S24 Ep15: NoSleep Podcast S24E15

It can bring unspeakable horror to the most familiar places. Your morning shower, a tranquil

“will riverbank, or the endless ocean. It's time to dive deep into the abyss.”

From the dark waters of the Cape Fear River, emers yourself in horror as you brace yourself for the no sleep podcast. Welcome to the no sleep podcast. I'm your host for now, Jessica McEvoy. Now if you're newer to the show, you may not recognize my voice, but once upon a time, voice acting was my main gig. I found out you could buy a microphone, plug it into your computer,

and just do it. The second thing I ever recorded was actually my audition. More of a, let's

make sure you don't sound like you're recording in a tin can, confirmation, for no sleep. And they were the first to ever pay me for my acting. I started way back in season 3, back in 2014. So, over a decade ago, okay, that hurts. I was a fetus. Since then, I have faded into the background, working more on the editorial side of things. I promise I am trying to get back in front of the mic, but there are just so many stories to read, which, you know, can't really complain

about getting to read scary stories all day for a living. In fact, send me more. My absolute

“favorite submissions usually come from listeners of the show. I think it's really cool”

to be in a position where we can have people who enjoy and love what we do contribute and be part of it. So, if you've written a story you'd like to share with us, send it on over two submissions at the no sleep podcast.com. If you'd like to know the specific details of what we're looking for, head over to the no sleep podcast.com/submissions for a full list of our guidelines. It will take us some time to get to you. I'm sorry. We just have a lot

of submissions, but we're doing our best to reduce our wait times. Now, because I read so many scary stories for no sleep, I don't actually consume that much horror media once I clock out of work. You spend all day reading about the worst things that can happen to a human being, you kind of just want to unwind after all that. I do make this sacrifice for the heroine horror podcast, which I do with some friends. A couple of which you might recognize

from the no sleep sphere, where we listen to and discuss other horror audio dramas and try to get more ears on these indie creators. So, if you've enjoyed the dulcet tones of me yapping, or you're looking for new horror audio to indulge in, you can find here at a horror wherever you choose to listen to your podcasts. But yeah, outside of that, I keep my media pretty cozy, excluding the death metal, but that's wholesome in its own way. Unlike

the folks in our next couple of stories, hey folks, just wanted to take a second to let

you know this episode is sponsored by Better Help. And it's May, which is mental health awareness month. A reminder that whatever you're going through, you don't have to go through it alone. Personally, I've been struggling a lot lately, more down, then ups, but I keep

“reminding myself that life is a journey. Some days feel good, and others feel overwhelming.”

Whatever's keeping you up at night, besides our scary stories, it's easy to feel like you

have to figure it all out on your own. But the truth is, no one has all the answers,

support you can make all the difference. Therapy has helped me, and I know it can help you. Your help has fully licensed therapists who get millions of five star reviews. Their sign-up process is quick and easy, and they will make sure you get matched with a therapist suited to your needs. Use this month as an opportunity to check in with yourself and understand where you are right now. You don't have to be on this journey alone. Find support

and have someone with you in therapy. Sign up and get 10% off at betterhelp.com/noseleep. OK, back to you, Jessica. In our first tale, though that is fun. We're introduced to a group of friends on the hunt for what is supposedly the world's most extreme horror movie. All they have to do is watch 13 unspecified

“scary movies in a row in the right order, and then the mystery movie will appear. Easy, right?”

Matthew Jackson brings us this story of friendship and fear, reminding us that it's probably not the best idea to try out rituals you find and the dark corners of the internet.

We've got Dan, always brings baked goods to the live shows of Pula. Also,

check out his music on Spotify. Add a kiss, your ASMR boyfriend Jackson, and Jeff, I'm so sorry for always casting his weirdos, Clement, performing this one. As we all plop on the couch, to ride the stream. It was supposed to be a way to kill half a summer. Now, I'm groggy from bleach fumes after cleaning up all the blood. My English teacher says it's important to sketch out your ideas as much as possible, outline things so you can understand what you really mean.

Maybe if I ride it all down like this, I'll understand what happened. Maybe how to stop it from happening to me. Or maybe I'm just killing more time while the horror movies keep playing, pushing me back toward the thing that fucked it all up.

Logan never told us where exactly he found this idea might have been read it or ticked talk or

some dark web corner he found, but according to him, it worked like this. You open the streaming app and queue up a horror movie. We didn't have clear instructions I want to start with, but we settled on it follows, with that sweet opening kill to launch the thing. You watch that movie all the way to the end and wait for the little what to watch next, bar of recommendations at the bottom of the screen. That's where it gets tricky,

“because you have to go down to that bar and pick your next movie, but Logan said no one really knew”

the exact order you were supposed to watch stuff in. Because the streamer keeps adding and removing movies, right? So maybe you pick the third movie from the left and keep going, then pick the second movie from the left next and then the first, then the fourth. And eventually, if you do everything right, you unlock this secret horror movie. The most fucked up thing you've ever seen, so fucked up that the streamer can't even advertise it

and the people who have seen it can barely describe it. But here's the thing.

If you get the combination wrong, you can't just like go back and watch from the fifth movie you picked and try again. You have to start over from the very beginning and according to Logan, you can't take breaks in between. It has to be one continuous stream of movies all building to this secret thing, one long stream you ride until the very end.

“Riding the stream, that's what Logan said the internet called it, and no one knows how long the”

ride actually lasts. But once you do get to the end, you'll never forget it. It'll be the most brutal horror experience of your life. Cori and I thought it was kind of dumb, but we were probably just going to watch horror movies all summer anyway, and we had Logan's dad's lakehouse. Not really a lakehouse so much as a shitty lake cabin, but it was ours until July 4th at least, with a fridge full of beer and a solid wifi connection, so... might not. Let the marathon begin.

with time, and it's just screams and chainsaws lighting up your brain all day and all night. Man, it's bullshit, I'm telling you. It's a room where they're using to juice the algorithm. Get viewer numbers up. Cori had hit his limit on day three of this Odyssey. Logan, however, wasn't willing to give up just yet. If that's true, how come they're not building the rumor around one of their new shows or something? On the TV, Sidney Prescott ran from Ghost

Face, just like she had every day since 1996.

“Fuck if I know, can we at least watch a movie with new to the next time?”

Dude calm down, have another beer. Other had five beers. Then, take a nap, I don't care. That was the one silver lining. According to Logan, the movies had to be playing endlessly, but you didn't have to watch them endlessly. So we napped in shifts, sometimes for four or five hours at its time, while someone else manned the controls, so we didn't leave too long of a pause between movies. Cori slumped back on the couch while Logan stared at his phone,

thumbing through a website I'd never seen, studying it like it had all the SAT answers.

When I asked him what it was, his stuck his phone in his pocket and went back to the movie.

“I think I got it. He'd said that before, more than a few times,”

but there was an extra layer of energy to Logan's voice this time. Or maybe Cori and I were just imagining that, hoping for a breakthrough. We'd gotten to the point with the horror movies where it was less of a past time, and more of a thing we had to conquer so we could leave the lake house. Do something else, maybe even just go outside and sit in the sun. We didn't want to see this fabled secret

movie so much as we wanted to be able to save we hadn't wasted our time. sunk cost fallacy, my dad calls it. It's 13 movies and we have to end on Friday the 13th. Logan shoved his phone back into his pocket again so we couldn't see what he had been reading. That makes total sense. The only Friday movie on here is the remake and it sucks. It doesn't suck. You just think it sucks

because your anti-remake. I'm anti-remake because remakes are always shitty except the fly.

Fuck you, it's good. Whether it's good or not, we're watching it. We're 10 movies in, so if we can get there over the next, I don't know, four hours, this could be it. You said that last week with your big Boba-Doo theory. I know what I said, but we're doing this. Even Logan had lost all trace of enthusiasm for the movies themselves at that point.

“And I honestly think one of the reasons Corey and I stayed is because we were worried about him.”

We could have left the lake house anytime. No rule said multiple people had to be there to unlock this thing, but Logan had roped us in. And now he looked like the guy in the horror movie who's got a zombie bite and doesn't want to tell anyone. So we stayed because we didn't know what he would do if we weren't there. At least that way we could bring him burgers from Sonic and keep reminding him to eat. Sure enough, a few hours later, Friday the 13th ended and a thick tension ran through the room,

joining the smell of stale beer and body odor. We watched the credits roll, waited for the recommendations bar to load for the millionth time to show us something different or tell us we'd failed again. Halfway through the credits. No bar. Did you fuck with the settings? It's supposed to be up by now. No. Give it a minute.

It was the wife I like. I said give it a minute. Logan's eyes never left the screen. Credit scrolling

up the lenses of his glasses like a secret code all their own. The credits ended. The screen went black. Across the room I heard Logan make a noise that was somewhere between and I told you so scoff and a fuck this grown. I remember sitting forward on the couch, puzzled, palms slick

Maybe it was cutting us off for our own good, like a bartender.

Then the buffering wheel came up. A thick translucent snake eating its own tail, loading something. No. Summing something. A few seconds later, ominous music played over the black screen. A few seconds after that. An image faded in. This is it. Holy shit we did it.

“We all sat straight up silent and wide-eyed and watched the secret movie.”

Fuck. Corrie bent all the way forward in his chair until his head was between his knees. I mean, fuck. Yeah, worth it. Totally worth it. While Corrie folded himself in half across the room, Logan stood up from his spot next to me on the couch and started pacing. More animated

than I'd seen him since that first day. His eyes darting around like he was searching for something

hidden in the dark corners of the cabin. It wasn't until that moment that I realized there were dark corners to the cabin because the sun had set while we watched. I didn't even know how long the movie was. That almost feels illegal, right? Like someone would stop them from making something that I know. It was just in the silence I tried to put words to what I'd just seen. But nothing came. I felt hollow. Like the movie had taken a part of me and scooped it out.

“What was the most fucked up part? I think it was when the tide of intestines came out of the building.”

Huh? You know, the door opened and it was like, come on, you watched it.

I didn't see that. I was going to say when the eyeball gets sliced up into little rounds. I didn't even know eyeballs could do that. The fuck are you talking about? No one sliced any eyeballs. I've also exploded, but I watched the same fucking movie you did not happen. Probably. The eyeball thing, right? My eyes were glued to the beer bottles littering the coffee table until Logan said my name. I looked up and found Logan and Cory looking down at me.

Something building behind their eyes that might have been excitement and might have been panic. Tingly heat surged across the back of my neck and up around my scalp and I realized that I hadn't seen either of the things they'd talked about. What I'd seen was something maybe less gruesome, but much darker, much more. See, here's when we get into the problem because even now,

“while I'm writing all of this out, I can barely remember what I saw. I can only remember”

this darkness, this sense of something massive approaching from somewhere humans can't reach. Something with teeth the size of skyscrapers and an endless appetite that would swallow the world. I shook my head, looking from Logan to Cory and then back again. Fucking. Come on, guys. We all watched it. Poveriser, right? The people can just rip you to shreds with their minds, like in scanners, but wait more fucked up. Logan turned to look at Cory,

for a situation showing on his face, eyes still wide. No? My movie was called "God of Razors," straight up slasher. Way more gory than like Terrifier 2. He shook his head once, ruffling his long hair like he was trying to clear his mind. When he was done, he looked at me. Robbie, what did you see? I didn't want to answer. I didn't want to talk about what I'd seen, but their eyes were boring into me like drills. Unspeakable. It was called unspeakable.

Logan took a step back like I'd just pushed him, pivoted away from the TV and walked to the kitchen. I thought he meant to open the fridge for a fresh beer. Instead, he reached for one of the cabinets. Fliped it open, and pulled out a whiskey bottle with a black label.

Okay, so we all really saw a different movies at the same time on the same screen.

Well, let's y'all make it shit up. I know what I saw. Me too. That means Logan took a swig from the bottle. Winsed as it went down his throat. Corrie stuck out his hand and Logan passed the whiskey. That means that we found like some kind of new tech or something. It's like a beta test for something that, oh shit, this could change streaming forever. This is

“amazing. Like, what if it's tuned into our brainwaves or something, showing us the best movie for our own mind?”

Corrie took a swig of the whiskey, swallowed, then doubled over. Hands trembling as he set the

bottle on the coffee table. I wonder if we did it again if we'd all see something different. Logan ignored the sudden wave of groans coming from Corrie, walking away from him to drop onto the couch again. How many of these movies are there? I don't feel good. I think I need to go home. Logan tapped his phone screen alive and pulled up his notes app. Okay, okay, so we started with it follows, then we moved into final destination, then

Corrie shuffled away, knocking over empty beer bottles with a tinkling clatter as he went, still bent in half, feet unsteadily carrying him toward the hallway for the bathroom waited. I watched him cross the living room, saw the toe of his shoe catch on the little metal lip, separating the carpet from the scarlet linoleum in the hallway, and then something changed. Corrie didn't just hit the floor. He sprawled out like an ordinary human body would sprawl,

but when he landed, his whole shape changed. Like a water balloon that bounces off the grass instead of breaking. Waves seemed to course through his body, rippling across his narrow back even through his black t-shirt, which looked like it was changing color in the fluorescent light just over his head.

“No, not changing color, getting wet, wet with blood. I will never forget the sound Corrie made”

right before he went away. I'd never heard a human make a sound like that before.

Somewhere between the mule and whale of an animal desperate for rescue, and the cry of baby makes when it's in between sobs and so exhausted, it can barely find the strength to scream any more. He made that sound, and then his body broke. Broke is the only word for it. He didn't exactly pop like a balloon, and he didn't crumble and crunch. A way you might think a body full of bones would. He broke. His skin split, his bones

seemed to vanish beneath the weight of whatever unseen pressure was coming down on him. And a

“second later, he was nothing but gore. In my periphery, I could see Logan looking up from his”

phone, watching as our friend became a shallow river of red bits, laced with ropey and trails, spreading across the hall. Paul, riser. Something else probably should have happened other than what we actually did, which was packed those intestines into a garbage bag, then mopped the blood with, what must have been a whole bottle of bleach. We should have called someone, should have

maybe taken a minute to try and understand what we'd just seen so we could explain ourselves. But really, how do you ever tell anyone that your best friend died via spontaneous disintegration that maybe happened because he watched a movie? So, we didn't say anything. Plus, I couldn't pull Logan away from the couch after that. He came around just enough to help me load up the little bits of quarry into a bag and take them out back where the heat was

combination over, trying to get back to the place where we could see if there was more to this thing.

We made it through two movies before the first cut opened on Logan's body.

Logan went, held up his right hand, and we both watched as a thin vertical line of red appeared in the space between the knuckles of his first and second fingers. It wasn't split skin, either. The kind you get when it's the dead of winter and you've washed your hands too much. This was a clean, deep cut. Like watching my mom butterfly open a chicken breast so she could stuff it. Blood bloomed in the little can, in a flesh the cut left behind. But Logan did nothing

beyond winsing, not until I reached out with an old takeout napkin and shoved it over the wound. God of razors. Wow, it's interactive too. How'd they do that? He looked at me like he expected

me to have some kind of symptom too that we couldn't imagine what, since I'd never told him

“what my movie was about. I could barely remember myself. I just remembered a blackness and”

those teeth and something shuffling out from the cosmos to devour. That hollow feeling returned in my gut, but I didn't have time to dwell on it because by then another cut was spreading across Logan's forehead. This one's so deep I could see the paleness of his skull beneath it. Logan didn't seem to mind beyond the inconvenience of all the bleeding. Finally, when the fourth cut appeared on his left shoulder and started to see blood across his

shirt, he got up, went to the kitchen and collected a roll of paper towels, then sat back down to watch the Baba Duke as it played through its spot in our progression. The combo we'd used once already to unlock something dangerous. Maybe it changes when you watch it again. Maybe it's better.

I wanted to go, wanted to never watch another horror movie again, but I couldn't just leave him

to bleed. The times I tried to mention calling an ambulance, you would just say no, then go back to his mothering. And I guess an ambulance would have just brought questions about what happened to Corey anyway. Questions I couldn't really answer. So, I sat there, watching him slowly transform into a bloodstained paper towel mummy. And somewhere along the way I pulled out my phone and started typing this out. Because I guess I don't have anything better to do.

Now that I've gone back through it all, though, I'm realizing something I wish I wasn't. I don't think I was writing all of this because I was trying to make sense of things.

“I think I'm writing all of this because I know what's coming. Whether that little buffering”

wheel spins the movie back out at us again or not, I know that soon someone will come here because they can't get us on the phone. And they'll find Corey's guts in a bag and Logan bleeding out on the couch and me. Well, I'm not sure I'll be here. In fact, I'm not sure any of us will be. And maybe that's better. In the meantime, Logan's trying to get his blood covered slippery hand to work the remote right. So I guess I'm going to help him hit play on the next movie.

It's a way to kill whatever's left of this summer before it comes for me. Something dark. Something hungry. Something unspeakable. [Music] Let's take a short break for our sponsors, who help us keep our heads above water. For waves of ad-free horror content, join our sleepless universe by going to sleepless. The

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Taxes and fees extra. See Mint Mobile for details. Now let's plunge back into the deep waters of horror. See I feel very content in my choice to keep the horror movies to a minimum. I'll stick to watching Twitch Vods on YouTube during my leisure time. Pokemon stadium rental randomizer can't hurt me if I'm not the one playing it. Unfortunately though, it looks like this next story might

ruin that for me as well. Zs or kids spend a tale for us about a lonely man who discovers a strange YouTube channel featuring a foreign new show. As you continue to watch however, the content grows increasingly more disturbing. Mike, God audio, del Godio, and Lindsay, oh I'm a stunt woman and improv comedian and classically trained singer and a thousand other cool things, Rousseau read this one for us, warning us to stay far away from channel 14.

So my brother Anthony passed away very recently. I love him a lot. We hadn't seen each other in what three, four years, but hundreds of miles separated us.

“It wasn't an easy task for us to get together, hindsight is such a fucking bitch, isn't it?”

Wish we'd talked more. Wish we'd chatted online throughout the pandemic or something, anything really. We weren't conjoined at the hip like some, but we grew up together. Learned a lot of lessons together. Even as half-brother and half-sister, I'd argue we were closer than the majority of siblings. The whole reason I even bring this up is because the details of his death and his slow departure from public life were so strange. I recently had to head to the

Pacific Northwest to help go through a few things he had. He lived super minimalist up to the day he died, so it wasn't a difficult process, but I ended up with his journal and it's insane.

I guess that originated from YouTube based on the things he stated, yet there's no trace of it.

I don't understand what any of this means. I decided to transcribe it to a document here, so it's easier to read and see if maybe some of you may know more about this than I do. 1114-2020, 2015-PM. Valerie left today. It wasn't unexpected. I just have a hard time accepting it. We drifted. We grew distant. She grew unhappy. We tried to fix the issues, but it ended up pretty clear that neither of us really had to stock left in the relationship. I guess it sucks because we

still do have so much love for each other. You know, only two people step in a way just because they

know there will be better opportunities for us elsewhere. I almost wish we hated each other.

Nah, I don't mean that. It just meant it's just a nightmare. Seeing her stuff leave the apartment just kind of hit me differently. No matter how often we talked about it, it didn't get any easier.

“Life, huh? Hey, you know, I think I'll move my computer around and try and make myself busy and”

distracted for the rest of the day. 1128-2020-1144-PM. So, I have a new hobby. A weird one, I'll admit, but it does take me away from the rampaging rat race and overthinking about Valerie. She still wants to talk from time to time, but I don't think I'm there yet. I don't even a month has passed after all. Anyways, I started on this YouTube rabbit hole of old news shows. Started with me looking at those fins of anchors fucking up hilarious

layer, accidentally drawing dicks on the weather report. Yeah, all right, I laugh at dumb shit. Don't look at me like that. You're a notebook. Judge mental for an inanimate object, are you? It's good to laugh, though. I did find this super weird channel called Channel 14, though.

“I think it's a Middle Eastern newsroom, maybe F. Gany? I have to admit, I'm too uneducated to”

know for sure, but the thing about it is that the anchors have English names, despite looking very Middle Eastern, and the whole thing being in their native tongue. Seth and Oscar, I think. Some comments touched on that, but it was overshadowed by the subject matter. They would be talking about pretty normal news stuff, and all of a sudden say strange things, like he will chop again, and other references to him. Now, I know that was just the subtitles and

anyone could have edited that way, but I'll have to keep checking it out to see if anyone's speaking the native tongue confirms or denies it. 1202-2020-106-PM. Talk to my sister today, it was nice. Been a year or so since we've chatted, nothing too deep, but it was good to catch up. I miss you Marcy, glad you're making mad money lately. Guess I haven't been doing too bad on that

front either. Not nearly as good as her, but I truly never thought I'd make enough to afford an

“apartment out here by myself. Blue collar work is rough, but damn, does it line your pockets?”

Oh, something super cool that Channel 14 I found on YouTube is putting stuff out every two weeks. Same old news shows, same old weird comments. Someone did confirm that it was Egyptian, which I think is rad. Don't know enough about Egypt, I dare say. Can't wait to see more. 1217-2020-1214-AM. This show is a fucking trip, dude. It's grown on me in a way I couldn't have expected. My day pretty much consists of working for seven or eight hours, then making my way to the

computer. And every two weeks I'm greeted with a new installment of Channel 14. This time Seth began accusing Oscar of sleeping with his wife in the middle of telling local stories. Was weirdly seamless. Both Oscars retorts, as well as Seth's accusations, seemed to be mixed within the actual news delivered. Seth would say, "For dead from car explosion, just like how you exploded my marriage, Oscar?" And Oscar would reply, "What a tragedy,

similar to that sham you call a marriage." Who's fucking bizarre? Like, this has to be a

getting a kick out of it. I enjoy small communities like that, where we can ramble together about

“the little niche thing we've got going on for us. It's been a nice distraction.”

Work is fine, too. But not exactly enjoyable. My body hurts, and I barely have the energy to go out after I'm done. I mean, don't get me wrong. I'm glad I'm getting some sort of workout, but I don't know. I'm just worried vomiting at this point. 1222-2023-11pm. It's three days until Christmas.

First one in two years, I'll be spending alone. I thought about wishing Valerie a married Christmas,

since she even initiated the idea that we start talking again. I really want to, considering I had her gift planned out and everything. It just seems like I might end up rubbing salt in my own wounds, however. I'm not super interested in any unnecessary hurt. Truth is, I should be real with you, judgmental journal. I'm not doing great. I'm not bad. No, I wouldn't say that. I just fill on me as fuck lately. Maybe if there was something else to do on Christmas, it might not be

so bad, but mom's place is a bit of a drive. Marci's halfway across the country. It's just

“a bummer. Nothing paned out the way I pictured it. I think I'll just work through this one.”

Next year will be better. 1231-2026-8pm. Christmas came and went in a fucking blink.

Now it's New Year's Eve. Woo! I'm gonna go out with some of the guys from work and get some drinks in me. It should be a good time. I didn't realize it's been two and a half months since I left my house for anything other than Erin's or work. Fuck. Man, that's depressing. I guess I've really only had my computer to keep me company. Oh, oh, about that, too. The newest installment of channel 14 dropped and it was, uh, fucked up. Like, pretty fucking upsetting. I know it's supposed to be

some sort of weird experimental show, but it really, really bugged me. It started normal enough.

“Seth and Oscar would talk about tragic events like homicide or terrorism with weird intermittent”

jobs at one another. It seemed like they were still talking about the affair that took place between Oscar and Seth's wife, but at one point they just set their papers down. They look dead at the camera. Both of them were smiling such an awful grin. Seth was the one who spoke. For the adulterous actions you have placed upon my sanction and the lack of remorse you showed me, I offer you not, but a decomposition of ruinous flavor. Your hedonism amalgamated with your

arrogance has wrought you nothing but the cleansiest and most dreadful of deaths. None of you shall be found in the wake of my vengeance. Brother, not a piece. The excruciation you will feel my hand bring down upon you will not be prevented by offering nor treaty. No and accept your black and fake. He spoke with such a nation and then they just looked at the camera. Motionless and staring with those over exaggerated grins. Freak to me the hell out. Like they were looking right at me,

expecting me to respond to him. And after a minute or so past they just started laughing. shoving each other like it had all been playful banter between the tool. I had so many fucking questions and it looked like the common section did too. Oscar and Seth were brothers. They didn't even look alike really. But fuck me if the worst part wasn't that he said the whole thing and clear

is day fucking English. You never spoken a word of it before, but just like dropped a poem about murder

like it was his first language. Eerie. But my fascination just runs deeper with each episode. Anyway, I gotta head out. Don't want to be late for my first human interaction in months. 1-1-20-21-905-AM. God, my head hurts. Who comes so late. Drank way too much last night. Shouldn't even be writing to you right now Mr. Journal. But something unbelievable happened last night. I went to Horace's and it was pretty packed. Me for a rundown dive with bad lighting and a

was New Year's Eve. Either way, I was there with Ben and Brandon from work waiting for everyone to show. And after they didn't for like 20 minutes I decided I'd go for thirds on my Moscow murals. Already feeling a little lighter due to the lack of drinking practice I've had made me think I was

“honestly and truly saying things. Had to have been. At the bar who hadn't been there 20 minutes”

prior was a man sitting there in a full suit. Like a fucking nice one, men's warehouse type shit. He had moose up black hair and a dark complexion to his skin. Probably Middle Eastern I assumed. When I reached the bar close enough to see his face, wouldn't you fucking believe it? He looked exactly like Seth from Channel 14. No fake, no shit judgment journal. This dude was the spitting image of the guy from the weird

spoof show I've been watching online. I tried not to stare but couldn't help but react to it internally. I ordered my drink, keeping my gaze to the bartender working on my beverage,

“but from my periphery I could see his head turning towards me. People watching isn't exactly”

an uncommon thing in bars but the speed it lacked, the sluggish twist of his neck to look at the

side of my head was unbearably unnerving. I felt myself swallow my spit back as he finally was fully

turned to look at me. I decided it was unavoidable to acknowledge him. So I turned to face him with my best happy New Year's smile. He was already smiling. That same Nightmarish Granite scene after Seth's rant on Channel 14. I gulp to one's more holding my composure as best I could. I spoke first. Happy New Year's, man. Hope you're having a good one. My voice was shaky in week. The resemblance, his mannerisms, they were all the same.

We started to freak me the fuck out. He didn't say anything at all. At all. He just looked at me all the same. His toothy smile impossibly stretched from ear to ear. When the bartender handed me my drink I turned as quickly as I could to walk away. When I was about halfway back to Ben and Brandon,

the Seth looked like finally responded to me. My brother is having a new baby. It took

a good day. Such a happy day. I turned back in shock to see that his back was to me once more. His hands pulling a drink to his mouth. I didn't waste time staring. I just walked over to our table and pretended like nothing had even happened. I don't even know what I'd say. Hey guys, a character from a thriller spoof new show on YouTube is over there and he said some rather normal shit to me. Dumb, weird, freaky. It's likely just a coincidence, but one on that level would

rattle anyone, especially considered that he just called Oscar his brother during his rant. I guess I should go to work now. Thanks for listening, paper friend.

“103 2021 545 PM. I think I should maybe chill on that show.”

First off, I could binge it, then I'd have a bunch of entertainment lined up for me for a couple

of months down the road. And also, I've been seeing the number 14 everywhere. My orders at work, every time I look at the clock, my eyes instinctively draw to it whenever it's near. I'm sure I've just scared myself stupid, but hey, and after New Year's I'm a bit shaken. And that's about it for today. Sorry the past few days have been fucked up, journal. I'll give you some positivity here soon. 1 7 2021 257 PM. I talked to Valerie today. It was okay. We realized pretty quickly we didn't

know what to say to each other. Talked about weather and work as if that's really talking at all. More just fill in the air with noise. I kept waiting for either one of us to blow up an anger or confession of feelings or, but our interaction just remains so gray and dull. It's like watching a flower wilt. Something so passionate and blossoming into a great beauty didn't get watered enough, and it just dried to a dirty fucking weed. What garbage poetry that was, how journal?

I guess to tell the truth, I'm just still not over her. I haven't made much of an effort to get over

her, so I don't know what I was expecting. I love Valerie. I wish we could have figured it out. I wish I could have been bravering, spoken up that I feel that way. Doesn't matter now though. Turns out she's moving to Pennsylvania.

“I'm just lamenting at this point. Broke my promise about positivity, didn't I?”

1-14-2021-248-AM. I'm fucking done with Channel 14. I'm still putting together whatever it was I just fucking heard and watched. The comments say I'm not the only one who feels this way, too. People are getting freaked the fuck out and I don't fucking blame them. They just don't know how personal this one felt for me. The episode started out weird, no intro, and more noticeable, no Oscar. No episode prior had not included Oscar, and after all the threats made by Seth,

it felt like maybe he'd actually done away with him. Just a lone Seth smoking a cigarette with his

hand running through his hair. He looks tired and frustrated. A female voice started talking first

from off-screen, as she sounded like either the director or camera woman, but we couldn't see her, so who knows? The subtitles read things about Seth pulling his shit together and not smoking on Seth. She was yelling at Seth for a good 30 seconds before he finally started barking back. Cut the fucking shit, Steph dumb traitorous cunt. He spoke again in English and with violence in his voice. Fuck my brother, fuck you, and fuck that fucking parasite in your fucking stomach.

At this point a few things became apparent to me, that whoever he called Steph was likely Seth's wife. That his outburst was due to the adultery she committed against him with his brother Oscar. And what the fucking look alike in the bar said. My brother is having a baby. Before I had a chance to even process that connection, Seth continued. For fucking what exactly,

“some successor to his work, what the fuck about my work? Am I just a locus to you?”

I'll hurt him. I swear I'll fucking abuse that fucking cancer growing in your fat ugly fucking stomach. Steph attempted to calm him down from there, but Seth was having none of it.

He froze for just a second before he began again.

Jackal child, jackal child, fester in your womb, jackal child, jackal child, it's father in his tomb. It was angry, but sing song a purposeful rhyme. He kept going. Jackal child, jackal child, birthright of a whore. Jackal child, jackal child, pieces of daddy more. So at this point I was actually not entirely turned off from the show.

“A plot never heard anything if it was intriguing enough, right?”

But what turned me off, what made me go fuck this forever was the very ending. Where Seth turned away from looking at the off screen woman to write into the camera and yelled, "What the fuck are you looking at, Anthony?" My heart dropped into my fucking gut, and I almost fell over when I stood up from shock. I mean, that's not possible, right? Right? Like, how the hell would it know my name?

A granted, they had rather English names themselves, so like, did they just mean another Anthony? Why didn't fucking care? It was too weird, too coincidental. I don't know. I don't think I'll be turning on my computer anytime soon. 118-2021-941-PM. I took the day off today.

Everything that has happened lately has made me feel completely wiped out. Three days of consecutive work after all the conspiracies in my head and the press of thoughts of Valerie was not a good idea. I should have taken a few days from my mental health. Been would have understood. I caught up with Mom and Marcy and just let myself remember there were people who loved me.

I, well today, removed myself from technology and drank a lot of water.

normal and not paranoid person. I'm almost 100% sure I was reading way too deep into everything.

I handful of coincidences and I'm pushed over the deep end into conspiracy land. And that's not who I want to be. Whoever was at the bar was probably just a happy uncle. I immediately profiled in based on his looks and didn't make any attempt to get to know him better. The show was using a ton of English names and Anthony isn't exactly an uncommon one.

I let myself piece together some awful plot written against me and do the fuck am I to

“even think I'm important enough for something like that?”

You know, I don't like how I said that. I mean, I know I'm important, but I'm not globally important. That line of humility and self-deprecation is surprisingly narrow. But what I'm saying is, I let a spooky online show get me in my own head and

yeah, maybe I should just take a break from it.

Took me long enough to even realize it was some sort of thriller to begin with. It did its job well and it scared the hell out of me. Marcy recommended I look into getting 5HTP and Ashwaganda as mood levelers. But I guess 5HTP can make you a bit drowsy though and I definitely don't need anything else to make me sleep. I didn't tell her about all the weird spooky shit, but

she's worried I may be in a lower mental state than even I realized due to Valerie's absence. She's probably right. She usually is, you know, definitely miss her. Maybe I want to talk to Valerie again soon. If I can step out of this funk then perhaps our conversations will contain a bit more substance. You know, I might live a boring life, but that doesn't mean I have to be a boring person.

I'll figure it out. Told you there'd be positivity journal. Only way to go from here is up. 1, 22, 2021. Just got done speaking with Officer Burdette. Said he and the other two officers didn't find anything.

“I think that's fucking bullshit, but what the fuck ever.”

He told me they'd keep a patrol nearby to see if whoever that was comes back. So I guess that's minor comfort. Still, something feels so wrong about this scenario. The past few days have been good journal. Until today, I've been sleeping better and removing myself from screams has been a healthy change.

When I think I could get used to. Work has been somewhat easier as I've seen my palette building ability grow into something more. Useable. So it's been decent. And today started no different from that. It had been a normal work day.

I got lunch with Brandon and he told me he thought I was improving and saw me moving up in a year or two. Good news from anyone's perspective, really.

“I got home around, I don't know, 730, little later than usual, I'd say.”

Listen to some podcasts while I made grilled cheese and tomato soup. The moment I sat down to start eating though, there was a quiet knock at my door. And this isn't super typical. As the last time the landlord came by was over four months ago. But I figured he was probably due and he was aware of roughly when I'd be home.

When I stood up to go to the door, they knocked again. This time it was a little harder. I was getting up to answer the door with the hell were they so impatient for. I'm coming, hold on. I said, shake in my head and irritation.

After my words, they knocked a third fucking time.

And this time it was hard enough to shake the walls of my apartment complex. So hard, in fact, that I heard a fourth knock from my neighbor with a consecutive yell to keep it down. But at this point, there was no way in hell I was going to open the door or even answer it. I mean, if it was the police, they would have announced themselves. I figured to myself.

So I tiptoed over to the door and gathered my resolve just to look through the eyehole. Who I saw, who stood there, I swear on my life, was fucking Oscar from Channel 14. I tried to catch my now deafening and scared breath while I observed the fucking impossible standing a few centimeters from my door. He looked ragged, his clothes were torn and frayed with even an entire sleeve missing.

And he was crying, hard, absolutely bawling, but keeping his eyes fixated on the door. On his exposed arm and on his forehead and neck, there were suture marks. Clear evidence that those parts had been reattached. I could feel my eyes shaking from terror at what was looking back at me through my door.

I was frozen just watching, he nailed me inside Anthony, they had to find me.

I love them so much for that. Again, my fucking name, this was not happening. It had to be paranoid delusion. Yeah, I mean that's all it was, we had a fucking had to be. He's mad at you too, Anthony.

“My stupor was broken at this point, but that was he talking about, who was mad at me?”

Did he mean Seth? He doesn't like spectators, I'll be okay, my kingdom my own, I'll be okay, Anthony. My son will be okay too, he doesn't like people watching Anthony, only his conspirators, Anthony.

He began to jiggle the door knob, every second it increased in intensity.

Let me in, Anthony, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry you had to know, let me in, Anthony, I'm sorry! His words had such velocity to them, despite the sadness they carried and it felt as if whoever, whatever this was, had no idea how to be human. He was rattling the doors so hard at this point that I was shocked my neighbors hadn't yelled again. You know, now that I think about it, it was deathly silent besides his erratic behavior.

You know, I didn't dwell on it long before I ran to my phone, intent on contacting the authorities. And I could barely hear the operator because when she answered, he started up again.

Be my alter, Anthony, let me in, I need you, be my alter!

I sat discomforted on my couch staring at the door shaking while I waited for the police to arrive. The walls shook and my heart pounded in my ears trying to understand the situation.

“Why wasn't anyone in my complex angry at this anymore? What the actual fuck was happening?”

There was only a few minutes before I heard the sirens of police cruisers roar in the distance. And once their blaring began, the shaking stopped in its entirety. I could hear the rumble of footfalls from my upstairs neighbors. I could hear a TV from a thin wall to my right. All the sound had flooded back.

You know, I still have a hard time believing any of it was real. Whatever is happening with Channel 14 makes no fucking sense. And I don't know why anyone in the right fucking mind would create a prank like this. I'm tired, I'm frightened, and frankly, I'm pissed right the fuck off. 128, 2021, 509 p.m.

“I don't know what to do. I tried to call mom and marshy again, but they didn't answer today.”

I'm sure they'll call back soon, but I don't know what to tell them. On one hand, I'm almost positive. They'll have me institutionalized, which I don't was welcome at this point. On the other hand, I don't know if it had even helped me. I'm not someone who wholly believes in ghosts or demons, but after the bar, after the break in attempt, and now today, I am at an utter and complete loss as to what to think.

Today was, of course, the release of the newest episode of Channel 14. I made no such effort to watch it, but the world apparently had different plans for me. I was home today. As I have no idea how long it's going to take me to mentally repair myself enough in order to feel comfortable returning to work. So when they're reading on my couch, when I get this weird gut feeling, sort of like a stomach ache, but a bit hazyer, it was strange and impossible not to address.

So as I stand up to head to the bathroom, my TV just fucking turns on without warning. And if that wasn't distressing enough, it was already displaying the newest episode of Channel 14, something that wasn't possible from anywhere besides my computer, since I had no access to YouTube via my living room TV. So I'm frozen in a position of about to stand up while I stared at the screen in fear. I saw neither Oscar nor Seth on the screen. Instead, they were two

women standing in business suits and holding hands, and they looked distraught and saw them,

glancing away as if they were uncomfortable looking at it. As I expect them to start talking and

“akin to the other time someone on this haunted show said something fucked up, but they didn't.”

They just fought against their urges to look away from the camera. And behind them was the

desk that Oscar and Seth always said, "I'm baffled as hell this is happening, but they were just

there." And if it wasn't for their shift-y eyes, it would have been easy to mistake for just Ily. And I was still image. And I didn't notice it at first, since not much on the screen had changed, but the camera was zooming in. So slowly it didn't register until the camera was almost right next to the two women. I thought it was zooming in closer to their faces at first, but it quickly became apparent that wasn't the focus. It was focusing on the desk behind them,

which sat clear and empty. And once it was centered perfectly between both of their arms and fixated on the desk up close, a ragged hand slammed on top of the desk from below. I skeleton nearly jumped out of my body at scared me so fucking bad. The body it was attached to creeped up from behind the desk as well, revealing just the eyes of Oscar. They were yellowed as if they had been jaundiced and looked even more sunken and

tear-stained than when I saw his image over a week ago standing outside my home. His skin was graying. And it looked like he was about to kill over and turn into a pile of ashes. I mean it was awful. One of the worst human forms I've ever seen. He reached with the same hand towards the camera and let out a low moan, making him not only

look but sound like death itself. It was at this moment the women finally spoke and they did

so in English and in unison. Lover, brother and altar is needed. One kingdom, one king, rebirth once so it will be again. One kingdom, one king, a phallic sacrifice to allow the reversion, one kingdom, one king. Ben, the feed cut out in my TV turned off. I'm embarrassed to admit this but I was so confused by the notion of a phallic sacrifice that I hadn't truly processed all that had happened. I'm fucking terrified. I understand none of this.

All I know is a you and me journal. We are getting the fuck outta here. 130, 2021, 104, PM.

“Two days free of all this weirdness. Who must be a record?”

I finally got hold of mom. Try to see if I could come stay with her for a couple of days. Turns out she's not going to have any free time until around Valentine's Day. I don't really have any interest in waiting that long to see her or getting a fuck out of this place but so be it. I don't really want to be in town for Valentine's anyway. But through all of this shit, I really wish I had Valerie by my side. She made me strong.

I miss her. Two, two, twenty, twenty, one, three, fourteen, PM. Guess I'm out of a job. Took too much time off and Ben couldn't really pull any strings for me anymore. It's fine. Nothing too serious. I've got money put aside for a day and

“I'm sure people are hiring nearby. Just keeps pion on, doesn't it?”

I keep seeing that fucking number fourteen everywhere. I keep thinking about Valerie. I'm so sick of being paranoid. I'm so tired. I'm so fucking tired.

I don't consider myself an amazing person by any stretch of the imagination.

Truly, I often find myself feeling like I take up space rather than doing anything else. Fuck, I hate these thoughts. So fucking much. But here I am. Put them into this journal. I've personified, so I don't feel half this fucking lonely. I'm a wreck. This is eaten away at the healthiest parts of my brain and I'm at a loss

days to dwell in all that before that's happened and walk. There's one more episode of that

“a cursed shit that might pop up on my windows at this point. I've lost everything and I fucking”

hate being a walking pity party but I feel like shit and I just want to feel happy again. Please just let this have a happy ending. 2-11-20-21-7-14-PM. It happened again, showed right up on my TV without prompting and without

power. I didn't even react this time. I'm so numb that I can't even process my own fear.

Like, who gives a shit at this point? Plus, it wasn't even that big of deal this time. I'll be away from it in three days and it feels like it's over at least it's wrapping up.

“Should I bow? Leave them a review? Sure, it was elaborate if not threatening and terrifying”

for the past couple months. It was just a shot of the newsroom. 20 straight minutes of what might as well have been dead air. No decaying Oscar, no yelling Seth, no cryptic, pregnant women making comments about of kings or whatever. Does it lack a sleep impact how much you care about shit? Because I don't care anymore. I lost everything because I let myself get fixated on this freaky show shit. Made me see shit outside my house. It probably wasn't even there.

Made me lose my wits to the point I lose in my fucking job. Only thing it didn't make me lose was Valerie. That's all I can manage to care about. That my distance and my inability to communicate my genuine feelings cost me the best relationship

by very well may ever have. It sucks, man. It fucking sucks to finally look in the mirror and

recognize the bags under your eyes. The complete death of your own passion and strength to commit. She hasn't talked to me. I haven't reached out either because big surprise I couldn't bring myself too. I lost Valerie all on my fucking own. I can finally accept that. It doesn't make me feel any better but at least I can see the truth now. Got to go journal. Someone's at the door and won't stop knocking. Maybe it's Oscar again. Ooh or maybe it's Seth this time.

Fuck it. Let it be both. Who gives a shit? 14 14 14 14 14 14 14. I am Abados. I am the altar. Be reborn from me. One kingdom. One King. Death of disorder. Birth of a King. Be reborn from me. One kingdom. One King. One King. This has shaken me to my core. Anthony was found dead in his apartment two days after the last

awful entry. He was determined to have blood out with his genitals removed. They said it was self-inflicted and when they entered the apartment he was just sitting on the couch staring right at his TV. Even post-mortem. As I've said before, any searches for this channel 14 have come up with nothing like this. I have more research to do on the whole thing but my heart is broken

“and I don't know what to make of any of it. The only thing I found that I couldn't easily transcribe”

here was an image at the bottom of the last entry, a depiction of a tall or knee, jackal.

but I just want to say thank you for listening for 15 years. Back when I started doing this I didn't

“even think this was like a job you could do and now it's how I make my living and I couldn't do that”

if it wasn't for you guys. I know sometimes the podcast has had its ups and downs over the years and things might have been confusing if you don't know what was going on in the background

but really it's not an exaggeration to say that we do this because you guys listen.

We have so many people who contribute to the show from the authors who share their stories with us

“to the voice actors who read them and brand and who makes the music, the producers who make us all”

sound good, the artists who do the covers, our editors, our social media team, so from all of us

that know sleep, thanks for sticking with us. Here's to another 15 years in which I will presumably

crumble into dust. Until next time, I've been Jessica McAvoy, thanks for listening to the No Sleep podcast.

“As our stories sink beneath the waves we claw our way back on to dry land. Join us again next time”

when we plunge into the chilling depths where water hides its darkest secrets. The No Sleep podcast is presented by creative reason media. The musical scores are composed by Brandon Boone. Our production team is Phil Michaelski, Jeff Clement, Jesse Cornett, and Claudius Moore. Our editorial team is Jessica McAvoy, Ashley McAnelly, Ollie A. White, and Kristen Samito. I'm your host and executive producer, David Cummings.

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