Creepy - Day 21 - There Are No Ghosts in Lake Alpo & The Beast

Episode Date: October 21, 2022

There Are No Ghosts in Lake Alpo***Written by: Thomas Moore***The Beast***Written by: Samantha Arthurs and Narrated by: Owen McCuen***Tickets for the "Creepy" live show can be purchased at: https://bit.ly/BloodyFM***Check out our reward tiers at patreon.com/creepypod***Sound Design by Pacific Obadiah***Title music by Alex Aldea***Intro/Outro Narration by Joe Stofko Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Welcome to the bloody disgusting network. No. This is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepypastas and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened or are simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of biopictions. Silence and explicit language.

Listener discretion is advised. Creepy presents. The 31 Days of Horror. Day 21. There are no ghosts in Lake Elpo. Written by Thomas Moore. When the body washed up, the same thing was on everybody's mind. Bloated Bill.

It was hard not to think that with the state of the corpse. was in. We get bodies like that every now and then up at Lake Elpo, usually because some kid or drunk bonk their head real hard and drowned in the water. Not this time, though. This time it was clear would have killed her. Rachel, I think her name was. Didn't see of her much before that day. She seemed nice and sure sounded that way from how folks talked about her. She seemed to see her gone so suddenly. worse was how it had happened we saw the wounds as they pulled her out two massive gashes running down her chest

and giving way to two giant holes where her lungs had been her ribs were broken off and jagged ends her skin and clothes had been torn up something fierce it was obvious from that it was no accident something had ripped open poor rachel and tore out her lungs just like in the stories You see, there's this old tale around Lake Elpo, that of bloated Bill. Every kid and grandfalls got told about him, usually around a crackling camp fire one dark summer night.

Story goes that before we had drones or underwater cameras, people still wanted to know was at the bottom Lake Elpo. And one man set out to do just that. Grabbed an old diving suit, kind with a fishbow for a helmet, and set out into the murky depths. He was down there all day and told us. about midnight when the crew he'd left pumped air into his suit got a signal. Two tugs on the safety line. Bill needed more air. Saw this air pumping faster now.

But no matter how hard they tried, old Bill kept tugging on that line. I need air. I need air. A few minutes later, the line goes still. The crew starts rushing to pull old Bill out of the water. Seven minutes later, his bloated corpse broke the surface. naked and swollen on lake water. Problem more than just, there was no sign of a suit, but the line, the tube feeding back into the lake,

something was still pulling on it. Two tugs. I need air. Nowadays people say Bill is still trapped down there and need an air, something fierce. And if you find yourself lingering too close to the lakefront, he'll rise from the water and steal the breath right from your lungs. Didn't take a genius to make the connection. It was more gruesome than we'd imagined.

But we figured Bill just had some trouble getting the air out. So, took the whole lungs instead. Authorities tried to calm us down, but good luck calming down an entire town after someone washes up their guts ripped out. Even those who weren't whispering about bloated Bill were starting to panic. To make matters worse, poor Rachel wasn't alone. A week later another body was found at the edge of the lake. Thomas Lorne was his name.

He was 10. Same M.O. too. His lungs were ripped out, leaving two gaping holes in his tiny chest. That got folks real riled up. Rachel was one thing, but now another body and a child, no less. That was unacceptable. People started demanding the police do something with much, greater fervor.

Someone even graffeted a cruiser. But the police couldn't do much. There's no fingerprints left on the body, no blood stains except their own, not even a trace of the lungs. Only thing they had in common was where they were last seen. Lake Elpo. Of course they're not going to find anything. I remember someone saying one night. We'd all gathered in the town pub to drink down our worries.

Not that it worked, though. I don't know about everyone else, but I was feeling antsy sitting there with my thumb up my ass. You can't arrest a demon, the same person said. His voice was like gravel, but his words were exactly what I wanted to hear. And this be a demon, y'all know it. It's blow to bill out there, and he's coming for us all. The fuck the cops think they can do. The hell you expect us to do about it, someone else said.

No one was having it. I don't know about you, but I'm not sitting here like some limp-risted pussy waiting for Bill to come take someone else. This is our town, God damn it. If he wants too well, then he's going to have to go through us. And you think we're going to do more than the cops? Ain't nothing on God's green earth can survive my 12-gauge. Nothing, you hear? I don't care if it's a ghost, the demon, or some psychopath out there.

I'll blow it clean back to hell. A flurry of Yaz rose from the crowd now. I was right there with him. So I say we go down to lake ourselves and wait for that some bitch to come crawling out and give him a taste of good old-fashioned Grand Falls justice. You hear? A roar surged through the room. All of us being liquored up like we were.

There's nothing to speak or could say that we'd object to. So we all stumbled on back to our homes, grabbed our pieces, and marched on Lake Elpo like a conquering army. In hindsight, it wasn't the brightest idea. The last kind of people you want to gather and are pissed off, heavily armed drunks. Something was going to happen, and it wasn't going to be pretty. But none of us could have predicted what came next. Our plan was a half-baked stepchild of booze and bloodlust.

We just squatted down in some bushes by the lake and waited. Sure, we sent some poor boy out to sit right at the water's edge, but he wasn't so much bait as a lightweight-reting to take a piss in the lake. Most of the night was quiet, which was something, given how much of lead and liquor there was between us. Occasionally something stirred in the water only to end up being a trout or a mosquito. It wasn't until around midnight that something finally started to happen. I was half asleep when the guy squat next to me shook me awake. What's happening? Did we get him?

I asked only for my compatriot to raise a finger over his lips and then point to the lake. appearing through the bush branches I saw something passing through the lake. It's hard to describe what with the beer goggles I had on, but the best I can call it is a shadow. Real weird one though. You ever look at a white wall and notice one spot slightly whiter than the rest? Sort of like that. In the black water of the lake it stood out for being darker than all the shadows.

your eyes couldn't quite focus on it either the edges all blurred together as if trying to melt into the shadowy waters those dark depths were far too bright for it it drifted to the waterfront at a snail's pace from that i knew it wasn't no ghost that thing had some weight keeping a chain to the lake floor didn't change the fact i still had no idea what i was seeing none of us did even drunk The sailors like we were and no one thought to fire at the shadow. Curiosity, confusion, and a symbol of fear kept our eyes aimed at the water. Eventually it drifted into the shallows and started rising from the water. First thing I saw was that fishbowl stuck to its head.

The iron was rusted dark and covered in green gunk that had grown into its crevices. The window glass, however, was in remarkably fine shape. You couldn't find a single crack on any of them. And inside, you'd make out the dark water trapped inside the suit. As a rose, you could make out more and more of the suit. And while it was old as dirt, it was in good shape, all things considered. Even the air tube was in perfect condition, stretching back into the murky depths. The suit rising from the lake wasn't something any of us expected to see.

Fear worked its way through us, even though. in the depths of our stupor, and we all froze like deer in headlights. I, for one, wasn't entirely sure I wasn't hallucinate until I saw everyone else's reaction. Even that, I couldn't do much. When you see something impossible, everything you think starts sounding stupid. I only knew that I didn't want the thing to notice me, and if that meant hiding in a bush like a pansy, so be it. The mindset I'm pretty sure was shared with only one. one exception.

Ha! The boy we sent out his bait, sad as the suit trudged towards him through the water. Now that, that's right there funny. Where'd you guys even get a fucking whatever suit? A laugh followed quickly after his words, but nothing motivated him to move. I wish I could say I wanted to scream at the boy to move. In actuality, I was glad the diver took a liking to the poor fool. Better him than me was my thought.

The diver stopped when it was standing right in front of the boy. He was still laughing his stupid little head off and gave no struggle against what happened next. The diver reached behind it and drew a strange-looking knife made from a strange metal I'd never seen before. It had been poorly carved, given it jagged edges and vaguely carved back like the hook of a fang or canine. The face was black, but leagues more so than obsidian and like. When he looked right at it, the blade's features vanished into its dark face. It almost didn't look like a blade, but rather a chunk of the night's sky, somewhat cut out and shaped. Weird as that blade was.

Didn't seem to knock the boy back to his senses. He just kept laughing and laughing, even as the diver raised the knife over his head and drove it down into his heart. It wasn't quite what I imagined it would be. In movies, you see Blood Fly Earth. everywhere and someone making all these garbled sounds when they get stabbed, but not that boy. His whole body went rigid as the knife went in and that was about it. A moment later he slumped against the shoreline and just stopped moving. Nothing more.

It was honestly chilling. The driver wasn't finished with him though. It carved its way through the poor kid until it cut open too massive. holes in his chest and rib cage. It flung all the shards of bones over his shoulder and ended the lake like scrapped not worth a second thought. It wasn't until it had a perfect view of the boy's lungs that had finally stopped. Reholstered the blade.

It slowly lifted him from the chest, handling them with care like they were newborn babes. That loan would have been more than enough to scar my memory, but it was forgotten after what happened next. The diver reached up and began unscrewing its helmet, water exploding outward as if from a broken pipe. Not sure what I was expecting, but it was at least something human. Maybe a zombie, like blowed a bill with pale swollen cheeks and eyes shriveled up like raisins. Instead, I saw a true monster. I don't want to say it was like a fish. It had sickly scale. It had sickly scale. fins and even those dead glassy eyes like one. But there was something wrong about it.

And it wasn't just that it was wearing a diving suit. The face looked like a ill-fitting mask, as if it didn't sit right on the bones. I think it was too small or something. Yeah, that was that. The face was too small and gruesomely stretched over its skull. Any moment now it would break and tear open, I swore. That wasn't what stopped it, though. Seconds after it took the helmet off, its gills started flaring and gasping for water.

I heard what sounded like gasps coming from it as its eyes bulged in desperation. Part of me hoped it would suffocate then and there, but it seemed ready for that. It raised the lungs over its head and opened its jaw wider than I thought was possible. rows of needle-like teeth clistened in the moonlight before flattening themselves against pale gums. Then it dropped the lungs into its mass of mons, swallowed them in one bite. I saw them bulge through the skin of its neck before disappearing into the suit. Even that I could see something moving, rearranging in its chest as water within. The creatures seemed to be struggling at first, looking like it got something caught.

its throat before the churning within it stopped. Then that creature took a long, deep breath, came a mangled voice from somewhere in its gullet. Not sure why that did it for me and not seeing that thing rip out a man's lungs. Just a part of me thought that despite everything that thing couldn't stay up here for long. I even saw it choking on the air. I figured it'd have to go back to the depths and took comfort in that idea.

Never would have guessed how wrong I was. I'm pretty sure I fired first. Can't be certain, though, because the rain of bullets that came was pure chaos. The forest ignited his every last man opened fire with everything he had. Iron shredded the water's surface, but that thing was far tougher.

Bullets simply bounced off at scale like they were tic-tacks. I didn't think I knew we were shooting. gnat it at one point because for a split second all it did was stand there staring like it was curious i think like a child with a new toy a toy that breathed i'm not sure what would have happened if it wasn't for the lungs whatever that creature did i don't think it'd been perfected yet it sucked in a few more breath's air before it suddenly gagged. One wet breath followed another before blood began spewing from its mouth. The creature lurched forward as it violently hacked up the lungs.

He splattered across the ground in a shredded mess full of holes and torn ends. Seconds later, the creature started to gag once again. I smiled, but not for long. Even as it choked, the creature snatched up the shredded lungs and helmet before died. back into the lake. I watched its figure dissolve back into a great shadow before disappearing into the murky depths of Lake Elpo. We fired long after it was gone and only stopped when our clips ran dry.

The silence that followed was the worst I'd ever heard. All eyes were on that boy or what was the left of him. No one knew who he was. That was the worst part. We got him killed and didn't even. know his name. Couldn't bear to drag him back like that. So we all just stayed there until the booze pulled us into sleep. Not me, though. I couldn't take myas off the lake. A hiker found us in the morning and ran screaming for the hills. I don't blame them. If I stumbled across a group of wily

drunks surrounding a body with its lungs scooped out, I'd race out of there too. Cops came no long after that and detained a lot of us, though we were let go in the end. Not a lot of evidence we did the deed apart from just being there, but our stories kept us there for longer than we'd have liked. Many of the boys have been sober enough to remember the whole thing and blabbed about it all over the jail cells. Smart ones, including me, knew better than to talk about monsters to cops. Official story was that us assholes went down to the lake to find bloated

bill only to pass out from the drinking. The real killer then snuck up and butchered the poor boy when he was asleep. Didn't reflect the best on us, which was fair, of all things considered. The killings stopped for a while. I tried to find some pride in that, but I knew it wasn't because of us. Things stayed that way for some time until about a week ago. Her name was Josephine Peterson. She had kids.

Little Tykes begged to look at their mother, but we wouldn't let them. Seeing their mama like that, guts pulled out like a slaughtered mule. Wouldn't have done him no good. That wasn't even the worst part. Nesey, Josephine was a cautious woman, and she'd stopped going near the lake the second they found the first body. She'd instead take into the bar to occupy herself. And that's where they found her, some ten miles from the first body. the lake. I don't know a lot right now. Can't say what that thing was, how it did what it did, or

even what it wants. Nothing kills for air alone. Whatever reason it's doing all this, I don't care to find out. I'll be moving out within the week. My sister has the place I should be able to hunker down in. It's right in the middle of Arizona too. Miles and miles from any lakes, streams, or even puddles. will it do any good? More so than if I stayed, waiting for that thing to come from me. I might not know much, but I do know this. There are no ghosts in Lake Elpo,

but there is something much, much worse. The bonus episode, creepy presents, The Beast, written by Samantha Arthur's, and narrated. By Owen McCune. It happens every year on October 31st, just like clockwork.

Someone in our town goes missing, never making it to November 1st. Sometimes the body is found weeks later. Other times, well, they don't turn up at all. I'm not honestly sure which is worse, because both are pretty traumatizing events for the family. On one hand, they never get closure, but on the other, they have to see what it did to you. Nobody knows what it is or where it comes from. We don't know where it lives the rest of the days of the year or what it looks like.

We're told from the time that we're small, not to look out the window after dark because that's when it comes to choose its next victim, or its prey, whatever word you prefer. I guess to most people it would be strange to trick-or-treat before sundown, but that's how we do it here. School is canceled so kids can enjoy themselves while there's plenty of daylight to burn, going door to door and having parties and hayrides. Once the sun begins to drop behind the horizon, however, that's it. You're inside, nice and cozy with the doors locked and the window blinds closed. People have questioned it before about how we know it's even out there.

It's because we can hear it as it walks the streets, scraping and clawing its way along the pavement. everything is so quiet that there's no mistaking the sound of it either. That heavy, dragging sort of sound as it crests the sidewalk, nails digging in as it tries to decide who it will be this year. There doesn't seem to be a rhyme or reason to the decision that it makes, no pattern that we've ever been able to discern. I've lived in this town for 32 years, and it seems random at best.

There is a persistent rumor that has existed, for years that the town council pre-selects the victim and instructs this person to leave their door unlocked. I always thought, surely there's no truth to that. Surely, it truly is just a rumor. Last year it took a woman from my block named Edna. She was a little older, but friendly, always bringing baked goods around to people when they were sick or feeling down.

She was the first to come by to share her condolences in hard times and headed up several committees in town to raise money for various causes. Nobody had ever imagined it would take someone like her, but it did. When they found her six weeks later on a cold November evening, they had to carry pieces of her out of the woods in plastic trash bags. She had a closed casket funeral, if you get what I'm saying. I almost looked once when I was a kid. Can you blame me? I wanted so desperately to see this thing that walks our streets every Halloween, scaring us. into daytime costume parties and extra locks on our door. I can remember kneeling on my bed,

my room at the front of the house facing the street. My hand was on the cord to the blind, ready to give it a tug when my father burst in and put a stop to it. After that, he installed wooden shutters on our windows, and he would latch them shut from the outside, so there was no risk of me opening one. I couldn't so much as peek, even if I'd wanted to,

and believe me, the compulsion was there. for quite some time. It's natural, I suppose, to be curious, even though you know that it could end up killing you. Dad, I had asked in that crisp November day, standing outside on the lawn watching him install the new shutters. Did you ever know anybody that looked before? Yes, I did, he had answered me, looking down from the ladder he was precariously bounced upon. When I was a teenager, a friend of mine named Aldrin looked once. Couldn't take it anymore. Swore he had to know.

I had leaned up against the side of the house, bricks biting into my back through my sweatshirt, as I stared out at the street, which was now in the daylight of November 1st, unassuming and regular again. What happened to Aldrin? After he looked, I mean. My father had sighed then,

and I knew that sigh well. It means he didn't want to carry on the conversation, but he would anyway. He always sighed like that when he had to do things he really didn't want to be doing, but that were still somehow necessary. Well, kiddo, to tell you the truth, I didn't talk to Aldrin after that. He was never right in the head again. It drove him completely mad.

Whatever it was he saw, well, I sure as hell don't want to be seeing it. A few years after the fact, he tried to kill himself, ended up in a hospital upstate. I reckon he's probably still there, but I'm not sure. He could be dead by now. Thinking about poor Aldrin, standing around in some hospital drooling all day, did a better job than the shutters of keeping me from trying to look again. Even as I got older, I never forgot that story, and I think about it often, even now that I live on my own.

I almost looked Aldrin up once, just to find out what had ended up happening to him, but I ended up leaving it alone. Some things you just need to let go of for your own peace of mind. Sometimes people ask why none of us ever just leave this town, get away before it's our turn to be chosen. I can't really tell you why, to be honest. Maybe we just love living here.

And for 364 days a year, it's not so bad. There's not much crime, a decent job market, and I got my house at a real steel and well below market value. Could be that we're just content to pay a small price for a price, pretty easy living. Or maybe there's just something that keeps us here, unwilling and afraid, but stuck. Not a lot of outsiders move to town, though, I can tell you that. So eventually, our numbers will start to dwindle.

The folks who do come don't really stay long, scared off by stories of the beast and the cycle of murder that happens once a year, like clockwork. All it takes is a little online digging to verify the missing and the dead, and that's more than enough to send the packing. I don't blame them for going, for running as far and as fast as they can. There are a lot of good things about this place, but the one bad thing hovers over us all year long, whether we want to admit it or not. Tonight is Halloween, which means it's time again. Another October has come, and we'll soon be gone. I gave out candy this afternoon and helped judge the costume contest in the town square. I'm not on the town council, but I am friendly with

folks that are. So, I suppose I can tell you that the rumor about them choosing the victim is really just a rumor, mostly. It's not a choice so much as a suggestion. I know who it is this year. I found out today after the contest, though I did find myself rather surprised at the selection. It's nearly midnight now, but I can hear it coming, dragging itself up the street, clawing its way across my lawn. 1156, and I hear it on the flagstone steps that wind through my flower garden. 1157, and it begins to clatter across my porch. 1158, and there's a hard, persistent knocking at my door.

once twice three times and i braced myself to answer it i think they suggested me because they knew i couldn't keep quiet any longer and for talking so openly to new folks about our troubles here for daring to put out a warning to stay away from this town because if you come and you can bear to stay you will never leave and next year next year it could be you I'm going to open the door now to accept my fate with one minute left despair, and I will finally look upon its face. This thing that haunts us, this beast that comes and goes with all Hallows Eve. You can't ever say you weren't warned. For more information on this podcast, including how to submit your own story for consideration, please visit creepypod.com. You can also follow us at CreepyPod on social media and YouTube.

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