CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "There's a waterslide in the middle of the North Sea" Creepypasta

Episode Date: September 7, 2021

AUTHOR'S NEW BOOK►US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09DX5GB2QUK► https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B09DX5GB2QCREEPYPASTA STORY►by twocantherapper: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comm...Creepypastas are the campfire tales of the internet. Horror stories spread through Reddit r/nosleep, forums and blogs, rather than word of mouth. Whether you believe these scary stories to be true or not is left to your own discretion and imagination. LISTEN TO CREEPYPASTAS ON THE GO-SPOTIFY► https://open.spotify.com/show/7l0iRPd...iTUNES► https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast...CREEPY THUMBNAIL ART BY►Tapio SutinenSUGGESTED CREEPYPASTA PLAYLISTS-►"Good Places to Start"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7YCb...►"Personal Favourites"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AEa2R...►"Written by me"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gX6RA...►"Long Stories"- https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list...FOLLOW ME ON-►Twitter: https://twitter.com/Creeps_McPasta►Instagram: https://instagram.com/creepsmcpasta/►Twitch: http://www.twitch.tv/creepsmcpasta►Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CreepsMcPastaCREEPYPASTA MUSIC/ SFX- ►http://bit.ly/Audionic ♪►http://bit.ly/Myuusic ♪►http://bit.ly/incompt ♪►http://bit.ly/EpidemicM ♪-This creepypasta is for entertainment purposes only-

For some reason, some absolute weapon of a man built a water slide in the middle of the North Sea. Me and the lads on the codrola couldn't believe it when we found it. There we were, racing ourselves against 40 feet rogue waves and horizontal sleet carried on hurricane-level turbulence 50 miles out of Scotland when we spotted it. An eight-looped baby-blue plastic water slide standing defiantly amongst a building-sized waves and ship-booking winds. It had a ladder and little white and red flags for a lifeguard and everything It was gazz who saw it first Well damn, I muttered under my breath

That is a water slide Is that a bloody water slide? Old Dave the captain had poked his head out of the cabin to get a view Un inhabited by the fat drops of rain smashing into the viewing window Bloody hell My God, it actually is That's a damn water slide in the middle of the North Sea He joined the rest of us, running from the wheel under the deck to lean over the starboard bulwark.

Every man on the vessel stood, gorping at the horizontal blue loops. Those steel bars set into concrete, standing firm against a lashing of wind and monstrous waves. Even the tiny lifeguard flags and the tiny bucket they were in seemed unperturbed by the North Sea's rage. This was in stark contrast to the nets and gears in the ship deck, all of which strained at the straps saving the them from being lost at sea. The search beam on the roof's cabin swung in the concrete plinth direction, carving it out against the almost

unscathed Arctic darkness. I turned around, peering to see who had climbed up to direct it. That's... When the ship capsized. It happened in three moments. The mother of all surges crashed down. I was in the air above churning foam.

All was black, and my lungs filled with ice water. We had life jackets, of course, but in seas this rough, the buoyancy offers little help. Fortunately, this wasn't the first time I'd found myself in the drink. Adrenaline let instinct take charge, and I became singularly focused. Swim. Swim and don't look until you reach that damn water slide. The constant flashes of lightning were my only guide. Somehow, though, I made it to the concrete platform.

My lungs burned from inhaling so much of that sub-zeroing. salt water. Those freezing waves still smashed around me as I climbed the steel rungs bolted to one side of the structure. It was when I got to the top that I was allowed a lightning strike snapshot of our ship's stern vanishing below the churning surface. The gale was still beating down to me. There were no signs to my crewmates, but I dare not risk standing to look for them in the roaring black waves. The board of those winds would no doubt have carried me straight back into the freezing waters. Instead, I rolled towards the only thing I could see on the platform

besides a blue plastic water slide. A hole, about ten feet in diameter, in the centre of the concrete space. I was terrified by the time I reached it, but only by the memories of Mick or Benny or Saul's mum's weeping faces when they found out their boys had drowned. I'd sworn never to do that to my old dear. That's why I only peered into the game.

gaping ladderless hole for a few moments, before deciding this unknown danger was far less than the known certainty of the enraged North Sea. The lightning-carved silhouette of a fresh 30-footer bearing down on the platform was all it took for me to close my eyes and throw myself into the yawning void. The Arctic overspill from above fell through the darkness with me. We weren't falling for long. After about ten minutes, my plummet was broken by something soft, cold and clothed in wet fabric. It crunched beneath me when I landed, despite the distinctly moist squouting nature of the way it cushioned my landing.

It took me a few minutes to find a flare in the safety kit of my belt. Even though the echoing from the tunnel mouth on the distant ceiling made the roar of the waves louder than ever before, I still heard the hype-bid scream that could only have come from my own mouth. It couldn't have come from marble threads. Their necks were broken. That's why discovering I'd landed on them, made me scramble as far back into the flare-lit room as I possibly could.

I screamed even louder when Gaz came falling through the hole. Who the hell is screaming? Keith, mate, is that you? What have I landed... Oh my God, is that a big pile of... Gaz? Gas, move away from the damn hole! For a man with a moniker that contains the words,

Big and Fat, Gaz could move fast when he needed to. This is an essential skill for any... fisherman, as nobody wants to be decapitated by a snapped line. Another life-saving skill is knowing when to follow instructions without stopping to look around and find out why. It's both of these skills which saved Gaz from being crushed by the falling frames of Dave and Alfie.

Dave landed safely on the pile of sudden corpses. The organic snap which correct the air let us know Alfie had joined them. What a damn storm, Dave grinned at us. Before the grin turned into a scream upon noticing the puddle of blood forming around where a sharp piece of bone protruded from the new unnatural joint in Alfi's neck. Jesus Christ, Alfie, no. Wait, is that Bob? Dave, just move!

It was Gaz that yelled this time. Still, only a yard or two from the hole himself. Dave showed the same intuitive response that kept Gaz alive, rolling from the corpse pile mere milliseconds before the thick boots did to fret school what they would have done to his own. I want to go home, Nathan whimpered, upon seeing the red mess of bone and brain on his thick rubber footwear. I want to go home.

I want to go home. I want to. He was snapped out of his panic jabbering by his own neck snapping. Jim rolled off of him and the other bodies, already panicking from the realization of what had just happened. By the time, a few minutes had passed since the last my former crewmates had fallen to the death. there are only four of us standing. Me, Gaz, Dave and Jim.

Four bodies lay in a pile, leering at us through dim red lights of the flare. The rest never made it out of the waves. Lads, Gaz eventually managed, once we'd all stopped screaming. Where the hell are we? What in God's name just happened?

We capsized and we all swam for the water slide. Then we fell down a hole. I heard the words. leave my lips, rather than consciously deciding to say them. I was still in shock. I grew up on the flare trembling, and my gaze fighting hard, not to be drawn to the pair of glistening orphaned eyes peering at me from a few feet to my right. I have no clue why it's here, Dave said slowly, his thousand yards there locked on Fred's mangled

school. But I'm so glad we found the water slide. I've been on these ways for nearly forty years. I knew the sea, and I've never seen her this angry. It was a blessing, but still, something isn't right. Well, no, duh, Dave, something isn't right. Are you high? Of course something isn't right. You don't just find a water slide in the middle of the North Damned Sea.

Jim was slapping the back of his hand into his palm to emphasize each word of the last sentence. He was the youngest of us, and this was clearly shown in the additional layers of terror present on his face. I wasn't in a slate to acknowledge it at the time, but he was doing well, considering. he was also dealing with his first brush with drowning. As I said, though, I wasn't exactly in a fit state to recognise this. Shut up, Jim, and show some damn respect. You have no idea what you're talking about. Of the man and boy, the boy was struggling, but the man was very obviously broken.

So was I, though, which is why I ignored my instinct and turned to Dave. So, what do we do? The wide-eyed man, whose kind wrinkled face was usually so warm, was the least qualified at the moment to lead us. We followed him anyway. All I knew was that I was cold, in pain and terrified. Dave's ramblings may have just been lunatic gibberish, but they were maniacal nonsense from an authority I recognised. Had I been a bit more with it, we'd never have gone into the door marked. nursery

strictly no entry we'd been stumbling around wide unlit concrete corridors for about six hours when we found it the deep groaning from the metal beams lining the walls constantly reminded us that outside dark passages

there was nothing except inky ocean blackness and whatever monstrous things are contained aside from the pile of bodies the room we'd fallen into was quite bare there was a light switch

and a bulb hanging from each corner the ceiling, but despite Jim's frantic switch-flicking, they wouldn't sputter into life. The same went for the switches in the corridors he'd periodically try. Despite Dave's increasingly aggressive insistence, he'd leave them alone. The floors of the room and hallways were lined with red tiles. I don't know what colour they actually were, but the glow from the flare left them all rendered in a deep, flickering mosaic of scarlet and crimson's. There'd been lines of drains, the kind you find at swimming pools, to filter the seawater overspill from the hole in the ceiling. Clearly, there was some kind of power in the facility, as Jim could hear the distance

sucking and gushing of a pumping system when he put his ears to one of the plastic grates. That's why Jim suggested we follow the pipes leading left at the first split of the corridor. Dave disagreed. Dave decided we should keep following the rail. It was hanging from the ceiling, kept in place by thick steel cables drilled into the concrete every few feet or so. The rail started at the very lip of the hole, then ran along the dripping ceiling into the dark corridor that sprawled forth from the room's only exit. It was constructed from three stainless steel plates arranged in a rigid arc, housing a thick chain exposed on its underside.

This quietly clinking and clanking length of equally rusted iron rivets was looped around large wheels, said directly below each ceiling cable. My mind couldn't help but conjure up images of slaughterhouses and abattoirs, of gutted beasts turning slowly on meathugs, as a conveyor belt rail carried their corpses to the grinder in irregular, shuddering bursts. I think Jim's mind was conjuring similar images, which is why he didn't stop pleading with us to turn back, as we followed the rail further and further from the source of the gurgling water pump sounds.

There was definitely power somewhere in the world. this place, even if none of the light switches dispelled the darkness. The doors we found at various points were all sealed with the electronic keypads whose illuminated fingerprint scanners created small, glittering oasis of false hope as we traversed deeper below the waves. Jim kept trying these keypads until Dave's harsh reprimands grew into threat of violence. It was when we reached the empty lobby or landing and the rail disappeared into a steel hatch above the door signposted as the nursery, but Dave started to delivering on his promise.

Ow, what the hell, man? Jim was looking up at the three of us, a streak of dark red pouring from the nose that Dave had just broken. Dave's blood-covered fist was still shaking when he replied. I told you, shut the hell up. We're following the rail. The rail will lead us out.

Right, Gaz? Keith? Dave's newly wild eyes flickered between us in quick succession. Gaz smirked and nodded furiously. his face and a grin betrayed by his tearful eyes and trembling jaw. My nod was slow and accompanied by gulp. I don't know whether it was the twitching, the flex of spittle in this grey beard, or the way Dave's tongue would occasionally dart across his lips like a reptile.

But he was beginning to dawn on me that I'd backed the wrong horse in the power struggle between youthful ingenuity and old age's wisdom. No, you shut the hell up, you crazy old man. We've been down here hours, and this rail leads us to the damn nursery? Why would the way out be in a... The rocky trollerman never got to finish his sentence. The steel-capped toe of Dave's boot smashed into the boy's chin,

knocking him sideways into the cement wall. There was a dull crack, accompanied by a jet of dark red, spraying at the impact point where hair, flesh and bone, met cinder block. Jim's head bounced off the wall. He looked up at me, blood pulling from his split skull, eyes crossing in and out to focus. Keith, mate, please, the lump in my throat rose.

The message to step forward and put myself between the helpless teenager and the madman we'd mistakenly elected the lead was only halfway home when Dave responded for me. I screamed for the first time his heavy boot came down. Gass was holding me back for the subsequent two dozen stumps Dave delivered. His aging knee rose up and down,

down again and again, stamping on Jim's head until the dull squelching thuds were replaced by muted cracks and snaps of splitting bones, and then the wet smacks of rubber and blood-slick tiles. Jim's helpless and now headless body had stopped twitching long before Dave finished. What the hell, Dave? I screeched, struggling helplessly against Gaz's pudgy grip. What that actual hell are you doing, you madman? He was just a kid. behind my tear-stained eyes. All I could see were panic-fueled visions of Jim's mom, of me having to explain that I'd allowed a psychopathic mere pensioner to stamp on his head until his brains were splattered across the rubber arrow of rules of two grown men who should have saved him.

Oh, Keith, do you have the balls now, do you? Dave snarled, rounding on me. The wildness in his eyes had evolved into rogue blemishes around burst capillaries. Funny, I don't remember them when you got back to shore and walked in on your brother screwing your wife. Now, I wasn't just seeing red because of the flare. Before I could free myself and slam a fist into Dave's face for bringing up this known taboo subject, Gaz revealed just how much he also didn't appreciate the comment. You don't bring that up, Gaz roared. He threw me to the ground, stepping over me, and slamming a paw into Dave's chore with one fluid motion. You know we don't bring that

up! That could have been any one of our misses. It still amazes me that Dave raging an unspoken code amongst men who spent time away from their wives was what snapped Gaz out of his panic. He'd seen a young man have their head pulverized and said nothing. As it was, I was too shocked at the sudden ferocity with which Gas sigged himself on Dave to do anything but watch, jaw dropped and eyes almost wide as Dave's. For his part, Dave was too busy being repeatedly punched in the face by the obese man sat on his chest to comment on the situation.

You don't remind us that they cheat, Gaz punctuated each word with a fresh bloated Dave's face. From my viewpoint on the floor, I couldn't see its condition, but by the way, the old man's blood cover boots stopped kicking and flailing, painted a clear enough mental image. When Gaz eventually stood, and I saw that the truth was much closer to the remains of Jim than I had imagined, an irrepressible wave of nausea rose up in my gut.

Christ, Keith. Don't get it on my boots. Gaz was scratched over me, his fat palm hammering my back in an effort to help me clear the last of my vomit. I was about to respond to make some half-terrified whyscracker by the message made with our former captain when a noise made us both yell and look into the deep red shadows above. There was a loud metallic thunk accompanied by the squeak of unoiled wheels and the clink-clank of rusted iron. The chain in the ranc of rusted iron.

rail was moving. "'Gaz?' I stammered, pulling myself to my feet and staring at the hatch above the door, marked, nursery, strictly no entry. "'Gas, mate, we need to go.' When the lobby was suddenly illuminated by a bright light from the space beyond the metal hatch, Gaz started vigorously nodding in furtive agreement. For some reason, though, our feet didn't get the message. of us remain rooted to the spot, each waiting for the other to grab us by the shoulder

and yank us into a full pelt sprint away from those parting steel hatch doors. Before either of us had the chance to muster up the needed courage, however, the rail mechanism above lurched his cargo forward with a screeching jolt. The hatch burst open. I screamed. Gaz started crying. The steel hatch door swung closed with a deafening clang, plunging the room back into near darkness from my last flare. Something was dangling directly above us, hanging from the conveyor chain by a hook, piercing the large fin at the end of its thick, vainy tail.

It looked almost like a warus or manatee, if somebody had decided to turn a warrus or manate's skin inside out and stretch his neck about four feet. Another notable difference was the excess amount of lung bony fins jutting from its bulwis stomach. It had thrice as many as any known species of marine mammal. The spidery flibbers wriggled and twitch excitedly as the scent of the dead men's blood reached the three flown nostrils on its back.

At first, I thought it must have been looking my way because I couldn't see his face in the almost unpermeated red darkness. When the tip of the fleshy tube that was his neck started to peel back, I realized to my unending horror that I was mistaken. The thick trunk of his neck jotted and spasened, the loose folds of glistening skin on its surface, retracting to reveal a long yellow snout. By the time the wrinkled hood was stripped back, I realized the slowly spinning thing never had a neck to begin with. The quivering neck was actually an elongated head submerged beneath the vault of skin.

Well, I thought he was elongated. Once the vertical slits along its jaundice surface started peeling open however, I knew I was mistaken. It was flat. I was still screaming and wishing for the kickstart from Gaz that would never come when the flesh petals began to unfurl. For the 30 or so seconds it took for the starfish-sized limbs to prize themselves apart. Our screams were undercut by nauseating slurps and squelches,

which perfectly matched the viscous mucus dripping from its new, exposed flesh. Our screams only got louder once the face of this monstrosity could be seen in its full glory. Each of the seven trembling face segments had three eyes running along its length. These eyes were round, bright, dancing independently of each other, and they sized up this unexpected meal. They were also distinctly human. They alone weren't what made my legs turned so numb I fell on my ass though. No. It was the mouths. It had three of them, arranged on a triangle and a flat tongue-like pad at the epicenter of the writhing 21-eyed gaze.

The space between the moors was occupied by an unfamiliar office that oozed a pus-colored substance. This discharge caused hissing and steam to rise from the floor tiles by Gaz's feet where it pulled. These mouths, also human and full of molars, knocked all hope of survival from my mind. I wept uncontrollably, shaking in the warm puddle of the other men's blood and my own urine where I lay. It wasn't the look of the mouths that broke me, despite the fact they were utterly horrifying in ways in a way that test my nerve to ruminate on too long. It's the fact. They were talking to one another. What's this?

What's this? What's this? What is it the iceberg us? It is filthy smalls, is it? It. Aye. I see filthy smalls. Yes, yes, yes.

They want to play they does. Yes, yes. They conversed in sings on voices devoid of any dialect I recognized. What I did recognize, the thing that horrified me so much about those understandable, yet unintelligible yet unintelligible words, was that the voices that uttered them belonged to human children. Gas was still standing. I think that's what saved my life. That's why it went for him first.

it went for him first, giving me the few seconds I needed to run screaming into the dark corridor away from this living nightmare. Before either of us could move, the air was cut through by a noxious odour. The stench curled the hair in my nostrils and sent my gag reflex into violent spasms. Working on a cod trawler, I thought I smelled the worst shades of rotten ocean flesh the sea could send. I realized in an instant that I knew nothing of the stomach-empting horrors she could spew forth, and she was now punishing me for my overconfidence. The punishment her titan judge metered out of gas was much, much harsher. Neither of us had any time to react to the smell beyond starting to gag. The orifice between the mouths had puckered, the aggrate acidic

pus leaking from it, now cascading from the pursed hole. I just about noticed the change. when he convulsed, opening to spray for the thick yellowish web of flam over Gaz. He started screeching the moment the posse-colored snot touched his skin. I could see why. As soon as contact was made, his flesh started bubbling, melting away to reveal veins, muscles, and eventually bone. The jabbering thing above had landed a direct hit. Gaz just about had time to run in my direction.

I'm outstretched, his remaining eye wide and wide. full of tears, when the chore he wanted to use to cry for help fell onto the floor. We both watched it for a moment, but seemed an eternity long. Me, with my unrestrained panic and mouthful of bile, gas, with his exposed throat and flopping, jawless tongue. By the time I'd fired my way to my feet, his arm had gone too. By the time I'd started running down the unlit corridor, his corroded body had collapsed under its own weight, the remaining eye still darting wildly in a few seconds. before the last part of his head dissolved

into foul-smelling organic sludge. I shouldn't have looked over my shoulder. That mental image and its implications will scar me for whatever does remain of my life. I also shouldn't have dropped the flare. If I hadn't been running through the corridor in pitch darkness, the scientists with the night vision goggles

would never have been able to tackle me and drive that syringe into my neck. I've been in the cell ever since I woke up. I don't know what happened to my clothes. They've been watching me since then, too. The scientists, I mean. They've been poking and prodding me with needles for weeks, treating me like a damp incursion

while they injects syrims and take samples. I'm in no condition to fight them. Some of the syringes contain a sedative that keeps me drowsy. They must do, because they always seem especially keen to stick on in me when I get a bit, as one of them put it,

restless and screaming. It was the one with a kind face who said that. The lady one. Can't be older than Jim. I think she's some kind of intern. It's her that brings my admittedly not too bad meals, which are always steak, eggs and beans. She's also the one who brought me the crayons and paper I'm writing this on.

She wouldn't let me have a pen. Too pointy, she said. When she brings my next meal, I'm going to beg her to take this. Plead with her to put it out there somewhere. so my family knows what happened. I know Hannah left me for Jack, but I still wanted to know. Little Ian deserves to know what happened to his dad.

Even if she doesn't get my message out there immediately, I hope the kind-faced scientist takes my advice and stores this away instead of throwing it out, just in case she ever had a change of heart about... Whatever the hell they're doing to me. I'm going to have to stop writing soon. I'm tired, my neck aches, and I've got these cysts to my sides. that I've been there for a few days now.

I'm sure it's just the meat diet, but I've been getting big, like gas big. I'm hoping it's nothing to worry about, though. I've got other problems than my health, like getting the hell out of here. Oh, and before I go, I did ask the kind-faced scientist about the water slide.

She just smiled at me and said, Oh yeah, I see what that must have seemed weird. You'll find out soon enough, Keith. But during the lival stages, you can get a bit, um, childlike. We find taking the newer converts up top and letting them go for a swim and use the slide, helps them burn off a bit of excess energy. She leaned in closer after she said this. Her face locked in an effort to offer genuine reassurance.

Don't worry, Keith. I know the nursery seems scary, but I'll make sure the others give you a turn on the slide.