CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "We found a half submerged animatronic dumped in a local pond" Creepypasta

Episode Date: August 2, 2020

We found a half-submerged animatronic, dumped in a local pond. My friend thinks it’s alive.CREEPYPASTA STORY►by Darkly_Gathers@ 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►by Joshua Culp: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/J9...SUGGESTED 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-

From world-wide top-merken to entrepreneurs that net begin, million-verts trust on Shopify, Vercoop online, in your winkel, on Instagram, TikTok, and more. Allers from out one platform. Beheer your products, bestellings and betalings

and let me find out of your way. Start today not your gratis-proof-periodes on Shopify.b. That is Shopify. combe. case to be honest, but he's convinced, absolutely convinced that the thing we found in the water is, in some way, living. He's leading us back there now, through the fields and the drizzle, kicking up mud and spouting off all sorts of nonsense, constantly looking back at us as he

eagerly leads the way. The animatronic in question is a green, half-crocodile, half-dragon-looking leviathan, mostly submerged in a pond in the middle of nowhere, not too far from even. England's border with whales. We live in an empty rural village, so there's not much to do here besides drink and wander around the countryside. We found this particular pond on one such boo's hike excursion. It's kind of nice, surrounded by willow trees and nestled amongst a series of low hills. At least it would be, if it weren't for the ugly,

peeling, man-made abomination dumped unceremoniously in the middle. It's actually pretty creepy. The animatronic is just so wildly out of place. It's not like there are any amusement parks or anything nearby. How the hell did he get there? And it's massive too, bigger than me at least, easily. There's a name for this feeling I discovered. The feeling of an ease.

It's called submechanophobia. We're about around the base of the hill that leads to the pond when Stubbs halts and puts out his hand forcing us to a sudden stop. I slip a little in the mud. That's his name by the way, the lunatic, Stubbs.

It's not his real name, it's just what we call him on account of his busted hand. He's missing the top half of the ring finger on his left, stabbed it clean off with a knife during a drinking game gone wrong. As I said,

he's a lunatic. We're out here with his sister, Roxy, and altogether more sensible individual, and our mates Waka and John. Waka was so named because of his surname, Wakefield, and John was so named because of his forename, John. You have to touch the rocks, Stubbs urged us, brushing his messy, wet fringe from his forehead. What doesn't work otherwise? Roxy asked him, sighing.

She's cute. I'd ask her out if, A, I had to. and balls, and B, I wasn't terrified of how stubs would react. Don't get me wrong, I love the guy, but I'd probably find him in my room in the middle of the night or under my bed or something. Trust me, he says, placing his hand on the rock for a moment before watching us to ensure we do the same. It's a normal looking rock, slightly mossy, damp, pretty big, I guess.

There's a chunk of what could be copper or bronze maybe. stuck in the side of it. This is moronic, stubs, I tell him. But the guy crosses his arms and looks back at me silently. I grumble and relent, and we all lean down slightly so we can wipe our hands against the rock surface before he allows us to continue.

Do you reckon this is a prank of some kind? Wacker murmurs to me as we amble through the mud and the damp grass towards the pond. I don't know, mate. I've never seen him like that. like this. I reply. No, Waka says back. No, me neither. We pushed through the bushes and the pond once again reveals itself to us. I've only been here like twice before, but I know that Stubbs has been here a whole bunch of times. He's obsessed with the thing, the animatronic I mean.

Not that there's anything particularly animated about it anymore. The only movement in the water comes from the little concentric circles dashed and splashed and splashed here and there by the encroaching drizzle. The actual machine lays, as I always presume, dead and still. A shiver of discomfort ripples through me as I come to a stop by the bank of the pond. It's just so hideous. It doesn't belong.

Fibre glass amber eyes stare back at me from the head of mossy, decaying grey-green... plastic? I don't know what these things are. are made of. The head and body of the monster rises about a meter up from the water's surface and a part of its body is visible just below, but it disappears quickly into the murk, and there's no way of knowing the machine's true size, or how deep down the pond even goes. I hate that thing, says Roxy, chewing her tongue as she comes to a stop. It's awful, everything

about it. I don't know, says John, running a hand. over his lower jaw. He's a relatively big lad. Got a bit of muscle on him. It looks kind of lonely to me. Lonely? I reply, loudly, turning to him. It's not lonely.

It's not anything. It's an old abandoned bit of machinery. I glance over to Stubbs. Go on then, mate. It's raining. Get this over with. Stubbs claps his hands together and rubs them, grinning.

He pulls off his hands together. his backpack and starts rifling through it, then balls out a cluster of small rocks and dumps them into the mud. Wacker murmurs, you've been carrying a load of rocks around in your bag? But Stubbs does not reply. He picks up a handful from the pile and stands turning to face the pond. He steps a little further into the reeds and throws the first rock hard over the water to the animatronic. He misses and breaks the surface of the pond with a splash. What are you doing, Eddie? Roxy murmurs.

That's Stubbs real name, by the way. Not that it matters. Stubbs refuses once again to reply, instead thrown a second. This one hits and bounces off the creature's head with an unsettling clank before tumbling into the water. Stubbs, I begin. This isn't... He cuts me off with a shuddle. shush, holding up a hand and cocking his head to listen.

We do the same. Nothing. Nothing but for the soft drizzle against the pond. He picks up another rock and throws again, a little harder, and it hits a smaller spot on the monster's head. And this time, it starts to hiss. Its weathered plastic jaws remain fixed in a snarl, teeth bared, and whilst it doesn't It doesn't move, of course. It does begin to make an alien rattling sound. It sets me on edge. A chill runs through me.

I hate it. Stubbs turns to us proudly, holding out his hands in an I-to-you-so kind of motion. We exchange looks. Is that it? asks Wacker. That noise? That doesn't prove it's alive, Stubbs. No, that's not it, you ginger dick. Stubbs replies, laughing. I've woken it up. It's breathing now.

What do you mean breathing, Eddie? Roxy sighs. Can you get to the point already? I actually had stuff I wanted to do this evening. Pff, that's a lie, Stubbs replies. And just look, look at the water around it. We do so, and after a few seconds, a small stream of bubbles rises up from below and pops at the surface. It happens at regular intervals and stubs dramatically breathes in and out himself to demonstrate the rhythm.

All right, John says, cracking his knuckles. That's pretty cool. I like that. It's creepy as hell, says Roxy. I don't like it at all. It looks kind of dangerous, to be honest. Wack amuses. Shouldn't we call someone and tell them about this? Who?

asked Stubbs. He looks a little disappointed at the lack of enthusiasm in the group's response. Wacker shrugs. I don't know. Maybe like the local council or... Ooh, the local council. The local council? Stubbs mimics, waving his hands around.

Screw the council. This is the discovery of the century. How is it making bubbles? How is it making noise? It's clearly not connected to anything. It's just been dumped here in the bloody pond. How is it still alive? I wish you wouldn't refer to it as alive, Stubbs, I say.

Rocks is right. It's creepy as hell. Stubbs, Smarks. You're just a chicken, Ollie. You're both chickens. Chick-chick-chick-chick-chick-chick-chick. He starts clucking and walking around in a circle, bobbing his head. Get lost, I reply. I always allow myself to get wound up too easily.

It's a floor, I know. who needs work. He clucks louder. Well, if you're so brave Stubbs, why don't you go in there and take a closer look? I reply, gesturing to the pond, solve the mystery yourself. Stubbs stops.

You know, he says, it's funny you should say that. He grins again and crouches down to his bag, pulling out a pair of goggles, and what looked like a waterproof torch. The group groans and collected. dismay, and we voice our protest to what we know will be his imminent suggestion. No, I say, come on stubs, I wasn't serious. Don't actually go in there, mate.

It's probably dangerous, you idiot, Roxy says, walking over to him, reaching for his arm, but he shrugs her off. You guys may be too scared to seek the truth, but I'm a pioneer. He declares, fastening the goggles around his head and clicking on the torch. The backpack falls over, and I get a good look inside. There's a rope, a camera, carabiners. What the hell does he have planned here exactly? Stubbs, we shouted him, exasperated. But he pushes away before we can stop him.

He has dived into the pond. He turns on his back and holds out his hands, kicking his legs and laughing. Idiot. I'm going to see how deep down it goes. he calls, ignoring our protests, then turns and swims a little closer to the animatronic. The terrible, snarling, grey-green creature, half-dragon, half-crocodile,

hissing in the water where it doesn't belong in a grim and rain-clouded sky. Eddie! Roxy shouted him. She's angry. Come back! Don't get too close to it! But, he ignores her, swimming right up to his side

and hitting it with his foot. fists. It makes a dull, clanging sort of sound. Wakey, wakey monster! He shouts up at it, treading water. Time to see what you're made of. And the animatronic responds with a groan. A groan that sent us all into a sudden and petrified silence. And an emotion that shatters completely,

any understanding I may have had about the abomination before me. It moves I swear it It moves Its jaw distends And a water-logged, faded Crackling roar Is forced from within its unknown machinery

It turns joltingly And bubbles rise up from around it Thick and fast And stubs panics Oh crap! He shouts Spluttering suddenly on the pond water choking as he tries to swim back

But he's too late something metal beside him breaches the water for a quick second too quick for me to see what it is but it is large and with a scream stubs is suddenly dragged below the surface we're shouting now screaming at him

bubbles rise up from all around as the rain starts to fall heavier and the fibreglass leviathan dips sinking down with him into the dark murk of the pond. And there's nothing we can do, but watch. Oh God! Roxy screams.

Her hands and a hair as the animatronic sinks beneath a murky water. Eddie! Eddie! And I'm just stood there, staring, dumbfounded,

still kind of processing the scene before me. The impossible animatronic monster reawakened. How? How was that possible? And Stubbs? Stubbs is being dragged deeper and deeper into the pond with every passing second right now.

The top of the crocodile dragon's grey-green head sinks below the surface. And I realise that this is one of those defining key moments. This is a moment I will look back on thousands of times over the course of my life. How many times exactly will I bitterly visit this precise moment of my past, watching powerlessly through the one-way glass, of my memories. I have one shot, one shot to act, and it has to be now. Roxy! I shout. Call 909, get an ambulance, get an air ambulance, a helicopter, whatever, get it done. I jumped down into the mud, rooting desperately through Stubbs' upturned bag. There are no

new pairs of goggles, but there is a rope. It's thin, a piece of camping equipment, maybe Maybe he was planning on trying to attach it to the animatronic. Doesn't matter now. I grab it and hastily, in shaking hands, begin tying it around my waist. Am I really going to do this? This is insane. John, Wacker, grab the end, okay? Hold tight.

If it feels like I'm pulled away, then you guys pull it back, alright? As hard as you can. John nods just once, his eyes wide, but Wacker tries to convince me other. He stumbles over his words, and I ignore them anyway, tearing off my shoes. I lift my head and rise, stumbling through the mud and the reeds, and, before I could sight myself out any further, I jump, diving into the pond, pumping my arms and powering towards the spot that stubs was dragged under.

The hammering of my heart becomes one with a drum of the rain under the water by my ears. I take in a deep breath Then another And I flip Diving down into the dark The calls of my friends And the sounds of the rain Become instantly muffled

As I push my arms And kick my legs To propel myself down Under the water I'm squinting Eyes open Trying not to think about The undoubtedly

Copious amounts of ponds Come in here with me I can't see much But I think I can see The top of the animatronics head I can see gears The thought of being caught up in one and being ground to shreds

beneath the surface of this grim pond flashes alarmingly at the forefront of my mind and it is only the hope that I can save Stubbs from a similar fate that is keeping me from aborting this madness at once But Stubbs is alive I know because I can see the dulled but still just visible beam of his torch

through the murk It wavers madly from side to side temporarily lighting up pieces of machinery, cables, and to my horror, the face of the fibreglass leviathan, though its head, its head doesn't seem to be at the angle it was it before, and now it's staring straight at me, amber eyes aglow. Stubbs! I screamed fallishly through the water, bubbles rising and lungs emptying, and I can no longer keep pace. The animatronic seems to sink with a newfound sudden speed

And the light of Stubbs' torch is lost Disappearing into the gloom I choke and writhe pulling on the rope My vision flashing as I find myself hauled back up towards the surface A surface which I break and breathe With a loud and welcome intake of damp pond air Thrashing as my friends drag me back up to the bank Eddie

Roxy screams as I'm pulled ashore retching up into the grass. Wacker and John untie my rope. I failed. I couldn't save him. John can't stop swearing to himself. I can barely think straight, but Waka speaks up, loud, pointing to the pond.

Guys, guys, look, look at the water. Still coughing, I crawl around in the mud to face the pond. And we watch. We watch in disbelief as a The great gurgling sounds from below, and the water begins to spin. Slow at first, but round and round it goes, getting faster and faster, and it becomes apparent that it is draining. The water level is dropping, accelerating as it does so, the muddy banks becoming visible

as it drops further still. Down and down it goes. to the edge now, I look over and below, and still the water gurgles. Two metres down, three meters, four meters. The pond is becoming a great, slippery pit. The water recedes, and a tunnel becomes visible. No, not a tunnel. A pipe. A large pipe. More than big enough for a human, at least, sticking out slightly from the muddy wall of the pond. The water gurgles a final time, and the swirling begins to slow. The surface of the pond now easily five metres below ground level

and stilling just beneath the bottom of the entrance to the pipe. A broken gear is visible in the water. It sticks out at an angle, only half submerged, suggesting that the remaining water is not particularly deep. What the hell? I mutter, spitting out a mouthful of pond debris. Stubbs is nowhere to. be seen, and neither is the animatronic. They have vanished. Eddie? Roxy shouts down desperately.

Eddie! Holy crap, Waka says, shaking his head. This isn't possible. This can't be happening. John grabs a fallen branch from beneath a nearby willow and jogs back over, throwing the branch down into the pit. It strikes the gear and lands in the water. coming to rest with half of it still sticking out above the surface, confirming its shallowness. For a moment, we all just stare down into the pit, in silence. Then I hear the sound of gentle, murmuring voices. I realize it's coming from Roxy's phone, still in her hand. Roxy, I say, quietly.

Did you call for help? She nods, but does not verbally respond. instead raising the phone to her ear. We wait for a minute in silence. Yeah, she replies eventually to the group. Yeah, I call them and they're telling me that they're here. They're here right now. I turn around and look.

We all do. The countryside is quiet. There is only the sound of the rain. No police, no air ambulance, no helicopters or sirens. Nothing. Can you see the pond? Roxy asks into the phone. I hear them reply in the affirmative through the speaker.

And it's... It's full? Roxy asks softly. There is a pause. Then more speech comes to the phone. And unoccupied. More speech. Roxy is shaking.

I look around again. There is nobody here. It's just us. My brother, he's fallen in. I think you might be trapped under water, Roxy says eventually. Please get him out as soon as you can. The voice to the phone continues,

but Roxy hangs up, staring defeatedly down into the pit. They're not seeing what we're seeing, she murmurs, to no one in particular. they don't even see the animatronic. We sit with her, listening to the rain, trying to comprehend, and failing. That's...

That's not possible, I mutter. No, she replies. It isn't. So, where are they? John asks after a moment. Stubbs and the animatronic, where have they gone? I look over at the faces of the green. group, deathly pale, shell-shocked, and Roxy's expression hardens into a grimace.

I think that's pretty obvious, she replies, suddenly standing. We watch her as she pulls up the sleeves of her hoodie, formerly burgundy in colour, but quickly darkening to a deep wine red in the rain. She bends down to pick up the wet rope and grabs a collection of carabinas from Stubbs' bag, heading round the edge of the pond turned pit to one of the willow trees she stops by her trunk and calls over to me Olly you know nuts right

I reply that I do then come and tie this to the tree for me and at once I realise what she means to do I understand and I also decide pretty much instantly that I'll be going with her Stubbs may have packed himself

this little bag and brought along his goggles, but I'm the one who told him to go for a swim. Maybe this could have been avoided. I rise and wipe down my jeans, heading round to help her tie the rope to the tree as she clumsily fastens a loop through a belt. Thank you, by the way, she whispers to me. I turn to look at her. For trying, I mean, she says, awkwardly. She gives me a sad, scared sort of smile.

and I return it. Guys, I hear Wocker call out from his position at the edge of the pond, fear in his voice. Don't tell me you're going to do what I think you're going to do. What choice do we have, mate? I replied to him as I tie up the rope, glancing beneath and behind to the ominous pipe down below. We need to try. This is crazy, Waka shouts. I'm not going down there.

Am I the only same person here? John, you're not thinking of climbing down into this pit, are you? John grinds his teeth a little and shrugs. Our friends in trouble. Stuff's not making sense, and seems we're the only ones who can help. It's a no-brainer to me, fella. Waka runs her hand through his wet red hair. Guys, at least let's stop to think about this.

Waka! Roxy interrupts, staring at him. We can argue. about the supernatural semantics nonsense till the sun sets. But I just saw, with my own eyes, my brother, get dragged down into this pond. The pond is now empty, and a lone tunnel into the dark is the only plausible explanation for where he's gone. I'm going after him. Come if you want, or go home.

Waka shakes his head, swearing, but he relents. I'm coming, he mutters. Obviously I'm going to come too. He looks around. with a dim hope, a last search for any sign of a helicopter or a rescue team or someone of authority to maybe tell him what to do. But there is no one, no one but us. And so he gets in line, awaiting his turn before nervously clambering onto the rope, half walking, half sliding down the slope of the wet pit,

slipping, swearing, splashing into the water at his base alongside the rest of us. I kick up against something hard but loose and I reach down under the water to pick it up Stubbs his torch I smack it a few times and it sputters back to life and I left my hand Shining the beam down into the tunnel We turn as one to look inside

Damp Dark cold We cannot see the end The light catches on something small near the tunnel's end The light catches on something small near the tunnel's end I grunt and with help from John hoist myself up into it, taking a few echoing steps and reaching down for the item, picking it up for a closer look. It's a frog, an imitation one, made from some kind of silicon.

The paintwork is chipped and faded, parts have peeled back to reveal metal and webs of elastic rubber netting beneath. The frog's mouth is open, and a device that looks like it was built as squirt passes by is visible just inside. A spring-loaded lever of some kind is connected to the underside of the little frog, and one would guess that it once popped up from out of a fountain,

or a water feature. But the lever is beyond rusted now, long broken. And there's something else there too. A torn, ripped piece of thin card. It looks like a ticket stop of some sort. I pluck it from the silence mechanisms the broken frog

and show it to the others. Roxy takes it for a closer look and turns deathly white. Come on, she whispers, pocketing it as she clambes up into the tunnel and pushes onwards into the dark. Let's do this. From world-wide topmerker

to entrepreneurs who net begin, millioner-trouderrower on Shopify, vercoop online, in your winkel, on Instagram, TikTok and more. All of one platform. Behear your products, bestelling and bettaling, and bettaling and safe and

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Our wet steps echoing all around the damp curved walls of the pipe, or tunnel, and guided by the flickering light of Stubbs' torch. I'm trying to keep it steady, but to be honest, if I'm called out on it, I could probably pass off my shaking as a reaction to the cold.

My shirt is still soaked through beneath my hoodie. I'm hoping my body heats will dry it off at least a little. I hear her small noise from Roxy, and I hear her wipe her face from the corner of my eye, though I pretend not to notice. I feel for her. Stubbs is pretty much all the family she has. Her dad died when they were both. really young and I'm not sure how involved their mum is in their lives exactly.

She never seems to be at home. I think Roxy relies on stubs more than she lets on. We'll find him, girl. I don't know what's going on here exactly and I'm scared as hell, but we'll find him. On we walk through the dark tunnel. Our feet kick up against the occasional small gears and parts of damp machinery lay strewn about.

out. Parts of the pipe-hole looks like something sharp, or at least of substantial density, has been dragged against it. Long streaks and scratches. Waka keeps glancing nervously behind us as the entrance to the tunnel becomes smaller and smaller in the distance. I don't blame him. If this bad boy looks like it's going to start filling up with water, then I won't be sticking around, I can tell you now. But thankfully, it does not. Not yet at least. Where do you think it leads? John asks quietly.

He's a soft-spoken guy, despite his frame, and the whisper in his voice echoes around us like a hiss. No idea, mate, I reply through gritted teeth. No idea at all, but I ask you this. If the animatronic did drag stubs down here, which we're assuming it did, how the hell did it get so far? It's not like there's a red.

or any kind of cables or anything down here. How exactly did it move? No one replies. After all, what is there to say? But we keep going, splashing through the murky water around our shoes. We keep going until up ahead, the great pipe splits off into three,

each tunnel disappearing into the gloom. Well, damn, I mutter, coming to a stop and shining the beam from the first to the second to the third. What the hell are we going to do now? Because we're not splitting up. Absolutely no way. Waka steps forward.

Looks each tunnel over and rings his hands. I guess we should try the first tunnel then, he says. Scope it out a bit, then the second and third. And if we still don't find him, then I guess we have to come back another. That won't be necessary, says Roxy, looking ahead. It's the third. tunnel on the right. She makes

the set off, but I grab her arm and hold her back. We all stare at her. What do you mean is the tunnel on the right? Roxy, how did you know that? I ask. Because I've been here before, she whispers. I don't know

what to say. What the hell? Rocker splutters. How have you been here before? Not in person, but... But I've had dreams. I've dreamt of this place. These tunnels.

Roxy replies quietly. The other two just go round in a loop, I think. So you... You recognise this place then, I ask, flabbergasted. Why didn't you say anything? I didn't want to. In case I was wrong. I didn't want you to think I was crazy.

Oh, well, you certainly don't sound crazy now. I reply, loudly throwing up my hands. Anything else happen in the dream rocks? John asks her, do you know what's up ahead? I'm not sure, she says hesitantly. My memories are hazy. They came back to me suddenly when we looked into the tunnel. I recall the little piece of card I found attached to the broken frog,

the ripped ticket stub. Hey, Roxy, I interrupted. let me see that piece of card again. She pauses. Why? Just let me see it rocks. I reply, angrier now. And she relents, drawing it out of the pocket and showing it to me.

I take it and shine the light at it for a closer inspection. It does look like a piece of a ticket. And though it's torn, some text is still legible across its surface. There are some numbers Which could mean anything But near the top The following can be read Re Larson

In Park Re Lorson I read aloud Eyes flashing Heart hammering Showing the others Lawson That's your surname

Rox Roxy Lawson And what was your dad's name His first name I mean Harry She replies quietly. The others start muttering. They stare at her with confusion, anger, fear.

All right, Roxy, what the hell is going on here? I shout, what the hell is this? And I'm suddenly stricken with a cold and piercing terror. Is this a trick? A trap? Did Roxy bring us down here to get us trapped? Or killed? He stubs in on it.

too? Thousands of possibilities, each more outlandish and implausible than the swirl around my head, and perhaps Roxy can read it on my face, because she grabs my shoulders and tries to calm me down. Ollie, Ollie, she says,

and she looks at each one of us, tries to settle on us. I don't know what's going on here, okay? I swear it, I swear to you guys, I have no idea what's going on, and I'm just as scared as you. I just want my brother back, I don't know why my dad's name, or part of it, is on that piece of card. I don't know what happened to Eddie.

And aside from broken fragments of a dream, I don't know what's going on here. I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. Her voice breaks and she trembles, and I find myself believing her. I have to believe her. This is Roxy after all. Roxy. I know Roxy.

I look to the others. Waka raises an eyebrow and John chooses tongue But they both believe her too I can see it So we take some deep breaths We squeeze her around the shoulders And we dutively carry on along our way

God help us We come upon a sudden turn in the tunnel An impending right angle almost And Roxy puts out her hand Staring into space We stop I think She begins hesitantly.

I think there's a lake around here. Don't freak out, but I remember water. Lots and lots of dark, dark water. She finishes lamely, but it's enough to send a ripple of goosebumps up my back.

Oh no, no, no. Waka stammers. But credit to the guy, he's doing his best. He's only giving voice to what we're all thinking. It's okay, mate, we can do this, John says to him, patting him on the back.

Swallowing, and as the one with the torch, I step forward and we round the corner together. And sure enough, the pipe ends. We stand on its edge. It opens into a cavern. The ceiling is made of dripping

wet rock and it's not much higher than the pipe, but it is wider, much much wider. There is what looks like graffiti scrawled on the rock walls, but it's too small and too far away to make out what it says.

The torch was not designed to be used on surfaces so far away and below us is a rotting wooden platform, gently drifting, floating on the surface of a black, reflective underground lake. Christ, I mutter,

scanning my eyes across it. The water is creepy, be, no doubt about it, but is the gently rising burst of bubbles that give me course for real fear. Coming up to the surface in little clusters with the same rhythm that stubs are demonstrated by the pond, like breathing, in and out. And there is not just one group of bubbles down here. There are dozens and dozens scattered all around the surface of the lake. I raised the torch.

It's hard to tell, but if I squint, I think I can just about see the other side. A grey and rocky bank. John nudges a gear over the edge of the pipe's rim with his foot. It bounces off the side of the wooden platform and hits the black water with a thunk, quickly sinking, disappearing down into the depths. You don't have to come with me, guys, Roxy says softly. I wouldn't blame you. I sure as hell don't want to do this, but he's my brother. I have to, and I know that he's still alive.

I can't explain it, but... But I can feel it, and this is the way. She shifts and clenches her fingers. It has to be, she whispers. I look to the others, and they're frightened. It's obvious. But it's also obvious that we're all on the same page. We're in this together.

And we're not turning back. Stubbs needs our help, and if Roxy thinks he's on the other side of this lake, then who the hell are we to say otherwise? So, one by one, we clamber unsteadily down, down onto the wooden platform. It's big enough for both of us, plenty of surface area, but I'm more concerned about whether it's going to hold our weight. John gets on first and then shifts himself around, using himself. himself to keep the thing roughly balanced as we step aboard, deciding that sitting down

cross-legged is probably the best system. Roxy, the last aboard, settles herself into place, and then, with a sudden, loud crack that shatters the tension, John pulls up one of the splintry wooden boards, and we all start an alarm. What the hell, John? Roxy stammeres, a hand on a chest, and we stare at him incredulously. He shrugs. We needed something to paddle with,

he replies simply, then presses the plank against the edge of the pipe, and, with a crunch of exertion, pushes as hard as he can. The platform is sent off drifting in the opposite direction, out and over the surface of the dark lake, slowly but steadily towards the other side. We watch the reflective surface of the lake

ripples softly behind us, and as the platform starts to lose momentum, John begins carefully pushing the plank in and out of the water, paddling gently. Stay calm, Ollie, I tell myself, don't freak out, not here, not here. I glance around nervously, scanning the beam of the torch through the dark. The streams of bubbles surround us now.

I watch with discomfort as we slowly drift towards a particularly large cluster. and then right over the top of it. I can hear Wocker's breathing getting louder, faster. It's all right, mate, I mutter. Feeling is rising panic in myself, but doing my best to suppress it. We've got this, okay? We've got this. I look down through my legs, between the wooden planks,

and into the black water beneath. The bubbles stream up noisely, directly underneath me, and I shiver. The bubbles are the only regular sound. A soft, gentle, rhythmic gurgling. They are accompanied by the occasional drip from above, the sound of the wooden paddle eased carefully into the water, and the echoy whispering, intermittent mutterings of our group.

I wonder, against my sense of better judgment, how deep down the water goes. I consider, against my better judgment, what horrors may lie in the depths beneath, and I look, against my better judgment, once again down into the black water to my right, and right now, below the surface,

only just visible in the darkness, I receive an answer. A gasp of terror escapes my lungs as I stare down into the deep, and one monstrous, cold, dead-eyed, Stairs back. From worldwide topmerken to entrepreneurs who just begin,

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That is Shopify. I shout out in alarm. My muscles contract and as my body weight suddenly shifts, the wooden platform begins to rock dangerously on the surface of the Black Lake. I look down into the water and the enormous eye stares back from beneath. John slips and in an attempt to rebalance himself, he slams the hand with the plank in it down into the water. There is a clank and a thud as it connects with something below the surface. something below the surface. A groan follows, and the cave

suddenly comes alive with the sound of hydraulics. The bubbles begin to stream up faster and thicker all around. Rinding, thrumming, underwater gears and machinery becomes audible, and the owner of the great eye jolted up awkwardly, rising up from the depths. Ollie!

Roxy cries out. What have he done? Me? I shout back. Ask John! The eye blouse. It belongs to an enormous, peeling, silicon shark. It clanks above the surface and a distorted, electronic noise, a noise which might once have been a roar, echoes from within it.

Its teeth, faded yet sharp, are fixed in a permanent leer, and steam is pumped from its nostrils before it starts to sink back below the water. It's monstrous. Just eerie enough to send an eerie, ripple of terrible, deep discomfort comfort down to my core, yet real enough that one could imagine it opening its jaws, lunging out to take a sudden bite off the platform. All around us now, more of these terrible animatronics are beginning to rise up from beneath, appearing at first as only dark, shimmering blurs below the surface, then quickly revealing

semi-recognizable forms as they push themselves up and into the cold, damp cavern air. Another burst of bubbles from beneath me gives me cause to look down between my life. legs and through the planks of the platform and the ripple of the bubbles a dark shape begins the form in the water below the unseen hydraulics hiss all around us John I shout paddle we need to move now which way he asks anyway just paddle quick he grunts and drags the plank through the water as quickly and forcefully as he can, and what looks like the terrible face of a... A reptile?

A dinosaur? Something hungry and prehistoric forms in the darkness and pushes up to meet us, catching on the edge of the platform. It creaks alarmingly and tips as the animatronic knocks us to the side. Roxy calls out, her arms flailing, and I shift my weight, reaching out to grab her by the front of her hoodie to hold her in place before we crack back down into the water rocking. The reptile continues its rise.

Part of its silican jaw has broken away, and I see the metallic gears turning wearingly as it clenches its mouth tight shut, teeth closing around a piece of imagined prey before it gurgles and retreats back down into the depths. The faces of Roxy and Waka are fixed in terror, deathly white, and I imagine I must look much the same. clenches his jaw in grim determination, staring us around the mechanical monsters as best as he can, his focus fixed on the bank at the other side. A long, large, silicate fish snakes through the water beneath and beside us. I wonder if it's attached to an unseen rail of some kind.

It rises closer to the surface and connects with the platform. Weir pushed the side again, dangerously. A piece of rotted wood at the edge splinters off. And, for a frantic second or two, I think Waka is going to be tipped over the edge. The outcome plays through my mind. Gone before we can grab him, hitting the water with a splash, his arms and legs kicking up against the churning unknown machinery as he panics, struggling blind and dragged deep into the unknown at the mercy of the gurgling monsters in the dark.

My breath catches in my throat, but with cutural relief, my premonition does not come true. Waka regains his balance and he keeps a hold of his place on the platform. We're close now. We're close to the other side. I look back. The animatronics keep rising and rolling

rhythmically on their secret pistons. The bubble stream. Steam is blasted. And in the centre. The very centre of the cavern's dark lake. One machine rises taller than the rest. Slowly. up, up it goes, only gaining in height.

A plastic silicon, half-man, half-sea monster. His deep green and aged with a torso melts into the body of a scaled snake, one that continues down under the black water. It is facing away from us, but as it rises, I get the cold, lurching, curiously salient sensation that under no circumstances should I lock upon its face. It's a sense of knowing that I can only compare to experiences

I've had in nightmares When you know that something You'll never be able to forget Something you'll never be able to unsee Lies just around the corner But you're not exactly sure Why or what The reptile man clanks into place

And it slowly begins to rotate Rotating towards us I tear my eyes away And we bump against the rock of the bank Go, go, go! I shout, urging them off the platform and they clamper up onto the shore of the cave. Roxy first, then Waka and then myself.

John climbs up last and tracks the platform up onto the land behind him. I risk a glance up over the lake. The reptile man is still turning, slowly turning towards us. Run, I urged the group. And they do. Into the tunnel of the cave.

round corner after corner until we can run no more, and we collapse in a heap, catching our breaths as we slump up against the damp and rocky walls. Damn, Roxy whispers through rasping breaths, and that pretty much covers all our current thought processes, I should think. This is insane, whack-a-murmurs, absolutely insane. There's no other word for it. We've stumbled upon some serious, otherworldly mess down here. You can say that is. Again, I mutter in agreement. Good effort on the steering, by the way, John. He nods in reply, chest heaving. Roxy, Raka says, turning to her.

Do you really think that the thing in the pond could have dragged stubs all this way? She bites a lip, but does not respond. He's alive, she eventually says, simply. I can feel it. Then she grabs onto an hour. outcrop in the rough wall and hoist itself up, walking on and determinedly around the next corner, we exchange glances and rise to follow, following her up to a sudden and unwelcome stop.

We stop because the walls of rock on each side connect in the middle. We can go no further. It's a dead end, I murmur. Our eyes have adjusted well to the dark by now. But I scan the weak beam of the torch all around just in case. There is no way through. No, no, not a dead end. Roxy says, scrunching, her eyes tight shut and putting a hand on a temple.

This is it. This is where the dreams end. This is where the tunnel ends, where it opens. She opens her eyes and suddenly turns her head to the left. I follow her gaze with a beam of the torch. and it lands on a shard of bronze, or perhaps copper, stuck out from the side of the wall. Roxy walks over to it and traces her fingertips along it. She looks at the end of the tunnel where the rock meets the rock and she tilts her head.

We watch her in silence. After a minute she speaks. Do as I do, guys, she says softly, and deep focus your vision. try to look beyond the rock and the way becomes clear she's so calm so nonchalantly calm it's freaking me the hell out

but we do as she says we trace the shard of bronze and angle our heads focusing hard and trying to see through the connecting walls of wet rock and something clicks as I narrow my eyes staring a passageway becomes suddenly clear

obvious even a narrow path through the wet stone. Whoa, what the hell? I think out loud, returning my head to its original position. The passage vanishes. I tilt my head again and it reappears, like an illusion.

It makes me feel sort of queasy in a way, but I focus on it. And once I feel like I can hold the image in my mind like a magic eye picture, I find I can steadily return my head to a more comfortable position and the route through the rock is retained. You got this? Roxy asks and we nod one by one. I wordlessly pass the torch and she leads the way

and we walk in single file through the hidden narrow pathway of the cave. This is incredible, I hear from behind, Waka. We stumble through and show us. Shortly, impossibly, we find ourselves forced to a squint. I have to bring a hand up to shade my eyes. Shade them from a sudden blast of daylight. Daylight? No, not possible.

But the rocks end, and one by one we stumble out onto a narrow ledge, blinded by the light of the sun. What on earth? Are we outside? I hear from my left. Wacker again. I squint through my fingers to see him covering his eyes too. They all are.

I feel air, says Roxy. Warm air. But how can that be? I ask. The pipe we entered was a good four, five metres below the ground. We haven't gone up at all, have we? Did the route feel like it was rising to any of you guys? They all answer in the negative.

And, as I rise adjusted the light, one by one we peel away our fingers, looking out over the scene before us, and, whilst I can't speak for the others, I am dumbstruck by what I see. Their silence and gaping mouths would suggest they share my sentiments, however. We stand on a rocky ledge and a hill above a shallow, flooded valley. The sky is bright and blue, and the sun shines down on what can only be. What looks like? an abandoned amusement park, half submerged in the floods.

Decaying roller coaster tracks stick out from the waters, rubbish bins, novelty signs, pieces of park communities and other such debris floats among the wreckage. Beyond the boundaries of the empty park are nothing but fields, stretched over gentle, rolling hills, all the way towards the horizon in every direction. Aside from what we can see in the valley, there are no trees, and there are no mountains, no buildings, no telegraph poles, nor is there even any sound of the coast,

just fields and floodwater, as far as the eye can see. A little further down the hill, a little closer to the entrance to the flooded theme park, stands a statue. Facing away from us and made from the same strange copper bronze, a cracked greenish patina creeps round one of its legs and up to its waist, It's a man, stood proud, looking out over the scene below. Roxy jumps from the ledge and skits down the grass towards it.

Roxy? I call out, wait! And we stumble down after her, slipping to a stop as a group and turning to look up at the statue. Roxy is shaking, but the statue is smiling, one hand in his pocket, the other outstretched. outstretched, and the word on the pedestal reads as follows. Harry Lawson, dreamer, pioneer, founder. I look back up to the statue's face. He twinkles in the curious light of the sun. Harry Lawson.

This statue, this man, it's roxy and stubs his father. He stands tall, straight-backed, though, from, From the front, the patina looks much worse. The green rot has crept up to the lapels of his bronze suit. A sizable chunk is missing from one of his legs, and shattered chards and pieces of the statue littered the pedestal beneath amongst chunks of rock. Trater has been scrawled across his torso in white paint, long faded.

Roxy, I begin. But she interrupts. I don't know, she says in a wavering boy. I promise you, I really genuinely don't know. I don't really have any memories of him, but I've seen pictures, and I do know that this is definitely him. She runs her hand through her hair. I don't get it. My mum just told me he was an engineer.

She trows off. I glance back down to the inscription in the pedestal. Dreamer, pioneer, founder. Did he... build this place. I ask, no one in particular, turning to look at the wrecked and abandoned amusement park in the valley below us. I wonder what happened here, Waka murmurs.

John clasped his hands together. Only one way to find out. Are you guys ready? And he sets down the side of the hill in long, careful strides. Waka follows. I turn to Roxy, still gazing up with the, statue and I squeeze her shoulder. Are you okay, rocks? I ask her.

She does not reply, but she nods and I squeeze her a little tighter. We set off down the hill after the others. As we descend the hill, we approach the bank of the floodwater. Gray, grimy. A layer of green mossy ponds come drifts disjointedly across the surface. The entrance to the park just ahead is half submerged beneath and the tops of turnstiles and ticket machines are only slightly visible below the water line. I look up and across the water.

The world is silent. No birds, no breeze. I look and a distant mechanical groan ripples towards us from far away. A noise that is faint, but still more than enough to set me on edge. Who knows how far down the water goes at its deepest point? Who knows what malevolence lies beneath? Where are you, Stubbs? We could go around the outside, John suggests, see if there's an easier way in?

And, without any better suggestions, we do so, trampling and stumbling through the wet grass of the fields and the low hills round the edge of the flooded valley, slowly navigating its perimeter in search of a way inside. We get a decent look into the park on our route around. The place is a complete wreck. Not just decayed from age, left to rot in disrepair, but actively vandalized, smashed up.

And the graffiti, scrawled in clumsy letters on the roofs or walls of kiosks and sections of buildings that still lie above the floods. The messages are angry. full of resentful rage. He has forsaken us. We are the forgotten, abandoned, feel the air,

peddler of dreams. One message reads and read, though dreams has been crossed out and replaced with nightmares. The wording is sloppy, as if they were drawn or painted hastily or in shaking hands.

I clenched my jaw. We pass a fountain too. Broken now, of course, but right on the edge of the park, so only partially submerged. It's full of little animatronic frogs, the same kind that I found at the entrance to the pipe. Most of them lie still, but one of them pops up at me with a wet clank and sprays me with a squirt of water. Under other circumstances, it might have been very funny. I watch it warily as it gurgles and sinks back down below the third. surface. Eventually a potential means of entering the amusement park presents itself to us,

but it's not particularly convenient. We have come to a stop at the edge of a wide lake, and when I say lake, I mean that this area of water gives the impression that it actually used to be a lake, though now it sits bloated, long having burst its banks and and having risen to these extraordinary levels. Rainforest River Cruise, a sign just above the surface of the water proclaims proudly. The tops of palm trees and other such jungle flora poke up from the water all around at varying heights. I'm not sure how they're still alive.

Maybe they're made of plastic. But what has caught our attention is a little pontoon boat, 10 or so meters out into the service and resting against an entrance to a man. another ride, a roller coaster of some kind that disappears into a cave. Do we think it even still works? Roxy asks. No idea, Waka replies. Fuel goes bad, doesn't it?

True, I say. But nothing I've seen this evening has actually made any real sense, so I'm willing to give it a go. All right, so how are we going to get it? Who's the best swimmer? John asks, and he turns a stare at him. It's me, I should think. John, mate, you can't be serious, I exclaim.

Remember what happened to Stubbs? You can't go in there. The others voiced their protests too, but John just calmly sits down on the grass and begins taking off his shoes. Looks to be about ten metres to me. He says, Ten meters is nothing.

That's less than half the length of a pool. You've seen me swim, Ollie. Am I fast? Yeah, I reply hesitantly. You are. Can you see anything in the water? He asks. We all step a little closer to the edge. The green pondscum is not so bad here,

and we can see a little ways down into the depths. But again, we cannot see far. And we have no idea of knowing how deep down it really goes. I peer into it closely, carefully scanning the route to the boat. But, I see nothing. No submerged shapes or grinding

gears. Just dark water. No, I reply. But John, are you sure about this? You really don't have to get in there, you know. We could keep walking, maybe find another way in. John pulls off his shirt, clasping me

on the shoulder, and he slowly It eases himself into the lake. I grip my teeth in second-hand discomfort and watch as he carries himself through the flood, quickly gaining in speed with careful technique, trying to minimize his disturbance of the water. In a matter of seconds, he's already halfway there, but it feels a lot slower. A hell of a lot slower. In my mind's eye, I see monsters beneath him, hiding in the darkness, looking up at his kicking legs through five glass eyes, churning and rattling through their waterlog gears as they

jolt dangerously up to meet him. I scanned my eyes across the water, looking for a fin, for an opening jaw for the spines of some silicon reptilian beast. But I see nothing. The water shimmer softly in John's wake and he throws an arm up onto the side of the pontoon boat, hoisting himself aboard, and I realise the I've been holding my breath. I release and take in a welcome longful of air

as he brushes himself down as he begins to look around the battered old boat. Looks like the keys are still in, he calls over across the water. Then he turns back to the boat and starts fiddling with the controls. It's hard to tell from here, but it looks like he turned it a few times.

Nothing's happening, he calls again. and Waka shouts back, suggesting he pushed the throttle forwards before he tries the key. It seems to work, or something works at least. The boat makes an ungodly clanking sound, one that gives John pause for a moment. Then he tries again. The boat grinds and whers. He tries again. The boat makes another uncomfortable noise, then starts to rattle.

There is no accompanying sound of an engine starting. But the motor of the back begins to shudder nonetheless. John looks over to us and shrugs, toying with the throttle, and the boat lurches suddenly into life. He falls to the ground of the boat with a loud smack as it starts to push itself across the surface, churning up water into a froth behind it. I suck in a mouthful of air through my teeth, putting my hands to the side of my head and following the path of the boat with my eyes. John climbs unsteady to his feet, stumbling and takes hold of the wheel, spinning it round

in a narrow circle and tipping the vessel dangerously to the side. For goodness sake, John, and mutter, but he regains control, bringing the boat steadily, if rather awkwardly, up to the bank where we stand. It bumps into the side of the hill, and John stumbles back, then leans over the side to help us all up. know John, Wacker says. I've actually driven one of these before, or at least something similar. I could take over, if you want.

John gestures to the controls, and, to my secret relief, Waka steps up, easing the boat round in a careful arc. He cautiously drives it onwards, navigating the curious, potential plastic outcrops of jungle trees and the other floating debris of the theme park. it's so eerily quiet This is a place that should be bustling bursting with life But instead

It lies in ruin Damn Wackamomomers And the boat turns It shudders suddenly bashing into something sticking out of the water And we stumble

Sorry he calls back We look out over the side To see what it is And it looks to me like a kind of old speaker. I moved to the end of the boat, holding onto the rail and crouching down for a better look. The speaker seems heavily damaged

and, despite being undoubtedly waterlogged to the extreme, it crackles unsettling into life. It wobbles out a message, distorted, but plenty loud in the relative quiet. Challenging times lie ahead, comrades. But we are the draw. Dreammakers of Dreamworld. Remain at your posts and do your duty.

Dream world salute you. I swallow with a dry throat and watch the battered speaker drift lazily past. Something beyond it in the near distance catches my eye. The water seems to be shifting. It's being displaced, as if something massive is pushing up from beneath. Guys, I began anxiously. My heart starting to pound in my chest. and a glass or shape reaches the surface, the largest so far.

All the little hairs of my neck and forearm stand on end as what looks like a gigantic, decaying whale rises from beneath the water. It's enormous. There's no telling how many levers and gears work on hidden tracks below to keep it operational. Water blasts from its snouts and its jaws crank slowly open, failing to move in time with a groan that echoes from inside it. I don't know what colour it might have been originally, but it now wears a coat of chipped and dank yellow and grey.

Yellow grey, except for its eyes. Only one is visible from my position on that pontoon boat, but it is somewhere retained a brilliant shade of watery white. It's larger than the eye of an actual whale. I'm sure of it. and a tiny pitch-black pupil in its centre gives the whale an impression of lunacy of fierce, contagious madness. Oh my God, Roxy shouts. I turn to her, but she isn't looking at the whale.

She is looking at something else. Waka, who like me, has been watching in horror the rise of the decaying behemoth, jerks his head back around and swears, spinning the wheel, and grabbing the throttle and panicked simultaneous movement. And from my position, crouched at the end of the boat by the rail, I stumble and slip. There isn't even time for me to cry out.

I fall off the edge and crash down into the water. I hit the surface hard and head first, and for a brief moment I am almost completely submerged. I can hear the motor of the pontoon boat, churning and disappearing away, leaving me behind and I opened my eyes. Through the murk I can see the pale shapes of my arms and hands flailing. I see my legs kicking and below me is darkness.

Curia shapes drift in the deep far below and the largest suddenly rotates as if turning on its side and a stream of bubbles rise up towards me. The last thing I see deep, Deep down below in the depths is a long, hungry row of grisly, rotted teeth. And then, I am lost to the blindness of my panic. From worldwide topmerken, to entrepreneurs that net begin. Millioonsertrawe're on-line, in your winkel, on Instagram, TikTok and more.

Allers from out one platform. Beheer your products, bestellings and bettaling, and betaling, and easy-euffic. Shopify grew with you with every step of the way. Start today not your gratis-proof-perioder on Shopify.b.e. That is Shopify.b.e. It's below me. That's all I can think. The lone thought that screams like a warning siren through my head.

It's below me. I splash and thrash around dangerously, expanding far more energy than it's necessary to bring my head back above the surface for a gulp of air. I swivel around madly, the whale watches from afar, I twist round. The pontoon boat is small in the distance. I think I can hear Roxy shouting, but that is of little concern to me now. My purpose has been primed and brutally focused, to get out of the water, to get out of the

damn water now. I throw forwards my arm, pulling myself through it, throwing forwards the other, kicking desperately and spluttering, choking on the rank and surrounding fluids. The nearest floating object to me, the one I've honed in on is the bedello, a paddleboat. Once fashioned in the likeness of a swan, but parts of it have since peeled and broken away, I powered towards it as an underwater groan vibrates up from beneath. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. I slam into the swan and try to clamper up and into it, but the sides are too soon.

smooth. They're too damn smooth. I lose my grip and crash back down into the murk, the water rushing around my ears. The groan beneath becomes louder. I feel almost as if I'm being pushed upwards, as if the water beneath me is rising, forced up by some approaching, ascending leviathan.

I roar incomprehensibly in urgent distress, grabbing hard onto the side of the paddleboat and attempting to heave myself up one more time. and as fate would have it, I am successful. I pull myself up and into the little boat with a grunt of exertion as it rocks and sways under my weight. Pushing my dripping fringe from my eyes, I swivel, scrambling around, my hands gripping the pedal boat's side as I look back down into the water below. I see something just beneath the surface, layered shadowy shapes, moving and churning.

But I only get a glimpse before they roll underneath me and disappear, sinking back down into the darkness of the deep. Damn! I shout, adrenaline pumping. My hand runs through my hair. Damn! I lift my gaze to see the pontoon boat circling back round towards me. After a minute or so, it finally approaches and gets close enough for me to jump back aboard. I'm shaking, fuming, but allow Roxanne John to hug me in wrong.

relief as Waka drives the boat a little further on into the park. Nice one, Waka, you moron. I call over to him coldly once I've gathered my thoughts. He shoots an angry look back at me and puts the boat into neutral, allowing it to drift gently and steadily over the water. Me? he says defensively. Maybe you shouldn't have been leaning over the damage. There are monsters in the water, Waka, I shouted him.

I knew it. You shouldn't have been so careful. careless and I shouldn't have allowed you to swim for the boat in the first place John. Roxy reaches out to me but I shrug her off. I could have just died. You realised that right. You certainly took your time getting back to me. Yeah, well, I've got news for you, mate.

Driving a pontoon boat isn't actually that easy. Waka shouts back, stepping forwards. So how about you stop playing around the edge if you don't want to fall in? I shove him away and he shoves me back. Guys, Roxy calls out, come on. And John puts himself between us, pushes us apart. My anger is redirected. And you know what, Roxy?

What the hell is going on here exactly? We're just supposed to believe that you have no idea about any of this? A statue of your dad and magical dreams? I throw my arms out wide, chest rising and falling. Why the hell did Stubbs have to mess about in the pond in the first place anyway? the stupid dick What the hell is going on? Roxy does not respond

And we all stand there for a moment, tensed before she slums down to the floor of the boat And puts her head in her hands Her shoulders shake And she starts to softly cry I run a hand through my soaking hair And exhale My resentment dissipating instantly

Into a cloud of cool guilt One by one we all sit down on the deck, backs up against the sides, listening to the quiet sound of the surrounding water sloshing gently against the vessel. I sigh. I'm sorry, guys, I say eventually, and mean it. Waka looks at me. Yeah, yeah, me too, Ollie. I should have been looking where I was going. I didn't mean for you to fall in. I know, I reply. I know. It's just this place. This place is my fault Roxy cuts in

sniffling that's what it feels like it feels like my fault I'm the one that dragged you guys here but you're going after my idiot brother and then I find out that my dad's the founder or whatever what the hell am I supposed to make of that

he died when I was two I was never told about him designing an amusement park or building animatronics I just want to find my brother and get the hell out this is the worst thing that's ever happened to me It's the best thing that's ever happened to me John says quietly

And we all turn to look at him Not about losing stubs, I mean, obviously But this, this whole adventure It's the most exciting thing that's ever happened in my life We've been given a clear purpose A noble mission Save Stubbs He smiles sadly

Save Stubbs We remain quiet and he continues I used the day july about there being a war, you know, a massive one, third world war maybe. I still do actually. For real, about being drafted, about being given an objective, good versus bad. Something I can actually do with my life, a cause to fight for. He sighs and rubs his forehead.

I'm just so tired, you know, tired of feeling... Empty. The water laps softly at the sides of the boat. I'll help you find a cause, John. I say to him after a moment of reflection, When we get out of here, I'll help you find something to fight for. The others murmur their agreement and John chuckles good-naturedly. You guys are all right, he says, and we laugh.

It feels nice, it feels warming. Waka eases himself back up to his feet and returns to the controls and we rise to the controls And we rise too, settling into the seats as he begins to drive us onward. So, what are we looking for exactly? He asks. We turn to Roxy, but she shrugs, wiping a face. My guess is as good as yours? A hint of some kind?

A sign that he might have been by? What sort of clue might stubs have left us? The place is just so utterly ruined. It's hard to tell if any of the multitude disturbances were caused recently or long ago. And all around us is more of that worrying graffiti, scrawled over signs and broken billboards. He sealed us away.

Salvation lies beneath. The dreamer will return, one sign boasted in bold red, but traitor has been scribbled over the phrase numerous times in a multitude of colors. Roxy shakes ahead. I can't believe I let this happen. I should have stopped him.

I should have kept him out of the pond. I'm far too lenient. That's my problem. Maybe it's because he's a little older and I think he knows best, but he doesn't. He never has. I was there the night because of his finger. I should have stopped him then too, but I didn't. She chews the tongue as she looks out over the surrounding desolation. Things will have to change going forward. I'll make sure of it. Guys, guys, look over there. Waka says with an edge. in his voice. He turned to look.

I sense is sharpened at once. The tension returned. A bright but tattered flag, adorning a tall, narrow pole ripples gently in the breeze. What is it? I ask. The flag, Wacker says. What's wrong with the flag? And of course, after he says it, it's obvious.

There is no breeze. The air is dead still, and yet the flag blows up. all the same, with a renewed and secret energy above the wreckage of this park. Something's happening, Roxy whispers, and yet I can feel it too, an electricity crackling through the air, a brief but nonetheless discernible change in pressure, and an alien voice bursts from unseen speakers scattered around the ruin. It begins as a terrible hiss, but quickly, as if accommodating itself to my eardrums, it becomes comprehensible. Colleagues, the voice crackles and roars, rapidly and eagerly.

A final opportunity has presented itself. To those who have given up, to those who have consigned themselves to the depths, say to all there is a way back. We have the son of the dreamer, and there is now a way back. A shiver of primal fear courses through me, these words. I'm overcome with a realization that in this moment, I am as good as

an enemy, lost in a hostile land, or a drift in hostile waters. I return my gaze to the flag, and I follow its pole all the way down. Our boat sails past the top off of a fake, snow-covered

mountain of steel and concrete, and the flagpole's base becomes clearer. And there, strung up like a sacrifice above the water beneath, wrists bound and head lulled to the side. His stubs. Stubbs. A mechanical monster, grey and rusted, half-man, half-toed, stands in a floating platform

below him. I watch, eyes wide, impulse racing, as the machine's jaws clank augudely open, and the secret surrounding speakers blare out once more. The unraveling of the route is a fable no longer. The voice cries with impassionate determination Gather yourselves, colleagues, oh ye left behind For this day in the deep is our last We will return

Take your mechanical forms friends And brave the air one final time I swear to you our salvation lies Not with a dreamer but with his son Rise now, I bid you, rise The terrible voice blares out from all angles as Waka swings around the wheel of the boat, the spray rising high and catching against our clothes, our hair, rockses in particular, blowing fiercely out behind.

The animatronic on the platform, a rusting suit of grey metal and silicon, the rough form of a man but with a head of a toad, becomes suddenly aware of us and our swift approach. His jaws clanked closed as the boat tears towards him across the surface of the flood. I see that what I mistook for legs are instead a single, thick series of pistons that, whilst giving the impression of the animatronics standing on the platform, actually extend down into the murky water behind.

Get ready to jump, Wacker calls back to us, and I can feel my rage, my disgust at this world and its inhabitants and all they've put us through, pumping through my veins as I prepare. As the platform grows closer and closer,

the boat does not slow. The towman recoils awkwardly, his rustled pistons drawing him back, but too slow, far too slow. His jaw clanks open once again, but no voice is heard this time. The boat slams into him full speed

and shutters violently against the floating platform, sending it sprawling into the bars of a twisted, partially submerged section of a roller coaster rail. Roxy and John are thrown to the floor of the boat, but I am not. I fly forwards over the gap, slipping and stumbling dangerously, and crashing, tumbling into a heap on the platform as it drifts uneasily in the water. Swearing and standing with stabs of pain across my shoulder and side, I twist to see the torn, broken lower half of the animatronic's rusted pistons, retreating joltingly into the water.

The toadman himself now diskinated from his legs, is crushed between the stilled, spluttering boat and the rails of the coaster. I don't waste any time. I spent the length of the platform and jump across the watery gap, landing against the rails of the coaster and grunting, gripping tight to the warm metal, clambering up towards stubs. Please be okay, mate, please be okay. I can hear Roxy calling up below me.

I think I can hear John bellowing. I hear the sound of metal against metal, but I don't look back. I only look ahead, grimacing as I climbed towards, stubs swinging out an arm and slap him lightly across the face. Stubbs, wake the hell up. It's Ollie. We're here, mate. We're here to save you. He does not respond, but his eyelids flicker and he groans. And for now, that's enough. He's alive. I loop one of my elbows through the rail and said to work untying the knots

around his closest wrist. It doesn't take long. The knots were not carefully tied. His arm loose and his whole body slumps down, and my stomach lurches in panic that he might fall completely into the now, steadily bubbling waters below. He does not, but he does jerk awake in a fright. He chokes, spitting, coughing. Stubbs, I shout, unable to help the spread of a sudden grin across my face. Olly? He mutters, glancing down and realizing at once how high above the waters he's tied.

Oh, Jesus, God, oh God. Calm down, mate, calm down. I urge as a reach over for his other restraints. This is your rescue. We're getting you down, and we're getting the hell out of here. The others are below. His face contort and confusion. Then flashes with sudden remembrance.

Ollie, the air. They hate it. They need the water. It was my dad. I don't. He splutters. His thoughts and mess, struggling with his. memories.

They're trying to leave, Olly. This place, they're going to use me as a gate. Not if we can help it, I grunt, freeing him and shooting out an arm to hold him in place as he slips. I ask if he's all right to climb, and once he replies that he is, we descend, though our progress down the rails of the coaster is slow. The water bubbles violently all around. I jump back down onto the platform below and raise a hand, helping stubble to the floor

down too. He can walk by himself but his legs shake, so I support him and we head to the far end of the platform. Perhaps now isn't the best time, but I have to know. I just have to know. Stubbs, I ask as we hobble across, a little fearful of the answer. Did you know? About this place, I mean. Did you know what was here about all this? No, no, not really I'm so sorry They were just Just dreams

He replies, muttering and winting The platform has drifted too far away from the boat And we cannot reboard So we stand at the end I call across the water as it swirls And churns angrily below us Waka, does the boat still work Can you bring it round?

Waka does not hear me He is, like John, attacking with force the broken body of the animatronic toadman. Trapped between the crushing bow of the pontoon boat and the twisted bent rails of the coaster behind. His head jerked from left to right as Walker and John swing down metal beams again and again. Roxy hears me though, and her eyes go wide as she looks over, her hands rising to her mouth. Eddie? she calls over. Oh, Eddie, you idiot! Stubbs does not respond, but he grins weakly at her.

Roxy gets Waka's attention and the group calls out in relief, scrambling back into the boat. Wacker tries the ignition a few times and the vessel grinds wearily with each attempt. The animatronic looks over to Stubbs and myself as the boat, thankfully, returns to shuddering life. The world begins to shake, creaking metal and shimmering, shifting water, Shapes move about in the darkness below. The jaw of the toadman cranks open and his voice fills again the hidden speakers all around. Please. Don't leave us.

Don't leave us again. Don't abandon us as the founder did. The boat begins to reverse and the rails of the coaster creaks dangerously. The animatronic begins to slip, but still he speaks. silicon plastic expression filled, but the desperation in his voice as clear as day. The child of the dreamer can guide the way. We can escape. We can save the brothers and sisters trapped in the in-between.

The fields approach and the air is poison. Don't. Please don't leave us here to rot. But before I have real time to process his words. The boat breaks away from the rails of the coaster and the animatronic falls. hitting the water with a smack. It quickly disappears beneath the murk with a final gurgle of distress.

The boat powers through the water towards us and we hold stubs aboard. I clamber behind as John clasps me on the back. Roxy is beside herself, shouting and laughing and squeezing Stubbs as tightly as she can. She holds him and brings him down to a sitting position on the floor. You know Stubbs?

Wacker calls back. None of this would have been. happened if we just called the local council like I suggested. Stubbs chokes out a laugh. Screw you, Waka. Waka laughs in return, pushing down the throttle as the water around us surges

and the grinding of gears and the pumping of pistons rises into a frenzied roar. The cry of a forgotten people, a people forced into a last, desperate assault as the final hope of escape threatens to disappear forever. An enormous grey-black tentacle of screaming metal and rotting canvas bursts from the floods behind and swing down towards us. Waka's knuckles turn white against the wheel and his voice ripples with a sudden fire and adrenaline-awaken confidence that I have never heard from him before.

Hold on tight to the sides, lads, we won't be called today, I swear to you now. And with a laugh bursting with fear and tinted with madness, he slams forward the throttle and says, spins the wheel, and the boat careens around in a sharp circle, the tentacle crashing down to our side, whipping up a piercing and unwelcome spray. I squint my eyes and grip my teeth, gripping tight to the rails at the side of the boat as it steadies and tears through the water, glancing off marks of ruin and broken wonders. Monsters and machines rise up from beneath, from everywhere, and the water rises with them. It has begun to swirl in waves, small at first, with sources unknown, but they come heavier

and faster, rocking and hammering against the boat. Just a little further, I plead through my teeth. Come on, come on, come on. I lift my gaze and look on ahead. And there's the statue. The statue of Harry Lawson. The man. The man responsible?

responsible, responsible somehow for this damn nightmare. And yet the statue is closer than it should be. It's closer to the waterline. How could that be? Unless... Unless the water is rising, or the valley itself is sinking. Waka brings the boat round in an arc as unknown mechanisms below, push and grind against it furiously.

We stumble and the boat's half-dox itself. crashes into the remains of a billboard, partly submerged and fallen against the wet, grassy bank of the hill. We leap from the deck and onto the grass, though stubs collapses to his knees upon landing, groaning. John hauls himself to his feet and we scramble up the bank towards the entrance to the cave. I pause for a moment by the statue, trembling, my jaw set. I look up into his face. There are so many secrets here. We've only just scratched the surface.

I know it. What did you build here exactly, Harry? Who did you leave behind? Ollie? John hollers down at me. Time to go, mate. My nod, racing up the hill to the crack in the rock, casting one last look behind me.

The water crashes angrily against the side of the hill, as if it's reaching out for us, calling for us. Something massive connects with the wall. boat and the vessel appears to fold in on itself. The metal screeching and crunching as it crumbles and disappears, dragged down under the water. All manner of strange, amalgamated forms rise up now, clawing and wailing and jolting upwards with the rising tide. But there is only one that meets my eye. The crocodile dragon, the animatronic from the pond, gray green and covered in moss

Amber Fiberglass eyes glowing With desperate fury Boring into mine As the churning water froths And sloshes around its base The creature's jaw clanks open But I don't stick around to hear

What, if anything, it has to say Instead I turn And I run Back through the narrow passage in the cave Back through the tunnels of rock The walls shake The water rises It swells just below our knees

Roxy raises the torch Back on board the wooden platform we climb And though it is drifted with the rising water We can no longer see the edge of the rocky bank I am very very welcome for its presence It supports our weight And I perhaps riskily Hastily pull up another plank

To allow both myself and John to paddle The animatronics we encountered here In the cave are nowhere to be seen nor is it easy to tell if the bubbles are rising in the churning water. I can only assume they have sunk in return below the surface. We stumble back into the pipe and we run. We run and we slip and stagger in the rising water. John hoist stubs onto his back in a fireman's carry,

but soon our options are narrowed even further. The water level becomes too high and we have no choice but to swim. The end of the pipe is visible. I can see it. I can see the grey light of the evening shine through it, but the water quickly continues to rise. Come on! I scream as we push closer and closer to the pipe ceiling.

We're nearly there, we're nearly there! But we're running out of time. My head hits the roof of the pipe. I choke on the water. I take a deep breath, and I am submerged. I open my eyes through. the water and I can see the way ahead, a circle of light getting larger and larger, closer

and closer. Nearly, nearly. I turned my head, looking for the others. I can see shapes swimming desperately besides me. But how many? Is that everyone? I forced my arms and legs through the water as fast as I can. My lungs burn with heated breath, aching for escape, contracting, scorned.

screaming for renewal. And I have left the pipe. I turn upwards and madly kick my legs. With the last of my energy, I claw my way towards the surface. The sounds of the rain against the pond grow louder and shadows shake in the corner of my eyes. And I surface. I throw my head back and take in a deep, deep, cold, longful of fresh country air, choking, spluttering, taking in another as I drag myself up.

to the shore and into the mud of the bank, wheezing, coughing, greedly swallowing mouthfuls of rejuvenating oxygen. But... I am alone. Where are the others? Where are they? I can't go back there, physically. I just can't.

I'll drown. I can barely move. So instead I shiver and shake in the mud and the reeds. The rain spattering down all around me as the long, green leaves. of the willow tree are also softly in the breeze. Guys, I tried to shout, but it comes out as a croak. Guys, please, and someone surfaces. Waka, wheezing, gasping for air, and then Roxy and John, and then stubs.

The sob of relief racks my body as they haul themselves out of the pond, collapsing around me in the mud, and for a moment we do nothing but breathe. listening to the sounds of the rain of our chests rising and falling and sharing in the collective heat from our bodies. And once we feel like we're able, we rise one at a time, until, as a group, we silently take our leave, trekking back down the path in a weary days. It isn't until we pass that bloody rock, the rock with a shot of bronze stuck in the side of it, the rock that Stubbs made us all touch on our way to the pond, when we hear, a sudden voice from behind.

Oy, it shouts. And we turned to see a police officer appeared from nowhere, staring at us in confusion. The firemen sprint past him in the distance. A helicopter hovers in the air far behind as a police van trundles awkwardly through the rough, wet terrain. He takes in our ghost white faces,

I clenched jaws and are soaked through mud-stained clothes. Did one of you kids call about their brother falling into the pond? So, it's been two months since that night. Thank you for following my story. The more people know in my view, the better. Here is what happened after. The police were furious with us for one thing. They took us home and lectured us,

and our parents, on wasting valuable police time. We went back to the pond the following week, Armed, I should add, with bats and knives, and we even touched the rock on our way round the hill. But the animatronic was gone. Absolutely no sign of it at all. Roxy posted some pictures she'd taken with a phone of the amusement park to a bunch of online forums in a quest for knowledge. Stubbs has been keeping a dream journal. He comes so, so maddeningly close to understanding, he says.

They both do. But it always slips away when they wait. up. Their mother has been no use. She refuses to acknowledge the story she is told and won't divulge any new information about her late husband. But she's hiding something. It's obvious. And I did end up asking Roxy out, by the way, with Stubbs's blessing, and she said yes, on the condition I rain in my short temper. I agreed, and I really have become so much better. But, the relationship did not last particularly long, just over a month, I'd say.

Because that, when Stubbs and Roxy, vanished. Their mother left a curious public Facebook post. So long, basically. Moving out, good luck everyone, goodbye. Wacker and John and I were round within the hour, but the family has completely disappeared.

The house has become emptied and with no word of a real goodbye. No texts, nothing. Just vanished. We returned as a trio to the pond, but the rock with a shot of bronze in it has gone. And the pond, to our utter surprise, has been filled in, entirely replaced with rough, fresh earth.

There were cameras set up around it too. The secret camouflage kinds that wildlife watchers use attached to the trunks of the trees. We didn't stay long. and this is not the end it can't be because I took something from the twisted world beyond the pipe

a few things actually one dangles on a piece of cord around my neck the other around Wackers and the third around Johns pieces of bronze shards have shattered bronze from the base of the statue of Harry Lawson of Stubbs' and rocks his father

dreamer pioneer founder the same bronze that we found stuck in the wall of the cavern, the same bronze embedded in stubs as rock. And we've all begun having the dreams now, difficult to hold on to, but they are there, and they show to us glimpses of Roxy.

They show us glimpses of stubs. Not in the world of the floods, the world of the ruined and desolate theme park, but somewhere else, somewhere new. And I swear to you now, my friends, we're going to find them. Whatever it takes, we'll get them back.