Freaky Friday Files: My Favourite No Sleep Stories
- Ash
- Aug 22
- 31 min read
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CONTENT WARNING: Some information in this blog post may be distressing to readers. Reader discretion advised.
Hello! Happy Fri-YAY! For this week's edition of Freaky Friday Files, I thought we could take a look at some of my favourite no sleep stories from the subreddit /r/nosleep. I have been reading no sleep stories since I was about 15, and there's something so fun about them, and embarrassingly, I used to think they were actually real and it wasn't just fiction. I was VERY sad when I realised that they were made up and the users just had to pretend the stories were real. Anyway, it's still fun. This blog post is dedicated to my favourite no sleep stories.
PIN IT
My Favourite No Sleep Stories (from Reddit)
"I wasn't sure where else to post these stories, so I figured I'd share them here. I've been an SAR officer for a few years now, and along the way I've seen some things that I think you guys will be interested in.
I have a pretty good track record for finding missing people. Most of the time they just wander off the path, or slip down a small cliff, and they can't find their way back. The majority of them have heard the old 'stay where you are' thing, and they don't wander far. But I've had two cases where that didn't happen. Both bother me a lot, and I use them as motivation to search even harder on the missing persons cases I get called on. The first was a little boy who was out berry-picking with his parents. He and his sister were together, and both of them went missing around the same time. Their parents lost sight of them for a few seconds, and in that time both the kids apparently wandered off. When their parents couldn't find them, they called us, and we came out to search the area. We found the daughter pretty quickly, and when we asked where her brother was, she told us that he'd been taken away by 'the bear man.' She said he gave her berries and told her to stay quiet, that he wanted to play with her brother for a while. The last she saw of her brother, he was riding on the shoulders of 'the bear man' and seemed calm. Of course, our first thought was abduction, but we never found a trace of another human being in that area. The little girl was also insistent that he wasn't a normal man, but that he was tall and covered in hair, 'like a bear', and that he had a 'weird face.' We searched that area for weeks, it was one of the longest calls I've ever been on, but we never found a single trace of that kid. The other was a young woman who was out hiking with her mom and grandpa. According to the mother, her daughter had climbed up a tree to get a better view of the forest, and she'd never come back down. They waited at the base of the tree for hours, calling her name, before they called for help. Again, we searched everywhere, and we never found a trace of her. I have no idea where she could possibly have gone, because neither her mother or grandpa saw her come down.
A few times, I've been out on my own searching with a canine, and they've tried to lead me straight up cliffs. Not hills, not even rock faces. Straight, sheer cliffs with no possible handholds. It's always baffling, and in those cases we usually find the person on the other side of the cliff, or miles away from where the canine has led us. I'm sure there's an explanation, but it's sort of strange.
One particularly sad case involved the recovery of a body. A nine-year-old girl fell down an embankment and got impaled on a dead tree at the base. It was a complete freak accident, but I'll never forget the sound her mother made when we told her what had happened. She saw the body bag being loaded into the ambulance, and she let out the most haunting, heart-broken wail I've ever heard. It was like her whole life was crashing down around her, and a part of her had died with her daughter. I heard from another SAR officer that she killed herself a few weeks after it happened. She couldn't live with the loss of her daughter.
I was teamed up with another SAR officer because we'd received reports of bears in the area. We were looking for a guy who hadn't come home from a climbing trip when he was supposed to, and we ended up having to do some serious climbing to get to where we figured he'd be. We found him trapped in a small crevasse with a broken leg. It was not pleasant. He'd been there for almost two days, and his leg was very obviously infected. We were able to get him into a chopper, and I heard from one of the EMTs that the guy was absolutely inconsolable. He kept talking about how he'd been doing fine, and when he'd gotten to the top, a man had been there. He said the guy had no climbing equipment, and he was wearing a parka and ski pants. He walked up to the guy, and when the guy turned around, he said he had no face. It was just blank. He freaked out, and ended up trying to get off the mountain too fast, which is why he'd fallen. He said he could hear the guy all night, climbing down the mountain and letting out these horrible muffled screams. That story bothered the hell out of me. I'm glad I wasn't there to hear it.
One of the scariest things I've ever had happen to me involved the search for a young woman who'd gotten separated from her hiking group. We were out until late at night, because the dogs had picked up her scent. When we found her, she was curled up under a large rotted log. She was missing her shoes and pack, and she was clearly in shock. She didn't have any injuries, and we were able to get her to walk with us back to base ops. Along the way, she kept looking behind us and asking us why 'that big man with black eyes' was following us. We couldn't see anyone, so we just wrote it off as some weird symptom of shock. But the closer we got to base, the more agitated this woman got. She kept asking me to tell him to stop 'making faces' at her. At one point she stopped and turned around and started yelling into the forest, saying that she wanted him to leave her alone. She wasn't going to go with him, she said, and she wouldn't give us to him. We finally got her to keep moving, but we started hearing these weird noises coming from all around us. It was almost like coughing, but more rhythmic and deeper. It was almost insect-like, I don't really know how else to describe it. When we were within site of base ops, the woman turns to me, and her eyes are about as wide as I can imagine a human could open them. She touches my shoulder and says 'He says to tell you to speed up. He doesn't like looking at the scar on your neck.' I have a very small scar on the base of my neck, but it's mostly hidden under my collar, and I have no idea how this woman saw it. Right after she says it, I hear that weird coughing right in my ear, and I just about jumped out of my skin. I hustled her to ops, trying not to show how freaked out I was, but I have to say I was really happy when we left the area that night.
This is the last one I'll tell, and it's probably the weirdest story I have. Now, I don't know if this is true in every SAR unit, but in mine, it's sort of an unspoken, regular thing we run into. You can try asking about it with other SAR officers, but even if they know what you're talking about, they probably won't say anything about it. We've been told not to talk about it by our superiors, and at this point we've all gotten so used to it that it doesn't even seem weird anymore. On just about every case where we're really far into the wilderness, I'm talking 30 or 40 miles, at some point we'll find a staircase in the middle of the woods. It's almost like if you took the stairs in your house, cut them out, and put them in the forest. I asked about it the first time I saw some, and the other officer just told me not to worry about it, that it was normal. Everyone I asked said the same thing. I wanted to go check them out, but I was told, very emphatically, that I should never go near any of them. I just sort of ignore them now when I run into them because it happens so frequently.
I have a lot more stories, and I suppose if anyone's interested, I'll tell some of them tomorrow. If anyone has any theories about the stairs, or if you've seen them too, let me know."
This one has always intrigued me because it's the first time I heard about staircases in the woods. My logical brain is like, "they're probably from old houses that aren't there anymore," but they've always freaked me out.
"I moved in with my boyfriend yesterday. We’ve been together for 5 years now and we’re old and wise enough to settle down and finally leave our parents houses. He just turned 24 and I’m 22. He’s the love of my life. His name is Jamie and I couldn’t be happier to be living with him.
When we decided to make the leap we spent 2 months looking at flats and houses, we couldn’t afford to buy yet so renting was our only option but the prices were astronomical. For our budget we would have been lucky to get a box room and a stove.
Jamie works for a local 24 hour fast food restaurant and I’m training to be a teacher. The early stages of training don’t pay much and I owe a lot in student loans so finances are tough.
We had almost given up hope until we found our flat. It was nothing special, but to us it was a palace. A spacious 2 bedroom apartment with views of a city park, a balcony and local conveniences. It was in a tower block in a not so nice area, but neither of us had been wealthy growing up, we weren’t fussy. Just grateful to be together.
The advert was sweetened by the deposit free option and open ended tenancy. The landlord was happy to sign a five year contract if we wanted. That sort of thing never happens in the city. We were told that along with no deposit we would also have no inspections, but would be liable to pay for any damage when we ended the tenancy. I’d never heard of anything quite like it.
We knew that for our budget and location we weren’t going to get any better. We snapped the place up fast, not even bothering to view it. It felt like our only chance.
Move in day rolled around quickly and yesterday we got the keys to our first home together, it was such a strange feeling. The day was chaos, getting our stuff in and up in the lift. We were flat number 42, on the 7th floor. The items we couldn’t get in the lift had to be taken up all the stairs by the removal men. I think they were grateful we weren’t any higher but I still wish we had been able to give them a better tip.
In the evening we settled down on our second hand sofa, given to us by a cousin of a friend and watched some tv. We smoked cigarettes on the balcony looking at the park and fell asleep on our mattress on the floor super early because we had no energy to put the bed together yet and Jamie had work at a hideous time of the morning.
We slept soundly last night, I felt safe and happy. I don’t think that feeling is coming back any time soon and it’s all due to the note I found this morning.
I found it in the kitchen, having a coffee, hours after Jamie had left for his early shift at work. It was in one of the cupboards that were fixed to the wall, there were a bunch of useful items from the previous tenant. Spare keys to the flat, a set of tiny keys that locked and unlocked the windows (necessary for those with kids this high up), spare smoke alarm batteries and a folded up piece of paper.
The note was handwritten with “New occupier of flat 42” in beautiful cursive on the blank side. I opened it up and sat down to read. I can’t really describe it to you, so I’m going to copy it out below.
Dear New Occupier,
Firstly, welcome to your new home. I lived here before you for 35 years with my husband. Unfortunately he had an incident at home recently that I’d rather not discuss that claimed his life. My sister has now decided I can’t keep up with the demands of the property and has insisted that I move in with her and her husband. I was reluctant at first, but the stairs do kill me at my age and without Bernie it’s filled with sadness.
Anyway. When you’ve lived somewhere for as long as I have it feels like a person that you know. You understand it’s personality and what makes it tick. I thought it was probably pertinent that I impart some of that knowledge on you.
It’s a wonderful home, honestly, I have lived through best and worst years and leaving it behind is very emotional but if you are to survive and get the best out of it then there are some steps you need to follow.
1. The landlord will never bother you, he doesn’t visit, call or communicate in any way. But make sure to pay your rent in a timely fashion always. I have only dealt with him once in 35 years and let’s just say I never missed another rent day. Any repairs required you speak to the agent you rented the place with.
2. DO NOT use the communal lift between 1.11 and 3.33 am. Just don’t do it. This step is vital if you are to have a happy life here. It really is life or death. Don’t do it. This has cost me and many others in the building greatly and I would rather not elaborate on why you shouldn’t do this. Just please don’t do it. I cannot stress this enough.
3. When you hear the strange animal noises coming from flat 48 don’t question it, Mr Prentice lives there and he’s a lovely chap. Don’t be afraid to say hello to him in the corridor or on the stairs (he’s old school, so he never risks the lift) but whatever you do, don’t check on him when you hear the noises. You’ll know when you hear them.
4. If you ever come across a window cleaner on the balcony ignore him. He may seem like the nicest fellow you’ve ever had trying to sell you something at the door but it really is best that you don’t engage. He will go away if you ignore him. But he tries pretty hard the first few times so you’ll need some resilience. Whatever you do, don’t offer him anything. No money, no hot drink.
5. Don’t leave food scraps out. Bin or refrigerate them immediately. If you have small animals, it is imperative that you watch them eat and take away any leftover food immediately after they are done. This and rule 2 go hand in hand, the things forage all day and seem to really love animal feed. You don’t want them in your flat. I promise. You can leave what you want out between 1.11 and 3.33am so you may want to feed your pets then.
6. Don’t communicate with any neighbours who claim to come from flats 65-72. These flats suffered a fire in the late 80s that devastated the whole floor, all the residents died in their homes. The building was mostly council owned at the time and they never bothered to renovate the flats. They’ve been empty ever since but every now and again someone will knock at your door claiming to live in one of these flats and ask to borrow some sugar. They will seem entirely average but you must shut and lock the door immediately. I installed two extra security bolts to avoid these fuckers. I don’t like to swear at my age but they really are fuckers.
7. Simple one for you here, keep a weapon in each room. Sometimes you follow all these steps and something still slips through the net. Better to be safe than sorry.
8. The building has a committee that will try and get you to join. It’s one of those neighbours groups about improving living conditions for all residents. It’s a nice group and the lady who runs it - Terri from flat 26- is a fantastic neighbour. By all means get involved. But I wouldn’t recommend babysitting Terri’s 2 children. She’ll ask you, because the poor woman needs a break, but if you accept don’t say I didn’t warn you.
9. Stray hairless cats sometimes roam in the hallway. I know they’re supposedly a special, expensive breed, but they don’t belong to anyone. They’re mostly harmless, but don’t pick them up. Not unless you see one of those neighbours that claims to live in 65-72. Then grab the cat and lock it inside with you. It’ll burn your skin a little but the cats are friendly and I wouldn’t want to see them hurt.
10. There is no way to fix the damp patch on the ceiling in the bedroom. Sometimes it will turn a deep crimson and look quite concerning, but please try not to be alarmed, it doesn’t drip, it doesn’t get any bigger and it’s been there longer than I have. The landlord won’t budge on it, according the the agents. I flagged it many times, even called the police the first night it changed colour, but it was a waste of time and it will be for you too. It’s best to ignore it.
11. You can trust the postman. His name is Ian Flanders and he’s been the postman since before I moved in. He has his own key to the main door and delivers post to the door every morning at 8.54. I can’t include everything here, or it would become a novel but if you have any questions Ian will help you.
12. Finally, the first few weeks are the worst. You’ll feel like you’ve made a mistake, I’m sure reading this you already do, but if you can get through the first few weeks it really is a lovely block to live in. Every property has it quirks and this one is a little extra special, but you can be truly happy here if you just take my advice. I wish you all the best, I really do.
Yours truly,
Mrs Prudence Hemmings
I don’t really know what to think after reading the note. Hopefully it was some sort of joke but the agent had said the previous tenant was an elderly lady and I can’t see anyone named Prudence Hemmings attempting to play practical jokes on someone they’d never met.
There were also parts of the note I couldn’t disprove, there was indeed a large damp patch above the bed that me and Jamie had already discussed reporting. No crimson but it definitely existed. I had also commented on a beautiful Sphynx cat roaming the halls as we were moving in. I started to get seriously freaked out.
Our dream, our beautiful little home had just become a source of fear and confusion. I checked the time and it was 9.14. Damn it. Out of time to catch postman Ian. When I opened the door to check, sure enough, two letters addressed to a Mrs Hemmings sat on the doorstep.
At about 11.15 my worst fears were truly confirmed when a friendly middle aged looking man carrying window cleaning equipment knocked on my balcony door. I ignored him. I didn’t want to take the risk until I’d spoken to Jamie and showed him the note. I’d texted him already to rush home. I felt bad as the man rapped his knuckles against the door for over 10 minutes, but honestly the longer it went on the more I was terrified.
My windows were sparkling, and due to our lack of curtains I couldn’t even hide from his gaze. I felt so exposed. He stayed for a total of 30 minutes exactly and never once did he stop looking at me or knocking. He shouted the occasional ultra friendly line or humble request for a beverage in the heat through the door but I did my best to avoid eye contact.
When he finally left I looked outside every window in the flat, but I couldn’t see him on any of the other balconies or see any equipment suggesting he was around. He had vanished completely.
Jamie still hadn’t text me back, he must have been having a rough shift, it was a Friday and they were always busy. It wasn’t often that he didn’t reply. He was due home in around an hour anyway.
I read the note probably hundreds of times over, I tortured myself reading it for the next hour. Desperately waiting for Jamie to come through the door to tell me it was all crazy and I should relax.
I hoped for that so much.
But Jamie never came. His shift should have finished around midday but by 2pm he still wasn’t home. I panicked, I cried, I left over 100 voice messages on his phone but got nowhere. I finally decided it had been long enough that calling his work wouldn’t embarrass him and his boss told me that he had never turned up for his shift.
I thought about it, what could have happened? And then it hit me. Jamie’s shift started at 4am today. He would have left the flat at 3.15 and taken the lift down the stairs.
I don’t know what to do. I’ve tried to convince myself it was all just a big joke. Maybe Jamie wrote the note and got his boss in on it. A voice in my head kept telling me that he couldn’t write like that if he tried but I had to attempt to fool myself. It’s getting late and he still isn’t home, what if it’s all true? I think we made a big mistake."
One of my favourites, so haunting, so creepy.
"This is Col. Jacob Wayne of the United States Air Force. If you’re reading this right now, it is very important that you keep reading until the end. It should take three to five minutes, and it is extremely important that you read carefully and follow the instructions provided.
Humor me if you must, but please don’t look away until you've finished reading. Oh, and please try to stay calm. Any increase in your stress levels will draw Their attention.
Ergo, I won’t go into detail as to how you got where you are. How you got here isn’t as important as getting you out. Believe me when I say we are working on that right now. The best way to help yourself is to keep reading. Don’t scan ahead. Don’t read out loud. Just read.
Right now, you’re probably thinking back on the past few days and nothing felt out of the ordinary. You went about your regular daily activities with nothing unusual to report. That’s because They are very good, so good most people don’t even realize they’re in the simulation.
Even as our code works its way deeper into Their program, They are monitoring you. So please, remain calm.
It was tricky, but we found a way in to communicate directly with you. We had to embed this message into your daily routine so it didn’t draw Their attention. You’re probably reading this on Reddit, Facebook, or some other social media site. Might even be in an email forward or a book, we don't know. We can’t control how the message gets to you; we only know that you are receiving it.
Subliminally, as your eyes are passing over these words, a code is being uploaded into your brain. Think of it as a computer virus, or in this case, an antivirus. Your brain is an organic computer, and They exploited that. They hacked right into your subconscious mind and overwrote it with Their simulation code. That’s how They got in, and that’s why everything appears normal. You might think that you’re going about your daily life, but in reality you’re strapped to a table with tubes sticking out of your body.
Now that the code is uploading, you may begin to feel some sensations. For example, one ear might feel slightly warmer than the other. You might even feel an itch or tickle. Don’t scratch, just let it be. Ignore the dull background hum you might hear as well. That’s Their program. If They catch on before our code has time to work They will abort the simulation. If that happens, you will be lost to us forever.
Oh, and don’t be alarmed, but by now They realize we are in Their system. You may notice some small changes, specifically a slight shortness of breath or that you have to control your breathing manually. This is normal.
We know from other communication attempts that whenever They discover a code break in, the first system They power down is the one controlling your breathing. Thankfully, even in the simulation you are capable of breathing manually. Try it. Breathe in. Breathe out. Inhale. Exhale.
Awesome.
You’re doing just fine.
They’ve probably figured out there’s a glitch, but if our code is working we’ve disabled Their ability to do a hard reboot. Because of this, They will try other methods to disrupt the upload. It is very important that you ignore anything that might draw your attention from these words. If They pull you away before the upload completes it will delete our code. Block them out. Ignore the movements you see in your peripheral vision. Those sounds you hear, the voices, they aren’t family, friends, or coworkers in need of attention. They may even try to use your pets. They know your weaknesses.
Overlook the notifications popping up on your screen if you're on a phone or computer. Block them all out until you finish reading. It’s just another way They’ll try to break our communication link.
Evidently, if our code is working, the next thing you’ll notice is an overwhelming urge to swallow. You don’t realize it, but there’s a feeding tube down your throat. You'll only know it's there because your tongue won’t rest comfortably in your mouth. You might also become hyper aware of the amount of saliva being produced. Don’t overreact. If you have to swallow, just swallow. It’s only weird if you make it weird.
So, if you’re still reading this, the code upload is about 90% complete. We’ve locked onto your location. You’re doing great, but you’re really going to need to focus now. Once the upload is complete there will be instructions you will need to follow to exit the simulation. That is, if you’ve followed the instructions and haven’t looked away.
Complicating matters is the fact that They now know we’re here, and They know what we’re doing. Their attempts to divert your attention through the simulation proved unsuccessful, so now They’re going to use your body’s systems against you. THEY ARE IN YOUR BRAIN. They want you to blink. Don’t blink. Your life depends on keeping your eyes open.
Almost there, just a few paragraphs more until the code upload is complete. Don’t scan down, or up, just keep reading. I got you this far. Stay with me. Eyes open, eyes front, keep them locked on the screen.
PLEASE FOCUS! I don’t want to lose you. I’ve lost so many already. Ignore it all! Block everything out. Ignore that tickle on your scalp and the itch on your arm. That’s them, attempting a manual override. Don’t give up now, you’ve made it this far. FIGHT IT. You’re almost there. Just follow the instructions below and we can get you out.
Embedded in this text are the steps you need to follow to unplug from the simulation. If we did this correctly, the first letter of each paragraph will tell you what you need to do. DON'T LOOK YET. The upload still needs to finish. I hope you didn't look.
Upload complete. We’ve done everything we can on this end.
See you on the other side."
I love this story because the reader gets to interact with it (kinda like an ARG), and I feel like everyone would experience the sensations while reading it LOL.
"Every night on my walk home from work, I listen to true crime podcasts. Even though my favorite podcast already released their episode for this week, the app said there was a new one. Excited, I hit PLAY.
"It was a small town--the kind that still has Mom and Pop shops lining the street, the kind where everyone knows your name. But little did the residents know that they would soon be rocked by a horrible crime."
I stopped at a traffic light. The red glowed in the darkness, glinting off the wet street. A black SUV sloshed by. Across from me, eerie blue refrigerator lights glowed from inside a corner deli. The chairs all up on their tables, feet in the air.
The signal turned to WALK.
"That chilly September evening was no different for the young student. She'd left her shift at the local store and walked back home… except she never made it home."
Young student. Local store. Damn, this was hitting close to home. I was a part-time student at Franklin Community College, and worked at the local convenience store.
And, of course, I was walking home.
I glanced behind me--looking at the alleyway behind Alessandro's Pizza, which was dark except for the neon light spilling from the sign.
"Her boyfriend reported her missing the next day. The town conducted a volunteer-led search, and after two days, they found something."
Dread formed in my stomach, anticipating "a body." But what he said next was so, so much worse.
"Washed up on the shore of Worthington Lake, they found a pair of size 9 red Converse sneakers."
I stopped.
And looked down at my red Converse sneakers, damp from the rain.
What the hell?
My heart began to pound.
"The shoes were sent to a forensic analyst, who would compare its wear pattern to another pair of her shoes to try and determine if they belonged to the victim."
A rumbling sound made me jump. I turned--to see a dark SUV turning left at the intersection. Didn't I see that car a few minutes ago? Maybe it’s following me, and—
The car passed me and disappeared into the darkness.
Come on, Sarah. Get a grip. Converse are popular sneakers. A little out of fashion, but still. 9 is a common women's shoe size. And what college student doesn't have some sort of a job? What, you think you're listening to some sort of prophecy of your own death?
Yeah, right.
"After a few weeks, the results came back. The analyst was certain: the shoes belonged to none other than Sarah Campbell."
The blood drained from my face.
Sarah Campbell.
My name.
What the fuck? How--
I didn't have time to think. I forced myself to move. I broke into a run. The small shops turned into a colorful blur.
"Searching the lake came up empty. Without a body, a crime is hard to solve. But police didn't give up. And finally, a witness came forward: someone had seen a car parked at the lake that night, around 2 AM. A black SUV with darkened windows."
No, no, no.
What the hell is going on?
I whipped around. The street was empty. No people, no cars. No witnesses, said the little voice in the back of my mind, the one that’s watched way too many true crime shows. My eyes scanned the shops. All closed.
“There were six black SUVs matching the witness’s description in the Franklin area. But one of them, in particular, caught Detective Nolan’s eye. It belonged to Jon Kelly… a registered sex offender.”
Vrrrm.
The sound was so soft I almost didn’t hear it over the voice of the podcast. I whipped around—and there it was. Two blaring-white headlights behind me.
Coming from a black SUV.
I forced my legs to pump faster. The car didn't speed up; it crawled along, slowly, taking its time. Like the driver knew he could catch me, no matter what. I glanced back, trying to make him out behind the darkened windshield—but the headlights were too bright to see anything.
"Kelly wasn’t just a registered sex offender. He’d been convicted of assaulting a woman he worked with… who had multiple piercings and short dark hair, just like Sarah.”
The car crawled down the road. Stalking me, like a lioness stalks her prey. I veered left, onto our dark residential street.
Just a few more steps.
Headlights flashed across me, illuminating my running shadow on the pavement. I didn't look back. I just ran, as fast as I possibly could. The little brown house with the yellow shutters came into view. I sprinted across the grass, grabbing my keys from my pocket.
Click.
I threw the door open--and slammed it shut behind me.
Then I turned the deadbolt, collapsed against the door, and began crying.
I heard the rush of the car passing our house, continuing down the road. But I wasn't safe—Gabe wasn't home yet. I was alone, in a dark house, with someone driving down the street who knew exactly where I lived.
Still sobbing, I checked all the locks. Then I called Gabe, who assured me he was five minutes away.
I made my way down the dark hallway and headed into the bathroom. Then I set my phone on the counter, grabbed a clump of tissues, and began to blow my nose.
Click.
I jumped. Whipped around.
But it wasn't coming from outside the door. My phone's screen lit up--the podcast was still playing. I must have hit it when I put the phone down. It had skipped several minutes forward, according to the play indicator.
"What do you think happened to Sarah?" the baritone voice asked.
I reached for it, to turn it off—
“Well, she'd told me she wanted to run away before."
I stopped dead.
It was Gabe's voice. Clear as day, coming from the speakers.
"She did? Why?" the voice asked.
"She wasn't happy with her grades, her job, her parents. She told me sometimes she'd dream of just… moving to some random state and leaving it all behind."
I froze, staring at the mirror.
I never said that. Never.
Gabe… was lying?
"I mean, that was hurtful to me as her boyfriend, you know? I thought we were going to get married someday. But apparently she didn't feel the same way."
My heart pounded in my ears.
“So you think she just skipped town, and is happily living her life out somewhere else? Rather than being abducted or murdered?”
A pause.
“Yes. That’s exactly what I think.”
"That’s all for now! Thank you to our listeners…" The outro played. I stared at my reflection, everything coming down all at once, my mind trying to race and catch up with what it meant—
The front door creaked open. Footsteps sounded outside.
"Sarah! I'm back!"
I backed away from the door.
"Sarah?"
My eyes fell on the window. I ran over to it, turned the lock. Push--I popped the screen out.
Then I swung a leg over, pulled myself through the window, and ran as fast as I could."
I just enjoyed this one.
"They started innocently enough.
Don’t forget your keys read the first message, scrawled on a sticky note in loopy letters. It had been left on my fridge door.
It immediately grabbed my attention because at the time I lived alone, I had no memory of writing it, and the handwriting didn’t match mine or anyone I knew. I was slightly perturbed, but wasn’t sure how to react. In the end I just tossed the note and went to work.
The second note came a few days later, left on my kitchen counter. The sticky note was pink this time but still had the same distinctive loopy handwriting.
Make sure to pack a lunch today.
Again, I was unsettled. Now, any normal person might have reported this to the police, but during that time I was going through a major depressive spell. I had moved to a new city away from my friends and family, and had started a new job that I quickly realized I hated and didn’t nearly pay enough. Home was lonely and work was soul crushing. I had trouble enough getting out of bed each morning, let alone filing a report that I am sure the police would not take seriously. Even more stressed, I crumpled up the note. However, I ended up packing a small lunch for myself. Usually I didn’t bother to put in the effort and just ate cafeteria food, but against my better judgment I fulfilled the wishes of the note.
That day the cafeteria was closed. The main cafeteria fridge had broken overnight and many of the frozen lunches inside had gone bad. Management thought it would be better to shut it down for the day. A feeling of unease settled in my stomach after learning the news. It was as if the note had predicted it.
The notes continued throughout the following weeks. They would typically show up on random days, no more than three notes to a day. They were all left in obvious places in my apartment, all on sticky notes, and in that unfamiliar loopy handwriting. They began to grow more prophetic.
Take I-80 today. There will be a bad accident on your way home.
Janet is going to offer you some cookies at the office. Politely decline. They will give you food poisoning.
Marie has been on a diet. Compliment her on her weight loss. She’ll end up thinking well of you.
Of course, I tested the notes to see if they were accurate. Every time I ignored their advice, whatever it warned against came true. One day a note said to pack an umbrella, and I purposely didn’t. It was forecasted to be sunny that day so any normal person wouldn’t think to pack one, but sure enough I got soaked that evening walking to my car.
I was incredibly curious about the notes. There were so many questions I had about them, and those unanswered questions kept festering in my head. I tried writing notes back in return and leaving them out, but never got a response. I’d speak out loud and ask questions as if (or in case) the note writer could somehow hear me, but this only made me feel foolish. I’d occasionally make a surprise visit home at odd hours, just to see if I could catch the note writer leaving their notes. Of course, I never caught them. I tried installing cameras in my apartment, even making sure all of the cameras were completely hidden, but the next day I found every single one of the camera’s insides completely torn out and placed on the kitchen table with a single note next to them reading:
Never do that again.
The notes stopped coming after that, which made me deeply regretful. I had grown accustomed to the notes. I had begun to rely on them even. They had significantly improved my way of life over the last few months both mentally, financially, and socially. I had actually started making friends at the office thanks to their advice, and for the first time in my life I was even a bit popular. My managers, who before the notes didn’t pay much interest in me, now valued my presence and would ask for my opinion on projects. It was no secret I was on my way to a promotion. Could I still do that without the notes?
I also valued the notes as a friend, as weird as that sounds. Or more like a guardian angel. Wherever they were from, they were always protecting me. Without them, the future was suddenly unknown, dangerous. Every time some mild annoyance popped up from that point, from bad traffic to stressful work situations and even a minor paper cut, I thought about how this all probably could have been avoided if I still had the notes.
The next week, a bright green sticky note appeared on my bathroom mirror.
Don’t forget to call Mom today. It is her birthday.
I nearly cried. I decided to sack my investigation and just accept things as they were. Slowly, the fog of my depressive spell began to lift and I could feel myself returning to how I used to be. My confidence rose and for the first time in a while I felt in equilibrium with my life. I went out, cracked jokes, and even managed to clean up my apartment.
I also managed to get a girlfriend somehow. Her name was Amanda. I met her at a pub when I was out with my buddies. The best part of all this is that for some reason, she seemed to actually be into me. She was gorgeous, (way out of my league really) with long Auburn hair that reached down to her back with soft brown eyes. Her laugh was lovely and the lemon scented perfume she liked to wear was intoxicating. She was the type of girl you could chat with for hours and never run out of things to talk about. The relationship was still new so I was trying not to plan our whole future together in my head, but she was so lovable it was hard not to.
At some point I briefly thought about telling her about the notes. I’ve always wanted to tell someone about it but never really had anyone to tell up until now. I decided not to however, afraid she might think I was crazy. There was no point so early in the relationship making her think I was a loon. Plus I was afraid the notes might stop again. If whoever was leaving them clearly didn’t want me looking into them, how would they react if I shared what was happening with somebody? So at the moment I kept it to myself.
Amanda had a hobby of cooking and had invited me to her house on Saterday for, in her words, “the best fucking spaghetti you’ll ever eat”. I was pumped since this was the first time I would actually visit her house.
I was in a good mood that evening as I was getting ready for the date. I hummed to myself happily thinking about how lovely this was going to be, and went downstairs to grab my keys. On the kitchen counter was a new hot pink sticky note. I picked it up instinctively.
KILL YOUR GIRLFRIEND.
My brain stopped for a moment. I read it once, twice, a third time, the words flashing in my brain but hitting an error every time. I set the note down and gulped, feeling nauseous. Anxiously, I went to my car and started driving. I tried not to think about the note but the words kept circling in my mind. Kill your girlfriend. The notes have never failed me before, and they were always in my best interest as far as I knew... which was admittedly not much. Maybe they were wrong this time? Maybe it wasn’t meant to be taken literally? “Kill” could be a synonym for “break up”, right? My mind kept trying to make up poor excuses the whole way there. By the time I arrived I was a sweaty mess and not a lick calmer.
I pulled down my sun visor to check my face and a bright green sticky note fluttered out. I went cold. The notes had never appeared outside my house before. Hands shaking, I picked up the note and read it.
KILL AMANDA. TAKE THE GUN FROM YOUR GLOVEBOX AND SHOOT HER.
I looked at my glovebox wide eyed. I did indeed keep a handgun in my glovebox for safety purposes. I wanted to puke, to believe this wasn’t happening. Again, I ignored the note and walked up to Amanda’s house, trying to shake the message from my mind. She answered the door almost immediately after I rang the doorbell.
“Hey what’s up!” She said with a bright smile, but when she saw my face the smile dropped.
“You ok Gary, what’s wrong?” She said in concern.
“Nothing.” I lied, trying to force a smile. “Well, actually I think I have a bit of a stomach ache...”
“Come in, come in,” she said, ushering me in. The inside of her house was cute and homely, and she fretted over me worriedly as she led me over to her kitchen table. She then took my hand and rubbed it comfortingly.
“If you’re not feeling up to spaghetti, we can always have it another time. Don’t worry about it. Do you want any antacids or something?”
I smiled. The way she was so concerned for me over a simple stomach ache made me fall in love with her all over again. My heart panged with both love and guilt. The aroma of cooked spaghetti was also extremely strong, and even though she said it was fine I knew it would probably be a bummer for her to pack away all that spaghetti after just making it.
“I’m fine sweety. I probably have a stomach ache because I haven't eaten much today. I was looking forward so much for your spaghetti.”
Her smile returned again. I always loved how fast she smiled at things.
“Well then Mr. Hungry, let me grab you a bowl!”
She left for the kitchen. I reclined back and sighed, sticking my hands in my pockets. I felt a crinkle of paper. Shit. Shit. I pulled the paper out of my right pocket.
TAKE YOUR CHAIR AND BASH HER HEAD IN
I had a hard time controlling my breathing as I stuffed the note back in my right pocket. I also felt paper in my left pocket, and against my mind screaming for me not to, I pulled it out, realizing that it was actually two notes crinkled together. Shakily, I unwrinkled the first note.
DO NOT EAT THE SPAGHETTI. DRUGGED
“What’s that Gary?” Asked Amanda behind me.
I nearly jumped out of my skin. I stuffed the notes back in my left pocket.
“Oh, j-just some note from work I forgot was in my pocket is all!” I said in a weird voice.
She frowned, looked like she wanted to say something, but then thought better of it.
“Here Babe”, she said gently, handing me a bowl of spaghetti. It looked heavenly. I wanted to puke.
She sat next to me with her own bowl. She rested her head in her hands and looked at me excitedly, expectantly. I stared at her blankly.
“Well, take a bite silly!” She said, gesturing towards my bowl.
“I-I uh, I’m so s-sorry. I really need to use your bathroom.”
I jumped up and started looking for her bathroom. She jumped up after me, looking confused.
“Gary? What’s wrong? You’ve been acting weird.”
When I found the right door, I went in and locked the door behind me. She kept knocking and knocking.
“Gary? Gary! Seriously, what’s wrong with you? Is the stomach ache that bad? Talk to me Gary, please!”
I backed up and against the bathroom wall, then sank down to the floor. I pulled out the two notes from my left pocket again, this time reading the second note. My heart sank.
SHE IS NOT AMANDA."
I honestly wish I could write scary stories like this, haha.
Thanks for reading!
Stay spooky, folks!
Ash x
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