November 6, 2025 • 31 mins
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:17):
Welcome back to story Time with Rob Man. It's been
a long time. I don't even know if I can
remember even how to do this. But if this is
your first time here and you're not sure what to expect,
it's a little bit different from the main episode. So
this is just you know, me reading some internet story
so just for you to sit back, relax, and hopefully
I'll find some good stories. I tell you guys, so
(00:39):
I'll just go ahead and get into it. Bedtime is
supposed to be a happy event for a tired child.
For me, it was terrifying. While some children might plain
(01:00):
about being put to bed before they have finished watching
a film or playing their favorite video game, when I
was a child, nighttime was something to truly fear somewhere
in the back.
Speaker 2 (01:12):
Of my mind. It still is.
Speaker 1 (01:16):
As someone who's trained in the sciences, I cannot prove
that what happened to me was objectively real, but I
can swear that what I experienced was a genuine horror,
a fear which in my life, I'm glad to say,
has never been equaled. I will relate it to you
now as best as I can make of it what
you will, but I'll be glad to just get it.
Speaker 2 (01:38):
Off my chest.
Speaker 1 (01:41):
I can't remember exactly when it started, but my apprehension
towards falling asleep seemed to correspond with my being moved
into a room of my own. I was eight years
old at the time, and until then I had shared
a room quite happily with my older brother, as perfectly
understandable for a boy five years my senior. My brother
eventually wished for a room of his own, and as
(02:03):
a result, I was given the room at the back
of the house. It was a small, narrow, yet oddly
elongated room, large enough for a bed and a couple
chest of drawers, but not much else. I couldn't really complain,
because even at that age, I understood that we did
not have a large house, and I had no real
(02:24):
cause to be disappointed, as my family was both loving
and caring.
Speaker 2 (02:28):
It was a happy childhood.
Speaker 1 (02:30):
During the day, a solitary window looked out onto our
back garden, nothing out of the ordinary, but even during
the day, the light which crept into that room seemed
almost hesitant. As my brother was given a new bed,
I was given the bunk beds which we used to share.
(02:50):
While I was upset about sleeping on my own. I
was excited at the thought of being able to sleep
in the top bunk, which seemed far more adventurous to me.
From the very first night, I remember a strange feeling
of unease creeping slowly.
Speaker 2 (03:04):
From the back of my mind.
Speaker 1 (03:07):
I lay on the top bunk, staring down at my
action figures and cars strewn across the green blue carpet.
As imaginary battles and adventures took place between the toys
on the floor. I couldn't help but feel that my
eyes were being slowly drawn towards the bottom bunk, as
if something was moving in the corner of my eye,
something which did not wish to be seen. The bunk
(03:31):
was empty, impeccably made, with a dark blue blanket tucked
in neatly, partially covering two rather bland white pillows. I
didn't think anything of it at the time. I was
a child, and the noise slipping under my door from
my parents' television bathed me in a warm sense of safety.
Speaker 2 (03:50):
And well being. I fell asleep.
Speaker 1 (03:57):
When you awaken from a deep sleep to something moving
or stirring, they can take a few moments for you
to truly understand what is happening. The fog of sleep
hangs over your eyes and ears, even when lucid. Something
was moving. There was no doubt about that. At first,
(04:19):
I wasn't sure what it was. Everything was dark, almost
pitch black, but there was enough light creeping in from
the outside to outline that narrow, suffocating room. Two thoughts
appeared in my mind almost simultaneously. The first was that
my parents were in bed, because the rest of the
house lay both in darkness and silence. The second thought
(04:44):
turned to the noise, a noise which had.
Speaker 2 (04:47):
Obviously woken me.
Speaker 1 (04:50):
As the last cobwebs of sleep withered from my mind,
the noise took on a more familiar form. Sometimes the
simplest of sounds can be the most unnerve a cold
wind whistling through a tree outside, a neighbor's footsteps uncomfortably close, or,
in this case, the simple sound of bed sheets rustling
(05:10):
in the dark. That was it, bed sheets rustling in
the dark, as if some disturbed sleeper was attempting to
get all too comfortable in the bottom bunk. I lay
there in disbelieve, thinking that the noise was either my
imagination or perhaps just my pet cat finding somewhere comfortable
(05:30):
to spend the night. It was then that I noticed
my door shut, as it had been as I'd fallen asleep.
Perhaps my mom had checked in on me and the
cat sneaked into my room. Yeah, that must have been it.
I turned to face the wall, closing my eyes in vain,
hoped that I could fall back asleep. As I moved,
(05:54):
the rustling noise from underneath me ceased. I thought that
I must have disturbed my cat, but quickly I realized
that the visitor in the bottom bunk was much less
mundane than my cat trying to sleep, and much more sinister,
As if alerted to and disgruntled by my presence, the
(06:14):
disturbed sleeper began to toss and turn violently, like a
child having a tantrum in their bed. I could hear
the sheets twist and turn with increasing ferocity. Fear then
gripped me, now like the subtle sense of unneies that
I'd experienced earlier, but now potent and terrifying. My heart
(06:35):
raised as my eyes panicked, scanning the almost impenetrable darkness, I.
Speaker 2 (06:40):
Let out a cry.
Speaker 1 (06:43):
As most young boys do, I instinctively shouted on my mother.
I could hear something stir on the other side.
Speaker 2 (06:50):
Of the house.
Speaker 1 (06:51):
As I began to breathe a sigh of relief that
my parents were coming to save me, the bunk beds
suddenly started to shake violently, as if gripped.
Speaker 2 (06:58):
By an earthquake. Against the wall.
Speaker 1 (07:01):
I could hear the sheets below me thrashing around, as
if tormented by malice.
Speaker 2 (07:07):
I did not want to jump down to safeties.
Speaker 1 (07:09):
I feared the thing in the bottom bunk would reach
out and grab me, pulling me into the darkness. So
I stayed there, white knuckles clenching my own blanket like
a shroud of protection. The weight seemed like an eternity.
The door finally and thankfully burst open, and I lay
bathed in light, while the bottom bunk, the resting place
of my unwanted visitor, lay empty and peaceful. I cried,
(07:33):
and my mother consoled me. Tears of fear, followed by relief,
streamed down my face. Yet through all of the horror
and relief, I did not tell her why I was
so upset. I cannot explain it. That it was though
whatever had been in that bunk would return if I
even so much spoke of it or uttered a single
(07:55):
syllable of its existence. Whether that was the truth, I
don't know, but as a child I felt as if that.
Speaker 2 (08:03):
Unseen menace remained close. Listening.
Speaker 1 (08:10):
My mother lay in the empty bunk, promising to stay
there until morning, and eventually my anxiety diminished. Tiredness pushed
me back towards sleep, but I remained restless, waking several times,
momentarily to the sound of rustling bed sheets. I remember
the next day wanting to go anywhere, be anywhere, but
(08:32):
in that narrow, suffocating room. It was a Saturday, and
I played outside quite happily with my friends. Although our
house was not large, we were lucky to have a long,
sloping garden in the back. We played there often, as
much of it was overgrown, and we could hide in
the bushes, climbing the huge sycamore tree which towered above
(08:53):
all else, and easily imagine ourselves in the throes of
a grand adventure in some untamed exiles land. As fun
as it was, occasionally my eye would turn to that
small window, ordinary slight and innocuous, but for me, that
thin boundary was looking glass into strange, cold pocket of dread.
(09:17):
Outside the lush green surroundings of our garden, filled with
the smiling faces of my friends, could not extinguish a
creeping feeling clawing its way up my spine, each hair
standing on end, the feeling of something in that room
watching me play, waiting for the night when I would
be alone, eagerly filled with hate. It may sound strange
(09:44):
to you, but by the time my parents ushered me
back into that room for the night.
Speaker 2 (09:50):
I said nothing.
Speaker 1 (09:53):
I didn't protest, I didn't even make an excuse as
to why I couldn't sleep there. I simply sullenly walked
into that room, climbed a few steps up to the
top bunk, and waited. As an adult, I would be
telling everyone about my experience, but even.
Speaker 2 (10:11):
At that age, I felt.
Speaker 1 (10:13):
Almost silly to be talking about something which I really
had no evidence for.
Speaker 2 (10:18):
I would be lying.
Speaker 1 (10:19):
However, if I said this was my primary reason, I
still felt like this thing would be enraged if I
so much spoke of it. It's funny how certain words
can remain hidden from your mind, no matter how blatant
or obvious they are. One word came to me that
second night, lying there in the darkness alone, frightened, aware
(10:42):
of a rotten change in the atmosphere, a thickening of
an air, as if something had displaced it. As I
heard the first casual twists of the bedsheets below, the
first anxious increase of my heart beat at the realization
that something was once again in the bottom bunk, That word,
a word which had been sent into exile, filtered up
(11:05):
through my consciousness, breaking free of all repression, gasping for air, screaming, etching,
and carving itself into my mind ghost As this came
to me, I noticed that my unwelcome visitor had ceased
to move. The bedsheets lay calm and dormant, but they
(11:28):
had been replaced by something far more hideous. A slow, rhythmic,
grasping breath heaved and escaped from the thing below. I
could imagine its chest rising and falling with each sordid,
wheezing and garbled breath. I shuddered and hoped, beyond all hope,
that it would leave without occurrence. The house lay as
(11:52):
it had the previous night, in a thick blanket of darkness.
Silence prevailed all but for the perverted breath of my
as yet unseen bunk mate.
Speaker 2 (12:05):
I lay there, terrified. I just wanted this thing to
go to leave me alone? What did it want?
Speaker 1 (12:15):
Then, something unmistakably chilling transpired.
Speaker 2 (12:19):
It moved.
Speaker 1 (12:20):
It moved in a way different from before when it
threw itself around the bottom bunk. It seemed unrestrained, without purpose,
almost animalistic. This movement, however, was driven by awareness, with purpose,
with a goal in mind for that thing lying there
in the darkness. That thing seemed intent on terrorizing a
(12:42):
young boy. Calmly and nonchalantly sat up. Its labored breathing
had become louder, as now only a mattress and a
few flimsy wooden slats separated my body from the unearthly
breath blow. I lay there with my eyes filled with tears.
A fear which mere words cannot relate to you or
anyone else, coursed through my veins. I would not have
(13:06):
believed this fear could have been heightened, but I was
so wrong. I imagine what this thing would look like,
sitting there, listening from below my mattress, hoping to catch
the slightest hent that I was awake. Imagination then turned
an unnerving reality. It began to touch the wooden slats
which my mattress sat on. It seemed to caress them,
(13:30):
carefully running what I imagined to be fingers and hands
across the surface of the wood. Then, with great force,
it prodded angrily between two slats into the mattress, even
through the padding. It felt as though someone had viciously stuck.
Speaker 2 (13:48):
Their fingers into my side.
Speaker 1 (13:51):
I let out an almighty cry, and the wheezing, shaking
and moving thing in the bunk below replied in kind
by violently vibrating the bunk as it did done the
night before. Small flakes of paint powdered onto my blanket
from the wall as the frame of the bed scraped
along it, backwards and forwards. Once again, I was bathed
(14:13):
in light, and there stood my mother, loving, caring as
she always was, with a comforting hug and calming words
which eventually subdued my hysteria. Of course, she asked what
was wrong, but I could not say. I dared not say.
Speaker 2 (14:34):
I simply said one word, over and over and over again, nightmare.
Speaker 1 (14:45):
This pattern of events continued for weeks, if not months.
Night after night I would awaken to the sound of
rustling sheets. Each time I would scream so as to
not provide this abomination with time to prod and feel me.
With each cry, the bed would shake violently, stopping with
the arrival of my mother, who'd spend the rest of
(15:07):
the night in the bottom bunk, seemingly unaware of the
sinister force torturing her son.
Speaker 2 (15:12):
Nightly.
Speaker 1 (15:13):
Along the way, I managed to feign illness a few
times and come up with other less than truthful reasons
for sleeping in my parents' bed. But more often than
not I would be alone for the first few hours
of each night in that place, the room where the
light from the outside did not sit right.
Speaker 2 (15:32):
Alone with that thing.
Speaker 1 (15:37):
With time, you can become desensitized to almost anything, no
matter how horrific. I had come to realize that, for
whatever reason, this thing could not harm me when my
mother was present. I am sure the same would have
been said for my father, but as loving as he was,
waking him.
Speaker 2 (15:55):
From sleep was almost impossible. A few months I had.
Speaker 1 (16:00):
Grown accustomed to my nightly visitor. Do not mistake this
for some unearthly friendship. I detested the thing. I still
feared it greatly, as I could almost sense its desire
and personality, if you could call it that, one filled
with a perverted and twisted hatred, yet longing for me.
Speaker 2 (16:21):
Of perhaps all things, my greatest fears were realized.
Speaker 1 (16:27):
In the winter, the days grew short, and the longer
nights merely provided this wretch with more opportunities. It was
a difficult time for my family. My grandmother, a wonderfully
kind and gentle woman, had deteriorated greatly since.
Speaker 2 (16:43):
The death of my grandfather.
Speaker 1 (16:45):
My mother was trying her best to keep her in
the community as long as possible. However, dementia is a
cruel and degenerative illness, robbing a person of their memories
one day at a time. Soon she recognized none of us,
and it became clear that she would need to be
moved from her house to a nursing home. Before she
(17:05):
could be moved, my grandmother had a particularly difficult few nights,
and my mother decided that she would stay with her.
As much as I loved my grandmother and felt nothing
but anguish at her illness, to this day, I still
feel guilty that my first thoughts were not of her,
but of what my nightly visitor may do should have
(17:26):
become aware of my mother's absence, her presence being the
only thing that was protecting me from the full horror
of its reach.
Speaker 2 (17:37):
I rushed home from school.
Speaker 1 (17:39):
That day and immediately wrenched at the bed sheets and
mattress from the lower bunk, removing all the slats and
placing an old desk, a chest of drawers, and some chairs,
which we kept in a cupboard where the bottom bunk
used to be.
Speaker 2 (17:53):
I told my father I.
Speaker 1 (17:54):
Was making an office, which he found adorable, but I
would be damned.
Speaker 2 (17:59):
If I'd give that thing place to sleep for one
more night.
Speaker 1 (18:04):
As darkness approached, I lay there, knowing that my mother
was not in the house. I didn't know what to do.
My only impulse was to sneak into her jewelry box
and take a small family crucifix, which I had seen
there before. While my family were not very religious at
that age, I still believed in God and hope that
(18:25):
somehow this would protect me. Although fearful and anxious while
gripping the crucifix under my pillow tightly in one hand,
sleep eventually came, and as I drifted off to dream
I hoped that I would awaken in the morning without incident. Unfortunately,
that night was the most.
Speaker 2 (18:45):
Terrifying of all.
Speaker 1 (18:49):
I wow Gradually the room was once again dark. As
my eyes had adjusted, I could gradually make out the
window and the door were, and the walls, some toys
on the shelf, And.
Speaker 2 (19:07):
Even to this day I shuddered to think of it, for.
Speaker 1 (19:10):
There was no noise, no rustling of sheets, no movement
at all. The room felt lifeless, lifeless yet not empty.
The nightly visitor, that unwelcome, wheezing, hate filled thing which
(19:32):
had terrorized me night after night, was not in the
bottom bunk. It was in my bed. I opened my
mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Utter terror had
shaken the very sound from my voice. I lay motionless.
If I could not scream, I did not want to
let it know I was awake. I had not yet
(19:55):
seen it. I could only feel it. It was obscured
under my blanket. I could see its outline. I could
feel its presence, but I dare not look the weight
of it pressed down on top of me, a sensation
I will never forget.
Speaker 2 (20:11):
When I say that hours passed, I do not exaggerate.
Speaker 1 (20:17):
Laying there, motionless in the darkness, I was every bit
a scared and frightened young boy. If it had been
during the summer months, it would have been light by then,
But the grasp of winter is long and unrelenting, and
I knew it would be hours before the sunrise, a
sunrise which I yearned for. I was a timid child
(20:38):
by nature. But I reached a breaking point, a moment
where I could wait no more, where I could survive
under this intimate, deviant abomination no longer. Fear can sometimes
wear you out, make you threadbare, a shell of nerves,
leaving only the slightest trace.
Speaker 2 (20:55):
Of you behind.
Speaker 1 (20:56):
I had to get out of that bed. Then I
remember the crucifix. My hand still lay underneath the pillow,
but it was empty.
Speaker 2 (21:06):
I slowly moved.
Speaker 1 (21:07):
My wrist around to find it, minimizing as best as
I could the sound and vibrations that it caused. But
it couldn't be found. I had either knocked it off
the top bunk, or it had I just couldn't bear
to think of it been taken from my hand.
Speaker 2 (21:27):
Without the crucifix, I lost any sense of hope.
Speaker 1 (21:30):
Even at such a young age, you can be acutely
aware of what death is and intensely frightened of it.
I knew I was going to die in that bed
if I lay there dormant, passive, doing nothing. I had
to leave that room behind. But how should I leap
(21:51):
from the bed and hope that I make it to
the door.
Speaker 2 (21:54):
What if it's faster than me?
Speaker 1 (21:56):
Or should I slowly slip out of that top bunk,
hoping not to disturb my uncanny bedfellow. Realizing that it
did not stir when I moved trying to find the crucifix,
I began to have the strangest of thoughts.
Speaker 2 (22:15):
What if I was asleep? It hadn't so much of
breathe since I'd woken up.
Speaker 1 (22:23):
Perhaps it was resting, believing that it had finally got me,
that I was finally in its grasp.
Speaker 2 (22:32):
Or perhaps it was toying with me.
Speaker 1 (22:35):
After all, it had been doing just that for countless nights,
and now with me under it, pinned against my mattress,
with no mother to protect me. Maybe it was holding off,
savoring its victory until the last possible moment, like a
wild animal savoring its prey. I tried to breathe as
shallowly as possible, and mustering every ounce of courage that
(22:59):
I could. I reached over slowly with my right hand
and began to peel the blanket off of me. What
I found under those covers almost stopped my heart. I
did not see it, but as my hand moved the blanket,
it brushed against something, something smooth and cold, something which
(23:23):
felt unmistakably like a gaunt hand. I held my breath
in tear as I was sure it must now know
that I was awake.
Speaker 2 (23:37):
Nothing.
Speaker 1 (23:39):
It didn't stir, It felt dead. After a few moments,
I placed my hand carefully further down the blanket and
felt a thin, poorly formed forearm. My confidence, an almost
twisted sense of curiosity, grew as I moved further to
(23:59):
a disproportionately larger bicep muscle. The arm was outstretched, lying
across my chest, with the hand resting on my left shoulder,
as if it grabbed me in my sleep. I realized
that I would have to move this cadaverous appendage if
I even so much hoped to escape its grasp. For
(24:22):
some reason, the feeling of torn, ragged clothing on the
shoulder of this nighttime invader stopped me in my tracks.
Fear once again swelled in my stomach and in my chest.
As I recoiled my hand in disgust at the touch
of straggled, oily hair. I could not bring myself to
touch its face, although I wondered to this very day
(24:44):
what it would have felt like. Dear God, it moved,
It moved. It was subtle, but its gripped under my
shoulder and across my body strengthened. No tears came, but God,
how I wanted to cry. As its hand and arm
slowly coiled around me. My right leg brushed along the
(25:05):
cool wall which the.
Speaker 2 (25:06):
Bed lay against.
Speaker 1 (25:08):
Of all that happened to me in that room, this
was the strangest. I realized that this clutching, rancid thing
which drew great delight from violating a young boy's bed,
was not entirely on top of me. It was sticking
out from the wall, like a spider striking from its layer.
(25:28):
Suddenly its grip moved from a slow tightening to a
sudden squeeze. It pulled and clawed on my clothes, as
if frightened that the opportunity would soon pass. I fought
against it, but its emaciated arm was too strong for me.
Its head rose up, writhing and contorting under the blanket.
I now realized where it was taking me into the wall.
(25:52):
I fought for dear life. I cried, and suddenly my
voice returned to me, yelling, screaming, but no one came.
Then I realized why it was so eager to suddenly strike,
why this thing had to have me. Now through my window,
that window, which seemed to represent so much malice from
(26:12):
the outside, streaked hope the first rays of sunshine. I
struggled further, knowing that if I could just hold on,
it would soon be gone. As I fought for my life,
the unearthly parasite shifted, slowly, pulling itself up my chest,
its head now poking out from under the blanket, wheezing, coughing, rasping.
(26:39):
I did not remember its features. I simply remember its
breath against my face, foul and cold as ice. As
the sun broke over the horizon, that dark place, that
suffocating room of contempt, was washed bathed in sunlight. I
(27:01):
passed out as its scrawny fingers encircled my neck, squeezing
the very life for me. I awoke to my father,
offering to make me some breakfast.
Speaker 2 (27:19):
A wonderful sight.
Speaker 1 (27:20):
Indeed, I had survived the most horrible experience of my
life until then, and now I moved the bed away
from the wall, leaving behind the furniture that I had
believed that would stop them from taking a bed. Little
did I think that it would try to take mine
and me. Weeks past without incident, Yet on one cold,
(27:46):
frostbit night, I awoke to the sound of the furniture
where the bunk beds used to be vibrating violently. In
a moment it passed, I lay there, sure that I
could hear a distant wheezing coming from deep within the wall,
(28:07):
finally fading into the distance. I've never told anyone this
story before. To this day, I still break out in
a cold sweat at the sound of bed sheets rustling
in the night, or a wheze brought on by a
common cold. And I certainly never sleep with my bed
against a wall. Call it superstition if you will. But
(28:31):
as I said, I cannot discount conventional explanations such as
sleep paralysis, hallucination, or that of an over active imagination.
But what I can say is this. The following year,
I was given a larger room on the other side
of the house, and my parents took that strangely suffocating,
(28:52):
elongated place as their bedroom. They said they didn't need
a large room, just one big enough for a bed
and a few things. They lasted ten days, we moved
on the eleventh, and there we have it. That was
(29:24):
part one of this story, which looks like it's going
to be a little serious. So I wanted to come
back with something that I knew I would have more material,
kind of tell you a little bit of a longer
story and hopefully, hopefully you're enjoying it so far, so
if you are, stay tuned for the next one, which
should be coming up shortly.
Speaker 2 (29:44):
Until then, I'm rob and Sweet Dreams. M.
Welcome back to story Time with Rob Man. It's been
a long time. I don't even know if I can
remember even how to do this. But if this is
your first time here and you're not sure what to expect,
it's a little bit different from the main episode. So
this is just you know, me reading some internet story
so just for you to sit back, relax, and hopefully
I'll find some good stories. I tell you guys, so
(00:39):
I'll just go ahead and get into it. Bedtime is
supposed to be a happy event for a tired child.
For me, it was terrifying. While some children might plain
(01:00):
about being put to bed before they have finished watching
a film or playing their favorite video game, when I
was a child, nighttime was something to truly fear somewhere
in the back.
Speaker 2 (01:12):
Of my mind. It still is.
Speaker 1 (01:16):
As someone who's trained in the sciences, I cannot prove
that what happened to me was objectively real, but I
can swear that what I experienced was a genuine horror,
a fear which in my life, I'm glad to say,
has never been equaled. I will relate it to you
now as best as I can make of it what
you will, but I'll be glad to just get it.
Speaker 2 (01:38):
Off my chest.
Speaker 1 (01:41):
I can't remember exactly when it started, but my apprehension
towards falling asleep seemed to correspond with my being moved
into a room of my own. I was eight years
old at the time, and until then I had shared
a room quite happily with my older brother, as perfectly
understandable for a boy five years my senior. My brother
eventually wished for a room of his own, and as
(02:03):
a result, I was given the room at the back
of the house. It was a small, narrow, yet oddly
elongated room, large enough for a bed and a couple
chest of drawers, but not much else. I couldn't really complain,
because even at that age, I understood that we did
not have a large house, and I had no real
(02:24):
cause to be disappointed, as my family was both loving
and caring.
Speaker 2 (02:28):
It was a happy childhood.
Speaker 1 (02:30):
During the day, a solitary window looked out onto our
back garden, nothing out of the ordinary, but even during
the day, the light which crept into that room seemed
almost hesitant. As my brother was given a new bed,
I was given the bunk beds which we used to share.
(02:50):
While I was upset about sleeping on my own. I
was excited at the thought of being able to sleep
in the top bunk, which seemed far more adventurous to me.
From the very first night, I remember a strange feeling
of unease creeping slowly.
Speaker 2 (03:04):
From the back of my mind.
Speaker 1 (03:07):
I lay on the top bunk, staring down at my
action figures and cars strewn across the green blue carpet.
As imaginary battles and adventures took place between the toys
on the floor. I couldn't help but feel that my
eyes were being slowly drawn towards the bottom bunk, as
if something was moving in the corner of my eye,
something which did not wish to be seen. The bunk
(03:31):
was empty, impeccably made, with a dark blue blanket tucked
in neatly, partially covering two rather bland white pillows. I
didn't think anything of it at the time. I was
a child, and the noise slipping under my door from
my parents' television bathed me in a warm sense of safety.
Speaker 2 (03:50):
And well being. I fell asleep.
Speaker 1 (03:57):
When you awaken from a deep sleep to something moving
or stirring, they can take a few moments for you
to truly understand what is happening. The fog of sleep
hangs over your eyes and ears, even when lucid. Something
was moving. There was no doubt about that. At first,
(04:19):
I wasn't sure what it was. Everything was dark, almost
pitch black, but there was enough light creeping in from
the outside to outline that narrow, suffocating room. Two thoughts
appeared in my mind almost simultaneously. The first was that
my parents were in bed, because the rest of the
house lay both in darkness and silence. The second thought
(04:44):
turned to the noise, a noise which had.
Speaker 2 (04:47):
Obviously woken me.
Speaker 1 (04:50):
As the last cobwebs of sleep withered from my mind,
the noise took on a more familiar form. Sometimes the
simplest of sounds can be the most unnerve a cold
wind whistling through a tree outside, a neighbor's footsteps uncomfortably close, or,
in this case, the simple sound of bed sheets rustling
(05:10):
in the dark. That was it, bed sheets rustling in
the dark, as if some disturbed sleeper was attempting to
get all too comfortable in the bottom bunk. I lay
there in disbelieve, thinking that the noise was either my
imagination or perhaps just my pet cat finding somewhere comfortable
(05:30):
to spend the night. It was then that I noticed
my door shut, as it had been as I'd fallen asleep.
Perhaps my mom had checked in on me and the
cat sneaked into my room. Yeah, that must have been it.
I turned to face the wall, closing my eyes in vain,
hoped that I could fall back asleep. As I moved,
(05:54):
the rustling noise from underneath me ceased. I thought that
I must have disturbed my cat, but quickly I realized
that the visitor in the bottom bunk was much less
mundane than my cat trying to sleep, and much more sinister,
As if alerted to and disgruntled by my presence, the
(06:14):
disturbed sleeper began to toss and turn violently, like a
child having a tantrum in their bed. I could hear
the sheets twist and turn with increasing ferocity. Fear then
gripped me, now like the subtle sense of unneies that
I'd experienced earlier, but now potent and terrifying. My heart
(06:35):
raised as my eyes panicked, scanning the almost impenetrable darkness, I.
Speaker 2 (06:40):
Let out a cry.
Speaker 1 (06:43):
As most young boys do, I instinctively shouted on my mother.
I could hear something stir on the other side.
Speaker 2 (06:50):
Of the house.
Speaker 1 (06:51):
As I began to breathe a sigh of relief that
my parents were coming to save me, the bunk beds
suddenly started to shake violently, as if gripped.
Speaker 2 (06:58):
By an earthquake. Against the wall.
Speaker 1 (07:01):
I could hear the sheets below me thrashing around, as
if tormented by malice.
Speaker 2 (07:07):
I did not want to jump down to safeties.
Speaker 1 (07:09):
I feared the thing in the bottom bunk would reach
out and grab me, pulling me into the darkness. So
I stayed there, white knuckles clenching my own blanket like
a shroud of protection. The weight seemed like an eternity.
The door finally and thankfully burst open, and I lay
bathed in light, while the bottom bunk, the resting place
of my unwanted visitor, lay empty and peaceful. I cried,
(07:33):
and my mother consoled me. Tears of fear, followed by relief,
streamed down my face. Yet through all of the horror
and relief, I did not tell her why I was
so upset. I cannot explain it. That it was though
whatever had been in that bunk would return if I
even so much spoke of it or uttered a single
(07:55):
syllable of its existence. Whether that was the truth, I
don't know, but as a child I felt as if that.
Speaker 2 (08:03):
Unseen menace remained close. Listening.
Speaker 1 (08:10):
My mother lay in the empty bunk, promising to stay
there until morning, and eventually my anxiety diminished. Tiredness pushed
me back towards sleep, but I remained restless, waking several times,
momentarily to the sound of rustling bed sheets. I remember
the next day wanting to go anywhere, be anywhere, but
(08:32):
in that narrow, suffocating room. It was a Saturday, and
I played outside quite happily with my friends. Although our
house was not large, we were lucky to have a long,
sloping garden in the back. We played there often, as
much of it was overgrown, and we could hide in
the bushes, climbing the huge sycamore tree which towered above
(08:53):
all else, and easily imagine ourselves in the throes of
a grand adventure in some untamed exiles land. As fun
as it was, occasionally my eye would turn to that
small window, ordinary slight and innocuous, but for me, that
thin boundary was looking glass into strange, cold pocket of dread.
(09:17):
Outside the lush green surroundings of our garden, filled with
the smiling faces of my friends, could not extinguish a
creeping feeling clawing its way up my spine, each hair
standing on end, the feeling of something in that room
watching me play, waiting for the night when I would
be alone, eagerly filled with hate. It may sound strange
(09:44):
to you, but by the time my parents ushered me
back into that room for the night.
Speaker 2 (09:50):
I said nothing.
Speaker 1 (09:53):
I didn't protest, I didn't even make an excuse as
to why I couldn't sleep there. I simply sullenly walked
into that room, climbed a few steps up to the
top bunk, and waited. As an adult, I would be
telling everyone about my experience, but even.
Speaker 2 (10:11):
At that age, I felt.
Speaker 1 (10:13):
Almost silly to be talking about something which I really
had no evidence for.
Speaker 2 (10:18):
I would be lying.
Speaker 1 (10:19):
However, if I said this was my primary reason, I
still felt like this thing would be enraged if I
so much spoke of it. It's funny how certain words
can remain hidden from your mind, no matter how blatant
or obvious they are. One word came to me that
second night, lying there in the darkness alone, frightened, aware
(10:42):
of a rotten change in the atmosphere, a thickening of
an air, as if something had displaced it. As I
heard the first casual twists of the bedsheets below, the
first anxious increase of my heart beat at the realization
that something was once again in the bottom bunk, That word,
a word which had been sent into exile, filtered up
(11:05):
through my consciousness, breaking free of all repression, gasping for air, screaming, etching,
and carving itself into my mind ghost As this came
to me, I noticed that my unwelcome visitor had ceased
to move. The bedsheets lay calm and dormant, but they
(11:28):
had been replaced by something far more hideous. A slow, rhythmic,
grasping breath heaved and escaped from the thing below. I
could imagine its chest rising and falling with each sordid,
wheezing and garbled breath. I shuddered and hoped, beyond all hope,
that it would leave without occurrence. The house lay as
(11:52):
it had the previous night, in a thick blanket of darkness.
Silence prevailed all but for the perverted breath of my
as yet unseen bunk mate.
Speaker 2 (12:05):
I lay there, terrified. I just wanted this thing to
go to leave me alone? What did it want?
Speaker 1 (12:15):
Then, something unmistakably chilling transpired.
Speaker 2 (12:19):
It moved.
Speaker 1 (12:20):
It moved in a way different from before when it
threw itself around the bottom bunk. It seemed unrestrained, without purpose,
almost animalistic. This movement, however, was driven by awareness, with purpose,
with a goal in mind for that thing lying there
in the darkness. That thing seemed intent on terrorizing a
(12:42):
young boy. Calmly and nonchalantly sat up. Its labored breathing
had become louder, as now only a mattress and a
few flimsy wooden slats separated my body from the unearthly
breath blow. I lay there with my eyes filled with tears.
A fear which mere words cannot relate to you or
anyone else, coursed through my veins. I would not have
(13:06):
believed this fear could have been heightened, but I was
so wrong. I imagine what this thing would look like,
sitting there, listening from below my mattress, hoping to catch
the slightest hent that I was awake. Imagination then turned
an unnerving reality. It began to touch the wooden slats
which my mattress sat on. It seemed to caress them,
(13:30):
carefully running what I imagined to be fingers and hands
across the surface of the wood. Then, with great force,
it prodded angrily between two slats into the mattress, even
through the padding. It felt as though someone had viciously stuck.
Speaker 2 (13:48):
Their fingers into my side.
Speaker 1 (13:51):
I let out an almighty cry, and the wheezing, shaking
and moving thing in the bunk below replied in kind
by violently vibrating the bunk as it did done the
night before. Small flakes of paint powdered onto my blanket
from the wall as the frame of the bed scraped
along it, backwards and forwards. Once again, I was bathed
(14:13):
in light, and there stood my mother, loving, caring as
she always was, with a comforting hug and calming words
which eventually subdued my hysteria. Of course, she asked what
was wrong, but I could not say. I dared not say.
Speaker 2 (14:34):
I simply said one word, over and over and over again, nightmare.
Speaker 1 (14:45):
This pattern of events continued for weeks, if not months.
Night after night I would awaken to the sound of
rustling sheets. Each time I would scream so as to
not provide this abomination with time to prod and feel me.
With each cry, the bed would shake violently, stopping with
the arrival of my mother, who'd spend the rest of
(15:07):
the night in the bottom bunk, seemingly unaware of the
sinister force torturing her son.
Speaker 2 (15:12):
Nightly.
Speaker 1 (15:13):
Along the way, I managed to feign illness a few
times and come up with other less than truthful reasons
for sleeping in my parents' bed. But more often than
not I would be alone for the first few hours
of each night in that place, the room where the
light from the outside did not sit right.
Speaker 2 (15:32):
Alone with that thing.
Speaker 1 (15:37):
With time, you can become desensitized to almost anything, no
matter how horrific. I had come to realize that, for
whatever reason, this thing could not harm me when my
mother was present. I am sure the same would have
been said for my father, but as loving as he was,
waking him.
Speaker 2 (15:55):
From sleep was almost impossible. A few months I had.
Speaker 1 (16:00):
Grown accustomed to my nightly visitor. Do not mistake this
for some unearthly friendship. I detested the thing. I still
feared it greatly, as I could almost sense its desire
and personality, if you could call it that, one filled
with a perverted and twisted hatred, yet longing for me.
Speaker 2 (16:21):
Of perhaps all things, my greatest fears were realized.
Speaker 1 (16:27):
In the winter, the days grew short, and the longer
nights merely provided this wretch with more opportunities. It was
a difficult time for my family. My grandmother, a wonderfully
kind and gentle woman, had deteriorated greatly since.
Speaker 2 (16:43):
The death of my grandfather.
Speaker 1 (16:45):
My mother was trying her best to keep her in
the community as long as possible. However, dementia is a
cruel and degenerative illness, robbing a person of their memories
one day at a time. Soon she recognized none of us,
and it became clear that she would need to be
moved from her house to a nursing home. Before she
(17:05):
could be moved, my grandmother had a particularly difficult few nights,
and my mother decided that she would stay with her.
As much as I loved my grandmother and felt nothing
but anguish at her illness, to this day, I still
feel guilty that my first thoughts were not of her,
but of what my nightly visitor may do should have
(17:26):
become aware of my mother's absence, her presence being the
only thing that was protecting me from the full horror
of its reach.
Speaker 2 (17:37):
I rushed home from school.
Speaker 1 (17:39):
That day and immediately wrenched at the bed sheets and
mattress from the lower bunk, removing all the slats and
placing an old desk, a chest of drawers, and some chairs,
which we kept in a cupboard where the bottom bunk
used to be.
Speaker 2 (17:53):
I told my father I.
Speaker 1 (17:54):
Was making an office, which he found adorable, but I
would be damned.
Speaker 2 (17:59):
If I'd give that thing place to sleep for one
more night.
Speaker 1 (18:04):
As darkness approached, I lay there, knowing that my mother
was not in the house. I didn't know what to do.
My only impulse was to sneak into her jewelry box
and take a small family crucifix, which I had seen
there before. While my family were not very religious at
that age, I still believed in God and hope that
(18:25):
somehow this would protect me. Although fearful and anxious while
gripping the crucifix under my pillow tightly in one hand,
sleep eventually came, and as I drifted off to dream
I hoped that I would awaken in the morning without incident. Unfortunately,
that night was the most.
Speaker 2 (18:45):
Terrifying of all.
Speaker 1 (18:49):
I wow Gradually the room was once again dark. As
my eyes had adjusted, I could gradually make out the
window and the door were, and the walls, some toys
on the shelf, And.
Speaker 2 (19:07):
Even to this day I shuddered to think of it, for.
Speaker 1 (19:10):
There was no noise, no rustling of sheets, no movement
at all. The room felt lifeless, lifeless yet not empty.
The nightly visitor, that unwelcome, wheezing, hate filled thing which
(19:32):
had terrorized me night after night, was not in the
bottom bunk. It was in my bed. I opened my
mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Utter terror had
shaken the very sound from my voice. I lay motionless.
If I could not scream, I did not want to
let it know I was awake. I had not yet
(19:55):
seen it. I could only feel it. It was obscured
under my blanket. I could see its outline. I could
feel its presence, but I dare not look the weight
of it pressed down on top of me, a sensation
I will never forget.
Speaker 2 (20:11):
When I say that hours passed, I do not exaggerate.
Speaker 1 (20:17):
Laying there, motionless in the darkness, I was every bit
a scared and frightened young boy. If it had been
during the summer months, it would have been light by then,
But the grasp of winter is long and unrelenting, and
I knew it would be hours before the sunrise, a
sunrise which I yearned for. I was a timid child
(20:38):
by nature. But I reached a breaking point, a moment
where I could wait no more, where I could survive
under this intimate, deviant abomination no longer. Fear can sometimes
wear you out, make you threadbare, a shell of nerves,
leaving only the slightest trace.
Speaker 2 (20:55):
Of you behind.
Speaker 1 (20:56):
I had to get out of that bed. Then I
remember the crucifix. My hand still lay underneath the pillow,
but it was empty.
Speaker 2 (21:06):
I slowly moved.
Speaker 1 (21:07):
My wrist around to find it, minimizing as best as
I could the sound and vibrations that it caused. But
it couldn't be found. I had either knocked it off
the top bunk, or it had I just couldn't bear
to think of it been taken from my hand.
Speaker 2 (21:27):
Without the crucifix, I lost any sense of hope.
Speaker 1 (21:30):
Even at such a young age, you can be acutely
aware of what death is and intensely frightened of it.
I knew I was going to die in that bed
if I lay there dormant, passive, doing nothing. I had
to leave that room behind. But how should I leap
(21:51):
from the bed and hope that I make it to
the door.
Speaker 2 (21:54):
What if it's faster than me?
Speaker 1 (21:56):
Or should I slowly slip out of that top bunk,
hoping not to disturb my uncanny bedfellow. Realizing that it
did not stir when I moved trying to find the crucifix,
I began to have the strangest of thoughts.
Speaker 2 (22:15):
What if I was asleep? It hadn't so much of
breathe since I'd woken up.
Speaker 1 (22:23):
Perhaps it was resting, believing that it had finally got me,
that I was finally in its grasp.
Speaker 2 (22:32):
Or perhaps it was toying with me.
Speaker 1 (22:35):
After all, it had been doing just that for countless nights,
and now with me under it, pinned against my mattress,
with no mother to protect me. Maybe it was holding off,
savoring its victory until the last possible moment, like a
wild animal savoring its prey. I tried to breathe as
shallowly as possible, and mustering every ounce of courage that
(22:59):
I could. I reached over slowly with my right hand
and began to peel the blanket off of me. What
I found under those covers almost stopped my heart. I
did not see it, but as my hand moved the blanket,
it brushed against something, something smooth and cold, something which
(23:23):
felt unmistakably like a gaunt hand. I held my breath
in tear as I was sure it must now know
that I was awake.
Speaker 2 (23:37):
Nothing.
Speaker 1 (23:39):
It didn't stir, It felt dead. After a few moments,
I placed my hand carefully further down the blanket and
felt a thin, poorly formed forearm. My confidence, an almost
twisted sense of curiosity, grew as I moved further to
(23:59):
a disproportionately larger bicep muscle. The arm was outstretched, lying
across my chest, with the hand resting on my left shoulder,
as if it grabbed me in my sleep. I realized
that I would have to move this cadaverous appendage if
I even so much hoped to escape its grasp. For
(24:22):
some reason, the feeling of torn, ragged clothing on the
shoulder of this nighttime invader stopped me in my tracks.
Fear once again swelled in my stomach and in my chest.
As I recoiled my hand in disgust at the touch
of straggled, oily hair. I could not bring myself to
touch its face, although I wondered to this very day
(24:44):
what it would have felt like. Dear God, it moved,
It moved. It was subtle, but its gripped under my
shoulder and across my body strengthened. No tears came, but God,
how I wanted to cry. As its hand and arm
slowly coiled around me. My right leg brushed along the
(25:05):
cool wall which the.
Speaker 2 (25:06):
Bed lay against.
Speaker 1 (25:08):
Of all that happened to me in that room, this
was the strangest. I realized that this clutching, rancid thing
which drew great delight from violating a young boy's bed,
was not entirely on top of me. It was sticking
out from the wall, like a spider striking from its layer.
(25:28):
Suddenly its grip moved from a slow tightening to a
sudden squeeze. It pulled and clawed on my clothes, as
if frightened that the opportunity would soon pass. I fought
against it, but its emaciated arm was too strong for me.
Its head rose up, writhing and contorting under the blanket.
I now realized where it was taking me into the wall.
(25:52):
I fought for dear life. I cried, and suddenly my
voice returned to me, yelling, screaming, but no one came.
Then I realized why it was so eager to suddenly strike,
why this thing had to have me. Now through my window,
that window, which seemed to represent so much malice from
(26:12):
the outside, streaked hope the first rays of sunshine. I
struggled further, knowing that if I could just hold on,
it would soon be gone. As I fought for my life,
the unearthly parasite shifted, slowly, pulling itself up my chest,
its head now poking out from under the blanket, wheezing, coughing, rasping.
(26:39):
I did not remember its features. I simply remember its
breath against my face, foul and cold as ice. As
the sun broke over the horizon, that dark place, that
suffocating room of contempt, was washed bathed in sunlight. I
(27:01):
passed out as its scrawny fingers encircled my neck, squeezing
the very life for me. I awoke to my father,
offering to make me some breakfast.
Speaker 2 (27:19):
A wonderful sight.
Speaker 1 (27:20):
Indeed, I had survived the most horrible experience of my
life until then, and now I moved the bed away
from the wall, leaving behind the furniture that I had
believed that would stop them from taking a bed. Little
did I think that it would try to take mine
and me. Weeks past without incident, Yet on one cold,
(27:46):
frostbit night, I awoke to the sound of the furniture
where the bunk beds used to be vibrating violently. In
a moment it passed, I lay there, sure that I
could hear a distant wheezing coming from deep within the wall,
(28:07):
finally fading into the distance. I've never told anyone this
story before. To this day, I still break out in
a cold sweat at the sound of bed sheets rustling
in the night, or a wheze brought on by a
common cold. And I certainly never sleep with my bed
against a wall. Call it superstition if you will. But
(28:31):
as I said, I cannot discount conventional explanations such as
sleep paralysis, hallucination, or that of an over active imagination.
But what I can say is this. The following year,
I was given a larger room on the other side
of the house, and my parents took that strangely suffocating,
(28:52):
elongated place as their bedroom. They said they didn't need
a large room, just one big enough for a bed
and a few things. They lasted ten days, we moved
on the eleventh, and there we have it. That was
(29:24):
part one of this story, which looks like it's going
to be a little serious. So I wanted to come
back with something that I knew I would have more material,
kind of tell you a little bit of a longer
story and hopefully, hopefully you're enjoying it so far, so
if you are, stay tuned for the next one, which
should be coming up shortly.
Speaker 2 (29:44):
Until then, I'm rob and Sweet Dreams. M.
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