The NoSleep Podcast - S25 Ep1: NoSleep Podcast S25E01

Episode Date: August 23, 2026

The 25th Season of The NoSleep Podcast premieres with tales drawn from the frequency of fear."The Breathing Woods" by Cosmic Dread (Story starts around 00:03:40)Produced by Jeff ClementCast: Sarah - Erin Lillis, Marcus - Jeff Clement"Driving Blind" by B.T. Stanley (Story starts around 00:23:00)TRIGGER WARNING!Produced by Jeff ClementCast: Ellie - Ash Millman, Lily - Erika Sanderson, Phone - Danielle McRae, Hooligan #1 - David Ault, Hooligan #2 - James Cleveland, Hooligan #3 - Jake Benson, Officer - Andy Cresswell"The Death Zone" by E. Gallagher (Story starts around 00:47:10)Produced by Jesse CornettCast: Narrator - Marie Westbrook, Trip - Jake Benson, Leah - Danielle McRae"This Old Condo" by Asher Ellis (Story starts around 01:16:10)Produced by Phil MichalskiCast: Pete - Mike DelGaudio, Pete - Atticus Jackson"Winter Weather Advisory" by Rye Clarke (Story starts around 01:41:40)Produced by Phil MichalskiCast: Caitlin - Sarah Ruth Thomas, Laura - Linsay Rousseau, Todd - Jesse Cornett, Jodie - Mary Murphy, Coal eater #1 - Kyle Akers, Coal eater #2 - Atticus JacksonThis episode is sponsored by:Vinted - Vinted is a secondhand marketplace app with a mission to make second-hand your first choice. Vinted helps their members find great deals and easily sell the clothes they no longer wear - giving quality items a second life, again and again.Quince - Build your wardrobe with pieces from Quince that mix well and last. Go to Quince.com/nosleep to get free shipping and a 365-day return period.Click here to learn more about The NoSleep Podcast team Executive Producer & Host: David CummingsMusical score composed by: Brandon Boone"Winter Weather Advisory" illustration courtesy of Krys HookuhThe NoSleep Podcast is Human-made for Human Minds. No generative AI is used in any aspect of work.Audio program ©2026 - Creative Reason Media - The copyrights for each story are held by the respective authors. No duplication or reproduction of this audio program is permitted without the written consent of Creative Reason Media. No part of this audio program may be used or reproduced in any manner for the purpose of training artificial intelligence technologies or systems. All rights reserved.

As you, the no sleep. You're listening to the No Sleep Podcast. Thanks for making us part of your horror soundtrack. I'm your host, David Cummings. We are delighted to welcome you to the 25th season of the No Sleep Podcast. In traditional folklore, 25 is the silver anniversary. For us, that doesn't mean jewelry. It means we finally have enough silver to forge the,

bullets. And with our new season, we're going to focus on something that might seem rather obvious for an audio production like ours. The focus is on the sounds of horror, audio nightmares, or as I'm calling it, the frequency of fear. From the very first episode of this podcast, our focus has been to adapt stories to audio by combining the words with, music, sound effects, and audio sound design to enhance the horror. And I'm sure we all realize how much terror can come from sounds. Those haunting footsteps heard in an empty attic above. The creak of a door opening when you're alone in the house.

The whisper that floats past your ear just as you're falling into sleep. The things we hear can be as devastatingly terrifying as the things. we see, and we want to bring you auditory terror that will stick with you long after the stories are over. So, make sure you have some good headphones. Settle into a quiet space, and close your eyes. Let the sounds transport you into a world where horror surrounds you and embraces you. It's season 25, and it's time to listen up. Now, brace yourself for the frequency of fear. In our first tale, we meet Sarah and Marcus, two friends out for a hike,

and they've split up to see which path to the scenic outlook is the best. But in this tale, shared with us by author Cosmic Dread, Sarah is waiting for Marcus to show up. His lateness is making her worried, and all she really wants is to hear the sound of his voice. This tale has been produced by Jeff Clement and features performances by Aaron Lillis and Jeff Clement. So listen for the sounds of the forest.

Is that a voice, or is it the breathing woods? 20 minutes of calling out Marcus' name was when I stopped pretending everything was all right. The plan was simple. split at the fork, meet at the overlook in 45 minutes. Marcus goes high, I go low, and we'd argue over whose view was better like we'd been doing since our college backpacking trips. Except Marcus was 30 minutes overdue,

and my phone was dead, and the forest had gone quiet in a way that gave me the creek. I doubled back to the junction, hiked up onto the high trail, and called his name, my throat already hurting. The red markers were there on the trees in the same pattern the trail map said they'd be. Yet something wasn't quite right.

This basing of them, maybe? Or, and this was the maddening thing. They seemed to shift when I wasn't looking directly at them. Come on, Sarah. I'll pull yourself together. I stopped, puffing harder than the incline really required. I was 42 and out of shape, and I felt every one of those ears.

Marcus was probably at the parking lot already, checking his watch, wondering what on earth was taking me so long. Except he wouldn't do that. He would wait. Marcus always waited. The smell seemed to coalesce out of the air. Rotten sweetness, heavy enough to choke on. Something must have died in the underbrush and stayed there, rotting. I pulled my sleeve across my nose. My eyes were burning.

Must be a deer. Maybe a bear kill. The ranger that morning had promised us the black bears around here usually avoided people. Usually. I went on. My boots grated on rock and bear roots. Above me, the branches tangled like fingers knitting together. I looked away, but the image had already rooted itself in my mind.

Cut it out to your spoof because Marcus is like. and you've been watching too much true crime TV. That's when I heard the breathing. Deep, rhythmic, deliberate. I froze in my tracks. That wasn't me. I'd stopped, wasn't even breathing that hard for a second there. This was off to my left, off the trail,

in the woods where no one had any business being. In, out. In, slow. Patient. Like something asleep that wasn't quite asleep. Marcus? My voice came out wrong, too small, too scared. The breathing didn't change.

Didn't stop. Didn't quicken. Just kept on. Steady as a metronome. Not very human. I knew it and hated myself for knowing it. My hand fumbled for the bear spray holstered on my belt. What had the rangers said?

Make noise, make yourself big, back away slowly. But this wasn't a bear. Bears didn't breathe like that, all measured and intentional, all aware. I stepped back once. My gaze tore at the woods darkening. Wait, darkening? I glanced at my watch. 3.47 p.m. hours of daylight left.

Yet the shadows under the trees had deepened to almost solidity, pooling in the low spots like oil movement at the corner of my eye. I whipped my head around, nothing. Trees and underbrush and that infernal breathing. But the second I turned back, I saw it again in my periphery. Something large, pacing me as I backed down the trail. I have bear spray. My voice shook.

I hated that but couldn't stop it. I'm leaving. Right now, I don't want any trouble. The breathing ceased. Silence hit like a punch. Worse in a way than the breathing. My entire body screamed at me, that old reptile brain that warns you

when something's watching you when you've become the prey? All the horror movie cliches crashed through my head. Don't turn around. Don't run. I stopped suddenly. Seeing something off the trail. Bones were scattered over a flat rock.

Small bones. Finger bones. My brain added unhelpfully, uselessly. Spirrely arranged. And in the center, one tooth. Too big for a human. Not quite right for an animal. either. Yellow and serrated, curved like a fish hook, and it gleamed wetly in the failing light as though it had just been

torn from someone's mouth. My stomach lurched. I stumbled backward, almost fell, and that was when I heard Marcus behind me. Relief hit so hard, I almost cried. Marcus! Oh, thank God! I'm right here. I mean... Sarah! His voice was in front now. That wasn't... Sound doesn't do that. Behind me.

No, to the left. No, the voice is repeated. Marcus voices, superimposed over Marcus voices, shouting my name in every direction. Some were a little off kilter, some with the cadence, just half a beat off. I clamped my hands over my ears, but I could still hear them.

All those almost Marcus' voices echoing through the trees. I ran. Red markers flashed by like warnings of peril. Breath came in rags, heart thudding against my ribs. A great something crashed through the underbrush, behind, a head beside, keeping pace while I stumbled and flailed like wounded prey. The breathing started again. All around this time, the whole forest inhaled and exhaled,

and the trees swayed in rhythm with invisible lungs. In, out, in, out, waiting. Timeless, patient. I dropped into a clearing I didn't recognize. The overlook should have been there. I could have sworn it, but what I'd stumbled upon was a ring of exposed earth circled by gnarled oaks,

whose roots writhed above ground like snakes turned to stone. Marcus stood in the middle. I ran to him crying. Something's at him with this place. We have to get him. He turned around. It was Marcus, his face, his gear, his concerned look. But his eyes were wrong.

Pupils expanded so wide they took up the whole iris. And when he smiled, there were too many teeth. Just a bit. Just enough to make a difference. You found me. His voice was okay, except that it was happening behind him. A half-second delay like watching a movie with bad audio sync. I backed away.

Bears spray between us. What are you? I'm Marcus. It took a step forward. Don't you recognize your old friend? Where's the real, Marcus? The thing wearing Marcus's skin cocked its head, considering. Does it matter?

You called him, I answered. The breathing enveloped us now. Eminating from the trees, I finally grasped. From all the trees. Every shadow, every grass blade, all of it alive and wading and hungry. The red markers. You changed them. You've been leading me here.

Not Marcus, smiled wider. So easy to turn back. One marker moved when you weren't looking. One path that doubles back. Humans never notice. You trust your maps. more than your senses. My finger was on the trigger of the spray.

Let me go. But you wanted to find your friend. It gestured to the edge of the clearing. Marcus was on the ground in the ferns, not moving. Packed, torn open, things spilling out. I couldn't see his face. Didn't need to. The angle of his neck told.

me everything. What did you do? Nothing. The way it was said made me believe. He fell. Happens all the time. So easy to lose the trail. So easy to take one wrong step. It moved a step near. Its shadow didn't match its body going too long, spreading like roots. But you, you're different. You kept calling. Your voice led us. The breathing was now louder. The trees seemed closer.

The clearing was shrinking. Roots inching inwards and shadows reached out with finger-like branches. I sprayed. Orange mist splattered, not marked. right in the face. It didn't blink. Just stood there, wearing my friend's face while the chemicals dripped off like water on stone.

And it laughed, like wind through an empty skull, hollow and never-ending. I ran. I didn't know where, just away, away from the clearing, the thing, Marcus's broken body. The woods closed around me. branches whipped my face roots stretched out to snag at my feet the breathing came next that slow in out in out and beneath it i could hear things forcing their way through the undergrowth more than one closing in i crashed through the underbrush and suddenly there the trail red markers pointing the way down i didn't ask questions didn't ask myself why it was here i just rang

following the markers down and down and down. The parking lot materialized like an oasis. My car, Marcus's truck parked beside it. My hands shook so badly I almost dropped the keys. The engine roared to life on the first turn of the key. I backed it up in a shower of gravel, not noticing where I was going, just a way to get to town, get help, bring back Marcus.

Mirror at the tree line. myself. Same clothes, same face, same look of utter terror, standing perfectly still, watching the car drive away. I drove, I knew, gut level, bone deep, that wasn't my reflection, that was the woods trying on my skin for size. The ranger station was vacant. A back-and-thirty-minute sign leaned crookedly on the door. I sat there, engine running, hands tied on the wheel, waiting. My watch said 4.15 p.m.

Impossible. I'd been in the woods for hours. It should be dark, unless I checked my phone for the date. Same day. My gaze fell to the road behind, back to the parking lot, the trailhead, the breathing woods.

I could see them from here, a dark blot on the horizon, waiting. I thought of Marcus, of returning. Then I looked down at my hands, dirt under my fingernails that hadn't been there this morning. I breathed in, under my fear, sweat, and the car air freshener, something else. Faint, but there. wrought, sweet and heavy, from my clothes, my hair, my skin. In, out. In, out.

I drove. Away from the station, away from the woods, away from what was left of Marcus in that clearing, drove until I hit the highway, then drove on, checking the mirror for anything following. But the road stayed empty. The only breath was. mine. Hours later, I stopped. A gas station several towns over. I looked at myself in the mirror of the bathroom. My face, my eyes, everything exactly as it should be. Standing behind me in the reflection, just visible at the edge of the mirror, something tall and wrong stood watching.

I didn't turn around, didn't scream, didn't run. I knew because deep down in a place I didn't care to look too closely at, no matter how far I drove. I had taken too many wrong turns. The woods had my scent now, and the woods were patient. I exited the bathroom, got in my car, and merged onto the highway. In the back seat, barely visible in the rear view, something stirred in the darkness, something that breathed in perfect harmony with my tires humming on asphalt. In...

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Download the Vinted app for free and start listing. With no seller fees, you keep. every dollar you earn. Thanks for your support, Vinted, and for helping us have a cleaner closet and a fuller wallet. Listen closely as we return to the frequency of fear. They say if you lose one of your senses, the others can become more acute. And if you're like Ellie, her diminished vision means she relies on her other senses to get around. She's also helped by her dear friend a Lily who helps guide her through the world. But in this tale, shared with us by author B.T. Stanley, Ellie is taken on an unexpected car trip. And no, Ellie isn't the one driving. This tale has been produced

by Jeff Clement and features performances by Ash Millman, Erica Sanderson, Danielle McCray, David Alt, James Cleveland, Jake Benson, and Andy Cresswell. So it's tough enough on the roads with all your senses. Even more horrifying is finding yourself driving blind. It's alien. Beside me, Lily laughs. Took your bloodhound nose long enough to figure that out. I grin and sink back into the worn cloth seat,

still faintly smelling of takeaway chips and car freshener. After all the perfume you sprayed at the boot sample counter, even I'm not that quick. Lily signals to overtake, the indicator ticking in time with the rhythm I drum against my knee. Don't know about you, but Brighton's drained me. You still fancy that up marketplace, or should we just grab a takeaway and crash at mine? Takeaway works? Where are we now? They're not skirts of New Haven. They don't take cards, we'll have to get some cash out. I nod, listening to the world blur past.

The rush of cars, a distant siren, and the uneven growl of Lily's battered old Ford Fiesta. The sort of car every student buys cheap and regrets later. At least we lost that weirdo at the mall. Yeah, I must have thought we were wearing his clothes the way he kept looking us up and down. The engine lets out a loud, throaty grumble, as if backing her up. God, I swear that backstreet garage sold me the mother of all bangers. A piece of crap's going to conch out at this rate. But it was.

I say, slipping into a half-hearted impression of her mum. Then I grin. Knowing your look, it's probably a cut and shut. She snorts and pulls up at the curb. Got a cash point. Be back in a sec, Ellie. Leaving the engine running, she climbs out and slams the door. I wince.

She's got a thing about that. Car doors, flat doors, and especially the ones on campus. I stare out the window. I can tell the sky's grey. That's about it. Evening in, traffic rumbling past, the blurry shapes of the car's interior swimming in the dim light.

Lily is more than a bestie. I've got Labour's congenital amaurosis, a fancy way of saying I can't see much. Just light and shadow. Nothing useful. Lily and I grew up on the same street, so she got used to me without the awkwardness or nerves most people show. We went through college together and now uni.

She makes things easier, explaining what's around us, helping me get comfortable in new places until they feel familiar. She's my main guide. I can't stand white can't stand white canes, and guide dogs never really click with me. My thoughts drift to what I'll order from the Chinese. Egg fried rice with plenty of extra egg and... The driver's door opens.

The seat creaks, and it closes softly this time before we pull away. That was quick. Silence. Lily rarely talks while she's navigating, so I give it a few seconds. The car reaches the end of the road, then takes a sharp left. That was quick. I try again. Still nothing.

I'm about to ask what's up when a deafening crash erupts back along the road. A shattering, crows. grinding roar that rattles through the car and makes my chest seize. What the hell was that? I twist in my seat even though I can't see a thing. Lily says nothing. The car just accelerates. Lily? What happened? Still nothing. Only the growl of the engine rising in pitch.

Maybe she'd seen something earlier? Something that scared her. She could be on autopilot or deep-rooted shock, just focused on getting us out of here. "'Lill. "'Normally she'd react when I call to that, "'but not this time. "'A strange smell invades my nostrils. "' Boot polish. "'That doesn't make sense.

"'The scent is literally alien this time. "'Lilly, like me, is a tracksuit and trainer's girl. "'Not the type to wear boots, let alone polish them, "'and not tightens in my chest. "'Lilly? "'This time it comes out more like a question. The car jerks hard right, tires squealing, and anxiety hardens into fear. Slowly, and I'll admit, reluctantly, I reach out to touch her arm and get a jolt of pure terror.

There's no one there. For a moment, I try to rationalise it. Maybe she'd lean the seat back for some reason. I reach out, feeling the air where she should have been. Nothing. My hand brushes the headrest, then the back rest, empty. I drop my hand to the cushion beneath, half expecting warmth or movement, but there is only cold fabric and a faint draught,

which makes no sense because the air conditioning is off. Lily! I fumble over the driver's seats, then reach into the back seats. And I don't know why. Nothing. I am alone in a car that is driving itself, calm as you like, as if this were just another Sunday drive. Have the handbrake slipped?

I dismissed that idea almost instantly. Maybe a tow truck had hooked us, but surely I'd have heard the chains, the clunk, something. The car hooks are left, then overtakes something, the indicator ticking softly near the wheel. The wheel? I reach out, and I'd actually feel it turning beneath my hand. The same cold air hits me again, sharp and tingling,

like pins and needles running through my skin, as if something invisible has brushed past. The car breaks hard. Its horn blares as it swerves around what I guess is an oncoming vehicle, judging by the shouted curses and the retaliatory hornblast as we shoot by. Then it straightens out, changes a big ear, and takes another turn. A single, sharp beep sounds from the built-in sat-nav. I recognise it instantly.

The warning for a speed camera. The car eases down, a slow, obedient crawl, almost human in the way it lingers, then shoots forward again, engine whining as if proud of itself. I try to breathe, to think, my heart is racing faster than the car itself. If it stops, I'll scream the place down, but there is no sign of that happening. Jumping out crosses my mind, but we'd have to be doing 50. Best case, I'd shatter every bone in my body. Worst, I wouldn't get up again. There has to be something, anything I can do.

My phone, I yank open my hoodie pocket and press the side button. Siri, call emergency services. Nothing. Siri, turn off voiceover. I shout, thinking the screen reader is frozen. Still nothing. The phone isn't responding. I hold it up, waiting for the glow of the screen.

Nothing. No light, no sound? It is frigid, the casing radiating the same tingling cold I'd felt near the wheel. Shit. Another desperate theory hits me. Maybe it's some kind of hack. I dismiss that idea, too. This isn't a self-driving car. This thing is worth five grand on a good day. Not one of those hundred grand robo-taxies. A new dread.

settles over me. I... I... I don't have any money. Oh, God. What if they don't want money at all? Cold sweat breaks across my skin as the unnatural chill continues to seep through the car.

It isn't just fear. It is that deep, suffocating dread that crawls inside and won't let go. My breathing hitches. I can almost feel eyes on me, close enough to touch. I screthew. I didn't plan to. It just tore out of me, raw and jagged, bouncing off the windows and back into my ears.

My throat burns, my chest locks, but the sound does nothing. Whoever, or whatever, is driving, doesn't react. Not at first. The air grows colder, so cold it feels like my lungs might freeze from the inside. Then, suddenly, the wipers flick on, a soft tongue. The jails. gentle sweep of water against the glass. For a heartbeat, it's almost soothing, but the car is trying to calm me down. The thought barely forms before the radio crackles to life. A classical station, violins weaving through static, oddly tender, drifting through my panic like a lullaby I didn't ask for. The car slows and a synthetic female voice breaks the silence. Your destination is on the left, Dragon Pub. The car rolls.

to a stop. I don't wait. My thumb slams into the seatbelt release. Somehow, through the whole insane ride, still been wearing it. It doesn't move. The button is locked solid. I twist, try to squirm free.

I'm slim, so I have this ridiculous idea I can slide out from under it. The belt tightens suddenly. Not cruelly, just firmly. The engine cuts, out, splutters back to life, then dies again. Almost as if the car is trying to make up its mind. My hand shoots to the door handle, yanking hard. Nothing. Locked. Feel for the door pin. One of those old ones you can pull up manually. But it's slick, like it's been greased. Not me or Lily's doing.

We always keep wet wipes in the car for when we eat. Voices echo nearby. Close. I twist the window crank, desperate to get it open. It won't budge. Wedged solid. I hammer the glass with the side of my fist. The engine roars in response, a warning snarl. Through the panic, I finally register the voices outside. Mail, harsh, jeering. I've heard that tone before. Drunk hooligan's about to smash something or someone. My gut feeling is confirmed a moment later. What's up, love? Fancy joining the party. A different bolt of fear flares in my chest. The car is terrifying, but they are worse.

Another voice shouts, closer with each word. Grab the bitch. Use her as a hostage. Then a third, cold and focused. Get the keys, that forge going with us. The words slice through the haze. They're meaning settling over me like a weight, pressing the air from my lungs. Then the car's alarm erupts into life.

A deafening shriek that makes me flinch. Over the din, I catch more shouting and the sharp crack of glass breaking somewhere nearby. The door handle rattles, hard, quick, like someone testing it from the outside. For a split second, I think it will give that they're about to get in. The car lurches backwards, then surges forwards again.

A heavy thud, followed by a... yell of agony. I get the awful impression someone has just had their foot crushed. I press myself back in the seats, heartbeat hammering. Then we are moving again. Fast. The tires scream as we tear around the next bend. The car races on, speed building with every breath. The engine's raw swelling until it fills my world. Louder, deeper, all-consuming. I can feel it thrumming through the seat, the floor, my bones, like the whole car has become a living thing dragging me with it.

I slump back, heart pounding, but a strange calm begins to settle over me. Maybe this is it. Maybe I am going to die, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. All I can do is breathe, try to hold on to my dignity, and pray it will be quick.

The alarm cuts out. The car slows. Engines pass us, ordinary cars, ordinary lives, and then a siren wails nearby, closer this time. I can tell the difference in pitch. This one is police. Hope surges through me and I wave frantically, shouting even though I know they can't hear. The siren roars by, heading back the way we'd come. I slump down, a sound halfway between a sob and a groan escaping me. I try my phone again.

Around me, the scent of boot polish thickens until it fills my lungs. Tears warm my cheeks. The classical music returns. Louder now. Steady. The car slows. The familiar double-beat tick starts up. The sound the hazards make when nearly hits the red triangle on the dash.

The rhythm is steady. On. Off. Then on again. I hesitate. A strange thought forming. It's as if it's trying to tell me something. Hello?

Is that you? No answer. Just the soft hum of the engine. Then the horn gives a single, gentle bip, almost like a reply. My thoughts start to race. The bang back at the cash point. But something happened there. Then the stop at the pub, the shouting, the drunks.

Maybe it had taken me there because it thought a pub meant safety. But then it must have realised. whatever was happening there wasn't safe at all. The police heading that way proved it. So if it isn't trying to hurt me, what is it doing? Where is it taking me now? I swallow hard.

Oh, okay, okay. If you can understand me, bit once for yes, twice for nine. All right? My throat tightens. I am negotiating with a car, and the car has answered. Are you, are you going to hurt me?

For the first time since this nightmare began, I let out a shaky breath that almost turns into a laugh. We glide around a roundabout, smooth and deliberate, and take a gentle left. Another turn, sharper this time. A brief burst of speed, then a slow roll onto gravel. A final curve, then a calm, steady stop. The music fades.

The engine goes quiet. A soft click, the handbrake. Silence. Hello? A faint jingle of metal. Then something cold drops into my lap. I reach out, trembling. My fingers brush the shape of keys.

The driver's door opens, then closes softly. And I am alone. For a few seconds, there is nothing. No sound, no movement. Just the hollow quiet of an empty car. The ringtone hits like an explosion, slicing through the silence and sending a shock right through me. I snatch it up, hands shaking.

The unnatural chill is gone, replaced by the familiar slight warmth of a working battery. I double tap with two fingers to answer. Lily? Oh my God! Where are you? The cash point. Ellie, I feel so sick. A lorry mounted the curb. The driver passed out at the wheel.

Who was heading straight for your side? If the car hadn't taken off like that, it would have hit you. No one's hurt, thank God, but that was too bloody close. My mouth goes dry. The truck is working now. I can see you at New Haven Police Station. Who drove you there? I look out through the windscreen.

The faint glow of blue lights reflects off the glass. They've gone. Who's gone? Whoever drove me She doesn't answer for a few seconds He is giving me a lift over I'll ring ahead Get someone to come out to you

Okay Okay My voice steadies for the first time all night Thanks Lil The line clicks off A few minutes later Footsteps crunch on the gravel A man's voice

Steady, local accent All right love I nod Yeah I think so. The door's locked. He reaches over and gives the handle a tug. To my surprise, it opens without a hitch.

The night air hits me. Cool, clean, and painfully normal. Well, you've been on an adventure tonight. I bet you could use a cover. He crouches beside the open door, torchlight sweeping across the dashboard. Recognise this car, I do. Used to belong to a local girl. Royal Marines medic.

Lovely kid. They're obsessed with polishing her boots till you could see her face in them. The smell of boot polish lingers faintly in the air. Unmistakable. What happened to her? Killed in action, they said. Though one of her squad swore she didn't die at all. Reckon she got pulled into some MI6 black ops thing. If you believe that sort of nonsense.

I tried to smile. Yeah, maybe. He stands and pat's the roof. Well, whoever was driving tonight's a hero. Word just came through. Car matching this one stopped a few drunk chancers up at the Green Dragon, ran over one bloke's foot

and slowed the rest just long enough for us to get there. I didn't see anyone. He nods. You didn't happen to speak to them, did you? I shake my head. Didn't hear a thing. He sighs, a deep, weary sound that speaks of long hours and endless paperwork. It's ironic, you know.

That green dragon pub is where she grew up. Run by her mum, no less. Makes you wonder, doesn't it? The officers went through the CCTV from the car park, but the footage had glitched out completely. No driver, no movement, nothing at all. I didn't tell them the truth about the car driving itself or the empty seat beside me. They were content to believe it was just a good Samaritan who didn't want to be found.

Later, Lily arrived and hugged me so hard it nearly knocked the breath out of me, whispering over and over how glad she was that I'd made it. When I told her everything, I'm not sure she believed me, though she tried to. She just kept saying it didn't matter, that I was safe, and that whoever or whatever helped me had done a good thing. I still don't know what it was. A ghost? Some kind of black ops tech that slipped through the cracks?

Maybe both. When Lily dropped me off that night, I stood outside my flat for a moment, breathing in the cool air. And just as she drove away, I swear I heard it. The faint, gentle bit from somewhere down the street. Like the car letting me not.

No, I was home. For even more, ad-free audio night. If ye hath eyes to see, you'll know August is coming to an end. That means back to school and back to a regular routine. So is your closet? Perhaps a little lighter now? Ready for it? Well, I can't think of a better place to start than Quince.

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Now available in Canada and the UK too. That's Q-U-I-N-C-E.com slash no sleep. As we return to the frequency of fear. When it comes to feats of physical endurance, there are few things as impressive

as reaching the summit of Mount Everest. Calling it a herald. and exhausting effort would be a gross understatement. That's why there are many who simply don't survive their attempt. But in this tale, shared with us by author E. Gallagher, we meet a woman who reached the top of the world, but now she hopes she can find a friend who got lost on the way down. This tale has been produced by Jesse Cornett

and features performances by Marie Westbrook, Jake Benson and Danielle McCray. So if you find yourself high upon the mountain, get down as quickly as you can. There's a reason the slopes above 8,000 meters are called the Death Zone. Wind screams as it barrels down the mountain. Mad gusts punch into our tent, ripping at the trembling nylon seams. The fabric pulls taut in a frenzied series of staccato pops. I breathe in.

My oxygen bottle lines. I breathe out. The air escapes with a hiss. At 1.47 p.m. today, I summited Mount Everest. I escape into the memory, retracing my final steps up to the roof of the world. I reached for the summit marker, reverently brushing a gloved hand over ribbons of multicolored prayer flags. I whooped as Leah approached and she hugged me fiercely, blinking back tears. We clung to each other, taking in the ethereal panorama of the Himalayan mountains.

It was a moment of brilliant, unbridled euphoria. Mick starts coughing again. His body quakes pitifully as a harsh, dry hacking fills our tent. It's the kumbu cough. The sound of human lungs withering above 26,000 feet. He props himself up on an elbow and pulls his oxygen mask down. His voice is an inaudible rasp. I can't make out what he's saying.

So I give him a thumbs up and motion for him to put his mask back on. He gives me a dull-eyed nod and burrows back into his Gortex sleeping bag. Leah's sleeping bag is unfurled between us. Empty. Neither one of us has the heart to put it away. A wave of nausea sweeps over me, and I curl to the side like an infant. The rim of my mask digs painfully into my cheek. I choke down ragged gasps from my oxygen bottle.

Everything is so terribly cold. The nylon wall separates. I jerk upright. Wind rips in, raking icy daggers across my exposed face. A heavily bundled figure leans in through the hole, and I realize that Tripp has let himself in through the door flap. The burly expedition leader tumbles into our tent, zipping the door closed behind him.

His face is grave. Doctor. I reach for my pack. Is it Leah? they find her. Tripp's expression fills with sorrow. He shakes his head. An incredible ache fills my chest as the fading embers of hope blink out, trembles.

I'm sorry. Tripp runs a gloved hand over his beard before continuing. It's Tashi. He's sick. He points to his chest, then mimics a cough. I nod and follow him. into the night. I kick my crampons into the ice as I step outside the tent. The metal teeth bite into the mountain as I pause before committing my full weight. My stiff muscles scream in protest

as I lean into the window and follow Tripp's headlamp. Kick, pause, step of rest, looms above us to the north, obscured by the darkening sky, pick our way around the desolate perimeter of Camp 4. Several clusters of bright yellow tents are pitched across the staging area, all shrugging helplessly under the barrage of wind. Each tent is illuminated from the inside by a lantern, giving a hauntingly subdued glow. Another gust tears through camp and billows the snow into a hazy mist. The snow obscures all but the nearest tents,

which shudder-like candle flames in the grim light. I noticed the beam of Tripp's headlamp drawing ahead of me as I stumble forward to catch up. Kick, pause, step. Kick, pause, step. It's easy to get lost in these conditions. Mountaineers have lost sight of the tents, only to curl up and die in the lonely cold mere feet away from safety.

We skirted several of their bodies while setting up camp. I take a ragged breath and push myself forward. The wind shriek suddenly. and I lose my footing. I stagger backwards, teeter, then fall to my side. I slide several feet, crashing painfully into an icy outcropping. I curl around the side of the frozen ledge, gripping it with both hands as I squeeze my eyes shut

and take several long, slow breaths. In an emergency medicine doctor for ten years, I thrive in chaos. I do not panic. I know the first rule of an emergency is to check your own pulse. I humed to myself. Slow and soft

until my heart rate slows to meet the melody of the song. This bride, dangleed scream, rips itself from my throat. I'm staring into a frozen leathery face. The eyes are wide and glaring. The gaping jaw hangs from sunken cheeks

and a permanent expression of surprise. I am locked in a full body embrace with one of Everest's many bodies Revols and spools in the back of my throat A metallic bitter taste fills my mouth I cling to her for purchase As my feet scramble against icy rock I begin to hyperventilate

The metered air from my oxygen bottle is too thin I can't get enough air You're going to suffocate I start to hum again, desperate to contain my terror. Levergent, love, child. It begins to stabilize. Shame twists my chest. Body isn't a horror.

A human with a beating heart in wild, impossible dreams. Did her teammates leave her out here to die? I pull myself to my knees, gripping her outstretched hand for support. The beam of Tripp's headlamp swings across me as he makes his way over and measured precise depth. Thank you for getting me. I whisper to the dead mountaineer. Her head turns towards me just a fraction of an inch.

I gasp trying to back away as her hand tightens on my own. Something grabs me from behind and I buck violently against the form at my back. In the evil. I wrenched my hand away from the front. corpse and throw myself into trip zones. Easy. It's just a body. They're all over out here.

Pop into his shoulder. The sound thankfully muffled by my oxygen mask. She moved. I wanted to shout. She grabbed me. With effort, I swallowed the words back into myself. I'm a doctor, and Tashi needs me right now. There's one person on this mountain that I can help.

and I'm not going to let him down too. Tripp looks at the gauge on my oxygen bottle and shakes his head. He pulls another bottle out of his path and replaces the canister. Empty. Low oxygen makes you confused. That's when mistakes happen. I not, chagrined. Of course, a corpse didn't just try to drag me down the mountain.

I was low on oxygen, exhausted, and borderline delirious. I take another deep breath and feel my head start to clear. Trip is right. No mistakes. I look back once as we shuffle away, my headlamp glinting off a pair of frozen eyes. Her gaze is locked on me. The sagging jaw now twisted into a cruel sneer.

When I turn away to follow Tripp, my back feels utterly exposed. A whisper of ice articulates down every single. facet of my spine. I shudder, trying not to imagine her leathery corpse bounding through the empty night behind me. When we reach the Sherpas tent, Pemba and Dote are huddled over Tashi's sleeping bag. Dote is visibly flustered, fiddling with the straps of Tashi's oxygen mask. Pemba's weathered face is etched with concern. His piercing blue eyes meet my own as he slides away from Tashi's side. Pemba is worried. The realization fills me with uneaseaseous.

I grab a stethoscope from the medical kit and make my way over to Tashi. Tashi is difficult to rouse. His eyes flutter. He responds to my questions with incoherent mumbles. His cough reverberates through the tent. When I listen to his chest, his breath draws in with an ominous wet crackle. My confusion is obvious. Tashi is by far the strongest,

We're on the team. It was leading the search party. He went back up to the South Summit today. He pushed himself too hard. A lump forms in my throat. I swallow it down. I see. Well, it's high-altitude pulmonary edema.

I can give him some nephedipine, but we need to get him down right away. No one seems surprised by my diagnosis. They're all intimately familiar with altitude sickness. Doot looks up, says he'll take Tashi down the mountain. His lip trembles as he speaks. Moment, he looks so incredibly young. I think of all the times I've watched Dote following Tashi around.

His little brother worship of the more experienced climber. Tripp and Pemba confer in hushed voices. Finally, Tripp nods. Suicide to try to descend in the dark. so Alex and Dote will take him down first thing in the morning. Pamba and I can guide the rest of the group down behind you guys. Dope bites his lip in frustration, his eyes glistening with concern. Eventually, he shakes his head in agreement.

My heart sinks. With Tashi in this condition, there won't be another search party. My mind flashes back to the summit, to my last glimpse of Leah's face, her visible exhaustion, her unrestrained joy. The climbing partner I came to love like a sister or our last words to each other. Your daughter will be so proud. I told her as I wrapped her in a bare hug.

I couldn't have done it without you. The words echo in my memory, punching me low in the gut. Would she have turned back in time if I hadn't been pushing her along? What signs of doing? deterioration did I overlook. I should have been watching more carefully.

I should have noticed when she unclipped from the guideline and wandered off into the snow. There is no one left to search for her. I'm too weak to get back up the mountain, let alone help another climber down. Tashi is the strongest of us. When he fell ill, Leah's timer ran out. It's for nothing. I'm shocked at the callousness of my own thoughts. Tashi breaks into another hacking cough.

I silently chastised myself as I reposition his oxygen mask. I'll stay for a while and keep an eye on him. Good. Thank you. I better go update the team. Tashi's condition stabilizes over the next several hours. He even manages to crack a joke about helping Dote down the mountain, but it does little to relieve the tension. We all know how tenuous his improvement is.

His cough is still wet and racking. His effort at humor is belied by deep sadness, welling in his dark brown eyes. None of us are safe yet. I need to check on Mick. So I give Doat some instructions and step out of the tent. I scuff my crampons into the ice and visualize the route back to my tent. I have to pass the dead mountaineer. My chest tightens as I imagined her outstretched arm.

Her hungry sneer. I shake my head. I believe in the supernatural. I believe in the cognitive implications of dehydration and hypoxia. I repeat this, trying to assert logic over skittish unease. The effort falls short. My spine prickles. Even through my altie expedition mittens,

my right hand is chilled to the bone. I shudder and head into the night. My dread mounts as I approach the patch of rock where I slid into the dead mountaineer. A dull ache throbbed between my temples. My head feels light, and the back of my neck is just terribly. I plod forward, forcing myself to look as I pass. There's no body in sight.

A patch of rock is barren. The empty snow undisturbed. I whirl, flinging the beam of my headlamp through the darkness. The light skitters across snow and ice. Wind howls through the empty camp. I notice another light flickering in the distance. I paused to get my bearings, from what must be the lower edge of the slope leading up to the summit.

The light is feeble, barely visible through the gust of snow. Flames in my chest. Miracles have happened on Mount Everest before. Climbers have survived the unthinkable, made their way back to camp against insurmountable odds. The stories are preciously rare, but Leah is going to be one of them. I debate for just a moment. The best course would be to grab some extra rope from my tent

and drag a line out to be sure I won't get lost. But if I lose sight of Leah's headlamp while rummaging inside my tent, I might never find her again. She could misstep and fall off the side of the mountain in the time it takes for me to grab a line. Every second counts right now. I've left her once before. I'll never be able to live with myself if I fail her now.

I start towards the flickering beam of Leah's headlamp. Instead of picking my feet up between steps, I drag them through the snow. This creates a trail of two deep furrows. I reason that I can follow this path back if the wind picks up enough to obscure the tents. As I trudge forward, I take stock of what I have at my disposal. I have an oxygen bottle attached to my mask and one spare bottle clipped to the right side of my belt. My petzel ice axe is clipped to the left. Three carabiners and a six-foot length of cord hang from the back.

I have a cliff bar in my back pocket, but no water. I have one head left. The battery should have plenty of life remaining. I have no medical supplies, no radio. A whirl of snow briefly obscures the flickering light, and my breath catches in my throat. No, no, no. desperation bubbles in my chest.

I click off my own headlamp and strain to spot Leah. I swallow back a sob of relief. I'm getting closer. I'll need to take Leah to Tosh's tent first. That's where the medical kid is. I can send Dote to go find Trip. You'll need to radio base camp and prepare them to exfiltrate two injured climbers. I'll offer to help Leah down from Camp 4.

She's going to be in bad shape, but if she's... made it this far. She's at least ambulatory. Consider my flagging strength. Will I be more of a danger to us both in this condition? I grip my teeth. We both come down together or not at all. Leah's lamp is brighter now, maybe a few hundred feet away. I need to keep going. Cold worms through the protective layers of my climbing gear, numbing my hands and feet. My nose and cheeks burn painfully. I rain in the vestiges of my strength. If I don't start moving right now, we'll both die.

I click my headlamp back on. A scream erupts from my throat, shattering the frigid night. The withered form is hunched in the beam of my headlamp, glaring viciously up at me. Its teeth are bared in a crooked grimace. The torso is uncovered, revealing an expanse of the... blackened frost-bitten skin, fighting to keep my balance. If I fall here, I will slide to my death down the L'Azai face.

The beam of my headlamp dances as I tremble violently. The figure twists its head, keeping its narrowed eyes trained on me. I gasp and horrified disbelief. It raises one sinewy arm and plants it in the snow, rocking its weight forwards towards me. I scrabble for the ice axe at my hip. Get back! The figure raises its other arm, bent inwards at a horrible angle, it continues to shuffle forward.

I hear a wet, crunching sound as it draws near. Take a swing with my axe and miss. A hand shoots full with grouting my left ankle. I teeter, plant my right foot, and maintain my balance. It tracks it so closer, jaws gnashing expectantly, swinging from my hips as I bring my axe down again. The axe connects with the side of the figure's contorted face, shattering its temple. The hand around my ankle releases as shards of the thing's face splinter into the snow. It arrives. It's one remaining eye wild with fury.

I almost break and run back towards camp. I'm turning, getting ready to flee. When I catch sight of Leah's headlamp, flickering in the dark. She's so close now. I can't let these things get her. I sidestep around the thrashing corpse and drive myself towards Leah. But I accelerate. Kick pause step, kick pause, step, kick pause, step.

My lungs burn with the effort. My vision darkens blurring past the edges of my headlamp. Terror propels me onward. The termination directs my course. I don't look back to Leah. Just get to Leah. I saw when Leah's hot pink jacket comes into view. I race up to her, wrapping her in a giant hug.

I got, Leah. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so, sorry. I'm going to get you back to camp, okay? You all right now. You're all right now. Leah sags into my embrace. I hold her for a moment

Then step back to look her over The valve of her oxygen bottle Is encrusted with thick ice She's lost a glove Her black tipped fingers fade into a mottled grey Fourth degree frostbite She's gonna lose most of her left hand Shit, hell me are sorry

She stumbles toward me Her pink jacket ripples in the wind She's confused, delirious. I knew she'd be in bad condition, but damn. How is she even standing? I fumble for the carabiners in court at my waist. I'm going to short-rope you back, okay? I'll clip our belts together and we'll need you to camp four.

It's not that far away. Can you make it ten more minutes? I can't hear her response through the ice-covered mask. I clip us together and turn to the south. There's my trail. It'll lead us straight back to camp. I don't mention the bodies. It'll only cause her to panic.

She just needs to focus on getting back to the tents. My heart is thumping erratically as I start to lead her forward. I swivel my headlamp as we move through the night. I'm not going to be surprised by another body creeping through the dark. Tension coils in my gut. Leah lags behind me Our pace is frighteningly slow Moving

Numbed by exhaustion and freezing wind I feel my body teetering at the precipice of human endurance threatening to collapse Keep the words on the summit There is hope in those words now An expectation unbarred A promise I can still live up to I've forced myself onward

Sucking at the dregs of my supplemental oxygen. You both come down together or not at all. We come to a patch of disturbed snow. My pulse pounds. Anticipation clawing up at my throat. I swing my headlamp in wild arcs, but the corpse is gone. For now. I see a cluster of dull yellow lights ahead.

Camp four. We are so close now. Leah staggers behind. me. I gently tug her forward. I start humming, hoping to distract her as we close the gap to our tents. Side behind me. Home stretch. I drag one foot up, then the other. My universe narrows to the very next step. Then the next. We are going to make it. I swivel my gaze to the right. Something is crouching the snow. Please let that be a rock formation. It shifts.

Dread washes down my spine. Two more figures look in the distance. Something skitters out of the corner of my headlamp pain. Keep humming, low and soft. I pray that Lee hasn't noticed them. I slowly pull my ice-ax out of my belt loop. I swing my lamp from side to side. Bent forms prowl around us.

They shuffle forward with slow, ungainly steps. Terror seizes my chest as they close around us. Frozen, vicious eyes. Contorted postures. Tattered, frozen flesh. I gaspereer. I raised my axe as they circle, bracing myself for attack.

What are they waiting for? Leah stutters to a halt behind me. Come on, Leah, not now. I step backwards towards her, still shifting my game. trying to keep all of the looming creatures in sight. Hey, me ask, Edy, we're so close to camp. We're so, so, so close.

But I need you to move right now, okay? She doesn't respond. She reaches out for me with her gnarled frostbitten hand. Come on, Leighette. You can do this. I'm going to keep you safe, but you need to start moving right now. She reaches from my eyesax. With a sudden burst, she grabs it away.

away from me and throws me about this. What the hell? Leah clumsily tugs at her own oxygen mask. He stare, paralyzed by a sudden sinking feeling deep in my chest. She finally manages to pull the mask away, ripping her snow goggles and head lamp off in the process. Dread and blooms, consuming me in a full body shudder. Leah's face is laced with ice.

patches of graying frostbite line her nose and cheeks her mouth hangs open jaw cocked at a strange angle she does not blink she does not move she does not breathe I'm sobbing now shaking my head in disbelief yeah no no no please no her claw-like hand grabs the cord connecting us she takes a up towards me. I came to save you. It was all going to be all right. Shadow's circle in the periphery of my vision. The noose of corpses' tightens around us. Leah steps up to my chest.

We are eyed to frozen eye. Leah, no. She lurches forward, knocking at the die. I scrabble back. A strong hand grabs. by the ankle. I kick, but her grip holds firm. She's dragging herself forward,

inching up over my body. I hear the wet crackle of her movements. Figures loom behind her with icy, petrified grins. She reaches up and rips the oxygen us from my face. Sub-zero wind burrows into my lungs. My mind

goes hazy. The air out of my lungs as she drags herself up my chest. Sleep. Her frozen jaws sink into my cheek. Sleep. To the silence owes for another week. Join us again next time when we conjure up the frequency of fear.

For more Sonic Nightmares, the No Sleep Podcast is Presented by Creative Reason of Musical Scores were composed by Brandon Boone. Our production team is Phil Michalski, Jeff Clement, Jesse Cornett, and Claudius Orr. Our editorial team is Jessica McAvoy, Ashley McAnally,

Olly A. White, Kristen Samito, and Marcus Damanda, host and executive producer, David Cummings, cover how you can get even more sleepless horror stories from us. Just visit sleepless.com to learn about the sleepless universe. Add free extended episodes each week and lots of bonus content for the dark hours, all for one low monthly break. On behalf of everyone at the No Sleep Podcast, we thank you for listening closely. The Sound.

This audio program is copyright 2026 by Creative Reason Media. The copyrights for each story are held by the respective authors. No duplication or reproduction of this audio program is permitted without the written consent of creative. Reason Media. No part of this audio program may be used or reproduced in any manner for the purpose of training artificial intelligence, technologies, or systems. All reserved.