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Chapter 1: What horrors await in the dark waters of the Cape Fear River?
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 riverbank, 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.
In his 1919 essay titled The Uncanny, Sigmund Freud wrote, The subject of the uncanny undoubtedly belongs to all that is terrible, to all that arouses dread and creeping horror. Unlike some of his contemporaries who theorized that this phenomenon was associated with the fear of the unknown, Freud believed this uncanny experience was rooted in the familiar environment of our childhood.
Whether or not it's the familiar or the unfamiliar which triggers the uncanny experience, we've all encountered people, places, or things that make us feel dread. And luckily for us, there have been many well-crafted horror stories produced on the podcast through the years, providing plenty of opportunities to experience the uncanny.
There's a spectrum of styles, from the suggestive to the graphic. Something for everyone. Welcome to the podcast. I'm your host, Nicole Doolin, and I've been voice acting on the show for over 10 years.
Before I started on No Sleep, I appeared in the horror podcast Tales to Terrify, which was hosted at the time by the late horror writer and actor Lawrence Santoro, who discovered my voice work on the internet and asked me to perform horror stories for them. That's how David found me, and he invited me to join the No Sleep podcast.
If I remember correctly, my first story was Forget Me Not, a blend of horror and science fiction. I like speculative fiction, so I enjoy horror, sci-fi, and fantasy.
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Chapter 2: What is the story 'Wait in the Car' about?
Also historical fiction. So you can still find me on the Tales to Terrify podcast where I perform horror stories solo. If you like science fiction, they're also starting a new sci-fi anthology podcast called Folded Space, which is premiering this September. And in it, I will perform a space opera like no other. So stay tuned.
And if you're interested in horror stories for younger audiences, I star alongside Atticus Jackson in the Nightmare Soup podcast. I want to take a moment to thank you for being a part of the No Sleep family. There's a lot of chaos and division in the world, but we've managed to find common ground here.
Chapter 3: How does 'Heebie Jeebies' explore childhood fears?
People from various parts of the globe listen to and support the show, while others contribute their talent, skill, and imagination, and that's something worth celebrating. I know that listening to the stories can provide a diversion from life's challenges, but performing them can also be diverting.
When I sit down in front of the microphone and hit record, my concerns fade and I am drawn right into that other world that the writer has created. And it can be very therapeutic. So I'm truly grateful that you make this podcast possible. And I hope that we've provided you with a pleasant escape all these years. Or should I say a horrible escape? A pleasantly horrible escape? Hmm. Hmm.
Anyway, it's been a long journey with many ups and downs. But we can all leave our troubles behind us and look forward to the future. Or can we? What if no matter what you do, the past comes back to haunt you anyway? What if the secrets you've buried might get exposed? What if the monsters you hope to escape find you?
In today's episode, our characters have certainly had their fair share of challenges and secrets they've guarded. They'd rather not face unpleasant consequences if they're found or found out. Yet it seems time has run out. There's nowhere to hide, and they will have to confront their demons in whatever shape they take, whether they like it or not.
It remains to be seen which of them will succeed in keeping their secrets, being freed of their secrets, or destroyed by them. So let's pry Pandora's box open together and let all the hidden demons out. In our first tale by author Tyler Jones, we meet a mother and son who hit the road in a hurry because it's time to move on.
Corey doesn't know where they're headed, but his mother has to take care of something first. Performing this tale are Matthew Bradford and Kristen DiMercurio. Their attempt to start a new life might hit a road bump, but Corey knows it's best to do as he's told when his mother instructs him to wait in the car.
Mom is driving faster than she normally does, and it makes me nervous. Not for us, but for other people. The people on the sidewalk, like those kids coming out of the stop and go, or that lady walking her dog. There's a light up ahead, and I almost say something, but Mom's jaw is tight, teeth biting down on a cigarette. She just slows for a second and spins the wheel to the right.
The tires give a little squeal and she tears around the corner without stopping. The lady with the dog looks up, scared. She flips us the middle finger and holds it until we're out of sight. Where are we going? I ask for the third time. She didn't answer for the first two times. Smoke streams out of her nostrils like her brain is on fire. She looks a little pale, a little sick.
Her window is rolled down just a crack and the smoke gets sucked out into the air that feels like a blow dryer on high.
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Chapter 4: What unsettling themes are present in 'What to Expect When You’re Expecting'?
Ori, I already told you.
She takes the cigarette out of her mouth and drives one-handed. The car swerves across the lines, almost into another lane, before she jerks it back again. You didn't, though.
Chapter 5: What happens in the story 'A Mouth Full of Maggots'?
Don't argue with me.
I'm not arguing. My foot presses down on the gas and I watch the speedometer creep towards 70 miles per hour as we tear down the road. The frame of the car shivers like it's going to fall apart any second. The town shrinks into the rearview mirror. I twist in my seat to look at the old buildings with the faded paint blending into the desert around them.
It looks like a place where a town shouldn't be. The back seat is full of our clothes, overflowing out of duffel bags so full they wouldn't zip closed. A suitcase, our pillows and blankets. A plastic laundry basket holds some of my books and DVDs. I didn't even notice this stuff when she pulled me out of school early and dragged me to the car, told me to get in and put my seatbelt on.
We've been driving ever since.
Turn around.
She hasn't smoked in a couple days. She said she wasn't feeling all that good. hasn't eaten in a few days either and her cheeks are sunken her eyes are too big mom we're leaving and she looks at me and smiles her teeth are yellow we never belonged in this place you know that we stayed longer than we should have
I thought maybe she'd slow down once we were outside the town, but she goes even faster, and the window next to my head is shaking, banging around inside the door. Is this because of the stuff that happened at school? Mom rolls down the window more, and a rush of hot air fills the car as she tosses the cigarette butt.
Then the window goes back up, and she pulls another cigarette from the pack, holds it between her lips, and lights it. Mom, is it? She squints, nods slightly.
Yeah, a little.
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Chapter 6: How does the host reflect on their journey in horror storytelling?
It hurts a little, but when the air hits the brand new skin underneath, it feels cold and sticky. Feels sort of like being boring. I'm sorry. She eases off the gas and the car doesn't rattle quite as much.
We'll find somewhere we can stay longer. Somewhere we'll be safe.
Are we safe here? She shakes her head again. Not anymore. Where are we?
I need to get something.
Turns our attention back to the road.
Just a quick stop.
My stomach gurgles. My whole body feels weak and tired. Mom pulled me out of school early and I didn't get to have the lunch she packed me. Didn't even have a chance to grab it out of my locker before we left. It'll probably begin to rot and stink up the hall before someone tells the janitor.
And he'll open up my locker to find a thick, putrid, disgusting soup growing mold and all sorts of bacteria. And by then, who knows where Mom and I'll be. Time is a strange thing, and if I think about it for too long, I start to feel dizzy. It's right now, and it's all around us. It's everything that's happened, and everything that ever will.
Like, when I try to remember all of the places Mom and I have lived, they sort of blur together. I place my bedroom from one house in the layout of a different house, or the bathroom from our Louisiana house in the Chicago apartment. Mom says we're not running, but it feels like we are. Feels like we always have been.
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Chapter 7: What lessons does Charlie learn from Nona in 'Heebie Jeebies'?
Their big ears twitch and they freeze in place, watching as we drive by. I almost say something about how much mom is smoking, but adults don't like it much when you point out the things they do when they're stressed. I know she's hungry even though she won't admit it. We haven't eaten much over the last two weeks and she's made sure I ate before she took Kenny herself. Work is hard for mom.
And even though I don't know everything about her, I know enough. She used to be someone important, until she wasn't. Her family decided they didn't want to see her anymore, and I know that hurt a lot. A few years ago, she did a certain kind of work. Night work, she called it. But she says she can't do it anymore. It makes her feel bad inside, even though it paid well.
Seems like no matter what job she gets, eventually someone gets mad at her and she quits or gets fired. We don't have much money. I know that too. That's why my clothes are getting worn out. I've needed new shoes for at least a month, but I don't mention it. Mom already knows. I've seen her pick up my sneakers, pry at the place where the soul is separating, and sigh.
This isn't the first time things have been hard, though, and I'm sure it won't be the last. Like I said before, time is strange, and I had a way of circling back around again. Sometimes, at night, I asked Mom to tell me about where she lived when she was an important person. She'll lay next to me in bed, stroking my hair and smile like that part of her life holds all her favorite memories.
She'll talk about the giant house with all the servants, people to cook and serve you food, to wash your clothes, to clean, tend to the garden, the horses. She had a bell in her room. She could ring it and a servant would come running to see what she wanted. She talks about the staircase, so wide you could fit six people shoulder to shoulder across it.
And her bedroom with the four-post bed and the thin curtains hanging from it. The rugs, soft and deep, made in foreign countries by people who had been weaving rugs for a thousand years. A wardrobe full of beautiful dresses. Shoes for every day of the week. A library filled floor to ceiling with books. A fireplace that never seemed to go out. How could someone have all that and not miss it?
Mom slows the car down near a mailbox with a cartoon of a coyote chasing a roadrunner painted on the side. The flag you put up when you've got mail going out is a star-shaped cartoon explosion with the word POW written inside it. The tires bounce over rocks when Mom pulls onto the dirt road next to the mailbox.
I look in the rearview mirror and see clouds of yellow dust being thrown into the sky behind us. Mom swerves, trying to avoid potholes so deep I feel the impact shudder through my tailbone and into my spine. She keeps driving, faster than we should on a road like this. Because of the mailbox, I'm thinking about cartoons, how a car like this would fall apart in a TV show.
The doors, hood, trunk, roof, and tires would just disassemble and crash into the dirt, leaving us exposed in our seats, looking confused. Up ahead, I see a building. Mom calls it double-wide. Not quite a house and not quite a trailer. Mom's jaw gets tighter as we get closer. I count at least four cars parked at weird angles around the place. Two are missing tires and up on blocks.
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Chapter 8: How does the episode conclude with reflections on fear and family?
I know exactly what you're feeling.
Deep down, spooky ideas squirming like buggies. You don't live half a decade alone in a big, empty house and not feel the heebie-jeebies creeping under your skin.
Heebie-jeebies? Charlie mouthed the words, and a prickle round down his neck. Heebie-jeebies. Yes, that sounded right. He pulled his quilt tighter and peered out at Nona, breath held, fast to listen.
Your mother never believed in them, but they're very real indeed. Nasty little pests. They burrow around your nerves and crevices, freezing you up with scary, ugly worries. Simply horrid.
But you want to know a secret? Nona tapped the tip of Charlie's nose with a sly finger. Gibis can be vanquished, caught, and released. Charlie shifted inside his bundle. They can? Oh, yes. Nona's watery gray eyes sparkled. May I show you my trick? He sniffled and nodded solemnly. Sit up straight, then, and hold still. She wiggled her fingertips like a fortune teller examining a crystal ball.
Humming a curious sing-song, she closed her eyes and raked the air around Charlie with watery hands. It was all rather dreamy and bewildering. A wrinkled old woman putting on such an elaborate show at his midnight bedside. And he couldn't help but wobble a grin. Nona cracked an eye at him.
"'Oh, my stars. A most dreadful infestation. Right here.'
She corkscrewed her fingertips into Charlie's underarm, surprising him. And his jibbies, too. "'That's right. I gotcha, you little nerve-chewers.' She tickled away, chasing those buggers until Charlie rolled backwards, wriggling and giggling.
That's it? Oh goodness, so many jeebies. Hold on, dear boy. It's easiest to snag their tippy toes.
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