May 26, 2026 · 4 hr 20 min · 17 segments
Today’s opening creepy short story is ''Mr. Sandman'', an original work by Andy 546789, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all…
The jungle wasn't used to visitors.
For thousands of years, its vibrant emerald vegetation had laid undefiled by the corrupting gaze of mankind.
Those few foolish enough to wander in, lured perhaps by the legends of a hidden treasure that awaited them at its heart, became ensnared in the thorny embrace of its arms, never to be heard from again.
There were those who worshiped the jungle and the thing that lived residing deep inside it, a tribe that lived just on its outskirts.
They prayed to it, asking for mercy and protection.
The jungle enjoyed their fear, thrived off it.
But today was different.
There was someone new traversing its ancient shadowed trees, and she was not afraid.
Eva Barker had been wandering this godforsaken jungle for three whole days when she found the entryway.
She would have found it sooner if that damn shaman hadn't been so vague with his directions.
It was so obscurely hidden beneath the thick, gnarled foliage that she would have been forgiven for missing it.
No, not forgiven.
She would not have that kind of luxury.
Forgiveness wasn't in Cecil's vocabulary, that bastard, and if she had sauntered out of the jungle empty-handed, he would have put a bullet in her brain, just like he did to Samantha.
She'd stopped herself from recalling the events of the past few days, just busied herself with the mission at hand, but she couldn't take it anymore.
All the memories came roaring to the front, and she began to violently strike at the large mottled tree next to her, banging her fist on the sturdy wood over and over again until her hands were covered in blood.
She shouted until her throat was sore and her nerves were fried.
"Damn it, Samantha.
Why?" she rasped.
She sank to the jungle floor, exhausted.
Look at me, she thought to herself.
I'm so pathetic.
If her father was still alive to see how far she'd fallen from the family tree, he would have disowned her on the spot.
Unlike the world-renowned anthropologist Steven Barker, who had come by his treasures legally, Eva had veered onto a path paved by deceit and thievery.
The jungle wasn't used to visitors.
For thousands of years, its vibrant emerald vegetation had laid undefiled by the corrupting gaze of mankind.
Those few foolish enough to wander in, lured perhaps by the legends of a hidden treasure that awaited them at its heart, became ensnared in the thorny embrace of its arms, never to be heard from again.
There were those who worshiped the jungle and the thing that lived residing deep inside it, a tribe that lived just on its outskirts.
They prayed to it, asking for mercy and protection.
The jungle enjoyed their fear, thrived off it.
But today was different.
There was someone new traversing its ancient shadowed trees, and she was not afraid.
Eva Barker had been wandering this godforsaken jungle for three whole days when she found the entryway.
She would have found it sooner if that damn shaman hadn't been so vague with his directions.
It was so obscurely hidden beneath the thick, gnarled foliage that she would have been forgiven for missing it.
No, not forgiven.
She would not have that kind of luxury.
Forgiveness wasn't in Cecil's vocabulary, that bastard, and if she had sauntered out of the jungle empty-handed, he would have put a bullet in her brain, just like he did to Samantha.
She'd stopped herself from recalling the events of the past few days, just busied herself with the mission at hand, but she couldn't take it anymore.
All the memories came roaring to the front, and she began to violently strike at the large mottled tree next to her, banging her fist on the sturdy wood over and over again until her hands were covered in blood.
She shouted until her throat was sore and her nerves were fried.
"Damn it, Samantha.
Why?" she rasped.
She sank to the jungle floor, exhausted.
Look at me, she thought to herself.
I'm so pathetic.
If her father was still alive to see how far she'd fallen from the family tree, he would have disowned her on the spot.
Unlike the world-renowned anthropologist Steven Barker, who had come by his treasures legally, Eva had veered onto a path paved by deceit and thievery.
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