant, I clambered into the toll booth.

I had a book under one arm and the boot dangling from its shoelaces in the other. The evening hours ticked away as the Violet Kansas Twilight turned black. I counted the two tolls I had, checked Joel's work, and read a few chapters of my book. My first clue that something was wrong came when I heard the automated ticketing machine, whirring. My initial thought was someone had gone through and pulled a ticket, but the machine kept wearing and rattling.

The machine was only a few steps away, so I figured it was safe to investigate. My shoes turned a hideous sienna color from the orange floodlights at each corner of the booth. I hopped over the concrete barrier and made my way to the ticket machine. No were. I pressed the ticket button. the machine sped out a glossy white ticket.

It wasn't uncommon for these machines to crap out after a while. My book and dad's knife were gone. I slammed the door shut behind me and latched it, looking at the place where my knife and book had been. I checked under the table. Perhaps in my rush to get to the ticket machine, I had knocked them off. There was nothing under the table.

I checked the trash bin. Nothing. A hot wave of nausea washed over me as I reasoned with myself why they had disappeared. But something solid struck the Tollbooth's door plastic window, a thud similar to a bird strike. I looked out the window. Nothing. I pressed my forehead against the window to look at the concrete step below. Another work boot sat there in the burning orange light.

The mate to the one resting in the corner of the Tollbooth. blood stained the boot's ankle, but to my horror, three pink white ankle bones rested in its heel. Facing whatever was out there wasn't worth what I was making. Jell kept a roll of duct tape in the booth, so with almost a dried out permanent marker I found, and my half-finished report, I scribbled a sign. trapped please help I stuck it in the front window

and hoped someone would see it I sank onto my butt in the corner of the toll booth begging for whatever did this to leave me alone an hour pass then too nothing happened

there wasn't even a toll when I started to question whether I made the whole thing up the lights grew brighter The light grew harsher and harsher still until the bulbs burst. Glass showered the pavement outside the tow booth. Our one street light, a white light guarding against the darkness, went out, leaving me at the mercy of the dense Midwestern darkness.

I realized I had two options. Two yellow lights appeared on the road ahead of the toll booth as I thought about what to do. Headlights. I leapt to my feet and raised my fist, prepared to pound on the plastic glass as the car went by. But as I did so, the lights shifted, drifting up from the road towards the endless splat. They swung from side to side, like a child, swinging a flashlight. I ducked beneath the table a moment before the lights flickered into the toll booth. Then they went out.

I clutched the lapels of my yellow fluorescent vests. Something growled in the darkness. An engine, perhaps? Before I was left alone in silence once again. I'm having a nervous breakdown, I told myself. That's when the entire toll booth shifted. The booth had been bolted into concrete, designed to withstand even the most fearsome Cansan tornado.

yet I was sliding across the floor. The metal crunching as though something was crushing it into a mighty fist. The rebar shrieked as it snapped and sheared under the force of whatever had taken hold of the booth. I screamed. The toll booth lurched. It slammed back down onto its foundation. Without thinking, I shot to my feet to look outside. Nothing was in the road.

Nothing loomed in the distance. I stood there until I caught my breath, my eyes searching the road, searching for any sign of what I had experienced. But nothing revealed itself. Once I had searched the road ahead of me one more time, I abandoned the toll booth. I ran. There was only one moment when I stopped to look back at the crushed foundation. The entire right side of the booth looked like someone had driven a compact car

and to the side of it. Whatever had done this wouldn't hesitate to tear the tow booth open. I kept running, but hardly a quarter mile into my jog I had to switch to walking. The cold air burned and my lungs were heavy

with the effort of breathing, but I didn't stop moving. Each time I looked over my shoulder, I found only fathomless darkness. When swept through the dry cornfields, scattering their dying whispers onto the road. Perhaps I had imagined the entire thing. The third time I turned back to look,

the booth's lights were back on, creating an oasis of light in the night. But I had made up my mind. As soon as I was home, I was going to write my resignation letter. As I turned to look again, two perfectly circular yellow lights appeared in the distance. Thinking I was finally saved, I raised my arms above my head to beckon and hollered until I

tasted blood. But the lights? They scuttled along the ground, sweeping from left to right. I ran. Goodland was only a Malway. I could see its lights piercing the darkness not far away from where I stood. A blister burst in my shoe, soaking my sock with its fluid. I kept running. My shadow grew in front of me, and as I willed myself to go faster, something snagged the back of my vest. A horrid smell waft over me. Whatever this thing was, it smelled putrid and wet, as though it had spent the entire summer rotting in a ditch. The low growl came from somewhere behind me. I struggled out of my safety vest and kept running. A streetlight not far from where I stood beckoned me forth. It's circle of white light

filling the street. Somehow I knew I would be safe if I could get to it. But mere steps away from it, I was yanked to the ground. A fleshy rope had wrapped itself around my ankle. The two yellow lights glared at me as I tried to remove the tindril around my ankle. Another long tindril wrapped itself around my right arm. One of my shoes came free as I struggled to free my leg from whatever creature this was. I clawed at the tarmac, ratching as I was dragged backwards. Rodding vegetation slothed off the creature until the road beside me. The yellow lights grew brighter and brighter still until it hurt to look at them. A blinding white light swept over both of us. The lights shifted, and I struggled to look up.

A red truck drove by on the other side of the road. I turned to look at the creature, which had pinned me to the road. But all I found staring back at me was the streetlight, burning brightly above my head, threatening to blind me. I ran the rest of the way to good land without stopping, struggling to keep myself from getting sick. But nothing followed after me. I submitted my resignation the following morning.

After several breakdowns, mom and dad agreed to move out of the state with me. We packed the car and headed out to Colorado. But as we approached Malmarker 52, I couldn't help but look. A cyan sneaker rested against the Malmarker's green still stem. Mom must have also seen it. For as we passed, she asked if I was missing one of my name. my shoes because, well, it looked like one of mine. If you're struggling to find work and pay the bills, it can be even more difficult to know

people who are doing well, living the good life while you barely make it through each month. And in this tale, shared with us by author René Rain, we meet a man whose friend offers him some work looking after his house while he's away. Seems simple enough, especially if you love cats. Performing this tale are Atticus Jackson, Mike Delgadoo, and Mary Murphy. So enjoy your time in the fancy luxury home while you can. Just make sure you always consult the rules, instructions on how to succeed at cat sitting. My friend Josh was my polar opposite. He was a young, successful entrepreneur and, frankly said, filthy rich.

on the other hand, was a perpetual failure who lived in a small one-room apartment, always looking to make it to the end of the month. While Josh owned a flourishing online business, I drifted from one odd job to another. Why is any of this important, you might wonder? Well, it was no other than Josh who left me with this weird set of rules. It was about two weeks ago that he had to leave for another one of his business trips and needed someone to not only sit his house but to take care of his cats. Josh owned four of the little buggers,

all special breeds and exotic. He came to me because he knew my situation had taken a turn for the worst due to COVID-19. I was behind on rent, bills kept stacking up, and finding work was harder than ever. Josh offered me a fair amount of money, enough to last me for an entire month, and I eventually relented and accepted his offer.

Every single time I arrived at his house, I was awestruck. It was a beautiful two-story building that he'd bought a couple years back and renovated from the ground up. There was probably more modern technology in his home than in the rest of the entire neighborhood. Josh didn't just own a smart TV or smart lights. He had an entire smart living room, a smart kitchen with a smart coffee machine, even a freaking smart toilet. I didn't even know half the stuff he owned existed and wondered why he'd need the other half. Josh, however, loved everything new, shiny, and smart. When I arrived, he offered me a bottle of imported craft beer and led me inside.

He told me the couch was all mine. I could roam the place as I saw fit, but his office was off limits. Josh was very particular about this stuff, and I didn't see any reason to intrude. After those first instructions, he introduced me to his cats right away. There was an older bingle, an Egyptian Mao, a Cornish Rex, and a recently acquired Savannah kitten. To be honest, I only remember the different breeds because of his list of notes. I was never a cat person. Uh, no.

To be honest, I was never a pet person. Once he'd told me all their names, which I'd forgotten the moment he'd left, he handed me an envelope containing his instructions for the cats. Or, as he called it, the rules. He gave me a little wink and told me to only open them once he'd left. I rolled my eyes, but gave him a little laugh. Josh was not only a weirdo, but he'd always been a very immature and childish person. I could already tell that his so-called rules were most likely nothing but bullshit.

Still, I humored his antics and put the envelope away on the coffee table for the time being. Josh told me about a few more things about the house before he handed me the money and went on his way. Once I'd gotten myself settled, I secured another one of his craft beers and sat down in his lavish living room. to read The Rules. I was prepared to find the envelope filled with nothing but a silly picture, but to my surprise, it actually contained a list of rules. The Rules. Instructions on how to succeed at cat sitting.

1. Feed the cats twice a day at 8 a.m. and 8 p.m. Don't be late. 2. Always measure the amount of food you use. using a measuring cup following the instructions on page 2. 3. Each cat has their own special food following a strict diet plan.

Don't mix up the food. Leave their feeding bowls at their respective places. I rolled my eyes at his damn peculiarities. They are freaking cats. Why is all this stuff so important? 4. If the TV turns on at 1023 3 p.m. on a random channel.

Leave it on. Don't turn it off before 10.48 p.m. When I read this one, I stared at the list for a moment before chuckling. Really, Josh? Cryptic obscure rules? God, this was too silly. Even for him. 5.

The cats need to be groomed every other day. Check the instructions on page 3. for more information. Six. If the lights turn on in random rooms of the house, don't turn them off until the following morning. Seven, should you take out the trash? Always use the dumpster on the far right.

Always make sure to close it. Never open the one on the left. Yeah, this was getting stupid. It was obvious what was going on here. and for a second I was about to crumble up this stupid list and throw it away. Then I went to read on. Who knows, there might be something important between all the bullshit. Eight.

There's an outdoor kennel for the cats. Make sure to let them go out in the afternoon. Nine. If you hear strange noises after 11 p.m., ignore them. And don't try to figure out their origin. Just stay in the living room. Again, don't try to figure out where they come from. 10.

There might be noises coming from the office at random times during the night. Don't enter at any time. The noises will soon stop again. 11. Each of the cats has a specific nutrient mixture that should be added to their water bowls. Check page 2 for more instructions. Try not to forget about it. it. 12. If you hear a knock against the window, you must ignore it. Don't let anyone in.

She will leave again if you ignore her. 13. Don't use the oven after 10 p.m. It's a little too smart for its own good. Trust me on that one. 14. Ignore any voices you hear throughout the house. There's no one else there. Don't investigate. They will stop eventually. Fifteen. The beer is all yours. But try not to get wasted and break things.

Once done, I couldn't help but laugh. This was so typical for Josh. I put the list aside and checked out pages two and three. They were filled with detailed information about each cat. With a sigh, I went through them, trying to understand what the hell I was even supposed to do. By the time I'd read everything, it was almost noon. I checked out the food and water bowls, but Josh had already filled them up. So I didn't have to do anything except letting the cats out in the afternoon and feeding them in the evening.

The first day at Josh's place was amazing. I'd said before that I never knew why he had all those gadgets, but after a couple of hours, at his house, I could see the appeal. I could call out any song I wanted and it would be played instantly on his amazing 5.1 sound system. I could turn on and off the lights with nothing but a wave of my hand. Don't get me started on his toilet. As the hours passed, I watched Netflix on his giant movie projector and drank a few more of the craft beers. Man, this was a life I could get used to. Some of the cats joined me at random intervals throughout the day, eyeing their new roommate curiously.

Once it was evening, I followed Josh's instructions and refilled the cat's feeding bowls. It was actually harder than I expected. I was quite tipsy by that point, and Josh owned a plethora of different cat foods and nutrient mixes. In the end, though, I got everything right. At least I think so. I just sat down for yet another movie when I heard sounds from the second floor. It was quiet and barely audible while the movie was playing.

At first I thought it was one of the cats. But when I turned the movie off, I realized that it was a voice, a woman's. The shiver went down my spine. As I listened, it almost sounded like someone was counted. I went from the living room to the stairs and listened. 17, 16, 15, 14. And on it went. Needless to say, I was damn confused and not just a little scared about what was going on.

Hello? Is anyone there? I got no answer. Instead, the numbers continued to decrease until they reached zero. At this point, the voice stopped, and silence returned. I swallowed, and after another minute had passed, I carefully ascended the stairs. There was no one there, though. All I saw was an empty hallway. I didn't know what I had expected, and I wasn't sure if I should be relieved or not.

Right at that moment, I remembered his list of rules and returned to the living room. There it was. second to last one on the list. Number 14. Ignore any voices you hear throughout the house. There's no one else there. Don't investigate. They will stop eventually.

All right, I told myself. This was bullshit. It was most likely a recording that was being played somewhere up there. With another beer as mental support, I went back upstairs. As I checked the walls, though, I found no hint of speakers or radio. I was about to open one of the doors when I saw a light flickering on and off in the room at the back of the hallway. Fuck this. I didn't know what the hell was going on, but I sure as shit didn't want to mess with any of it.

It was nothing. Probably a malfunctioning light. Still, when I returned to the living room, I checked every corner over the room before I settled back on the couch. For the first time since I'd arrived, I was happy to see the cats nearby. At least I didn't have to sleep alone there all by myself. When my phone woke me at 7 a.m. the next morning, my head was slightly throbbing. I made my way to the kitchen and instructed Josh's coffee machine to mix me one of its strongest options.

With the blackest coffee I'd ever seen in my entire life, I made my way to make my way. way to the feeding bowls. The cats followed but kept a clear distance from me. The moment I took out the food, though, they became much friendlier. Oh, I know what's going on here. You deceitful little creatures. There was nothing special happening on the second day. I spent most of it either in the living room or exploring Josh's home. In the evening, I found my way into his small private library. It was filled with books on self-improvement and a sheerly endless amount of business manuals. Eventually, I discovered a collection of the works of M.C. Asher, hidden between some obscure tome of Eastern philosophy and a biography of J. Gould.

I took the Escher book with me to the living room, instructed Alexa to play some ambient music, and went through the pages. There was something fascinating about Escher's work. While I was busy studying yet another one of his optical illusions, the room was suddenly flooded by the light of the TV. I jerked up and stared at it. It was set to a random channel showing nothing but static. How the hell had the damn thing turned on? I checked to see if I sat on the remote or if any of the cats had been toying with it, but I found it resting on the coffee table.

I reached out for it and was about to turn the TV back off when I saw the list of rules lying nearby. Hadn't there been something about the TV on there? I found the one I was looking for right away. Number four. If the TV turns on at 10.23 p.m. on a random channel, leave it on. Don't turn it off before 10.48 p.m. When I checked the clock, I saw that it was now 10.20. 10.25 p.m.

Oh, you gotta be freaking kidding me. For a moment, I was about to say, fuck it and turn it off. But then I remembered the weird voice from last night. And I told myself again that nothing was going on. Just another error in the settings. Still, there was this quiet little voice in the back of my mind asking me, What if? Grumbling, I put the remote down.

again and tried my best to ignore the annoying static. Once it was close to 11 p.m., I decided it was safe enough to turn it off and go to sleep. Thus ended my second day at Josh's home. Over the next few days, more strange things happened all around the house. I was still telling myself it was all a malfunction or a coincidence. Hell, maybe Josh was fucking with me. But that quiet voice in the back of my mind wasn't so. so quiet anymore. Every day, I found the lights on in random rooms. Rooms I hadn't even set

foot in yet. At other times, I heard the strange voice again, always counting down to zero. I tried to call Josh, but I couldn't seem to reach him. When I sent him a message about the weird occurrences, all I got back was as simple, just follow the rules and everything's fine. I cursed at that It almost threw my phone against the wall To be honest I almost note the fuck out of his house by the fourth day Real or not

This was all a little too weird And it was getting to me The problem was Josh trusted me And hell he paid me a fair amount of money To take care of his house And the cats So I stayed

It was on day five That things took a turn for the world worse. And I came to regret my decision. I was in the living room browsing Reddit when noises reached my ear yet again. This time it wasn't the counting voice though. Instead it sounded like someone was banging against the walls. Each bang made me jerk up. And eventually, I'd had enough of this shit. Oh, this stops now. As I made my way to the stairs, I got another idea. What if Josh had instructed one of his other friends to sneak in and fuck with me? It was a silly idea, sure, but I wouldn't put it past him.

More angry than afraid. I made my way up the stairs and soon located the source of the noise. It was coming from his office. I remembered his words. Hell, I remembered the freaking rule about the office, but I didn't give a shit anymore. All right, whoever the fuck you are, Knock it off. If Josh put you up to this to mess with me,

well done. You got me. Ha, ha. The banging continued. But soon I heard something else. It was crying. Muffled crying. What the fuck?

Help me. My eyes grew wide. And an icy shiver went down my spine. It was Josh's voice. Please. The sky broke in and he locked it up in here. The voice went quiet again. Once more, the crying started before labored breathing replaced it.

Josh? What the fuck? I got no answer. All I heard instead was more of the labored breathing coming from inside. I didn't even think about the rules anymore. Something strange was going on here. Something very fucking strange. I took a deep breath before I put my hand on the handle and ripped open the door.

What I found inside the office was absolutely nothing. There was his desk, his computer, his whiteboard, books, papers, nothing else. The light was off. No one was inside and nothing was in disarray. Then, as soon as I stared at the empty room in front of me, all the lights in the house turned on in unison, only to flicker out moments later. Needless to say, this freaked me the fuck out.

I threw the door to the office shut, hurried downstairs and booked it out of the house. Once outside, I could have sworn I saw the lights turning on and off in random rooms of the house. Almost as if someone or something was rushing through it, searching it. I went straight home after this. The moment I'd locked my front door, I'd sent Josh a message asking what the fuck was going on. All I got was yet another short, obscure mess. message. You said you opened the door? Yes. What the fuck does that even matter?

Oh, shit, man. I told you to leave it B and not open it. Well, nothing to do now. She won't go after the cats and by tomorrow things should be normal again. You close the door, right? What the fuck are you even talking about? The hell's the matter with your damn place? Please tell me this is all one of your stupid pranks and you're fucking with me. This time, no reply. No reply. I arrived. Instead, he called me. Josh explained that his house had a history. Quite a fucked up one at that. Back in the day, long before he bought it and renovated it, the place used to be an orphanage. One night, more than half a century ago, the caretaker snapped and murdered the orphans one after another, all while counting down the number of kids still alive until she reached zero.

Josh found out after some research that his office used to be the caretaker's old bedroom. It didn't happen often, but sometimes strange things happen at his house. A voice counting down or pretending to be other people, lights flickering on and off, and other similar things. That's why he got so many smart gadgets. For some reason, those seem to confuse the spirit, as he called it.

Generally, though, if you left it alone and followed the rules, nothing bad would happen. I nearly screamed into the phone. What the actual fuck? You're kidding me, right? I'm afraid not. That's why I left you the rules.

But I should have explained things to you beforehand. Yes. You fucking should have. Why the hell would you even call them something like that if it's about a... Shit, Josh! Why the fuck would you even buy a freaking haunted orphanage? The place was cheap, all right? Way cheaper than any other in town. How the fuck would I have known that fucked up, but please?

Can you go back tomorrow and take care of the cats? It's only three more days. I'm worried about him. I was about to go tell him to fuck himself with his freaking haunted. house. But when he told me he'd pay me some extra money, though, I shut my mouth as soon as I'd opened it. I mean, how bad could it get, right? I hadn't been hurt so far, and Josh reassured me that nothing had ever happened to him. It was all noises and flickering lights. So the next morning, I found myself at his house yet again. During the daytime, everything looked as normal as it could be.

I'd calm down by then, and I wasn't so sure about his story anymore. The cats came up to me the moment I entered the place. When I checked my phone, I saw that it was almost 10 a.m. Poor little buggers seemed to be hungry. And the moment I'd refilled their bowls, they churned down their food. I was about to leave again, but nothing had ever happened during the day. If anything weird were to happen, I could put down some food and water for the cats by 18. p.m. and get the hell out of there. So that day, I made sure to take care of all the cat duty

Josh had given me. I let them out into the kennel for the afternoon, groomed them in the early evening, and once it was 8 p.m., I fed them again. There was no hint of anything strange happening. And once more, I wondered how much was true about Josh's story. Instead of going home then and there, I picked up my laptop and settled down on the couch. I went on Google and started searching for any proof of his story. At first, I found various pieces about orphanage-related murders and other atrocities. Once I'd narrowed my search down, I noticed a specific brief article, The Horror of Sister Maria, Grusome Murders at Orphanage.

The article detailed the same story that Josh had told me before. In March 1972, the caretaker of an orphanage named Strait. Sister Maria had murdered all the children she was overseeing. The name of the orphanage told me nothing, but when I saw the address, I knew that it was the very same building I was in at the moment. Ew, God, it'd be freaking kidding me. For a moment, a feeling of apprehension flooded me, and I wondered if Sister Maria had murdered some of the kids right here in this very room.

My eyes darted around, but there was nothing, of course, apart from one of the cats sitting near me. I petted the little scamp as I went back to the article. Then the cat suddenly jerked up. His ears rose and his eyes darted around. It was a few seconds later that I heard it too. I froze, searching for the source of the noise before I realized it was coming from outside. I'd barely gotten up when three muffled bangs from the front door and wailing reached me. Step by step, I made my way to figure out what the hell was going on.

I'd made it into the hallway when I heard another bang, this one against one of the living room windows. I noticed a shadowy figure outside before it vanished a moment later. Then there was another bang, from a different window, followed by more whaling. And then I saw the outline of a face pressed against the window, staring right at me. 12. If you hear a knock against the window, you must ignore it. Don't let anyone in. She will leave again if you ignore her.

That was the moment I lost it. That was the moment I knew this entire thing was real. Her. He'd written it specifically. It had to be the spirit. The ghost of the caretaker. Before it had been noises, flickering lights, things I could deal with. Something I could tell myself was a coincidence. But this, this was different. Once again, the figure vanished. I heard more wailing from a different window. She will leave again if you ignore her. I'd stared right at her, hadn't I? What if this thing, this ghost, was coming after me?

I thought I could hear the counting voice again from somewhere in the house. And that's when I ran. I was at the front door in an instant. I ripped it open and stumbled outside. And right at that moment, I sighed. To my right, in the middle of Josh's guard, There was the shadowy figure of a woman. It took one step towards me and panic flooded my body.

I dashed from the house towards my car and jumped into it. When I turned it on and the headlights flooded the area, I could have sworn there was more than one figure. I know did the fuck out of there without ever looking back. Once back home, I was a mess. Fuck the house. Fuck the cats. And fuck Josh.

I never go near his damned house ever again. I only sent Josh a single message. I'm done with this shit. Then I turned the damn thing off. I was too shaken up about everything that had happened that day. Before, I tried to tell myself that it was all a hoax. Nothing but a stupid prank. But after what I'd seen, I couldn't.

do it anymore. That night I didn't sleep. Instead, I turned on every damn light in my small apartment, but on the dumbest movie I could find and tried my best to distract myself. It didn't work. Every single sound in the entire freaking building made me jump. I was a shaking mess. Only when the sun came up was I able to relax, if only a bit. It was at 10 in the morning that my doorbell rang. When I opened the front door, I was surprised and confused to find Josh outside. His face was white, almost sick-looking, and he seemed to be as shaken as I was. Hey, man, we need to talk. No greeting, no nothing, just right to business. I stepped aside to let him in. I laid into him right away, asking him what the hell the matter with his house was.

and why he was even back right now. He was quick to raise a hand to tell me to be quiet. I think you better sit down, man. Look, there's a lot I got to tell you. We... No. I fucked up. With that, he told me the entire thing.

All he'd done and all that had happened. So, as it turned out, Josh's house was the definition of a smart home. Much smarter than I'd ever expected. There were cameras, sensors, hidden speakers all over the place. He told me he liked to play music around the house, so he'd installed speakers everywhere. Most of them were concealed or not visible at all. If you didn't know they were there, you had no clue they existed. I stared at him, not understanding what he was going on about.

But then, he'd just. dropped me a fucking bomb. He'd been messing with me. The entire thing was an elaborate hoax, just as I'd expected. It occasionally used the speakers to play tricks on his guests. With me, though, he up the ante a little. At first, he only added a bunch of weird rules to his list of instructions to play a joke on me. Soon enough, he got a much more devious idea.

He programmed his entire freaking house to act out at specific times during the evening and night. Lights would turn on and off, the TV would play static, and weird noises would be played from various speakers in the house. He even recorded himself crying in his office. He then created an elaborate backstory for his house, one that was complete and utter bullshit. But I read the article. When he looked at me, a mixture of misery and embarrassment visible on his face, I knew the truth right away.

He'd even planted a fake article about his house online. When it all sank in, I was livid, calling him every name in the book while he sat there, embarrassed and guilty. Then I stopped. If it was all a joke, then what about last night? What about that ghost I'd seen? I confronted him right away. I told him it was so beyond fucked up to hire someone to scare me like that. That's when Josh cast down his eyes and I heard him inhale sharply.

That woman, she wasn't part of it. What the fuck do you mean? Are you trying to tell me she was an actual fucking ghost? No. He shook his head. Last night, a man broke into the home of one of my neighbors. Miss Graham, an older woman. she lives by herself. The police are still investigating it, but a man must have attacked her,

but he couldn't restrain her. She got away, badly injured, and made her way to the closest house to hers to call for help. She yours. Josh nodded. What happened to her? Josh stayed quiet for a long while, only answering after I'd repeated the question a second time. Louder. Got a call from the police in the middle of the... night. My security alarm was eventually set off and the police checked it out. They found her, beaten to death on the back porch of the house. I couldn't speak. My world started spinning, and I almost crashed to the floor. I realized what I'd seen that night, who the figures were and what I'd done. Instead of helping poor Miss Graham, I'd ignored her.

and left her there to die. All because I'd followed Josh's stupid list of rules. Like many people, you may have found yourself working from home during the pandemic. It felt safe, isolated, and meant you could work in your PJs. But then it happened. The return to office notice went out. And in this tale, shared with us by author F.E. Jean, we meet a manager who has to make video calls with her staff

to gauge how people are feeling about returning to the office. Needless to say, no one seems very happy. Performing this tale are Aaron Lillis and Nicole Goodnight. So make a plan and get the team in place. That way you can tell them to follow my lead. I ended my fourth back-to-back video call of the morning with one minute to spare. No time to use the bathroom, fill my water bottle, or bang my head. head against the wall. So I took a deep breath and rubbed my temples. Then I manifested a smile

onto my lips and called my direct report. So, I said after covering off on their workload and other typical one-to-one topics, I want to know how you're feeling about the return to office news we received yesterday. Frustrated? There was that word again. Everyone's feeling it. I understand. I told them, like I told others. What's most frustrating to you? That they keep flip-flopping? First it was the beginning of October, then they pushed it to January, and now they've moved it up to mid-November.

They paused, and I stayed quiet. That end the stupid tagline. Clearly, it's their real estate over their people. I agree with you, I said, making purposeful eye contact through the screen. And I'm sorry things are so unclear. I hope you know I'm just as frustrated as you all are. I know, I know. It's fine. I'm not like worried or anything because I live far enough away.

What's your exact mileage again? It's like 48 miles. I grimaced. Got it. We'll have to just talk to HR and see how strict they'll be with the 50-mile radius. I'll go into the meeting saying I'm 50 miles away. That's a good plan. but just no HR will probably have to verify that themselves.

My employee sighed and my heart wrenched. I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I recited in my head like a mantra. I cannot control any of it, and yet I have to do the dirty work. They all know it's not me, though. They trust me. They trust me because they know I care about them and have always been authentic and honest. I'm a good leader. Is there still nothing we can argue about the fact that I was brought on board under the impression this position would be fully remote?

I think we can tell that to HR, absolutely. But I just don't know what will come of it. They sighed once more. I'm sorry. There I was again, apologizing for corporate sins. It's the worst part about being a manager. Nobody tells you it's part of the gig either. But I'm a good leader.

I know I am. They know I am. If I knew this would happen when I interviewed you seven months ago, I would have told you. I know you would have. They looked directly into the camera. And you'll be on the HR meeting with me? Yes. And I will do everything in my power to support and argue for you. I wasn't lying. I never lie to them. I just unfortunately won't have much power in the situation.

But I'm a good leader. It's not always about power, after all. Sometimes it's about persuasion, influence. Thank you. And if that doesn't work, I have a backup plan. You do? What is it? I locked eyes with them for a few moments.

We burn the office down. Ewan? There was a beat of thick silence, encircling me like a cunning serpent. And then they spoke. Yes. So far, I've asked six of my employees to participate in this plan. And so far, they've all agreed.

I have five more to go, but I'm not worried. After all, I'm a good leader. As the train pulls into the terminal, we ask that you gather what's left of your sanity and depart the train. Thank you for traveling with us on the sleepless Express. 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 editorial team is Jessica McAvoy and Ashley McAnally. 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 traveling the rails with us for our 21st season.