The NoSleep Podcast - S23 Ep16: NoSleep Podcast S23E16

Episode Date: October 19, 2025

It's Episode 16 of Season 23. Tune in to WNSP for tales about fiendish family and friends."Where the Fence Ends" written by Dean Ribco (Story starts around 00:06:30)Produced by: Jeff ClementCast: Narrator - James Cleveland, Voice - Erika Sanderson"October's Little Sisters" written by Gordon Brown (Story starts around 00:17:20)TRIGGER WARNING!Produced by: Claudius MooreCast: Narrator - Marie Westbrook"The Convention Center" written by Saniya Bangash (Story starts around 00:24:55)Produced by: Jesse CornettCast: Anna - Linsay Rousseau, Adrianne - Sarah Thomas, Ji-hoon - Jonathon Ha"Goat Valley Campgrounds Season 2 - Chapter 5" written and adapted for audio by Bonnie Quinn (Story starts around 01:05:20)Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Kate - Linsay Rousseau, Buyer - Joel Blackwell, Sheriff Sabotta - David Cummings, Townie - Ilana Charnelle, The Man With No Shadow - Graham Rowat, Russell - Jesse Cornett"My Family Is Refusing to Leave the Basement" written by Jamie Frances Janazian (Story starts around 01:03:30)TRIGGER WARNING!Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Annette - Nikolle Doolin, Voice - Nichole Goodnight, Realtor - Atticus Jackson, Officer - Mike DelGaudio, Gideon - Dan Zappulla"The Devil in Dead City" written by Sebastian Gray (Story starts around 01:23:30)TRIGGER WARNING!Produced by: Phil MichalskiCast: Nadine Cross - Kristen DiMercurio, Phillip Kent - Graham Rowat, Samuel - Peter Lewis, Manny - Atticus Jackson, Dr. Nora - Nichole GoodnightThis episode is sponsored byMint Mobile - Ditch overpriced wireless with Mint Mobileís deal and get 3 months of premium wireless service for 15 bucks a month. C'mon, cut your wireless bill to 15 bucks a month at mintmobile.com/nosleepClick here to learn more about The NoSleep Podcast teamClick here to learn more about the Story Sirens podcastClick here to learn more about Jonathon HaClick here to learn more about Saniya BangashClick here to learn more about Jamie Frances JanazianExecutive Producer & Host: David CummingsMusical score composed by: Brandon Boone"Where the Fence Ends" illustration courtesy of Catriel TallaricoThe NoSleep Podcast is Human-made for Human Minds. No generative AI is used in any aspect of work.Audio program ©2025 - 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.

WNSP. You're joining us for the darkness of the night. WNSP's overnight programming. I'm your nighttime host, D.C. Keep a new company during these dark hours. And I'll tell you, these days the dark hours are becoming longer and longer. The days are getting shorter, the nights longer, and the lack of sun is making people even paler.

And since I sleep during the day, I feel like my skin could reflect sunlight up to the space station. And speaking of pale things, I'm hearing that the pale crawlers are back and being spotted in the woods around Cripted Valley. As I'm sure you know, pale crawlers are humanoid creatures described as thin and pale, with long limbs and claws and large black eyes.

Some sightings describe their eyes as having white pupils that glow in the dark. The sounds they make are usually described as screeching. And if you see one, don't worry, we'll believe you. Unlike a report I heard about from July 23rd of 2013. Seems in upstate New York, near Niagara Falls, a pale crawler was seen by a park ranger. He reported the sighting, but that ended up costing him his job. He was cited for, quote, unruly conduct, poor mental capability, and an inability to distinguish reality from fiction, End quote.

Seems kind of harsh, doesn't it? So if you see a pale crawler, your mental capability is just fine. And it will be even better after you hear another episode from our friends over at the No Sleep Podcast. A rustle of the leaves. A fleeting movement at the edge of your vision. How often have you walked a forest trail at dusk only to feel. Feel the unmistakable sensation that something unseen is watching you. For centuries, humans have populated the darkness with creatures of legend,

whose existence remains unproven, yet whose presence is undeniable in the whispered tales of those who dare venture too deep into the wild. Brace yourself for the No Sleep Podcast. Welcome to the No Sleep Podcast. I'm your host, David Cummings. Did you know it's the month of October? I barely know what year it is, so I was surprised to learn the 10th month has arrived.

And did you know October is the month of Halloween? Since we do Horror 365 around here, we sometimes forget that some people only consume delicious horror treats this time of year. And so if you're looking for the full-sized candy bars of horror podcasts, Make sure you join us next week, as we'll be featuring our big Halloween special. We'll have the full-length Halloween episode next weekend, and our sleepless sanctuary members will get the special Halloween bonus on the big day itself, October 31st.

There will be tricks and treats for everyone. And speaking of treats, you should check out the fun podcast called Story Sirens. It features our very own seroton. Thomas, along with her friend Yenny, as they and their guests dive deep into your favorite myths and legends from around the world with a whole lot of laughter in between. I had the pleasure of joining them recently, as we talked about the many legends and creepy tales found in graveyards. Check the show notes to learn more about the Story Sirens podcast. And I'm excited that this episode features a special guest voice actor. Jonathan Haugh

Jonathan is a Korean-American actor based in Los Angeles. His voice work can be heard on a variety of projects, although you've probably never heard of most of them. Like a video game called Fortnite, or a movie called The Long Walk, or a streaming series called K-pop Demon Hunters. I mean, has anyone heard of those things? Wait, what?

You mean those are three of the biggest hits on the planet these days? Okay, so I stand corrected. But seriously, we are thrilled to have Jonathan join us on this episode. Check the show notes to learn more about him. Ah, yes, our little family is getting bigger and bigger. And speaking of our family and our new friends, this week we have tales for you that will feature those people close to us. Normally, friends and family mean a group of people we can rely on,

trust to have our backs, to be there when we need them most. But in the world of horror, those closest to us sometimes mean they're a little too close to us, close enough to do some serious harm. So, friends, it's time. Time to tune in, turn on, and brace yourself for our sleepless tales. In our first tale, we meet a man whose family has left him, literally and figuratively. After his parents pass away, he is left with the family home and all its property. But in this tale, shared with us by author Dean Ribco, the man soon realizes he's never seen the entire property,

because his parents always told him to stay away from the edges. Performing this tale are James Cleveland and Erica Sanderson. So stay close to home when you're told to avoid the place where the fence ends. I remember seeing the fence when I was 10 years old. It appeared to stretch forever through our backyard, rusted and weathered, with ivy creeping over its twisted wires. I was not to go near it, my dad instructed me. It's an old property fence, nothing more.

Nothing off limits out there for us. That was not true. I did nothing at first. A presence lurked at the fence edge. A presence waiting patiently. Years went by, and I'd all but forgotten about it. Things moved on. I lost my dad when I was 22.

And my mum, a year later. and I inherited the house, nobody, no immediate family, but the fence, the woods, and the house. I hadn't even noticed it until I happened to be standing near the trees one evening, staring at the rusted wires. There was a boy's curiosity in me, one I failed to outgrow, I supposed. It was just a fence, wasn't it? But I saw its length with my eyes and realized I'd not seen its end point. A logical portion of me suspected that it belonged to an archaic boundary mark

a long disregarded. But there was a part of me, a portion that disturbed me at midnight that whispered that the fence simply did not cease, that it kept going forever and ever. And then, of course, I proceeded to follow it. I began in the late afternoon, planning to go for an hour to the utmost and search for its terminus and return in daylight. There was an unnatural quiet in the woods. There was nothing but my own footfall shattering dead leaves under my tread. The fence hadn't changed at all since I was a boy. Rusty wire, thick ivy post at an angle. I kept moving deeper into the woods, through parts I'd not

encountered. Through trees, older even the town itself, the air grew thick, became heavy, weighing down my sense of good spirit, and then the sun began to descend. I could have returned. I could have listened to my instinct, that inner voice that told me I'd made a mistake. I did not, for in the deepening dusk I beheld a presence that did not belong. A doorway. Trapped in the midst of the fence, a weathered wooden door, twisted but intact. No frame, no hinges, but simply present. A creeping feeling coursed through me. I don't know for how long I stood frozen in front of it, my breath shallow, my heart thudding in my head.

All my instincts screamed at me to flee. But then I saw something strange about that door. A detail that I extended my fingers shaking and touched the wood. It was warm. Warmer than I'd have liked, in fact. I lurched backwards, hard pounding in my chest. I heard the whisper a second time, louder, yet I saw no one nearby. Soon will be his arrival.

The wood's darkened. Shadows grew abnormally long. I turned and ran. I don't remember getting to my house. I was fleeing through trees, whisperings at my heels. And then I was at my residence, my front door locked, my heart. I told myself I dreamed it. The lack of sleep must have gotten to me.

And that night, insomnia claimed me again. I lay in my bed staring at the ceiling, listening. I remember at one point I noticed the woods were not quiet. but silent. No leaves rustling, no insects moving about their business. And then, when I began to fall into a restless sleep, a knock at the door, I shot up. Breath caught my throat, another knock. Gentle.

A voice. You discovered the door. I did not stir. The voice rang wrong. There was no emotion, no inflection, just. words dead and lifeless ones. You discovered the door. I reached out with trembling fingers towards my phone,

and it flickered and died out. Lights in my home became dimmer. The knock came again. Louder. Door creaked. It sounds suggesting a presence having shoved it. I grabbed the nearest thing, a lamp, and held it like a weapon. Silence.

Then, from just outside... Open the door. It spoke confidently, as if it knew I was afraid. My stomach twisted, it wasn't a request. I backed off, my heart thudding in my head. The knocking stopped, but the unknown presence remained. I could feel it pacing, looking for me. The silence stretched.

And then, all at once, the woods came to life. again, my house for three days. When I finally mustered the courage, I braced my heart and moved towards the tree edge. The fence kept its constant stunts, moving out infinitely into the woods. But the doorway no longer existed. Not broken, not obscure, disappeared, vanished. It was gone. I almost convinced myself almost that I dreamed it all, made up the whole thing in my head. Until I saw the footprints. A single path between the fence and my porch, my prints, presumably. Nessled in a little deeper, buried in wet mud, a second pair.

Standing, waiting. I failed to go back to the woods. Not long afterward, I left the house I refused to call home, leaving it to fall apart, to be reclaimed by the trees surrounding it. But sometimes, in the dead of night, when sleep fails to descend and the quiet feels suffocating, I can swear I can hear. Making friends in high school is pretty important. You don't want to be stuck with the losers, right?

You want cool friends to hang out with and be seen. But in this tale, shared with us by author Gordon Brown, a young woman has a chance to join a group that only a select few are able to join. but getting in means pushing some boundaries. Performing this tale is Marie Westbrook. So don't be a scaredy cat if you want to be with the best. And around here, that means joining October's Little Sisters. You'd heard about them on your first day of high school. Whisper's that these fluorescent-lit halls are haunted by a collection, no, a coven,

a constellation of young women who know secrets, where to get whiskey for every party, how to slip like a shadow into any bar. What words to say when hitchhiking to make strange men take you to just where you wanted and bring you back safely every time? You'd like that, wouldn't you? Of course you would.

You want something more than cheap prairie houses and dollar store parking lots. Something more than diners where off-season poachers let their eyes crawl over you. Something more than watching your mother pluck gray hairs from her scalp, wondering when you'll start getting them too. Most people around here don't believe in October's little sisters, but you do.

They're the reason people find cut-off cat heads on their lawns. Sad small little things almost missed on the way to the mailbox. Sometimes not notice at all until some Midwestern dad's mower stops suddenly. on its way through the grass, blades catching and crunching on bone. There'd be a dozen or so cases before the month was out. There'd be the same story in the paper, feigning the same old shock and horror, the same unheeded warnings to keep your pets indoors when the weather starts changing. Hunched over algebra in a cramped drowsy classroom,

pencil sliding aimlessly across Solve for X. Your eyes wander across the room, searching for some sign or symbol that might show you who they are. A girl in a brown bomber jacket plays with a pink highlight in her hair. A girl with coke bottle glasses and noose-tight braids taps a staccato rhythm on her desk with long fingernails. A girl with braces and bad acne wears a tiger's eye ring on a chain around her neck. You look away when she sees you staring.

You know October's sisters walk alone late at night. If you wait by the window, as you often do, you can hear shrieking laughter in the dark, the sound of high heels clipping fearlessly against the sidewalk. Beyond the roofs of low ranch houses and the screen of bare branch trees, you feel sluggish in the morning, irritable and exhausted and not especially invested in the conversation your mother has with the people from next door. Their cat's gone missing. Some plate-faced Persian with Civil War whiskers and Warwickers and war.

watery blue eyes. You only have hear your mother volunteering you to help put up missing pet posters after you're back from school. Sitting in the bathroom stall, you're not aware of the envelope being pushed through the slit in the door. Not until it's halfway through. You don't bend down fast enough to catch anything but a pair of bat-black ballet flats skipping away.

The envelope is pumpkin orange. So is the paper inside it. Every letter written on it is seemingly trashed. by a different hand. Need to know we can trust you. Instructions to follow. Flush after reading. Which you do, though you hate to.

The paper smells of cinnamon and cinders. Feels crisp and clean in your hand. You watch it soaking in the porcelain bowl and spiraling away. There's an envelope taped to the outside of your bedroom window. This one is a more sunset shade of orange. Cute bangs, cut them off. Put them in the envelope and leave it in your locker. We know how to get in.

It's easy if you don't look at yourself while you're doing it. If you practice the story, you'll tell your mother when she sees you. A week of waiting. An envelope, burnt umber taped beneath your desk. Found by accident. Slipped into your purse and opened alone. Coldly terrified at how long it may have been waiting in there. If it wasn't already too late.

Send a picture of yourself naked to this number. It's easy. if you don't look at the picture afterwards. If you don't think about where it is gone, if you distract yourself from the rising nausea all through the cluster phobic night by telling yourself it's already over, that you chose to do it.

And that power, real power, means never having to feel sorry or scared. In the days that follow, you keep your eyes fixed on the wart-nosed witch decorations going up around school. You don't pay any attention to the whispering packs of boys as you pass by.

Who knows what they're actually snickering about? You don't see who puts the envelope in your jacket pocket. You aren't aware of it until a sharp corner jabs against your finger. It's red. Candy apple red. Stop sign red. It tells you what to do next. The excuse you give your mother for needing to go out that night is abysmal.

It squirms pale and weak like something scraped up from under a rock when you say it out loud. But she doesn't fight you all. on it. Doesn't stick her fingers through any of the countless holes in your story. Just sits at the table, staring at you, before softly saying, okay. Now you're walking alone through the dark, heels clicking against the sidewalk. Now you're cutting across backyards, half staggering over the wet grass. Now you're using your phone as a flashlight. Now you're squatting behind a flap door by a stranger's house, spreading cold tuna across the mat. Now you're waiting.

When he does, some part of you hopes he'll be too quick. He does, and he isn't, and can only look helplessly ahead as your hand closes hard on the loose skin of his neck. Beneath pumpkin-orange fur is the beat of a terrified heart. October's little sisters are out there, somewhere in the night. and every shadow's whispering You've already come this far. These days, Korean pop culture has taken North America by storm. From shows like Squid Game to K-pop music,

fans can't get enough of it. And some are kind of obsessed with it. And in this tale, shared with us by author Sonja Bangash, we meet Anna and Adrian, two friends who are attending a gathering of K-pop fans. Anna isn't as much of a fan as Adrian, but when they meet a K-pop idol who seems lost, they do what they can to help him out. Performing this tale are Lindsay Russo, Sarah Thomas, and special guest, Jonathan Ha.

So get your lanyard and have a pen for autographs. It's time to head to the Convention Center. The summer after my senior year of high school, I found myself bumping shoulders with strangers and a crowded convention center. or outside of Chicago. I didn't understand the music that floated over the din of thousands of chattering fans, and I didn't recognize any of the celebrities or music groups on the merch and signs that lined the hall.

What I did understand was that my friend Adrian, who I had been cluelessly following like a duckling, was having the time of her life. Adrian had always been different. She moved into our small southern Illinois town, our junior year of high school, and was already ostracized by our peers by the end of her first week. I love her, but I mean, yeah, she had to have seen it coming. She wore heels, girly outfits, big hair pins, and a backpack adorned with pins and charms of little cartoon animals no one recognized.

To be frank, she stuck out like a giraffe and a herd of horses. Our last names both started with A, so we were assigned seats together in AP chemistry. Through various high school science experiments, I got to know her. I learned the source of her unique existence was her obsession with Korean. Well, everything. The music, the shows, the language, the clothes. If it was Korean, her universe centered around it. I thought her obsession was odd, sure,

but I also learned that she was the only girl in class willing to explore local abandoned barns with me. And it turned out she was funny as hell. While she could never get me to care about all that Korean stuff, I enjoyed listening to wear weird-ass K-pop stories, like fans breaking into tour buses to steal bag. of celebrity shit, and I mean literal shit. Over time, we became almost inseparable.

So, of course, I followed her to this K-pop convention. While I didn't understand much of anything, I was really enjoying watching Adrienne in her element, finally surrounded by people just like her. Adrian suddenly stopped walking and turned to look at me. I'm lost. I scanned the large hall. It was hard to find signs through the thick crowd.

They said it was going to be at room 21A. I know. Do you know where it might be? No. We were slowly moving away from the rows of vendor booths Adrian had given all her summer money to. The tote bag around my shoulder was stuffed full of all the overpriced merch she'd bought. Posters, plush dolls, keychains.

The worst offender jetted out from the bag. A ridiculously expensive, magic wand-shaped lightstick to wave around concerts. Right after buying it, Adrian had turned it on and the power button on the handle got jammed into its plastic frame, now impossible to turn off. The purple light it was supposed to admit was invisible in the brightly lit hall. We moved out of the vendor hall and into the less congested main lobby. I checked my phone. We were already running late for the idle meet and greet. Adrian led me down an escalator. We eventually found room 21A, but we were late. Groups of Fans were mingling in little circles, holding autographed photos and reviewing pictures on their phones.

The tables and chairs at the back of the room, where the celebrities were supposed to be, were empty. Where are they? I scanned the room trying to see if I could find anyone who looked like an idol. There were supposed to be three groups here, but Adrian was only familiar with one, some girl group. Adrian's eyes scanned the room for a familiar face while I checked the time on my phone. Only by two minutes! We must have just missed them. She turned away and walked back out into the hallway. I followed close behind.

We sat outside room 21A with our backs against the wall. Adrian buried her face in her phone. I could tell she was trying to hide her disappointment. Let's see when the other events are. People began to file out of the room, gushing to each other about meeting whoever the hell. I watched their shoes tread by, wishing I knew what I could. could do to make things better. A clean and expensive-looking pair of sneakers stopped next to me.

I looked up and locked eyes with a man standing above me. He was beautiful. He looked to be in his early 20s and had a gentle smile on his perfect face. He was dressed way more stylishly than I had ever seen a guy dressed in real life. His black hair was cut into bangs split down the middle, giving him a youthful look. He looked just like the members of those boy bands Adrian was so obsessed with. I see you were late to the meeting, Green. Yep.

That makes three of us. But at least you are not late to see her on fans. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Adrian was now looking up at him. Did one of the idols not show up? Um, yes. He pointed at himself. Me. His smile looked like it was painted onto his perfectly smooth, porless face.

I'd never seen skin. so flawless. I wanted to touch his cheek to see if it was actually just a shell, wave my hand around it to see if the magic beauty filter would come off. Adrian had told me about the crazy beauty routines of these idols, but seeing one of them in real life was entirely different. I felt Adrian perk up beside me. You? Are you part of a group? Or solo? I, uh... The embarrassment of not realizing this apparent celebrity seemed to dawn on her. I'm sure I've seen you somewhere before He smoothed it over with the wave of his hand

Maybe not My group is still very new My name is Chihun It's nice to meet you Hi, I'm Adrian And this is Anna Hi I gave a small wave

He mouthed the word hi to me with a quick wave I am glad I found two friendly people. This is my first time in America, and I've already missed my first meeting greet. I hope I will not also be late to my performance. It is soon. We are opening for Starlings. I could feel Adrian's body jolt at that name. Oh, my guts!

I'm sure your group is going to blow up if you're already opening for Starlings. Yes, it is exciting, but... He looked down the hallway as a lot of... looking for something. I may not be there. Why? We open the performance. It is VIP, a secret for VIP guests at...

His face scrunched up looking for the right word. Down? Below. Room. He gestured with his hand pointing down again and again. Down room? He tried again, still jabbing his pointed finger towards the room. Ground room. Under dirt?

Building. Under dirt? You mean, like a basement? His face lit up and he snapped his fingers. Yes, basement. The performance is VIP only secret in the basement. In the basement of... I was not going to make an innocent non-native English speaker go through hell of sounding out the words convention center.

I finished the sentence for him. Your VIP performance is secret being held in the basement of this convention center. He smiled with relief and nodded. Yes. Life is easy with my translator. Where is he? I think with my group. And where's your group?

I think they have already left. We were to be at the meet and greet, then go, prepare and perform at the basement. I need to find them, but I do not want to be alone very long without my translator. Can you help me, please? Be my translator until I find my group. I need help with words like basement. I am afraid to get lost with no friend.

I speak a little Korean. Jehoun perked up and said something that sounded like a question in Korea. Adrian responded with what I assume meant yes. That sealed it. She bounced up and I slowly got it behind her. We followed Jehoun until we reached what looked like a door to a janitor's closet. It was camouflaged, painted the same brown color as the walls surrounding it. Its paint was clumped up on some parts, as if painted over a bump.

Several spots of paint were chipped off, revealing dirty-looking metal underneath. This is it. the door to the basement. Without further hesitation, Jehoun opened the door and led us through. We found ourselves in a long, narrow hallway with a yellow door standing at the far end of it. The fluorescent lights that buzzed above were a sickly yellow color, painting everything, including us, in its hue. I couldn't tell if the large bricks that made up the walls were painted that faded yellow white

color, or if they were just normal white bricks corrupted by the tint of the lights above. The white tile floor was spotless. Its surface so shiny and smooth, it reflected the lights above like a pool of still water. Jehoun led us down the hall and threw the door at the end of it. Behind this door was a stairwell leading down three flights. We descended. The yellow door at the landing below was identical to the one at the top of the stairwell. We opened it and found ourselves in another narrow hallway that looked almost exactly like the one we had just gone through.

The only difference were the three extra yellow doors that lined the walls, one on the left side wall and two on the right. I looked at Jehoun expectedly. Are you performing somewhere here? He looked as confused as I was. I do not hear anyone. I expect more people. I think maybe further down.

I resisted my urge to open one of the doors that lined the hallway and peer inside. I had a feeling we weren't supposed to be down there and didn't want to accidentally set off an alarm. Reaching the end of that hallway and going through the next door, we repeated our journey down a stairwell identical to the previous one. Went past the door at the landing and again found ourselves in a similar hallway. Jehoun and Adrian walked in front of me side by side. Adrian had been playfully practicing her Korean and giggling with him since our journey started.

I had the weirdest feeling like I was smelling something disgusting without actually smelling anything at all. I felt like I had to force myself to not hold my breath. My face almost tingled, wanting to turn away from something I couldn't fully sense. What kind of basement is this? Do these rooms lead to like facilities closets or something? Why so many layers of just skinny hallways? Jehoun didn't turn his head, but I saw his pupil turn towards me at the very corner of his eye.

Facilities? Like where you store mops and cleaning supplies. That would be a lot of cleaning. He looked down at Adrian. Your friend is funny. She laughed with him and looked back at me with a fond smile. She really is. I wasn't going to let this go.

Adrian, don't you think this basement is weird? At this point, we were going down the third stairwell. Adrian opened the door at the landing to yet another identical hallway. Where's this concert even being held? I'm sure these rooms are bigger on the inside, and it's just the hallways that are narrow. I stopped walking, and they both turned to look at me. Is there a bigger room somewhere down here? Is that where you're going to perform?

Jehoun's brow furrowed. I am not sure. I just know it is somewhere here. My manager showed me. When we hear people or noise, we will know. I was beginning to understand why he wanted someone to go with him. The sickly yellow of the hallways was starting to give me a nauseous feeling in my gut. I'm not claustrophobic, but a big part of me wanted to stretch my hands

against the walls around us and push them away, to will the hallway to give me just a little more space to breathe. Looking for an escape, I grabbed the handle on the nearest door that lined the wall and slowly opened it a crack. I could see through the narrow opening that the light in the room behind it was already on. I pushed the heavy door fully open. The room was small and set up like some sort of classroom. The only furniture were a few rows of chairs and desks that faced the front of the room.

Some of them were tipped over on their sides. In one corner, I could see what looked like a poster that had fallen face down off the bare wall behind it. We stood at the doorway, digesting the scene in front of us. I finally broke the silence. What the fuck? Maybe this is where they do employee training. I stepped away from the room and tried the next door. This room, also brightly lit, was empty,

except for a few cardboard boxes and some empty metal shelves that lined the walls. I turned to Jehoun. None of these rooms looked like they'd be big enough to host anything. His face was pinched like he was also trying to make sense of the odd space. I am confused. I was told to come here. My team should be here. He took a small sidestep towards the door we had entered this hallway through, then another towards the door at the other end of the hall, his body acting out his torn thoughts. He leaned forward and looked into the room I had just opened, as if looking for an explanation.

To not, I... He paused for a moment, then took a step back. I need to find my team. This basement must end soon. I think it is not much deeper. Maybe they're on the next floor. He seemed to think about it for a moment. Yes, our show is very loud.

They must be deep below so no one can hear. Or maybe the basement has a large storage area we will perform in. Yeah, there probably is some storage space at the very bottom or something. He seemed happy enough with this explanation. I felt a twinge of annoyance at Adrian agreeing with him. It was so obvious she was just saying whatever she thought would make Jehoun like her. I didn't fight it, though. I didn't want to ruin this little fairy tale Adrian was living out.

I reluctantly followed them down the next stairwell. We walked through identical hallways and down identical stairwells for a while. It didn't seem like Adrian ever noticed anything strange about the place. She was just so damn infatuated with the guy. Me. Not so much. It didn't matter how pretty he was. Nothing could look good under those god-awful yellow lights. Something about the sight of our skin and eyes yellowed by the space made me want to hurl.

But I tried to keep it down. This convention was the first time I'd ever seen Adrian in her element. I didn't want to spoil it for her. Suddenly, I felt that thing that hangs at the back of my throat pull up. I was going to puke. I pressed my hand against the cool wall to grab. myself as I leaned over, taking deep breaths. Adrian and Jehoun just kept chatting as they continued walking.

I heard the door at the end of the hall shut behind them. I had to take a couple more deep breaths before I could speak. Adrian! I heard Adrian's muffled voice call out from behind the door. The confusion in her voice sent a shot of anger through my nausea. Had they seriously not noticed that I'd stopped following? I heard the door open in Adrians and Jehoun's footsteps run towards me.

What is wrong? Adrian reached me and started rubbing soothing circles on my back. It felt nice. It was the first nice thing I'd felt since we'd come down here. It's okay. Just let it out. I couldn't respond to her. My hand fell from the wall and planted onto my bent knee.

I wretched a few times, trying to force the puke out of my system. I could hear Jehoun's footsteps quickly tap further away from me. I glanced up at him. He was now hunched over with his hand over his mouth at the far end of the hallway. Eyes scrunched up shut. I will be sick. Adrian left me and ran up to him. My back felt cold from the absence of her warm hand. I gave up my attempts to finally get the illness out of my system and slowly straighten back up, leaning against the wall for support. I watched silently as she stood close to him, holding his arm and rubbing his back as he blinked away tears and took deep breaths. She noticed me staring and smiled.

It's the type to puke when other people puke. I'm sick. What happened? Did you eat something nasty? No, I'm sick. Obviously, I'm sick. Why did you keep walking? What?

I don't know. You're so quiet. I guess I didn't notice you stopped following. Of course she hadn't noticed. What was I compared to the prettiest guy we'd ever seen? She shifted uncomfortably. I could see in her diseased yellow eyes she was silently begging me not to blow up

and embarrass her in front of Jehoun. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Please, let's just leave. I'm not feeling well. I think maybe we're too far underground or something. Yes, Jehune, leave. I'm sick. We have to leave.

Then stay. Hey, Adrian, please, let's go. We? Just leave Jehoun here? What? Adrian, I'm sick. What part of that are you not getting? I need to leave now.

Adrian's head swung back and forth, looking between me and Jehoun. I felt my chest tighten. Just a useless fucking pantomime. She'd already picked who she prioritized the moment that guy said hello to us. She wasn't going to leave unless Jehoun came with. My head was clouded with frustration and nausea. Come on, guys. Do you really think there's a concert being held down here?

This doesn't even make sense. What kind of VIP concert would be held in a place is out of the way as this? My manager showed me the door. He told me we will perform here. Yeah. I think it's like those raves held in sewers or those exclusive bars and warehouses. You know how crazy some fans are. I think they have to be out of the way.

Yeah, but this is out of the way. My eyes shifted to Jehoun. Can you give us any more information? Who's supposed to come to this? Who's set this up? Is this normal? I do not know. My manager tells us where to be, and we just go.

The walls of the hallway felt like they were inching closer to me. I could feel my patience breaking under the strain of how absolutely helpless this man was. The damn ugly yellow fucking everything was not helping. If you're so helpless, how did you get separated from your group anyway? For an entire hour? Where were you during the meet and greet? Jehoun looked like a deer in headlights. He stumbled over his words as he panicked, trying to get the information out.

I went to find the bathroom. I got lost. I think I took a wrong turn. Calm down. He obviously didn't want to get separated. We also got lost and were late for the meet and greet, remember? So what? You think I should suffer because he didn't want to do the absolute bare minimum

and stick with his fucking group? Fucking children do better on field trips. Stop it. I'm not saying you should suffer. I'm just trying to find a solution here. I could almost taste the sickening yellow that reflected off of Adrian's pale skin. It was leaking through my pores, coating my mouth and its rankness and melting through my temples into my brain.

I didn't know if my head was heating up from nausea or rage. But I did know that I did not drive this girl four fucking hours to an event I did not want to be at just so she could suck up to some helpless man-child. Solution is, we leave. It felt like every word I said prolonged my torture. She just kept arguing. How about we just sit tight for a second and see if you start to feel better? Behind her yellow shoulder I could see the rest of the corridor. It seemed to get narrower as it got closer to the door that would take us down the next stairwell.

I couldn't take it anymore. I turned around and began walking towards the door we'd come in from, trying to keep from hurling. Leaving. Come! I didn't hear her footsteps. Adrian, come on! I couldn't will myself to turn and look at them. The conflicted look on her face was the last thing I wanted to see. Please, maybe we can...

I slipped her tote bag off my shoulder and flung it behind me. I could hear the light stick clatter on the tile as the bag hit the floor. I continued walking to where we'd come in from. Fine. I'll be in the lobby. I had to take a deep breath between words to steady my nausea. Sitting around, doing nothing. Because I'm only here for you. Before she could respond, the door shut behind me.

of course I wouldn't actually leave her there. Up the steps and back inside the hallway we had previously traversed, I slowed my pace, pausing when I reached the door that would take me further up. I looked behind me. There was no one there. I lingered for a moment, sighed, and sat down with my back against the wall, waiting for her to return. I attempted to pass the time and distract my hurt feelings by mindlessly playing games on my phone.

But as much as I tried to ignore it, the buzzing of the fluorescent lights overhead kept me trapped in reality, unable to mentally escape into the colorful candy-coded world of match-for and word puzzle games. Giving up, I tried to look up any information on a private concert being held at the convention. There was no service. Of course. Defeated once again, I dropped my phone to the side and lowered my head down to rest on top of my bent knees. Being curled up felt better. I shifted to lay on my side.

The right side of my face pressed against the cool tile floor. It was a welcoming, refreshing feeling, helping to gently cut through my nausea. I shut my eyes, finding sanctuary from the diseased yellow hall behind the pink darkness of my eyelids. Maybe I was the bad guy, I thought. Honestly, I like that thought better than the idea that Adrian would be so quick. to drop me for some pretty singer. I was kind of aggressive, but she'd dealt with my moods before.

I rolled to lay on my other side, the opposite side of my face now getting to enjoy the refreshing coolness of the tile. I didn't feel a speck of dust or dirt against my cheek. Like I was lying on the clean porcelain surface of a dinner plate rather than a grimy basement floor. Sure, maybe she was used to dealing with my temper, but Jehoun wasn't.

The image of his scrunched up face flashed in my mind. Was I that kind of bitch? The kind that yells at foreigners for making simple mistakes? My mind played a recap of me being that kind of bitch earlier in the hall below. I saw Jehoun's panicked face as I yelled at him. Brows, furrowed, eyes scrunched up as if trying to hide from my aggression within the confines of its plastic-like skin. His plastic-like skin, I corrected myself with a start.

Jesus Christ. What the fuck was wrong with me? His plastic-like skin. His plastic-like skin. His plastic-like skin. It's plastic skin. It's plastic skin. I jolted up, bouncing up onto my feet.

My hands shook as I started to pace back and forth. I was being ridiculous. I knew I was being ridiculous. But my body wouldn't listen to me. My brain kept repeating it. Plastic skin. Plastic skin. Plastic.

No, not plastic skin. Obviously not plastic skin. But something. Something was wrong. Something was so, so wrong. Heart thudding, I jogged back through the corridor and down the stairs. The hallway I had left Adrian and Jehounen was now empty. Of course.

My mind raced as I ran down the hallway, trying to justify the raw fear that coursed through my veins. I left her alone with a strange man. What the fuck was wrong with me? I passed through this hallway and down the next stairwell. A whine of despair escaped my lips when I opened the door at the bottom and found it led to another identical hallway. Adrian! I opened the door closest to me on the right side wall. The room behind it had blue mats strewn across the tile floor.

The wall directly across from me was a large mirror, the kind you'd find at a gym or dance studio. I glanced at my panicked reflection for only a moment before scurrying to check behind the other two doors. The second door opened to a room furnished like a small living room. The third door, like a fast food place from the 90s. There was no sign of Adrian or Jehoun. I cursed and ran through the last door at the end of the hall and down the next flight of stairs. I don't know how long I repeated this process. In my panic, I'd lost count of how many levels I'd gone down.

Each hall I encountered was the same, with only the small rooms differing. One looked like a little library. Another had a black park bench bolted to the floor in the middle of the room. The next room looked like the bare bones of a teenager's bedroom. One of the rooms was set up like the band room in my high school. It had plastic chairs arranged in a sea shape facing the door. Each one paired with a stand to hold sheet music. On one of these stands sat a red tote bag with the words Hero Fest printed on it,

something a visitor would carry. I ran up to inspect the bag hoping to find some evidence that there was someone else down here. It held an art print of a superhero, a map of the convention center, and a brochure for some Hero Fest convention. The date on the brochure indicated that it had taken place 10 years ago. I dropped the bag with a curse and left to disdemeanor. send the next stairwell. I went down three more levels

before I began to feel like I was losing it. Despite never deviating from a straight line, the hallways began to feel like a maze, with my friend hidden somewhere within its puzzle. There was no way in hell Adrian and Jehoun could have moved this far from me unless they were sprinting. The image of Jehoun grabbing Adrian, hand over her mouth,

dragging her into one of the many small rooms flashed into my head once again. I screamed her name, stretching out each syllable, desperation and fear fraying the edges of my voice. My stomach was in knots. I was taking choppy breaths, trying to keep from crying out of fear and guilt

as I continued by Mad Dash, checking each room before descending to the next level. I knew I'd finally reached the final level when instead of a door, the hallway in front of me led to a dead end. Two doors lined the walls of this hallway, one on the left and one on the right. At the end of the hallway,

just to the right of the dead end, there was an empty doorframe. Unlike all the other rooms I'd seen, the room behind this empty doorway wasn't lit, but I could see a faint purple light illuminating the pitch-black darkness of the space. Adrian's light stick. I felt weak with relief.

Adrian! I ran towards the empty doorway and stopped in front of it. Something tingled at the back of my neck, urging me not to go any further. I stood at the precipice of where the stark light lights of the hallway leaked into the darkness of the room. Adrian's tote bag and the glowing light stick gutting out from it were lying on the floor in the middle of the room, dimly revealing the scene in front of me in a wash of purple.

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I slowly began to make out the interior of the space. My brain reeled, trying to find an explanation as my eyes separated shadow from object. The room was furnished like a classroom. A handful of small desks and blue chairs were lined up in rows, facing the wall to my right. It looked identical to the classroom Adrian and I had taken AP Kemmon together, the class where we'd first met. Directly across from where I stood at the doorway,

some of the desks and chairs were pushed out of line. Two of the chairs lay on their side. By these disorganized seats, a lone figure sat crouched against the wall. The floor around it was covered in a dark liquid that looked almost black, in the purple light. Jehoun? It couldn't have been him. But it couldn't not have been him either.

It had his thick black hair, but the hairline was lifted and peeling off, revealing a reddish-blue surface below. Its unfocused eyes were the same shape as Jehoun's, but they were pitch black, like small pools of ink. It had his face, but its cheeks were hollowed out more than I ever would think possible.

Pale skin wrapped up. around its sharp skull. Its head was bent as it chewed on a large object it gripped in its hands. Its mouth was stained with what looked to be the same liquid that covered the floor. On both ends of the creature's lips, tiny claw appendages picked small chunks off the object in its hands and fed them into its chewing mouth. It wore his clothes, but a shirt was gathered up at its chest, resting above its inhumanly stretched out stomach.

A sick parody of a pregnant woman's body. Thin sections of the ivory skin on its stretched out stomach were cracking and peeling back, like a shell and molt. Wet, almost neon red flesh appeared below the peeling skin. My feeble attempt to call out his name again died on my lips before I could finish the first syllable. My lungs paralyzed with the rest of my body. The object it had its face buried in was a wide, flat cylinder wrapped in purple,

the same color as the shirt Adrian had been wearing. Towards the end, the creature had its face pushed into. The cloth was pulled back and folded over itself like the wrapper on a candy bar, revealing the pale skin hidden beneath it. Dark red and purple matter spilled from the edges of the porcelain flesh. The object was Adrian's headless, armless, legless torso. The creature was gorging itself on it, working its way up from the furrowing. the stomach to the armless shoulders.

I was dimly aware of the need to vomit as I felt my dizzy mind slowly float away from my paralyzed body. How long had they been alone without me? How long had it been since this? As hellish as the scene in front of me was, I couldn't close my eyes. I was sure that if I closed my eyes for even a second, if I moved even an inch, it would lunge at me. It's chewing uninterrupted.

The figure slowly began to straighten one of its skinny, bent legs, reaching its foot towards something on the ground. My eyes followed its path and fell on curled locks of dirty blonde hair splayed across the dark floor, the bottom layer coated in blood. Adrienne's hair. My eyes moved up the curled ends, following the long and wavy trail of hair to its roots. It led behind the seat of one of the overturned chairs.

The buzzing in my head got stronger. That's where her head was. Just out of sight. Hiding behind the seat of the blue classroom chair. Its foot got closer to her curls. I was going to use her hair to pull her head towards it. No! Couldn't see it.

I didn't want to see her face. For the first time since I'd got there, it stopped chewing and tilted its head to look at me. As much as I load the sound of it eating her, the sudden silence pierced me. With the arm closest to me, it let go of her torso and lazily reached towards me, long fingers outstretched. Realizing I was too far to reach, it slowly brought its arm back to Adrian's torso and sluggishly swung the leg that had been moving to her hair towards me. Similar to the skin on its stomach,

the sneakers that had once adorned Jehoun's feet were cracked and peeling. From their cracked shell, long red toes reached out to me, clenching and unclenching in the air, as if trying to grab me. Seeming to accept a feat, it indifferently went back to crunching on her ribs, its foot slowly swinging back to grab her hair. It was too engorged to move. I wish I could say I took advantage of this. That I picked up one of the chairs and bashed its head in,

that I removed the lanyard that hung around my neck and used it to strangle the thing to death to get some sort of revenge for my friend, to make sure no one would ever be hunted by that thing again, to give her parents at least a little bit of her body to bury. Some closure. But I didn't. The realization that I actually had a chance to make it out of there alive

hit me with a force I'd never felt before. It electrified my blood and like a stretched out rubber band finally allowed to snap, I shot back down the hall. I flew up the stairs. I could hardly feel my feet on the ground as I sprinted through all those halls. Passing the room with the Hero Fest bag,

the hallway where I left Adrian and Jehoun, finally shooting out of the entrance to the basement, almost crashing into a crowd of people as I flung myself across the populated first floor corridor. I ran until I reached the opposite side of the room, turning at the last minute to smash my back and hand, against the wall. My breath hitched into a broken cry as I looked towards the brown basement door.

Afraid the creature had somehow found the strength to follow me. There was no door. Across the room, the wall I had shot out from was perfectly smooth. Nearby convention attendees gawked at me as I slowly slid to the ground. It's all a blur of hopelessness, guilt, and fear after that. frantically trying to lead security to a door that wasn't there. Their assumption that I was on drugs and had simply lost my friend in a hallway I forgot the location to, having to tell her parents their daughter had just disappeared.

The disappointment in my parents' eyes, the drug test passed with flying colors, and then the unease. Visits with the police, visits with the psychiatrist, visits with our priest. all the while the image of it gnawing at her body still floated through my mind. Its shell peeling off to birth its next form. Valley Campgrounds, looking for a place to escape your busy life and reconnect with nature? Goat Valley Campgrounds features 300 acres of quiet forest and peaceful scenery for you to enjoy. Come meet Kate.

She runs the place, like her parents before her. We know you'll enjoy your stay as long as you behave yourself and follow the rules. Your survival depends on it. The No Sleep Podcast presents Goat Valley Campgrounds Season 2 by Bonnie Quinn. Chapter 5. Perhaps I am a monster. I've had that accusation leveled at me by people around the town. I've been hearing it my whole life.

Oh, look, it's little Kate, the daughter of the campground owners. She's going to turn out just like her mother, and we all know how her mother is. Can't say they're wrong. I inherited her temper and her penchant for violence. My mom didn't grow up on the campground, but it sure did suit her once she moved in. Even with Pertha's rather pointed warning, I can't seem to stop myself when I'm angry. But I think my father's influence is lurking somewhere in there as well. Just a quiet voice that waits for its opportunity to gently whisper that there's a different way, a better way, a way that doesn't get people killed or hurt by my hand.

I don't listen to it very often. My anger is comforting. It makes me feel strong. Makes me feel safe. I don't like what I am without my anger. Just a scared little girl. Listening to the beast outside her bedroom window. but I'm starting to dislike what I am with it.

My name is Kate, and this is Goat Valley Campgrounds. I had this scenario concocted in my head for when I met the person that wants to buy my campground. There'd be something irredeemable about them, some horrible, awful quality that would give me an excuse, no, an obligation to remove him from the town, permanently, with violence. The man with no shadow knows me too well.

The buyer is so boring and oblivious that all hope of an angry confrontation died as soon as I saw him. I swear, it felt like if I raised my voice with him, he'd crumpled like a wet tissue. He wouldn't back out, though. He can't back out. The man with no shadow won't let him. Sure, he acts all cheerful and enthusiastic, but this isn't his own idea. There's no way it's his idea.

How does someone who has the body mass and energy level of a squirrel on speed decide he's got to take over hundreds of acres of undeveloped land? Has he ever downed a rotten tree? Has he even held an axe? It's so great to meet you. I've been anxious to get away from the city, and Goat Valley Campgrounds is everything I've been hoping for. Oh, that's great.

Yeah, but, you know, I'm still thinking this whole deal over. Yeah, I get it. It's a big decision. Don't worry. Take your time. I got a rental in town for a little bit anyway. Want to get a feel for things, taking the fresh air and local culture, you know?

That fresh air has more pigmentew in it than you think. think? What? Nothing. I guess I have a soft spot for pathetic things. Surprised even me. I was even thinking I'd love to try camping out while I'm here. See what it's like from your visitor's perspective, you know? How do I book a stay? You can't. We're full. It looked pretty empty on the way in. We rotate the land that's available so tents don't kill all the grass. The land that's open right now is full. If he'd bothered to try booking through the website, he'd find out this was all a blatant lie. I clenched my teeth and gave him my best customer service smile. I was doing him a favor, really.

It had certainly crossed my mind that letting him camp here would be an easy way to get rid of him. But that wasn't a solution I could resort to anymore. The thread that Perkeda stuck through my belly sat in my nightstand, rest red with dried blood, so that I saw it every night as I went to bed. I hate to say this, the man with no shadow was right. I had no justification for killing his pawn. It didn't bring me closure. It just made me feel ashamed.

Oh, I should have guessed that, I suppose. Seeing as there's a line outside waiting to get in, they were forming up when I got here. A line? There shouldn't be a line. At our big events, yeah, there is absolutely a line. This was the middle of the week and we were almost empty. You know what?

I better go help with that. Sounds like the gate staff are getting backed up and need a hand. It was a pleasure to meet you. If you want to talk about the sale of the campground, Further, give me a call and I'll schedule some time. At least he could take a hint. I escorted him to his car outside my office. He was all sunshine and smiles,

and then gave him instructions to exit via the North Gate. Then I got on my four-wheeler and drove out to the main gate. It was not a line. It was an angry mob. Well, as much of an angry mob as a town of our size can muster, that is. So about a dozen people. It was still disconcerting to see, especially since some of them were carrying Kate as the real monster signs.

These are people I knew. We shopped at the same grocery store. I'd even got to school with some of them. It was damned uncomfortable seeing them worked up like that. But it wouldn't help to be angry, but it wouldn't help to bring anger into it. I've been the target of their ire before, but not to this extent. My stomach twisted into an uncomfortable knot as I parked the four-wheeler and swung myself off.

I sternly reminded myself to be polite. They were here looking for a confrontation, and they probably thought that good old Kate would be happy to oblige. What with my family's anger and all boiling inside me? I can't say they were entirely wrong. I wanted to go out there and punch the closest one right in the middle of his stupid face. Apparently, they didn't need me to lose my temper to escalate, however. Just the sight of me walking towards them was enough. One of them tucked his sign under one arm and began forcing the gate open.

It wasn't locked. It was just heavy and awkward. The road is uneven dirt And that doesn't help the wheels stay on the track any What the hell are you doing? This is private property. I ran for the gate and grabbed it from the other side. The crowd surged closer, screaming at me mere inches away.

Only the metal fencing separated us. And even that was quickly yielding. As strong as I am, it's hard to wrestle a gate closed when that many people are trying to force it open. Then I heard a familiar voice. Move. Get back. Everyone back.

The sheriff moved in from behind, elbowing and bodily shoving people out of the way. The crowd was slow to react, sluggishly turning like a bunch of dumb cows at the sound of the sheriff's voice. He waited through them, finally reaching the person that had started to open the gate in the first place. The man had one leg through the opening and was about to squeeze through the rest of the way. What part of private property is hard to understand? And he seized the man and dragged him backwards, throwing him towards the rest of the mob. Then, with a bit of breathing room cleared away, he stepped inside the perimeter of the fence and slid the gate closed behind him. I wasted no time in taking up the chain and padlock and locking it closed.

Seriously? You're helping me? I take my job as sheriff seriously. Besides, you're liable to start shooting people with that shotgun of yours if they actually got inside. I would not, thank you very much. But what exactly is going on? I tried to tell you I wasn't the only one unhappy with how things are being. and run around here. The yelling had grown in intensity once I appeared.

It's amazing how noisy even a handful of people can be. One of them even grabbed the fence again and shook it, rattling the chain on its track. This prompted Sabota to look back and fix the culprit with an evil glare. They stopped, but the shouting continued. Sell your land. We don't want you here. Can you talk them down? I could, I suppose.

But you're not going to. Knife. Figure this out yourself, Kate. Geez, stop a person once and they never let you forget it. I didn't think I could intimidate them into leaving. These were the dedicated few that were committed to chasing me out of town. There was no sense of self-preservation to appeal to. The rest of the town folk that were still in my corner weren't here to pressure them into silence.

My best hope for getting them to leave was to appease them. Okay, Kate, be diplomatic. Be like that. I think I can guess what this is about, and I just want you all to know. Oh, that I've just spoken to the buyer. That's right. It was just in my office. Nice guy.

Maybe too nice, in fact. Owning the campground requires a bit of heavy hands sometimes. Wouldn't be any different than anyone else's land if you were gone. That's true. But your land isn't so safe, is it? Remember what we did with Louise's parents? Cut them both in half and buried one part at each end of the field? That was your grandfather's doing.

The town helped because it had to be done. You want us to go back to that? The town having to put their own lives on the land and sacrifice their own blood, that's what you're asking for? Maybe. Maybe not, but we want you gone, Kate. I told you, I'm talking to the buyer. You're asking for a lot for me. This is a big decision, and I had a funeral to plan in case you forgot. Give me a little time, okay?

You've had generations of time. We're reaching the end of our patience. We want to see movement on this, Kate, or we'll come back. The threat was obvious. I struggled to keep my face neutral and not let my anger show. I'm not sure if I succeeded. I couldn't help but impart one last parting shot to their backs as they walked towards the row of cars parked alongside the road.

Better book a reservation if you do return! Not the only thing on this land that dislikes trespassers! I watched until their vehicles were out of sight. Then I went back to where Sabota had been silently watching the entire exchange. Don't get me wrong. I appreciate the help with the gate. But what about maybe preventing the same? situation in the first place.

Thought you said you took your job as sheriff seriously. I wouldn't even be sheriff if it weren't for your damn campground. The dates in my mother's journal. They coincided with Sabota announcing he was running for sheriff for the first time. The man with no shadow made you do this, didn't he? Finally figured it out, did you? How'd he catch you? I don't think you visited the campground much at all.

I didn't. He came to me. I was at home and he knocked a lot. on the door and asked me about a trailer I was selling at the time. Conversation went on long enough that, uh, well... He looked away, down at the ground, and the line of his jaw tightened as he clenched his teeth in helpless anger. He can't leave the campground. Well, he did. Guess someone let him out.

Someone from my family. Only someone from my family has the authority to do such a thing. Someone, like my man. mother, who wrote the dates down in her journal in an obscure way so that no one would figure out what she'd done. My head spun. It felt like I couldn't breathe. It took a moment for me to realize Sabota was still talking, and I wrenched my attention back to the conversation. Look, all that being said, even without that, I think I'd still hate you. You're not a very likable person. So I've heard, but you can talk about him now? He's allowing it? He's been ignoring me since Russell came back. What's it like?

Being under his influence, that is. Maybe that was an uncomfortable question to ask, but I desperately wanted to know. It's like having someone whispering in your ear. Even when they're silent, you know they're there, just about to speak. He's always there. Always. I've had him in my head for a long time now. I don't think he'll like me telling you this, but I guess I don't care.

Almost dying gives you a weird sort of courage. Do you know what he's planning? No, I only knew what his instructions were. He wanted you forced into a position where you have to sell the campground. I guess I'm not a viable pawn anymore because I'm not being asked to do anything else. He's not given up, though. He's got backup plans on top of backup plans. I'm sorry you got caught up in this.

Yeah, a bit too late for some. Sorry. Do you think I should sell? If it means that all these creatures would be set loose? He thought about it for a long time, and my heart pounded in my chest, afraid to hear his response. Honesty is terrifying like that. It strips away our excuses and our lies and leaves us a drift in a world that's no longer familiar. I don't.

This town, it needs the campground. Losing it would throw a lot of people straight into poverty. And then all those creatures you harbor would be set loose into our community to prey on the weak and vulnerable. But, Kate, this whole thing. He gestured at the road leading into town, upon which the angry mob had departed. He is not entirely the fault of the man with no shadow. This town is realizing they've made a deal with the devil, and they're not like in what they see when they look in the mirror.

You're the devil in case you didn't realize. I did figure that out all my own, thank you very much. This town needs more industry, more businesses, something else to bring in revenue. Maybe when my term as sheriff is over, I'll let Russell take it back over and I'll run for a position on the council or something. See if I can make that happen.

Make you, well, unnecessary. Honestly, I can't get mad at that. I get mad at that. I get it. And be good for the town. I do blame you for one thing, though. You should be trying harder to kill the things that live here. It isn't enough to contain them. Some of them need to be destroyed.

Here, I have a gift for you. He handed me a pistol. Oh, I have a shotgun, you know. It's too obvious. Everyone can see you carrying it. Take that. And aim where the man's shadow. should be.

I admit, I was skeptical of his suggestion. Seemed like the sort of thing the man with no shadow would do. Use Sabota to convince me to do something dumb like hunt him out in the deep woods or even in his grove. Throw me a bit of hope and then see if I was angry enough to do something rash. As it turned out, I didn't get the time to even consider it. The man with no shadow came to me. He was waiting on the road.

He stood well away from the trees lining the edge so that full sunlight fell upon. on him and his red hair shone like fire. His expression was smug. I held one hand behind my waist, keeping the gun out of sight. This is a fun game, isn't it? I'm enjoying it. The anger mob you're doing? They all under your control?

All of them? Goodness, no. It doesn't take much to set them against you. You desperately don't want to admit that the town hates you. They were all a bit relieved when your grandfather died. And you're scared that perhaps they're starting to feel the same about you. They think you're weak. Maybe you are losing your uncle like that.

I'm going to take a crowbar to your head just like I killed the master of the vanishing house. His smile faltered. His eyes narrowed. His confidence melting into wary calculation. You don't try to kill us normally. You only go after the stupid or weak things. What's changed? What changed?

You're fucking with my campground now, with the town, with my family! He smiled, showing perfectly human white teeth. That same smug smile I've seen on the faces of other people around town, betraying their unwilling loyalties. I really got under your skin with killing your uncle, didn't I? Did you see how he was reaching for his radio? Trying to call for help? But you weren't there, were you? You're never in time.

and he died as they all die. Shut up! Something in me snapped, and I took the sheriff's advice. To be fair, it wasn't bad advice. The man with no shadow did need to die. I'd just been underestimating his capabilities. I shot him in the space where his shadow should go, just as the sheriff suggested.

The bullet hit the ground in a cloud of dust, and the man with no shadow shrieked in agony. His body spasmed as he fell heavily to his hands and knees, one hand clutching at his ribs. Blood leaked between his fingers and fell in a heavy stream to the dusty ground beneath him. And I aimed for where I approximated his head to be, and then? I hesitated. I didn't expect to see him writhing in pain.

His body was crumpled in shock and agony, eyes wide with the terrified realization that his life was now numbered in seconds. I expected his hatred. I expected him to fight, to curse me. That's what I always get when I go. to kill someone. Sometimes it's an inhuman and sometimes it's not. But that frustration, that anger is always right there and it's being stoked inside my chest and it just makes it so easy to do what needs to be done. But that anger had been carrying me along for a while now, ever since my uncle died

and I was exhausted. I was a monster. I'd killed the man with no shadow's pawn and that had only made me feel worse. It wasn't vengeance and it didn't help. just left behind an ache and a grief that made me feel hollow inside. My hesitation was numbered in mere seconds, but it was enough for him to save himself. He twisted, face contorted in rage and agony, and he raised his blood-stained hand in my direction, gripped the air tight, his knuckles white,

and I felt something grab hold of my shadow, like a shiver up my spine, but sharp as a knife. He pulled, something gave, and white agony blinded me, drove me to the ground, and all I could do was scream, digging my fingers into my shoulder as my body told me that my arm was gone, that there was nothing there, even as my fingernails clutched at numb flesh. I'm not sure how long it took for me to regain my wits. Agony has a way of distorting time, narrowing your thoughts so that it is all you know,

so that you forget yourself and everything is driven from your mind except a desperate desire to be free of it. I next remember being on my knees, my forehead pressed against the ground, my fingers clutching a shoulder that I could barely feel. My shadow's arm was gone. Only a tattered end remained behind, and the man with no shadow was also gone. I found a trail of blood that led into the woods. I didn't dare follow it, now with my right arm hanging limp at my side. I could feel my fingers, but only a faint tingling. I couldn't move me. them. I suppose I'm lucky that he didn't do worse, that his priority was to get the gun out of my hand and taking the arm was the fastest way to do it. I stumbled to my house, the pain in my arm,

a sharp, twisting knot that left me winded. At the worst of it, right before I reached my front door, I doubled over and swayed as I waited for it to pass. At that moment, I remembered something. A moment I saw and heard, but only distantly, to be replayed. as if in a dream. I remembered the man with no shadow, huddled with his back to me as I thrashed in pain on the ground, crouching low to the road.

The gutteral sound of eating as he consumed the stolen piece of my shadow. Then he rose and staggered away into the woods. I called the old sheriff. I told him I needed help and he came as quickly as he could. Hell, Kate.

You look like death. What happened? Look at my shadow. How's the real arm? Not great. Can't really feel it. Okay. Tell me what happened, and we'll figure this out.

I did. I didn't leave anything out. Then I hesitated. And he tore my shadow's arm off and fled. You hesitated? I know, I know. I just felt different this time. I stopped being angry for just a few seconds, and it was like,

I couldn't do anything without my anger. Well, that was probably your father's influence. Hard when he needed to be, but his heart broke over everyone that was harmed or killed, human or not. You tend to take after your mother. So I've been told. At least we know how to hurt him now. We'll get another shot of killing him.

I'm sure of it. The old sheriff stood to leave. He moved stiffly, and I feel. felt a pang of guilt for involving him. He'd aged during his stay in the vanishing house, and it was catching up. I don't know if I'd trust myself anymore. Don't overthink it. You've gone through a lot lately.

Besides, you're not the only one that's handy with a gun. We knew how to hurt the man with no shadow. And I heard the promise in the old sheriff's voice. If I couldn't pull the trigger, then he would. Valley Camp Grounds Season 2 was written and adapted for audio by Bonnie Quinn. Produced for the No Sleep podcast by Phil Mikulski. Musical score composed by Brandon Boone. Starring Lindsay Russo as Kate, Joel Blackwell as The Buyer,

David Cummings as Sheriff Sabota, Ilana Charnel as the Townie. Graham Rowett as the man with no shadow, and Jesse Cornett as Russell. Join us next week for Chapter 6 of Goat Valley Campgrounds, season 2. Our tales may be over, but they are still out there. Be sure to join us next week so you can stay safe, stay secure, and stay sleepless. The No Sleep podcast is pretty much. Presented by Creative Reason Media. The musical score was composed by Brandon Boone.

Our production team is Phil Mikulski, Jeff Clement, Jesse Cornett, and Claudius Moore. Our editorial team is Jessica McAvoy, Ashley McAnally, Ollie A. White, and Kristen Samito. To discover how you can get even more sleepless horror stories from us, Just visit sleepless. Dot the no sleeppodcast.com to learn about the sleepless sanctuary. Add free extended episodes each week and lots of bonus content for the dark hours, all for one low monthly price. On behalf of everyone at the No Sleep Podcast, we thank you for joining us and seeking safety from the things that stock us in the night.

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