430. Unsightly Monster

I have a boss, one that micro-manages me every single day.

“She even has the audacity to sit in my lap while I do my work. That's right.”

Her name is Clara and she's my cat. Clara and I have been through a lot over the last few years, so now that we're stable and chill, I want nothing but the best for her. I would do anything for her. Even let her drive my car, but she can't reach the pedals. So I do the next best thing.

I give her small, fresh cat food. Heck, since the last time I spoke to you guys, I even got my parents cats eating small treats and licks. So Clara is not only beautiful and a tyrant, she's also an influencer, spreading the good word of smalls to her cousins. As she should, because smalls, fresh cat food is protein-packed recipes made with preservative free 100% human-grade ingredients you'd find in your fridge and it's delivered right to your door.

“That's why cats.com names smalls their best overall cat food.”

For a limited time, you get 60% off your first order, plus free shipping when you head to smalls.com/scare.

Starting with smalls is easy, just share info about your cat's diet, health, and food preferences. Then smalls puts together a personalized meal plan for your cat. No more picking between random brands at the store. Smalls has the right food to satisfy any cat's cravings. Clara's even started this fun new thing, or she wakes me up in the middle of the night.

For treats, and as the sun rises to give her breakfast, so stop guessing which meals will upset their stomach for a limited time,

because you are a scare you to sleep listener, get 60% off your first order, plus free shipping when you head to smalls.com/scare.

One last time that 60% off your first offer, plus free shipping, when you head to smalls.com/scare. Hello, and welcome to "Scare You to Sleep". I'm your host, Shelby Novak, and I'm going to read you two bedtime stories tonight. If you missed it earlier this week, I released part 2 of my Q&A bonus episode, so check that out if you're interested in more of what I have to say. Now it's night, first up I have for you a story by author May A Blair. This is Lehigh Valley.

Say it. Her name was whispered, but it still rang out from the woods, hitting her like a gut bunch and leaving her winded. Her mouth went dry, and the blood drained from her face, but she pretended she hadn't heard it. She blocked it out and stared fixedly at a point on the ground, directly in front of herself, smoke billowing from her lungs and a measured exhale.

“The breeze wrestling through the leaves was all she heard, that's what she told herself.”

And that's what she would believe, at least for as long as she could. She took a final drag of her cigarette, and then crushed it out on the dirt of the yard. She stood up, rushing ash and dust offered thread bear dress, and took a cautious step away from her house toward town. There were no chickens in her yard this morning, but she hadn't expected them. The last chicken had disappeared two weeks ago, a month after her cat sunk away.

Three months after already didn't come home. That thought and her whispered name were simultaneous occurrences. She blanched, but pushed both away. Now it was not the time to consider either. There would be time enough for both tonight.

The walk to town was as silent as an expectant courtroom.

There were no dogs barking at her as she went.

“A fact punctuated by the discarded colors at the ends of chains.”

No goats crowded along the fence lines, no children, squealed and single-minded to light. No vehicles flared to life, even the earlier wind had fallen away. Leaving the branches of the trees, hanging limply in their autumnal finery, reduced to a dreary backdrop. It would be more than hyperbole to say that her world was dead.

She shivered and picked up the pace. She was nearly to healy place. If she could get there, she would be able to convince herself it was all in her head.

That last night had been a nightmare and all of this desolation was nothing more than

a result of the decade's long population leak from the rural valley to distant urban and suburban centers.

“A paying of sorrow tugged her at that thought.”

Already, they were supposed to have done the same themselves. She had planned to be an all-in-town with him by now. Stop it, you can't let this kill you. The healy's rotting roof came into view and she almost sprinted, anything to escape, her own head this morning and the terrors of last night.

She did start running as much good as that would do. No! She gasped and sped up.

The front door of Martha Healy's house hung open ominously.

It gave, like a skulls and dyes, revealing just as little. The darkness inside clung to the entryway stubbornly, offering no glimpses within. Her mouth was dry as bones, as she whipped past the empty gate and rushed to the doorway. Her hands reached out to brace herself against the wooden frame, as she crashed to a stop. There were no lights on inside.

There was food sitting untouched on the kitchen table. It was a meager meal, but it had gone un-eaten, not even a bite taken. Martha's single plate was empty. No crumbs were greased to speak in testament to her presence. She wouldn't have let it go to waste.

“Martha, her voice should have been stronger, right?”

It escaped her in a soft squeak, like a mouse, timidly expressing its presence. She inhaled and called out again with more gustow. Anyone within the one room home would have heard her. But nothing stirred. The hairs in the back of her neck stood on end.

Should she go into the bedroom? Not fucking now. She backed away. She was devastatedly afraid of what she was going to find in there. She wouldn't find Martha.

Had that been the other woman's solution, she wouldn't have prepared supper. Now, Sadie knew there would be nothing out of place in the room. The bed would be made. Close, laying where they had been placed, there wasn't anything to see inside. That was more horrifying than anything she could imagine.

Martha was the last. It was not a thought Sadie could escape. It was a fact that she was facing whether she wanted to or not. Yesterday, it had just been the two of them. Everything else was gone.

Having fled by way of migration or bullets, either when the mind shut down. Or when the disappearance has started. That or they had been one of the disappearances themselves. She and Martha were all that had remained. Sadie was here because Martha was and Martha had nowhere else to go.

Nothing was tying Sadie to this cursed locality anymore.

Why was she still standing here? Was there any place to go?

“Actually, you could try to call the fosters, they had gotten out before the started.”

They were already in Alan Town, plugging away in an Amazon warehouse last she heard. Or maybe the martens, Mary said she was working at some kind of cleaning agency in Philadelphia. They would believe her, they would want to help, they would. The phones were down. They had been for weeks now, there was no way to get ahold of anyone who got out.

And those who were the only ones who would care.

That had been made apparent to Sadie a long time ago. It had been made apparent to everyone in rural Appalachia, but especially to her. No one gave a shit if they lived or died. No one was coming to save them. That had been her job and she had lost sight of it.

“Everyone was dead because she fucked up.”

She could start walking. If she had a north and east, she would eventually hit more homes, more townships. Someone had to still be there, right? She shattered, a deep and visceral reaction that shook her from guts to skin, a trail of fear racing up and down her spine like electric current.

If she left, she wasn't getting away. Safety was too far away and there was too much land, too much forest between here and there. The mines snaked through these hills like arteries. Anything could be lurking under her. And there were other things that lived amongst the trees.

She wasn't getting out of here.

“The breath left her lungs rushing from her and leaving her limp, weak.”

She collapsed, her knees giving way, tears in her eyes before she knew what was happening.

The anguish, heartache, dread and panic of the five months hit her at a million miles

a minute. She could feel tendrils of dismay and distress winding their way through her body, wrapping her mind and limbs in nervous system and so much trepidation and alarm she couldn't move. All she could do was weak, great, heaving whales that rolled through her from a place of

primal desperation. She didn't want to die and she especially didn't want to die such a senseless, useless end, quiet death. If she had to die, she wanted it to mean something. She wanted them to care, and that moment she would have given anything.

She would have flayed her own body bloody to make someone who mattered outside of these mountains, see her, acknowledge her, more than that. She wanted them to understand exactly what was happening. She wanted them to care, a God's damn sliver, that this was what so many lived with, that this despair permeated the very ground she came from, the air she breathed, the food

she ate, the water she drank. It had been like this from birth, and had been for generations. It was an inherent and fundamental part of life here, and no one should be forced to live like that. No one she knew, had been free from that.

Not since their ancestors came to this place, and it didn't matter. That fear claimed her again, chilling her, she collapsed her hands over her mouth trying to strangle her own sobs before they tore out of her mouth, slowly, much too slowly it felt back. She regained what was left of her composure, coming back to herself and her body.

on her dress.

“She pulled a cigarette and matched book from her bra, hand shaking as she lit it and inhaled.”

It did its job, the nicotine flooding her with unearned clarity and calm.

These were her last hours, she recognized that, these mute deserted hours. It was under no delusion that she was surviving tonight. It was her and only her, not even a squirrel to chitter amongst the trees. Well, not only her, there were the ancient things that had been here long before a human had ever set foot along the backbones of these mountains.

“The things that had grown old and sour even before the fracture that drove an ocean between”

these mountains and their home, those things were here too. She could feel them, since their presence when she held her breath, she could even hear them saying they had wanted her or someone like her, since before she had been born. They were patient, they had waited, they had won, hadn't they say he glanced at the sky inside, tobacco smoke pluming out of her, she didn't have to be sober for this.

Sandy, it was dark, they were closer now, the room was spinning and she wondered why

“she had bothered to come back in here, maybe she wanted to make them work that much harder”

to claim her.

Was it just her imagination or was the voice annoyed, angry, in life that voice had never been

angry with her, exasperated or frustrated sure hurt sometimes never angry though, already had told her so many times that he could have never been angry with her, he would have never hurt her. Of course they were calling to her with his voice, it hadn't always been his voice, just the last three months, it was then that she knew he was gone, that they had him.

She took another pool of whisky from the bottle and let her head all back against the wall, she had stumbled into and slid down, eyes clenched shut, the trees and underbrush were rustling outside, it was more than just the voice now, they were so close, it was time. The hollowness inside her had swallowed everything, now she was full of nothing more than food was tobacco and false bravado, it was past time, they knew she could hear the urgency

and matched it with her own, the rifle was cool as she slipped it into her mouth, the room was spinning and she could barely concentrate but if she didn't do this now, she was

never going to get the chance, she didn't want to know what they planned to do with someone

like her, it all happened at once, a hand with fingers wrong and too long slapped, then curled around the door frame, she squeezed the trigger, pain blossomed, it all went black. You know, I often say this podcast is a one-man show but long time listeners know that's

audacity to sit in my lap while I do my work, that's right, her name is Clara and she's my cat, Clara and I have been through a lot over the last few years so now that we're stable and chill I want nothing but the best for her, I would do anything for her, even let her drive my car but she can't reach the pedals, so I do the next best thing, I give her small fresh cat food heck, since the last time I spoke to you guys, I even got my parents cats eating small treats and

licks, so Clara is not only beautiful and a tyrant, she's also an influencer, spreading the good word of smalls to her cousins, as she should because smalls fresh cat food is protein packed recipes made with preservative free 100% human grade ingredients you'd find in your fridge and it's delivered

“right to your door, that's why cats.com name smalls their best overall cat food, for a limited time”

you get 60% off your first order, plus free shipping when you head to smalls.com/scare,

starting with smalls is easy, just share info about your cat's diet, health and food preferences, then smalls puts together a personalized meal plan for your cat, no more picking between random brands at the store, smalls has the right food to satisfy any cats cravings, Clara's even started this fun new thing or she wakes me up in the middle of the night, for treats and as the sun rises to give her breakfast, so stop guessing which meals will upset their stomach for a limited time

because you are a scare you to sleep listener, get 60% off your first order, plus free shipping

“when you head to smalls.com/scare, one last time that's 60% off your first offer, plus free shipping”

when you head to smalls.com/scare and last but certainly not least, is a her suit tale by author Constance Yang. This is "Becoming."

I sat in the dark pondering why it grew there. I thought maybe the growth was simply a pimple at first,

but not uncommon on one's back, or so I'm told. Luckily for me, it was not simply a pus-filled sack of ooze. With the onset of age, I had sadly become accustomed to the occasional outburst of hair in places where there should be none, but quite frankly nothing had prepared me for.

“What I was sure was an unnatural growth. Upon my discovery, my first inclination was to”

pluck, shave, prune, and in any manner rid myself of the atrocity. This remedy the situation for a short period of time, until the hormones once again went awry and my plight returned. Having a doctoral remedy was of no use, with all of modern technology, no lasers, waxing, or removal of follicles did the trick. I was eventually informed that I would just have to live with it. I was able to hide the growth from my husband for quite some time. This will happen when one is married

for as long as we had been. The lights rarely go on, in the course of time, the clothing becomes more

layered and bedtime, less intimate. But of course, the laws of probability finally took over.

What the hell is that? He exclaimed upon entering the bathroom one evening while I was bathing. What? I questioned, although I knew there was really no way he could miss the blight upon my nudity. That, he said, pointing at the space between my shoulder blades near the top of my back. Why it's exactly what it looks like dear. A hair will get rid of it. My husband, so simple, so honest, so naive. To assume that I had not already tried

was preposterous, and I told him so, rather rubly, I'm afraid, and he left the bathroom in a half. I finished bathing and while drying myself off, discovered yet another area of previously uncharted growth. This time, the discovery was behind my left knee, knowing full well that my body was not that of a contortionist. I concluded that the new growth had no way come in contact with the previous one, and thus automatically ruled out contagion as a factor. Not being one to cry my way back to the

The medical profession had already established its inability to assist with my malady.

“I tried to recall if I had been bit by some mammal or bug, but could not think of any such”

cause for my body's sudden changes, and so my quest for a homemade solution began. I started quite nonchalantly, but obsession soon took over, and I was making new concoctions in earnest. Before long, my kitchen counters were filled with bowls, small cauldrons, bottles, and boxes of every chemical I could legally purchase, and some that I could not. For several months, I made potions, patches, solutions, and numerous selves. Not one of them

removed a single hair. Paches of which had now sprouted up behind my right knee above my buttocks, and on both shoulders. In my mind's eye, I was beginning to look like a woolly mammoth.

“The hair was coarse, black, and very long. One section I measured ran almost six full inches.”

My husband appeared to take no notice of the disarray of the once tiny kitchen, and seemed concerned only that his meals continued to be served on time. Thus, I was able to hide my condition for another four months. It was at that time the dreaded night visit occurred. I should not relate it as a visit, I suppose, as we still slept in the same bed, but we discovered that the very queen-sized bed that used to be so roomy and almost too big,

had through the years become a tad bit too small to allow for our required personal space. The visit took the form of my husband snuggling up to me and rubbing my backside, which he remarked was growing quite soft. I hadn't the heart to relate to him that it was the extra cushioning of what I now deemed as fur, growing, that allowed this new found comfort. When he tried to coax me into undressing, I politely refused and claimed to headache.

I should have known better, this excuse had never worked in the past, and what tended me to use it

then? I really don't know. Maybe I truly did wish to have at least one person to share my

“hairy secret with. Upon seeing my backside, my husband being the caring, gentle human being that he was”

screamed and called me an unsightly monster. Carrying on so that it finally got the better of me, and I had to dispose of him just to shut him up. A small bit of one of my potions in a cup of nightly tea, nicely did the trick. The next few months are, but a blur. I spent much of that time wallowing in self-pity. TV became my new best friend. Thankfully, I snapped out of it and decided to make the best of my situation once the decision was made new growth areas filled me with delight.

I had finally decided that to be half human and half whatever it was that I was becoming

was simply a nuisance. I waited for the change to completely take over my body or a bait all together, whatever the outcome. I wished only for my body to resolve itself to be one way or the other, not the hideous half beast I had become. Food had become an issue as the cupboards and freezer became bare. The hair on my head changed from being the once soft red that I loved so much to the scraggly coarse black hair that was taking over my body. It grew down the sides of my face

into a long black beard that almost reached my breasts, which as long as I'm admitting things, had started growing hair as well. I deemed myself too scary to go into public to shop for groceries, alternative nutrition had to be planned. My meal times were altered as well. I was able to order some food items online, but with limited resources due to my inability to work and my husband's sudden yet planned demise, I had to rely on other means. Stray animals became a study food source,

and coincided quite nicely with my meal time schedule changes for they were easily caught at night

stray creatures soon began to diminish. I considered myself the neighborhood hero. By the time I

“allowed myself to delve deeper into researching what it was that I was possibly becoming. I had”

grown what can only be called claws and sported a nice shiny set of fangs to boot.

My first reaction was that I was now aware wolf. However, my ailment apparently was not associated

with the moon. And although I had by then acquired a taste for warm flesh, it was still not my initial meal of choice. I then thought maybe I was turning into a female version of Sasquatch. I discarded this idea just as quickly as I entertained it. I had not been born with unusual amounts of hair and no member of my family had ever exhibited any remotely similar symptoms. I was at a loss as to what I had become after a while. I decided it didn't really matter as there was apparently no cure anyway.

At night I would wait for prey to enter my yard and think about where my life was to go from here.

It was then that I heard it. It was so far away. I wasn't sure I had actually heard anything. The next night I heard it again and the night after. Each night the howling came a bit closer. I dared not answer for fear that I would wake the neighbors. Instead, I urinated outside and hopes that the breeze would carry my scent to the creature coming to rescue me.

“But I'm sure that's what he is doing. He has found out about me and knows that I await a new life.”

One where I will no longer be trapped with these confining walls. A life where I can hunt freely and without worry of being seen and possibly hunted myself. I await his arrival patiently, peering out into the night listening for the rest of his paws through my yard, waiting for his scratch on my door. Thanks for listening and thank you once again to my two authors this week, May a Blair,

and Constance Yang. I really appreciate both of your stories. They were both so different

“and both so beautiful in their own ways. If you'd like more from the show you can follow me”

or you can join the Patreon page page around.com/scarytoceleep. If you'd like add free episodes and bonus episodes are currently over on the Patreon page, they are voting on the next April Fool's Day episode. I did an April Fool's Day episode a couple of years ago called Shampoo You To Sleep and I wanted to do another this year. I'm feeling April Foolish. So they are voting over there if you'd like to join and if you'd like to follow the show for more news or follow

me personally, you can follow the show @scarytoceleep on all of the socials, mostly on Instagram and you can follow me personally @shelbybinovac. Also, I just stick around Instagram these days and if you have a story you'd like to submit to the show, you can send it to [email protected] or encourage your writer friends. Believe it was constant, who said that a friend of theirs encouraged them to send in, becoming and I really enjoyed it. So

shout out to that friend if you I assume you listened to the show. Thank you for that. And for baking corner this week, I for the first time made what's called Irvine frosting. It's also called boiled milk frosting but Irvine frosting is a much nicer name, right? And it's made with flour and granular sugar instead of powdered sugar. It's not a traditional American buttercream

and I've always wanted to try it because you basically boil milk, sugar and flour together.

You make a sort of paste. You let that cool. Then you beat butter until it's fluffy and then

but that's the closest thing I can think of it. And it telekits light and fluffy and it turns into frosting

“and it's so soft. It's a little less sweet than American buttercream as well and less buttery”

than a Swiss buttercream. A Swiss meringue buttercream. So I've heard both those complaints from both of those. It's like Swiss meringue is a little too buttery. I've heard that American buttercream is too sweet and this is a little less of both of those things. So I recommend checking it out. It didn't take much longer than the other two. I mean, I made that you do have the extra stuff of making the paste. It doesn't take long and while the cake is in the oven, it cools down

and while the cake is in the oven and it's cooling. It cools down. I also made a vanilla cake

“and the recipe I used was really good. I think it over baked it though. It did call for a”

six inch pan and I only have eight inch pans and I tried to do less time but I think I should have done even less time. So I over baked it a little bit but I did put a post a picture of that in my Instagram stories at some point and I cut it into slices, froze all the slices and then the next tip morning. I wrapped all of those slices in Seran wrap, put them in a bag and so now I have lots of cake slices for myself. So that's just a tip for those of you who can't finish a whole cake

if you live alone or if you don't live alone but it's just that you don't have a huge sweet tooth and things don't get finished in time. There you go. It's a great idea. Now I have a

“bag of cake. Who doesn't want a bag of cake? I think that's all for this week. I'm going to go”

and let you enjoy your evening. I thoroughly enjoyed these stories this week. I don't know what it was. They both touched me in different ways and I really, I don't know. They brought up some

some whimsy in me in a tragic way in the first one and in a more whimsical way in the second one I

guess. So thank you again to those authors. And yeah, I don't believe I have anything else coming up other than April Fool's Day episode next week. Look out for that. Some of them, some of you it was at your thing last time. That's totally fine. You can skip it. It's weird. It's April Fool. I mean this year. I'm letting you know what's happening. So it's not much of April Fool's prank. The first time I did it, it was, but I just think it's fun to do something really ridiculous and silly for April Fool's.

So check that out. I'm not going to tell you what the topic is though. My Patreon patrons know because they can see what is definitely winning or has won by now in the poll and with some additional requests in the comments. So I'm very excited about it. All right. So I will see you next week for that and there will be a real episode. I should mention that there will be April Fool's episode on Wednesday which is April Fool's Day. Is it? I don't believe that's like an international holiday. So

some of my international listeners might be confused by that. It's a weird holiday. I'm not sure if

it's international, but that will be Wednesday the first and then a regular episode will be out on the

third. So don't worry. It won't be stuck with just a weird episode. Okay. I'm going to let you go, go get some sleep. Sweet dreams. [Music] [Music] Attention passengers. If you can hear me right now, you're actually aboard our space ship,

just trying to reach our new home and you're listening to the ship's local station,

“deep space radio. I bring you interviews, hello passengers. It's me, the captain. Captain Donald”

duck, a live event coverage, and even the occasional pirated audio. So, hey.

Hey yourself. And it's a good thing I do, because I get the feeling there's something more

“to this stretch of uncharted space than meets the eye. There's a reason you're not supposed”

to create sentient progress. It seems this pyramid of metal is acting as a kind of conduit.

Toon in for a new broadcast every week day morning. Each season brings a new adventure

“that you can take right alongside us on Discord. So strap in and hold on to something,”

because I'm Colin Gossel, and this is Deep Space Radio.