CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "I'm a storm drain worker. I discovered a secret set of tunnels" Creepypasta

Episode Date: November 28, 2024

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My entire life has revolved around the infrastructure that lay beneath our feet. My father and our generations before him all bore the same responsibility, maintaining the city's arteries. I know the labyrinthine storm drain system that sits below us better than my own home. It had rained heavily over the last week, so when my phone buzzed in the morning, I already knew what it was about. The council called me in a panic about flooding in the industrial area, admittedly less maintained than the residential systems, and begged me to check it out.

Their frantic tone was lost on me, because I was expecting this to happen. Another day of the job. I grabbed my gear, which was well maintained but worn out from years of use, and I slipped a pack of lucky strikes into my pocket, a habit I'd never. never been able to kick and headed on my way. Stepping out of my truck, I tightened my gloves, secured my boots, and started trudging down the old path toward the northeastern entrance. The opening to the train was a gaping hole in the earth, the city's very moor had seemed

prepared to swallow just about anything whole. The first glaring thing I noticed was the high water levels in the tunnel, so that soak in my boots as I waded in. I expected water, but I didn't expect a small fire pit still smouldering slightly near the entrance. The thought of homeless people in the drains crossed my mind, and it wasn't a comforting thought. I'd seen this before. The vagabonds that took refuge in drains in this area were notoriously nasty.

I grabbed my pack of lucky strikes and lit a cigarette to calm myself for a bit of. potential confrontation. As I entered, I noticed just how deep the water went. I grabbed my flood gauge to measure the water level. I had to know the exact number before making any further assessments. 11 inches above road level, 5 inches more than what it should be. I grabbed my notebook and jotted down the numbers. I compared it to my previous measurements of this area. which was abnormal. I constantly kept meticulous notes, so I checked further back to see if there had been any incidents like this before.

But this was the first time it had reached these levels. No minor issue would cause the water level to almost double like this, so I knew I had to make my way in and diagnose the situation immediately. Due to the flooding, I had to ensure the air was breathable, With potential damage to the systems, leaks from the sewage could cause a plethora of gases to build up. So I pulled out my handheld gas detector and ventured a little further into the tunnels, flashlight in hand. Further in, the air was thick, the scent of decay and mildew lingered. I scanned the walls for any signs of a potential cause of the over-the-top flooding,

but I saw nothing apart from some graffiti and muddew. along the walls. I grabbed my multi-tool from my left side and tapped it on the wall for a few brief moments. Sometimes water would leak out between the tunnels, causing a slight shifting and misalignment of the entire system, which alone caused a myriad of issues. The wall sounded more hollow than they should, and I briefly stepped out to grab my laser distance device. I had to check for slight shifts in the path. The results yielded what I had already known, a moderate shift and a slight sag.

But knowing the exact numbers could help me find the root of the issues, so I added another entry into my almost full notebook. The deeper I ventured, the more the sound of rain and the city bustling faded. Now, the most prominent sounds with a slight rumours. from the industrial machines above. This was just more proof of the state of the tunnel I was in. I didn't remember them being this pronounced when I was last here,

and I figured the tunnel shift caused pockets for the walls to vibrate more. I used chalk to mark the route I had taken. It was already lined with previous marks made by me, and despite feeling confident about knowing my way around, marking my way was a habit my grandfather had drilled in the way. father had drilled into me. I found a nice fork in my path and figured I was finally deep enough to check the gas levels. The little handheld device beat to life.

I had to be aware of anything that could harm me if I went deeper. Methane showed 150 ppmv, fairly normal for being this deep into a drain. Hydrogen sulfide registered at 4 ppmv, which wouldn't affect me too much as as long as I didn't stick around too long. But the odd thing was the high levels of carbon monoxide. This meant I had to be careful with how much

I exerted myself. I wasn't quite sure why the levels were so high, but I was at least confident I could explore more to find out. I arrived at the red maintenance room door and went to check the pressure gauges. The gauge

readings were all over the place, which either alluded to a massive block, or worse, a crack in the infrastructure. The strangest readings were towards the north-northwest, so now I knew where I had to head. The path towards the north-northwest line proved my suspicions correct. The water level fluctuated and the flow seemed to slow down, a tell-tale sign of a blockage. The rumbling was getting louder now. I knew I was getting close to the source of the problem.

This was made more apparent by the shaking of the cement around me. The infrastructure was weaker here. As I rounded the corner, I finally encountered the issue. A sizable amount of rubble was in the way, creating a makeshift dam and a hole in the wall. I noted more information before approaching the scene. The wall seemed to have been blown out by force. Pressure built up from somewhere on the other side of the wall and blew inwards. There was no other way for the rubble to end up inside the tunnel in the manner that it did.

I approached the hole in the wall itself and shine my flashlight through. It was bigger than if the concrete had just crumbled. It was down near half my size. I expected to see a pocket of dirt, possibly a gap from the tunnel. tunnel shifting, which caused pressure to blow inwards. What I didn't expect was an entirely different tunnel system. This hidden tunnel seemed to be entirely walled with compressed dirt rather than concrete, which showed that it wasn't just another symmetrical tunnel or an older abandoned one.

I took my notebook out and read through the things I had already written down, wondering if I might have information on this. By all means, I could have just made my way out, planned with my team and the city council, and worked through this more prepared. But those damn assholes would make me file countless reports on this before he even stepped foot back in. It would take weeks just to get the repair schedule, and this would come after countless days of surveying.

From the gases to the numbers and the pressure gauges and the shift in the tunnels layout, it wasn't ridiculous to say that everything could get worse, fast. without proper intervention, or at least finding the underlying issues as soon as possible. And even if the repairs got underway promptly, undoubtedly, our city's cheap bureaucracy would do no more than seal up the hole, only to have it break again or worse in the future. Ultimately, I decided I would go inside the hole, if only briefly. My idea was to poke around to get enough evidence, which would have to be able to. hopefully convinced the higher-ups that the repairs of the tunnel shouldn't just be superficial.

This way, they couldn't just declare the hole to be patched up and pretend nothing else was wrong. I braced myself and crawled inside. The first thing that hit me was the smell. The air was thicker with a faint earthly scent and something metallic. I ran my hand along the walls of the dirt tunnel. I glanced over my shoulder and the dim light from the hole barely penetrated the darkness around me. So I clicked my flashlight on and looked around. There were jagged marks left by whatever tools had been used to gouge it out. This wasn't the work of modern machinery. These tunnels had an older feeling like they had been dug out by pickaxes or something more archaic.

Then the rumbling came again. In here, however, surrounded by dirt, the sound was more muffled, but the impact of the shaking was much more present. The earth around me shook, causing little bits and pieces to fall off the ceiling, but the tunnel held. Whatever machinery was being used in the industrial area above must have been heavy duty for it to be felt on the soft dirt of the tunnel. a good sense of my surroundings, I moved deeper into the tunnel. With each step, the tunnel

sloped gently downward. The floor was uneven and littered with loose dirt and small stones. I started mentally mapping the path I was taking. So far, it was following perpendicular to the storm drain, but I wasn't sure how long that would be the case for, and I sure as hell wasn't about to get myself lost. I periodically paused to mark the walls using my multi-tool. It took more effort than expected. The earth had been packed so hard that immense pressure must have been used while digging this tunnel out. At least it meant the tunnel had some structural integrity,

seeing as there weren't any support beams left after its construction. As I ventured further, I noticed the tunnel's dimensions were strangely irregular. They sometimes narrowed and other times they widened. I grabbed my distance measure and the numbers confirm my suspicions. This was not a professionally dug out or well-planned tunnel. This raised more questions on top of the many that were already piling on. Next, I flicked the gas detector on. The numbers showed higher levels of methane and significantly lower levels of carbon monoxide. I grabbed my notebook once more and started writing the numbers down.

But then, in the middle of my writing, the rumble started again. This time, it was different. It was no longer just a muffled reverberation. I could feel it more in my feet. And now, it was rhythmic. Thump, thump, thump. It was louder now, and it echoed, a pulsing thrum that vibrated through the dirt. The ground beneath my boots felt unstable, as if the very earth could shift at any moment.

And it wasn't just getting louder. No, it was getting closer. Behind me. I didn't want to waste time turning around. took over, screaming at me to get away. I dropped my notebook and made a run for it. The tunnel, already constricting at the seams, seemed to grow even smaller as I tore through the darkness.

The beam of my flashlight flung around wildly as the thudding behind me grew louder. The thing behind me was matching my pace. The tunnel wasn't just vibrating now. It was shaking, as if whatever was behind me threatened to collapse it entirely. I slid and skid in a loose dirt, almost losing my footing. I fought to keep my breath consistent in the dense tunnel air.

My heart beat loudly in my ears, drowning out everything but the thing's relentless approach. I reached the fork in the tunnel and did not hesitate for a moment. With no time to lose, I instantly veered left, the narrow passage forcing me to duck slightly. The rumbling behind me grew distant for the slightest a moment, as if it had miscalculated the turn. It gave me an inkling of hope, but I knew I wasn't out of it yet. I needed an exit, and I needed it fast. I had put some distance between me and whatever was behind me, but I was also further away

from the only exit I knew of. The tunnel twisted and turned now, no longer straight and coordinated. It was now serpentine in nature. Its pace kept up with me on long straits. The earth ground as whatever it was worked his way down corridors. However, it slowed down on turns. Knowing this, I darted to the side every chance I got, and eventually the distance widened so much that I could barely hear it. The only downside was that I was almost entirely lost. Sure, I prided myself in tracking my turns perfectly in the storm drain tunnels. It was borderline mandatory for the job.

But in the rush, I did not have the luxury to take detailed mental notes on my directions. My only saving grace was that I had a general idea of the cardinal direction I had moved. So my only option was to head back in one general direction and hope no turns deviated me too much. I calmly backtracked. Without the urgency of escape, I had time to think on the situation. Whatever it chased me must have been a machine I'd never seen before. Without the sporadic nature of the tunnels it left behind, it was too asymmetrical and erratic

to be a new storm drain system. The nature of these tunnels was just as confusing as when I'd found them. Despite this, I couldn't be mad at the person operating the machine. Regardless of my opinions on the mess they were making here, it was my fault that I'd stumbled into a live construction site. However, I could be mad that they had carelessly damaged the storm drain system that neighboured their project. My priority was to make contact with whoever was working these new tunnels

to stop current operations for me to get out safely. I followed imprints of my running footprints back as well as I could and made educated guesses for times that I lost my tracks. I would always seem to circle back to my tracks, which made me thankful for the sense of direction drilled into me by my grandfather. As I made progress, I heard a low rumble. It sounded like an idle engine, though it was rhythmic, not a static hum.

It was a slight deviation from my path, But to ensure my safety, I detoured towards it, hoping to make contact to tell them to cease operations while I made my way out, and to secretly get the name of the company that was going to be my new nemesis as soon as I got out. I reached the fork, the hum reverberating from the right, so I called out, loudly in case the engine drowned out my cries. I heard nothing back. so for my safety

I slowed my pace to a crawl calling out incessantly to no avail the worker must have been ignorant to a passing vagrant in the tunnels which part of me couldn't blame him for as the situation was very bizarre but frustrated me to no end as I peaked my head around the corner

I slowly brought my arm around to try flash my light into the cabin of the machine if they couldn't hear me there was no way they could miss my light, fur. Instead of a luminescent paint job on hardened steel, I saw disheveled fur, legs poking out with long, concave claws,

perfect for digging, perfect for tunnel in. It shuffled more, its breathing hums, rumbling more erratically, as it knew I was near. To my amazing luck, I saw no head, I was behind it, and whatever this creature was, it had no way to turn around or reverse. Its frustration was projected from its increased breathing and grunting.

My shock held me as I looked it over, and despite how much I racked my brain over the many animals I knew of, nothing in the world came close to whatever this was. It was huge, leaving almost no space around it. The tunnel was a perfect fit around it, tailor made for it to move through. And seeing the size of the tunnel, I was astonished that a creature so big could exist. While I was looking over its strange tail, it suddenly darted off. Despite its size, it moved fast, its claws digging deep with a recognisable thump each time and pulling it forward at a surprising pace.

It veered left and shuffled away. This wasn't the reprise I was hoping for. As I heard it turn, then turn again, and soon I heard it getting louder, but from my left. It was circling around, and I did not want to hang around long enough to see its front end. Its behavior told me that seeing it up close would be a death sentence. So, adrenaline took over as I turned and ran. I tried to line back up to where I'd been backtracking before, but in the rush I did not have the luxury of studying the ground for footprints.

Like before, it gained on me on the streets and I created distance on the turns. But each turn twisted my sense of direction until I was utterly turned around, just rushing through the dark to find safety. But I found something else instead. created a good distance between the creature, but not enough for it to lose its chase, and in front of me was a wall of dirt, a dead end. The scraping told me it had tunneled up to this point and stopped, and the concrete behind some gashes told me it had reached the storm drain tunnels and couldn't get through.

All that went through my mind was if I could make it to the last turn I made to continue this game of cat and mouse. I turned to run back and try, but I stumbled and slipped on loose dirt, barely catch myself before I fell. The beam of my flashlight flickered on and off, casting shadows on the wall. I paused for a moment to steady my hand. That small bit of wasted time was all it took. I was too late.

I heard it approaching the turn ahead, and with its pace there was no way for me to return to the crossroads on time. The straight was too far for me to beat it to the turn, and even if I did, I would be on another straight with it just meters behind me, too close to beat it until the next turn. It was over. I could die in vain, or I could go out on my own terms, and a wash of serenity came over me surprisingly quickly as I just accepted the situation. I slumped down on a mound of loose dirt, got comfortable, and, pulled out the lucky stripes I'd stashed in my front pocket.

Smoking in a tunnel was forbidden for obvious reasons, but my final act was the stick it to the rules and do something I'd always wanted to do. I lit the flame of the lighter, briefly illuminating the tunnel in which I now sat. The first drag was harsh, the smoke caught in my throat and scratched relentlessly, but the buzz was the best mental reprieve from the incoming doom, a final moment of bliss before the end. The rumbling approached, nearing the final corner before the long straight to my dead end. The air thickened with the smoke as I rushed another hit, trying to see if I could at least finish it before it reached me. It seemed I was allowed some extra time as it slowed. Either

it was savoring the moment, or it knew I was in a dead end. Either way, I was fortunate in an unfortunate way, so I continued to savor my final act. To prepare myself, I just focused on the cigarette, staring at the red embers that lit up as I drew it in, trying to push the thoughts of a violent death to the back of my mind, never gone, but far enough away to try find some last second piece. the red reached the tip of the butt, I felt a nauseating sense of finality. I had associated the end of the cigarette with the end of my life. But as I slowly came to, back in the moment, I was holding the smoldering remains of the cigarette

in silence. Smoke blocked the beam of the light from my flashlight. One of the many reasons were not allowed to smoke while on the job. The stale air was replaced by the strong smell. of nicotine, and my vision barely passed a few feet. This would typically instill a sense of claustrophobia, but all I could think about was the creature, unmoving just out of vision. Having somewhat accepted my peace, I took a few paces forward, away from the dead end to see if it was still there. And as I approached, shuffling mirrored my movement. It groaned.

as it shuffled away in the same direction I was heading. I walked more, emerging from the cloud I had created. And there it was. My light didn't penetrate far enough to see it in its entirety, but it illuminated enough to see two pinprick eyes, like a cat caught in headlights in the dead of night. Growls rumbled as it dared approaching slowly. In the high of the moment,

I pieced together what was happening. I pulled out another cigarette, lit it up, and blew the smoke around. I lost sight of it, but I could hear it defiantly moving back. I edged forward step by step, creating a cloud around me, and I heard it bump into the wall of the turn and scramble to the side. As soon as it reared the bend, it shuffled forward and sped away. Everything that had transpired left me confused. So many questions swirled around my mind,

but I had to focus on the one absolute truth about the situation. I was given a chance to escape, and I had to take it. I moved through the tunnels, lit cigarette in hand. I tried not to smoke it too much, as each puff left me blinded for a short period, and I had a finite amount of cigarettes. But any time I heard the thumping nearby, I let out a few exhales of smoke,

and it would edge away, always near but never approaching. With the downtime, I was able to find the remnants of some of my stumped footprints, and I used the indent of my sprinting heel imprints to slowly track back to where I was. Eventually, I saw something that stood out of the dirt, just sticking out by a corner and a bit torn.

My notebook, which seemed to have been scratched up but otherwise intact. I was ecstatic. I hadn't dropped it too far from the exit, which was important to me, so I snatched it up, getting my bearings on the last distance to the exit. But then, another sensation hit me. The space between my fingers burned ever so slightly, as the cigarette came to its end. Then, as if on cue, thump, thump, thump.

The rumbling thumping reappeared, this time hurried, angry. Either it was frustrated at being teased by its food, always moving away, or it knew I was nearing the exit. The walls around me shook and debris landed all around me. I ran like hell. Everything reached the crescendo. The creature shook the earth as it pommeled through the tunnel toward me, and I could tell it was gaining ground fast. But I was just fast enough.

I cut my back up, diving through the hole, just making it through and something sharp swiped at where I was. The pain was dulled by the rush of adrenaline that fueled my last dash for freedom. I could hear the concrete get scraped away, and the wall reverberated with the heart. I was reverberated with the harsh sound of it trying to get through. I was soaked on the floor, landing on the flooding and rubble on the other side. I grabbed some debris and threw it at the hole, desperate to either hit it or block it up as best I could. But I knew it was a job too much for one man. Once the smell of dampness wore off.

I smelled something new. Smoke. At first I thought it was my clothing. probably stained from the smell of cigarettes I had just gone through, but it was strong and smelled distinct, more earthen. It coincided with my walkout. Following the route I took and hearing the rain from outside, I made my way to the exit, and my eyes watered, not from relief, but from the smoke being blasted towards me.

I had to cover my face with my sleeve as I went down the final straight, and when I could finally see again, I saw what was causing all the smoke. The barrel at the front, which I thought was just a fire for the homeless, was lit with a fresh flame. A mix of dry wood for fuel and wet leaves for smoke. It wafted through the storm drain tunnels with fervor from the strong winds. Once outside, I felt a new sense of urgency, a feeling to relish my freedom, but also to take action. I ran back to my truck and dialed the city council. I made arrangements for repairs, making no mention of the tunnels I had found.

I explained I found a hole, but that the gases from the earth were leaking through. That way, the people who go in won't need to enter the other side and would wear enough protection to obscure their vision. The less curiosity, the better. Over the coming weeks in preparation, I kept the fire lit like clockwork. I've never crossed paths with whoever has been lighting it before or when I was in there, but they exist. Some days I go to light it, only to see someone has beaten me to it. Whoever it was seemed to know about the creature before me and seemed to appreciate my joining their efforts once leaving a thank you note on the barrel for me

When the time came for repairs I waited for the boys to go inside the tunnels watching them glance at the fire as they went past They tried to kick up a fuss about it Obviously being a hazard for them to work in the tunnels But I managed to spit enough jargon about the necessity of it They knew about construction, but I knew enough buzzwords about storm drain infrastructure to bold-faced lie about the need for the fire. They never knew that it was my only hope of keeping whatever was inside far away from them.

The entire time they made those repairs, I stood outside diligently, keeping the fire ablaze. And once they walked out, I lied that I was set it out once they left. I've been in the tunnel since the incident. I checked and saw I was still solid, but while doing my inspections, I sometimes still hear it. I no longer think it's the machines from the industrial area above. I recognize its movement patterns all too well now.

We're safe from it breaking through the solid concrete for now. But I still go by every so often, and keep the fire lit just in case it ever gets through again.