S24 Ep15: NoSleep Podcast S24E15

Water. It gives us life. We are drawn to it. Yet it holds immense power over us. It can bring unspeakable horror to the most familiar places. Your morning shower, a tranquil river bank, or the endless ocean. It's time to dive deep into the abyss. From the dark waters of the Cape Fear River. Immerse 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 McAvoy. 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 three, back in 2014. Oh boy. So over a decade ago, okay, that hurts. I was a fetus. Since then, I've 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 to submissions at thenosleepodcast.com. If you'd like to know the specific details of what we're looking for, head over to thenosleepodcast.com slash 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 the sacrifice for the Heard and 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 Heard and 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 downs than ups, but I keep reminding myself that life is a journey. Some days feel good, and others feel overwhelming. Whenever it'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, and no journey should be alone. Having someone with you to listen, to understand, and to support you can make all the difference. Therapy has helped me, and I know it can help you. Better 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 slash no sleep. That's better, H-E-L-P dot com slash no sleep. Okay, back to you, Jessica. In our first tale, oh, 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 in the dark corners of the internet. We've got Dan always brings baked goods to the live show Zepula. Also, check out his music on Spotify. Atticus, your ASMR boyfriend, Jackson, and Jeff, I'm so sorry for always casting you as Weirdo's 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, and 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 write 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 Reddit or TikTok 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 on what 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. Corey 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 lake house. Not really a lake house 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 Wi-Fi connection, so why not let the marathon begin? That was two weeks ago. At least, I think it was two weeks ago. Eventually you lose your relationship 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 rumor they're using to juice the algorithm. Get viewer numbers up. Corey 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, Sydney Prescott ran from Ghostface, just like she had every day since 1996. Fuck if I know. Do we at least watch a movie with nudity next time? Dude, calm down. Have another beer. I've 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 a time, while someone else manned the controls so we didn't leave too long of a pause between movies. Corey 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, he 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 Corey 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 pastime 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 say that 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 you're 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 bobbin-oom 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 any time. 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 Wi-Fi like... I said give it a minute. Logan's eyes never left the screen. Credits 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 groan. I remember sitting forward on the couch, puzzled, palms slick with sudden sweat, wondering if maybe we'd just reached the end of what the app would let us watch. 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. Summoning 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! Corey 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 Corey 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. That almost feels illegal, right? Like someone would stop them from making something that... 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, when the door opened, it was like... Come on, you watched it. I didn't see that. I was gonna 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's sliced any eyeballs. Eyeballs exploded, but... I watched the same fucking movie you did, and that happened, dude. Robbie, 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 Corey looking down at me, something building behind their eyes that might have been excitement and might have been panic. Tingling heat surged across the back of my neck and up around my scalp as 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 Corey and then back again. Fucking, come on, guys. We all watched it. Pulverizer, right? The people can just rip you to shreds with their minds, like in scanners, but way more fucked up. Logan turned to look at Corey, frustration 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, flipped it open, and pulled out a whiskey bottle with a black label. Okay. He yanked the cork out of the whiskey as he crossed the room. Okay, so we all really saw 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, winced as it went down his throat. Cory 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... Holy shit, this could change streaming forever. This is amazing! Like, what if it's tuned into our brain waves or something, showing us the best movie for our own mind? Cory 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 Cory, 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, and we started to see the same thing again. Cory shuffled away, knocking over empty beer bottles with a tinkling clatter as he went, still bent in half, feet unsteady carrying him towards the hallway, where the bathroom waited. Fuck! I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. No! Fuck! Hang on. I watched him cross the living room, saw the toe of his shoe catch on the little metal lip, separating the carpet from the scarred linoleum in the hallway, and then something changed. Cory 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 Cory made right before he went away. I'd never heard a human make a sound like that before, somewhere between the mulling wail of an animal desperate for rescue, and the cry a baby makes when it's in between sobs and so exhausted, it can barely find the strength to scream anymore. 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 the 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 entrails spreading across the hall. Pulverizer. Something else probably should have happened other than what we actually did, which was pack those intestines into a garbage bag, then mop up 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 no doubt already stinking them up really good. And then, he was back at the TV, starting the 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 winced, 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 canyon of flesh the cut left behind. But Logan did nothing beyond wincing, 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, he would just say no, then go back to his muttering. 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 gonna 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. The End Let's take a short break for our sponsors who help us keep our heads above water. For waves of adfree horror content, join our sleepless universe by going to sleepless.thenosleepodcast.com. Streaming horror movies is one thing, but how many of us are streaming good hydration into our bodies? I've been taking my hydration seriously lately, and that's why I use drip drop, because I've been trying to work out and cycle more, and down here it's already warm summery weather. That's why I turned to drip drops Zero Sugar Plus, a breakthrough formula with an advanced blend of six key electrolytes, 15 essential vitamins and nutrients, and no sugar or artificial sweeteners. 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New customer offer for first 3 months only. Then full price plan options available. 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 Orchids spins a tale for us about a lonely man who discovers a strange YouTube channel featuring a foreign news show. As he continues to watch however, the content grows increasingly more disturbing. Mike God Audio Delgadio and Lindsay Oh I'm a stunt woman and improv comedian and classically trained singer and a thousand other cool things or so read this one for us. Warning us to stay far away from channel 14. So my brother Anthony passed away very recently. I loved 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. He wrote maniacally about some show he'd been watching that I can't seem to find any details on. 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, 2.15pm. 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 stock left in the relationship. I guess it sucks because we still do have so much love for each other, you know? Two people stepping away 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. Adjustment is just a nightmare. Being 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? 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, 11.44pm. 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. Not 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 fids of anchors fucking up hilariously or accidentally drawing dicks on the weather report. Yeah, alright, I laugh at dumb shit. Don't look at me like that. You're a notebook. Judgmental for an inanimate object, aren't ya? Ah, 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 Afghani? 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 speaking the native tongue confirms or denies it. 1202-2020-106PM Talked 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 show, same old weird comments. Someone did confirm that it was Egyptian, which I think is rad. Don't know enough about Egypt, I daresay. Can't wait to see more. 1217-2020-1214AM 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. It was weirdly seamless. Both Oscars retorts, as well as Seth's accusations, seemed to be mixed within the actual news delivered. Seth would say, four 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. It was fucking bizarre. Like this has to be a spoof show. I can't really tell what's going on, but a chunk of the YouTube community and I are 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 word vomiting at this point. 1222 2020 311 PM It's three days until Christmas. First one in two years I'll be spending alone. I thought about wishing Valerie a merry 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, judgemental journal. I'm not doing great. I'm not bad. No, I wouldn't say that. I just feel lonely 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. Marcy's halfway across the country. It's just a bummer. Nothing panned out the way I pictured it. I think I'll just work through this one. Next year will be better. 12 31 2020 6 0 8 PM. Christmas came and went in a fucking blink. Now it's New Year's Eve. Woo. I'm going to 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 errands or work. Fuck. Man, that's depressing. I guess I've really only had my computer to keep me company. Oh, about that too. The newest installment of Channel 14 dropped and it was 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 jabs 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 looked 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 clumsiest and most dreadful of deaths. None of you shall be found in the wake of my vengeance, brother, not a peace. The excruciation you will feel my hand bring down upon you will not be prevented by offering nor treaty. Know and accept your blackened fate. He spoke with such elation and then they just looked at the camera, motionless and staring with those over-exaggerated grins. Freaked me the hell out, like they were looking right at me, expecting me to respond to them. And after a minute or so passed they just started laughing, shoving each other like it had all been playful banter between the two of them. I had so many fucking questions and it looked like the comments 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 in clear as day fucking English. He'd 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 wanna be late for my first human interaction in months. 11 2021 9 0 5 AM. God my head hurts. Oh god I'm 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. I mean for a rundown dive with bad lighting and a worse attitude, the place was surprisingly lively. I guess I shouldn't be too surprised since it 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 mules. Pretty feeling a little lighter due to the lack of drinking practice I've had made me think I was honestly and truly seeing things. I 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 moosed 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, Judgement 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 grin I'd seen after Seth's rant on Channel 14. I gulped once more holding my composure as best I could. I spoke first. Happy new years, man. Hope you're having a good one. My voice was shaky and weak. The resemblance, his mannerisms, they were all the same. He was starting 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 lookalike finally responded to me. My brother is having a new baby. It's 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 news 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, 5.45 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 man, after New Year's I'm a bit shaken. That's about it for today. Sorry the past few days have been fucked up, Journal. I'll give you some positivity here soon. 17, 2021, 2.57 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 whether 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 in anger or confession of feelings or... But our interaction just remained 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. Blech. What garbage poetry that was, huh, Journal? I sound like an emo teenager all over again. Dramatics aren't gonna fix anything anyways. 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 braver and 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? 114-2021, 2.48 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 alone, Seth smoking a cigarette with his hand running through his hair. He looked tired and frustrated. A female voice started talking first from off-screen. She sounded like either the director or a 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 set. 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 lookalike 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 locust 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. He was angry, but sing songy, 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 offscreen woman to right 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? 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, 9.41pm. 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 depressive thoughts of Valerie was not a good idea. I should have taken a few days for my mental health. Ben would have understood. I caught up with Mom and Marcy and just let myself remember there were people who loved me. I ate well today, removed myself from technology and drank a lot of water. I tried to, you know, deworm my brain of all the nightmares and reset myself to a somewhat normal and not paranoid person. I'm almost 100% sure I was reading way too deep into everything. A handful of coincidences and I'm pushed over the deep end into conspiracy land? Man, that's not who I want to be. Whoever was at the bar was probably just a happy uncle. I immediately profiled him 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 who 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. 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 5-HTP and Ashwagandha as mood levelers. But I guess 5-HTP 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. I mean, I 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. 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 one I think I could get used to. Work has been somewhat easier as I've seen my palette building ability grow into something more usable. So it's been decent. 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, 7.30. 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. 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. What the hell were they so impatient for? I'm coming, hold on. I said, shaking my head in irritation. After my words, they knocked a third fucking time. 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. 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. One is 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. He nailed me inside, he said through his tears. 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. I mean, it fucking had to be. He's mad at you too, Anthony. My stupor was broken at this point. What the hell 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 doorknob. 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 ferocity 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 door 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 altar, Anthony. Let me in. I need you. Be my altar. I sat, discomfited 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? It 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. 1 28 2021 509 PM I don't know what to do. I tried to call mom and Marcy 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 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. Now, 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 hazier, 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, there were two women standing in business suits and holding hands. And they looked distraught and solemn, and one was visibly pregnant. And they're looking at the camera, but kind of often glancing away as if they were uncomfortable looking at it. So I expect them to start talking akin to the other times 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 sat at. I'm baffled as to how this is happening, but they were just there. And if it wasn't for their shifty eyes, it would have been easy to mistake for just a 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. My skeleton nearly jumped out of my body. It 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 keel 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, rebirthed once so it will be again. One kingdom, one king, a phallic sacrifice to allow the reversion. One kingdom, one king. Then the feed cut out and 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 that you and me, Journal, we are getting the fuck out of here. 130, 2021, 104 PM. Two days free of all this weirdness. Ooh, must be a record. I finally got hold of mom, tried 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 the 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. 2, 2, 2021, 3, 14 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 piling on, doesn't it? I keep seeing that fucking number 14 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 do anything else. Fuck, I hate these thoughts so fucking much. But here I am, putting them into this journal I've personified so I don't feel half as fucking lonely. I'm a wreck. This is eaten away at the healthiest parts in my brain, and I'm at a loss at how to get away from it. I don't know, hopefully visiting mom will help, but I've got 12 days to dwell on all that before that's happened. And fuck, there's one more episode of that accursed 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. 2-11-2021, 7.14 PM. It happened again. It 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 a 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 kings or whatever. Does a lack of 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 of losing my fucking job. Only thing it didn't make me lose is that I didn't even realize that the 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 I 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 to. I lost Valerie all on my fucking own. I can finally accept that. Doesn't make me feel any better, but at least I can see the truth now. Gotta 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. 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 bled 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 ornate jackal. Well, David doesn't usually do an outro, and I'm just kinda ad-libbing here, 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 first time I did this, I think it was when I first found out that I had a job here. 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 Brandon 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 at NoSleep, 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 NoSleep podcast. As our stories sink beneath the waves, we claw our way back onto dry land. Join us again next time when we plunge into the chilling depths where water hides its darkest secrets. The NoSleep podcast is presented by Creative Reason Media. The musical scores are composed by Brandon Boone. Our production team is Phil Mykulski, Jeff Clement, Jesse Cornette, and Claudius Moore. Our editorial team is Jessica McAvoy, Ashley McEnally, Ollie A. White, and Kristen Semido. I'm your host and executive producer, David Cummings. To discover how you can get even more sleepless horror stories from us, just visit sleepless.thenoesleeppodcast.com to learn about the sleepless universe. Add free extended episodes each week and lots of bonus content for the dark hours, all for one low monthly price. On behalf of everyone at the NoSleep podcast, we thank you for taking the plunge into our dark waters. This audio program is copyright 2026 by Creative Reason Media. The copyrights for each story are held by the respective authors. No duplication or reproduction of this audio program is permitted without the written consent of Creative Reason Media. No part of this audio program may be used or reproduced in any manner for the purpose of training artificial intelligence technologies or systems. All rights reserved. Oxford Montessori School is now Oxford Millwood School, a new name, the same genuine care, academic ambition and belief in every child. Set within a beautiful rural campus, just 20 minutes from Oxford City Centre. Our small classes, personalised pathways and strong send expertise give pupils the support, challenge and confidence they need to succeed, especially those who may not have thrived in larger settings. Find out more at our Open Day on May the 21st. Search Oxford Millwood School Open Day. Thank you all so much for being here at our wedding. I can't believe I get to spend the rest of my life with a woman of my dreams. Speaking of dreams, have you ever dreamed of tasting all the colours of the rainbow? Because that is exactly what you get with Skittles. Five bold fruit flavours in every pack. 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