CreepCast - Confessions of A Deep Sea Diver | CreepCast

Episode Date: April 26, 2026

This week we read a deep sea grab bag featuring the confessions of a deep sea diver and a wonderful story from Tales from the Creeps, A Silent Girl From A Wailing Sea. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Local news is in decline across Canada, and this is bad news for all of us. With less local news, noise, rumors, and misinformation fill the void, and it gets harder to separate truth from fiction. That's why CBC News is putting more journalists in more places across Canada, reporting on the ground from where you live, telling the stories that matter to all of us, because local news is big news. Choose news, not noise.

CBC News. Amazon presents Laura versus Fruit Flies. Swarming your fruit and terrorizing your kitchen, these little freaks multiply at a rate that would make a rabbit say, yo. Chill. But Laura shopped on Amazon and saved on cleaning spray, countertop wipes, and fly traps. Hey, fruit flies, your baby boom ends here. Save the Everyday with Amazon.

Today we are going to be doing a story called Confessions of a Deep Sea Diver tied in with a story from our story subreddit, Tales from the Creeps, which is a Silent Girl from a Whaling Sea. Now, did you say that the Confessions of a Deep Sea Diver? It's three parts or two parts? It's three parts, but each part's like five minutes. Because I remember this one got read a ton by like, you know, scary story YouTubers and stuff like that. I really. would just compile all the parts in like 15, 20 minutes, something like that. But this one's been requested a lot, and for good reason, I remember listening to the,

well, maybe when it was just two parts out and getting real scared by it, because I was always afraid of the ocean anyway. Yeah, I don't. And our author for Confessions of a Deep Sea Diver is Pizend, Pizend, I think is how I'm supposed to be pronounced. They've been active on Reddit in several years, but way back, they used to post a bunch to no sleep. And this story itself is from 11 years ago.

So we're reading some of that aged, that age, no sleep goodness. The, uh, so, and you did say that this was really widely covered on all the other channels, too. Yes. Yeah. It's always interesting when people say that or, you know, it's, it's interesting. It's like, this resurgence of stuff. We've seen it with like, oh, yeah, I remember I used to, or even you've said it like, I used to read it or I used to watch ex- YouTuber or, you know, this person did a story.

And now it's like people are kind of like vicariously reliving those like first experiences again. it's kind of a just a fun little like full circle moment i mean like for me i remember listening to it i remember getting scared and i remember one part about like bodies underwater um but other than that i don't remember so i'm excited to read it just to be like what was that what bothered me about it does it still hold up so i'm sure a bunch of people have the same vibe and also i mean just the title confessions of a deep seed diver it's an immediate attention grab so also i mean just got deep seed diver i get a panic attack every time i hear like people that do like deep seed welding fuck that like the ocean i hate the i think we've said this before but i hate the idea that like

something is underneath me looking at me and i and i can't see them whatever and i the deep sea diving thing i don't know also we've done so many stories that have had people going you know deep ocean exploration or uh like any kind of like a company that's doing deep sea drilling or something uh always fun it's always i don't know why i always have a good time with them so i'm hoping today it's the same yeah yeah i'm uh i remember it being good. So I have high hopes. Now again, historically, that hasn't gone the best for me, but we'll see. Sometimes rose

goggles. A little bit, a touch. And the other story we're reading today is a silent girl from a whaling sea by sufficient leave 144. And this was posted to, as Hunter said, the Tales from the Creep subreddit where we moved a lot of our short stories that you guys

were making. And it's been, I don't think we've, I could be wrong. I don't think we've covered one since we've moved everyone over to Tales from the Creep so that that can all be in one place. So I'm excited to get it in the first one of that. This one, a bunch of people in the replies are saying this is a very beautiful story.

I mean, the title of it certainly sounds beautiful. And sufficient leave has posted a lot to the subreddit. So with all of our authors, we'll have both of them linked in the description below. But sufficient leave is still writing pretty frequently intels from the creep. So if you like this one, you can go read more of their stuff right away.

Yeah. It's still coming out. So been definitely giving it time cultivating a fan, nice little fan base of people and writers that are just writing stuff and being able to give each other feedback or just enjoying the kind of community that they're building there. So Tilsson the Creeb is a lot of fun. Really excited to keep kind of like living that backlog and get just a nice healthy, healthy backlog of stuff that we can sift through. I think it would be cool. But yeah, I mean, otherwise than that, you know, I mean, you're ready to jump in. Hey,

you ready to dive in to jump in. Hey, hey, it's pretty good. I hate myself. I should also, yeah, I hate myself too. I should also clarify for the record. of this is a legal disclaimer, do not drink lava lamps, as I've been informed by literally thousands of people. That was, that was completely unsafe to drink. And you might die if you do it.

So don't do that. I do not sign off. That was the talk of the town. You, you almost overconfidently just stating that you, that gets fine to drink lava lamps. We should have, we should have put it more of a disclaimer of my God.

Yeah. Well, there was not even in the edit. No. Not in you. No. No one. No one gave any pushback to that.

To be fair. You say things so confidently and I feel so stupid a lot of the time where I'm like, I'm not going to fight this. Because I was like, you know, if I say anything, if I say anything, it's just going to come back and be like,

Hunter, no, you're stupid. It's totally harmless. Why was I wrong? Well, me, I sat here on my computer and typed in chemical in lava lamp question mark and just read the

preview of the first result. So it wasn't a lot of like in-depth reasons. urge with that one. All right. Well, at least we know that. Don't do that. And if you do do that, I did not consent to do that.

Isaiah definitely drank the lava lamp. He definitely was shitting his brains out and probably had to eat his stomach pumped or filled with charcoal this week. So there it is. At least now we know. At least now as a community we know. Also, everyone was talking about that.

And they were talking about Kenny Chesney's dad with the golf club. The top comment on that last video was like, I looked it up. And sure enough, he wasn't. And then on the creepcast, on the creepcast subreddit, it's like one of the top posts I think. And it's a mugshot of Kenny Chesney's dad. And it's like, oh my God. I really did not think that you're telling the truth.

Nope, there he is. I think he's a little guy. He's like a little tater top. He's like a little tater top. And I want to emphasize like this guy volunteered at church all the time. He was at school. He was a nice man. Oh, you know, at least this is the story I remember.

You said Kenny Chesdy and how can I not share? I mean, it's too good. So it's literal gold. Yeah. I mean, it's, you, you have a web of gold that you spun. So, uh, guys, thank you so much also to people who are listening on Spotify or Apple podcast. If you watch us on YouTube, consider maybe if you're on your drive, maybe use an audio platform

and help us there. Uh, give us a nice little rating. It does help. And also if you want some extra goodies, uh, consider signing up to our Patreon, patreon. Patreon.com slash creepcast, I believe. And you can sign up for some extra goodies there. We just did a, we just had an episode. where we basically talked about

before we even got into the story to be completely fair it was like maybe 25 minutes of just talking about horror films that we had just watched recently so that's normally how it goes over there it's just like,

like you do J-Hunter yeah no lot not as you know people complain that we wait too long to get in the story on this one you have no idea and you should get to the Patreon without further ado

let's jump in man let's get into it confessions of a deep sea diver I recently left my job as a deep sea diver I worked for a large company that offers diving services ranging from salvage, underwater demolition, ship repairs, and search and recovery. They're a reputable company and are considered safe and reliable, so much so that they are often contracted by the government.

Truth be told, I'll miss working for them. The people I worked with were truly the best of the best. But there are only so many unexplainable things you can witness in the deep before you decide to stay out of the ocean forever. Here are some examples of the secrets many divers take to their graves. On the way to a job, we were contracted to perform, our propeller became fouled. I suited up and prepared to make a quick dive to remove the fouling. I did a brief inspection and located thick line wrapped around the prop and shaft. I notified the supervisor, who then lowered a canvas bag with the tools I needed to cut it off.

I hung the bag from the shaft and began freeing the propeller. It didn't take long, and I returned to my chair. tool bag. I noticed a strange crunching sound when I dropped the tools in the bag. When I looked in the bag, it was full of large shells, many of which I had just crushed. After getting out of the water and stripping off my gear, I began examining them. The shells had what appeared to be hieroglyphics etched into them. I learned from one of the senior guys that this wasn't common, but it happened to several of them before. What? So, yeah, this is what I remember about the story. It's these like pocket little moments that happen that don't really have a lot of explanation.

Just to be clear, he's coming back up. There are hieroglyphic shells in his pack. He's like, well, I don't remember getting that. And then the people are, and then the people are like, yeah, that is kind of strange, but it's happened to us several times before.

I'd be like, uh, huh? What do you mean you found a hieroglyphic shells in the bottom of the ocean? Yeah, I mean, it's weird, but it's happened to a couple of us.

So it's not a big deal. This, yeah, this boat's not moving until I get some, answers. No shit, dude. It's just like a giant demon down here. It's not a big fucking deal. No worry, but it's just the troll

that puts shells in bags. Okay? It's perfectly normal around these parts. It's really upset. You get in a twist about it. Yeah. It gets really, really upset when you take them, so I would watch out. On one other occasion, we were recovering a military aircraft. When we arrived, naval ships were on scene

waiting for us to recover it for them. We were quickly briefed that they had lost communication with the pilot and wanted us to recover it so they could investigate. I was setting comms and logs, or communicate with divers, monitored depth and bottom time, when the divers reached the project. They reported that the plane was intact. We were all surprised.

The supervisor asked how extensive the damage was, and they explained it was completely intact, as in there was no visible damage at all. It was just resting on bottom. Even stranger, the aircraft canopy was still. in place. That means that the cockpit is still sealed. In other words, the pilot did not eject. There was no sign of the pilot. We recovered the plane and the military took custody of it. We never heard about it again. It's kind of interesting. You know what? Do you think this is, do you think that they're doing the story in this way? That's the end of that segment. But

are they doing the story like this because at the time, like the stairs in the woods and those kinds of stories were popular of like, oh, let me tell you like some weird events that happened. But, you know, like it feels similar, right? In that vein of... I mean, yeah, well, the original stairs in the wood story was... It may not been confessions, but it was a... I'm a search and rescue ranger. Right, right, right, right.

You know, so this is like, I'm a deep sea diver. Here's my confession. Yeah. So I think it just worked the format of like these little... Because personally, I like it a lot when you're given this kind of creepy stuff that there probably is a reason for, but you're not given the explanation. And you're just like, well, I did this. you know, plane exists down here.

Why did it just go down here without any damage? It fits into that campfire feeling of like, let me tell about this weird thing that happened. You know what I mean? Like without going too in depth of it, it's just kind of giving the meat of it. Yeah. I think it's fun.

I witnessed another strange occurrence from top side at the location of a plan demolition. It's necessary to explain that one way you can keep track of a diver is to watch their bubble stream. When a diver inhales, the helmet's demand regulator provides air from their umbilical. Then when they exhale, it's exhausted into the water and floats up to the surface. On top side, you can watch the bubbles to get a general sense of where the divers are.

Now, on this occasion, we were hundreds of miles from land and had placed two divers in the water. About an hour into the dive, we started noticing something strange was happening. There were three distinct bubble streams coming from where they were working. At first, we assumed that there was a current and it was affecting them. But soon we noticed a fourth set of bubbles coming from a distance. Stopped about 20 feet from the divers, near the other mysterious bubbles. We asked the divers, but neither could see anything out of the ordinary. Then, even from the surface, we heard a blood-curdling screech from the waters and silence.

The divers weren't too concerned. We hear strange things all the time. Sound travels well in the water, and you learn to assume it's a long distance away. But soon, it looked like the water in the distance was boiling, and it was getting closer. It wasn't boiling, though. It was countless new bubble streams

moving near to the location our divers were working. The supervisor ordered the divers to get onto the dive stage to be lifted back to the surface. The bubbles were frightening close now, and the divers being lifted out said they had begun seeing shadowed figures in the distance. They couldn't quite make out what they were, though. We elected to pull the divers out without completing their decompression stops and throw them into our hyperbaric chamber. I like that.

I like the idea of like the bubbles tracking and then a bunch of them show up all at once. That's pretty terrifying. Yeah, no, I would shit my pants. Also, you'd do it. Well, of course. The, uh, the, the hyperbaric chambers too scared the fuck out of me too. seeing people get i've even seen videos of people getting out of the water and they have to like quickly walk over to the decompression chamber and it just looks like a giant metal sarcophagus well fuck that again no you have to do it so you don't get the bins and like poison blood yeah i've had a video about the uh bifur dolphin incident where they got into one of those chamber or no they were they were they had to get it into a even more specialized one where you get into it underwater and then they bring the whole thing to the surface because you're way far down And they were at nine atmosphere, I think.

Nine atmospheres of pressure, which is like, you know, way, way several hundred times, regular pressures. And then someone didn't realize they were in there and just popped open the door. Yeah, unbelievable.

And the entire crew got sucked through like a four inch size hole in a millisecond. Oh, my God. I've heard of it. How, oh, my God. So, I mean, they were just, they just turned to red. It's just red mist, right? Yeah, it's just red mist.

for the people there. There's pictures of it afterwards, and it looks like something out of, like a Baroque painting or something. It's absurd. And then there were two people at the back of the chamber who weren't close enough to get pulled in, but the pressure change was so dramatic

that the fat in their blood's, what was the chemical reaction was the fat in their blood effectively popped and turned into like these big yellow pustules. So they look like these yellow globs. Oh my God. When was this? This was in the 80s, I want to say,

uh, 80s, it may have been 70s. How do you even approach that? Like if you're going down and you like see this like, like when you like find this. 83. Yeah.

When you find this, I mean, are you just like immediately like, okay, my mind is gone forever. You know what I mean? Like are you just that traumatized? I'm like imagining me being like,

hey guys. Oh. And then I'm just like it's black. My mind. My mind. My mind is like eviscerated from my head. Knock, knock it. And then, yeah, just a sound in my head.

I feel like that's what happened. I'm a different person now. Yeah, I come up and I'm speaking in like a rostafarian accent and stuff. I'm like just fundamentally changed. I feel like what happened? I'm like big, big blow up done now. Pop. Pop goes de whizal.

Is what I say. What I say like that. Pop goes the weasel. Pop. God. Goz de Weasal. It's like the reason I even said that, you know, have you seen the one where it's a, the woman said that she like, frowned it was like, something happened, but she like came out of like a coma or I, I'm paraphrase. I can't remember, but it's like a woman that woke up and then she like just started talking with an Asian accent.

Have you heard of that? Yes. Yeah. Yeah. Insane. Insane. I mean, she's got to be making it up. I don't know.

I'm sure there is something that there's some truth to it, but I have done no research. so I don't want to speculate on it, but I will say how this is fucking wild, dude. And I'm saying that maybe even after I saw a man get fucking eviscerated into red mist and see basically like a goddamn, a beehive of a person's fat that just like exploded. One of their entire face got like perfectly peeled off and pushed on the wall.

All of it. Any of it. I'm telling you, I might wake up and have an Asian accent. I might, I might just snap right there and have an Asian accent. I don't know. I said,

I seriously, I seriously do believe. I seriously. You want to put that on the record? No, no, no, no, no. I do think that the, you would,

you would fundamentally be a different person, though. I mean, one million percent. At least with, and I'll say this, at least with the shadowy, I don't know, goddamn monsters in the water,

at least with that, you have speculation. Oh, I mean, it's probably just a whale. You can at least trick your mind or at least lied to yourself, even though you'd be haunted

for the rest of your life. So, well. Yeah. But you, You saw a big, yeah, a popcorn man made from his own fat. No, the Rastafarian Asian accent for sure. Rosafarian Asian.

Yeah, it is a tough blend. Tough blend. The human tongue was never meant to do that. You get real experimental over there. I tell you. Yeah, the mind was never meant to have such a dialect and here we are. All right. I'm going to go back to the story.

During another dive near the Bahamas, I had a frightening experience. It was my first salvage job with him, so I got in with a highly experienced diver. At just over 200 feet deep, we were examining the sunken vessel for rigging points. As I approached the bow of the ship, I noticed he was investigating a damaged portion of the hull. He swam a few feet into the ship looking around. I asked him a few times if he wanted me to tend his umbilical or air supply hose from just outside the ship. It's highly advisable since it's dangerous to enter a sunken ship to which he stated no. He didn't want to enter the ship.

He insisted he was on the port side of the ship. Assuming he was disoriented, I reached in to grab him. Just before touching him, I realized there were no bubbles coming from the helmet. Whatever this was, it wasn't breathing. I backed up and reported that something else was down here. I expected mockery, but there was none. the next thing I heard was the diving supervisor. Both divers, square yourselves away and get ready to leave the bottom.

When back on surface, I asked the supervisor about it. He said he refused to put his divers in exceptionally dangerous situations. He then refused to clarify. We declined to complete the salvage. It's like this deep sea. I love the idea of ghost divers. Yeah. Like that creepy.

Ghost divers, a lot of fun. I also like this idea that was just a continuous. It's like there's like no deniability. They're all just like, no, seriously, there's some fucked up stuff down. here. Yeah. No one's trying to hide it. They're all like, bro, this ocean is scary. Yeah, well, everyone who has any amount of like, I don't know, managerial like power positions, they're just like, no, yeah, it's all real. No, the hell. Yeah. Yeah, the devil's real. We're dealing with them right now. We should go. The beginning of this, uh, because it says during another dive near the Bahamas,

it made me think about this time in fourth grade when this, uh, is insufferable kid in my class, tried paying his lunch, tried paying his lunch with a sand dollar that he got from the office on vacation. Did ever tell you about this? No. He had two sand dollars and he's like, these things are worth like 25 bucks. Whatever he tried paying for a chicken patty meal and like the fucking, the old woman

reading up the, like ringing up the food. Because you know, like you go through lying, you have to scan your card or wherever the fucking is. Yeah, yeah. He got like a double lunch. And he tried giving her a sand dollar. he said keep the change she's like what the fuck is this i mean she didn't say that but she was like what is this he's like it's a sand dollar and she's just like threw it back at him and it like broke

and he's like no he's like he's sobbing the rest of the day my sand dollars and everyone's like you realize that like these are just you can get these anywhere oh no i don't know that's that was funny maybe think of bahamas i'm not entirely sure how to explain this next dive. I was on bottom, laying on my back, staring up toward the surface. All I could see were varying shades of darkness. Suddenly, I came to my senses. I had no memory of how I got here. I realized I couldn't remember getting into the water, or even why I was here. I tried to will my body to stand up, but realized I couldn't move. I couldn't control my body. Over the calms, I could hear Topside instructing the other diver to find me. How long had I been

down here. How long had I been missing? He told Topside that they grabbed him. I tried to shout out, but I couldn't even do that. After a few frantic minutes of communication between the diver and Topside, I noticed a shadow growing clear. He was moving toward me. Topside, I found him. Reach down and grabbed my harness, drag me back to our dive stage. As he pulled me, I rolled over and got a brief glance at my surroundings. I've been laying in a pile of human bones. That's fun. like a siren's call almost keeps him down there i like that was he in the water yeah he was under water he was on like the bottom oh so he was just in a suit implication being people are like compelled or made to like lay down there and die right the other bones i see because he was in a dive suit he

lived longer oh i see one of the hold on someone just came to the door let me go get that real quick i'm sorry one second it's time to talk about something scary your health i know i don't go in the doctor as much as I should. If I'm feeling sick, I'll just lie in bed and sleep it away. But that's only because I don't want to have to deal with the appointments, insurance, and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. That's why I have Zoc Doc. Zococ is a free app and website where you can search and compare high quality in-network doctors. Choose the right one for your needs and click to instantly book an appointment. We're talking about in-network appointments with more than 100,000 health care providers across every specialty, from mental health to dental health, eye care

to skin care, and much more. And the nice thing about Zoc Doc is that you can filter for doctors that take your insurance, are nearby, and are highly rated. It's super easy to use, and you can find an appointment time that works for you with the right doctor for your needs. Plus, Zoc Doc appointments happen fast, typically within just 24 to 72 hours of booking. You can even score same-day appointments. You don't want to admit it, but you should probably see a doctor. So stop putting off those doctor's appointments and go to Zockdoc.com slash creepcast to find and instantly book a top rated doctor today.

That's ZOC, doC dot com slash creepcast. Zoc doc doc.com slash creepcast. Thank you, Zoc doc, for sponsoring the episode. Back to our spooky story. I want to take a moment to think to, day's sponsor, Factor. Factor makes healthy eating easy with fully prepared meals designed by dietitians and crafted by chefs. Because let's be honest, healthy eating is a whole lot easier when you've nailed the setup. The more time I can save the better. And that's why Factor is my

go-to-to-top of my eating habits. Factor powers your day sun-up to sundown, with nutritious breakfasts, on-the-go lunches, and premium dinners. And in just two minutes, you can heat, eat, and enjoy. With 100 rotating meal options every week, you're sure to find out of food. something you'll love. At this point, Factor can send me whatever they want, because I haven't had something from them I haven't liked. From flavors based in the Mediterranean to Asian-inspired dishes, Factor's got plenty of options to keep your cravings at bay. Plus, if you're trying to put that summer body together, Factor has the new Muscle Pro collection full of meals that support strength and recovery. And the best part about Factor is there's no prep work, there's no grocery lines,

and there's virtually no cleanup. And it tastes good on top of that. And if you're looking to get in on factor then now's the perfect time. That's because if you added the link in the description at factor meals.com slash creepcast 50 off and use code creepcast 50 off, you'll get 50% off and with new subscriptions free daily greens per box while supplies last until September 27th. That is right, half off and free greens till September. Again, that's code crepecast 50 off at factormeals.com slash creepcast 50 off to get in on this incredible offer today. Thank you to Factor for sponsoring the show. Their link will be in the description. We are now back to the episode. It's that guy that's been blown up right now. It's at the doors. It's the ring doorbell camera guy waiting outside Isaiah's house. Let me in. He's a huge

fan. He's a huge fan of Isaiah. This is my fucking neighborhood. Let me in. I want to pay, I want to make content with him. Pounding at the door. Actually, I'd be fucking horrified. If I found out that that video was actually outside of Isaiah's house, I don't even know what I would do. Also, I feel like Isaiah would have just killed the guy, if I'm being honest. I saw the get the video and the guy had like a shovel. I think the guy would have been dead. The amount of guns that he flashes in his videos, I'm like, that motherfucker ain't making it out of the house. Especially with a new baby. Hell no. Yeah, I saw another one too where it was like, uh, they took that footage. He took that footage and put it in the, uh, I'm not human game or no I'm human or something.

whatever the fuck that game was called they put that they put him in that and it works perfectly it's really funny actually be a good question for when i say it gets back would he have killed the guy who entered his home i probably would have i don't know it's i don't know i don't know it's i don't know like what was he doing he was like where is she where's what does that what does it mean where's who where like open up doors and shit i don't know okay oh sorry about that yeah um i had a question for you okay so i just i just i I was saying that if the person at the door was that guy that's blowing up right now

about the ring doorbell cam thing, he goes inside if that was the person that was at your door. And then I started laughing because I was like, it'd be funny if that video footage was just one of your disgruntled fans at your doorstep in the ring doorbell camera and he's screaming and he's ringing the bell and stuff. If he would have gone to your house, I was sitting here talking to the audience or basically to myself,

he would have been dead, right? You would have killed him. Oh, if someone comes in my house like that? Absolutely, yeah. Yeah. Question. Yeah. Just make it.

I've seen people shot for less around here. So I just saw the guy in the video. I don't know the context of what the guy was doing in the house, but I just know that the guy comes from the corner. Well, I thought he said something like, where is she? Or something like that referring to that the guy's daughter or something.

But then the guy has like a shovel. I'm like, I feel like I would have fucking had like a knife or something. So if someone ran into my house, I would kill them. If someone ran into the house yelling, if someone was in the house and yelled where is she I'd kill him someone comes into my house with a shovel I'll kill him so those are three different reasons that I would find it reasonable to shoot that

I'm trying to think if somebody let me throw you a scenario for somebody where it's like they wouldn't shoot if there was a guy in your area he was a criminal he is breaking the houses right so he still is a threat but his whole thing is that he goes and he gives the men of the house the husbands are men he's a serial uh he like he gives men raspberries on their their stomachs. Killing him. So he goes up, he'll go up, he'll lift your shirt up. I'm going to save the city and shoot him in the head.

You probably would have been, you would be known as a hero. Even though he's just, even though he's just giving you raspberries and your belly and he leaves, he doesn't do anything else? That's, yes. Yeah. Yeah. Anyone, anyone who comes into my house without express permission is already questionable. If they need to blow on my stomach, yes.

That, that is a salt as far as I'm concerned. Even if he, even if he did it to you and you started giggling because it felt weird. And you're like, he's like, he's like, I'll see you next time. You're describing a scenario where I'm like a cartoon character. Like I'm like bopping through the house like with my shirt rolled up like, I feel like when I think about you walking through your house, I feel like you always have a loaded gun on you. You're walking around your house.

I mean, not when I'm like holding my daughter, but there's normally one. I think there's plenty of times I've envisioned you holding your daughter, bobbing your daughter in your other hand. You have a gun other hand. You're like moving the curtains away with your gun. You're like looking outside. No one better coming here. We did think someone broke into the house the other night. So I...

You say someone broke into your house the other night? No, no, no. I thought they did. Because several reasons. But anyway, I went through the house to clear it. And then after I got then clearing it, I realized I was just holding her on my chest. And it's like, well, it's probably not a good place. You know what I would do? I would open my... Don't worry. She'll save me. I would tell my wife I would say, I would say hide in the closet and I'd crack open my door to my main room.

And I'd say, take the kid and run. Take the kid and leave. Just take her and don't come back. Exactly. Take her. We'll make another one. I did all I could, babe. Yeah, exactly.

God bless her. She's a hero. She's a hero. It's what she would have wanted. Bye, sweetie. She understood. To save me. Yeah. Thank you for saving daddy.

Yeah. All right. You go have a good life now. Exactly. Have fun. Who was at the door, though, if I can ask you? Who was at the door? It was the guy. There's a leak in the garage. So it was the guy coming to take a look at it, contractor. I know it's not as fun as what you wanted, but no, I think all kinds of weird things about you, man. At the time, I never know if I even trust you as a person. I have no idea. How do I know that you did? Let that guy into your house and you're like, you're chaining them up. You ever thinking about that?

You ever wonder about that about anybody? What are you talking about? What? I don't know. I'm just, I'm telling us. That's why I'm like, I'm thinking all kinds of strange things. This guy's like, hey, here to fix the leak. You're like, yeah, it's down in the basement.

And he goes down there and you just fucking dead bolt him in. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I get scared. We read these horror stories and my mind goes to all these dark places, Isaiah. I'm scared. I'm frightened.

And sometimes I'm frightened. So you're doing a bit right now. You're doing a bit right now. You're doing a bit right now or are you worried about me? What do you think I am? You're talking about me killing people and like holding a gun with the child and stuff like that. I'm just saying we read these stories. My mind goes to a dark place.

And then I'm questioning, I'm questioning you because also every time you come to my house, you always walk up this long driveway and you always wave. You always wave from the road. Yeah, you know why I walk up that, you know I walk up that driveway hunter? Because they refuse to pick you up there. Someone to pick me up from the airport.

I'm about to not pick you up again this next time. We keep talking about it. Are you? Yeah. All right. One of the strangest things I've ever witnessed happened on a body recovery mission. Even I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't been the one in the water. The military had found a site in which they believed the bodies of several missing World War II sailors would be found.

I entered the water with another diver with body bags to carry the remains. At bottom, we eventually found three skeletons. We placed them in the bags and returned to the stage. On our return trip to the surface, we saw the bags begin to move. At first, very slightly, then violently shaking and rolling. Bubbles escaped from two of the bags, and then they went still. The third bag continued struggling. We reached the surface and sat down on the deck, stripping our gear immediately.

We were afraid to touch the bags, but one of the tenders eventually unzipped the moving bag. An old, frail, very alive man rolled out coughing water. stood shocked, unable to comprehend what we were witnessing. Still not sure what I was doing, I ran to the other two bags and unzibed them. There were two more old men laying motionless in the bags. They appeared to have just drowned. We attempted CPR, but were unable to revive them. The man, who was somehow now alive, was backing away from us,

screaming of the horrors he had witnessed. He screamed about an eternity spent burning. He locked him in a room and contacted the, the military that we had found a survivor. Within the hour, a military chopper was hovering over us to pick up the two bodies and the survivor. We had placed the bodies back in their bags and handed them over. The man had been over to inspect them, and zipping the bags. As he opened the bags, an unbearable stench overtook us. Bodies appeared to be in decay, as if they'd been dead and soaking in the water for a week. Zipped it back up and had them lifted into the chopper.

Then we escorted him to the survivor. We had to hear the screaming from down the hall. We opened the door and saw blood splattered on the walls. He was alive and screaming, but he too appeared to have started to Cain. The man calmly walked him to the chopper and the two of them were lifted on board. Never heard about them again. However, I went back and examined the room. With his blood, he had drawn hieroglyphs on the walls.

I'm still not certain of what I viewed, but there were a few. few things that seemed to stand out. Waves, flames, and bodies. There was a tremendous amount of them on the walls, but shortly after I walked in, our supervisor began scrubbing the walls. We refused to let us examine it any further. I like that idea that once you go in the water, you become like an old skeleton, but then you're pulled out and it's suddenly like, you're alive again with that time having passed. That's neat. I've heard rumors about the keepers of the deep. I've wondered about them for quite some time. I believe they're the link between many of our stories. Their myth within our team seldom spoken of, but here's what I gathered over the years. We are not meant to roam the depths

of the ocean. When a diver loses his life in the deep, it doesn't say that way. They're cursed to forever roam the oceans. When they find the living in an envious rage, it will bring you back to the depths from which they came. That is the end of part one. Like a pirate shanty. Yes. Yeah. like a pirate shaney all right so that's that's it a part one Isaiah what do you how are you feeling after part one how you feel on I like it I mean I like the story

I like the little vignettes of these like moments that don't really get explanation I think the one about the World War II planes are creepiest you know people go in they're effectively trapped in hell but when you come out of the water you're freed to how you were yeah pretty cool how are you feeling you know uh

I'm looking to be a little more a little more wind and dined I guess say, you know, they're fun little vignettes, but it's, it's, I like, I like these things where it's, I just wish they were a little longer, I think. I'm, there's just not enough for me to, like, really grab onto it. A lot of fun ideas, but I'm hoping that there's some that maybe give us a little more. I wouldn't mind a little more. Okay.

Gotcha. A lot of these are reminding me stories of, like, my public swimming pool. Like, that's a weird thing is I just keep, keep thinking of, like, all these, like, different, stories that used to have my public swimming pool and how that could. This kind of thing happened at your public swimming pool. pool they suspected there were bodies of world war two sailors in there well it's like weird like things of like the urban legends of like things you have like there's was one time when uh this homeless guy like lived outside like usually a swimming pool a public swimming pool there's

usually tall fences all around it right it's not like it's just open you have to like go inside um and this guy like lived in the bushes outside of that and there was like one time where people made up this legend that he would like hop in the fence overnight and he would like take shit in the drains. So then people were always really scared and then people I think would like put candy and stuff and like, you know, like kind of like the candy shack thing put like baby roofs in the pool. Like it's homeless gosh shit. I'd say that.

So maybe think of that. I don't know. I was always afraid I was going to drown my public pool. Yeah, those those two are the same thing. I would argue, you know. What? The World War II sailors underwater and a homeless guy pooping in the drain. I'm just saying they're similar

I'm just making me think I'm just like it's just making me think that like it's just bring me back I guess to certain things I doesn't necessarily mean they're the same I just I don't know I just fucking makes you think a bit I don't know what I'm just to tell you

I don't know all right Harry Isaiah is being mean to me I didn't say anything he's talking about he's talking about how because we're reading these stories about, I don't know, fucking World War II pilots or something being trapped in a, in a fucking airplane or something, whatever, that thing.

Yeah, he's read the story. And then I told him, I got out of here how angry he is on the other side. And then I told him that I was like, oh, this makes you think of like legends from when I was like, like my public pool. And they're both water based, right? And now Isaiah's being mad because he's like,

well, that's definitely the same thing. Whatever. And I'm just trying to tell him bits and parts of my life. Where is this stand for the flag stolen valor coming from? Isaiah. Stand for the, my stand for the flag stolen valor. Yes.

My purpose isn't stolen valor. It's that a homeless man pooping in a drain is different than recovering bodies from an old ship. I'm not saying that they're that similar. I'm just saying that my, I'm just saying that it just makes me think of, because there's a lot of different stories for my public swing pool. and it's got these vignettes are just making me think like, oh yeah,

you know, even though they're not the same, it's not like there was a veteran, there's like an old guy that did, he like slipped and cracked his head in the bathroom. You ever go in it? There we go. It's true.

Yeah, that's the same thing. You had to recover of body from the day. No, no, no. It's like those sleigh, some of those old public pool things where it's like the floor is really, really wet. You go in there, it's a goddamn hazard, right? Was he showering naked?

Oh, 100%. I always hated to go on the bathroom because of that. I hate how normal that was. I don't know if it's that much of a thing anymore, but... I went to the rec center four times because my hot water was broken to shower. And every single time there was an old guy completely naked. And he had his, like, little speedo hung up over... Oh, I hate when they put their shorts up on the actual...

Yeah, you smell their stank-ass, like moldy speedos or trunks or whatever. All those guys, too, I'd take a shower at home. Why do you have to take a shower? here. You get out of the pool? You gotta get the pot. I don't care. Dry yourself off and wait 10 minutes before you get home. This one guy, I'm telling you, I think that he was like showboat in a bit.

Oh, is he? Oh, I think so. Like looking back on it, I'm like, yeah. I mean, like when you're a kid, it was he packing heat though? He wasn't packing heat. I'd tell you, he would bend over and he had like a hemorrhoid and it was disgusting. It looked like a, it looked like a lasagna stuffed inside like a clam. It was fucking disgusting.

People at the swim pool called a monkey brain. it was the worst. How patriotic is I'd say a feeling now? He wasn't, he wasn't harping on. Do we read the scary story? Yeah, we can. All right, he just wants to read this.

He just wants to read the story. Thank you for the coffee. You welcome. Bye his hand. Do we, can you at least meet me halfway on there that there should not, the people should not be bathing at the, at the public pools?

For one, I don't have to meet you anywhere, but two, yes. You have to meet me somewhere. should not be people should not i meet you on this podcast but people should not pay the public pools i agree with you if they can help it they didn't really call him monkey brain but i will say there was a guy seriously that did do that it was disgusting part two before i share anything further

there are a few things i'd like to clarify i received an astonishingly large amount of comments and personal messages since posting several people pointed out to me that there are probably very few people with experiences like these. And of those people, even fewer could say that they've recently left their job. Therefore, there are probably a lot of people out there who already know who I am, or that could figure it out easily. That being said, I still believe that everybody deserves to know. First, I'm going to answer some of the common questions I've received. Yes, I've experienced a lot of terrifying things in the ocean. But when you consider the amount of dives I've made, these experiences have truly been few and far between. Basic information about our dive

gear. While it does vary based on the job, we do have a standard we typically use. We are hard hat divers, meaning we wear helmets, not scuba. It's surface supplied air. We have an air system on surface, which runs through an umbilical down to the divers. The umbilical attaches to the helmet to the supply of the air. Woveen in with the umbilical are our essentials. Without getting too technical, there is a line to supply air, electricity for a light, communications, and essentially a depth gauge. Additionally, we wear a tank on our back as an emergency gas supply. It doesn't contain much, though, just enough to get to the surface in an emergency. We don't use re-breaters for the work we do. We do, however, occasionally use a full face mask instead of a helmet or scuba if it's more

practical, but it rarely is. The Keepers of the Deep. I've never found information about them online. people I've heard discussed them were the members of my team. I've been told other teams have had run-ins with them too, though, but even the guys of my team are hesitant to speak about them. I'll answer more questions as they arise, but I'll get back to why you're really here. While working on an oil rig, we were utilizing an ROV, imagine of small remote control submarine, to do inspections. We've been hired to inspect for structural damage or deficiencies after the RIG had complained of abnormal vibrations. During operation, the ROVs are tended from a line that offers power, strength member, and

transfers video and sonar images back to topside. As the ROV descended into the darkness below, we began to notice thin scratches along the structure. At first it was barely enough to rip the marine growth off of the metal, but as we got deeper, scratches turned to couches. As we descended even deeper, we began to notice that the scratches appeared to deliberate. We pulled the ROV up close to inspect. There, before us, were images. There were hieroglyphs carved into the metal, and they were fresh. The deeper we got, the older the carvings appeared. They were corroded, partially covered in growth. Whatever was making these carvings was working

its way up from the bottom. Then the ROV stopped responding. It began shaking back and forth. We lost power to it. We tried to pull it up by its tending line, but it seemed stuck. Then we felt it, tugging against the line, but it was coming from the ROV side. Something was pulling it deeper. Two more guys jumped onto the line and struggled to pull it back up. The line began creaking and parted. He pulled up the remainder of the line, but the ROV was gone forever. Supervisor was then left with the task figuring out how to report our findings to the oil company. I mean, I like the, you know, there's something in the deep and stuff like that. The ocean always freaks me out because it's such, it's like an impossibly huge space that you can move in every part of.

You know, like earth and air is tall, but unless something's flying, you can't, you know, utilize all the space that isn't on the ground. But in the ocean, you can and you can have these gigantic creatures that can appear. And you also don't have the same, at least humans don't have the same visual clarity we do above water, underwater. So, I mean, you could, there could be Goliaths down there that you never know of until it's too late. So I like the idea, like it could be these keepers of the deep down there. It could be a giant sea monster. Who knows? There's so much room for the mind to wander underwater.

Yeah. I mean, it's basically being in deep space, you know, just the idea that like, oh, yeah, you can see some fucking horrifying fish. And you're like, well, that's just, that's deep ocean fish, baby. It's very odd to me. That'll do it for you. And there's even just like, yeah, there's species down here that we have no idea about. Just such an unattain, like it just unmarked, unchecked part of the world. That's just crazy that it's just below us.

You know, with these, I think we've talked about it before that octopus, that was a picture was taken of off the side of an oil rig. Yeah. It's like the 30 meter long tentacles or whatever. Unbelievable. Yeah. With these Reddit posts and stuff, is there ways where people could put photos while they type or is it just only text? As far as I know, it's, I mean, you can put a photo at the top, I think, but it's just at the top. You can't put it down.

Oh, well, I was going to say the one thing I liked about, like, even Ted the Kaver was just like little, little pieces of media like that. It'd just be fun. I don't know how you would do. Well, if this was being written by somebody, because the guy who did Ted the Kever, I think he was just legitimately like a spalunker, you know, did spalunker and stuff. If a person wrote this story and they're like, I actually do work on like an oil. rig or like I work on some kind of like deep sea gear or something because I feel like a lot of people write from experience. So I have a feeling this guy probably does do some kind of work in this field. I would assume. Well, yeah. Well, looking at his Reddit history, he more than

he posted an R slash no sleep, he posted a lot in R slash diving. I just talked about legitimate diving. So it seems that he was a deep sea diver who just wrote this story. And some people that have those kinds of, uh, just like practical photos of like them actually doing that. I, it would go a long way. I just think it would be cool. But it would help submit some of the stuff because I'm trying to like picture a lot of this and like, yeah, I don't know. It would just be, I wish that had some of that like found, that found footage element to

it. Mm-hmm. Yeah. You just missed at the caver. I know you. I do. I really do. It's like, I, I legitimately think it's the best.

I think it's my favorite. I know we go, we go, we go back and forth and all kinds. It has to be my favorite. I love that one. It is good. It is good. I mean, my favorite's still mother horse size, but, but I understand. I want to take a moment to thank today's sponsor, Warby Parker.

Buying glasses does not have to be so complicated. Oftentimes, it's hard to tell if glasses are even going to fit your face. And it can be hard to tell if you're even being charged to fair price. But that's why Warby Parker is here to help. Nothing comes close to Warby Parker on quality, price, selection, and customer service. One quick trip to their website. and you can tell how easy they've made the glasses buying process. Their virtual try-on feature lets you try before you buy with your phone.

You can try on tons of frames on your face in real time, letting you feel good about the choice you make. Warby Parker has tons of options, and you can get lenses in prescription, non-prescription, progressive, and even as readers. So did your old unreliable glasses and grab a pair from Warby Parker. Their prescription glasses start at $95, allowing you to look stylish at an affordable price. And Warby Parker is covered by most major eye insurance plans.

Plus, Warby Parker has distributed over 20 million pairs of glasses to people in need through their Buy a Pair Give a Pair program. Warby Parker gives you quality and better-looking prescription eyewear at a fraction of the going price. And today, that deals even better, because right now you can buy one prescription pair and get 20% off any additional prescription pairs at Warbyparker.com slash creepcast. That's right. Buy one, get one 20% off when you go to W. W-A-R-B-Y-P-R-B-P-R-K-K-R-K-KAS to get in on this incredible offer today.

Thank you to Warby Parker for sponsoring the show. Their link will be in the description, and we are now back to the episode. One incident took place about a year ago. During a salvage job, we were in the process of installing the rigging gear. All facing the ship, with my back to the open ocean, I didn't notice anything approaching. Suddenly, something smashed into the tank on my back, hard. It was slammed into the ship, flattened against it by force. I turned around, there was nothing.

I would later learn that I had several bruised ribs from the impact. After reporting to the other diver and topside, we were told they were going to pull us. Got back onto the stage and started being lifted toward the surface. Kept our eyes peeled, scanning into the not too distant shadows. During a decompression stop, we began seeing a shadowy figure circling around us. We continued to monitor it as circled closer, closer. We began to see it more clearly. There was a massive shark circling us. Now, I had never been afraid of sharks, but there's something about being circled by a

massive shark in the middle of the ocean, dangling from a chain that can instill a new phobia on the bravest men. Keep in mind, we aren't in an enclosed cage, just a platform to stand on. It felt like being served on a platter. It eventually circled close enough to see its features, but I didn't recognize its species. It was bigger than a great white, with entirely different coloration. It was mostly black with a few gray features. It continued eyeing us as we sat there helpless, praying to be left alone. By the time we completed our decompression requirements, it was nearly close enough to touch.

The stage lifted us up and out of the water, relieved that the shark had not decided to find out how we taste. on surface we deduced that the shark had lunged at my back but it only managed to hit the emergency gas supply cylinder so you just didn't notice like a Goliath like a megaladon coming up behind him I was gonna say I'm like what the I like whenever these stories do put in like it's always funny there was just like yeah so it's

we saw kind of a crazy shark it was a bit kind of odd also we saw like we heard the screams of children below us one time It's like splicing in like regular real world stuff to kind of ground it, but then being able to go more fantastical. But yeah, this one, you're just like, no, this is like a giant cartoony shark. I don't know how he didn't miss it. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.

The shark is like the size of Megalodon. Like it's impossibly big. Ah, geez. You know, we're serving on a platter. Oh, God. Oh, cheese and crackers. Oh, God. I got an ice chai latte too.

Good stuff. What's all about. It's what we make the money for. It's true, man. Just so I can just afford Starbucks ice chylates. So they can write little, so they can write little millennial quirks on it. Yeah.

Well, they write on yours. Would they write on mine? Yeah. Let's see. God, what does this even mean? I just put want some coffee. Like W-O-N-T? W-O-N-T.

S-U-M-M- Coffee and coffee is just spelled and then it just you gotta say it you have to say it with like your bottom lip tucked to your upper lip want some coffee want some coffee yeah yeah yeah heck and chungus wholesome it's a heck and holes did chungus is that is that a millennial thing no well not really but like people call like that type of millennial wholesome chungus because it's like They're just, just the word chungis feels right to describe like the punchable nicety, like, quirky characteristic. Punchable nicety. That'd be a good horror film is like a millennial, some kind of millennial being trapped with like millennials doing something.

Like, almost like you're like trying to rent a room. Like this podcast. You rent a, is this, this is probably millennial coded, right? Do you think so? I don't know, probably. I don't know. Yeah. I feel like we got a split of like the Gen Z millennial types, you know.

Yeah. I guess I'm more of the millennial cringe kind of thing. Yeah, yeah. Yeah. Put a bullet in my head. Yeah. There it is. There it is.

We did another dive, this time in crystal clear waters. There's something nice about getting a job in waters where you can actually see your surroundings. The visibility was over 100 feet. We got to the bottom and began work. There were two missiles that had been injected for. from a military aircraft and had not detonated. We were briefed on their location and told they were not armed and would not detonate provided they were handled appropriately.

We located them much easier than we expected and began preparing to rig them up. Just as I laid my hands on the first missile, my dive buddy said, Oh shit. My stomach dropped. I don't care how many times you've worked with an ordinance. I sincerely believe you will always have that uncomfortable sensation in your gut and nervousness in the back of your mind. I looked up and realized he wasn't talking about the missile.

He saw a wall of sand rising in the distance. Something, hopefully just the current, was kicking up the sand from the bottom of the ocean. The wall of sand was growing and was about 30 feet tall. Even worse, it was approaching us. Soon it was upon us. It's hard to describe what bad visibility does in the water. It's not a matter of not having enough light. It's a matter of too much crap in water blocking the light.

Imagine fog, but imagine if you can that this fog is thicker than anything you've ever witnessed. I'm talking about fog so thick that you can have a flashlight pointed at your eyes from an inch away, but you are completely blind to it. That's what bad visibility is in the water. The moment the sand hit us, we were engulfed in pure darkness. I placed my hand against my faceplate, but couldn't even see it. After a few moments, we began hearing a metallic scraping sound. as swiftly as it arrived, sand was gone.

We had crystal clear waters again, except there was no sign of the missiles. I had been within arm's reach when the wall of sand hit us, but now even feeling around under the sand revealed no trace of them. The next incident occurred during a humanitarian job that we volunteered to perform. After a portion of bridge collapsed over 50-foot deep ocean waters, we volunteered to recover the vehicles and hopefully the bodies. By the time we arrived on scene, the collapse had taken place just over a week ago. We spent the first day surveying the area and developing a plan to lift the most we could in the weak time frame we had available.

By the start of day two, we were actively pulling vehicles off the bottom. It was a difficult job to say the least, but not because of the effort required. The state of disarray in the cars was heartbreaking. These weren't military pilots or sailors lost at sea. These were families on vacation Or people community to work It was hard to say what was harder The cars were we found an entire family

With the parents seat belts unbuckled And them in the back seat haven't been trying to unbuckle Their children Or the cars where the parents got out Leaving the children buckled in the back seat I tried not to imagine the panic That had been going on inside the cars As they flooded from broken windshields or windows

As people frantically tried to escape But I couldn't forgive those That left their families to drown Each day we moved on to a new section of cars And on the fourth day we started noticing several of the cars had their doors open and nobody inside We were happy to find easier work Especially under the assumption that the tragedy had been lessened by people escaping the wrecks It is until I began rigging a minivan for removal

The family inside hadn't been so lucky As I ran slings through the van and prepared it to be lifted I noticed the other diver inspecting the rigging gear. He began undoing one of my shackles. I asked what he was doing, and the response was not what I'd hoped for. I felt the familiar sick in my cut sensation. Slowly, I crept over to the diver and turned his body toward me. It resisted, but slowly turned its face toward me. Its faceplate was fogged up, and I fought my better judgment. I leaned in close. I wished to

of this day I hadn't. It was dark, but I could all too clearly make out the features. Rotting flesh. The person wearing this helmet had long since passed away. It lost my confidence, starting to scream. My calms were blazing. Divers

and topside were frantically trying to get my attention, but I was focused on one thing only. I was scrambling backward, away from him, but I had fouled my umbilical around the rigging gear and my state of panic. Thing had again returned its focus to the mini van. As I frantically cleared myself from the slings, I noticed the telltale lack of bubbles coming from

the helmet. It was opening the minivan door and reaching inside. As I swam away from the van, I watched to grab one of the passengers and dragged them into the darkness. This was when I began to realize I might not be cut out for working beneath the seas. I continued diving for longer than I knew I should. The entire time the thought lingering in the back of my mind, I need to get a safer career. You know, maybe, maybe that is the time to quit, you know? Yeah, maybe the time to quit was a while ago. Yeah, I think that that one was the funnest. You know why that one I feel like was my favorite one so far?

It made me almost think of those people that, I don't know if they're investigated, like divers that will go and like if they're trying to find a body in like a lake or something. Can you imagine that like kind of job of having to like not only console somebody that's like looking for answers, but sifting through the darkness of the waters, the murkiness of the waters and then just like slowly having that be like revealed in front of your family. My father-in-law does that. And he's talked about like how dark it is down there. You have to feel around and pretty much put hands on the body.

Oh, my God. Affirm it. Really? Good Lord. I mean, I mean, he's in fire department and it's like a small county in Tennessee. So it's,

he's diver certified. So it's like, hey, look who's search and rescue today. Ha-ha. Because it's probably the same that he was talking about where it's like a flashlight doesn't really, if you're kicking up stuff,

it's just going to blind you anyways. It doesn't do anything. Yeah. God. Yeah. That's my my my lord could not I yeah I don't think I could do it. Yeah. I mean,

I understand like there's guys who like want high adrenaline and stuff like that. And a lot of people, you know, beats a desk job, right? But there's other things that aren't desk jobs. And I think I'd rather do before I did that. So I commend a lot of people. The ocean just freaks me out. Being underwater freaks me.

I don't like the idea of being somewhere that I have to have equipment to live. Yeah. Yeah. No same. I mean, I commend a lot of people that. actually do that shit though like to have the mental fortitude to actually like stay calm and you know be be in the right mindset under those kinds of circumstances because i feel like i would just i mean like it's obviously different i'm not trained but i i i just feel like i'd be in a constant

state of panic yeah um i'm good i'm you know what life's excited enough part three then part three then let's go i apologize that it has taken so long for me to update you all i've been resting on on this story for the past week, scared to share it. I believe this will be my final update today. After my last post, I was contacted by my former diving supervisor. He told me the danger of sharing these stories. Then his tone changed. Things are getting worse down here. He had never before spoken freely about it with me, but he continued. We had an incident this last week and we lost him in. I was shocked. We all know the dangers. We've all seen the keepers of the deep. Nobody actually expects to die.

After a close call or two, you just expect to keep having close calls. He continued, "'I have respect for a phone. You need to just use your best judgment before sharing this and realize it isn't safe to share the story.'" He then continued. The team was contacted to perform a standard salvage job for the military. They had been incredibly vague about the work,

but indicated that a vessel had gone down. The dive team and their gear were loaded aboard a U.S. naval ship to be escorted to the project. This is abnormal, but not unheard of. But things became more and more strange as they traveled to the project. First, they were briefed by the commanding officer. He reviewed the confidentiality agreement regarding our work. Then the brief was turned over to a man who did not introduce himself. He explained that the Navy has been working on a prototype submarine.

Its capabilities and new technologies would not be relevant to us. All we needed to know was that it was tremendous. size would dwarf any sub we've ever witnessed. He then admitted the Navy did not need routine salvage work, but assistants were covering their prototype. He briefed the team that four days prior they had lost contact with the crew. Sonar images showed the submarine resting on bottom, apparently intact, but nobody was responding to communication attempts.

As the ship arrived on scene, they found that they were not alone. Nearly a dozen Navy ships were already awaiting their arrival. The divers were given the go-ahead to get in the water and begin work. Their first task was to inspect the submarine for damage and hazards. They needed to provide a bottom report for the engineers to develop a plan for raising it. They didn't want us to rigging it up however seemed fit to us. They needed the prototype in as good of a condition as possible. The divers entered the water and were soon in awe of the creation.

It was like nothing they'd ever seen. It was tremendous. From where they descended, they could not see the forward. or aft ends of the submarine, and the water was abnormally clear. In addition, the sub was created out of what appeared to be a reflective metal woven into scales. It began inspecting the sub for damage. After they reached the maximum allowable bottom time, they were brought back to the surface to swap out without event. They reported to the next set of divers they had explored from midship to the aft end and had found no apparent damage.

so I appeared to have gently set down in the sand. Okay, hold on. I don't think I've ever read this part before. Because this isn't familiar, but my bear trap is going to be that the ship was swallowed. Well, no, they said they made it to afternoon. I was going to say the shift was swallowed by some serpent. And the thing that looked like skells was like the outside of the thing. And now it's just resting there and the submarines inside of it.

But they said they made it to aft-in, so that wouldn't make sense. So never mind. The next set of divers entered to inspect from midship to the forward end. They began advancing while inspecting for damage. About 10 minutes into the dive, one diver began tapping on the hall. Immediately both divers reported that they could hear people inside the submarine banging against the hall and shouting. Couldn't understand what they were screaming, but the message was clear. They were terrified.

The supervisor reported that they had found evidence that the crew was still alive. The divers continued advancing. It was about five more minutes before their next report. There were carvings across the submarine's metallic-scaled surface. Hieroglyphs had been carved into the submarine and appeared to stretch from the very front of the submarine toward midship. Still, there were no signs of structural damage that would have caused the submarine to cease functioning.

The divers returned to surface and the commanding officer was given a full report on the day's findings. The team was assured that the submarine was capable of sustaining the crew. They were eager to retrieve it, but the crew was believed to be in relatively little danger. As day two began, divers descended with instructions to locate four specified locations. Engineers needed to verify they were still structurally sound for attaching rigging. Immediately, the divers reported that they could still hear the banging coming from within. They began locating the rigging points quickly and easily.

As they approached the forward end of the ship, just within the region which was covered in carvings, noticed a figure moving about. They both saw it. There was no denying it, but it soon disappeared from sight. The divers were unable to figure out where it had it gone. They agreed to quickly find the remaining two points. It was quick work, the two remaining points were located. All four were intact and readily available for use. As they ready to return to surface, they were informed that there were two more locations they were being asked to inspect. There were supposedly two hatches, port, and starboard that the engineers had insisted needed to be checked. Supervisor was weary.

The engineers up here got uneasy when they heard your reports of something moving around the ship. They stepped inside when they returned and insisted that you find the two hatches. I'm not sure what's going on. They're being very ambiguous. Please be cautious. The divers returned to the area in question and began closely reexamining the area. As they worked, they soon saw a figure emerging from the submarine. was dragging a body out of the hatch. They froze and watched as it pushed the hatch closed and began dragging it into the distance. They then approached the spot and realized the hatch was almost indistinguishable between the scales and carvings on the submarine, but it was there.

As they were reporting this, the hatch began to open again. Topside lost communication with the two divers. It was sheer panic on topside. The tenders were reporting strain on the diver's umbilicals. standby diver donned his helmet and prepared to get in the water. The umbilicals began violently shaking and pulling. The standby diver was clearly terrified, but nonetheless approached the side of the ship prepared to enter the water.

The strain on the umbilicals released and suddenly the lines went limp in the water. A few moments later, air bubbles were erupting to the surface. The supervisor grabbed the standby diver and told him, get the divers and get out of there. He entered the water and began tracing out their umbilicals. His goal was to follow the umbilicals to the divers in distress. As he followed the umbilicals, he saw the air violently erupting from below and continued deeper. He reached the source. The umbilicals had been cut free of the divers and were pumping air into the water.

Knowing the divers had no air supply, he urgently searched the area for the two divers. After five minutes, he had found no sign and was ordered to inspect the hatch. He frantically made his way to the hatch, hoping beyond hope, to find the divers alive. As he approached, he found the hatch open and saw the two bodies laying on the floor. He entered the space to retrieve them. As he did, he noticed several figures in the darkness of the room. He grabbed the nearest body and began pulling it as the figures rushed toward him. They were instantly upon him, tearing at him and his gear.

In fear, he released the body and attempted to flee of the space. And the struggle, he freed himself and rocketed to the surface. He was pulled up and over the side of the ship, unconscious. His bloodied body lay on the deck, likely suffering from an arterial gas embolism from his rapid ascent. Team rushed him into the hyperbaric chamber to treat him. The supervisor informed the commanding officer that all diving was being terminated. He had lost two men and one was in critical condition. There were inexplicable things happening on the submarine and he would not sacrifice more men. The treatment continued through the night and the diver regained

consciousness. He told the supervisor he was done. He would not re-entered the water again, ever. He was assured nobody would be returning and that as soon as his treatment was complete, the entire team was returning to land. Next morning, the team was summoned for what was believed to be a debrief. They entered the room to speak with the commanding officer and his team of engineers. The CEO asked them to take a seat and informed them that they would not move forward with the salvage of the prototype.

However, what was down there couldn't remain. was inside of the submarine had to be positively destroyed. The team was to reenter the water and plant charges and locations specified by the engineering team. Supervisor was furious. He demanded that the team be taken back to the mainland and released from the ship. Armed sentries entered the room and restrained him. CO again repeated his orders and clarified that the team would not be allowed to leave until the job was complete. Diveside was reassembled under the watch of several armed sailors. The supervisor continued to protest the job. After, over an hour of conflict, two divers agreed, under a duress to get in the water to plant the charges.

The two divers entered the water. Fearfully, they moved to the specified locations and began placing the charges. They began hearing the banging and shouting coming from within the sub. The divers, understanding these men would be killed, began sobbing. The CEO came onto the comms and again explained they would not be allowed to leave until the job was complete. After gaining their composure, the two regretfully continued. Two completed their task and returned to the surface. In their shame, they refused to speak to anyone and left dive side. The ships began departing from the location, and the team was again summoned.

The commanding officers thanked them for their service to their great nation and informed them they would be handsomely rewarded for the regrettable tragedy they had encountered. He then went over the confidentiality of the job and everything they had witnessed. His final words to them were. previous events have been leaked to the public. Please realize there will be a real consequences for any leaked information about what happened here today. My supervisor ended the conversation stating that the entire team had agreed they were going to leave the diving company. Their fear of the deep sea and remorse for the job were too great.

Told me. There are some places a man simply isn't meant to explore. And that's the end of the confessions of a deep sea diver. I really think that the like just getting more time with it just felt a lot of fun. I mean, do you agree? Like, I mean, the other stories were, they're like captivating little bite size ideas, but there's, I think the lack of, um, not even necessarily like character development or anything, but just the being able to be around the characters and have like more of a threat build or feel like there's more stakes or, you know, um, characters that are

actually in trouble or something. It just, it lint itself really well, just having a little bit longer of a format. I think a lot of these ideas would make for a really killer, like, longer ideas, you know? Yeah. I think you can do a lot with it. I think the story was at its strongest when it was just kind of, like to me, the best segment was the one about the down bridge because it's real tragedy about like people trapped in cars.

Yeah, that one. When a bridge goes down. But, and then it mixes in the supernatural of like these ghost divers show up to drag bodies. Like it's more bodies to add to the pile. And it drags them off into the darkness. I think that was the most effective. This third one, I mean, it was the same thing, but with the submarine, which is a

fine idea, but the elements of of the military, like, for what it's absurd, the military would use non-military members for this secret dive, but also to be like, oh, they're holding us at gunpoint until we blow up the submarine. It's just kind of like, whatever. But I did like,

I think the story was at its peak when it mixes the real horror of being underwater with the idea of these like ghost divers at the end of this part two was the strongest to me. The bridge one is definitely is the best. I think like even just a story of like, when brought up the idea of like or just the thought of the people who like go to the lakes and have to like find bodies or something like that would be a really cool um that'd be a cool story too i i i agree though like the human the human element and like the emotional um sting of that story i think made it the most captivating and it just made it the most interesting and heartbreaking it was the most effective for sure yeah yeah by far i agree you know for also a story that's fucking almost 12 years old

It's cool to go back and look at like once again, kind of the trend of what was popular back then of these little bite-sized segments. And, you know, just like, and then this thing happened. And then one time this happened is a. And then, and then that happened.

And then. But it's, I don't know, it's just such a clear indication of when it was written. And I think that there's always, that always tugs on my heartstrings to a bit of just like, that was just what was the meta back then or whatever, you know.

Yeah. Yeah. But, well, we can. Yeah, but I liked it. It was fun. We can go over to Tales from the Creeps now and read a silent girl from a wailing sea. Yep. Yes, we can.

All right. So once again, this one is post, which again, pizened. We're going to have him linked in the description. If you enjoyed, confessions of a deep sea diver, be sure to check them out. It's got other stories on No Sleep that I'm sure you'll enjoy. So for this story, a silent girl from a whaling sea. It's again posted two tells from the creep. So fan of the show, sufficient leave, 144 is also posted several memes to

slash creepcast, which is funny. Most of making fun of us and the stories we tell. So fittingly, and now we have the story for them, a silent girl from a whaling sea. Sounds cool, Hunter. Are you ready to get into it? Oh, I'm ready. Let us begin.

They called them the blue boys, because by the time the sea spits them back out, the cold has dyed their skin, tracing their veins indigo, turning firm, strong lads into stiff statues, bloated and salt. We've buried three this month, three half empty coffins.

as the water doesn't return all it takes. Three more doors to knock on, three more families to destroy, with all but a whispered few words and a salvaged trinket from drifting pieces of a violated vessel. Jesus. We were a modest town once,

defined by our close-knit camaraderie, our livelihoods endowed by the brimming life of the mure. But now it only strangles us with loudish, nautical hands, drowning its patrons at a trench of loss and fear, and it only sinks us more

with each passing funeral. Okay, immediately strong start. Very strong wording. I love that three half empty coffins is the water doesn't return all it takes. That's good. Very, very poetic. Yeah. You know what?

People make fun of me. They're like all it takes for Isaiah to buy in is like alliteration and, you know, symbolism and stuff like that. But you know what? I got my money and I'm buying it. It tastes good. You're the one reading it out loud. So it's a nice taste in your mouth.

So of course you're going to like it. The chef has come to the table. He has let me sample the hors d'oeuvres, and I've ordered it from the menu now. So I'm buying it for me. Every clerk, every shopkeeper, every conversation has become blighted with worry and superstition.

The dogs are emptier than anyone has ever known. Many veteran tamers of the waves are reluctant to face the tide that has claimed so many. Gone are the days of children chasing gulls across the shore, faces smudged with brine and glee. Gone are the days of the children.

days of gathering feasts of music and bonfires and old tales shouted over cider and boiled crab. I lived here most of my life, a family hailing from distant shores, braced against the gales that can batter our cottages. The salted wind has carved lines into my young face, and the sun has nearly faded my eyes, watching the place I was born into tangle itself up like seaweed clinging to a hole. I might have been the first break. At someone not stolen the privilege, on a fog-coated afternoon, within the warm walls of our local watering hole.

I'll tell this whole damn room for not, lads. Brayford shouted from his pistain corner booth, wafted in an odorous bubble of beer with his weary crew. Them blue boys aren't they just bad luck? No, it's not the sea taking what she wants. It's something far fowler. And ye know well who's brung it about. His Rand quickly earned the attention of the crowded room,

and he noticed, reveling in the attention. That old keeper of light I The Owee the glassy star He'd been modern strange word To the last high tide The last season I'd seen him And first young and washed up

No a day later His eyes met the room of trunk curious listeners Do you blame the sea Nye Blame that old bastard on his axes I say in whatever foul beast He brought to me All right so I again

I bought it now I'm ordering a double portion. I immediately love the setup that there's these dead bodies. The seas killing people and now some old persons blame it on the lighthouse keeper. What a fun setup. Also, I feel like there was a part of you that was born to play the role of a like salty old sailor in a hard. A salty old dog. Yeah. Yeah, I feel like that just like just your whole personality and the way you do voices that just

fits you so well. Good. I'm glad. Also, what is a what is a mirror? I think that's the name of town. That's what they're calling the town, but I think that's the name for like a lagoon town. I may be wrong.

Mure. Mure is a Scots word for more or more land and Irish Scottish Gated term for C. So more. Yeah. Yeah. So maybe it's just like basically a little,

the town. Yeah. It was the bartender of all people who encouraged the revered fisherman, as I made myself even quainter on my lonely table, praying to be ignored. Perhaps someone should pay the old bloke a visit. He said, just loud enough to be heard. I saw glints begin to spark in their boozy eyes. A mob, not unlike the ones from my parents' homeland stories, was forming.

Four months of this torture, they longed for someone to blame, someone to punish. Rafe's eyes went wild as a feral grin spread over his mouth. the others were already rousing sloshing down their drinks and beginning to roar in agreement their sticky fists pounding tables I shrank further into the dark panic writh into my stomach

his eyes met mine still keeping your nose out of the wind lass is it Ray for Rafay I think Rafe sounds sounds more right I'm not sure you're asking the wrong guy yeah who cares I shook my head

rife was in no mood to let anyone and slipped this net. He lurched himself across the room, scratching his stool along the floorboards, as his crowd of rubble and ruckus took form. It was one of your kin, now? He pressed, voice low. You want to see this in, now? He cried, and the crowd surged at his words. Some faces scared with grief. Some faces scarred with grief. Others aflame with the thrill of violent justice. My breath became shallow as Rafe clamped, rough, leathery hand on my short. shoulder. There would be no denying him, not in front of such a crowd. So I nodded. Good girl. I was only a child when I first met the keeper, chasing my younger sister among the

wildflowers and tufts of seagrass at the foot of that looming bleach tower. The summer air was warm and thick, with the scent of gorse and honeysuckle. As her laughing came to an abrupt inn when my foot caught on a hidden root, sending me tumbling into a mess of green. The sting in my knee startled out a sharp cry, and my sister's panicked face hovered above me. Through teary eyes, I saw him approach from forbidden steps, tall, the stiffness to his stride and a kindness in his weathered look. Quite the wound, little lady, he knelt at my side, producing a clean handkerchief and a rusticent avoidment. His large, worn hands were gentle as he cleansed the scrape, and as he worked, humming a four-in-tune to himself. He soon coaxed a wobbly smile for my sister and me with peculiar

stories, tales of shipwrecks, rare sea birds, and midnight flowers from lost islands that only revealed themselves under the lighthouse's beams. He added his stories with warning. Little girls should know better than deployed by the lot house. Even then, I sensed something otherworldly in his manner, as if he belonged to another realm. But that day, beneath an endless blue sky, he was a quiet and straightforward hero who mended my wound and sent us home with a handful of sweets and a newfound reverend.

Everance. Future encounters were always fleeting over the years. Sometimes I'd see him drudging through the mist at daybreak, shaped devoured by an old oil-skinned coat, carrying pales from the shore. Other times, we'd share an odd at the market. His eyes never quite finding mine, constantly darting towards the sea as if it spoke his name. Once I watched him in men fishing nets at the rocks, his hands deft and silent, humming that same foreign melody only the goals seemed to answer. People spoke rarely to him, but children watched from behind fences, trading chronicles of his magic, or his curse. But I remember clear as the night his light went out. The beam, so constant, suddenly vanished, and our harbor became shrouded in black.

It was the same night the first body was found. Face blue, eyes wide, the bells were deafening. No one slept. By morning, the lighthouse door was bolted. the keeper nowhere to be found. Must have sheltered himself inside for reasons unknown, ignoring all begs and demands that met his doorstep. No more than a few nights later was when last I saw my stubborn sister.

When the sun had barely slipped beneath churning waves, I woke to the sounds of the bedroom door snick and shut. At first, I believed it was a dream. The familiar wind was rattling on the latch, but when I fell to cross the bed, her side was cold and indented. and the front door was swinging open. I failed to call her name as my bare feet met the sandy path towards the shore.

There, at the border of a restless surf, I saw her as she walked gently into the sea, her white night gown trailing behind her like a wisp of a cloud. She gave not one look back at my frantic waves and gestures, not a word. The water swallowed her, quick and silent, before I could even reach the pier. I found her days later. What was left? Her face bobbing along the water's surface amidst a foaming froth. She was one of the earliest.

A blue boy. Though she had never been a boy at all. Four months. Four months of silent grief manifesting finally to a lantern lit, strained march through the fog. The crowd moved as a single muttering mass, boots scuffing the damp earth, light swinging shadows across sour, tense faces. I wish to walk at the rear. just another soul swept up in a vengeful resolve looking only at gnarled fist instead of red-rimmed eyes

but Raff insisted that I walked with him at the front his voice slid in low grim burst knuckles wide around the handle of a meat cleaver in my place somewhere behind a boy began to quietly sobbed to themselves as to the lighthouse a pale specter at the edge of the world emerged Rave took an unwavering step towards the silent

dead monolithic tower. My stomach twisted at every tail and a single kindness clashed with the contagious anger and dread driving us forward. We would not be halted. Only the echoes of our siege would spill across the bay and distant, mournful cries of gulls overhead. Rave pounded his fist on the floor. Open up!

We know you're in there! His minions became wired, twitching with driftwood clubs, knives, and whatever other instruments they could use to inflict harm, a restless collective of 20 strong brave bodies. Is that what we were there to do? Heard him? I made myself scarce, ushering away from our leader to a withered bed of wildflowers. As rape began to attack the door, hacking into its thick wooden seams without most ferocity. It was fruitless, as everts becoming deranged and desperate, until a titan of a man stepped forth, armed with a hammer.

He gestured to the handle and hinges, weak points, and assisted Rafe with the long, tedious task of ripping down a door. Every strike, every crack of the wood, every morsel of progress made jolted the crowd like they were starved dogs taunted by fresh meat. The door eventually surrendered, read from its frame by three men, and was hurled down the cliffs to meet splintering demise. Rave, sweating, spun around to find me amidst the dying flowers. His eyes manic beneath the wet mess of his fringe and offered me a hand. Justice for your sister girl. I didn't believe I had a choice. I solely took his offer and we became the first to enter.

We stepped into a spacious circular chamber of slick, moistened walls and peeling green paint. Spiral staircase, iron treads crested with rust, wooden handrails worn smooth, staked upwards along the wall, and down, vanishing into a murky gloom. as a handful of us filtered in we rarely inspected the central living space it was sparse a small cot with a threadbare blanket set beneath a porthole window

a small cot with a threadbare blanket set beneath the porthole window streaked with barnacles an iron stove cold and black stood in a corner flanked by a chipped kettle a battered cluttered workbench set on another side

overflowing with seed charts and waterlogged tomes shelves held strange objects wooden carvings, a jar of cloudy water, and faded parchments of strange symbols. One stood out, a carving larger than the others. Maybe a foot high, staying in a dark, greenish black, was a hunched figure of thrashing tentacles, encroaching wings, and clawed feet half-buried and chiseled ripples. Its bulbous head was crowned with curling, segmented palpi.

Its eyes were deep-set, hollow shadows, rough gouges resembling scales, precisely marked along its torso and limbs. Several villagers drew back, almost by instinct, while others clustered closer, pulled by a curious lure. A young man, tears still welling in his eyes, became infatuated with the pungent piece of wood. He hummed attuned to himself as he bowed his head when I'd heard before from a far older, preclusive man. Oh, I like that note randomly, that this man's from like the same area as the light keeper. And then there's like a similarity between the two, like in this moment of desperation, it's more commonality than this thing they're witnessing.

That's a nice little subtle tone. I like that. Rave's eyes were fixed on the effigy. Beside him, faint murmurs bubbled out while behind us, Lanyards flickered once, twice, and the wind let out a keen, hounding sigh. Someone in the rear, you're where I'd found myself, shuffled with uncertainty, glancing at him,

It seemed the entrance itself had grown further away. Then the young man spoke in a pitiful, quivering whisper. Bless a sore priest. A suffocating silence fell upon the room. It happened too fast. Opened my eyes and spun to count the faces. Raph, the boy, and myself and... No one.

Footprints, damp and scattered, traced aimless tracks on the stone. The others were gone. Extinguished as quickly as they'd burned. blinked out in an instant. Raph bolted to the door, chest heaving, his bravado wavered. No, no! Where'd you go? His plea boomed out into the still, silent fog. The hush shiver that ran up my back felt colder than the sea itself.

Raph rounded to the boy now kneeling before the idol, praying in a dialect I cannot understand. What have you done, boy? He spat his voice shaking, as he smashed the statue from the shelf, breaking the boy free from whatever zealot trance he was in. replaced with a heavy weight of sudden, unexplainable loss, a mob no more. We were witnesses to an inexplicable phenomenon. So the boy is from the same land that the lightkeeper is, right?

And this effigy is something the two of them worship. So when the boy came up to it said, bless us, oh, priest, everyone else just disappeared. I don't know if he's from the same land, right? I just thought that he was, I thought that he's just connected with whatever effigieg. and yeah, like fucking, basically just eviscerated everyone around them, right? Yeah, like they just got blinked out of existence. Yeah. That's what it sounds like.

So the boy is from, I thought it was just like, oh, they're from the same land. But now I realize by priest, he met this effigy and now he's praying in front of it. So whatever effigy, the light keeper set up this boy also prays to. Yeah. Some, yeah, same kind of like religion, whatever it is. Yeah. The boy stammered to free words from his mouth is Rafe violently. hoisted him up by the neck and shoved him into a wall.

Are you bewitched, son? Cursed! Hexed! The boy's pleading eyes found me, a timid shape, scuttling her way to the exit. I don't... Metal clings erupted from the staircase.

Something was still here. Downstairs. Raff swapped targets and, like an animal, skittered his way to the first step of the descent. The boy becoming no more than a memory. Your name, lad! He asked transfixed on the darkness before his boots. Caleb?

Are you one of mine? No, sir. You're now. Lead us down, Caleb. So yeah, because the race ship captain. Right. And it's a shipping town. It's like, hey, you're now deputized as a sailor.

First duty is first mate. Go down that staircase. He stepped to the side, fire blazing in his eyes, gestured for the boy to take the plunge. As he did, he caught me almost loose from the slugus. And where the flying fuck do you think you're going last? I'm getting out of here, sir. No shit.

Did you not see everyone else get? Hey, so by the way, I don't know if he saw that, but everyone just got snapped out of existence. I would like to very much leave. Thank you. And thank you, but I have fun with killing that guy or whatever. I have fun with killing the guy who prays to the disappearing. Unless he's saying it in a way where he's just like, where do you, like, this is not say if you should stay near me, maybe?

No, no, no. because she was trying to go out the front door. Okay. I pressed myself so tightly against the wall, I nearly hoped to disappear into it. My breath caught somewhere between my chest and throat. Every muscle bolstered in anxious stiffness as the trembling boy took a shaky step into the breach.

I could do nothing but watch as an unforgiving darkness consumed his entire form. And then Rafe, once again, offered me his hand and I, a final time, slowly crossed the room and took it. It was a laboratory, a sprawling, timeless, cavernous layer, the walls cut with mineral stains of marine horror. Green and orange-tinted lanterns, fat with puffy moths.

Illuminated the ugly, metallic din of shunned, heinous science. Pickled messes festered in stained jars, eels nodded in impossible shapes, milky crabs with too many legs, clots of eggs glued to terrariums, tools and trinkets were plenty amidst dense notebooks. single giant chalkboard brutalized with equations and sketches squatted it in the corner of corrosion scribbled madness crept along and down its surface like a leak good god this is just so good god this is yeah yeah the descriptions are fantastic place is fantastic this is this is right up my alley so hard you know what these kind of descriptions too i mean like just the little hints of words like

rust and and uh like even just though this room it's almost like you can smell the mold that's in the air. You know what I mean? Like just that kind of like wet towel smell that fills this room. Yeah. Basically like compounded between dust and moisture. It's just yeah. It's it's it's really sick. Also too. Is it bet? I was just a guy also just like stuck in a lighthouse and he's just been doing like awful science is just awesome. Yeah. Well, or maybe for all we know there is because people have been disappearing. Maybe there is something in this town and he's keeping it at bay with these experiments or something like that. Possibly. Because the boy didn't seem to make everyone. one disappear. It seems like the boy started praying and then for some reason the three of them were the only ones who did not disappear. Oh, interesting. You're saying that this is like almost like he could be like a protective thing. Yeah. Yeah. Interesting. Because otherwise if the boy prayed for everyone to disappear and he's so scared, why then when the guy threw him up against

the wall, I'd be like I don't I don't you know like. Yeah. It's like something was coming for all of them at once and he casted protection on them when he prayed. Um, rather than, because if he wanted everyone to disappear, would have made Ray from the girl disappear too, right? Um, also, is it bad that while we were getting the description of the laboratory, the first thing I thought of was that room at the end of the SpongeBob movie, where, you know, the two of them are being, they're under the lamp.

Oh, yeah, I'm a goofy goober. Yeah. A seaside like, uh, crafts table room with just like a bunch of like different. Yeah. So like, well, well, that like very good description is going on. in my head, it was like there was a dried out sponge and pink starfish on the table. It has a certain age to it. Yeah, no. Whenever,

whatever you said also good. Whenever they rolled up to it, it had just such a Frankenstein vibe to it of like the people coming to the, uh, to the windmill with the torches. Yeah. So now, now it just has this kind of like almost gothic, uh, aesthetic to me in my, in my head. Yeah. Yeah. Ocean Frankenstein. It reminds me of the lighthouse like the.

Yeah. The people and like the set. and everything, yeah. In another corner, within a crystal clear cylinder of glass was a fair, beautiful young woman, alive and awake, her eyes longing towards the three of us, up to her waist and brown, bloody water. This is definitely a mermaid, and they definitely should not open that tank. Her mouth stretched to speak and from the gaping depths of her throat came only crackled and audible gurgles. Frustrated, she struck her glass prison, splashing out like a flailing fish, and clawed at her own neck, as if desperately trying to find her own voice.

But another voice crawled out of the dark instead, fractured and wet. They called it mercy once. To be loved by the tide. To be promised an ended sea. It's a lie. The keeper emerged from the shadows, waddling into the light, drenched and slimy with bloated, saturated mossy skin, ready to burst like a balloon. There were cracks in his face, where a fizzing salt water oozed out and dripped to the floor with a soggy splat. His eyes were glazed and tinted with a shade of coral pink,

and he unceremoniously stunk like a long dead, rotten trawl. There is neither peace nor pain, only in internal slumber rocked by drowned lullabies. He slugged his way to his prisoner, resting a hand on the glass. Every word he spoke took tremendous, gagging effort. Show me, didn't you? I hurt you. I heard him.

But there is no song left now. Burn the chorus of old bargains struck in the deep by those far older than I. With things far hungrier than to see herself. He turned to face us. He's prisoner grudging his very presence. They took you a little marching mob one by one. to the shore while you slept. Do you remember?

Go and look. Raph marched towards the ghastly keeper, his stench making him gag. Enough with your ramlins, old man. Where have you become? What dark work have you woven? His eyes met the imprisoned woman, tapped and fidgeted within her case.

And who the foxes disdain? The keeper's lips curled into something like a smile, water beach dripping from the gapes in his mouth. She is. A curse, son, from a far harbor, from farer shores. I have tried to fix her with the deep belongs to reclaim their song. As if on cue, said curse within her glass cage began to convulse and seize. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

The keeper began, retreating into the darkness from whence he came, as he miserably sifted through various tools across a table. A vigorous thunder rattled the towers, the woman's blue eyes flashed in impossibly bright pink. Immediately, a searing light, far more colorful than the coralline tint in the keeper's own eyes, flared in both Raphs and Caleb's stares. Their body stiffened and turned in unison. Your fish trembled, and a bloodlust frenzy unthralled them, warping their faces into hardened masks of unfiltered rage and purpose.

The woman behind the glass, her more than, uncanny features momentarily illuminated by the light from her eyes stared solely at me. Her power unmistakable, but somehow utterly useless on my mind. Yeah, it's a siren that convinces men to do things. A temptress. Raph was first, dropping his cleaver and charging the keeper with a roar that was barely human. Caleb followed, silent but wild, with his hands outstretched. The keeper's arms raised in a reflexive defense, but there was a moment of understanding in a his shocked eyes. Before the chaos, as he looked only, transfixed at his beautiful prisoner, the two men pounced on him, raining down blows with primal violence, echoing through the chamber

a symphony of splattering blood and brutality. The woman looked to the cleaver with a silent plea, then at me and the cleaver again. I'm not sure what compelled me. Her beauty, sympathy, the fear that Raph and Caleb's delirium would sue name at me, but my hand found the cleaver's grip, raised it and brought it crashing down on the curved glass. It cracked, shivering under the blow, and then burst outwards. Cold, briny, murky, bloody water rushed out, swirling me up as I tumbled to the floor. My limbs becoming twisted with a woman as she gasped and coughed up foam. Her voice still a hoarse, wordless gurgle.

She steadied herself, grateful for a moment. I saw only lost stars in her charming eyes as the last. light within them flickered. She kissed me, passionately, intimately, and every sense the nerve within me detonated as a torrent of water gushed from her mouth into mine. I pushed her off, choking and spluttering, much to her visible dismay, as Rafe whirled around to face us, angry and confused, covered in blood and grime, while Caleb was shaking, silently wept over the keeper's broken, motionless body. Monster He was upon us in seconds

The woman scampered up to her feet Stretching her limbs and squaring her shoulders As a wild mess of swinging fist assaulted her She deflected the first blow But rave strikes were reckless As he, for lack of a better description Started to beat the shit out of her In the fray, almost slipping in the water at our feet

I found myself bringing the cleaver down on his shoulder ejecting a geyser of blood Hell yeah A flailing, panicked elbow connected sharply with my temple. I could barely hear the woman strangled gasp, as my vision dazzled into spots, the world slipping away,

and then, muffling the shouts in an ear-ripping scream, my eyes dragged me into an empty, blank nothingness. I remember a sky, swollen with clouds, my hands raw from gripping the splintered rim of a skiff. Birds cry somewhere above, unseen, and every swell of the waves

feels like it will tip this fragile shell into the drink. My petticoat clings to me, soddened freezing. Salt stings my lips, and each breath devolves more into a rasp. The lantern at the prow reveals my distant brothers, left to drown with what remains of the vessel. This there a promised adventure. A lie. It only promises the grim patience of the sea, awaiting the young and naive to embark on their voice. is to abandon their civil industrial safeties.

I see a shape moving amidst the wreckage. I shout, my voice breaking in the wind, but there is no answer. The horizon is nothing. The shore behind us is erased. Lamps from a distant harbor are mere pinpricks. If they're even there at all. My arms begging to ache as I row and row until my muscles tear and blisters open. my pained cries and whimpers lost to the cold.

I am alone. I am going to die. The wind lashes at me, fierce and cunning, as my lifeboat grows still, helplessly veering into the waves. I curl into a ball as a monstrous, dark mass stirs beneath me. Too large to belong to any earthly whale, and I muster every prayer possible for my blue tongue. And then I hear it, as if something below answered my small surrender. A song, ancient, hungry. And my last memory of this mortal coil was not a fear, but of bliss as I looked to the side of my boat, the splashing of waves, to find the kind, smiling face of a woman with shrinking pink eyes, offering her hand.

This was not my life. This was not my mind, my memories, my dreams. I am, again, a witness to something phenomenal, to a life most monstrous and wonderful, where deep beneath the fathomless blue, where no sunlight dares wander. My skin, supple, scaled, and a glimmering teal, glides through black water. Around me is an endless choir, my sisters, raising a song that rattles the bones of lost sailors. Their boats wreck, their limbs slack, and their eyes drift as our music winds them into peace and pulls them gently through the frigid water and into our arms. Mercy and a balm to the ears of the one who slumbers in the most bottomless abyss.

His occupancy is a constant tumor on my mind, vast and incomprehensible. We weave our melodies not for ourselves or the lost souls at sea, but to lull him, to shield the waking world from his gaze and to soothe his endless, nightmarish hunger between his dreams. Sometimes I am rewarded, and I rise to collect new blood for his ranks. A gift and a tribute. Another sister. One-nine, a storm's nash at an island where the veil between land and sea is thin. I surface atop foaming rocks.

I sing as I have sung since the first flood. and my voice threshes through the hearts of men. I do not notice that one of them is a hunter, until the harpoon pierces my side and the net falls tied to steel around me. My gnashing teeth and glittery eyes fail to frighten him as he utters words in an old tongue, poison with grief, and hums the melody of my own kin, dragging me onto his ship, chained, exhausted, wounded, and dry.

My voice shrinks into a whisper as I am ferried away, away from sisters and songs and a deep lord across harsh foreign waters to a tower of stone glass on a thriving oblivious coast beneath the indifferent sweeps of light beams he imprisons me first in a tank then a cage then a cylinder of brackish water he studies my voice notes my every attempt to sing in a quest to unravel the music until my throat begins to fail But I do not forget, nor do I forgive the icy stare of the man who watches and waits as my memory of the depths bleeds into the harsh walls of his dungeon. He drips potions into my prison, wafting scents and hallucinogenic spasms into my eyes, loosening a long-buried anchor in the recesses of my mind, beyond my lord's throbbing presence. It is not a blessed recollection. It is a torturous regurgitation of morality. The drizzle is a drizzling. of London mornings, the clack of typewriters, smell of a waxed floor and fresh ledgers.

I sit tucked behind a brass screened window, counting coins. My days are only an orderly routine, not an eternal life amidst the blue. It is a cancer. The embrace of my mother, the sternness of my father, flicking through a newspaper, and the laughter of my youngest brother echoing down the halls of our home, a night comes. It blooms with candlelight dinners as I sat beside a man unknown to me, whose fingers brush my red hair from my face. We dream quietly of escape, of ships, of wide water, of building a life of fewer ordeals. I remember love in his eyes, the way he said my name, the way I once believed that my future had room for joy. In Ireland just for us, Sophie. My heart aches and breaks as I see myself sweeping down

cobbled streets and hear the city's noise so, so distant now. There's a grand ship, crew of my siblings, and a promise wrapped around the finger of my love. There's a hurried goodbye. The faces of my parents blur with pride and anxiety. The embraces of my friends are warm. For these stolen minutes, I am simply a girl, a daughter, a sister, a clerk, a lover, never dreaming that her voice might one day still the sorrow and a drowned God. And then I returned to the vat, a monster again, to watch my captor unravel. A timeless ritual churned on with my own thoughts. I see the slow hunch eat his shoulder, his fingers swell, his eyes dim with a pink glow he thought himself immune to.

Something far worse than my song had reached him. Within the comfort of his own dreams. His feet faltered, and he would stumble between scattered notes, sometimes pausing to stare at me with a begging, hollow gaze, as if I might forgive him, or appease the one that insulted his sleep. Other times, he would speak to things only he could see, muttering names I'd never known. On the worst days, he would press his head to my glass and weep with roting wounds, each breath tearing through brittle lungs. once. He tried to hum a half-remembered lullaby, but his voice broke.

Rotten, rotten. I suddenly awoke from the fractured dream of sea winches and a doomed old man jolting into a room, sought him with violence and gore. I pushed myself up from cold stones. My head's still throbbing from rave's elbow. My ears ringing with the memory of toxic water forced down my throat. Man, gosh, I really like that. How did you feel about that whole segment? It's great. I like that it comes from the perspective. of like a mermaid or a siren and then how the man captured her. I think it's cool. I think that's a cool way to show like the lore here.

Because all we get from just the girl, the last is as she's been called perspective is like the seakeepers, this old man who's like covered in brine and he has a mermaid locked up. But then from the mermaid pushing the water down her throat, because you know, mermaids possess women not. Or mermaids possess men, not women.

But it can share the emotions with her. She sees the mermaid's whole history. She was in love with the man and they were going to sail across the sea, but then the shipwreck. So then she dies on a dingy trying to paddle away, like just from exhaustion. And then the mermaids take her to join them. But I love that the mermaids aren't just like taking men underwater to eat them. They sing the song to appease a drowned God. And there's like an infinite number of them under the seas. Then a hunter captures her, but he's been compelled by something else. That's such cool lore to show this character through a flashback that the mermaid

gave her, basically giving her life story. That's fun. That's so cool. For a moment, as my vision cleared, the world wobbled as it half submerged. Then I saw them. Rave's body sprawled in a widening crimson pool, his eyes empty, fixed on the ceiling, his face frozen in the grimace of whatever horror was unleashed upon him. Caleb, too, was crumpled against the wall, neck twisted at an impossible angle. Sophie, I think that was her name, lay by the stairs. Her skin gleamed, gleamed with a blue-green sheen of a caught fish. Her legs had become a shimmering tail of quartz scales and fins, and her ribs, gills, ragged, heaving, slick with dew, open and closed along her sides, twitching desperately as she gulped for air. Her fingers, tipped with bladed, red claws,

clutched at the metal steps. Her face was still beautiful, but her eyes, pale and pink, were wide with panic. She reached for me, mouthing a wordless request. I dared not move, rooted by shock and pity, as her tail slapped the ground in an attempt to communicate or failed strive to move. And then sprouted in my skull, a deep rhythm, a pulsing worm, shoving my doubts aside until a single goal remained. Help her. Help your sister. Oh, I like that too. Because she lost her sister at the beginning to the lightkeeper, and that's what the mermaid prayed on to insert herself as her sister also potentially being taken by the light keeper at least she believes that's cool and also given that you know she's seen all this different i mean they have a kinship now almost seeing how this is all happening yeah also because like

mermaids you know drag sailors to their death and stuff like that but it was even framed to the girl as sympathetic like well it's not for me i'm just you know it's for the drowned god i have no say in the matter as she kills people as two more men lay dead in here because of her. But it's like, well, what am I to do about it? That's interesting. My timid hands found her body, moving with the mind of their own, and with every ounce of strength I could muster. I cradled her into my arms, into my chest, and lugged her out of from the grim, dark prison that had been her home for an eon. She grew colder and stiffer as we ascended those rusted steps, her battle for breath becoming a one-sided war of grit, till we emerged out of the lighthouse, free to a wilted garden and a town on the brink of oblivion.

The fog had subsided, replaced with a catastrophic, raging storm of cutting gales and cataclysmic thunder, as if the gods themselves were planning to rip our grisly residents from the earth and hurl it to the heavens. Every home shook, every latched window rattled. The whales of livestock cut through the madness as debris and produce and materials were flung up into the sky and down the street. A weak, clawed finger gently tap my chest as I braced against the elements. I looked down at the one I carried to see her pointing to the beach to the sea, with the epicenter of the storm originated, manifesting as an unrivaled, titanic tornado of torrential wind and dark water, crackling and sparking with a grotesque lighting of green and pink, with

the crisp of the horizon. As the lightning flashed amid those smouldering, smoking clouds, a monstrous silhouette became invisible within the hurricane. An impossibly large, hulking behemoth, older than the sea itself. Its features, all too familiar, here to reclaim what was rightfully his. Man, that's so cool. That's so cool. I love that. The weak chords of a song left Sophie's lips as we journeyed to the shore, while the pear side of my head throbbed and moaned in sync. Every man, woman, child I had ever seen through my years stood waiting amongst the sand and the rock. rocks and the pebbles and across the wooden boards of the harbor. The pier were stood still

throughout the street. Not a lick of motion to their bodies, not a glimmer of life in their blinking eyes as they stared. Three hundred lives at the least at the approaching nautical colossal wrapped in a coat of unstoppable nature. The surf bit at my knees as we reached the water. The cold stinging more than any wound as I gently lowered Sophie to be embraced by the waves. for a breath? Nothing. Then, with a violent jerk, her tail shivered and flexed. Scales flashing brilliantly in the lightning's glare,

and she reeled upright, drawing great, greedy gulps of air. Her lips spitting into a wide and triumphant smile. But, newly alive and electric, she did not race towards the monstrous silhouette dwelling at the storm's core. Instead, she lingered, floating beneath the surface, her luminous eyes locked with mine, believed and terrified. Something intelligible slipped from her mouth, carried upon a strong melody that snuck through the screaming wind.

Thank you. The storm itself hushed for a heartbeat, and the towering titans seemed to pause. Hungry tendrils just out of reach. As if even the sea recognized the power that returned to its bosom. She grinned, holding my gaze, and as if it was the most critical decision in her life, She slowly offered me a hand, an invitation, a promise of escape, of belonging, of power. But my heart clenched with memory, the ghost of a sister, an empty house devoid of life, inescapable loss, and the weight of a bargain at sea.

I shook my head, standing against the riptide. No. The word is soft, nearly swept away. I... I can't. Sophie's smile fumbled. Her eyes blinked with understanding and sorrow, and she bowed her head, pressing a cool, wept palm to the water's surface.

Under stars. Then she was gone, darting off into the dark, deep towards her lord. Several shapes and bodies emerged and swam beside her as song began to tuck in my bones, unfaltering as it reached the storm. I blinked, a reflex, nothing more than a nervous flutter of lashes, and it all disappeared. I'm so sudden and complete that it snatched the air from my lungs. The air was warm then, touched with the delicate golden perfume of summer and the gentle hiss of a lazy tide. I stood alone under a clear blue sky, wet sand clinging to my ankles as the innocent sparkle of the sun dazzled off the waves.

It had never looked more beautiful, no tragedy. Nothing unnatural had ever trespassed here. Are you all right, lass? I squinted as a gruff figure approached. His jacket too big, patched and weathered. A fisherman. One of Rafe's old crew. He altered a few steps away.

Concerned furrowing in his brows. He studied my face. Nora? Sades, girl? Ellie's sister, yeah? Glanced uncertainly at the tide and back of me. His anxiety deepening the circles under his eyes. Bless Mary, what are you doing, girl?

You weren't thinking of fall on your assist, were you? I... No. I managed voice. his gaze widened, weary, as if part of him didn't believe I could speak. Let's get you home last, ya. In the days that followed, I moved through life half awake, wandering the rooms in my family's beaten cottage, absorbed by absence and silence.

The fisherman found me again, whose kindness was gentle and a bit awkward, and he offered me a place aboard his trawler, a very ship Rafe once commanded. I joined the crew, not as a figure of authority, but as calloused hands to men net. Hall crates and steady hearts as we venture onto the mirror. The work was hard and cold, the water sometimes restless, but I found a strange comfort in the repetition and a sense of belonging in the rowdy brotherhood of the crew. When the catch was poor, I found myself meandering to the cemetery on the hillside, when tugging at my coat as I stood before rows of faded stones.

I left flowers and mourned for the ones I'd lost, anticipating when the next body would wash ash ashore. But inexplicably, no more went missing. No deaths, no funerals, no blue boys. Never Again. Whenever dread had gripped our town had loosened its grip. Knights would bring strange, vivid dreams, glimpses of an ancient city far beneath the waves of pale sirens trailing red hair through coral towers, of songs echoing from impossible depths to soothe far more impossible creatures. I awoke each morning struck by a fierce sense of longing and relief. Most unexpectedly, I became friends with the new lighthouse keeper. A younger man recently arrived from across the street.

We brought unknown wonders of the world, one of which was a computer. Man, computer hit me like a flashbank, this entire story. To me, it's like 1800. That's what I thought too. It's like, whoa, whoa, whoa. I guess this could be at any time. You're right. He welcomed me into the lighthouse's warming light and on quite.

quiet afternoons, invited me to his studio deep in the basement, where canvas and paint replaced charts and science. His enthusiasm for art and color restored, something bright inside me, if only for a while. With time, I found solace, and maybe joy, in the strokes of pencil and brush, turning my restless nights and haunted dreams into drawings and stories. At first, I sketch quietly, afraid someone might glimpse the strange visions that split from my sleep, haunting monsters and scaly women with bright eyes, ships collapsing beneath storms, villages swarmed with brine. My books grew thick, and soon the keeper discovered my hobby.

He encouraged me, offering up empty walls and blank canvases for my work as the whole town took notice of the sometimes storyteller, sometimes artists, occasionally mad, young woman among them. Recognition brought a thrill, a sort of pride in the way men would leave me flowers. or how shopkeepers begged for a tale at closing hour. That pride quickly soured into a yearning I could not deny. My home was growing stale. Every face became too familiar. Every grave and grace was counted.

My work ached for wider eyes, for a world beyond fog and water. So, at the words of traveling merchants and my peers, I packed what little I owned and set out for the mainland. London. What a change it was. frantic energy, the clang of its streets, the endless faces and lights that chased memories away. I struggled, hawking my art to anyone who would look, till galleries and magazines paid attention

to the strange, quiet artists from afar, lonely shore, a silent girl from a wailing sea, painting monsters and pinning fables. People found me fascinating. I tasted enough success to lay a banquet. I work hung in bookstores. My name was whispered. at readings and gala, strangers sought my signature, and yet even amid the noise and adulation. I found an old, ancient longing tug at me every time my eyes fell upon one of my paintings. Its hunger lived on in my colors. Saddened when each story ended, and despite all I had gained, I never felt whole. There was always some haunting emptiness waiting beyond the edge of my canvas.

The vivid dreams that once kindled my creativity soon began to fade, then vanished altogether, if my body had forgotten how. Soon, I could not even sleep, and my nights became dry, endless vigils, drove me into the edges of madness. My memoirs and logs grew scattered, fragmented documents written in nighttime scrawls that made no sense come morning. Time lost all substances, one day bled into the next, wakeful and restless. My eyes burned. My hands cramped with the effort of writing, but it cannot stave off the deliriums nor the wretched throbbing in my hands. head. So, at the edge of the world, I paced an old pier, far from the city's clamor. The night's sky was washed with stars, each one glinting atop the dark belly of the sea, and out of those

velvet waves rose a song I knew, an old, achingly beautiful melody that threaded through my mind as if calling me home, an overdue dream of promise not forgotten. A head of red hair plopped up to find me shining in the moonlight her pink eyes bright with hope and glee she outstretched a hand she had done years before and this time i did not hesitate as i threw myself into the sea how wonderful that's the end wow just beautiful that was a beautiful story i really enjoyed that yeah yeah i the um you know it's funny this well i just want to say that was a great story i think that it tackles the um Kind of like a sailor. I know love crafty indefinitely vibe.

I think in a way that a lot of our viewers, the criticism I've seen in the past of leaving things ambiguous or, you know, it's just it's almost used as a crutch. But I feel like this takes the setting of the sailor and these like coastal town vibes and really just has a lot of fun with it. I mean, just it starts off. It's such a roller coaster. You know what I mean?

Like a girl, sister dies the town up in arms goes to the lightkeeper that know they know that he's uh responsible for it they break in she like basically gets thrown up in her mouth she's able to like basically live the life of this uh a siren or mermaid um saves her life then basically rejects this this calling of like come with me and then she basically lives her own life and then is completely but i wouldn't say completely disappointed but it's just the the longing that she feels can never be replaced until she like later in life accepts this like new call it's just i don't know it's weird you get so much but it's so punchy still like

that wasn't a super drawn out thing yet it weaves itself very beautifully together with a lot of just amazing poetic kind of language that i think is uh i don't know i found it to be very very uh i thought it was beautiful thought this was a beautiful story uh i think that the perspective shift to the siren was very cool. I like seeing her entire life and the tragedy that led her to joining sirens at sea. And then that thing the siren says where it's like under stars when you last sleep and it's like, I'll be there for you in the end. And then the promise was kept and she comes back to the siren. But ultimately, you know, what the siren does is it kills people on behalf of an old god. So it's not a good thing. But for someone who had known so much tragedy and so much

was taken, then perhaps it would be better to be a part of such evil because then you have a home, you have a sister again, you have a purpose. So it's like a temptation to give into what's easier because if it's something that's better. Like it's a deep evil and it killed the people of the town. And the original lightkeeper wasn't evil, but he was a part of this occult practice. There was really something that went bump in the night. He was just kind of studying it. but the people that went missing was technically his fault because it was trying to get the siren back. It was trying to retrieve the mermaid. So by him having her locked up, that's why people were dying.

So I don't know. This was a fascinating story. I like the shift. I don't know if you have to have all this stuff about her becoming like a famous writer and stuff. I feel like it would, I kind of wanted it to end where she just stays in the town and she's like the old crone who tells stories of mermaids that ever. kind of laughs off. And then when she's like elderly, that's when she comes back to the sea, like before her death, right? I feel like that's a bit more effective than traveling and riding and

stuff. But I mean, I'm nitpicking here. It's a very beautiful story. I think that I read it more is like you grow like she rejects it the first time because one, it's this foreign thing. And I think that it's also a, I don't know, like her leaving, experiencing life on the island and experiencing something new. She finds something else out about herself, which is like I love to. to like create and write and stuff. Not in like a way where it feels like she's discovering herself without her sister. She's finding out more about herself that's like beyond this tragedy. But even beyond the tragedy,

I think that there's like a yearning that like that life itself can't overcome this like, deep entrenched feeling of loss or like maybe like regret for not taking her hand the first time. I don't know. You know what I mean? I, it was, I like the idea. I know what you're saying that it's like she lives her whole life and then from outstretched she can do that. But I also like the idea that she at least experiences and grows and learns a bit before, um,

come like, because before not enough. Yeah, before coming to the realization that she's just like, this is the thing that I'm like after is this fantastical. Um, I've always thought of that. Yeah,

I can never, I've seen this world impossible. I've seen the piece, the mermaid had stuff. I want that. I want to be a part of that. Yeah. Yeah, definitely definitely I like it a lot.

And a lot of the riding was very beautiful. I like that it also parallels the, uh, the exploration that we have with the, like with the siren, like almost like the aftermath of this is like us also experiencing what her life ends up happening before she inevitably goes into the ocean again. You know what I mean?

The same way that our main character, uh, gets to experience the mermaid's adventure. That's a good point. We see they, yeah, that's a good connection. We see the siren's whole story before.

she became like a siren and now that's what basically happened with our protagonist. It was her whole story that led up to her eventual becoming of a siren. Yeah. I think even her just being trapped, her being like hunted, trapped by this person. It felt like it was the same thing of like being trapped by the mediocrity of like, I guess just human life,

the repetitive nature of human life and being trapped in this way that, I think that she was probably just trying to escape different ways, where she escaped through leaving her town, being able to experience things in her own, yet it's still just, you know, felt like this mundane, um,

I guess exploration. So whenever, yeah, she comes back, it just feels like a sense of belonging now. Of like seeing this person go. But the, uh,

the, the, like the, the, the, like, that'd be fucking horrifying. Also,

swimming around Cthululow all day. Fuck that. I don't think I don't know. Yeah, I mean, but it, but it almost implies that is like a fatherly relationship.

No, it is. Between the mermaids. Yeah, yeah, it is. And I think that, uh, it's almost like this immortal kind of coil of like living beneath the surface and being able to like, I don't know, yeah, experience that like, just a completely different world. It's, it's a very interesting, uh, it's a very interesting ending because it, it also, in a way that you're given so much information so quickly that it also, it melds together.

And it kind of, uh, I don't know. It really does just like, fucking. explode your head a bit whenever it's like you find out that was like the mermaid's backstory. So I don't know. It's just a lot. It's a lot to think about it. I'm like trying to wrap my head around it, but very beautifully done. And also too, awesome that it was on tales from the creeps and stuff. And this, this has like a last thought that I have for today is the the evolution of even just like storytellers online, you know, of like how people looked at

uploading horror stories from like our slash no sleep at the very beginning to where we are It wasn't a pretty big spread, right? We read the one from 11 years ago and then the one from a few months ago. Yeah. And obviously, you know, different riders, different skills. But it's like, that back then was like one of the best. And this one is so good. Like the language is so different in the tone and all that.

Yeah. Which, you know, not to say that writers back then weren't good or anything, but just the evolution of how people are like, this is like a small format. You know, like the way that we're approaching the story writing or storytelling versus like the story we read today or both of them today. or both of them today, there's just vastly different. And it's just kind of cool to see, you know, and it does make me think like,

man, 10 years from now are people going to read this and be like, oh, that's an interesting way that they wrote about X, Y, or Z. Like,

how does it evolve again? You know, how, like, what way does this storytelling, uh, reface and repurpose, um,

online. Cause I just, you know, I just feel like there's this always this constant. I don't know where the internet's going to be at in like 10 years or whatever, but I do think that like, if there's a way for people to,

I guess, like, express themselves in forums or websites or however, I do think that there's a way. And I think that each generation is going to find its way to do that too. So it's got needless to say, really both. I like both of them, but I do think like the one from our slash or Tales from the Creep, whatever. I do think like that one was a home run. Really, really enjoyed it. I agree. Yeah, that one banged. So that author again, his name is user sufficient leaves 144. We'll have them linked in the description. They have a ton of stories that they've posted to the creepcast.

back when we were posted on Creepcast and Tales from the Creepcast they have a story called Motor, motor I believe. They have one that looks like it's already been picked up by some narration YouTubers

called Lavender on the snow and then they have some other four inches of mercy. They have one called Yellow Kings which has been read online and also has a not safe for work warning I know you freaks are into that kind of thing. So I mean it looks like

I'm going to read more of their stuff because that was fantastic. and I want to see I want to see how many home runs they have in them. But yeah, check out Sufficient Leave 1-44. They're still writing right now. They're posting like a few days ago in the creepcast sub-breddit. So be sure to show them some love, let you let them know that you enjoyed their story. And we want to see more because I certainly do.

So say it for me. I mean, this just goes to show too, man, that so many people, you know, I mean, just to gush about our community. You have so many fucking talented people in this community. And I think that like a lot of people that do want to just read that don't, they don't want to just hear us. That's a big thing. If you're getting into writing,

don't just do it because you want to be on the show. Do it because there's a community of people right now that are only watching this show just because they love the community of writers and they just want to like experience new shit. So just know that, you know, fucking throw your stuff up on there, let people write,

like read your stuff because there's a whole army of people that do, you know, so. I even saw like, leave was talking about in their description for other stuff, which I'm not saying this to, you know, crap where I eat but they were talking about how

now you go to no sleep and you know it's so saturated they're so strict with rules and stuff but you come to our slash creepcast look at that everyone's friendly everyone likes your story not stickler for the rules not to downplay no sleep

because you know we've made a lot of money off no sleep and this podcast success but I'm just saying if you want it's pretty cool over here you know ours like our slash great guys be pretty cool I think it's cool I think it's just a

smaller community as well right now that I think it's just it's just cool seeing people that are making it for the for this community you know and I think it starts in a like-minded community for people to be down with some of stuff that you're thrown out there versus it being such a huge uh divided pie of a community where it's like well some people like this but some people like that so it's cool yeah I think that you know what if you're trying to write anything this is a great place to start and please uh submit it because we also want to read it as well but But until next time, guys, thank you so much to our audio listeners who were listening on Spotify, have a podcast and gave us a beautiful rating there. We appreciate you. And, of course, thank you to the patrons who help us keep this thing going and also get some extra stuff on the side. We appreciate that as well. If you're interested, links will be below. Until next time, guys, we will see you then.

Bye-bye. Stay creeped. We'll see you in the next one. And I think the moral of today's story is if you're thinking about getting in the water, just kill yourself. It's easier, saves every one time. It's not worth it, no matter what's in there. Your wife's drowning, lost all your money. Too bad. It's the seas now.

Belongs to Cthulhu. And also, Hunter did not say it, but that last story was very lovecraftian. You're welcome. Bye.