S22 Ep7: NoSleep Podcast S22E07

The No Sleep Podcast is brought to you by Progressive Insurance.

Fiscally responsible, financial geniuses, monetary magicians.

These are things people say about drivers who switch their car insurance to Progressive and save hundreds.

Because Progressive offers discounts for paying in full, owning a home, and more.

Plus, you can count on their great customer service to help you when you need it, so your dollar goes a long way.

Visit progressive.com to see if you could save on car insurance.

Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and affiliates.

Potential savings will vary, not available in all states or situations.

They're calling you.

The phone is ringing.

A message from an unknown caller.

A voice unrecognizable.

Audio messages from the shadows.

But one message is clear.

And it says:

brace yourself for the No Sleep podcast.

Yes, I can tell by the look in your eyes,

you're terrified.

You've seen something,

haven't you?

It doesn't seem all that bad now, does it?

it?

Hello, stranger.

We're glad you've joined us here at the No Sleep Podcast.

I'm David Cummings, the host.

And you are?

Oh, a quiet one, eh?

Well, come on in and meet all the other strangers here.

Talk amongst yourselves.

Get to know each other.

Now, after hearing that, how do you feel?

If you're like a lot of people, the scenario where you're in a room full of strangers and expected to interact with them is rather nightmarish.

Yes, it seems that social anxiety disorder is a very common condition these days.

We just don't seem to like being around people we don't know.

And speaking with them, oh, that's enough to make you run screaming into the night.

And in the world of horror, aren't strangers such delightful sources of terror?

I can only assume it touches on the universal fear of the unknown.

We don't know that person, that thing, so how do we know whether or not they're friend or foe?

Has social media turned us this way, the pandemic?

Or has it been years and years of horror movies and stories where no matter how nice they seem at first, some stranger ends up being a horrifying villain ready to slice and dice their way through your body.

Your body which is now full of regret for trusting that damned stranger.

Ah, we'll never know.

On this episode, we present you with tales in which people encounter strangers.

But don't let these tales deter you.

There really are nice people out there.

Don't be so afraid to talk with them.

And if your phone rings, don't be afraid to answer it.

Because as I like to say, do you dare pick up your phone and listen to the voices calling to you?

The No Sleep Podcast is brought to you by Progressive Insurance.

Fiscally responsible.

Financial geniuses.

Monetary magicians.

These are things people say about drivers who switch their car insurance to Progressive and save hundreds.

Because Progressive offers discounts for paying in full, owning a home, and more.

Plus, you can count on their great customer service to help you when you need it.

So your dollar goes a long way.

Visit progressive.com to see if you could save on car insurance.

Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and affiliates.

Potential savings will vary.

Not available in all states or situations.

The wait is over.

The next up live music finals are here.

On September 26th, TikTok Live and iHeartRadio bring you the biggest night in live music discovery.

Streaming live from the legendary iHeartRadio Theater in LA.

The top 12 artists you've been following will take the spotlight for one final career-defining performance.

Judged by music gurus and industry powerhouses.

Tom Pullman, chief programming officer at iHeartMedia.

Beata Murphy, program director of 102.7 Kiss FM.

Justina Valentine from MTV's Wild and Out.

And viral guitarist John Dretto.

Hosted by iHeartRadio's JoJo Wright and EJ.

This is the ultimate showdown.

The judges will crown the next up live music winner and you have the power to decide who takes home the People's Choice Award.

Don't miss a second.

Follow along at TikTok Live underscore US.

And be there live, September 26, 7 to 9 p.m.

Pacific.

Together, let's witness the dawning of the next music superstar.

Only on TikTok Live.

In our first tale, we follow the life of Daniel, who has been tormented by something mysterious visiting him most of his life.

And every time it happens, another part of his body loses mobility.

But in this tale, shared with us by author Michael Paul Kozlowski, Daniel is forced to try harder and harder to rid himself of this torment.

Performing this tale is Peter Lewis.

So, best keep the lights on because in the dark there is a hand.

In the dark there is a hand.

It is floating in the center of a pitch-black room.

The hand is bright white as if made of moonlight.

The fingers are long and end in a point.

There is no detail to the hand.

It is a shining void.

Daniel is 13 years old and in the grips of sleep paralysis as he watches the hand hovering before him.

He sleeps with his door closed, his windows hidden behind blackout curtains.

There is no nightlight, no glow from a screen or clock.

Total darkness.

The hand, though completely still, is moving very slowly toward him.

In the dark, Daniel can't tell if there's something attached at the wrist, some midnight figure reaching for him.

He can't move.

He can't scream.

He tells himself this is a dream, a nightmare, but he knows this is not true.

He feels the cold sweat breaking out across his body, the slow suffocation of a peaceful existence.

There isn't a sound in the room.

The hand takes all.

It is closer now, just above his bed.

Though there is no weight bearing down on him, no indentations in the mattress or ruffling of his covers.

Slowly, the hand descends until it is hovering just above his right thigh, an agonizing moment that stretches far too long.

And then, finally, the hand touches his leg.

And Daniel instantly falls asleep.

Hours later, when he wakes up, he is nearly forgotten about the encounter.

That is, until he tries to jump out of bed and falls straight to the floor.

His leg, his right leg, is stiff.

He can't move it at all.

He pinches it, punches it, shakes it, but there is no feeling.

Horrified, he cries out for his mother.

A frantic day ensues.

His parents are making phone calls.

They take him to doctors, but nobody can make any sense of it.

By the evening, an appointment is made with a neurologist.

Perhaps the issue has to do with his brain, they think.

Daniel can see the doctor first thing in the morning.

He just has to wait one more night.

In the dark, there is a hand.

It is floating in the center of his pitch-black room.

The hand is bright white, as if made of moonlight.

The fingers are long and end in a point.

There is no detail to the hand.

It is a shining void.

Once again, Daniel cannot move.

He cannot scream, though he desperately wishes to.

He didn't tell his parents about the hand.

He didn't think they would believe him.

He thought they would say it was just a dream.

Just a dream.

The hand moves toward him, a slow glide, and when it reaches the bed, it hovers just as it did the night previous, only this time it rests just above his left thigh.

Daniel knows what is going to happen, and he can't do a thing about it.

His eyes are wide in terror, a scream spiking in his dry throat as the hand descends, wrapping its long fingers around his leg and taking,

taking.

Six years pass.

Daniel is paralyzed from the waist down.

Doctors are mystified.

Diseases are named, obscure ailments, but nothing fits.

Not exactly.

Daniel tells his parents about the hand, but they don't believe him.

They think it is a way the brain is processing what has happened to him.

But for six years, Daniel has slept with the lights on, and for six years, the hand hasn't returned.

He's learned to make the best of his life.

The light, he knows, will save him.

In the dark, there is a hand.

It is floating in the center of his pitch-black room.

The hand is bright white, as if made of moonlight.

The fingers are long and end in a point.

There is no detail to the hand.

It is a shining void.

Daniel is 19 years old and in the grips of sleep paralysis as he realizes a storm is raging outside and the house's power has died, killing the lights along with something inside him.

The hand has been waiting for this.

Daniel can tell.

It almost seems...

hungry.

There is an added twitch to the fingers now as as it approaches.

Yet it moves more slowly than ever, as if savoring the moment, as if basking in Daniel's torment, and the tightness of his body, the popping strain of his neck, and the screams that can't escape.

Daniel searches for the outline of a body, the contours of an arm attached to the white glow.

He almost convinces himself he sees a figure, blacker than black, darker than dark.

The hand reaches the bed, floating past his useless legs, past his churning stomach.

It hovers over his chest and then his throat, and gradually begins to descend.

Its fingers stretch.

The hand is wide now, like a maw, and it comes down just above Daniel's shoulder and wraps its long fingers around the base of his neck, meeting at the back.

That's when Daniel loses consciousness.

When he wakes in the morning, he cannot move.

Not his legs, not his arms, not his body.

He can only scream.

Decades pass.

Daniel is paralyzed from the neck down and full of nightmares.

His parents have died, suddenly and tragically, and left him all their wealth.

His first purchase is the best generator money can buy.

From that day forward, the lights are always on.

Not even a storm can extinguish them now.

The hand, he is sure, will never finish him.

He has a full-time nurse who helps him throughout the day.

They have a wonderful relationship.

though he never explains why the lights must stay on, even at night.

Eventually, however, the woman's husband lands a new job across the country and she must leave.

She trains the new nurse well, though not well enough.

One evening, Daniel falls asleep in his bed much earlier than usual, and without thinking twice, the new nurse tucks him in and turns off the light on her way out.

In the dark, there is a hand.

It is floating in the center of his pitch-black room.

The hand is bright white, as if made of moonlight.

The fingers are long and end in a point.

There is no detail to the hand.

It is a shining void.

Daniel is 48 years old and in the grips of sleep paralysis when he realizes a mistake has been made.

Human error.

He knows now that he will never escape, that he will never be rid of the hand.

It comes for him, hovering above the bed like a dangling spider.

It hasn't changed a bit, but even without eyes, it seems to look at him, hesitating, as if it's unsure Daniel's the same man from all those years ago.

But eventually, it's moving again, up past his chest and neck, floating just inches from his face.

Once again, Daniel wishes to scream, and it's not until the hand drops and covers his mouth that the scream becomes lodged within his head for the rest of his days, echoing like that very worst of memories that will never fade.

In the morning, Daniel can only blink.

Many years pass.

Daniel is an old man now.

He He has spent years developing a method to communicate with his nurse by painstakingly blinking the alphabet.

Eventually, she understands everything he says.

For the rest of his life, Daniel hunts for a way to destroy the hand.

He researches it endlessly, what the hand might be, how he might stop it.

Until one day, when he has gathered every bit of information he can use, when he has exhausted every single resource available to him, and the way out becomes clear.

Finally, when there is nothing left to prepare, after the nurse tucks him into bed on the night he had been waiting an entire lifetime for, he blinks for her to leave the room and to turn off the light.

In the dark, there is a hand.

It is floating in the center of his pitch-black room.

The hand is bright white, as if made of moonlight.

The fingers are long and end in a point.

There is no detail to the hand.

It is

a shining void.

Daniel is 71 years old and completely paralyzed.

The dark and the hand within it has come for him, but this time he is not scared.

He has no urge to scream, not until he's one.

In the two corners of the room, adjacent to him, are a pair of armed former soldiers wearing infrared goggles.

Attached to the ceiling and ready to drop at the press of a button is an electromagnetic containment chamber outfitted with several 8,000k light bulbs.

It was the light, Daniel knew, that would defeat the hand.

Because he cannot move or even speak, it is up to the soldiers to drop the chamber onto the hand and whatever it is attached to.

But he hired the best of the best, and the chamber was constructed with top-of-the-line materials all built to his exact specifications, draining him of nearly all his money.

All for this moment, for an end to the darkness.

The hand is across the room, as if ripping through the darkness of one world and entering another.

Wait, he thinks.

Wait until it gets closer.

But as the hand nears, nothing happens.

The soldiers are silent.

They don't move.

And in that moment, Daniel knows that they, too, are paralyzed.

But not like he is.

He had been paralyzed so long, he forgot about the sleep paralysis.

If he could look over, He is sure he would see their bodies locked up, their eyes open in terror beneath their goggles, their guns useless in their laps.

The button that his entire plan rested upon, unpressed.

The electromagnetic light chamber never falls, and the hand, triumphant, continues to hover.

It hovers right over Daniel's face, palm open, a horrid taunt.

The hand is a blazing white sun, and he stares deep into the pale void of its being.

And for a fleeting handful of seconds in which he feels his eyes burn, he sees another world.

A world of unimaginably grotesque creatures of immense size devouring whatever is in their paths.

A world with no sun, but a blood-red sky.

A world of bones and carcasses, of fire and torment, a world where souls break.

It is enough to make him weep with unfathomable fear.

Then, the glimpse is no more, and the hand lowers, covering his eyes, his face entire, and he can see nothing, hear nothing.

There is nothing,

and so it remains.

No longer does Daniel know if he is asleep or awake.

It is dark, always.

Everything he has tried to avoid in his lifetime has found him.

He strains to open his eyes, but can't.

The light refuses to creep in.

There is no light.

Not anymore.

He strains to scream, but his words are strangled.

He strains to hear, but there is no sound.

He strains to be,

but he cannot.

The hand has taken all.

His mind is nothing but a tormented and never-ending shriek.

His body nothing but a weak vibration.

But for Daniel, the very worst part of this nightmare is that he has no idea if the hand is there above him now, hovering inches from his face, floating there, with that world within its palm, waiting.

Yet in his heart he knows.

He knows the hand is there with him, for that's where it lives in the permanent darkness.

There is no escaping anymore.

Not for him.

In the dark, there is a hand.

The No Sleep Podcast is brought to you by Progressive Insurance.

Fiscally responsible, financial geniuses, monetary magicians.

These are things people say about drivers who switch their car insurance to Progressive and save hundreds.

Because Progressive offers discounts for paying in full, owning a home, and more.

Plus, you can count on their great customer service to help you when you need it, so your dollar goes a long way.

Visit progressive.com to see if you could save on car insurance.

Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and affiliates.

Potential savings will vary, not available in all states or situations.

The The wait is over.

Ladies and gentlemen, the next up live music finals are here.

On September 26th, TikTok Live and iHeartRadio bring you the biggest night in live music discovery.

Streaming live from the legendary iHeartRadio Theater in LA.

The top 12 artists you've been following will take the spotlight for one final career-defining performance.

Judged by music gurus and industry powerhouses.

Tom Pullman, chief programming officer at iHeartMedia.

Beata Murphy, program director of 102.7 Kiss FM.

Justina Valentine from MTV's Wild and Out.

And viral guitarist John Dretto.

Hosted by iHeartRadio's JoJo Wright and EJ.

This is the ultimate showdown.

The judges will crown the next up live music winner, and you have the power to decide who takes home the People's Choice Award.

Don't miss a second.

Follow along at TikTok Live underscore US.

And be there live, September 26, 7 to 9 p.m.

Pacific.

Together, let's witness the dawning of the next music superstar.

Only on TikTok Live.

How do you feel about hitchhikers?

When you see a person thumbing it by the side of the road, do you consider giving them a lift?

Or do you drive past the likely serial killer?

Well, in this tale, shared with us by author Caitlin Barbie, a woman is driving alone on a stormy night.

Surely she won't pick up a hitchhiker unless they were just a young woman.

Performing this tale are Nicole Doolin and Nicole Goodnight.

So do someone a favor if you like, but just say no if they're going to Benson Bridge.

Can I get a ride?

The soaked, shivering girl at my window bends low, her breasts nearly spilling out of her skimpy black top.

Please?

Freezing rain soaks into my sleeve and down my dress collar.

In the distance, thunder booms.

I don't remember when I rolled down my window.

What am I doing here this late in the middle of nowhere?

Out in a storm?

Ma'am?

The girl cocks her head.

Are you okay?

I relax my grip on the wheel and pop the lock on the door behind me.

I've always been scatterbrained, but tonight, I can't keep a single thought inside my head.

I'm so sorry, dear.

Hop in.

The leather seat speaks as she scoots across it.

Her fingers stretch along her shoulder, groping for something.

She chuckles and drops her hand.

I forgot these old cars don't have seatbelts.

Old?

She must be teasing.

My husband Roy bought the Packard last year brand new.

A top-of-the-line black and gold four-door sedan.

I let out the clutch and start down the road.

The rain lashing the windows lightens to a drizzle.

As it lets up, a heavy fog rolls in, blanketing the glistening asphalt.

Your costume's great.

I love Lucy, right?

It's the hair, isn't it?

I scrunch my red curls, grinning.

My husband says I look just like Lucille Ball.

I glance in the rearview mirror, watching as the girl adjusts the fluffy catiers of her orange headband that are part of her costume.

Though she isn't much older than my daughter Beverly, her hazel eyes are rimmed with too much mascara.

Her lips candy apple red.

Who let a 14-year-old out of the house dressed like this?

I shake my head.

She may not be my child, but I'll make sure she gets home safe.

Her parents must be worried sick.

My dear, do you live close by?

I do.

But

that's not where I need to go.

Then where?

She hugs herself.

Benson Bridge?

Benson Bridge.

I've never heard of Benson Bridge, and I've lived in Morton my entire life.

Still, an eerie familiarity of the name crawls along my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps.

What are the crossroads?

I don't know, actually.

We just moved here.

I think it's the big one on the other side of town, maybe?

Across the river?

Oh, you mean Dawes Bridge?

She shrugs.

If you say so.

What exactly are you going to do there?

It's stupid.

Try me.

A couple girls at school dared me to go there with them.

We were supposed to meet at the park, but they never showed.

Then it started to rain, so I left.

They said people die on the bridge sometimes.

Then if you see headlights while walking across it, you're doomed to join them.

Dawes Bridge haunted?

I'm afraid your friends are pulling your leg, dear.

No one's ever died on Dawes Bridge.

There aren't any ghosts.

Should have known it was fake when Amy and Stephanie didn't show.

But I can still take you home.

Where do you live?

Do you know Crimson Street?

I do.

I live on Crimson, actually.

Ah, guess that makes us neighbors, then?

I can't recall any of the houses being up for sale or any new families moving.

Not recently.

But I must have forgotten.

The sign for Benson Bridge, not Dawes Bridge, comes into view as I round the bend until the fog swallows us again.

We're close now.

A chill crawls up the back of my neck, raising hairs.

When did they change the name?

The girl coughs, nose wrinkling in the rearview mirror.

Is it just me, or does it stink out here?

I sniff.

The pungent rod of something decaying and waterlogged hangs in the air, but I can't place where I've smelled it before.

She lets out an odd little gasp.

Oh my god.

What's wrong, dear?

Your face.

The leather seat creaks as she slides away from me to the other side of the car.

You're bleeding.

What are you?

Then I feel it.

A slow, trickling warmth slithering down the side of my face.

My neck.

My dress.

Despite the fog, the faint outline of the bridge's metal trusses solidify.

I remember why the town changed the name to Benson Bridge.

I slam on the brakes and snap around to the girl, feeling the skin along my hairline peel away from bone.

Get out!

Out!

My decaying face is enough to frighten her.

She shrieks, throws open the door, and scrambles out.

The door bounces wide, then slams shut behind her.

I drive on, relieved.

Fate takes the wheel as I come onto the bridge now bearing a new name.

My name.

Headlights flash opposite me, then swerve toward my car, just as they did this day 32 years ago.

I over-correct to avoid the collision, the Packard screeching to the right.

It sails through the metal railing, then plunges into the freezing water below.

My eyes close, and a familiar peace settles over me.

As the Packard once again sinks to the river's bottom,

I cannot avoid replaying my fate.

But at least this year,

I do it alone.

The No Sleep Podcast is brought to you by Progressive Insurance.

Fiscally responsible, financial geniuses, monetary magicians.

These are things people say about drivers who switch their car insurance to Progressive and save hundreds.

Because Progressive offers discounts for paying in full, owning a home, and more.

Plus, you can count on their great customer service to help you when you need it, so your dollar goes a long way.

Visit progressive.com to see if you could save on car insurance.

Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and Affiliates.

Potential savings will vary.

Not available in all states or situations.

The wait is over.

Ladies and gentlemen, the next up live music finals are here.

On September 26th, TikTok Live and iHeartRadio bring you the biggest night in live music discovery.

Streaming live from the legendary iHeartRadio Theater in L.A.

The top 12 artists you've been following will take the spotlight for one final career-defining performance.

Judged by music gurus and industry powerhouses.

Tom Pullman, chief programming officer at iHeartMedia.

Beata Murphy, program director of 102.7 Kiss FM.

Justina Valentine from MTV's Wild and Out.

And viral guitarist John Dretto.

Hosted by iHeartRadio's Jojo Wright and EJ.

This is the ultimate showdown.

The judges will crown the next up live music winner and you have the power to decide who takes home the People's Choice Award.

Don't miss a second.

Follow along at TikTok Live underscore US.

And be there live, September 26, 7 to 9 p.m.

Pacific.

Together, let's witness the dawning of the next music superstar.

Only on TikTok Live.

If you're hardy enough to hike the Appalachian Trail, you'd better be with a buddy, like Mark and Todd.

They know what they're doing out there, or at least you'd hope they do.

But in this tale, shared with us by author Sean O'Loughlin, the guys soon realize they're lost.

So of course the best thing to do is go down a trail which is clearly one to avoid.

Performing this tale are Kyle Akers, Dan Zapoula, and Reagan Tacker.

So be smart when hiking, bring the right gear, keep your wits about you, and most of all, stay on trail.

Why is it red here?

I traced my finger along the lines on the map that was posted in a large glass case on the side of the trailhead.

Todd dropped his pack and joined me in front of the map display.

What are you talking about?

What's red?

He said it in a way that made me feel stupid for asking.

Right here.

The rest is blue.

See, the trail enters Pennsylvania here in the Delaware Water Gap.

And here's the area that we stayed last night.

I pointed out the spots along the map trail, trying to get my bearings.

This is where we are now.

Up ahead, there's a section of trail that's red.

It's only like a mile long.

Maybe it's closed.

Seriously?

You can't just close off part of the Appalachian Trail, can you?

Besides, this map looks like it's been here 30 years.

Just strange how it's only this one small section.

Todd leaned in to get a closer look at the map.

There's no key or anything?

Nothing that shows what the colors mean.

Maybe it links up with a private trail or something.

Maybe that's the AT Red Light District.

Guess we know where to set up camp tonight.

You are literally the only person whose mind would go straight to that thought.

Let me see if my book says anything.

I pulled a small Appalachian Trail guide out of my pack and flipped to the Pennsylvania section.

My eyes followed the little blue line from the east coast of the state, stopping at the little icon for the camping spot we had just left and finding our current location.

There,

about half a mile ahead of their location, the trail line turned red for a mile, then back to blue.

It's in red in here, too, but doesn't say why.

It's because that's where all the you-know-whats are.

I'm telling you, I've spent a lot more time out in the woods than you.

I know what I'm talking about.

You spent too much time out in the woods.

You're losing your mind.

Oh, come on, have a little fun for once.

It's probably just a steeper ridge or something, which is too bad because you really could use something to loosen up a little.

We're out here on an adventure, man.

Let yourself enjoy it.

Todd took the book from my hands and stuffed it back into my pack.

This is about freedom and forgetting that stupid job and.

I'll enjoy it when you stop telling me to.

I don't need your constant reminders that you took me out here to forget I was laid off.

And dumped.

And dumped.

Thanks.

That helps.

That's what I'm here for, buddy.

He punched my shoulder and headed back onto the trail.

I really was trying my best to enjoy the outdoor adventure with him.

He had convinced me to hike the north half of the Appalachian Trail to help me get over my recent bout of rotten luck.

I had been on plenty of camping and hiking trips, but the AT was next level.

Without Todd's outdoor expertise, I probably wouldn't have made it out of Massachusetts.

Unfortunately for everyone else on the trail, that expertise came with his excessively large personality and the maturity of a 14-year-old.

I hated to admit it to myself, but a little adventure was probably what I needed.

It was a good distraction, but I wasn't about to tell Todd that he was right.

We only got a few more miles before we hit the next shelter.

Hey, you remember that couple we met a few days ago, the nerdy guy and the girl with the blue hat?

They said they were gonna stay a few nights at that shelter.

They said they'd stick around until we got there, kind of like a human checkpoint.

They also said they'd have fireballs.

I remembered.

I remembered being jealous of how easy they made everything seem.

They acted like hiking the Appalachian Trail was just another Tuesday for them.

They seemed too positive, too optimistic.

I felt like they were throwing their expertise in my face.

Just like Todd did sometimes.

We continued our hike for about a half a mile.

Eventually, the trail took a sharp turn to the right and the width narrowed.

We approached a tight trailhead into a dense section of forest.

At the entrance, there was a chest-high sign that read, Next mile, no stopping, no camping, stay on trail.

I pulled out my trail guide again and traced along the lines of my finger, stopping where the line turned red.

This is it.

This is your red light district.

Is it everything you ever dreamed of?

Marky, you have no idea.

He pretended to slick his hair back and adjust an invisible necktie.

He took another look at the sign.

That's some serious shit.

It must be really rocky.

Think so?

It looks pretty narrow.

Is that normal?

Yeah, I've seen some trails like that.

You have to go single file.

I'll go first.

Todd started down the narrow trail, and I followed behind, scanning each inch of the ground to avoid any roots or loose stones.

The trail sloped upward, then leveled off.

On each side of the path was a steep hill speckled with dense, thorny bushes.

The temperature dropped a bit as we continued.

and I couldn't help but notice how quiet the woods had become.

Maybe it was because we had climbed to a higher elevation.

Maybe the thick, ancient trees around the trail blocked out the normal sounds of the forest.

I didn't hear any birds or insects, just the whistle of a light breeze that occasionally rushed by us, igniting the sweat on my back with an icy chill.

We came to a small clearing containing a flat boulder at the corner of a rather sharp turn in the path.

It was probably halfway through the red stretch of the trail and was just big enough for two people to stand on.

Approaching this boulder, we got a breathtaking view of a far-off mountain that could have been the cover of a coffee table book.

Oh my god.

Marky, give me my phone.

Todd, the sign said not to stop.

Dude, it means like stopping to eat or set up camp.

I just want to take a picture.

All right, real quick.

I unzipped the front pocket of Todd's pack, pulled out his phone, and handed it over to him.

Todd took a couple shots of the mountain, then motioned me over to him.

Hey, come here, get up close to me.

He put the phone out in front of him and pulled me in for a selfie with the mountain in the background.

We balanced near the edge of the narrow trail and grabbed a couple more shots before another gust of cool wind came up the hill from the side of the trail.

I lost my balance, and my foot slipped off the edge.

Out of instinct, I grabbed onto Todd's backpack, pulling him back and causing him to teeter as well.

My legs wobbled, and I felt a quick jolt of electricity run up my back, the paralyzing fear response to something you have no control over.

We tumbled over the side of the boulder and began rolling down the steep hill, smashing from sharp brambles and bouncing from the tree trunks.

I toppled over a log and flew a few feet into the air, crashing down hard on my shoulder, skidding the rest of the way until my momentum slowed.

I eventually stopped at a flat section of forest.

Wincing as a sharp pain shot through my shoulder and down my arm, I watched Todd come barreling down after me, his clumsy descent accented by the sounds of cracking sticks and tumbling pebbles.

He settled about 20 feet away from me.

We both groaned as we slowly pulled ourselves back up to our feet.

Todd wiped some blood off of his lip.

Jesus, you okay, man?

Yeah,

I think so.

I answered, not totally believing myself.

Just banged up.

Shit.

How far did we fall?

Todd rubbed his neck and grimace.

It had to have been at least 40 feet.

That was insane.

I can't believe we're okay.

40 feet?

I had no sense of those kinds of things.

For all I knew, it could have been three miles.

I turned to look back up the hill, but all I saw were trees.

There were no hills, just flat, dense wood that stretched on as far as I could see.

Hey, Todd.

He was trying to clean the dirt and mud off of his clothes.

Yeah, what's up?

Where's the trail?

It's at the top of the hill.

Right, but

where's the hill?

He turned to me with a confused look on his usually confident face.

The hill was gone.

The trail was gone.

There was nothing but trees and bushes in all directions, as far as the eye could see.

The forest looked wild and untouched.

There were no signs of anyone.

No broken branches or bushwhacked clearings.

No trail markers or graffiti carved into the bark of trees.

Just wilderness.

The most concerning thing that was missing was the noise.

The forest was dead quiet.

I couldn't hear anything other than the slight brushing of the leaves on tree branches as they slow danced with the wind.

I walked over to Todd.

You still got your phone?

No, I lost it somewhere up on the hill.

Damn it!

I pulled my own phone out of the bag and held it up, trying to find a signal.

It immediately showed a low battery battery notification and clicked off.

What the hell?

I charged this in town yesterday.

It should be good to go.

What about the backup GPS?

I pulled that out next.

That's dead too.

We took any other electronics we had in our packs to see if anything worked.

A couple of headlamps, a Bluetooth speaker, and an electric toothbrush, all with dead batteries.

As a last resort, I grabbed the emergency compass that Todd told me I should always bring with me when hiking.

I thought it was overkill to have a 50-cent compass when it was 20-24, and we literally carried supercomputers in our pockets, but Todd insisted, and I realized this is why.

I held out the compass and let the needle wiggle around until it stopped.

Okay,

so this is north, then.

The needle drifted about 85 degrees to the left.

No.

Wait, this is north.

I don't know how to use this fucking thing, Todd.

How does this work?

Let me see.

Todd took the compass and lined up the red end with the end of the arrow.

Okay, this is north.

We were traveling southwest on the trail, so if we head this way...

The needle shifted again.

And Todd readjusted his stance.

Then it shifted back the other way.

It's gotta be broken.

I sat down, frustrated.

It's a compass, it can't be broken.

It's like the simplest thing on the planet.

Maybe I need to find a flat surface.

Maybe I'm moving too much.

Uh, Todd?

Are there wolves in Pennsylvania?

Todd's face drooped, deepening the concern that was already present in it.

Um,

as far as I know, there aren't any in the eastern U.S.

anymore.

Maybe we should get going.

Yeah, yeah, good call.

I'm pretty sure I fell from this direction, so if we head that way, we'll have to get back to the trail, right?

He turned to his left and started walking into the seemingly endless forest.

Come on, it's got to be up this way.

As usual, I followed Todd.

For hours, we trudged through the forest,

crunching piles of dead leaves and sticks with each step.

I thought it was strange that there was so much detritus on the ground.

The trees seemed fully stocked with leaves, but they were dull and brown, displaying the dreary, dying foliage of late autumn after the leaf peepers had journeyed back into the city to hunker down for winter.

This was odd because it was August and the leaves in Pennsylvania should have been green and lush.

I noticed two trees to my right that bent towards each other and intertwined at their canopies.

forming what looked like an archway.

I tried to keep my eye ahead, following an invisible line through the trees to make sure we kept moving in the same direction.

But this natural archway pulled my eyes away from my imaginary footpath.

We walked in silence.

I tried to work out in my mind where we could be and how the hill could have vanished like that.

We must have gotten turned around after the fall and wandered away from it without realizing.

Todd no longer seemed to care how we lost our bearings.

He just seemed dead set on finding them again.

The silence between us soon began to feel heavy and intrusive.

I hoped that Todd would find a reason to break it.

Eventually, he did.

Hey,

do you hear that?

I listened for a second, trying to make out what he was referring to.

I don't hear anything.

Exactly.

No crickets, no birds, no wind,

nothing.

It's totally dead out here.

Any idea what time time it is?

I thought about it.

Well, we stopped to check the map around 11.30 and fell off the trail probably 15 minutes after that.

We've been walking a few hours, so

I guess it's probably close to 2 or 3 o'clock.

I was trying to ground myself with this answer.

The sun was low, and it felt much later, but I tried to stay logical.

Todd flipped his shirt collar up and gave a small shiver.

The sun looks like it'll be down soon.

It's too early for dusk.

We continued our journey through the labyrinth of the ancient dying trees.

My attention was grabbed by a rustling sound in a thorn bush to my left.

It was the first sound I'd heard in hours, apart from the crunching of leaves under our feet and our increasingly heavy breaths.

I snapped a look to the side to see what it was and noticed something familiar.

Two trees, leaning in towards each other, creating an organic archway.

The same exact archway I saw before.

I knew it was.

I had specifically noted the way the branches intertwined to create a perfectly symmetrical opening.

It was ominous, yet strangely welcoming.

Todd, look at that.

He stopped to look at the trees with feigned wonder.

Very cool.

Almost looks like an entrance to somewhere.

Dude, I saw those trees earlier.

The exact ones.

We're going in circles, man.

No way we're going in circles.

I have focused on one thing this entire time.

Walking in a straight line.

All the trees out here have twisted branches.

You must have seen some other ones.

Man, I'm telling you, I saw the exact archway of these trees on our right side about an hour ago.

Now they're on the left.

We've gotten turned around somehow.

Todd turned back to face me with an irritated glare.

Do you think I don't know what I'm doing?

I've spent more time out in the woods than you've spent in your mom's basement.

Do you really think I'd be dumb enough to guide us around in circles?

No, dude, chill.

Geez, I'm not saying that.

I'm just saying there's something weird about these woods.

There's nothing weird about these woods.

Woods are woods, trees, dirt, bushes.

If we keep going straight, we'll find a trail.

It's the goddamn AT.

We'll run into someone soon enough.

I sensed Todd's rising frustration and decided to keep my mouth shut.

I knew better than to poke the bear when he was on edge.

I followed behind him for another few minutes, but stopped when he suddenly dropped his pack.

Shit!

Todd kicked up leaves like they'd offended him.

What the hell?

What?

The trees, man.

The goddamn trees.

Back on our right side again was the archway.

I didn't know if I should be angry, relieved, or scared.

So I just stood there, frozen and confused.

We are going in circles.

But how?

How can that be possible?

Maybe we...

Mark, just shut up and give me a minute.

Todd held his hand up at me, and I turned away and pulled the pack off my back.

I may not have had much wilderness survival experience, but I sure as hell knew fighting wouldn't get us anywhere.

I pulled out my guidebook again, hoping to find something helpful in it.

Todd rolled his eyes when he saw this.

Dusk came upon us hours earlier than we expected, and a low fog rolled above the forest floor.

Todd took a long breath, gathering himself.

We better make camp for the night before it's too dark to see.

Looking defeated, he zipped open his pack and started pulling out gear.

Before long, we had the tent set up and a small fire glowing in the immediate area under the archway.

We had enough food and water in our packs for four nights, and we felt a little more comfortable once the fire was going.

This fleeting comfort was soon interrupted by another distant howl, which put us a bit on edge, but it felt far enough away that we decided we were probably safe.

Once the fire was out and we were settled in the tent, the exhaustion of the day caught up with us.

I laid in my sleeping bag and listened to the mysterious wilderness around us.

Each night on the trail, I had listened to the woods.

I could usually hear crickets chirping, small rodents running around before settling into their holes for the night.

and the occasional late hiker trying to get a few more miles in before stopping.

Out here, there was nothing but the slow swaying of trees.

No wind, just the trees.

With their swaying, I heard the creaking and bending of wood, as if the trees' branches were being pulled or twisted.

I pictured the wooden giants that surrounded our camp yawning and stretching their arms in the moonlight.

Occasionally, I would hear the howling sound way off in the distance.

The night felt long, and neither Todd or myself slept well.

The sun crept up slowly and we emerged from the tent to a familiar feeling.

The cool morning air mixed with a layer of dew re-energized me.

I felt much more optimistic about finding our way back to the trail.

The familiarity didn't last, though.

Something felt a little different about the campsite.

I couldn't put my finger on it, but I had the odd notion that something in the area had changed.

Like the feeling that lingers in the air after someone leaves a room.

We had set up below the archway of the intertwined trees, leaving an open patch around the front side of the tent.

Now that space felt much tighter.

The tent was no longer centered in the archway, and one of the trees was closer to the entrance than I remembered.

There was another tree a couple of feet from the fire pit, contradicting Todd's instructions to always have a four-foot clearing around all sides of the fire.

Hey, did we move the tent last night?

I didn't.

Did you?

No.

It just feels.

different,

doesn't it?

I mean, we did set it up just before dark.

You must be remembering it, Ron.

I guess.

I just feel.

It doesn't matter.

Let's just choose a direction and walk straight.

I'll make sure we don't get turned around again.

Todd said this with a glare that warned me not to argue with him.

I swallowed my opinion and held out my hand, gesturing for him to go ahead and lead.

We packed up our gear and headed under the archway and further into the woods.

We carefully traversed the unknown forest, paying close attention to the straightness of each step we took.

I couldn't help but notice the sounds of creaking wood all around us.

They were the same sounds we had heard the previous night, of trees bending and twisting without the force of the wind to animate their crooked branches.

We stopped twice when howling filled the air around us, slightly louder than before.

Sounds like they're getting closer.

I swallowed hard.

I didn't want to believe it.

And I could tell that Todd didn't either.

But saying it made the situation feel more real.

If I let my thoughts simmer in my mind, I would surely start seeing and hearing things that weren't there.

Talking about them made me feel a sense of control over the situation.

Could be.

It could just be less bush here, so it sounds louder.

I could tell that Todd was taking the route of forcefully convincing himself we were perfectly safe.

His obvious frustration was broken in an instant.

Oh my god, no way!

Dude, check it out!

He started running ahead unexpectedly.

I didn't even have time to ask what was going on.

I raced after Todd, keeping my eyes locked on his orange backpack.

We both ran through the thick brush, sticks swatting and scratching our faces, and dead leaves sliding underneath our boots.

We came upon a clearing in the forest.

Standing before us was a large stone structure.

It appeared to be a section of an old fort, like the ones we'd seen at historical sites in Rhode Island and the Boston Harbor Islands.

These old military forts dated back to the early 1900s and were great places for families and history buffs to experience America's past and for college kids to sneak into at night and get high.

It loomed over us like a giant stone monument with a singular, small opening in the front.

Around its perimeter was a very large circle of cleared land that was littered with rocks and small bushes.

It was about 40 feet to the tree line on all sides.

What do you think this is doing out here in the middle of the woods?

Todd's eyes were wide.

It must be from World War I.

It's just like the one in Jamestown, except taller.

This would be a great place to stay tonight.

Let's check it out.

I wasn't sure I loved the idea of staying in an abandoned old fort in the middle of the woods, but I had to admit that it provided some serious shelter from the elements.

Not that there was much going on weather-wise out here, but being surrounded by stone walls did add a level of security.

We haven't gone very far.

Are you sure you want to stop now?

We've only been walking a couple hours.

I know, but look, the sun is starting to go down already, and besides, now that we've found a landmark, it's probably best to stay put for a little bit.

He motioned toward the horizon behind the old stone structure.

The sun was approaching and nearly fast enough to watch its descent.

It did make sense.

I usually had a good grasp on time.

I was confident we'd only started our journey a couple of hours ago.

Times seemed to be working differently since we fell off the trail.

I guess you're right.

It does seem to be getting dark pretty quick.

Let's set up the tent inside.

We can make a fire in this clearing out front.

Once we made camp and the fire was lit, we assessed our situation and tried to make a plan.

Okay, here's what I think we should do.

We told that couple we were gonna meet up with them for a few drinks, right?

That should have been on the 5th.

We would have caught up with them right after the red section.

We were right on track.

Okay.

Human checkpoint, right?

They probably noticed that we didn't show up.

I bet they contacted a ranger to let them know we're missing.

People take care of each other on the AT.

It's like an unwritten rule.

I think our best bet is to stay here until they find us.

But we only have enough food for a couple more days.

First rule of the wilderness: if you get lost, stay put.

And that was that.

Todd was my best friend, and I knew how he worked.

Once he made a decision, you didn't get to argue against it.

Yes, Captain.

Todd rolled his eyes and stomped out the fire.

We settled into the tent and tried to fall asleep.

It wasn't long before the night sounds started again.

The creaking of the trees, the swaying and swishing of branches, and the howls.

Distant at first, but gradually they grew closer.

As the howling got louder, it took on an odd dissonance, like a howl mixed with a whistling sound, a biting tone that bored into my ears and shot electricity down my spine.

The noises became more frequent as whatever was making them drew nearer.

They were accompanied by shorter yelps.

It sounded like we were surrounded by roaming animals, all baying and yipping as they circled before.

I covered my ears as my body trembled with terror.

I felt nauseous, and the muscles in my arms and legs were tense.

Somewhere below the animalistic outcry, there was another sound.

A big sound that resonated deep in my stomach, shaking my insides like a subwoofer.

Whatever made it padded slowly in front of the fort.

We laid as still as possible, trying to keep our bodies to a shallow quiver.

Then listened to the shuffling as it traveled methodically around the building's perimeter.

What would we do if these things came inside?

Would we have any chance against the vicious sounding fauna of this mysterious forest?

Were we being hunted?

The cacophony of twisting trees, shuffling movements, and growls and yips continued all night and into the early morning.

As the early signs of daybreak started to leak in through the cracks and crevices of the stone building, The noises began to fade.

By the time the sun was finally up, it was quiet again.

We sat in the tent, our bodies shot from a night of tent muscles, adrenaline-fueled panic, and a complete lack of sleep.

After sitting in silence for a while, we summoned all the bravery we could muster and peeked out of the tent towards the fort's entrance.

It looked clear.

No signs of movement.

No noises.

We slowly inched our heads out.

A low fog lingered on the forest floor, nearly hiding the ground.

The black remnants of our fire sat undisturbed.

Again, something in the air was different, though.

The familiar feeling of confusion from the previous morning revisited my mind.

The area outside the fort was changed, as if the trees and bushes had been shuffled around.

The tree line seemed much closer.

I had calculated it to be about 40 feet from the fort, but now it seemed nearly half that.

As if the trees had crept closer during the night.

Todd,

do you see the trees?

Marky, I don't want to hear about any goddamn trees.

We just sat up all night surrounded by fucking werewolves or something.

He laid back on his sleeping bag and closed his eyes.

No offense, but I give zero shits about trees right now.

Fine.

Whatever, man.

I was annoyed at at Todd's dismissive tone, but I let it go.

I didn't have the energy to argue.

I laid down next to him, and within minutes, we were both out cold.

We woke up after a couple of hours in a daze, having to reacquaint ourselves with our circumstances.

It felt like we slept for days and at the same time only a few minutes.

Once I felt awake enough to get up, I ventured out of the tent and towards the fort's opening, Todd following close behind me.

I noticed a large crack running the entire length of one of the four walls.

As far as I remembered, all the walls had been completely solid, save for a few minor fractures where the stone structures met.

What I saw when we exited the fort made my head spin.

The trees were right up next to the building.

Some of them had roots pushing up against the foundation and cracking the stone.

Branches climbed up the side of the fort and shaded the entrance.

The building itself seemed like it was consumed by the forest.

The fog had cleared, and spread across the ground were rows of paw prints that looked like they had come from the world's biggest Great Dane.

This was not surprising based on the horrid sounds we'd heard all night, but seeing them still sent shivers through my body.

Beyond the paw prints, further around the perimeter, were much larger prints.

They almost looked like human footprints, but way bigger.

Close to three feet long.

What do you think made those prints?

I...

No idea.

Do you think that's what was making that shuffling noise?

Todd, those growls and howls we heard?

I don't think those things were trying to get in.

I pointed at the ground in front of us.

Look at the prince.

Mark, what are you talking about?

The prince, man!

They circle all around the fort.

The bigger ones do too, but they're separate.

Those animals weren't trying to get in, they were keeping something else out.

Todd put his hands on his head like he was trying to comprehend what I was saying.

We gotta get out of here.

Grasping for any ounce of control, I pulled out my guidebook.

Are you shitting me right now?

Todd smacked the guidebook out of my hands.

The moment was interrupted by the groan of a tree trunk, followed by a crack like a shotgun report, as the wall along the front of the fort split down the middle.

Light dust trailed down on us like fine snow.

We both ran back to the tent, grabbed any gear we could, and stuffed it into our packs.

Tree branches bent and moaned around us, pushing the walls of the fort inward.

We slung on our packs and sprinted towards the entrance.

As we breached the doorway, the ceiling buckled above us and the fort gave way.

We continued to run as the entire building crumbled behind us.

Crushed like a beer can by the bulging arms of the massive trees.

Run toward the sun.

Wherever it is, keep it in front of you.

We'll go until it's gone.

There's gotta be someone out here.

Within minutes, the sun began to dip down towards the horizon.

As it grew darker, the fog returned.

It permeated up from the ground, and with it came the chilling dread of that mysterious forest.

It seeped into my boots and climbed up my legs.

A tingling sensation that made my body feel heavy and my muscles tense.

My heart pumped furiously to maintain a raging river of blood through my veins.

The sounds of cracking branches and rustling leaves filled the air.

We were not alone.

That much I knew.

As we ran, I saw the branches of the trees slowly sway and bend in our direction, as if they were reaching out to grab us and drag us into the canopy.

Fog cloaked the ground so heavily that I could no longer see my feet.

All we could do was run.

Run as fast as we could.

All around us, the sounds of heavy paws thudded through the brush.

Bushes shook and sticks crackled.

We couldn't tell if we were being chased or if something was running alongside us.

Beyond the thumps of paws came the thunderous boons of heavy footsteps.

There was something else out there.

Something big.

The previously silent forest had become thick with noise.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a hairy creature jutting out of the brush toward me, which made me change direction.

Another one shot up from a thorn bush in a flash.

Its gray fur blurried my overstimulated vision.

I once again changed my direction.

This happened a few more times.

It was like these creatures were herding us around the forest.

Another quick direction change, I spotted the arched trees again.

Seeing something familiar filled me with a short bout of hope, and I sprinted toward it.

I had paced a little ahead of Todd, and I looked back to see how he was keeping up.

I saw a gray blur run out from the brush like a deer running onto the road.

It clipped Todd's legs as it ran by and then darted back into the brush.

Todd tripped and crashed down face first into dirt and leaves, skidding across the ground as his momentum dragged him along.

I stopped and rushed back to help him.

He sat on the ground holding his ankle, which had been badly twisted.

It had deep claw marks sliced into it.

Crimson blood oozed through the pant leg and into his boot.

I pulled him up, put his arm around my shoulder, and helped him limp along.

We took only a few steps when the forest around us started to buzz with activity.

Growls and barking sounds drowned out the atmosphere.

The brush around us was shaking as blurry, grey figures darted in and out of the tangled bushes.

The branches from the trees creaked down in our direction, like bony fingers reaching out from the heavens.

We stopped in the familiar clearing.

The arched trees loomed over us like a beacon highlighting our location.

In all directions, the forest hoarse was packed tight with brambles and tree trunks.

There were no visible paths we could access.

The trees inched closer and closer.

Heavy footsteps shook the ground, and the gray creatures yipped and howled and clicked their teeth.

When the trunks of the trees were mere feet away from where we stood, I felt something cold envelop around my ankles.

I looked down to see a cloudy gray liquid seeping up from the forest floor.

The soil beneath our feet softened, and we began to sink into the ground.

The viscous liquid flooded the area rapidly, and we soon found ourselves treading water as tree branches reached down at us.

One thin tendril wrapped around Todd's neck.

I grabbed it and pulled as hard as I could, snapping the stick in two.

Before I could see what was coming next, I felt pressure on my head as we were both somehow pushed under the gray water.

It felt thick and soupy as it engulfed my body.

like I was drowning in molasses.

My grip on Todd's waist slipped and I lost him.

I thrashed around trying to find my friend as the grey muck hugged my limbs.

My head started to feel heavy, and I could no longer tell which way was up.

My eyes rolled back and my mind flickered like an old light bulb as my consciousness started to lose its battle.

Suddenly the pressure from above gave way.

The syrupy liquid around me began to feel thinner, like lake water.

But I found I could move again.

I forced my eyes open and saw Todd floating just a few feet away from me.

I reached out and got a hold of his shoulder.

Looking up, I saw sunlight shining above the surface.

Using all my strength, I doggy paddled my way up to the surface, with a barely conscious Todd in tow.

I broke the surface with a massive gulp of air.

The flash of sunlight and fresh air seemed to snap Todd back to life.

The sun shone brightly on the forest floor.

I could hear the gentle chirping of the crickets and the afternoon love songs of the birds.

We looked around at each other for a second, bewildered, then dragged ourselves out of a tiny creek at the bottom of a hill.

I painfully rose to my feet and lifted Todd up beside me.

We hobbled slowly up to the top of the short hill, where we found a well-defined hiking trail.

We both limped along the trail for a quarter mile until we came upon a small wooden shelter where two hikers were packing up gear.

It was the nerdy guy and the woman with the blue hat.

You gotta be kidding me.

I squeaked out before falling to the ground.

It was all I could manage.

The man picked me up and placed me under the shelter.

The woman tied a bandana tightly around Todd's leg, and then we both passed out.

When we awoke, we were lying on stretchers and being carried by a handful of park rangers.

Where?

What's going on?

Just settle down, son.

You've had quite an accident.

You're probably in shock.

Oh.

Did you?

I wasn't sure what to ask the Rangers.

We found you two in the shelter, sliced up, soaking wet and out cold.

Looks like you had to run in with some wildlife.

You're pretty banged up.

You remember what happened?

I thought for a second and glanced at Todd, who gave me a quizzical glance.

You wouldn't believe us if we told you.

Where are the hikers?

What hikers?

The ones that called you?

The guy with the glasses?

The woman had a blue hat on.

Nobody called us.

We got a station a mile back up the trail and haven't seen anyone go by in two days.

We were out on a routine patrol and came across you two.

Wait,

nobody called you?

Like I said, nobody's been by this section of trail for a few days, which is why we were surprised to find you guys.

Do you have any idea how long you've been in that shelter?

Uh,

what's the date?

The 5th of August.

The 5th?

Todd sat up.

What time is it?

About three: thirty

three thirty

shit.

Todd looked at me,

stark white at the realization we were both hit with

that we had only been gone for about four hours.

Our phone lines have been cut.

The cell signals are lost.

But we will return to delve into your darkest hang-ups when the calls will be coming from inside your house.

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