nosleep

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/02321 on 2024-10-08 18:32:56+00:00.

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Lately, I’ve barely been able to keep my head above water financially. For the past two years, I’ve moved around chasing job listings and low rent. I’ve sank low enough to accept a door-to-door sale job. It had something to do with a water filter. I doubted the services were legit, but I got paid per sale. After three days of getting the door slammed in my face, I got desperate to head into a neighborhood with longer lawns and cracks in the sidewalk. I just needed one more sale and I swore I would quit this awful job.

The sun had started to set by the time I arrived at the last house on the block. I considered not bothering with it. One of the front windows was broken with nothing but cardboard keeping the insects out. I regret ever going up the wooden front steps to knock on the door.

A few seconds passed of silence after my short knocks. I had turned to leave when the door opened a crack. Inside was too dark to see the man’s face fully. I was so surprised someone actually answered I fumbled with the papers in my hands.

“What are you selling?” The man asked in a deep voice.

“I’m with the Clear Waters Filtration Systems. If I could have a moment of your time, I would like to display how dirty your tap water is.” I said, my voice as tired as I felt from being on my feet all day.

The man didn’t move for a few seconds. He kept looking over me, trying to see if I was a threat. Finally, he opened the door the rest of the way to let me inside. I paused debating on how much I needed this sale. The fact I hadn’t had a meal in two days was the factor that made me follow the owner of the house.

Inside was dark and smelled musty. I expected it to be dirty, but there wasn’t much inside. The old floorboards creaked as he led me to the kitchen. The room was almost bare. A table with two chairs took up most of the space. There was a full knife block, a microwave, and a fridge. No dishwasher. No plates, or mugs. Not even any trash.

“May I have a cup of water to test?” I asked.

My stomach turned. My body knew something was wrong before my brain caught up. The man was taller than me and well-built. He looked well-fed compared to my thinner frame. I wasn’t always like this. Years ago, I was in shape but not having reliable meals hit me hard. By the time I clued into my situation; it was far too late. I had already walked into a trap.

Instead of getting a glass of water, the man took a step closer to me. I raised my clipboard as if they would protect me. He took me out with a single punch to the face. My body hit the ground hard, my nose bleeding. Panic started to set in. I shook my head trying to clear my racing thoughts. I cursed the idea that I could have taken this guy in a fight a year ago and just how much I let myself go.

His hands fell on me causing me to struggle. I yelled as I kicked his legs. With some effort he got me pinned down to the floor. He painfully pulled my arms behind my back. My wrists were held together with one hand as he used the other to slam my head on the ground hard enough to make my vision go black. In the few seconds I was out, he put a zip tie painfully around my wrists.

I felt him lifting my body to my feet. I needed to do something. I jerked back out of his grasp to land hard against the counter. The knife block fell causing a few of the blades to slide out. I grabbed a handle of one with my bound hands. I had a weapon, but no way to use it.

A knock at the door made us both freeze. I almost screamed for help. A barrel of a gin pointing directly at my face made my mouth close. I let him force me into a chair, my hands still gripping the knife he hadn’t noticed.

The man didn’t need to say anything. His eyes told me everything I needed to know. I watched as he walked out of the room towards the door to a new victim. I heard muffled words as I frantically got to work cutting at the zip tie. I sliced open my fingers trying to use the knife. I felt the zip tie snap just as my attacker came back inside the room with someone new.

I froze again. If I made a run for it, I would get shot. I needed to wait for the right moment to get the jump on this man praying the element of surprise would beat his trigger finger.

The new person had wavy black hair and a bright dimpled smile on his face. His pressed white shirt and sharp dress pants looked out of place in a house like this. He held some booklets in his hand. My face dropped when I read the words ‘The Watch Tower’ on the front. This poor guy was just trying to spread the good word only to get caught up with all of this. His smile faltered when he saw my face. His eyes followed the blood from my nose to my now-stained shirt.

“Is this a bad time? I can come back later...” The newcomer spoke in a softer tone that matched his appearance.

His face held a nervous smile. The man who led him inside again said nothing. When the newcomer moved to step away, he was caught in a flash. I winched at the sound of him hitting the table hard. The booklets spilled to the floor as the larger man pinned him down.

“Please! I haven’t seen anything! I won’t!-” He started begging but got cut off.

Just like myself, he had his wrists zip-tied together. When that was done, he was forced into the chair on the other end of the table, scared as hell. His entire body shook. I didn’t blame him. My heart raced as I carefully waited for the right time to act.

“I can’t believe how lucky I am. Two products just knocked on my door. Here I thought I was only shipping one today. Now, behave. You’re worth more alive.” Our kidnapper spoke as he ran a hand over his bald head.

I saw the gun in the back of his waistband. I judged the distance between us. Would I have enough time to reach him before he pulled his gun? Or should I wait until he got closer? I didn’t have the chance to think through my plan. The stress of the situation was too much for the other man. He bolted upwards trying to escape. There was a quick struggle that ended in a single gunshot.

I stared in horror as a body hit the floor. A pristine white shirt slowly started turning red with blood. I started to feel sick. My stomach turned over the simple fact that if I had acted sooner, this wouldn’t have happened. I had a knife in my hand. And yet a man was now bleeding out on the floor in front of me.

“Like I said, you’re worth more alive.” The deep voice snapped me from my shock.

Stepping over the body, the attacker took the two steps to my chair. The still-hot muzzle of the gun was pressed to my cheek. I got dizzy from fear. My hands shook so badly that I nearly dropped the still-hidden knife.

“I’ll make you a deal. Call two people over here and I’ll let you go free.” He offered as he brought his face closer to mine.

I smelled his terrible breath. I started to pull my head away, but he grabbed a fistful of short hair to keep me still.

“I don’t...” I stammered.

I was going, to tell the truth, that I truly didn’t have anyone in my life I could call. Even if I did, he would just shoot them? For what purpose? Who would pay for dead bodies? Wasn’t this all too risky? In the back of my mind, I knew the answer. One so gruesome I didn’t dare consider it until the black-haired man on the floor moved. Our eyes met mine. Then his mouth formed a smile that made my body turn cold.

“Oh, come one. No one? A handsome guy like yourself must have a girlfriend. What about a relative or two you don’t like?” The man said in a mocking tone.

I wasn’t fully listening to him. As he spoke, the person I was positive had been shot dead started to silently move. The kidnapper’s face was so focused on mine, that he didn’t notice what was happening right behind him.

“Turn around.” I hissed.

“I’m not falling for that.” He replied, his face dropping in anger.

I felt his hands start looking through my pockets for my phone. I shook my head pleading for this man to just look over his shoulder. I no longer needed the knife for him. It would be best to save it for what came next.

“Turn the hell around!” I snapped again.

“There’s nothing-” He yelled as he finally listened to my warning.

He moved to be face-to-face with the man he just shot. I watched in disbelief as the thing I assumed to be a person got on all fours to climb up the table not making a sound. It easily scaled the wall to stand on the ceiling as if that was normal. A wide dimpled smile appeared on his face when the bald man finally saw what he invited into his house. To his credit, the man raised the gun faster than expected. His wrist was caught and snapped in one fluid motion. His cry of pain was cut short. He was swiftly tossed across the room denting the cheap drywall on the other side.

I caught the eyes of the monster before me. He gave a wink before jumping down from the ceiling.

“Sit tight.” He said in a gentle voice I didn’t trust.

I needed to run. If this monster was focused on the other man, I had a chance to get away. I looked down at the blood-stained floor also covered in religious pamphlets. WWJD had been written on the top of one of them. My face twitched into an annoyed smile for a second. I hated what I got myself into.

I watched as the bald man got hauled back to his feet. His wrist was bruised and swollen. His head bleeding from going through the drywall. His body was forced into a chair by the strength of the false Jehovah's Witnesses. The chair was spun around so they were face to face. I gripped the knife ti...

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Content cut off. Read original on https://old.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1fz6zph/im_never_doing_door_to_door_sales_again/

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/TheBatBelfry on 2024-10-08 09:17:31+00:00.

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Every October, the Dollhouse Studios lot hosts an annual Halloween event in which the public is granted access to the sets.

Each set is turned into a specific haunted house based on their most popular horror movies. My friend Jane, Liam, and I had pre-ordered our tickets ahead of time to avoid the long line.

When the weekend finally hit, we drove straight to LA as soon as college classes were over. It was a two hour drive, so we took turns driving while the rest had power naps to save energy. Finally arriving to the studio lot, we paid the parking fee, left the car the closest we could to the studio entrance, and rushed to the main gate.

The studio was already packed. Crowds both entering and exiting as we approached. We were aware that catching all the haunted houses would be impossible in one night, so we were going to prioritize those based on our favorite movies.

Jane picked the first house: Into the Woods. It was in Lot B. Line was decent. Into the Woods was more of a cult film than anything else.

The movie, as the title suggests, is set in the woods with a killer in a bear mask and axe. The set was covered in trees and a cabin rest in the middle. Various scare actors in bear masks swung axes at us from a distance.

Jane, who hugged her teddy bear dressed as the killer tightly, jumped and screamed in excitement. We had to drag her out the house because she didn't want to leave so soon.

Liam chose the next house: Heaven or Hell. A movie about a honest and good-willed man who thought he went to hell, but was in Heaven all along.

The house was decorated in classic Heaven architecture, including golden gates and clouds. But filled with demons who were supposed to be dark angels.

Liam hung around a little longer while keeping his eyes on a female angel that caught his attention. I had to pull him by his ear and escort him out.

Lastly, I got to choose the last house: Mouse-Trap! I had dressed up as the main character Maggie Mouse for this very occasion. But instead of a white mouse mask and dress like hers, I wore a black mouse mask with a leather jacket and jeans.

Liam and Jane jokingly called me Maddie Mouse, my name being Madison. The movie was about a girl that got kidnapped and forced into a mouse costume. She was held captive in an abandoned lighthouse where she had to escape from a killer in an old cat costume.

The lighthouse they built for the film lied at the far end of the studio, by the docks and fake town. Being the most famous set piece in the studio, naturally it had the longest line.

We were worried we wouldn't make it, but got lucky as we were the last group allowed in. As we entered and I turn to make sure Jane was with us, I caught security talking to the greeter then shouting for us to exit at once.

It was too late as the entrance had shut closed which I have come to learn was never part of the attraction. We carried on and walked through the house.

Oddly enough, no scare actors ever came out to which Liam joked, "Must be on their lunch break."

With no employees to guide us through the maze of shadows and hallways, we got lost.

It wasn't till a few minutes later that we started losing our cool.

"Where is everyone?"

"Scared are we, Jane?"

"Leave her alone, Liam. Someone should have popped out by now."

"Maybe that's the trick of this house. Let you wander than BOO!" Liam screamed right into Jane's ear causing her to knock down the fake wall beside her.

It was dark, very dark. I could only make out the hooks and fake fishes hanging from the ceiling as the little light that illuminated the path, reflected on their surfaces.

"Psst. Over here." A soft voice whispered beyond the black void.

"Hello?"

"Liam, shut up..."

"It's probably just a worker looking to get us out." He proceeded to walk towards the voice.

"Liam wait."

"C'mon Madison. They're about to close, let's go!"

"It's too late now. He heard you." The voice whispered.

"He?" Liam turned towards the voice then back at us.

At that exact moment, what I can only describe as a large humanoid black cat, leaped out of the shadows and shoved its' long claws right through Liam's eyes.

Jane screamed at the top of her lungs as I grabbed her, and we both made a break for it.

Not knowing where we were going, we just kept running as fast as we could.

"Jane! Please shut up!" But she didn't listen and kept screaming, tears flooded her face.

We finally stopped in a corner and tried hiding under some fake shelves. I took hold of Jane's shoulders and slapped her, "Shut up, Jane. Please." I quietly ordered.

"Psst. Maggie, over here." The voice sounded a lot closer this time.

I looked up to find a bird cage hanging above. It held a fake canary instead of any actual bird.

"Maggie. It's okay. I'm here to help."

At first I thought the voice was coming from the fake canary, probably some hidden radio. It wasn't.

It was coming from behind the bird cage, in the dark.

Silence filled the room for a while. I was too scared to reply. It thought I was Maggie. The character from the movie. Probably because of my costume.

I was ready to play along if it meant getting out of here...

"You're not Maggie."

Silence again. But somehow even quieter than before. Not the type of silence that is just absent of any noise.

The type of silence where you know you're not alone.

We waited in fear to see what would happen next, when Liam suddenly came screaming for help. He crawled on all fours as blood poured out of his eye sockets.

We rushed to him and helped him up. The giant cat then appeared a few feet away from Liam. It then walked towards us.

We desperately dragged Liam away but the cat began to run.

"Maddie!!!" Jane cried.

"I'm SORRY!!!!" Tears in my eyes, I pushed Liam off of us and snatched Jane's arm. I pulled her away as the cat reached Liam and rammed its long fangs into his neck.

Liam gave out one last plead before his entire neck was ripped into shreds. His spine pulled out as the bones got caught in the cat's teeth.

Jane slipped free from my grasp as she lost all control of her emotions.

"Got you." I heard the voice say before watching as a giant bird wing with sharp claws shot out of the darkness and grabbed Jane. The claws sinking into her chest.

I quickly wrapped my arms around her legs and pulled. The wing held onto her tighter as a beak darted out of the dark and pecked away at Jane's scalp. It ripped away pieces of flesh and hair everytime it made contact.

I was crying and begging the bird to let go. I turned to see the cat pouncing towards me. Mouth wide open and claws out. I ducked out of the way and watch as the cat landed on the bird, causing it to let go of Jane.

I couldn't see what was happening but could only imagine as unrecognizable bird screeches and cat growls were heard.

No time to process, I grabbed Jane and ran until I found the first door out. Thankfully I did and we both made it outside safely.

We were greeted by a police unit who instantly gave us medical attention. They raided the lighthouse and after an hour or so, found Liam's corpse.

We told our story to the cops. I could tell by their faces that they didn't believe us, but they went along with it.

At the hospital, me and Jane talked about that night. How the police found many more corpses belonging to both guests and employees. With wounds similar to those of a lion or other large cats.

Jane asked me about the bird in the shadows, and if that thing appeared in the movies alongside Bad Kitty, the name of the giant monster cat.

"There is no giant bird in the movies..."

"Does that mean the Mouse-Trap movie wasn't fake? It was real?"

"The actress never showed up in any other movies. People thought she just retired."

"But why would the studio play that movie in theaters if everything was real? Is it not illegal to have someone die for real in a movie?"

"I don't know. Let's just hope Mouse-Trap was the only one..."

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/achihiroe on 2024-10-08 06:21:37+00:00.

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People said that in our local church, there is a novice nun that had recently gone missing. Rumors say that she ran away because she wasn’t prepared to fully commit herself to the church—overwhelmed, and scared to surrender herself and tell the truth, she decided that it be best to run away. No one knows where she is and her family is under the impression that she is still in the convent, and that her anonymity during this time is all part of the process of becoming a nun. The church has reached out to them via letters and a personal visit by the priest, but still they were in denial of the whereabouts of their daughter.

I am an altar server of the church, and I have been for almost 2 years. Every sunday before and after the mass, me and a carillonneur are tasked to make our way up the church basement, climb a ladder and ring the carillons three times as loud as we possibly can. This mass in particular was held at around 4:00am, so me and my friend (Tom) made our way up the staircase and up the ladder at 3:36am, we finally settled at the top of the church overlooking the entire neighborhood. The bell tower was eerily quiet and dark, only having a small flashlight as our source of light and the cold morning breeze howling through our eardrums. We sat for about 10 minutes until we heard creaking from below us. We didn’t think much of it at first as mice were known to run about the basement, lurking in the shadows of the idols that only came out during feasts and church events.

3:50am, we began to feel drowsy and after a long conversation about how the rest of our week went, we slowly began dozing off resting our heads on the walls that surrounded the bell. I felt the consciousness leaving my body and my eyes closing shut all together, I was so ready to take a short nap after staying up late for the whole night—that is when we heard a loud THUD, again coming from the basement. It jolted both of us awake that the weariness left our bodies. In a panic, we convinced each other to check the basement and figured that it must have been one of the statues falling that was the source of the loud noise that woke both of us up.

“I guess God doesn’t want us to sleep” Tom said, letting out a nervous laugh. I could tell that he was scared, we both were—but he was trying to lighten up the mood by making a joke. “We should probably take a look at the basement, the feast of saint Matthew is coming up and we can’t have one of the icons broken.” I replied.

“Well, one of us is gonna have to ring the bells, the mass is starting in 5 minutes.”

“Fine, Then I’ll check the basement.”

Anxious, and with a flashlight in hand I make my way down the ladder that lead to the basement. The place was dusty and dark, and I could hear the ringing of the bells above me. I went to where the icons were kept under white sheets of fabric—I lifted them up one by one, counting them over and over. I knew how many statues there were, and I knew like the back of my hand. “Seems like they’re all intact.” I said to myself, but I couldn’t leave yet, I needed to know where the source of the noise came from so again, I wandered around the cramped room pointing my flashlight in every direction—nothing. I saw nothing. I was just about to go climb back up when I heard someone gasping—Like the type you would hear when someone is struggling to breathe and is gasping for air. I turned around quickly and anxiously pointed my flashlight around the dark room, again there was nothing.

“I’m probably just imagining things” I thought to myself.

After about 20 minutes I finally went back up with Tom Who was waiting for me.

“So?” He asked “Nothing” I replied

“Nothing?” “Yeah nothing. I checked and couldn’t seem to find anything that could possibly be linked to the noise earlier, it was probably just a mouse or something.”

It was 4:20am and the skies aren’t as dark as they were earlier, me and Tom patiently waited for the mass to end so we could again ring the bells. We spoke about anything and everything, keeping each other busy so that boredom and drowsiness wouldn’t get to us once more. And at around 4:45, Tom needed to use the restroom—the nearest one was in the basement, in a very small area cramped behind the church equipment. Tom didn’t want to go alone, so he made me go with him. Again, we made our way down the ladder Tom went first with me following behind him because he really needed to go, and I was being careful not to step on his hands as we both went down.

I offered him the flashlight and he refused because he didn’t want to be seen doing his business. I scoffed and turn around as he entered the small comfort room—I pointed the flashlight at the direction of the equipment just in case he would be on his way out and so he wouldn’t bump into the storage that was kept in front of the door.

Tom was done after a few minutes, I was annoyed at how long he took but I didn’t want to make a scene so we both just quietly made our way up again, with me following behind him. 4:50am, we finally sat down and continued our conversation, that is when Tom said something that brought chills to my body.

“Hey you know when I was inside the toilet? It felt like there was somebody else there with me.” “What do you mean?” “Well when I was finishing up, something brushed my head. Not to mention that it smells horrible in there, like everything dead piled up into one corner of the room.”

“And the atmosphere was heavy” he continued “I could’ve sworn my hand accidentally touched something in there, it was luckily dark so I didn’t have to see whatever that was.”

“That’s odd” I replied, fear written all over my face. In our 2 years of being tasked to do this, we have never encountered anything like this. Even at times when I was sent here alone, the thought of being scared has never once crossed my mind. I could tell that Tom was scared too but was putting on a brave face as it was in an ungodly hour and we didn’t want to start the day bad. We sat in silence until the mass finally finished, and we rang the bells 3 times. The sun was already rising by then and we weren’t that scared to go back down anymore despite the fact that we scrambled our way out the tower.

Our day continued as usual, we went our separate ways and we never spoke about the incident again. Until we were notified of a memorial service by the church 3 days later— I had just gotten back from school and my mom told me to get ready because we were gonna sponsor the mass, I grabbed my albs and quickly changed into them. The church was silent, It was a memorial service for the nun that went missing 5 days ago. She was found by one of the ministers who was looking for an extra ciborium—she was found with a rope tied around her neck. They said that she had been dead for a week when she was found in the basement.

My eyes widened. “The basement?” I felt my stomach drop, my eyes darting all over the place frantically looking for Tom in the crowd. Turns out he came in late because he had Spanish class, we were both pulled outside as the deceased’s loved ones said their last words and reminisced their last moments with her. The priest, along with the abbess and the minister who found her

“Where in the basement was she found?” Tom asked

“In the restroom” the minister replied.

We both looked at each other, I knew what he was thinking. And now I wonder, was she the one that caused the loud thud in the basement? Was it her lifeless body that brushed Tom’s head? What made her end her life?

I’m home now, I was traumatized for the rest of the service. Tom went home after we were told the news of where the body was located, it was too much for him to handle. Especially when he was the last one to use the restroom. Maybe Tom was right, maybe he was fortunate enough to not take the flashlight with him that day. Otherwise things would have gone much much worse.

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/LucyEphemera on 2024-10-08 04:15:10+00:00.

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I’ve been an Uber Eats driver for a couple months now. It’s a poor excuse for work, especially in a small city like Lafayette, but it’s been just enough to get me by until I find something better. Some nights people are generous, others they’re stingy, but I can’t really be mad about that. I know money’s no easy thing to come by, I just have to keep reminding myself that it’s temporary. It’s temporary.

Something’s changed, though. I can’t blame anyone for not believing me, but I have to tell someone about this. Maybe if the word gets out it’ll reach somebody who knows what I’m dealing with, maybe they can tell me how much time I have left. Whatever this is, it’s far beyond me. It started about a month ago on a Friday night.

It was slower than most Fridays, usually I can rely on the weekend bringing in the money but I only got a few trips worth taking that night. At 9pm I was just about to head back to my friend’s apartment, back to the couch I’ve been calling home, when I heard that annoying sound Uber uses to tell you someone wants food again. Guess I forgot to go offline. I opened the app, reflexively moved my thumb to decline the trip, but then I saw the estimated fare. “$78.47.”

I was in disbelief, I had never seen a fare that high before, not even close. I figured it had to be a cruel joke, sometimes customers will tease you with big tips to incentivize you to cancel any other orders and get them their food faster, only to reduce the tip at the last minute. My thumb started moving again towards that little X, but I hesitated. I couldn’t bring myself to refuse it. Maybe I was desperate to make that night worthwhile, maybe such an unorthodox fare demanded my attention, either way I was running out of time to take the offer. Unable to think it over any longer before it disappeared, I accepted.

The trip was short and easy. I was lucky enough to already be on the east side of town, and the pickup spot was only four minutes away. I walked in, waited in line, went through the same steps that have become a near nightly routine, walked up to the counter and said “I’ve got an Uber Eats order for Bailey J.” At the sound of that name the cashiers’ faces immediately went sour. They looked at me like I had offended them just by walking in, like I’d ruined their whole day with that one sentence.

After a few seconds of no response I tried to cut through the tension that’d suddenly crept over me, asking “do you need to see the or-” they cut me off sharply, “no, no we don’t.” One of the cashiers turned around, grabbed three big carryout bags and simply said “here.” That one word dripped with so much spite, as if they wanted whatever was in those bags out of their store as soon as possible. I left in a hurry, and had no idea why they were so upset until I got back in my car and took a closer look at the order. This person, Bailey J, had ordered 30 burgers, all with no bread, no cheese, nothing but the meat.

Maybe this seems like an overreaction to you but people don’t do stuff like this, they’re predictable. They get the meal, a side and a milkshake, four drinks with no food maybe, not 10 pounds of nothing but ground beef, so this really had me freaked out. I thought about canceling the order right there, I hadn’t verified the pickup yet so I could’ve done so without any real issue. What time I didn’t have to think this over earlier caught back up to me, as my mind started to race with the worst possibilities. What if this is some sicko using the app to lure me to his place with the money, only for me to end up missing? What if I was murdered, or kidnapped? What if the burgers were just an appetizer, and I was the main course?

After a couple minutes of my mind running wild with panic, my worries started dying down as I offered myself some more reasonable explanations. Some people are very picky, and maybe they just really like this place’s burgers in particular? Or, maybe they’re planning for a week of bulking? People do some pretty stupid shit to get their protein in after all. I wasn’t all too satisfied with these explanations, but they felt more likely than a psycho killer baiting me through Uber Eats. So, I collected myself, found my breath again, and verified the pickup. My imagination can get away from me, but even my worst expectations failed to prepare me for what was waiting.

The customer’s dropoff spot was a Studio 6 off of I-49, just on the edge of where Lafayette meets Carencro. When I drove up I wasn’t exactly expecting to see the life of luxury, but this place was rundown even for a highway motel in Louisiana. It was surrounded by a rusted over chain link fence, most of the street lamps along the perimeter were burnt out or flickering, and there were no signs of life besides a few cars dotted around the parking lot. I was filled with further doubts as I noticed many of them were broken into and missing tires, and there wasn’t a single soul around to comfort my growing suspicion that something was very wrong here.

I found the right room, parked right outside it and hurried to the door. The instructions said “meet at door” but I was determined to leave the bag, give a knock, and book it out of there like my life depended on it. In that moment, I certainly felt like it did. I raised my hand to give a knock, but another surprise struck me. The door was cracked open, with a pale blue light peeking through.

I dropped the bag, and rushed to just text them that I’d left it outside so I could leave but before I could even open my phone I heard a frail, cracked voice come through the opening. “Please, can you bring the food in? I can’t get up to grab it.” The weary sound of these pleading words made me feel something other than terror, something strong enough to overpower how jumpy I had been. I felt empathy. 

Many people order food because they don’t have the privilege of being able to get in a car with ease to get it themselves. They might be bedridden, or wheelchair-bound, either way they rely on people like me to bring what they need to them. So, I faced the door again, and replied, “I’ll bring it in, one sec.” I grabbed the bag off the ground, took a couple seconds to still my nerves, and opened the door.

I was immediately greeted with an awful smell, though I tried my best to not let it show on my face for the sake of being polite. But, whoever had called me into that sad little motel room was nowhere in sight. Unwilling to go any further in, I called out “Food for Bailey J? I have the bags here, I can set them dow-” the voice interrupted, louder and much less weak than before, “Yes, I’m in here. Come in please.” The sound seemed to be coming from all around me, but I noticed the bathroom door was open. This was the source of that light, a bright fluorescent glow, an offense to eyes that’d been accustomed to the dark of the night. I slowly crept over, my heart and mind far outpacing my feet, rapidly theorizing what could possibly be awaiting me. The smell got stronger with every step I took forward, it became impossible for me to ignore. I almost crossed the threshold when I saw a thick drop of liquid fall from the ceiling.

I froze, and arched my neck to see something part of me still fails to admit was really there. Just above me was a massive set of teeth, yellowed and gnashing, with exposed, discolored gums. The teeth belonged to a greater mass, some amalgamation of flesh clinging to the tiles of the bathroom ceiling. Even without eyes or a nose it knew I had approached, and it became restless. Its tongue darted out of its mouth, reaching for something to grab hold of. Coils of muscle and tendon stretched from the mass, wildly thrashing through the air, grazing just past the top of my head.

I quickly backed away from the bathroom and ran to the door, but it had shut and locked, with no attempts to flip the bolt or twist the knob making any difference. I was trapped. I started screaming out of hopes someone might hear me, but there was no stir from the neighboring rooms. I fell to the floor, and began to cry, when I heard the voice again. This time, it made no attempt to seem meek, or even human. The words boomed in my head, as if they were spoken from right behind my eyes. “Feed me, and you may leave.” 

After a moment or two of denial and acceptance grappling for control over my next course of action, I peered back into that brightly lit room. From this distance I couldn’t see any sign of the teeth, but I could hear them chattering in anticipation. Finally, I got up, grabbed the bags, and walked to the entrance of the bathroom. Now I noticed in the corner, next to the toilet, was a shovel.

I opened all the styrofoam containers, five patties in each one, and picked up the shovel. As I did I could tell the mass was delighted at my cooperation, more saliva dripped to the floor as its tongue appeared again from behind its teeth. I put several patties on the shovel, and lifted it up, angling it carefully to not drop any out of fear that might make it angry. It lapped the meat into its mouth, and began to chew. Bits of beef and spit fell onto me, my skin crawled at the touch but I dreaded the idea of upsetting this thing so much that I stood still and stomached it.

After a few more shovelfuls, the meat was gone and the mass seemed pleased with itself. I then heard a loud click come from the door, signaling my freedom. Desperate to be anywhere but there I made my way towards it, never taking my eyes off the bathroom. Be...

---

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This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Voodoo_Clerk on 2024-10-08 03:48:01+00:00.

---

Part 1 Part 2

Having Wilson with us stopped more of the patients from trying to kill me every time they didn’t get what they wanted. But I felt as if I was constantly walking on eggshells around him. He’s so cheery and friendly towards me and Rachel that I sometimes forget about what he is. But sometimes when it gets a little too hot in the office I notice that he starts to melt a bit. It was my idea to keep the waiting room at a cool 50 degrees to stop him from melting. The patients might complain a bit, but honestly, as long as it keeps Wilson from turning into a goop monster again, I’m all for it. 

I came into work the other day dressed in a cozy sweater so that I didn’t catch a cold in our freezing waiting room. I smiled and waved at Wilson when I opened the door to the waiting room and saw him standing dutifully at his post. His cheer is infectious at times, and I can’t help but smile back at him. He doesn’t seem ever to leave the waiting room, so I have to imagine that he just stands at his post the entire night. Props to him for his dedication! 

Sitting down at my desk I noticed that I had much less paperwork than normal. Pulling up the schedule for today I was surprised to see that only four patients were planned for today. I’ve worked here for almost an entire year and I’ve never seen Dr. Harrison have less than fifteen patients minimum. My first assumption was that it must have been some sort of mistake and that maybe my calendar was wrong. 

“Hey, lardass,” I turned over to see Rachel standing at my desk with her arms crossed and her usual bitchy expression staring at me. “Anything wrong with Wilson today?” she asked me as she tapped her finger impatiently against her arm. I looked over at Wilson, who had heard his name and was looking back over at us. 

“Besides never leaving that post? Nah he’s fine.” I told her. I wanted to talk shit to her but my curiosity took precedence over my pettiness. “Why does Dr. Harrison only have four patients today?” I asked her. She looked at me with surprise and then I showed her the schedule for today. 

“Oh, that’s today?” she asked as she yanked the sheet of paper away from me to examine it. “It’s nothing you should concern yourself with. These are just real important patients that need his full attention.” She tossed the schedule back at me and walked away, leaving me in a huff and with an itch of curiosity. So I decided to wait for him. It was another rare moment of him being late again, so I was worried something had happened to him. 

Dr. Harrison arrived close to opening time, and it was obvious to me that he wasn’t holding up so well. Ever since having to call whoever that old rotary phone was connected to, he had been in a deep depression. He approached my desk and gave me a half-hearted smile, but I could tell that he was still upset. The look in his eyes was enough to show me that. His beautiful green eyes didn’t have the shine that they once had. 

“Hey, doc. Can I get you anything to cheer you up?” I asked him, worried that he might mess up a surgery in his current state. He looked at me and shook his head before staring down at the schedule laid before him. 

“That’s today, huh?” He sighed and pushed his glasses up to rub the bridge of his nose. “Do me a favor, Maggie.” He started telling me, placing his glasses back into place. “The third patient that’s going to show up today, do your best not to interact with him too much. He can be, a little much.” He told me, grabbing the papers I handed him and making his way back into the back hallways toward the ORs and consultation rooms. 

I let out a sigh as I started working on my few pieces of paperwork. When the doors opened, I was surprised to see that a flood of patients didn’t come rushing in as they normally did. I looked over at Wilson to see if he was as confused as I was, but the blank look on his face with a smile on his face proved to me that he probably wasn’t thinking about much. I wheeled my chair over to the computer and decided to check something. A quick search showed me why there wasn’t anybody showing up today. Our clinic showed up as closed. 

It was probably the easiest day of work I’ve had since I started working here. To the point that I was even able to start reading a book, I had brought on my first day of work, thinking that I would actually have time to read it. Of course though, the moment I turned the first page the front door opened and I heard long heels clicking against our floors. I let out an annoyed exhale as I looked up from my book and quickly dropped it to the floor. 

In all my time working here, I’ve seen some people who are clearly addicted to plastic surgery. The kind that you immediately think of when you think of the phrase botched surgery. But this woman was the poster child of botched surgery. Her skin was pulled tight against her skull and was so thin that I thought any little cut to her skin would cause it to snap off her skull. Not to mention she looked like her face was made completely of plastic. 

“I have arrived,” she said, with all the superiority that someone like she imagined herself to have. “Oh God, has Dr. Harrison gotten desperate enough to hire pigs as his receptionist?” She scoffed when she laid eyes on me. I had to physically bite my tongue to stop myself from saying anything to her back. 

“Hello, ma’am. Dr. Harrison should be all ready for you, so you can go right ahead!” I told her in my best customer service voice, all the while scratching at my hand to stop it from wanting to punch her right in her stupid plastic face. She snuffed and walked towards the door that led to the rooms. Once she had finally left my sight and I heard the clicking of her heels retreat into one of the nearby rooms I let out a long and annoyed sigh and picked my book up from the floor. It immediately returned to the floor when I looked up and saw yet another patient waiting for me. He was just as plastic looking as the woman was. Lucky for me he wasn’t as big of an asshole as the woman had been. In fact, he was perfectly silent. 

“You can go right ahead, sir. Dr. Harrison should be with you shortly.” I told him. He nodded at me and started walking. It seemed like he could barely move his body, it looked like he was a living action figure with how he was moving. I watched him and shook my head, starting to question why I had decided to stay here. 

I gave up on reading the book and instead decided to just double-check all the paperwork I had done that day. Which took only a few minutes, and I found myself missing the endless rush of patients. Of course not the crazies but for them I had Wilson standing nearby. This time I was able to see the next patient enter the waiting room. He wasn’t like the previous two who had dressed like they were about to have a photo shoot afterward. 

He was dressed in a dirty hoodie and sweatpants, a face mask covering the lower part of his face, and his hands were planted firmly in his hoodie pockets. He approached the desk and stared at me with cold brown eyes, that just seemed hollow. Like there was no life behind them at all. I thought for a moment that maybe he was some junkie who was planning to rob the clinic or something, but with Wilson close at hand I held off any accusations. 

“Hello, sir. Do you have an appointment today?” I asked him, mostly for verification. He stared at me with those hollow eyes and I began to get uncomfortable with just how intently he was staring at me. I reached under my desk to get my pepper spray, but as I did he cleared his throat. 

“Yea. It’s under Spencer,” he told me. Even his voice gave me uncanny feelings. It sounded like the recording of a voice. I wondered if that was his last name or first. I looked over at my monitor and was surprised to see an appointment just under the name Spencer. That was it. I clicked on his name to see if he had insurance or anything at all like that. There was nothing under his name, just his name, and that he had an appointment at this time. 

“Yea…” I said as I took a look at him. While he was wearing a hoodie, his hood wasn’t up and he had a tangled mass of brown hair on his head. I drummed my fingers on the table as I kept looking at his sparse records. Should I just let him through, I thought to myself. I decided I needed confirmation before I was going to allow him into the clinic. “Can you just have a seat? I just need to have a quick word with Dr. Harrison. It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.” I said, giving him the best fake smile I could. 

He stared at me for a couple of seconds before looking over at the row of seats available to him. “Don’t take too long.” He told me as he turned and walked over to a nearby seat. I nodded at him and quickly stood up from my chair, and glanced over at Wilson. He had his eyes securely trained on Spencer and I was assured enough to go and ask Dr. Harrison. Walking over to the first OR room I didn’t hear any sounds coming from inside, so I knocked before just barging in unannounced. 

“Dr. Harrison? I need to ask you something.” I told him through the door as I backed up enough to let the door swing open. It took a few moments, enough time elapsed to where I thought he hadn’t heard me. But just ...

---

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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Aggravating_Road2692 on 2024-10-08 00:56:39+00:00.

---

Yes, my landlord is a creep. This much is obvious, but that doesn't mean I'm not above using his lustful impulses to my advantage. It's been a few months since my arrangement with him started and it has been going splendidly; my bank account's been getting chubby. But everything went downhill.  

Before I get ahead of myself, I should explain how our little agreement came about.  

I live in an apartment complex with dozens of other residents. The complex's landlord lives just a few doors down from my apartment, so you can imagine how often I walk by every day. Anytime I walked by his apartment windows, Jerred, the landlord, would always walk up to the glass and eye me up and down, head to toe, but his eyes always seemed to linger when he got to my shoes. Frankly, it was creepy as hell, and I was growing sick of it. I was honestly ready to move out. But as I was coming home from the gym one day, the apartment doors swung open. In the frame stood Jerred, visibly salivating, his eyes clearly fixed on my sneakers. I gripped the little bottle of mace on my key chain, ready to spray his face if he tried anything.  

He suddenly darted to his pocket, I flinched and pointed the mace in his direction. Luckily for him, I stopped when I heard the sound of Benjamen's crinkling in his hands.  

"Wowowo!" He announced. Showing me the money in his hand while his other palm faced me. He would look at my eyes and then return his gaze to my feet. Slowly bending over he places three-hundred-dollar bills on the ground between us, stepping back and giving me space as if I was some sort of caged animal. When he was far enough away, he pointed back at my feet.  

"I'll trade you for those." He said while slurping back his drool.  

"Um-- M-My shoes," I questioned, confused.  

"No, your socks." His eyes widened when he spoke the word 'socks'. I felt this overwhelming feeling of disgust wash over me.  

"Eww, the fuck. no," I responded with sassy conviction. Just as I turned to walk away, he made a counteroffer. 

"Wait, I'll make it worth your while.'  He reached into his back pocket and pulled two more crisp one-hundred-dollar bills from his person. Five hundred dollars for a pair of dirty worn gym socks? I'd heard that some guys fetishized woman's feet but damn, I never imagined that my nasty gnarled feet could garner this much compensation. 

While I was intrigued, I would be betraying my personal morals if I handed my socks over for him to do who knows what with them. He must've noticed my pensive expression because he continued to sweeten the deal further.  

"Tell you what, I'll cover your rent every month if you just leave your worn socks on my door every time you walk by." His eyes did not waver, this man was dead serious. My jaw dropped at his offer and a smile inched across his face as he realized he had me. Before anyone judges me, my rent is fifteen hundred dollars. As a broke college student, this man was offering something I couldn't refuse.  

I bent down to unlace my sneakers, and I swear, I could hear his heart pounding out of his chest. Or was it mine? I'm not quite sure, I'd never done anything like this, so you could imagine the conflicting emotions I was feeling. I pulled my sweaty socks off my feet, and a twinkle formed in his eyes as my toes met the open air. His lust-filled stare caused me to scrunch my toes away, pressing my toenails against the hot mid-day concrete. I tossed my moist balled-up socks into his hands. He picked up the money and handed it over to me. I was slightly confused, he said he'd cover my rent but was also handing me the five hundred dollars? My face must've screamed confusion because he clarified.  

"Think of this as a tip." I was shocked. When I didn't take the money, he laid it back on the ground and slowly stepped back into the apartment door, shutting it closed. I hesitantly picked the cash off the ground. I was a few hundred dollars richer and free of the burden of my rent payment. This, however, did not free me from the mild guilt I felt. 

As the weeks drew on, I stayed true to our agreement. Every time I would walk by the office, I would stop to take my socks off, placing them at the foot of the office door. Jarred also abided by our agreement. In fact, he went above and beyond. Anytime I would lay sweaty gym socks at his door, I would end up finding an envelope wedged into the crack of my door, usually with some creepy message saying something like 'Keep them coming.' But behind his notes would always be a large tip. I don't care who you are, if someone is throwing money at you for something so idiotic you're going to do it.  

One day, I decided to wear a pair of flip-flops on a quick run to the grocery store, the first time since our agreement started that I did not wear socks. When I returned from my little escapade, I had nothing to lay at the door. I didn't think it would matter much, I'd already given Jerred a few dozen pairs of socks, but I was wrong. When I didn't stop at Jarred's door, he rushed out in what I thought was fury.  

"What are you doing?! Where are the socks!" His outburst made me cower inside my hoodie, but as I looked into his eyes, I could see they were giving off fear rather than anger.  

"I-- I don't wear, socks with flip-flops," I said in a shaky tone. Jarred gripped two handfuls of his hair and produced a very guttural scream of frustration through his throat. 

"You don't know what you've done! I--I'm going to have to pay for this." From behind him wafted out the pungent reek of body odor, I surmised it was the weeks of dirty socks lying around the apartment, but as I glanced over Jarred's shoulder I noticed a figure resting atop his couch, dressed in quilt-like garments. As my eyes adjusted, the figure started to become clearer. It was not an actual person, but a life-sized doll, stitched from the many socks I'd given him over the weeks. It was facing a little TV, and I could tell Jarred had just been snuggled up to the doll, because the couch cushion next to the doll had the distinct impression of Jarred's backside. My ears began to ring at the creepy sight. 

Jarraed noted my gaze and moved to dispel any misconceptions about the situation.  

"It's not what it looks like." He said showing me his clean palms. When my gaze didn't break connection with the doll, he tried breaking it with his body, stepping in front of my line of sight. The doll briefly disappeared behind Jarred's frame, but as I craned to see the doll, it moved.  

The doll's head slowly pivoted away from the TV and looked towards the door. A woman's monotone voice came in the direction of the faceless figure. 

"Honey, did she bring some more?" My senses were overloaded. I instantly went into flight mode and darted off towards my apartment. As I ran away, I heard Jarred pleading for mercy.  

"NO! Please honey, I'll-- I'll make it up to you." He begged. But as the door creaked closed, I heard several loud bangs and Jarred's anguished screams.  

For the next week, I was too scared to walk by Jarred's door. I opted to take the long way around to the parking lot whenever I needed to go somewhere. But as much as I tried avoiding Jarred, I had this strange feeling that he was watching me, a suspicion quickly confirmed when I ran some trash to the dumpster. As I tossed the garbage bags in the container, I had a feeling that someone was staring at me from around the far end of the apartment's walls. I don't know what got into me but as I walked around the opposite end of the apartment's size I pressed my body against the masonry, waiting for whoever was spying on me to step out into the open, as if I already didn't know.  

Jarraed scurried out of the shadows and made his way over to the dumpster. He didn't hesitate to jump in, tossing out the garbage bags I had just disposed of. When they rested on the pavement, he ripped them open, presumably looking for old socks. I, however, knew that he wouldn't find any. He already had all of my old worn-out socks; I won't be tossing out any old pair for some time. But as Jarred pulled out the contents of my bathroom's disposables, I saw his eyes gleam with excitement, he had found my toenail clippings. My skin crawled when he pressed them against his face, caressing them as if they were a Godsend.  

I couldn't hold back my gasp, and he cocked his head in my direction. When his face met mine, I saw his left eye was swollen and bruised. Now I knew what punishment had befallen him when I had no socks to give him a week prior.  His eyes widened with surprise, and I made a run for it.  

"Wait! Stop! You don't understand, if I don't get her your socks, she's-- she's going to kill us both!" I paid no mind to his begging. When I reached my apartment, I slammed the door shut. Jarred, grunted in frustration from outside my window when he finally caught up. Through the muffled tone of the door, his voice slithered into my place.  

"If we don't give her what she wants, she'll come for you next. It may already be too late for me. Just give her what she wants." His voice signaled genuine doom. He started walking away, his steps echoing in my head. I've been cowering in my apartment since yesterday, I've packed a bag and was ready to make my escape early this morning, but when I opened the door and looked down the corridor towards Jarred's door, a familiar quilted stare met my face. I barricaded myself in my apartment. 

I am pretty sure Jarred is dead, and if I don't give this thing what it wants, I think I'm next.

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/spnsuperfan1 on 2024-10-08 03:57:37+00:00.

---

A vampire, a witch, and a werewolf. Seems like the set up for a bad joke am I right?

Well, as it turns out, my whole life is just one bad joke. Because as my luck would have it, my roommates Matthew, Sharron, and Damien are literal, honest to god, monsters.

Matthew is a witch, Sharron is a vampire, and her boyfriend Damien is a werewolf. I’ve been living with these people for literal months and they chose now to tell me the truth?!?

Okay, let me back track and explain to you how I ended up in this situation.

A couple months back I hit a rough patch in my life. It was the off season at work so my hours had been cut (I work at a themed cafe). And then my girlfriend cheated on me and kicked me out of the house, essentially leaving me homeless. I was depressed and desperately in need of a new place to live, so I did the stupid thing and browsed roommate wanted ads on Craigslist. Theirs was the first one I clicked on.

Botta-bing, botta-boom, next thing you know, the four of us were meeting up at a local restaurant to discuss my possible tenancy.

They had their reservations about me at first, as did I them. I mean I answered their craigslist ad for crying out loud! That’s gotta be suspicious to someone considering the site’s historic link to some of the most gruesome true crime cases in this century. Then again, they did put the ad on the site to begin with so… hence the meeting.

Well, my first red flag should’ve been that we met up at night. I guess since it wasn’t too late in the evening when we met (around seven pm) and was in a fairly public place, I thought nothing of it.

After meeting up and getting the pleasantries out of the way we started introducing ourselves. I told them my tale, mostly trying to earn pity points so they’d let me crash with them- which I think worked pretty well considering I ended up moving in.

Mathew went next. He was an above average looking guy with blonde hair, blue eyes, average height. Pretty normal and unsuspecting looking. I learned he worked as an anesthesiologist assistant and spent his free time either at the library or reading in his room.

It was obvious Sharron and Damien were a couple based on the fact they sat together, were holding hands, and stared at each other with lovey-dovey eyes. They looked like complete opposites to each other.

Sharron definitely fit the goth esthetic with the pasty white skin, long silky black hair, and the signature red lip. Though she looked young, she carried herself with this ‘wise beyond her years’ confidence.

Damien, on the other hand, was a tall and stalky black man with thick dreads and a goatee. Despite his intimidating physical appearance, he wore a green and white flannel button up with grey khakis, was very nice, and actually seemed quite timid giving off mega nerd vibes.

Sharron was definitely the dominant one in the relationship.

Turns out Sharron worked nights at a gas station not too far from the apartment and Damien worked from home doing IT work. See, told you, nerd. Or maybe the correct technical term is geek? I dunno.

All in all, everyone seemed to be pretty chill. But, I should’ve known something was off with the three of them as soon as we placed our orders. Working in food service, I’ve learned you can tell a lot about a person by the food they eat.

Sharron only ordered a coffee. At seven pm. clearly she had some kind of eating disorder or special diet. (Little did I know how right I was about that). Matthew skipped right past the appetizers and entrees, immediately ordering a chocolate cake type dessert. Weird, but not totally eccentric. Damien’s order was normal enough, a porterhouse steak bloody rare. The look that shone in his eyes as soon as it was set down on the table almost unsettled me though.

I ordered buttered noodles and chicken tenders since I’m a picky eater, so I couldn’t really say shit, and I didn’t. We ate dinner in between polite small talk before we got down to it.

They were looking for a serious roommate. Someone who paid rent on time, helped with groceries, all that. Specifically, they wanted someone who could be trusted, someone who wasn’t loud and could keep to themselves. Someone peaceful and unproblematic. Something their last roommate apparently hadn’t been.

I reassured them that would be me or at least I would try my best to be. They bought it and invited me over for a tour of the apartment the next day.

Apartment four-thirteen. It was the thirteenth, and largest, unit on the fourth floor. It was a four bed three bath with about two-thousand square feet. Matthew had the master, and despite being together, Damien and Sharron had their own rooms, but shared a connected bathroom. I would take the empty room, which was the smallest, and have my own bathroom. The communal spaces were the large living room that had floor to ceiling stain glass windows and the decently sized kitchen. Rent was nine-seventy five, bills were separate, all due by the fifth of the month. And my commute to work would be easier there. Honestly, it was a pretty sweet deal that I just couldn’t pass up.

After they gave me a final offer and we got the lease all settled, I was moved in by the end of the week.

Now, you might be asking yourselves, “Joey, how did you not realize there was something off about your roommates?”

Well, to be honest with you, everything was going so well those first couple months I didn’t really notice. Mostly because everyone’s hectic schedules prevented all of us from being in the apartment at the same time for an extended period.

I work all kinds of crazy hours at the cafe during the day so I was in and out of the apartment sporadically. Since Sharron worked nights the most I saw of her was when she came home in the morning and when she left for work at night. Matt was pretty much always at the hospital or the library. Damien stayed in his room all the time playing video games and doing his IT work.

When all of us were home, we pretty much just stayed confined to our personal spaces. Looking back on it, now knowing the truth, there were some signs.

Matthew had a full on garden growing in his room and so many candles that even candle hoarders would deem that many as too much. He also always seemed to have a homemade remedy at the ready for any injury or problem that could arise.

Sharron kept her room dark dark. The walls were painted black and most of the accents in her room were either deep shades of red or gray. She has a mini fridge under her desk, but when I saw her room for the first time, it was covered with a dark sheet, but I’m pretty sure there was a pad lock keeping it shut.

Once a month, for about a week, Damien seemed to get irritated pretty easily. He also stocked up on red meats during that time, leaving the apartment in a perpetual state of smelling like a steakhouse. Then at the end of that week, Damien and Sharron would leave for a date night, not returning home until late in the evening the next day.

So, what led my roommates to reveal their true identities to me (intervention style I might add)? Well, I think it all started last week when I started developing some symptoms and feeling sick.

I let everyone know I wasn’t feeling well and would try my best to quarantine myself to my room to prevent the illness from spreading. Matt offered me a special cream, a salve I think he called it, to try to help alleviate my symptoms. I politely refused.

About mid week I noticed that the roommates had become a little more involved than usual, Matt and Damien especially. They would constantly check up on and keep an eye on me as I tried to recover.

I thought it was sweet at the time.

After a couple of days, I recommended that they get out of the apartment for a bit because I didn’t know if the bug I’d caught was contagious. Reluctantly, they agreed, on the condition that I would see a doctor if I still wasn’t feeling well when they got back. I agreed to their terms, deeming them as fair.

I’m glad they left when they did, because the worst of the flu or whatever I had occurred when they were gone. Nobody should’ve seen me like that. My days were full of body aches, chills, and strange hallucinations. At some point though, my fever must’ve broken and I instantly started to feel better, my body back on the mend.

I was in the middle of preparing a nice soup when my roommates returned home. I was feeling better, but still felt off kilter, and decided soup was just what the doctor ordered.

“Hey guys!” I greeted as the three of them came in through the front door. My tunes blasted in the kitchen as I chopped vegetables next to a boiling pot of water that was eagerly waiting to boil my chosen meat. I waved my hand that held the knife at them while wiping some sweat off my forehead with the other. “I’m making soup, you guys want any?”

Matt dropped the grocery bag he was carrying as he saw what I was cooking. Damien’s jaw practically fell to the floor, and Sharron took a cautious step back.

“What the fuck, Joey?!” Matt stuttered as he slowly walked through the apartment. He pushed my slightly ajar bathroom door fully open.

“What?” I asked defensively, “It’s just soup!”

Damien stepped in. “There’s an arm on that cutting board!”

I furrowed my brows in confusion, sucking some tasty vegetable juice off the tips of my fingers. I looked down. Sure enough, sitting right next to my pile of chopped celery and onions was a woman’s severed hand an...

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This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/sleepydevs on 2024-10-07 23:34:38+00:00.

---

Charlie here. I need to get this down while it's still fresh, while I can still differentiate between what was real and what was... something else. It's been three days since we fled that godforsaken cottage in Wales, and I still wake up in cold sweats, fumbling at my face to remove a headset that isn't there.

It was supposed to be a holiday—a chance for my family to unwind and for me to test out the latest tech. I work in software design, you see, always chasing the next big innovation. When Apple announced their Vision Pro headset, I knew I had to have it. Not just for me, but for Megan and Lily too. A shared family experience, I told myself. A way to bond.

God, what a idiot I was.

The drive from London to the Wye Valley was long (ish), but beautiful. As we wound our way through the Welsh countryside, the rolling hills gave way to dense forests and misty valleys. Lily, our ten-year-old, pressed her nose against the window, eyes wide with wonder.

"Look, Dad! It's like we're driving into Narnia!" she exclaimed, her excitement infectious.

Megan, my wife, smiled and squeezed my hand. "I have to admit, Charlie, you picked a gorgeous spot. Though I'm still not sold on spending our holiday staring at screens."

I grinned back at her. "Trust me, love. This isn't just staring at screens. It's a whole new world."

If only I'd known how prophetic those words would be.

We arrived at the cottage just as dusk was settling in. It was a quaint stone building, nestled at the edge of an ancient forest. The nearest neighbour was barely visible through the trees about half a kilometre away. Perfect isolation for our digital getaway.

As I unloaded the car, a sudden gust of wind rustled through the trees. For a moment, I could have sworn I heard whispers carried on the breeze—unintelligible words in a language I didn't understand. I shook my head, trying to clear it. Just my imagination playing tricks, surely.

"Everything okay?" Megan asked, noticing my pause.

I forced a smile. "Yeah, fine. Just tired from the drive, I guess. Come on, let's get inside and set up."

The cottage was cosy, if a bit musty. While Megan and Lily explored, I set about connecting our Vision Pro devices to the cottage's Wi-Fi. It was slower than I'd hoped, but it would do.

"Alright, family!" I called out, unable to contain my excitement. "Who's ready to step into the future?"

Lily came bounding down the stairs, nearly tripping in her eagerness. "Me, me, me!"

Megan followed more slowly, a bemused smile on her face. "Alright, tech wizard. Show us what all the fuss is about."

I handed out the sleek headsets, helping Lily adjust hers properly. "Now, remember," I instructed, slipping on my own, "we're going to be in a shared family environment. That means we can see and interact with each other, even if we're exploring different apps or games."

As the Vision Pro booted up, our modest cottage living room transformed. The walls seemed to melt away, replaced by a vast, starry expanse. Lily gasped in delight, reaching out to touch a glowing nebula that wasn't really there.

"It's... wow," Megan breathed, her earlier scepticism forgotten as she gazed around in wonder.

I grinned, feeling vindicated. "This is just the beginning. Watch this." With a gesture, I changed our environment to a lush, sunlit forest. Beams of golden light filtered through verdant canopies, and the sound of birdsong filled the air.

Lily squealed with joy, running to hug a massive, virtual tree trunk. "It's like we're really outside!"

We spent the next hour exploring different environments and apps. Megan particularly enjoyed a meditation app that transported her to a tranquil beach at sunset. Lily was enamoured with an educational game that let her explore the inside of a human cell, shrinking down to the size of a molecule.

As for me, I was in tech heaven, marvelling at the seamless integration of the virtual and real. I could still see Megan and Lily, their avatars perfectly mimicking their movements, even as we explored different digital realms.

It wasn't until later that evening, as we were winding down for bed, that I noticed something odd. As I was closing apps and preparing to remove my headset, I caught a flicker of movement in my peripheral vision. A shadow, there and gone in an instant.

I turned, but there was nothing there. Just the cottage walls, overlaid with the fading forest environment.

"Everything alright, love?" Megan asked, noticing my sudden movement.

I hesitated, then shook my head. "Yeah, fine. Just thought I saw something. Probably just a glitch."

But as I lay in bed that night, sleep eluding me, I couldn't shake the feeling that the shadow had looked... almost human.

The next morning dawned grey and misty, perfect weather for staying in and exploring our new virtual worlds. After breakfast, we each donned our headsets again. Megan wanted to try out a yoga app, while Lily was eager to return to her "Enchanted Forest" game.

I decided to do some work, using the Vision Pro's productivity features to create a virtual multi-monitor setup. As I sorted through emails and mockups, I found myself continually glancing over my shoulder. That nagging feeling of being watched persisted, though I tried to rationalise it away.

It was around midday when Megan's voice cut through my concentration.

"Charlie?" There was an edge to her tone that immediately set me on alert. "Can you come here a moment?"

I found her in the kitchen, her headset off and her face pale.

"What's wrong?" I asked, slipping off my own device.

She wrapped her arms around herself, as if chilled. "I... I don't know. It's silly, really. But when I was doing yoga, I kept feeling like... like someone was standing right behind me. I could almost feel them breathing on my neck."

A chill ran down my spine, remembering the shadow I'd glimpsed the night before. "It's probably just the immersion," I said, trying to sound reassuring. "The tech is so good, it can trick your brain sometimes."

Megan nodded, but she didn't look convinced. "Maybe. But Charlie... even when I closed my eyes, I still felt watched."

Before I could respond, Lily's scream pierced the air.

We raced upstairs to find her huddled in a corner of her room, headset discarded on the floor. She was sobbing uncontrollably.

"Lily! Sweetheart, what happened?" Megan rushed to her, gathering her in her arms.

Between hiccupping sobs, Lily managed to choke out, "The... the funny man. He was in my forest. He was watching me, and then... then he started chasing me!"

I picked up her headset, checking for any obvious malfunctions. "It's okay, love. It was just a game character, that's all."

Lily shook her head vehemently. "No! He wasn't supposed to be there. He was all dark and... and wrong."

As I tried to calm her down, something caught my eye outside the window. A flock of crows had settled on the branches of the nearest tree, their black feathers glistening in the weak sunlight. What struck me as odd was their behaviour—every single one of them seemed to be staring directly at Lily's window, unnaturally still. As I watched, they tilted their heads in perfect unison, as if listening to some unheard command.

A chill ran down my spine. Something was very, very wrong here.

The rest of the day passed in a haze of unease. We kept the Vision Pro headsets off, trying to enjoy the cottage and its surroundings the old-fashioned way. But the sense of being observed never quite left us. Even with the devices safely stowed away, I'd catch myself glancing over my shoulder, half-expecting to see that shadowy figure lurking in a corner.

As night fell, the mist thickened, wreathing the cottage in a ghostly shroud. Lily was still shaken from her earlier experience, so we decided to have a family movie night to lift her spirits. As we settled onto the sofa, my phone buzzed with a notification.

"Odd," I muttered, picking it up. "I thought we barely had signal out here."

The notification was from an app I didn't recognise. The icon was a simple eye, stark black against a white background. Frowning, I opened it.

A single message appeared on the screen: "Y gwyliwyr wedi deffro. Rhedwch."

"What's that, Dad?" Lily asked, peering at my phone.

I shook my head, closing the app. "Nothing, sweetheart. Just a bit of spam." But a chill ran down my spine. I didn't speak Welsh, but I had a sinking feeling about what that message might mean.

Later that night, after Megan and Lily had gone to bed, I pulled out my laptop and began researching. As the first grey light of dawn began to seep through the windows, I found myself deep in a rabbit hole of ancient myths and legends.

Y gwyliwyr. The watchers. References to them cropped up in scattered tales and half-forgotten stories. Spirits of the mist, some said. Others claimed they were guardians of the ancient forests, punishing those who desecrated their lands. But one common thread ran through all the accounts: those marked by the watchers were never truly free of their gaze.

A creaking floorboard startled me from my research. I looked up to find Megan standing in the doorway, worry etched on her face.

"Charlie? What are you doing up so early?"

I hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. "Just... couldn't sleep. Thought I'd do some work."

She came closer, peering at my screen. "Welsh folklore? This doesn't look like work."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Megan, I... I think something strange is going on h...

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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Prudent-Dig-9812 on 2024-10-07 22:05:52+00:00.

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Hey guys. The question’s in the title - I could really use some advice on this, and honestly, I don’t know who to ask. I tried posting on other subreddits but everyone said I was just making this all up. I’m hoping someone here will be willing to listen and help me figure out what to do, if anything.

To start out, I’ll tell you what you need to know about me, and as much as I can about my roommate. 

My name’s Brennan, and I’m a junior in college - I won’t say the name, but it’s an “elite” school in the south that I honestly wouldn’t have been smart enough to get into without football. I’ve been here on a sports scholarship for the last two years as a kicker for the football team. At the end of the day, I never actually cared that much about football. I thought it was fun, I was good at it, and it got me a free ride at one of the best colleges in my region. Plus I got unlimited food from any of the school cafeterias, which always felt like a win. 

Of course I didn’t get the kind of attention a quarterback gets, but it definitely won me some cred on campus, and a few looks from some of the cuter girls in my class. I even made it onto the posters the student government would put up around campus to hype everybody up before a big game, though that was really more embarrassing than anything else. The coaches and players on the team were always asking me if I wanted to play professionally after graduation, and I’ll admit, I did let the praise get to my head a bit.

I hadn’t made up my mind back then what I wanted to do, but at this point, professional sports are a lost cause anyway. I tore my ACL at the end of last school year. The doctors told me I’d need surgery to get back to playing, not to mention extensive rehab, and I still would never be back to 100%. I thought it over, talked with my parents about it, and ultimately just decided it wasn’t worth it.

Most of my social interaction was with other guys on the team, and I spent so much time practicing I didn’t have time to join a frat or clubs. I went to parties often as a freshman, but once the hangovers started interfering with my football performance, my parents pretty much forced me to sober up so I wouldn’t lose my scholarship. I can’t really say they were wrong to do it, but it definitely hurt my social life. I never realized how much people my age were obsessed with drinking until I became the one guy on the team who didn’t, and people started acting like I was a total square. Still, I had some friends left that I’d hang with after practice or study for tests together, so it wasn’t too bad. But the same friends started treating me like an outcast once I lost my spot on the team.

All that to say, here I am starting the fall semester of my junior year with no scholarship money, no friends, and not much to do with my time other than get a part-time job. I started working at the school cafeteria this summer, which sucks, but at least I work regular hours and the pay could be worse. But even with the income, I realized I still wouldn’t be able to afford the apartment I’ve been living in for the last year. I didn’t want to move at this point - the landlord mostly leaves me alone, the location is practically on campus, and the next-door neighbors aren’t noisy, smelly, or creepy. So, my dad suggested I find a roommate. 

Which brings me to Aldous. 

I honestly don’t know that much about the guy, but he seemed fine when I met him. The first thing I noticed was how clean and neat his whole outfit was, even the backpack wasn’t grimy like mine. The second was his eyes. Maybe I just haven’t met many people with green eyes, but the ones I can remember have all had at least some blue or brown mixed in, and this guy had eyes that were just straight up green as grass. Which is weirder than you think when you’re actually seeing it in person. Maybe that’s what made me feel like something was just a little bit “off” about him, though that effect seemed to wear off after a while. 

He was in my year, though I hadn’t had any classes with him or actually seen him around campus before. That made sense, not only because it’s a decently big school, but also because he and I didn’t really have anything in common. I found out he had been taking classes in Chemistry, Biology, Art History, and Anthropology. Meanwhile I was taking entry-level math and science just to meet graduation requirements and filling up the rest of my schedule with business and Econ classes, plus whatever electives upperclassmen on RateMyProfessor thought were easy and chill. 

Still, he was clearly clean and smart enough not to trash an apartment, and seemed like the quiet type. I was sure he wouldn’t be one to have crazy parties late at night or invite strangers into our space when I was trying to get work done. Maybe his smarts would even rub off on me – apparently we were signed up for the same psychology class that upcoming fall, so I hoped I could at least ask him for help if it turned out to be tougher than I thought. 

So, since I’d decided he wasn’t going to be a total freak or annoying as a roommate, I moved all the workout equipment I used to use and started sub-letting the room to Aldous. Yes, I know that’s not legal, but my landlord is kind of a pain in the ass and probably wouldn’t have let him move in until fall, and I needed the extra money as soon as possible. He agreed to pay half the rent and half the utilities, and promised he’d be sure not to inconvenience me as a roommate. 

That at least turned out to be true. He was pretty much the ideal person to room with. He was always polite and drama-free, always paid me his half of rent a few days in advance, kept the kitchen clean (even washing my dishes sometimes if I put it off more than 30 minutes or so), never used up all the limited hot water in the shower, and even rearranged a few things in the living room that made it way more neat and organized. Even though it was summer, he spent a lot of time at the campus library or working in his room, so he never bothered me, but also didn’t complain when I played music or watched TV in the main area while he was working. The few times I asked him to hang out, he politely told me he didn’t have time but appreciated the offer. Sure, he wasn’t the most outgoing, maybe a little too formal if you ask me, but he made up for it - especially when he’d “make a bit too much” food at dinner and let me help myself to a free meal. He never cooked anything too fancy, but it was fresh, and a hell of a lot better than the cup noodles and frozen meals I usually eat while the main dining hall is closed on the weekend. Man, I miss the athletic center cafeteria now that I don’t have access anymore.

Overall, I pretty quickly got used to having Aldous around, and I felt like I’d struck gold finding this guy. He himself seemed happy with the arrangement too, and I figured once school started I’d be even more glad to have the extra help with chores, so I didn’t expect any problems this fall. Then things started getting weird. 

Aldous had told me before the semester started that he’d been planning to start a research project, which would take up most of his time after class in the evenings. Apparently it was for a course called “Science in Medieval Literature,” whatever that meant. When I asked, he told me the names of the other classes in his schedule, and they all seemed kinda obscure, except for the developmental psychology class we were both signed up for.  There was one called Mind-Body Medicine, some high-level biology or chemistry lab, and “Ancient Latin Philosophy” or something like that. I can’t remember the rest. He said he was triple-majoring, so I guess he really had to pack a lot into his schedule this year. What he was going to do with all that random knowledge is beyond me, but he told me he was “still deciding” what to do after college and he’d probably end up in grad school. That sounded about right- this guy seemed to be into school more than anyone else I’ve ever met. Even his name and appearance were nerdy. He wears round glasses, collared shirts, sometimes with sweaters on top, with long jackets and ironed pants. His hair is probably a little less than shoulder-length? (I’ve never actually seen it down), and he wears it pulled pack in a short ponytail most of the time. He always goes out in these “dark academia” style outfits that are all over TikTok these days. I’ll admit, he must pull it off well, at least based on the smitten looks I’ve seen him get from girls on the few times we’ve walked back from class together. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little jealous. Not that any amount of attention would be worth it to me to walk across campus in that kind of getup, but still. 

Sorry, I know it seems like a lot of random information at this point, but I’m trying to tell you everything I know about Aldous cause I have no clue what could turn out to be relevant. Anyway, when class started up, everything was normal for the first week or two. Usually he’d stop by the library on the way home, but 3 days a week we had our psych class together last period and like I said, he walked home with me a few times. He’d always talk to me if I started a conversation, and he does have a weird kind of charisma when he talks (maybe a little too smooth? Everything is starting to seem suspicious now), and he always seemed interested in whatever I was saying, so it was enjoyable enough...

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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/WPToss on 2024-10-07 11:43:15+00:00.

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I’ve never been particularly good at anything. You know that feeling you get when you try something new and it just ‘clicks’, everything makes sense, you’ve got a real knack for it? Yeah, I’ve never really had that feeling. I’m unathletic, painfully average in my studies, not great at music or making friends or getting girls, nothing. 

If you’re sharp, or, I guess, nitpicky, you’ll be asking yourself “how does he know what it feels like to be a natural at something if he’s never experienced it?” Well, because for once in my life, three weeks ago, I finally did. It was so wonderful, I was elated. Now, though, I wish I never had that feeling. I wish I’d stayed in ignorance, blissful, blissful ignorance, I wouldn’t be cursed with knowing what I now know. 

Anyway, I should explain before I get carried away. 

Monday three weeks ago, I walk to school like it’s any old day. I’m struggling because I’ve been up playing playstation until 2 am as usual, so the lights are on upstairs but nobody’s home. I trudge into class and take some half-hearted notes, stare a bit at Elle Lamonte in front of me, when my friend, Ari, taps me on the shoulder and begins the conversation that will seal my fate. After seeing the bags under my eyes and recoiling a little, telling me I need to get more sleep, he says he read something interesting online: “Jamie, you’ve gotta try this,” he insists. He tells me that with a bit of practice and awareness, a normal person can experience lucid dreaming, which I’d always thought was some sci-fi thing, but he promises me it’s real, anybody can learn to ‘wake up’ inside their own dream, and do whatever they want. He tells me he’s not great at it yet, but he’s managed it once or twice. Not full awareness, he says. He realises he’s dreaming, but part of his brain is still sleeping, so he’s not really thinking logically or in any complex way, but still, he says the experience is really cool.

I take it with a grain of salt, to be honest. Ari has been known to tell a few tall tales, so my hopes aren’t particularly high, but still, I figure there’s no harm in looking it up when I get home that afternoon. My initial searches show me that there may have been truth to Ari’s words after all. I read up on some basic techniques, how to check if you’re in a dream, that you should never make the assumption that you’re in reality. I check if there are any serious risks, which apparently exist, but are rare. Sleep paralysis sounds kind of scary, and a few people complain of irritating headaches for a few days after they lucid dream, but I don’t come across anything too horrendous. 

Anyway, the websites all say not to expect results too quickly, and it’s a slow burn, so I rush through my homework, eat dinner and play playstation for a few hours before heading off to bed at 9, which my mum does think is a bit weird, but she doesn’t question it, just happy to see me getting a decent sleep for once, I guess. 

I know it said not to get my hopes up, but I admit, I did. Before long, I drift off to sleep, and then it happens. 

As if from nowhere, I awake. I’m at home, playing playstation like usual, but even without doing any tests or checks, I realise it: I’m in a dream. 

 I remember what Ari told me, and what I had read online: that it takes time to gain proper awareness in a lucid dream; at first it’s a sluggish train of thought, struggling against the brain’s natural inclination to shut itself down while asleep. I feel nothing like that, though. I feel incredible, more awake than when I’m actually awake. I look at my hand and marvel: my vision is crystal clear, my movements smooth and fluid, I stand up, feel infinite possibilities course through me and smile uncontrollably.

Remember that feeling I talked about? Of being a “natural”? Well, this was it. I knew this was finally it, something I was genuinely amazing at. I had full control of my dream. I snapped my fingers and my dingy room was at once replaced with a gorgeous sparkling beach, pearl-white sand and aquamarine ocean stretching out to the horizon. A banquet sprung up before me, covered in fried chicken, bacon-and-egg sandwiches, everything I could ever want. I looked behind me and there she was: Elle from class. 

Clad in a black two-piece that contrasted starkly to her seashell-pale skin, she grinned and pulled me into an embrace, closing her wonderful round, blue eyes wordlessly and kissed me. 

It was exactly how I had imagined it. Well, perhaps owing to the fact that I was imagining it, but still, it was so visceral, so real. I could feel her warmth, hear her voice exactly as she sounded in real life, it was uncanny. 

I pushed her away for a moment, smiling slyly, and conjured up with a mere notion, Richard Wrenn. I haven’t mentioned Richard until now because, well, he’s fundamentally quite unimportant, but just trust me on this: he’s a dick. And so, I took great satisfaction in directing him to stand ten metres from me, levelling my arm at him, and transforming my arm into a plasma cannon that proceeded to blast a two-foot-diameter hole in his torso. You might think this was a little cruel, and yes, maybe it was, but it wasn’t like he was real. He was just in my imagination. If he’d made me suffer a whole bunch in real life, I figured a little dream revenge that couldn’t actually hurt him wasn’t so bad in return. 

After watching him suffer for a moment, I vanished his burning corpse, and returned to my banquet, and to Elle.

I won’t bore you with the details of the next few hours, but just take this for my word: It was genuinely the most fun I’d ever had. Any wish that occurred to me, whatever I wanted, it was instantly granted. 

The only thing that bothered me was… this little feeling. The best way I can describe it is: sometimes when I’m playing playstation and my mum isn’t home, I feel this sensation like she’s watching me from behind, and I turn around, even though I know she’s out and can’t possibly be there. It was a bit like that, like even though I was totally alone, like there were eyes burning into the back of my head. 

It was a little thing, though, and I only felt it briefly, once or twice, so I just ignored it. Eventually, I felt the dream start to fade as my sleep cycle naturally ended, and I woke up to a new day. 

It was an odd concoction of emotions: on one hand I felt incredibly well-rested. Most mornings I could barely drag myself out of bed, but today I felt revitalised, energetic, totally ready-to-do-it. I attributed this partly to actually getting a good night’s sleep for once, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that the lucid dream had something to do with it as well. Not only was it a great time, but it seemed to be like super-sleep, I was totally refreshed. 

Anyway, I walked to school more peppily than ever before, even having a little swagger in my step for a change. It felt odd seeing Elle in real life after my dream, but I played it cool and waved to her as I walked in, and to my surprise she gave me a big smile and waved back. It wasn’t uncommon for her to just blank me, so this was actually pretty big. It wasn’t making out on the beach, but still, a nice bonus to my already great morning. 

I couldn’t help but tell Ari how great I was doing, and how amazing my lucid dream was after I sat down beside him in class. 

“Well, that makes one of us,” he grimaced back at me. 

He told me he’d had another sort-of half lucid dream last night, but now he had a splitting headache. I nodded and told him I’d read that could happen, he must’ve got unlucky. He seemed kind of jealous when I told him how incredible my dream had been, but I think he wasn’t entirely sure I was telling the truth, which I thought was a bit rich coming from him. 

Anyway, the next few days were sort of a fuzzy blur. I won’t go through every little thing, but I’ll give you the highlights. In short: they were awesome. Every night I had an amazing, full awareness lucid dream: I hung out with Ari, with Elle, feasted, explored the world and even the galaxy, it was genuinely too perfect to describe. In real life, too, I can’t fully explain it, but I think because I knew I could get whatever I wanted in my dream, I stopped worrying so much about the little things in day-to-day life, and so it all just flowed more easily. I was bursting with energy every day, I started talking to Elle for real, having lunch with her a couple of times. I even ran into Richard Wrenn in the corridor one day, and he just sort of winced and walked off without even hurling an insult at me! Everyone told me I was looking great, the bags under my eyes were gone, I even aced a maths test that I’d thought I’d be lucky to escape with a C. It was all coming up roses. 

There were little niggles, though. That feeling… The one of eyes burning into the back of my head, it didn’t really go away. Every night, I’d feel it for a little while, before it went away. I considered that I was imagining it, but part of me thought it stayed a little longer each night. 

I looked it up on the forums, but nobody else ever described anything like it. One thing I noticed, weirdly, though, was that a lot of people were complaining of severe headaches after lucid dreaming, just like Ari had. I searched old posts, and it turns out that these complaints had only started up in the past few months. At first, it was a few obscure mentions of mild headaches, but now there were multiple every day ab...

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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/PostMortem33 on 2024-10-07 20:10:31+00:00.

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The nights are the worst. The few minutes of sleep come with nightmares­—the kind that stay with me for days on end. But even that is better than what I’ve been carrying inside since birth.

I’ve always been of the belief that some people are born with “monsters” attached to their mind. A dark companion, an unseen creature in the passenger’s seat of this car called life.

Happiness, I do not know. I have never once been happy about anything. Relationships come and go, it’s good for a little while, but the result is the same every time. Nothing brings joy and my life is hell. The sun has never shone on my dead-end street, and it never will. I am one hundred percent sure of this.

Apathy is my middle name. Anxiety lives inside me. Depression flows though my crooked veins.

Each day brings along with it the same bitter reality­—endless agony.

Yet, I am not alone. I don’t know what or who accompanies me, but I can always sense when it’s here. If you’re like me, you know exactly what I’m talking about. I’ve called this companion Mister Musician.

Whenever he comes to me, my soul turns into this sad and depressing violin song. If I close my eyes, I see a large room filled with faceless people dressed in black and wearing white gloves staring at me. I know I am on a stage. I don’t see anything else except them. But I know behind me, there is my monster, my eventual demise: Mister Musician. And he plays his song slowly. And he caresses the violin’s chords with his deadly bow.

Often, I imagine the violin to be my own beating heart and Mister Musician pulls away at its strings until they will all eventually break­—a timely death of all things beautiful.

Yet, that time isn’t now. I want to heal. I want to know how good life tastes like. I want to slurp the nectar and honey of happiness.

I thought about doing this thing for a long time now. I know it will work, but it takes lot of courage to go inside that old house.

Some people say the house is demonic, built by the devil himself ages ago. One thing is true: no one really knows who the house belongs to, who built it or how old it is. This adds to the aura of mystery surrounding this old wooden construction. Others say it heals you on the inside, takes away all your problems and makes you alive again— it grabs ahold of  all your broken parts and glues them back together.

 The Miracle House.

One must spend twenty-four hours inside. Only after that, one can say the healing of mind and soul is complete.

Most people I’ve talked to said only it works, but didn’t disclose any details about the events that occur in the Miracle House­—after all, it is a deeply personal experience.

However, I will tell you all about mine because why not? There is nothing to be hidden from you, and maybe it will help others build up the courage to face their demons and even kill them once and for all.

I have never felt as anxious as I did before stepping foot in that house. From the outside, it was a regular one. It smelled old and the paint had peeled off. The steps were filled with dust and dirt, signs of no one living there anymore.

The only thing off was that the windows painted black. I thought it had something to do with the passing of time. Whoever was inside mustn’t know what the hour is.

The front door opened, and a man came outside on the porch to greet me.

“Hello there? I thought the house was abandoned.”

“Hello mister. I suppose you’re here get rid of your demons. Correct?”

“Yes.”

“Great. Do not ask me any questions, please. You need to give me your phone and any other devices you might have. Communication with the outside is prohibited.”

“This feels odd. How do I know you won’t steal my phone?”

The man exhaled and shook his head. He began closing the door.

“Wait! OK, but just so you know I have GPS tracking activated.”

“I won’t steal anything from you, young man. But this house will.”

I nodded.

“See you tomorrow. Same time. Good luck, Jack.”

I swallowed. How did he know my name?

The man locked the door from the outside. I heard him going down the steps.

Then, only silence.

Dampness filled the air. In the hallway, wood burned in the fireplace. The flames cast shadows on the walls around me. They resembled little black devils dancing with excitement. An old burgundy leather chair faced the fireplace and on it was a folded piece of paper. I opened it to read the following:

“Dear Jack,

The Miracle House welcomes you with open arms. Please sit on the chair as you continue to read.

Now, I know your pain. I’ve seen it before. I will take it from you. You are scared and wondering if this will work. You ask yourself if the living hell you’re enduring will ever end.

Dearest Jack, it will end. All of it. You won’t even remember the agony in your old life. I will take this burden from you.

Now, focus on the fireplace. Embrace the warmth of this beautiful house. Be one with it. Your eyes begin to feel tired. You need to sleep for the next two hours, Jack. Sleep.”

And so, I did.

I didn’t dream anything. I didn’t have any violent nightmares like I usually did. It was a peaceful and restful sleep. I opened my eyes and found myself in another room. A bloodied knife appeared in my hand. I screamed and threw it on the floor. Both my arms had fresh cuts on them, but those didn’t hurt. Not a single bit.

After the initial shock wore off, I knew something was off but in a good way. I felt lighter than before—as if the poison in my veins had leaked on the floor and evaporated.

I smiled. Was this the way to absolution?

A door creaked open behind me, and I jumped. My gut told me to go through.

I found myself in a place where the air reeked of bleach. The bright neon lights almost blinded me. Dirty ceramic tiles covered the whole room. A bathtub filled with black water stood in its center.

Someone had taped another piece of paper on the wall.

“Jack, you feel lighter than ever before, don’t you? You can’t understand what is happening, but it’s good. You want more of this. You must wash away all the rotting things inside. Darkness eats darkness. Step inside the small black ocean and let its tranquility carry you away.”

I got in the bathtub straight away. No hesitation. The Miracle House indeed performed miracles.

I closed my eyes and relaxed. The warm water had an oily texture. Somewhere in another room I heard a metallic sound as if someone had dropped millions of nails on the ground. My skin suddenly hurt. It burned like millions of needles punctured it. I tried getting out but was stuck. I couldn't. A black hand extended from under the water with bony fingers and long sharp nails. It lunged to my neck and choked me. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t do anything. The cold dead hand squeezed my throat until I passed out.

This time I woke up in a completely dark room. No light, no windows, nothing. Just blackness.

“Oh, my dear Jack,” a voice said from a distant cold place. “You are here at last.”

“Who are you?”

“You know me very well, dear boy. You have known me all your life. You even gave me a name.”

“What?”

“Yes. You did. Mister Musician.”

A wave of fear washed over me. A fear so great like never before. I was in the same room with my arch enemy, my nemesis. Was this the end?

Again, I sat down on a chair. I thought it to be the same chair in the hallway.

“You ruined my life since the day I was born.”

“And you cut me out from your veins, drowned me and cast me out. And now here I am.”

“What is this place?”

“The Miracle House. Where all the pain comes to die. The place where you stay face to face with your demons.”

“But what are you?”

“I am you. You are my child. I have made you. I have molded you into what you are. I love you, Jack.”

I heard footsteps coming towards me.

“Stay away from me!”

“Too late for that, Jack. You wanted me gone. You ripped me from you and brought me here.”

“That means I’m cured. No more pain.”

“Are you sure about that, my dear boy?”

Hands touched me from all directions in that pitch black darkness. Tongues licked the fresh wounds on my wrists.

“Oh, the pain tastes amazing!” Mister Musician said.

My stomach churned and I felt nauseous. I vomited and heard large chunks of flesh hitting the floor. They squished and hissed and made all kind of sounds­—they were suffering and dying.

I felt like large tumors left my body in a rush.

Two red dots blinked at me. They studied me with inquisitive awe and disbelief. I was healing. The evil was leaving my body, never to come back in again. Now, he was a separate entity. His lies and deceiving tongue told me all kinds of things.

“I made you what you are. Who would you be without me, Jack?”

“I’d be free.”

“Do you think I will ever die? No, I will not. I’ll come back again and again until your mind explodes. Do you really think this house performs miracles?”

“Well, it got you out of my system, didn’t? You are scared too right now. You don’t know what do with this new reality you find yourself in.”

Mister Musician groaned with discontent.

“You will never survive without me, Jack. I will be part of you forever.”

I felt things crawling up on me—wet, sticky, emanating a foul smell. They hissed as they  moved slowly. Thousands of them wanted to get under my eyeballs, up my nose, inside my ears and mouth. I tried to get them all off me, but they wouldn’t let go. The vile parasites wanted to infect me and eat me from the inside out.

I turned away from the voice and the w...

---

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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Weird-Suggestion-152 on 2024-10-07 18:34:19+00:00.

---

I still remember that Halloween night like it was yesterday, even though it was the fall of 1998. I was thirteen, still young enough to trick-or-treat, but old enough to know it would probably be my last year. You know, that awkward age where you’re not a kid anymore but not quite ready to let go of the things you love? Yeah, I was right there.

My best friends, Josh and Ethan, and I had made plans weeks in advance. It wasn’t just about the candy; Halloween in our town was a huge deal. Streets would be packed with children, and parents partied while kids ruled the night, running through lawns with half-assed costumes causing mischief. The houses were decorated to the max, with fake spider webs stretching across porches, jack-o'-lanterns flickering orange on every step, and skeletons hanging from trees. And the air, it had that crisp bite, just cold enough to see your breath when you exhaled, but not so cold you needed more than a sweatshirt. You could smell the damp earth, fallen leaves, the chocolate, and a little something else, that scent of plastic from store-bought costumes. Man, it was perfect.

The three of us had met up at Josh’s house as soon as dusk started to creep in. His parents were hosting one of those Halloween parties for grown-ups, the kind where they hand out apple cider to the kids and spiked cider for themselves. We had on our last-minute costumes, nothing fancy. Ethan had thrown on a scream mask, Josh was a zombie, and I was wearing a cheap Batman cape with a black hoodie.

We hit the houses on our street first, just to get things going. The wind rustled the orange and yellow leaves at our feet as we walked, and you could hear them tumble along the pavement. The sun had just about disappeared, leaving behind this deep purple hue in the sky, the last light of day slowly fading away. Porch lights flicked on, and soon we were moving through the first wave of trick-or-treaters, those little kids with their parents holding pillowcases already stuffed with candy. The sounds of giggling, the wind blowing through the trees, the occasional shriek from someone who got spooked by a fake ghoul on someone’s lawn, it felt like Halloween in its purest form.

After a few blocks, we made our way to Franklin Street. Now, Franklin wasn’t like the other streets, it had the biggest houses, old Victorians that had been there for over a century. They always went all out for Halloween, each house trying to one-up the other with elaborate decorations and bowls filled with full-sized candy bars. All of the houses on Franklin Street looked like they came straight out of a Halloween movie. All except one, the Mallow house.

Everyone in town knew about the Mallow place. It was creepy all year round, not just Halloween. The house had been built sometime in the 1800s, three stories tall with an overgrown yard that looked like it hadn’t been mowed since before I was born. The owners, Mr. and Mrs. Mallow, were an older couple who never came outside. I think I saw Mr. Mallow once or twice picking up mail, but he was always gone before I could say hello.

As we got closer to Franklin, Josh nudged me. “Give you a handful of candy if you knock on the door at the Mallow place this year.”

I laughed it off. “Sike! And then what, get murdered?”

But deep down, I was feeling that familiar pull. The dare, the challenge. It wasn’t Halloween without doing something a little stupid, right?

We made our way down Franklin Street, along with all the other trick-or-treaters. There was a constant buzz of chatter and laughter as we joined the crowd moving slowly down the sidewalk. The Mallow house loomed ahead of us as we made our way closer to it, sitting completely dark. The gate at the front of the yard was open, the path leading up to the front porch covered in a layer of wet leaves. As usual, there were no decorations. No fake cobwebs, no plastic tombstones, no pumpkins. But it didn’t need scary decorations. The house was scary enough on its own.

I didn’t even have to say it aloud. We all knew it was next.

Josh and Ethan started slowing down as we got closer, and I could feel the shift in the air. The excited banter between us had faded to an awkward silence. It was that kind of house that no one really talked about, but everyone knew to just stay away. You always passed by a little quicker, maybe glanced at it out of the corner of your eye, but you never lingered. It wasn’t because it was haunted, there were no ghost stories. It was just… creepy.

People whispered about the Mallows, mostly rumors. Mr. Mallow was some kind of veteran, though no one was sure, and Mrs. Mallow was even more of a mystery. Some said she had dementia and was shut up in one of the upstairs rooms. Others swore she was dead. Either way, no one had seen her in years.

“I’m not going up there, they’re freakin’ weirdos!” Ethan said. He tried to sound casual, but I could hear the edge in his voice.

Josh kicked at the sidewalk, trying to act like he wasn’t bothered.

I glanced up at the house. A hulking Victorian with peeling paint, sagging roof, and windows that seemed too narrow, like they were squinting down at you. Every year, that house stood there, untouched by Halloween spirit, no pumpkins, no lights, nothing.

Josh, of course, wasn’t going to let it go. He had this thing about proving himself, especially if Ethan and I were around. That year, we’d spent most of our afternoons watching Faces of Death tapes in his basement, trying to outdo each other’s tolerance for gore. He’d never admit it, but this wasn’t about candy, it was about who would back down first.

He nudged me, a grin plastered on his face. “I’ll go if you go.”

My stomach knotted, but I wasn’t about to back down, not in front of them. “Fine,” I muttered, “but we’re in and out. We knock, get the candy, and leave.”

Ethan looked between us, clearly not thrilled, but he wasn’t about to be the only one to chicken out. “Let’s just make it quick,” he said. “I don’t wanna hang around this place.”

We crossed the street and made our way toward the Mallow house. The closer we got, the colder it seemed to get, as if the place had its own climate. I could feel the dampness in the air now, the earthy smell from the neglected garden mixed with the scent of old wood. Our footsteps crunched softly, and the sound seemed to disappear into the thick silence surrounding the house.

When we reached the gate, we paused. The iron bars were rusty, and the gate itself hung crooked on its hinges, like it hadn’t been opened in years. But tonight, it was ajar, just wide enough for us to slip through.

Josh, ever the brave one, was the first to step inside. The moment he crossed the threshold, the air seemed to thicken. I followed, feeling the weight of the atmosphere pressing down on me. Ethan brought up the rear, looking back over his shoulder every few seconds, as if expecting something, or someone, to jump out from behind the bushes.

The porch creaked under our weight as we climbed the steps. I could see the door now, a massive oak thing with a brass knocker shaped like a lion’s head. It looked ancient, the kind of thing that looked like it belonged in a museum. The windows were dark, covered with heavy curtains that looked like they hadn’t been opened in decades. I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were being watched from behind them.

I reached out and grabbed the knocker. I hesitated for a second, my hand hovering over the cold brass, before bringing it down with a loud thunk. The sound echoed through the house, hollow and unsettling.

We waited.

For a long moment, nothing happened. The wind picked up, rustling the leaves in the yard, but inside the house, there was only silence.

Josh shot us a look, trying to play it cool, but I could see the tension in his jaw. “Well” he whispered. “I guess no one’s home.”

Ethan turned to leave, “sorry guys, nope, peace out.” But before he could leave, we heard it. The faint creak of floorboards, like someone shifting their weight inside.

We froze. Another creak, closer this time. Then, the soft click of the lock being turned.

The door opened slowly, inch by inch, until it revealed a narrow gap. No light came from inside, just darkness so thick it felt like it could swallow us whole.

And then, a voice. Low, raspy.

“Come in.”

I glanced at Josh, expecting him to make some stupid joke and bolt, but his face had gone pale. Ethan took a step back, muttering under his breath. “Hell no, man. No way.”

But before any of us could move, the door opened wider.

Standing there in the doorway was Mr. Mallow. He looked even older than I expected, more skeletal. His skin was waxy, stretched tight over his bones, and his eyes... you couldn’t see them. They looked hollow, empty, shadows casted around them like two black holes. He didn’t smile, didn’t offer any kind of greeting, just stood there, staring at us.

His clothes were dirty, stained in patches I couldn’t identify, and his hands… his hands were covered in something dark, like oil. My stomach turned as I tried to make sense of it all.

“Trick… or treat,” Josh said weakly, his voice cracking.

Mr. Mallow’s gaze flicked down to Josh, then back to me, and finally to Ethan. His lips twitched, like he was trying to smile but had forgotten how. Slowly, he raised one hand, motioning for us to come inside.

“You boys are just in time,” he rasped. “We’ve been waiting.”

I felt something cold ru...

---

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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/RaynaClay on 2024-10-07 13:57:56+00:00.

---

The ping from the computer in the corner tells me that a new order just came in, which means he will be back soon to cut me open. I can still feel the knife on my skin from the last time. The wounds are long gone, of course, but the memory never seems to fade. You’d think with all the money he has made off of me, he could afford to sedate me properly. He always said there was no reason to bother because he had invested in soundproofing the room, instead. At least he gave me this phone, mostly so I could play offline mobile games, because he obviously couldn’t let me have internet access. Which is why, when I finish writing this, I am going to send it, even if it can’t go to anyone, yet. That way, if this phone is ever connected to the internet, even by accident, hopefully it will go through. No matter where I am by then. Either way I should hurry, I don’t have long to tell my story.

So, how did I end up here? Well, I am sure everyone says this, but the whole thing started innocently enough, with a car crash. I was 17 at the time, and we were all on our way back from a party. It turned out that the designated driver hadn’t been taking their job as seriously as we had expected. I don’t remember the accident. Either I had fallen asleep in the car, or my mind just blocked the memory out, I’ll never know, but I do remember waking up in the river. The car was upside down and water was seeping in, slowly filling the space around us. It might sound strange, but I remember my first thought so clearly, even all these years later. It was: please don’t let me die in my shitty hometown.

I won’t say where I lived, exactly, it isn’t really important. If you have been to any small town, you know what it was like. It wasn’t just that it was boring there, with nothing to do in the evenings but drive out to a field and get drunk with whichever classmates could manage to sneak out that night. It wasn’t just that I was a teenager yearning for bigger and better things. After all, I haven’t been a teenager for a long time, and I still hate it there. No, it was the people. I am sure they weren’t any worse than people anywhere else, but with so few of them present, relatively speaking, it could be inordinately difficult to find anyone you really meshed with. Sometimes, you just had to spend time with anyone you could tolerate, and who returned the favor. After the accident, there weren’t many of those left for me.

I was the only one that survived that night. The paramedics were astounded that I was still alive, after so long underwater. They theorized that I must have ended up in some sort of air pocket that kept me breathing until they arrived and pulled the car out. I tried to tell them what had really happened, that I had, in fact, been breathing in river water for over an hour, feeling myself drowning and dying over and over, but without the blissful darkness to release me. Instead, I would reset back to perfect health, then repeat the process again. Just a functional eternity of agony, until rescue came. No one believed me. They chalked it up to a near-death hallucination. And eventually, I convinced myself of that, too. After all, the alternative was impossible. It took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that I survived, when no one else did. But that’s not something I want to dwell on here, I’ve dwelled on it enough in therapy. Regardless, I put the strangeness of that night out of my mind. Until the next time I died.

I was home from university visiting my family over the winter break. I figured that the only stress would be from trying to hide my new tattoo from my mother. The housefire disrupted that a bit. When the firefighters pulled me out of the basement, where I had been trapped by the flames, they told me it was a miracle I had survived. This time I knew for certain that I hadn’t. I felt my death. But it couldn’t claim me, for some reason. And I needed to figure out why.

That wasn’t a quick process, so I will spare you the details and just summarize what I have learned over the years. The first, and most important, thing I found out is that everyone gets one, and only one, request of the universe. The trick is you don’t get to decide which of the many requests you will probably make over the course of your lifetime gets granted. It seems to be mostly random. That is why most people don’t even notice that this happens, because what they are granted is so small or random that there is no way to tell anything unusual even happened. How many times have you silently wished for a traffic light to turn green before you get there, or for a table to open up at your favorite restaurant, or for the zipper to come unstuck on your jacket? We make so many tiny, inconsequential wishes or requests of the universe that most people’s boon ends up being nothing special. Mine was a little different.

Basically, I can’t die, but only if I am in my hometown. Yes, I have tested that. It turns out it was sort of a monkey’s paw type deal. I got what I wanted, but only that. I won’t die in my shitty hometown, but the second I leave, all bets are off. I would recommend that people be careful with their wording, but it wasn’t like I was even intentionally making a wish, was I? How could I have known? How could anyone?

So, the whole thing was a bit of a mixed blessing. Immortality might seem like a nice thing to have. But it also meant I was stuck there, in the place I hated since I was a child. I could still have left, of course. Realistically, I would only have been taking the same risk that anyone does when living their life, but how many of you could really walk away from that kind of safety? Whatever you think, you’ll never really know until you are faced with the same decision. I used to leave time to time, but whenever anything went wrong, all I could think was what if I die here, like this? So, I left town less and less. Drawing in on myself. Perhaps the irony was intentional, the wish I made because I wanted nothing more than to leave was what kept me there, of my own free will.

So, I stayed. But, since I knew I couldn’t die, I began taking greater and greater risks. Perhaps it was to make up for my own cowardice, or perhaps it was simply because I was miserable. I bought a motorcycle that I drove much too fast. I took up base jumping, spelunking, bungee jumping, rock climbing (though the cliffs in town were nothing to write home about). And that was how I met Reese.

Reese was part of the admittedly small thrill-seeking community in town. Honestly, he was kind of a dick, but like I said, in small towns you have to make do with what you’ve got. At least he was… exciting. People said that he took things too far, that he was reckless, even cruel. But that was what I liked about him; he was interesting. And really, what was he going to do, kill me? We dated for a while, mostly just casual, but I had fun with him. Maybe a bit too much, because one day I blurted out something I shouldn’t have. I told him I couldn’t die. He didn’t believe me, of course, who would? He just thought I was drunk, which in fairness I was, or I wouldn’t have said anything in the first place. In the sober light of day, I was glad he hadn’t believed it and hoped he would just forget the whole thing. Maybe he would have, if it hadn’t been for the climbing incident.

It was just the two of us up there that day. We were free soloing up a somewhat challenging route that I hadn’t tried before, and no one else was crazy enough to join us. Maybe I was trying to impress Reese a bit, I am not really sure. Whatever the reason, I jumped for a handhold that I couldn’t quite reach, and I didn’t make it. I fell a long way and landed badly. And I don’t mean a broken leg or a sprained shoulder, badly. I felt my neck hit rock, felt it snap. I knew I had died there. I could always tell when I died, and it just didn’t take. This was definitely one of those times. On the upside, it did resolve the cold I had been struggling with for a few days, so silver linings. You see, a few moments after I die, my body simply resets to a state of perfect health, slate wiped clean. If it didn’t hurt in a way that I can’t really even describe, I would probably have used it to cure all my ailments. But I digress.

By the time Reese climbed down to me, I was already brushing myself off and preparing a story about how I had managed to catch myself a couple of times on the way down, so I really didn’t fall that far. I’d hoped his view of my tumble hadn’t been very good. But I could tell by the look in his eyes that I hadn’t been that lucky. He’d seen everything. And he knew I was lying.

Reese didn’t call me out on it, though. He acted like everything was normal, and we even continued to see each other. I convinced myself that I had gotten away with it and resolved to be more careful in the future. Then the accidents started. The first time it happened, I was just walking up to his apartment when the air conditioner dislodged itself from the window and came hurtling down, landing only inches from me. Reese apologized profusely, saying he was trying to do some repairs, and it slipped. But it kept happening. My brakes failed, I got brutal food poisoning whenever he cooked for me, I stepped into the shower to find that the tub had been greased. I probably let it go on longer than I should have, but I assumed it was just bad luck, at first. After all, he would have to be crazy, right? But eventually it was ...

---

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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Hobosam21 on 2024-10-07 18:43:49+00:00.

---

previously

Hey all, I’m back. Let me catch you up on what went down.

I returned to work for my next shift, like usual Jordan was already in his office. I avoided eye contact as made my way to my desk.

Allyson set up at the desk next to me. Before we had a chance to get settled in the phone rang.

I picked up, “Greenbrier 911 what is your emergency?” An out of breath male voice replied, “thank God! I’ve been trying to get a call through all morning! I’m at the top of Aquinas Peak, we’re logging up here and we need help”.

I took notes and prepared to contact Greenbrier PD, “ok, can I get a name and nature of the emergency?”

“Todd, Todd Shippenior. I can’t believe I’m saying this but I think there’s a werewolf out here”. I noted the possibility of a predator.

“I know it sounds crazy, last night Bob and I were pulling the over night shift. You know, so no one messes with our equipment while we’re gone. It must have been nearly midnight when I felt something was off. Bob was snoring away so I got up, I had to take a leak anyways”.

“Anyways I head outside to check on things, it was a clear night so I didn’t need a flashlight to see. I’m probably a couple hundred yards away from the trailer we sleep in when I hear the screams. As I’m running back I can see the whole trailer rocking back and forth!”

“It’s like there’s an elephant in there running around. I stopped, something inside of me is telling me to run. With an explosion of wood and metal Bob flies through the wall of the trailer. His bald scalp is hanging off the side of his head. I can see intestines strung across the ground behind him”.

The man chocked up as he continued.

“He.. he wasn’t dead though. He managed to get into his hands and knees, but with each cough more of his internals would spill out onto the ground. I wanted to help, I wanted to go to him. But something came out of the camper, it was big for a wolf”.

“It’s shoulders stood too high, resembling more of a hyena than a wolf. It casually walked up to Bob, with a sick pleasure it slowly closed it’s jaws around Bob’s head. He screamed and kicked as it applied an ever increasing amount of pressure, it was almost a relief to hear his skull pop. The woods were quiet again”.

“That’s when it looked up and saw me. We made direct eye contact and I swear it smiled. I bolted for the yarder, it was fast but I had enough of a head start. With a leap I managed to reach the bottom rung of the ladder, I climbed as fast as I could. That’s probably what saved my life, that thing had jumped and grabbed the ladder as well. I know it sounds crazy but it started climbing up after me!”

“Knowing my life was on the line I climbed faster than you would think possible. I got to the landing and had just enough time to grab the winch bar, I bashed that thing across the knuckles and then again over the head”.

It fell all the way to the ground and crunched as it hit the dirt. I thought that would be the end but it got back up, it circled me until daylight. All of the sudden it froze, it seemed to be listening. Than it sprinted into the woods. I suspected it was a trap”.

It wasn't until I heard the screams of the morning crew a few miles down the road that I understood what had happened. I took my chance, I climbed down and retrieved my phone. And that’s when I finally got through”.

I sent an abbreviated version to dispatch before returning to Todd.

“I have help on their way, it will be at least an hour before they get to your position though so just stay put and remain calm”.

“Believe me Miss, I won’t be going anywhere. Not until a lot of guns show up. My battery is about dead though so I’m going to hang up and try to preserve it”.

Filling out that report took a decent amount of time. Especially when the police called back to say they couldn’t find anyone at the site. But all the equipment was demolished to the point it was barely recognizable and then burned.

But I didn’t have time to dwell on it, there was another call waiting for me.

“Greenbrier 911 what’s your emergency?” A female answered, “the voices are back. The ones coming up from the drain. They won’t stop talking, I feel them digging around in my brain!”

“Ma’am let’s take a moment to assess the situation, these voice you hear, do you recognize them?”

Yes! Yes! I’ve been hearing them all week, they’re my friends now! But they keep asking me to do things I don’t want to, but I might have to”.

I didn’t like the way she sounded, there was a disconnection from reality in her voice. I got Jordan’s attention and signaled for him to start tracing the call.

“Ma’am sometimes those who we think are our friends aren’t very profitable to have around. If they won’t respect your personal boundaries than you need to find new friends”.

She was quiet for a bit, I thought maybe she was thinking about what I had just said. But than she spoke again.

“They don’t like it when I go places, and they said you should mind your own business Kylie. Otherwise you might find yourself spending more time in your basement”.

The line clicked off. I sat there frozen, just holding the phone in my hand. Jordan was saying something but it sounded muffled. How did she know my name?

Audio suddenly came back, Jordan was yelling at me to call back. Allyson was telling him to watch his tone. The phones were ringing.

Snapping back to my training I sent dispatch the address and let them know there was a possible mental breakdown happening. Jordan was pissed but I was not going to call that number back.

The police arrived to find a murder suicide, this mother of two had drained the blood from both of her children into the kitchen sink before slitting her inner thighs and bleeding out herself.

It felt like the world was spiraling into chaos. But again there was calls waiting for me, “Greenbrier 911 what is your emergency?”

All that came through was heavy breathing. Steady moist breath assaulted my ear, then a silky smooth voice drawled. “Busy busy aren’t we? Leave me to mine”. The line went dead. I chose not to redial that one either.

There was a traffic call, Rhodesian Ave was blocked by balloon animals. Not possessed or violent balloon animals, just regular balloon animals. Thousands of them, to the point you couldn’t see over them and no one wanted to risk driving through them. It was a major inconvenience but no one was hurt.

I was never so glad to see the sun rise, our shift was nearly over. It had been a constant barrage of death and violence.

I must have been on auto pilot because the next thing I knew I was flopping onto my couch. Exhausted but hungry I sat there not wanting to move. Allyson came up the stairs with a pair of grilled cheese sandwiches, I must have dozed off because I hadn’t heard her cooking. She had also changed into shorts and a tank top without me noticing.

“Are you alright?” Allyson asked, “you had kind of a rough day, you wanna talk about it”. I accepted the food thankfully, “not really. I just feel like things are getting so much worse lately. Just today we’ve had four deaths and six missing persons. That’s, that’s a lot”.

Allyson was quiet, wanting to change the subject I tried asking about her personal life but she didn’t want to talk about it. I had assumed since her parents hadn’t bothered to cut their vacation short after hearing she had been kidnapped they must be pretty shitty people.

But I really didn’t know anything about Allyson, she was six years younger than me. A little taller, extremely pretty but no boyfriend. I’m fact she didn’t seem to have any friends at all. She just went to work and came home and slept.

A knock at the door made me jump, I sat up a little straighter. Before I could stand though I heard the door unlock and open. A voice from downstairs called out “honey I’m home!” I sighed in relief, it was just Dean. “Upstairs!” I yelled back.

Allyson looked at me in confusion, “ I didn’t know you had a boyfriend”. Her tone was oddly accusatory. “I don’t, we aren’t dating we’re just friends”.

She didn’t look convinced “and the friend has a key?” I nodded, “yeah, what’s wrong with that? He’s a good guy, we’re not dating but I enjoy spending time with him”.

I heard the clunk of Dean dumping his service belt onto the downstairs table. The steps creaked as he jogged up them. He stopped at the top, “oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had someone over. I can split”.

I told him that wouldn’t be necessary and introduced him to Allyson who was acting strangely cold. She excused herself to the guest room stating she was tired.

When she was gone Dean turned more serious, “so I want to talk to you about something. I was on that mental breakdown call this afternoon”.

I winced at the memory.

“Yeah I know, pretty rough. But listen Kay, that’s the seventh call like that this week. And that’s just the beginning, I heard the voice. I’m not crazy, I heard a faint whisper coming from that blood filled drain. It knew things that it couldn’t have known. That no one knows. The reason in here though is because it said they will be coming soon, coming for the girl on the phone”.

This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/HerScreams on 2024-10-07 15:41:06+00:00.

---

I had been working late again, something I’d grown used to over the past few months. Chicago never truly sleeps, and it was common to see people still moving around the streets, even as the clock ticked past midnight. My apartment was just a few blocks away, and I’d made this walk home more times than I could count. The night was cool, the streetlights buzzing softly overhead as I made my way down the familiar route.

There wasn’t much traffic, which was typical for this time of night. The occasional car would pass, and sometimes I could hear the distant hum of the L train. I checked my phone out of habit, scrolling through notifications without really paying attention to them. A message from a friend asking about plans for the weekend, a reminder about a bill due tomorrow . Just the usual.

As I approached my building, I noticed Tom, my neighbor, outside by the garbage bins. He had a cigarette between his fingers, the glow lighting up his face briefly as he nodded in my direction.

“Burning the midnight oil again?” he asked.

“Yeah, work’s been crazy lately,” I replied, pausing for a moment before heading toward the door. “You?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he said, shrugging. “Figured I’d step out for a bit.”

I nodded, pushing the front door open. “See you around.”

“Take it easy,” Tom replied before I disappeared inside.

The elevator was sluggish as usual, and I found myself staring at the scratched-up panel of buttons. I lived on the fourth floor, and as the elevator crept upward, I glanced back at my phone. More notifications, more things to deal with tomorrow.

When the elevator doors finally opened, I stepped into the quiet hallway. My apartment was at the far end, and I could see a faint light coming from under my door .  I must have left the lamp on when I left earlier. Not unusual. I always forgot little things like that.

But when I reached my door, something caught my attention. The door wasn’t closed all the way. It was barely noticeable, just a fraction of an inch, but it was enough to make me stop. I didn’t remember leaving it like that. I stood there for a moment, staring at the door, my hand hovering just above the knob.

I reached for the door, but as I grasped the knob, I froze. The door was unlocked. I was sure I had locked it before leaving, as I always did. I stood there, staring at the knob, trying to make sense of it. Maybe I had been in such a hurry earlier that I forgot. But no, I distinctly remembered the click of the lock as I left.

A knot tightened in my stomach as I pushed the door open. The apartment was quiet, everything seemingly in its place. The small lamp in the living room cast a soft glow, illuminating the familiar surroundings. I stepped inside and locked the door behind me, twisting the lock back and forth as if to reassure myself that it was working properly.

I walked into the living room, tossing my keys onto the counter, and that’s when I saw it. Lying on the coffee table, where nothing had been earlier, was a photograph. My breath caught in my throat. I didn’t remember leaving it there, and more importantly, I didn’t own any printed photos.

I stepped closer, my heart thudding in my chest. The photo was of me. Taken earlier today, on my walk from work. I recognized the street, the same one I had walked down just hours ago. My hand trembled as I picked it up, flipping it over to see if there was anything written on the back. There wasn’t.

Whoever took this photo had been watching me. They had followed me, and now they had been inside my apartment.

I felt a rush of adrenaline, my mind racing with questions. How did they get in? Had I really left the door unlocked? I didn’t think so. I quickly scanned the room again, looking for anything else that might have been moved, but everything seemed in place. I checked the windows, but they were locked too.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my pocket, startling me. I pulled it out, half expecting to see a message from the stalker, but it was just Tom, my neighbor.

“Hey, you okay? You looked kind of off earlier,” his message read.

I stared at the screen, my thoughts too scattered to reply right away. Tom had been outside when I came home. Could he have noticed something? Should I tell him about the photo?

I hesitated for a moment, staring at Tom’s message. Should I tell him about the photo? Part of me wanted to confide in someone, but another part felt like I needed to keep it to myself, at least for now. I didn’t know what I was dealing with, and jumping to conclusions didn’t feel right.

After a long pause, I typed out a quick reply: “Yeah, just a rough day at work. Thanks for checking in.”

I put my phone down, running my hand through my hair as I tried to steady my breathing. The photo still sat on the table, taunting me. My mind raced, thinking through all the possibilities. Who had taken it? Why leave it here? How did they get in?

Trying to distract myself, I turned on the TV, hoping that some background noise would help calm my nerves. But I couldn’t focus. My thoughts kept circling back to the unlocked door and the photo. It was almost like someone wanted me to know I was being watched . Someone who knew I’d come home tonight and find their little message.

I stood up and walked around the apartment, checking the windows again, though I knew they were already locked. My eyes wandered over every corner of the room, looking for anything else out of place. Nothing. Just that photo.

The buzz of my phone startled me again. Another message from Tom.

“If you need anything, let me know. I’m up for a while.”

I stared at the message, feeling uneasy. Tom had always been friendly, but now it seemed like he was paying extra attention. I hadn’t noticed it before, but maybe I had never looked for it. Was I overthinking things? Or was it just a coincidence that he was always nearby, always checking in at the right time?

I didn’t respond to his message. Instead, I paced the room, glancing at the clock. It was past midnight now, and sleep felt impossible. My mind kept going over the day, trying to remember if I had seen anyone suspicious, anyone who might have followed me.

Suddenly, a soft knock came at the door.

The knock at the door sent a jolt through my body. I wasn’t expecting anyone at this hour. I hesitated, my heart pounding in my chest as I tiptoed toward the peephole. It was Tom, standing there with his hands in his pockets, looking casual. For a brief second, I felt relieved. Then, I remembered the photo on the coffee table and the unlocked door. My nerves tightened again.

I opened the door just a crack, trying to keep my voice steady. “Hey, what’s up?”

Tom smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sorry to bother you. I thought I heard something strange, like someone messing with your door earlier. Just wanted to check in, make sure you’re okay.”

I blinked, trying to process what he was saying. “You heard someone?”

“Yeah, probably just some drunk or something, but it didn’t seem right,” Tom continued, his eyes flicking past me into the apartment. “Thought I’d make sure everything was cool.”

My hand gripped the edge of the door tighter. I wasn’t sure what to make of this. Tom had always been friendly, but the timing of his concern felt off. And if he had really heard something, why hadn’t he called me or knocked earlier?

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, trying to close the door a bit more. “Thanks for checking in.”

Tom’s smile faltered just a bit. “Okay, well… just let me know if you need anything.”

I nodded, forcing a smile before closing the door fully and locking it. As soon as I was alone again, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Something about the whole situation didn’t sit right with me. I glanced back at the photo on the table, the reminder of someone having been inside, watching me.

My phone buzzed again, and I nearly jumped. Another message from Tom.

“Sorry if I freaked you out. Just being a good neighbor.”

I stared at the message, feeling my skin crawl. He was being too attentive, too involved. It was hard not to connect the dots. First the unlocked door, then the photo, and now Tom always seeming to be around at the perfect moment. I couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew more than he was letting on.

I decided I needed to talk to someone, so I called my friend Sarah. As the phone rang, I paced around the living room, my mind still racing. When she finally answered, her voice was groggy.

“Hey… everything okay?” she asked, clearly half-asleep.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Something weird’s been happening. Someone was in my apartment earlier, I think. They left a photo of me from today.”

There was a pause on the other end before Sarah spoke again. “That’s creepy. Did you call the police?”

“I’m not sure what to tell them.. and I…” I stopped mid-sentence, glancing at the coffee table again, where the photo still sat. It felt like it was staring back at me, an eerie reminder that someone had been close enough to take it. “I don’t even know what to say. What if they think I’m just overreacting?”

Sarah’s voice grew more alert. “You’re not overreacting. Someone took a photo of you and left it in your apartment. That’s serious. You need to call them.”

I bit my lip, considering it. “Maybe you’re right. But… it’s just so bizarre. And Tom keeps checking on me. It’s like he knows something, but I don’t know if I’m being paranoid.”

“Wait, Tom?” Sarah asked, confused. “Your neighbor?...

---

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This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/BuddhaTheGreat on 2024-10-07 07:22:03+00:00.

---

If you’re totally lost, check out this index.

No, you’re not hallucinating the title. Don’t judge me, it’s difficult to be spooky and mysterious all the time. In fact, you’ll probably find that it was the best way to summarize the morning’s events.

Remember when I talked about a late breakfast? Well, by the time I woke from my ‘brief nap’, the sun was already shining way overhead. It was noon. Even worse, I was still bleary-eyed while I freshened up and descended the stairs into the inner atrium. Getting half-frozen to death does tend to do a number on one’s sleep schedule.

Durham was lounging on the couch with a cup of tea, suitcases packed and ready to go beside him. He gave me a thin smile when he saw me, getting to his feet. “Mr. Sen! Sleeping in for the day?”

I motioned for him to sit down, stifling a yawn. “No, no. Just… stayed up late. Discovering the place, you know?”

“Of course. One must familiarize oneself with one’s lot.” He took a sip out of his cup, nodding towards my hand. “Are you sure we do not need to get the ring altered? Your grandfather, God rest his soul, had quite meaty fingers.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think that will be necessary. It fits just fine.”

“I see.”

Some of you had raised doubts as to what would happen to the estate in case there were no firstborn males left to inherit at all, so I raised the question with him.

He rubbed his chin, narrowing his eyes at me. “This question? Already?”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“No, no, I mean, it has only been a day. It usually takes longer before the Thakurs start planning for their deaths.”

I steepled my fingers, leaning forward. “Well, these are unusual times.”

“Yes, I suppose.” He sighed. “In such a situation, there is no prescribed line of succession.”

“None?”

“Well, nothing explicit. Say, if you were to die at this moment, God forbid, without a son, grandson, or any other descendant in your line, we would have no idea who to invite to take over. However, in such a case, the estate has prescribed contingencies.”

“Contingencies?”

“Two sealed documents, kept with us since we started working with your family. They are to be opened only in cases where the firstborn line has been extinguished. They apparently prescribe what is to be done in such a situation.”

“Have you ever seen their contents? Have they been opened?”

“The contingency plan dictates that, in such an event, we are to hand the first document over to the eldest surviving male of the family, who will carry out the instructions contained therein. So, no, I have not seen the document. None of my family have. It is only if every male member traceable is dead or otherwise indisposed that we are permitted to open the second document and put into effect the other, secondary contingency plan within.” He placed the cup down on the table and leaned back, contemplating. “As far as I can recall, only the first contingency has ever been opened, and only once.”

“When?”

“In the time of your grandfather’s grandfather, Durga Charan Thakur. Durga Charan had once disappeared into the forest behind the village, a few weeks after he had been married. Obviously, he had produced no children with his wife yet. A full year passed without any sighting of him, and he was presumed dead. Then, we handed over the first letter to Harihar, his younger brother, who unsealed and read it. However, only two days after that, Durga Charan returned from the forest, battered and gravely injured, but alive. Thus, the plan was never put into effect. The letter was resealed and returned to our custody, where it has remained ever since.”

“Did Harihar…”

“No. He never spoke of the letter’s contents to anyone. Not that I know of, anyway.”

“I see.” I nodded to his luggage, quickly changing the subject before he could press me in return. “All packed up?”

“Yes, your servant has gone to fetch my car. Once he’s found the bloody thing, I’ll be off.” He gave me another smile, though it was less professional and more friendly this time. “Word of advice, Mr. Sen, don’t worry too much about these things. One’s death is a morbid concern. Think about it too much, and you might just attract it.”

“I’m not sure it works that way, Mr. Durham.”

“Maybe so, but in my experience, the paranoid ones die first. Heart attack gets them, if nothing else. Speaking of which…” He nodded towards the outer atrium. “Your uncle has been pacing and muttering out there all morning. I think he’s waiting for you. Better go talk to him.”

“Right.”

He had said we were going to talk in the morning. Snoring through that may not have been the best call. I had already landed myself in deep shit by ignoring my grandfather, after all.

But my mind was still chewing on Durham’s words as I passed through the hallway leading outside the family wing and to the outer, common wing.

Contingency plans. That was frustratingly less enlightening than I had been hoping, but the key pieces were in order: the plan had to be executed by the eldest surviving male of the family. At the moment, that would be my eldest uncle. The circumstances seemed to indicate that contingency was to pass on the estate to the lineage of the next surviving male heir in such an event. It made no sense to pass the property down in any other way.

Given how confusing everything already had been around here, applying logic was a dangerous game. But, reasonably speaking, what else could the contingency even be?

In such a situation, if I die, the contingency would be executed by my uncle, and the estate would probably pass to him. Hell, if I hadn’t been born when I was, my father’s death would have made him the heir. Even in the story Durham had told, Harihar, Durga Charan’s brother, had been the one to receive and execute the plan.

My uncle had lived on the estate all his life. He had worked alongside my grandfather and then my father ever since he could. He knew this land inside and out. Everything the Ferryman had told me about our family, he probably knew. Hell, he probably knew more. Now, he had to see this land, this grave responsibility, passed on to some clueless nincompoop who had managed to run headlong into his death two times in a single day here.

Who wouldn’t be angry?

Who wouldn’t want to fix it?

On the other hand, he had been nothing but supportive ever since I arrived here. Sure, he failed to warn me about the Spirals, but in all fairness, how could he? I came here without calling ahead. I’m sure he knew I was eventually coming, but surely not within a day. Besides, I had ignored all of their attempts at reaching out so far. What’s another missed call or unread letter?

If he wanted to take over the place, he could have done any number of things to me already. Hell, before the events of last night, he could have just asked. I would have handed it over, packed my bags, and hightailed it back to Kolkata.

Why didn’t he?

The truth of the matter is that I don’t know. But I have to find out. In the meantime, I have little choice but to follow his lead.

All these thoughts were swiftly pushed to the back of my mind as I entered the outer atrium. I did notice my uncle on the couch beside my grandmother, perking up as he saw me enter. However, the first thing that caught my eye was outside, in the courtyard.

A burly man in a faded lungi was waiting on the steps of the main entrance, a scarf tied haphazardly around his head. He was bare from the waist up, putting his hairy chest and massive potbelly on full display. His well-muscled arms tightly gripped a rope, the other end of which was tied around an incredibly belligerent goat.

I understand how mundane that sounds, but this goat was anything but ordinary. I had seen some prime specimens in the meat shops of Kolkata, but this one blew them all out of the water. It was burly and large, standing at about half the height of its handler on all fours. Two massive, black horns curled out of its head in perfect spirals, symmetrical in every way. Its fur was shiny, without a single blemish or speck of dirt. The air of filth and odour that ordinarily surrounded village cattle was completely absent. Hell, even its eyes were large and intelligent, almost human-like as they stared right into mine.

Despite the man’s strong build, the goat’s struggles dragged him around easily, forcing him to dig his feet in and use both hands to restrain it. As soon as he saw me, he managed to fold his hands and bow briefly, before the animal yanked him to the side yet again.

My grandmother rose to her feet and rushed to me. “There he is! Are you okay, sweetheart? When Bhanu went to wake you, you were as still as a corpse!”

“I told you he would be fine, maa.” My uncle came up behind her, flashing me another one of his grins. “He had a rough day, that’s all.”

I gave my grandmother a reassuring kiss on the cheek. “Sorry about this. I know we were supposed to talk, but I just couldn’t open my eyes.”

“No problem, kiddo. We can start anytime. You’re the boss now.”

Right. I gave him a small smile in return.

He walked up and lightly touched Grandma’s shoulders. “Maa, you should go rest now. We need to discuss some business.”

“Thakur!”

The man on the steps was calling me, his eyes squinting with effort.

“What do I do with the goat, Thakur?”

“Ah, right.” My...

---

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This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/nomass39 on 2024-10-07 12:30:28+00:00.

---

Dad was drunk again.

Rain swept over my windshield like waves over a beach as I drove him home from yet another bar where he’d made a fool of himself. He wasn’t the drunken brawler type, no. He was a crier. He’d sit at the bar with his head on the table and just start sobbing, wailing, bringing down the whole mood of the place.

Even now, he shifted between crying and sniffling while staring out the passenger window, and half-conscious states where he couldn’t muster the mental coherence to even register such complex emotions. At one point, he even leaned over the center console and tried to hug me, almost making me jerk the steering wheel. “Dad, no. Christ, I’m trying to drive, here,” I snapped at him. “Keep on your half of the car or I’m pulling over.” Like a loyal dog, he recognized the tone of my words even if not their meaning, and shrunk back sheepishly.

Since I was in elementary school, people told me I was remarkably mature for my age. But you kind of have to be, when you’re forced to act like the parent of the family.

The road traveled parallel to our sole local river, the one the schoolkids all called the Devil's gutter. It snaked in and out of sight behind the treeline, as if it liked to taunt every driver that passed. The damned thing was evil, I knew, but I couldn’t help but feel a certain nostalgic fondness for it. It was the only thing offering any sense of danger and mystique to what would have otherwise been the least interesting small town in the country.

From a glance, it seemed mild, shallow and narrow enough to make it across with a leap. There was no way of telling that it was actually hundreds of feet deep, that the undercurrent was stronger than an Olympic swimmer could withstand, that the banks were undercut and impossible to climb back up once you were in, that the carbonated water had intricately carved networks of hundreds of channels and caves deep into the limestone. Misjudge your leap, and you’d be seized by the undercurrent, dashed against the rocks, plunged deep into some dark cave within which your body would be preserved forever, pinned to a wall or ceiling of stone like some macabre decoration.

The gutter features in our every folktale and ghost story. When I was a kid, we liked to tell the tale of ol’ Bart O’Neill, a 19th century prospector whose cat was apparently very popular with the neighborhood toms. Every time she’d get knocked up, it was said, he’d gather up the kittens into a burlap sack and toss them all into the Devil’s gutter.

At least — and this was when whoever was telling the story would lower their voice to a whisper — until they found his body in his bed, shredded by hundreds of small claws. His eyes had been clawed out, his fingers bitten off like carrots, his ribcage torn open. And within his chest, the police found… dozens of tiny poops. That’s right. According to legend, the spectral kittens had used his chest cavity as a litter box.

That was all made up, of course. The crude invention of imaginative schoolboys. But I have looked through old newspapers, and found that someone named Bart O’Neill really did disappear from town a long while ago. No gorey details, just up and vanished. The only oddity I noticed was that, when his cat was found still locked up in a cage in his shed a week after his disappearance, it was well-fed, as if somebody had been sneaking in and caring for it.

See, this is why I hate taking this road. With every glimpse of that river, my mind always wanders. Back to old memories, terrible memories, ones that would have been better left forgotten. It ignites a fire in me, a sort of morbid curiosity I’ve come to dread.

But then dad broke my line of thought with a long, obnoxiously loud groan. And then I was thinking of the first time I had him in my passenger seat, when I was some anxiety-ridden kid, no older than 15, didn’t even have my drivers license yet, my hands shaking late that New Year’s night as I struggled to dodge all the other drunk morons swerving all over the road. New Year’s was always the worst night for him. “This would’ve been our anniversary,” he was groaning. “It would have been our fifteenth.”

I got over what happened to mom over a decade ago. Why couldn’t he?

We aren’t the only people who’ve experienced loss, anyway. When I was growing up, the whole town mourned the death of Annabelle, captain of our high school cheerleading squad. She had tried to jump the gutter, and even cleared it… but there’d just been rain, and the muddy opposite bank gave way beneath her feet, and she went right in. Crazy thing was, fifteen minutes later, they got a ping from some SOS beacon her mother had made her wear. They took this as proof she’d made it out alive but injured, and triggered a frantic search of the surrounding area — with no luck.

There were rumors, however improbable, that she’d found her way into an air pocket somewhere in that limestone cave system, just close enough to the surface that just one of her desperate calls for help managed to make it through. Sometimes I picture her down there, in a kind of darkness I cannot fathom, struggling to keep her head above the water.

I wonder if she knew that surrounding her, somewhere in the dark, were the corpses of those who had been pulled into those caves before her. I picture a gaunt, bleached hand brushing her ankle as those currents carry one by. I imagine her crowded on all sides by the gaunt, empty eyes of the people who’d found their way into that air pocket before her, and never found their way out.

Maybe it was for the best that she would’ve been in complete darkness.

There my mind went, again. I’d gotten another glimpse of the river, and couldn’t help but imagine Anna down there, as if her eyes were looking up at me from beneath those blackened waters.

I tried to turn up the radio, to take my mind off it and to drown out dad’s moaning and sobbing. But he grunted as if the very sound offended him, and drunkenly pawed at the dashboard until he’d turned it back off. I already knew what he’ll say tomorrow. “I’ve let you down,” he’d say, head down like a dog caught peeing on the carpet. “I’ve never been the father I should have been.” And it’ll all be very genuine, and very sincere, and very, very temporary.

I’ve even helped pay for his rehab, once. He’d been found choked half to death on his own vomit. “This is a wake-up call,” he’d said. “I’m finally ready to be the dad you’ve always needed me to be.” A few grand seemed like a small price to pay to have my dad back. And indeed, for a few months of sobriety, he was the best dad on Earth, the best I ever could’ve asked for. And then came New Year’s again, and it was suddenly like none of it ever happened.

My eyes glimpsed a cross set up along the gutter, a bouquet left at its base. I knew exactly who it was for.

When I was in fourth grade, Bethany, a little girl who went to the same school as me, was swallowed up by the gutter. Her father was the only one who witnessed the accident, and there’d been some suspicious circumstances — I don’t really remember, something about marital issues, custody, that sort of thing. Point was, everybody suspected him. But what proof did we have? The gutter never parts with its secrets.

Three years or so later, her dad just up and vanished, too. Nobody thought much of it, at first. Everyone assumed he got tired of the side-eyes and just skipped town. But then, months after everyone had forgotten the whole business, someone started sending around a voicemail he’d apparently sent out at three in the morning, the night he disappeared.

It’d apparently been sent to some random coworker from his contacts list. An accident, clearly. The first minute or two just consisted of the sort of rustling you’d expect from a pocket dial, so they hadn’t thought much of it. It hadn’t been until their curiosity drove them to investigate deeper that they realized they could hear the dad’s heavy, belabored breathing, and the sounds of twigs and leaves crackling beneath his feet, as if he were wandering through the middle of the woods.

Moreover, off in the distance, they could hear another voice. The faint voice of a little girl, bubbly and giggling, like they were playing a game. “Daddy?” The voice kept crying out into the night. “Daddy, where are you?” They noticed, too, that you couldn’t hear any crickets or birds or anything else you’d expect out in the forest at night. Everything was dead silent, like all the creatures of the woods sensed the presence of a predator.

The dad’s breathing grew heavier and more panicked whenever the voice grew louder, nearer, but it remained stifled, as if he was desperately trying to keep quiet, remain unnoticed. Eventually, she was so close that you could hear her little footsteps in the leaves, and the dad didn’t even dare to breathe. And then… the sound of branches being parted, the father’s gasp, and that little voice laughing and declaring in a sing-song tone, “Daaaddy, I fooound you!” And at that exact moment, the voicemail reached its time limit.

The cops’ official line was that it was a fake, just some audio doctored up by bored teenagers to feed into the sensationalized mythology of the Devil’s gutter. But Bethany’s remaining relatives swore up and down that they recognized that giggly little voice, that it was unmistakable.

Lost in thought, I blinked, and somehow, in that instant, a woman appeared in the middle of the road.

I ca...

---

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This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/QueenOfTheDead2023 on 2024-10-06 19:48:51+00:00.

---

Part 1

Part 2

So, things have been rather hectic through this investigation. We've had a few interesting conversations and gotten a few answers we've had so far in this investigation, but it hasn't lessened the fear and terror of our situation whatsoever. In fact, I'd say these answers have revealed that the situation is worse than we initially thought. But, I'm getting ahead of myself.

As I've mentioned before, since the incident with the shark cage the entire Amity crew has been seeing Bruce, occasionally showing his fin above water as if to let us know that he's still following us. What I didn't think to mention while I was typing that however was that, since the incident, Lawrence had surprisingly been rather quiet the past three days. Usually, even in serious situations and cases that he's stuck his nose in, the representative would always find a way to directly question my skills in the trade or spout some words about how my marriage is blasphemy or something along those lines. This time however, he had barely said a word to anyone on board and had been keeping to himself, almost always standing near the port and staring out at the water with a pale look on his face. It eventually got to the point where Dylan pulled out a bag of dice and passed out a pair of 6 sided dice to each of the twelve of us.

"Alright, I don't know about you folks but I'm getting worried about Larry," the older gentleman declared as he passed them out, "Instead of fighting among ourselves on who's gonna check on him, I reckon that we roll dice to decide who does. Highest roll will be the one to do it."

We each took turns rolling out our dice to see who would go talk to Lawrence. I was the only one who got an 11, causing me to mutter "Well fuck."

"Jamie, you're up," my Boss said with a pat on my shoulder, to which I stood up and began walking towards the port.

Lawrence acknowledged me as I reached him but remained silent for a while. Even now he was still staring out at the water, watching as Bruce's fin surfaced again. I stood there with him, unsure of what to say to him, and found myself watching Bruce along with him. It's then that I noticed something odd about the beast in question. Before I could only see it in bad weather and in deep water so I wasn't able to get a close look, but with the sky clear and the sun out I could make out what appeared to be burn scars on its fin and what I could see of its scales. They looked pretty bad, and rather old, as if Bruce had had them for years.

"You see them too, right?" Lawrence suddenly said, nearly startling me, and when I turned my attention to him he continued, "Those burn scars on its hide, I mean."

"Yeah, I do. Any guesses as to what might've caused them?" I asked rhetorically, not expecting an answer but was surprised to receive one.

"Oil, most likely," the representative replied solemnly, glancing over at me, "Seems like our 'friend' here found themselves caught up in an oil spill that likely involved plenty of fire. Unfortunately, I think I know which one."

"Oh?"

He was silent for a moment before he said, "Do you know why I've been acting the way I have? Force of habit unfortunately, one that I've actually been trying to break for years. You already know that I'm Catholic, but the truth is a lot more complicated than that. I didn't grow up here in Canada like you guys did, rather I was raised in a suburban area just on the outskirts of New Orleans in a very...extreme Evangelical sect. In fact I guess it should rather be referred to as a cult. I was pretty deep and brainwashed in it too, and trust me when I say I've said and done worse shit then everything I've said to you two combined, and I fucking hate it."

"Well, not something I expected to hear but alright," I said, comprehending what I've just been told and trying to figure out how to approach such information, "So...what changed?"

"I got a job outside of the neighbourhood back in March 2010," Lawrence replied, his eyes glazing over as if he was lost in memories, "I was a safety inspector for an oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico. My job on paper was to ensure that everything was secure and functional, but the cult had some influence on the rig, so I was occasionally paid extra to look the other way. I didn't care at the time since I was still under their thumb, but...well, I'm sure you can figure out exactly what happened one month later."

At first I wasn't sure what he was referring to, but it wasn't long before the details he gave clicked together and I said, "The oil rig you were on, it was the Deepwater Horizon wasn't it?"

"...Yeah, it was," he said as he pulled up his right sleeve, revealing a pattern of burn scars along his arm, "One minute, I was patrolling around to look for leaks. The next thing I knew, I was in the water, surrounded by burning oil. These scars will constantly remind me of why I can never go back to slacking off on my duties. What happened next was a blur, but I vaguely remember being rescued by someone or something and that they were seriously burned by the flames."

He turned towards me again and coldly said, "I've been trying to deny the existence of the supernatural for 14 years because I didn't want to accept the harm my negligence caused to the entity that saved me that day. But your very existence and the incident three days ago, not to mention Bruce being right in front of us has thrown that truth right back in my face. You wanna know why I've been silent? Because I've seen Bruce before, and I recognize those scars. Bruce is the thing that saved me, and all they got was horrible injuries and not even a thank you in turn. I..I don't know about you Jamie, but if I got injured saving someone and they didn't even come looking for me to thank me...I'd probably hate humanity too. It's likely my fault that this happened."

"Larry, you shouldn't blame yourself for a disaster like that," I cut in, alarmed that not only would he do such a thing, but that our Man Eater could be tied to a tragedy like the Deepwater Horizon, "You grew up under the influence of a cult, no one should be blaming someone for being influenced to not do their job by a group that's had them under their thumb for their whole life. Speaking of, what happened with the cult after the disaster?"

"Oh, those rats?" the representative scoffed in annoyance, "My parents only visited me once in the hospital with our leader once during my whole stay. They made it seemed like they cared for my well-being and that they were just giving me enough cash to pay for my bills and then some, but I'd been with them long enough to understand that they were really trying to buy my silence on the negligence onboard the rig. This opened my eyes and made me realise that the leader really didn't care about anyone within his church, to him we were nothing more than puppets. So, I took the money and later left an anonymous tip that helped expose the safety conditions on the rig. As for the cult themselves, their leader vanished into the night after the rest of the cult was arrested for something unrelated."

It took some more talking and coaxing, but eventually I was able to convince Lawrence to come back to where everyone else was. Soon we were planning what to do next, and eventually Matt would make a suggestion that, while simple, would not only change how I had thought of the bespectacled man, but would end up revealing just how serious this investigation actually was.

"I should see if my fiancee can come help out with identifying what we're dealing with," the news reporter declared, "I have my suspicions, but Tia works in the mythology section of our city's history museum, she'll certainly have a better perspective than me."

"You suspect this is some mythological beast that's stalking us?" Lawrence gruffly inquired, his eyebrows furrowed with interest.

Dylan turned to look at the representative as he replied, "Well, it sure as hell ain't a shark, let alone any marine life I've seen in my time sailing the seas. Hell, Blue Whales can't even reach the size of that thing."

"We can rule out any prehistoric animal, too," Ellen interjected without even looking up from her notes, "There's no known Plesiosaurs that look in any way similar to that, and there's no records of a Megalodon looking like that either, let alone reaching anywhere that size."

"Guess we have no choice," I noted calmly, and then turned to Matt and said, "If it helps our investigation, see how fast she can get here."

"Oh don't worry, she'll be here in no time," Matt chuckled as he walked away and pulled out his phone, "Let's just say you're not the only one who's a great swimmer."

His comment was quite confusing at the time, but it was only when Tia inevitably arrived that I understood what he meant. Ten minutes after Matt finished the call, the Amity rocked slightly as if to indicate we were being boarded. Soon after Matt approached us with a beautiful Chinese woman that...

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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/beef-broth21 on 2024-10-07 01:34:53+00:00.

---

As we drove down the highway, I watched as the sign for ‘Silver Lake Park’ came and went.

“There’s the sign! We’re almost there.” Georgia yelled, already starting to collect her items and put them back into her backpack.

She’d been urging all of us to plan a weekend camping trip for months, and after some pleading and convincing, we caved.

Georgia had always been the outdoorsy type. Having grown up out in the country, she was always gardening, camping and fishing. But after moving to the city for school, those activities were a little less accessible. She’d always told us stories of her and her family going camping – walking the trails, having campfires, swimming and fishing in the lakes and seeing all kinds of wild animals.

I always thought it sounded fun, I’d done some hiking and went camping once when I was little with my dad and brother. I enjoyed it, but it had been a while since. A couple of the other girls weren’t as enthused. Hailey and Mel were more or less indifferent, they’d never done anything like that before but seemed relatively interested to try.

Laura, on the other hand, couldn’t be less interested. She hated bugs, thought dirt was disgusting and became an absolute menace if she had to go more than a day without showering. I don’t mean to fall on stereotypes, but she fit the ticket when it came to your typical high-maintenance big-city-raised girl. She was confident, demanding and dramatic. But, despite her nose being too high in the air sometimes, she was an incredible friend. So incredible that in seeing how excited Georgia was about the trip (even though the thought of having to sleep in a tent made her nauseous) she agreed to come with us on the trip.

It was about a 2 hour drive from the city to the park we had booked our campsite at. Being students, I was the only one with a car. Naturally this left the driving to me. Georgia was in the passenger seat, yapping on about all the fun things ahead of us on our 3 day excursion. Throughout the drive I would catch the eye of Mel or Hailey in the rearview mirror and we’d give a little smile at each other, shaking our heads in amusement at Georgia’s enthusiastic ramblings. Laura was pretty quiet during the drive, but we could tell she was really trying to be excited.

Finally, we turned into the small parking lot.

We all stumbled out of the car, stretching our legs and gathering our packs. I volunteered to carry the tent with Georgia, since it was in a large cumbersome bag. We ended up getting one of those big 6-person tents. Mel grabbed the cooking supplies, Hailey carried the cooler with all of our drinks, and Laura was left to carry the food itself. Once everyone was situated with their gear and camping supplies, we locked up the car and made our way to the entrance to the trails.

There were five campsites in this area. We were booked in at Pine Flatts, about a 30 minute hike in from the parking lot. We double checked we had everything, and entered into the shaded trail.

There was a main trail that began at the parking lot that eventually branched off to lead to each campsite. The trails were well kept, but relatively narrow, so we had to hike in a single file line. Georgia led, obviously, then it was me, then Mel, then Hailey, and Laura at the end. We chatted and played music as we navigated the trails to our campsite.

About 20 minutes in, we started hearing some complaints from the back of the line. Laura was slowing down, mumbling something under her breath. Hailey had turned to ask her if she was okay, but Laura kind of brushed her off, saying that her feet were starting to hurt and she felt a blister pop on her heel. Hailey assured her we were almost at the site, and we kept moving.

It wasn’t even noon and it was already a scorching hot day. The trees around the trail provided some relief from the sun, but the hot and humid air was inescapable. After a few more minutes of walking, Georgia turned and called back to us, almost as if she could sense how uncomfortable we all were, that there was a lake right beside our campsite. This was enough motivation for us to pick up the pace.

We came to a small bridge that crossed a mid-sized pond. As we reached the other side, we heard some rustling in the brush beside us. I glanced over, expecting to see a rabbit or even a deer, but instead I saw Laura climbing down the bank towards the pond.

I stopped, effectively halting Mel and Hailey as well.

“Laura, what are you doing?” I called out to her.

“My feet are on fire, and this stupid blister popped. It’s bleeding a bit and hurts like a bitch. I’m just gonna rinse them in the pond super quick and cool them off!” She yelled back.

Georgia quickly squeezed past me on the trail, approaching the bank.

“Laura I wouldn’t do that, stagnant pond water is really gross. There could be a lot of bacteria and stuff in there. We’re close to the campsite, just wait like 5 more minutes and we can all go swimming in the lake!” she said.

“I’ll be like 2 seconds! Plus, this water looks, like, crystal clear.” Laura said back.

I peered over the bank and realised she was right. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a pond so clear. Although, there was an almost orange tinge to the water.

“You guys keep walking, I’ll catch up!” She said.

“A-Alright, don’t be too long.” Georgia stuttered. We continued walking.

Shortly after, we reached the campsite and began getting our things set up while we waited for Laura. Georgia and I were on tent duty, and Mel and Hailey were getting the cooking supplies organised. Eventually, Laura came waltzing into camp and we all got changed to go swimming.

The rest of the day was actually really fun. We swam for most of the afternoon, and did some sun tanning on the little sand beach. We finished setting up camp and snacked on some jerky and trail mix.

Once the sun started to set, we began making a fire to cook dinner – a gourmet meal of hot dogs and corn on the cob. We were all buzzing around the fire, getting food and drinks and talking about what we wanted to do the next day. We noticed Laura was being really quiet, kind of staring blankly into the fire.

“Laura, you good?” Mel asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just really tired.” She said lazily, without looking up from the fire.

“Okay, well, let us know if we can get you anything.” Georgia added.

Laura nodded her head.

The rest of us continued on drinking and talking.

A couple hours later, we thought it would be fun to go night swimming at the lake. We all got changed and asked Laura if she wanted to join us.

“No, I’m gonna go to bed.” Laura said, rather flatly. As she said this, she stood up and turned to face us more. Honestly, I was a little taken aback. Maybe it was just the shadow from the fire, but she looked pale and almost gaunt.

“Shit Laura, are you sure you’re okay?” I asked.

“Yes Sophia, I’m fine. I’m just tired, okay?!” She snapped back. She had a strange sharpness in her eyes.

“O-Okay, well, we’ll be at the lake if you need anything.” I replied, cautiously.

Laura didn’t say anything and just turned and walked towards the tent.

We all looked at each other, concerned, but thought it best that we give her space. She could be a bit of a diva sometimes, but rarely would she snap at us like that. We just assumed it was a mix of a long day in the sun, the fact that she probably wanted to be anywhere else but out here, and maybe a bad hot dog or two.

We made our way to the lake and swam for another couple hours, then walked back to camp and got ready to go to sleep. We were all very careful to move quietly in the tent, as to not wake Laura. She was sleeping on the far side of the tent, facing the wall. She didn’t move or say anything, so it seemed she was out cold. Soon enough, so were the rest of us.

I’m not sure what time I woke up, but it was still pitch black out. Some kind of noise broke me out of my dream. It sounded like a yell or a grunt, but I couldn’t place exactly what it was. I sat up on my elbows and squinted around the tent, trying to get my eyes to adjust.

The sleeping arrangements went myself, Georgia, Mel, Hailey, then Laura at the far side. As my eyes adjusted, I noticed that Laura and Hailey were gone. They must have gone to the bathroom, maybe one of them tripped or saw an animal or something. I laid back down and closed my eyes.

But I couldn’t get back to sleep. Something was stirring in the back of my mind. A bad feeling. But, why?

Several minutes later, I heard the tent unzip and footsteps stepping back over to the far side of the tent. The concerning part was, I only heard one set of footsteps. I looked over, without sitting up, and saw a figure climbing back into their sleeping bag. But was that Hailey or Laura? I was about to say something, but realised whoever hadn’t returned was probably still using the bathroom and would be back soon. I settled myself, closed my eyes again, and fell asleep.

A little while later, I was startled awake by a hand on my arm. I jumped and my eyes darted around, soon landing on Georgia.

“I gotta go to the bathroom, can you come with me?” She whispered.

I mumbled back, still half asleep, and realised I needed to go as well.

We tiptoed out of the tent and made our way into the trees, grabbing our jackets and flashlights from our packs on the way.

We stepped through the forest, careful to watch for rocks and roots in the ground. After a couple minutes, we got to the old outhouse. I told Georgia sh...

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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/11velociraptors on 2024-10-07 03:29:49+00:00.

---

A few weeks ago, I rented a cabin near Pitkin County, Colorado for a weekend getaway with my wife and daughter. For their privacy, I'll refer to my wife as Elena, and my daughter, who's between four and eight years old, as Sofia. It was dusk by the time we arrived at the cabin—far later than Elena and I had planned. The afternoon's anticipation gone, the promise of a relaxing vacation already sullied, and my back sore from changing the tire which had been eviscerated by the forest road, the mood was thoroughly ruined. Maybe that should have been an indication as to how the rest of the trip would go.

The cabin itself was beautiful and rustic. Nestled among the towering pines, the two-story building blended into the surrounding woodlands with its dark-stained wooden siding and stone chimney. Large windows glistened with the last light of day, and the wrap-around porch boasted a hanging patio swing, much to Sofia's delight. She ran straight for it and started swinging as Elena and I carried the bags inside. 

When I unlocked the door and turned on the lights, I found myself surprised by the decor. In stark contrast to the classy, almost minimalist exterior of the cabin, the interior was remarkably cluttered. It was like every square surface (countertops, bookshelves, tables, etc.) was covered in little trinkets. "Tchotchkes" as my mother would've called them. There were coasters, candles, vintage oil-lamps and compasses, and a bunch of wooden animal carvings, each about a foot tall. The interior wasn't dirty by any means, just more crowded than expected. I found it charming in a weird way, though Elena was less fond. I remember her taking a long look at the place and saying "interesting", which is her code for "I don't like what I'm seeing but I also don't want to make a big deal about it." 

It was past Sofia's bedtime, so after coaxing her off of the porch swing, I helped her get set up for the night. There were two bedrooms on the second floor; a master suite with an attached bathroom, and a smaller bedroom that was pretty clearly set up as a kids room for visitors to the cabin. The cabin was specifically advertised as family friendly and good for parents with younger children, so it was no surprise when the smaller bedroom was full of colorful toys and plushies. There was a fireplace across from the bed, its mantle showcasing a full set of those wooden animal carvings—one moose, one bear, one trout, and so on. There was also one particularly large teddy bear sitting on the bed, partially buried under the covers like it was getting ready for bed. Sofia instantly fell in love, and I thought it was sweet that the cabin's owner had gone the extra mile to make the place welcoming. I didn't love the idea of her cuddling it to sleep though, since it likely hadn't been washed between visits, so I propped it up on a chair next to the bed before tucking Sofia in for the night. Tired from our travels, Elena and I went to sleep not too long afterwards. 

Saturday was our designated lake day. After making breakfast and waking up Sofia, who had to be convinced not to take her new best friend "Mr. Bear" out on the water with us, we grabbed the kayaks off of our roof rack and headed down to the shore. 

We were a short walk from the lake and I was absolutely blown away by the natural splendor. Our cabin was semi-isolated: remote enough to give my family peace and privacy, but close enough to civilization that we could easily access help in case of an emergency. We were a five minute drive into town and a five minute walk to the nearest neighboring cabin, which we passed on the way to the lake. It was a gorgeous building, far more intricate and seemingly much older than the one we were renting. There was an older woman sitting on the porch as we passed it by, and although I couldn't wave since both hands were full with the kayaks, I gave her a nod and a friendly smile. She stared at me in response, her expression completely blank. She was looking directly at me, but almost looked like she was in a trance or something.

"What was that all about?" I quietly asked Elena once we were out of earshot. 

"Not sure," my wife answered. "She looks pretty settled in there. Maybe that's her home and she doesn't appreciate her neighbor running an Airbnb." 

That seemed a logical explanation. I stole a quick glance over my shoulder before the house completely disappeared behind us, and saw that the woman was now walking down the steps of her front porch, her gaze still fixed on us. Elena and I exchanged worried looks and picked up the pace a little, Sofia running along ahead of us, joyful and oblivious. Once we reached the shore, we hopped into the kayaks and pushed off into the water. We weren't exactly running away from the woman, it was more so that we wanted to avoid a confrontation if we could. As we started paddling out into the lake, the woman appeared at the treeline, but never came any closer. I gave her a wave, and again, she gave me no response but a glower. It occurred to me that she might've been trying to warn us about the lake, maybe about a current or algal bloom, but I'd researched the area extensively to make sure it was safe, and her demeanor wasn't quite urgent or benevolent enough for that to be the case. 

The rest of the day was thankfully devoid of any more strange encounters. After a calm day of swimming and hiking, we returned to the cabin in the evening for dinner and s'mores. Sofia brought Mr. Bear outside to "help" with the s'mores, to mine and Elena's amusement. We had no idea how we would convince her to leave the stuffed animal behind when we left on Monday night. After we put Sofia to sleep at 8 pm, Elena and I watched a movie, had a drink, and then went to sleep at 10:30 or so.

At midnight, according to my phone clock, I heard what sounded like a knock. I sat up in bed, checked the time, and listened for a minute. A few seconds passed, and then there came three knocks in quick succession. I gently shook Elena awake, waiting to hear the sound again, and after a moment, I did. There was someone at the front door of the cabin in the middle of the night. Concerned, I got out of bed and tried to look out the bedroom window. I could only see a sliver of the front porch, and though I couldn't see an actual person, I could see the shadow of one thanks to the porch lights. 

Needless to say, I wasn't thrilled to have a stranger pay our isolated cabin a midnight visit. I told Elena to stay upstairs and made my way to the first floor, stopping by the living room to pull back the curtains ever so slightly and peer through the window. Still, given the shape of the house and the placement of the windows, it was impossible to see anything but a shadow. The person must have been standing an inch away from the front door. I scanned the front yard and the distant treeline, but didn't see anyone else, so a decoy/ambush situation seemed unlikely, but I still grabbed my handgun just in case. 

Just my luck—the old front door of the house didn't have a peephole, so I got up close to the door and tried talking to the person on the other end. 

"Can I help you?" I said. Instead of answering, the person knocked again, this time more urgently. No way in hell was I opening that door now. 

"Look, friend, if you need help you better speak up, otherwise I'm gonna have to ask you to get off my damn porch before I call the police." 

The knocking stopped, and after a moment, there was a woman's voice on the other side of the door. Her tone was nervous and her voice was soft. She said a single sentence: 

"He's watching your daughter through the bear." 

Of all the things I expected to hear from our unwelcome visitor, that was not one of them. I readied my gun and cracked the door open. When I looked out into the night, I saw the elderly woman from earlier quickly shambling away from my door. Her back was turned towards me and she looked like she was trying to get away from my porch as quickly as she could. I called after her, asking her what she was talking about, but she didn't look back. She just kept going until the night swallowed her up completely. 

I was pretty disturbed at this point, so I shut and locked the door and made my way back upstairs. Elena was waiting for me at the top of the stairs, and I quietly explained to her what was going on. Horrified, she went into Sofia's room and gently took the teddy bear out of our sleeping daughter's arms. We went downstairs and laid the bear out on the kitchen counter. I grabbed a pair of kitchen shears and dissected the thing, making an incision in its fluffy body and pulling out its cotton innards. It wasn't that I believed the old woman, just that as a parent, anything related to my kid's safety, even something that sounds outlandish, is something I take seriously. Even though the woman was likely suffering from some kind of cognitive impairment, I still wanted to investigate. I pulled all of the stuffing out of Mr. Bear and found nothing, though Elena pointed out that the bear had two very large glass eyes which could potentially be concealing a small camera. I was unable to find a hammer, but I did find a wrench under the kitchen sink. I wrapped the eyes in a kitchen towel and smashed them to bits, but when I sorted through the fragments, I didn't see anything that looked like a recording device. 

I was relieved, but I was also equal parts creeped out and...

---

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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/BadandyTheRed on 2024-10-07 03:00:49+00:00.

---

Part 1. Part 2.

All I knew about the next emergency was it was called in after the fact and it was some sort of assault that left a woman almost dead in a bathroom at the rest stop near exit 112 near the interstate. The call ended earlier than usual and I hoped this was not going to be a recurring thing, I barely had time to get that information. I was going to have to stop some sort of attack around the woman's rest room, waiting however long it takes for the would-be attacker and victim to show.

Easy right?

With more time to prepare for this one, I knew I would need to get some supplies. I went to a nearby Walmart and picked up some stakeout equipment. I bought some binoculars and some rope and zip ties in case I could catch the attacker and restrain him. I wanted to try and get a shotgun or something but carrying that around near a public rest stop would draw too much attention so I settled for a short range taser and a hammer for a backup weapon. I had no expectation of what would happen but if this person was violent as the call implied, I would need to be prepared for a confrontation.

With my supplies in hand, I reviewed my plan. I had received the call around four in the afternoon so I knew I had to get there well before then. As for what to do when I got there, I did not know, too few details on what happened specifically. I would have to get there early and wing it and hopefully save that woman. Perhaps just being there might act as a deterrent.

I spent the rest of the night trying to research the victims and see if there was any connection between them. I had no idea if there was, but something about those odd texts from M made me think they might be less random than I first thought. I created a makeshift conspiracy board, complete with different colored threads to link people and things together. Despite how crazy I felt when looking at the web of random people and events, I shrugged and set about the task of making sense of as much as I could while I had time.

I looked up any news from the car accident today, I checked the closest hospital and found out that a cyclist was brought in from a reported hit and run by the name of Calvin Thomas. He had arrived by ambulance but he did not survive. I felt the weight of guilt again, I know I was not at fault, but I had known it would happen and my efforts to stop anyone from getting hurt had failed. I tried to ignore the nagging feeling of despair and focus on my research. I considered the name, fairly common last name. Though with my mind searching for connections I thought that maybe, he might be related to the woman who called about tomorrows accident. She said her name was Stacy Thomas. It could be true, but I was not sure. I might be making connections where there are none to try and make sense of it all.

I could not find out much about Kendra Wallace, from the first call. The news had covered the violent stabbing and carjacking of her boyfriend one Mr. Michael Duncan. The only thing I found about him besides the news of the crime itself, was a staff public disclosure request for an odd research firm known as “Hope for the future”. His name showed up as an employee of the firm, but I was not able to glean many details about what sort of work they did or anything else.

Whoever this M was, he clearly had some kind of control over how and when these things happened. Otherwise, how would he know about them as soon as they occurred? How the hell he could send me those text messages right after they happened, on this time manipulating phone? Maybe he knew about them because he was the one causing them in the first place? I never got to see the man in black who carjacked that couple and stabbed the man from the first call. He could still be driving the car he stole, the same car he was driving when he killed that cyclist in place of the family. I considered he may even be parked at the rest stop tomorrow somewhere, waiting for another victim to come by. Based on the taunting messages, he would also be waiting for me and whatever it was he expected me to do.

It seemed like it was some sick game and he was using some impossible time manipulation skill to predict the future as a means of messing with or testing people. Those messages he sends, they all read like this is some sort of test that he is giving me and that I have to meet some expected outcome that only he knows about. I felt like I was walking into a trap or some unwinnable situation, yet I knew if I did nothing then the tragedies would really happen.

I slept poorly that night and had dreams of failing to rescue the people who had called for help. I saw the faces of the people I had already failed, the men who died already because I couldn't find a way to save them.

I ended up oversleeping and it was nearly ten in the morning. I had to get going, I had no idea how long the woman was stuck in there before she was discovered. I grabbed my bag of supplies and started on my way to the highway and then to the rest stop by exit 112.

I arrived early in the morning and parked near the men's restroom. I was close enough to the woman's to scout any movement in or out of it with my binoculars. Despite my good intentions I knew how it might look, so I also picked up a newspaper as well, not to read it, but more as a cover in case someone looked too closely and saw me sitting in a car with binoculars trained on the woman's restroom. I did not want to attract notice and throw the whole plan off; I had no idea what might happen if I scared the attacker away by some incidental force. Maybe he would attack someone else? Maybe it would be even worse than just one person? I didn't know but I would not risk it.

A few hours past and it was noon already. The rest stop was not very busy and few cars actually stopped in the hours I had been waiting. I figured that was a good thing since it would be easier to notice anything amiss. I kept my broken phone close at hand in case I received another emergency call while waiting like before.

At around three o’clock I saw a white sedan drive up and park. A well dressed and fairly attractive woman got out and went in by herself. I was on high alert as I knew it was within an hour of the calls time. My paranoia was vindicated when a moment later I looked and saw a tall figure dressed in dark clothes sneaking quickly to the entrance. He put down a sign that said “Out of order” and appeared to enter the restroom.

I nearly tripped over my own feet scrambling to get out of the car and gather up my gear. I had the taser in hand and the hammer in my pocket. I rushed to the restroom and did not hear anything inside yet. I knew I did not have time to think it over and I rushed headlong through the door. I looked left and right and did not see the figure in black anywhere. As I stood there in confusion, I saw a stall door open and the woman step out. Leaving her stall and seeing me standing there holding a taser looking all around the woman's restroom she very quickly loosed an understandable scream. I realized immediately how it looked and I held up my hands and offered a prompt,

“Sorry, sorry, sorry I am so sorry I thought someone came in here and I was trying to stop them myself. I promise I am not here for you, or rather not here to do anything bad at least, I mean.” I was cut off from my apologetic rambling by a stiff shot to the back of my head. My eyes darkened but I managed to retain consciousness as I fumbled on the ground, dropping the taser and hearing it slid away from where I lay prone on the floor.

The woman screamed again as I heard heavy footsteps and looked up to see a large man blocking the exit. I thought I heard an amused chuckle as he kicked me in the ribs so hard I thought I would vomit them up. As I writhed on the ground, he took a step toward the woman and she fell back trying to retain her composure but clearly confused and terrified of what she was seeing. I saw the feet of my attacker walk past me; he did not speak but I knew what would happen if I didn't do anything. As he stomped forward menacingly toward the woman, I mustered up enough strength to grab the hammer from my pocket, push myself up enough to a crouched position and swing hard for his legs. I was rewarded with a satisfying crack and I made contact with his ankle and I hoped I had broken it. There was a muffled cry of pain that almost sounded like a scream being put through a static filter and run at ½ speed. The man in black crumpled to the floor to join me. The woman looked like she was going to try and intercede on my behalf but the man produced a large knife and when I saw the gleam of the blade, I shouted to her to,

“Run!” She used the opportunity and leaped over us and out of there.

I heard frantic cries for 911 outside and then distressed screaming about how they were not answering. She was clearly trying to call for help but was unable to get a call out. I saw the man turn to face me and he wore a black face mask as well as clothes. The mask was disturbing, it had n...

---

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This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/TheBatBelfry on 2024-10-07 01:20:21+00:00.

---

Never in my life did I imagine having such a job as this. Yet here I was.

I found a job listing for a company called BELL: Home Security & Surveillance. With paid training.

Bills were stacking up and I wasn't getting any replies so I filled out an application. Received an email almost instantly telling me I got the job.

"No interview?" I thought.

A document contract was attached to the email. A DMCA. The email read that I got the job and to keep it, I had to sign the contract and essentially promise not to speak or share details of my training and position.

I was in no position to argue or complain so I signed. Didn't even read the entire contract which I know I should have.

Come October 1st, it was time for my big first day. I was asked to arrive around 9pm. Seemed like I would have the graveyard shift.

I put the address on my GPS but nothing came up. I searched it up and nothing. As I was about to email the company, my GPS automatically refreshed and started giving directions.

I was puzzled but paid it no mind. Didn't want to be late on my first day. I started the engine and drove off.

The office building lied far from the city in the outskirts. Deep, and I mean deep into the vast woods.

A road veered off from the highway which I had to take to get there. I drove across this bridge over a small river and finally arrived at my destination.

The building had a weird shape to it unlike anything I seen. Instead of your usual boxy structure, the building was tilted as if about to fall over. No windows or doors were visible. Just white walls without a single speck of dirt or dust.

I left my car at the parking lot before the building and got out. I approached the wall which suddenly slid open. A man in a black tuxedo greeted me, "Mr. James Morgan! Welcome to Bell. We're happy to have you."

"I'm happy to be here." I shook his hand and followed him inside.

We walked down various empty halls with no rooms in site. I remember looking up to see the walls reach for the sky with no ceiling in site.

The man stopped at a corner and pressed his hand against the wall which slid open like the entrance.

Inside was a small office complete with a desk, computer and three chairs. Cabinets and drawers were stacked with papers.

"Please Mr. Morgan take a seat."

I took the closest seat as he took the one behind the desk.

"Mr. Morgan. Here at BELL: Home Security & Surveillance, we take our job graciously in ensuring safety to our customers from all dangers."

I just nodded as he went along.

"Dangers come in many forms. Theft. Break-in. But we specifically specialize in a very specific kind of danger."

"What kind of danger?"

"Tell me Mr. Morgan. Do you believe in ghosts?"

Lost for words, I wasn't sure how to respond. I mean, how do you respond to such a question in such an out of place scenario.

"I'm an open-minded person. I see what I believe."

"Do you know why the company's name and logo is a bell?"

"No."

"It's named after the Bell family. A religious family that lived in a church. With a notable bell tower."

He retrieved an old photo from the cabinet behind him and placed it on the desk.

"They were known for ringing the bell everytime danger appeared. To alert the town not from any invading armies but. From witches."

Taken aback from his words I glanced down at the photo to find an old family from the 1800s holding pitchforks and torches.

"That's where it began. And we have continued their legacy ever since."

"Wait. You're a home security company that. That warns people about ghosts?!"

"We wait for a sign of paranormal activity. Thoroughly investigate it from here, using the cameras and sensors. If needed, we also use our hidden drones to properly scout the place."

He returned the photo to the cabinet and continued.

"If a creature or otherworldly entity poses a threat. We immediately send a list of instructions to our client that share just enough details to know what type of entity is in their house and what to do."

He leaned back on his chair and held his hands together.

"As our friends back here guide the client to safety, a team is dispatched to that location to deal with the entity. They then have three options: capture the entity, neutralize it, or eliminate it."

"So you're ghost hunters."

"We're no different than any other home security organization. We just take it a little further."

Unreal I thought. A dream. If not then what.

"Okay. So what am I gonna do exactly?"

"You'll be part of the team that deals with the entities directly. That's where the paid training comes into play."

He stands up and waves me towards the door.

"After you."

We left his office and headed further into the hallways. Eventually coming across a locker room near a giant garage.

A guy in a black uniform stepped out, "James Morgan I take it?"

I shaked his hand, "Pleasure to meet you."

"The name's Michael. Michael Waters. And the pleasure is all mine."

A little bell was pinned to his shirt along with a name tag, "Let's get you into one of these shall we."

I nodded my head and turned to find the previous man now gone. Didn't recall hearing his footsteps either.

In the locker room, I was handed a black t-shirt and pants. A belt with a few pouches for storing stuff, and a little bell and nametag.

"Nervous?" Michael asked.

"Are we really ghost hunters or was that man just messing with me?"

"What man?"

"The man. The guy in the tuxedo that walked me over here. He was standing right next to me."

"Oh I see. Don't worry. Nobody could see the woman that hired me either."

Michael began loading equipment onto a black van with a satellite on top. A giant yellow bell on its' side, "Really pushes the little theory me and my folks got going on."

"And what's that?"

"The company is run by ghosts."

"Good ghosts hunting bad ghosts?"

"Or something else and probably much worse. Yeah we help people. But I think it's all theatrics."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Ghosts or not. You need money to get your resources. So they pose as a home security company. Help people on the side who then talk about the great, wonderful customer service we provide. Refer their friends and families."

"Pretend to be the good guys so people pay them to do what they only care about?"

"Yes. Not everytime though. Some of my folks were told to purposefully leave customers in danger and fend for themselves. Can't sell home security if all homes are safe, y'know."

It was a lot to take in. I was ready to just leave and pretend this was just a bad dream but I guess Michael took notice, "I wouldn't leave. It's too late now."

"Too late?"

"I don't know what happens when you leave. I do know that everyone that quits or walks out is never seen from again."

I froze in place. Did Michael just threaten me?

"Had a good friend. He applied for this job despite my disagreement. You see, they find us losers who are stuck in debt. People that can't find a job. Promise us a huge paycheck. They do pay us."

He placed a container into the van and shut the doors, "But when my friend decided he had enough. He walked out and couldn't find him anywhere. Never went home. Nobody's seen him."

Michael takes the keys from the wall and heads towards the front of the van. I reluctantly stepped into the passenger seat as he took the driver's.

"We're in this together now, James. I got your back if you got mines."

I sighed, accepting my fate. Michael started the van and we drove off.

We were driving along the highway when a female voice came over the radio, "Agents Waters and Morgan. Possible Level 4 Entity detected."

"Level 4 Entity?"

"An entity that can be dealt with or handled."

"What about the other levels?"

"A Level 5 Entity can be left alone. A Level 4 Entity can only be left alone under surveillance. Level 3 is an entity that must be dealt with right away. Level 2 is an entity that has a very specific way of dealing with. Level 1 is an entity that is out of our control."

"What levels are more frequent?"

"Level 4 is the most common. I haven't been called to deal with any entities above them."

We finally arrived at the address the female voice sent us and parked the van upfront. Michael got out of the car and walked up to the house. I followed behind.

He handed me an earpiece as he placed another in his ear. "It's so Sharon can communicate with us."

"Sharon?"

"The lady in the radio."

"Oh."

Michael was about to knock on the door when we heard Sharon again. "The client has vacated the premises. Proceed to enter."

He carefully pushed the door open and stepped inside. I walked in after him and looked around the dark living room.

I was ready to try the switch but Michael stopped me. "Even something as simple as the light turning on could upset or trigger these things. Best to leave it alone for now."

He pulled out a tablet from the bag he was carrying and switched it on. It glowed a blue hue, bright enough to see the screen and nothing else.

"What are you doing?"

"Just getting ready to gather some information."

I glanced around and waited to see any sort of sign that a ghost was present. Nothing.

"Sharon, can you tell us what you got?"

"Affirmative. Level 4 Entity detected at 22:41 hours. Subject has the appearance of a female, 11 years in age. Subject is currently upstairs on the first bedroom to the right."

"Well do."

I followed Michael upstairs to the mentioned room. When we entered, we did indeed find the girl Sharon talked about. ...

---

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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Aggravating_Road2692 on 2024-10-06 22:06:13+00:00.

---

I landed a new job a few weeks ago as the director of a psychiatric facility. My patients are mostly okay, but my co-workers are freaking me out. I interviewed with this gentleman from the state (the director of the state's Department of Health and Welfare), while he was kind, he was also very blunt. He informed me that no one was willing to take the job, so by default, he was giving it to me, the only willing applicant who met the minimum educational requirements. For anyone else, this candor would've been a gut punch, but for me, it was a God send. No one seemed to want to hire me, and suddenly I had an offer. I happily accepted; a decision I've come to regret.

Today was my first day. I walked through the security screening and the guards made me hand over my cell phone. When I moved to question the reasoning, the guards simply pointed at a sign that read:

'This is a closed facility, there are no cell phones nor other outside communication devices allowed within the building.'

As I walked into the hospital I was greeted by the janitor. A middle-aged man who seemed to be in the early stages of Parkinson's, tremors visibly afflicted his hands. I wish I could say the man welcomed me warmly but he looked at me like I was nothing more than an annoyance.

"I'll show you to your office." He grunted out frustratingly. I followed him down this long corridor, all the while the many keys clipped to his belt loop chimed through the halls, garnering the attention of everyone we passed. The patients minded their own business, for the most part, but the staff all gave me the meanest of scowls. If I didn't know better, it seemed like they hated me already. The stroll to my new office gave me a chance to get a feel for the place, and sad to say, I was not impressed. The facility was in shambles, it was run down, and unsanitary. Rats feasted in any and all open trash cans, the patients looked as if they haven't been bathed in days, and some even took the liberty to shit freely in the halls. As you can imagine the smell was horrific. But the most horrific aspect of the building was that I couldn't shake the feeling that everyone was watching me.

One man, in particular, caught my eye, an older gentleman, who wore a tattered hospital gown. The only patient who seemed to share the same arbitrary hatred towards me.

We reached a door that still bore the name of my predecessor, Dr. Richardson. Fidgeting with his keys, the janitor plucked one and inserted it into the doorknob, swinging the door wide open and promptly turning around to leave. I tried showing my gratitude, but he simply returned a,

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." The sound from his keys grew fainter as he traveled farther down the hall.

The perimeter of my office was surrounded by file cabinets, and an old outdated computer and a landline phone sat on the mostly empty desk.

In the center of the flat top, sat a lone piece of paper.

The paper's header read:

'[MUST READ] Important information regarding several of the patients at the facility.'

Dr. Richardson left me some guidance.

This was a kind gesture, and I was grateful for the last psychologist's foresight. No one likes to be dropped into the deep end.

The note started off by detailing basic facility rules. Then it conveyed several tidbits about notable patients, though the note did not say anything about the relevant files being heavily redacted as I'd soon come to find.

'Patient 106 suffers from extreme schizophrenia. Do not assume she can be transferred to a less vigilant wing of the facility solely because she appears to be improving, she is crafty and will take advantage of any breathing room you give her; She will harm herself and others if given a chance.'

I couldn't help but pull this patient's file as I read this passage. Inside should've been a complete medical history of the patient in question, but besides a brief physical description (Age: 42, Gender: Female, height: 5'1, black hair), the rest of the documentation was made unreadable by streaking black ink. However, what wasn't redacted confirmed the information given by my predecessor's note.

'Patient 143 is in a near-constant state of catatosis, with emphasis on the near! He will briefly snap out of his trance if you give him your back. Do not let him sneak up behind you!'

In his file:

'(Age: 28, Gender: Male, Height: 5'10, bold)

The patient suffers from a near state of catatosis with brief bouts of extreme violent episodes.' The rest of the file was redacted in the same black ink as the last.

The patient list was long but as I neared the end, Another large bold heading caught my attention.

'[Do not skip!] Information on patient 151!'

The section was written completely in bold letters, ensuring that the instructions popped against the white paper.

'This patient is the most dangerous in our facility, you will find out more about him in his file, but to ensure the safety of yourself and everyone else, you must follow these rules.

1. Avoid looking at patient 151, he doesn't like it.
2. Do not acknowledge his presence when he creeps around you.
3. Do not say his identification number out loud.
4. Do not mention Dr. Richardson's name (My name) around him.

Follow these rules to the letter and 151 will not make your life difficult. As you can see from the heavy security, this facility operates cautiously. The information within this note is for you and you alone. Do not share it with anyone. I wish you the best of luck with your new position. Best Regards, Dr. Richardson.'

I leaned back against my chair, digesting the information the doctor had given me before the need to pull 151's file overtook me. The manilla folder was buried at the far end of a file cabinet. When I opened it, surprise, surprise, heavily redacted.

'Name: [Black ink redaction]

(Age: 71, Height: 5'3, Hair: Grey)

151 has a history of strong delirium. Along with countless other conditions that amplify his delusions.

'This patient has an extremely violent history and has admitted to a long list of crimes. The patient is self-admitted, but there is doubt that he will ever leave the care of the state. Authorities have been made aware of his confessions (as state law demands). His condition continues to worsen, but for now, we can only await a court order for his transfer to a better-equipped mental hospital.

Note: no matter what we try the patient manages to escape confinement. Follow the rules regarding this patient, and no incidences should occur.'

In the back of the file was the only image included with any of the documentation. A simple black-and-white picture of an old man. His face was wrinkled, his skin drooping off of his bones, and his eyes had an aura of sadness to them. It felt almost hypnotic to gaze into his grey eyes like they were trying to tell me something, drawing me closer the longer I stared.

Suddenly, I heard the pitter-patter of bare feet on laminate flooring. In the doorway crested a man's grey main. It was the patient who had been watching me from the second I first walked into the facility. It was as if the man knew I was thinking about him. I looked down at the picture in my hand and back up at the man, finding that the two were the same person, though not exactly identical.

The eyes of the man before me did not radiate sadness like the ones in picture, they gave off curiosity. Not to mention that it seemed like his orbs had grown since the last time the photo was taken, doubling in size. They now struggled to fit in his eye sockets, they bulged and slanted slightly.

His mouth had also changed. Its edges had migrated outwards and now finished in the middle of his cheeks. The man's lips began to part, and he showed me his wide toothless smile. In all my life I had never seen a face as distinct as his.

I must've stared a second too long because his brows furled, and he produced an ear-piercing screech from the depths of his chest. It was so high-pitched that my ears yawned. I instantly remembered the instructions in the note.

1. Avoid looking at patient 151, he doesn't like it.
2. Do not acknowledge his presence when he creeps around you.

I instantly averted my eyes, looking at the blank wall, but it was too late. The man wasn't pleased. He started taking a few awkward dragging steps towards my desk until his thighs brushed up against the hard mahogany of my flattop. With one swift motion, he propelled himself off of the ground, feet landing on the desk in front of me. He perched himself in a very animal-like position, sitting on his calves and arms between his legs. He inched his face toward mine. I felt my heart race and a lump began to form in my throat. I was glued to my chair in fear.

His mouth opened, tongue slithered out, oozing in secretions, but just as it was about to slide across the side of my face, the sound of steps again the floor billowed into my office. 151 instantly darted out of the room.

When he'd rounded the door frame, another figure appeared on the other side. The situation with 151 had made me very uneasy, and I couldn't help but jolt as the woman came into view. She was a nurse, her embroidered scrubs reading, Jenny. As the woman suddenly entered the room, she apologized.

"Oh-- I'm sorry Dr. Clarence. I didn't mean to scare you." She said. Just then I remembered my predecessor's guidance, this note is for your eyes and your eyes only. I hi...

---

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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Wild-Tea-9242 on 2024-10-06 20:32:03+00:00.

---

When I was 11 years old, my life was a lot more bleak than it is now. This happened in the early 2000’s. After my dad left my mom and wanted nothing to do with our family, my mom spiraled into alcoholism and spent most of her time at the bottom of a bottle when she wasn't at work. It's a story I'm sure a lot of people can relate to, losing a parent to addiction, and depression. We were poor, she could barely afford my school lunch and would shove the whole week's worth in my hands when she got her check to prevent herself from spontaneously blowing it on cigarettes and beer.

I had to learn to be more self-sufficient, cooking my own meals and doing my own laundry. A lot of the times, that included taking myself home after school. It was mom's responsibility to pick me up from school since a school bus didn't go to our district of the city. Usually, she did, concerningly either a little tipsy or with a pounding hangover, but sometimes she would be too deep in a drunken stupor or dead asleep after a long day at the club partying like the 20-something she wasn't.

Whenever this happened, I took the public bus home to our little inner city apartment. This was another one of those days. I was standing outside the school building at the end of the day and watching the students pile into the bright yellow buses or their parents’ cars before being driven away. Eventually, the teachers left too, except for Mrs. Hartman, my sweet Spanish teacher who I could tell was absolutely sick of my mother forgetting me. I still remember the gray, overcast sky which reflected my mood at the time.

“I'm just gonna take the bus.” I finally told her with a sigh.

“Well, if you don't mind me taking a few stops on the way there to pick up my kids from daycare and finish some errands, I can take you home, Liv.” Mrs. Hartman smiled at me. “We don't mind, right Sydney?”

I glanced over at her daughter who was my age, and she shot me a mean side eye before continuing to play her Nintendo DS while sitting in the shade. Sydney was Mrs. Hartman's bratty daughter who didn't like me for some stupid reason. Mrs. Hartman was a lovely woman but also a bit naive and ditzy, so she didn’t quite realize that her kid was one of the mean popular girls in class that made fun of shy, timid kids like me. Sydney made fun of me for being poor and wearing the same clothes often, and she absolutely hated having to linger after class because her mom wanted to stay and make sure I was okay. Being stuck in a car with her was out of the question, I already had to look forward to teasing tomorrow because of mom forgetting to pick me up again.

“No, thank you.” I politely told Mrs. Hartman. “I'm used to it.”

“Oh, but, it's going to rain really hard soon, where's your umbrella?” Mrs. Hartman asked.

“Can she afford one?” Sydney mumbled something to that effect under her breath, low enough for her mom not to hear.

“I'll be fine.” I didn't look back as I started to walk away from school property. I would, in fact, not be fine, because not only did I not have an umbrella but I didn't even have a jacket. I didn't know just how hard it would rain. Everyone else's parents watched the morning news and made sure their kids had raincoats or umbrellas just in case. Not my mom. That's just another thing I had to do on my own I guess, watch the forecast myself.

I needed to take two buses to get home. During the first long bus ride, it began to rain profusely. I got off at the usual dilapidated looking stop that didn't even have a shelter or a bench, just a sign, on a street that hardly ever seemed to have traffic or any pedestrians. I tried to go into a nearby convenience store to take refuge from the rain but when I came back out, I had missed my bus, and knew it wouldn't come for another hour.

Frustrated, I decided to try and walk the rest of the way home, based on the foggy memory of the appearance of the streets between my home and my school during car rides with my mom and city bus rides. This only lasted for 20 minutes before I had to try and take shelter again. The rain came down even harder and I remember the already few people on the street were running indoors. I was starting to become nervous because I wasn't entirely sure where I was going. I turned a corner and expected to see a familiar street but I couldn't tell if I'd seen it before or not.

Uncertainly, I speed walked down the sidewalk, thinking maybe the next street would be familiar. This one seemed to be lined with abandoned, empty stores or very niche tiny mom and pop shops that looked like they didn't get many customers. The rain was absolutely pouring now, creating streams on the road, the sewer grates only able to drain so much of the water.

That's when I saw it, the doll shop which had a name long forgotten by me. All I cared about at the time was that it was the only building on the block which had an awning. Feeling like I was at a waterpark, I ducked under the little green roof jutting out over the single glass door. I didn't look at the shop at first, I simply shivered, looking like a miserable wet cat, and staring at the sheets of rain streaking down and creating a cold mist.

Absolutely no one was around, I could distantly hear traffic in busier streets but this part of the city felt totally dead. The wind blew, making everything even worse, so the raindrops fell at a slanted angle and pelted me like bullets even under the awning. I know it sounds like I'm being dramatic, but at that rate, I was gonna have a horrible cold.

I turned and noticed the old looking OPEN sign on the door and quickly pushed it open. Water dripped from me and I left wet footprints everywhere like I'd just been swimming. It was dusty inside, not to mention dark, with only a small table lamp on the counter and a standing lamp in another corner. It did not look like a very modern store, not even for the early 2000’s, the walls and floor were dark brown wood, the floorboards creaked with every step and cobwebs were in the ceiling corners.

However, the weirdest thing about it was the wares. Dolls, all creepy but beautiful, lined the shelves and sat on displays. Porcelain dolls, ragdolls, wooden dolls, ball jointed dolls, cloth dolls… Nothing modern, like Barbie or Bratz, the type of toys you'd see at your grandparents’ house. There was also the occasional stuffed animal, designed like they were from the 80’s with big dopey smiles and large eyes. Some people would find this creepy, but as a sheltered child who didn't watch horror movies and didn't have many toys, I thought it was cool.

The next thing I noticed was how quiet and empty the place was. It was pretty small, just having a singular room, with a hallway by the counter which was covered with drapes and thus made me think it was off limits to customers. No one was behind the desk, but there was a card sign that had ‘out to lunch’ written on it in ink, next to a little service bell.

“Hello?” I called, thinking an employee was in a break room somewhere and wanting to make my presence known. Maybe I could get directions. No one answered, the emptiness and the shadows pooling in the dim corners swallowed my voice. It felt lonely in there, it made me feel more sad than scared, sad for the poor owners who clearly didn't make much of a profit from their little business. I thought as much because of how outdated and slightly dirty everything looked.

I glanced back at the single shop front window to the left of the door, seeing that it was still raining cats and dogs. I did not want to go back out there, the shop was peaceful compared to the weather, so I decided to wait out the rain. In the meantime, I browsed their selection of toys. The dolls, with their glass eyes and pretty painted faces, stared out into space. Some of them had pretty Victorian era dresses, but I remember my favorite one was the clown doll.

I know you might think that sounds crazy, but at the time it wasn't scary, it was a ball jointed doll made to look like a little girl dressed as a clown, her head the size of a basketball and her height ending just above my knee. She had orange curly hair in pigtails, and a sad looking but beautiful face painted with clown makeup. She wore a onesie with three buttons, the top one in the shape of a star, the middle in the shape of a heart, and the last in a normal circular shape. Her outfit was yellow with thin red stripes and the buttons were blue, she had big wet looking glass eyes and a small pink mouth made to look like a sad pout. I thought she looked cute, and wished I had the money to buy her.

Time ticked away, and I felt more uncomfortable with being there, since the clerk hadn't returned from lunch yet, making me wonder if the sign was actually meant to say OPEN at all. But if it was closed it would surely be locked, right? I desperately wanted to sit down, I was soaking wet and tired, so I went over to a display in the corner by the entrance where a doll that looked like a medieval queen wearing a long dress was sitting. I removed the doll gently and set her against the wall, under the window, and sat in the rocking chair she had been perched in. I was kind of afraid I'd get in trouble if the clerk returned, so I made up a lie in my head that I found it this way in case they did come back.

A clerk never showed up and I was getting antsy. Was my mom looking for me? How long was it going to rain like this? Would I be able to find my way home...

---

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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/NotJustSomeNumbers on 2024-10-06 19:40:09+00:00.

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(TW for a threat of SA)

“Come on! He’ll never find out!” I pestered my best friend for the millionth time.

Looking back, I regret pressuring her the way I did.

Maggie hugged one of her many large plush sheep closer to her chest hinting she was about to give in to my suggestion.

“He always finds out. I swear he knows everything.” She reminded me.

We’ve only known each other for five years and yet it felt like we had been friends for our entire lives. Maggie was raised by her single father. From what I’ve seen he wasn’t interested in dating and did everything in his power to take care of his daughter. But to be honest, he creeped me out. He was the very silent type only speaking when it was important. I couldn’t put it in words, but the vibe I got from him whenever we were alone was just off. I didn’t suspect he would ever hurt me or Maggie. At times it felt like his eyes saw things normal people shouldn’t.

“Ok, so even if he does find out? What is he going to do? Take away your phone, ground you? I think that’s worth it.” I shrugged.

Maggie looked younger than she was. Most people thought she was just starting high school and not about to graduate. She was book-smart but a bit childish with other things. She was never interested in going to parties, dating, or doing the normal high school events. Now she found herself in the final days of school not experiencing any of it regretting her choices. She wanted to go to a big year-end party before prom the students held every year on an abandoned farm nearby. The local police turned a blind eye to the party as long as no one got hurt and the bonfire stayed under control.

“I suppose. Let me think about it for one more day.” She said but I was done listening to excuses.

“I’ll pick you up at eight. We’ll tell your dad you’re staying at my place and my parents work nights so they won’t notice I’m missing.”

Finally, she relented. To celebrate I asked for the last can of cream soda in the fridge. I would need to go down the stairs to get it. Sounds of a table saw came faintly from the garage so I knew I would be in the clear. I was halfway back up the stairs with the cold can in my hand when the sounds stopped.

Maggie's father appeared behind to be at the foot of the steps covered in sawdust from working. I froze in my tracks wondering how he moved so fast. He builds custom furniture that I heard sell pretty well within a certain circle of people. The pieces all looked pretty basic to me so I didn’t understand it myself.

“Anne, what were you two discussing?” He asked in an even monotone voice.

He was tall, stern with thick black hair that matched Maggie’s. His eyes were cold as ice and I still wasn’t used to him staring in my direction. I also didn’t like how he used my full name instead of the same nickname everyone else said. It was always Anne, not Annie.

“Oh, you know... girl stuff.” I am feeling stressed.

There was no way he knew of our plans to sneak out to the party that weekend.

“I do know.” He said and I felt my heart stop. “Prom is coming up. Tell me your plans when you finalize the arrangements.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. He turned to leave but then added one more thing to the conversation.

“Please ask for my help if you are ever in trouble.”

“Okay...” I nodded slowly unsure of what that was all about.

I watched him leave a bit confused over the interaction. The rest of the night was fairly normal. We talked about how the party might go, then the last few assignments of the year, and finally a small mention of prom. I’ve had a few people ask me out but I refused them. A few guys in the small anime club asked Maggie but she saw them all as friends. After rejecting half the members, the club had slowly been pressuring her to leave the group. I could tell it bothered her. I told her to hell with prom and that we could just hang out together that night. She agreed not doing a good job at hiding her feelings. She wanted to wear the nice dress, have a cute flower arrangement on her wrist, and show off her date to the rest of the school. Right now, she didn’t have any options. To be honest, I wanted to ask her out but I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. She knew I liked girls and guys. She hadn’t given me any vibes of a romantic interest so I’ll stay in the friend zone thank you very much. I like it here.

Our plan to get her out of the house went without any issues. We were going to a party but she wore a heavy grey knitted sweater and boring jeans. I dressed up a little in a bright hot pink top, a thrifted leather jacket, and some torn jeans that made them look expensive. Maggie was always smarter than me. I never considered my outfit may cause some suspicion. We were on the front porch heading down the stairs when her father stepped out the front door, his arms crossed.

We froze convinced we had been caught.

“Are you girls going somewhere tonight?” He pressed.

He never raised his voice but he could make a drill sergeant sweat.

“We’re going to the movies before studying I’m going to fatten her up with overpriced popcorn.” I commented trying to sound convincing.

“That is not what you told me.” He replied.

I half expected him to order Maggie back into the house. Instead, he pulled out his wallet and handed over a few bills.

“The movies are expensive. Any drinking tonight?” He asked point blank.

Maggie gasped pretending to be offended at the suggestion. I shook my head feeling a little guilty for taking the money and lying straight to his face.

“Call me if you need anything.”

I promised we would. Under his watchful gaze, we walked down the driveway to my beat-up truck. Only when we couldn’t see her house we relaxed.

“I think we’re in the clear.” I commented after a few minutes.

Her phone hadn’t started to ring from her father demanding we turn around. A worried expression came over her face causing me to slow down. I almost pulled over by how uncomfortable she looked.

“I feel a little guilty.” Maggie explained.

No matter how I felt about the man, he had busted his ass raising her on his own without a single complaint. However, I don’t think Maggie was a good person because she felt like she owed it to him. She was just born with a gentle soul.

“We can turn back.” I offered.

“No. We’ll go for an hour or so, get bored, and then actually go to the movies.” She decided for us.

I agreed. I bet we would get bored faster than that. I had no plans to drink because I was the driver and Maggie wasn’t the kind of person who wanted to get black out drunk. Aside from chatting with friends, there wouldn’t be much to do at this party.

We arrived after the sunset with the event already in full swing. Someone hooked up speaks blaring terrible-sounding dance music that was just constant beats and nothing else. A massive bonefire had been started with students dancing around it, drinks in hand. I saw a few people I assumed to be older siblings of the students here or people who had already graduated but refusing to let go of their youth.

A few of my other friends ambushed me when we arrived. I made sure to always have Maggie in my line of sight as I chatted with a rotating group of classmates. She had found someone from her club to talk with. A red plastic cup was handed to her which she politely accepted.

The crowd grew denser. Soon I stopped being able to watch Maggie to only get glimpses of her every few minutes. I hate myself for getting distracted and not keeping a better eye on her. While a friend was talking to me about his prom date I realized I hadn’t checked in on her for at least ten minutes. Normally I wasn’t so overprotective. A bad feeling in my gut made me take out my phone to text her.

No response. My friend noticed I was getting worried and asked what was wrong. I questioned him if he had seen Maggie and he shook his head. I tried calling her only to have it drop two rings in. That was odd. The next call didn’t even connect. Did she turn off her phone? No, she wouldn’t do that.

I excused myself to squeeze through the crowd looking for her. I would never forgive myself if something happened. Fear started to rise into my throat no matter how hard I pushed it down.

I raised my voice over the music asking any familiar face if they had seen my friend. Most shook their head but one pointed in the direction of where the cars were parked by the woods. I wasted no time racing over there calling out her name. I had no explanation for why I grew so frantic so quickly. I just knew something was wrong.

I ran between all the cars, stopping near my truck in case she had gone over there for a break from the crowds. By sheer chance, I spotted a few figures slip between the trees into the darkness. My heart sank when I realized they were dragging something. No, someone.

If it wasn’t my friend those bastards were going to hurt someone else. I took off after them not thinking clearly. I had my phone in my hand ready to call the police depending on what I saw. I should have called them first.

A burst of pain came to my face as something slammed hard against my nose. I cried out, falling to the ground and seeing stars. Some fucker just punched me in the face. He had been waiting behind a tree for me to run close enough. The person tried to grab my arm and I lashed out. A swift kick landed hard between his legs.

Blood dripped from my nose and my eyes adjusted to the...

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