Creepy - Follow the Coastline to the Lighthouse in the Sky

Episode Date: August 5, 2019

It's just a message in a bottle...***Written by Manen Lyset***See how you can get rewarded by supporting the show at Patreon.com/Creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/creepypod***Produced by Steve Blizin, Puzzle Audio***Title music by Alex Aldea***Artwork by Dakota Miller *** 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.

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These stories may contain traffic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. She presents. Follow the coastline to the lighthouse in the sky, written by a man in Lyset. Yesterday, as I was enjoying my evening stroll, I found a bottle bobbing in the waves a few feet from the shore. I noticed there were rolled up papers inside, so I fished it out, peeled the seaweed off of it and inspected it closely.

It didn't look too old. Its label was a bit sun bleached, but I could still make out the name of the winery that had produced it. Curious, I pulled on the cork until it came out with a loud pop, recoiled as a whiff of rotten eggs wafted out of it. Thankfully, the odor dissipated within a few seconds. I turned the bottle over and shook the contents into my hand. The first thing that cut my attention was a sentence written in big, bold letter,

is spelling out, do not come for me, with the not to underline several times for emphasis. I waited until I got back home before I read the rest, if only because it was a little dark, and unlike the bolded warning, the rest of the text had been written in smaller cursive script. I was going to need my good reading lamp and glasses. I'll get right into it and abstain from giving my opinion on the content until you've had a chance to hear it for yourself. I'll just tell you it was written in some sort of journal entry style, and the handwriting got progressively sloppier with every subsequent entry.

This is what was written. Entry 1. There's an old legend you'll hear on the shores of Newfoundland that claims if you sail your fishing boat out at midnight and follow the coastline north until sunrise, you might see a lighthouse in the sky. What happens next depends on who you ask. Most people say the water is.

around it are brimming with more fish than you could ever imagine. Some say the lighthouse will become a sort of protector, appearing to you in your times of need to guide you to safe waters. And if you say the moment you see it, you'll be cursed to lead your ship into the rocks. I've heard the stories ever since I can remember. It seems like everyone knows someone who knows someone who's seen a lighthouse in the sky.

And I've always wanted to see it for myself. I know. I know. It's probably just a silly urban legend, but tonight I'm going to find out for myself. I've stocked my ship with all the necessary supplies, food and wine. I'm going to turn in early and get a bit of shut-eye before I leave. I set an alarm clock for shortly before midnight so I don't have to worry. I'll write again in the morning. Entry 2.

It's 6.46 a.m. The sun should have risen by now, but I don't see it in the sky. Heck, I don't see anything around here except a dense wall of fog I sailed into about half an hour ago. It's so thick I can't even see the waters below. It's bright out. Bright enough to think the sun did rise, but I don't know how I could have missed dawn. Maybe it goes out without realizing it. Either way, I'm going to keep heading north.

The waters are calm. I'm going to have breakfast and check back later. Entry 3. I'm sitting on the deck of my ship right now, looking at the infamous lighthouse in the sky. It's impossible to miss because the red stripes on its tower and the yellow beacon are the only splashes of color in this fog. There's something so surreal about it. It's just floating in the clouds. Honestly, I never expected to actually find it.

I'm not sure what I'm most awestruck by. It's impressive, colossal-sized towering above me even in the distance. By the way, it seems to levitate in the air. My equipment's gone on the fritz, but according to the last GPS coordinates I marked down in my logbook, I should be nowhere near a registered lighthouse. How would you even register a lighthouse in the sky? I'm about to cast a fishing net.

Let's hope what they say about getting the best catch of your life. Life here is true. Entry 4. It's been a few hours since my last entry. I've been busy checking on my net and trying to get my equipment running again. No luck on either front. It doesn't matter how much bait I set or how many spots I try. The net comes back empty.

And I mean empty, nothing in it. Not a guppy, not trash, not seaweed. Nothing. I've almost noticed there aren't any seagulls around. It's weird. At first I didn't notice it. But the longer I go without hearing their squawks, the heavier their absence weighs on me. There's something unsettling about the silence.

I'm still in range of the lighthouse. It almost feels as though it's watching me. Part of me wants to turn around and go home. But I really want to investigate. I can't risk running my ship to ground. So I'm going to take a closer look at my rowboat. I want to see if I can get under the lighthouse. Entry 5.

Was I wrong about the lighthouse? I'm going to have to backtrack quite a bit. I'm sorry about that. I shouldn't have waited so long to write again. After securing my ship, I packed my food and wind into the rowboat and took off towards the lighthouse. The water looked still and the waves were calm. But there must have been a strong undercurrent because for every meter forward it felt like I was getting pulled back by two. I don't think I ever rode so hard in my life.

I did make progress eventually. And just when I thought about giving up and turning back, I felt a thunk. Columnly shocked when I looked over the side of the roadboat and found sand instead of water. The fog around me lifted just enough to be able to see a tall cliff leading up to the lighthouse. Of course, I realized feeling really stupid all of a sudden. There was no lighthouse in the sky. It only looked that way because the fog was masking the coast. Still, I knew there wasn't supposed to be a lighthouse in the area, so I figured I'd explore a little.

I pulled my rowboat far inland, drinking it all the way to the grass since I didn't know how far the tide could go on this shore. Usually, you'll find a line of seaweed and dead fish delimiting the tide's perimeter. But that wasn't the case here. The beach was cleaner than the photos of those white-sandy dream beach vacations down. south. It was smoother, too. Lacking any of the typical crab holes and nests you'd find on a normal beach, my eyes were in the lighthouse. I was curious to see who was running it, so I took off towards it without bothering to tie down my rowboat. For one thing, I didn't see any footsteps nearby, so I figured it was safe. And for another, there was nothing to tie down, too.

There were no trees, no docks, no man-made structures that I could see, aside from the lighthouse. And I wasn't about to pull my rowboat all the way up the hill. So I left it where it was. As I hiked up to the lighthouse, I wondered about the fog and why it hadn't dissipated yet. Just like the rest of my equipment, my watch had stopped working. But my internal clock told me it was getting to be about 10 a.m. It's rare to see fog past the early hours in the morning, especially this day. dense. I could only see about 10 meters around me and anything beyond that was a blur.

Well, anything except the lighthouse, that is. I could see it clear as day. But hey, that's kind of the point of a lighthouse, isn't it? At the top of the hill I noticed there was no building attached to the lighthouse. You typically find a house for the lighthouse keeper or a museum or something there. But it's not exactly abnormal not to have one. A lot of older lighthouses have living spaces about three quarters of the way up, probably to make it easier on the keeper. Can you imagine going up and down those stairs all day long? I opened the thick steel front door without knocking. Sure, that might seem a little rude, but even if the lighthouse keeper was inside, he or she wouldn't have been able to hear me knock anyways.

The lighthouse interior was hollow, with a long staircase spiraling all the way up to the tower. The lighthouse was so tall I could not but wonder what might happen if someone were to slip and fall from the top step. How long would it take for them to reach the bottom? I made my presence known by making a bullhorn with my hands and shouting into the stairwell.

I didn't hear so much as a peep in return, but I started climbing the tower one step at a time anyways. There was something odd about the lighthouse. Even though I climbed and climbed and climbed I never came across a control room or a living space for a keeper. I didn't see any signage, fire extinguishers, bathroom, trash, or anything to indicate the lighthouse was inhabited. Heck, aside from the structure looking well-maintained, I found no proof that anyone had been here. My lungs burned and my legs ached in protest as I climbed the final step of the stairs up to the defense gallery.

Let me tell you, those last three steps took about as much. much, if not more, willpower, and effort than climbing Mount Freaking Everest. When I got to the very top, I didn't even take a moment to admire the view because I was too busy being hunched over on my hands and knees, panting like an overheated dog in labor. As I stared at the metal mesh balcony beneath me, I could hear the winds sweeping past the lighthouse, as well as the sound of the beacon in the lens room above whirring around in an endless cycle. Like a heartbeat, I pushed myself back up to my feet and took careful tentative steps closer

to the edge, even though the lighthouse seemed to be in good condition. There's no way of knowing for sure whether one misstep would send me plunging to my death. The metal structure produced a few shrieks of protest, but proved solid enough to bear my weight. Now I could get my reward. I peered over the edge to admire the view, but for a split second felt a sinking feeling in my stomach as I failed to spot my ship waiting on the horizon. I'd forgotten to drop the anchor? Had it been boarded by pirates?

Had a rogue wave capsized it? I squinted and looked again carefully, managing to make out its dark silhouette through the dense fog. She was fine, just hiding. I laughed it off nervously. I'd like to say the view was amazing, but all I could see was white. I had any thought before climbing the tower, I would have saved myself a lot of physical exertion.

Why did I expect I'd be able to see anything? I'm too exhausted head back down right now. I wanted to wait here for a bit and hope the fog settles. Maybe the lighthouse keeper will show up at some point. Just when I thought things couldn't get any stranger, they did. It was maybe mid-afternoon when I walked another tour around the gallery. I've been periodically checking to see if the fog had lifted. with no luck.

Unlike my other dozens of rounds this time, there was something different. It was really hard to see him, but someone was standing about 20 meters from the lighthouse. I waved my arms back and forth and yelled at him to catch his attention, but I think my yells were drowned out by the wind. A couple hundred steps separated us, but I was determined to make it down in the lighthouse fast enough to me to whoever was down there. I jumped to steps three at a time, and my enthusiasm quickly turned to exhaustion and eventually slowed my pace.

I really, really, really hoped whoever was out there would still be there waiting. By the time I made it out of the lighthouse, the man was gone. But I hoped I could retrace his steps and catch up to him. This is where things get really weird. I walked approximately 20 meters west of the White House where the man had been standing. No, I'm no archaeologist. but I found what looked like the ruins of a town. There was this large, flat area with a partially collapsed half wall made of stone,

and inside that were smaller house-sized rectangles of varying heights. Everything was covered in foliage, like it had been overtaken by nature decades ago. There's also this disgusting odor of weak old eggs and dirty socks. I deal with fish all day, so my nose can take a lot of abuse. but this was foul. It made my eyes water. I found the epicenter of this stench right in the middle of town. It was an old well covered in climbing vines.

It was so bad I couldn't bring myself to get near it, not that I really wanted to. There was something about it that filled me with dread. I didn't want to have to look inside. As for the man I'd seen, well, if I'd been a hundred, and not a fisherman, I might have been able to track him. But sadly, with the carpet of grass covering everything, I couldn't see any footprints. I wanted to explore the ruins a bit longer, but the smell was unbearable. It was making me dizzy and nauseous.

Distanced myself from the ruins and jog back down to where I left my rowboat. After noticing the scent, it's like I can't shake it. I smell it everywhere. It's faint, but it's still there. I wonder if this is how bloodhounds feel. Does it go away if they find their prey? If that's what it takes, I guess I'll just live with it. Because there's no way I'm going to look down that well.

I feel like I've seen all I needed to see. There's nothing here but an empty lighthouse in some ruins. I want to go back to my boat. But the tide's coming in now. There's no point trying to row out. I'll just exhaust myself for nothing. I'm going to go back to the lighthouse with my food and wine and wait the tide out. I'll wake up in the early hours of the morning and ride it back to my ship.

Hopefully the smell won't reach the top of the lighthouse. Entry 7. Do you ever get the feeling something's wrong without having any logical reason to think so? I was passed out on the top step of the lighthouse stairwell. The night air was too cold to stay outside all night. And I woke up to this re-tingling in my spine. I knew something was wrong. I just knew it.

I stumbled through the gallery door and up to the railing, scanning the white ocean of fog from my boat. She wasn't hard to find what was left of her, at least. She was lighting up her own beacon as bright as the lighthouse. How does a boat in the middle of nowhere catch fire like that? How? It makes no sense, know what to say. I don't even know what to think. I haven't written.

It's probably been days, but it's hard to tell. It's always bright here. There's no sunrise or sunset. It's just bright and foggy. I can't even use the stars to navigate my way home. I'm almost out of food. Been out of wine for a while. I finished that in the second night.

Or at least, I think it was night. After what happened to my fishing boat, I waited for the tide and rode my robo back into the ocean. I had it south. I headed back home. It doesn't matter how much I row, though. I'm always the same distance away from the lighthouse in the sky. It's like I'm tethered to it. Unable to break free.

That stench is still following me. Stand, that smell. I feel like it's getting stronger. I'm drifting. Entry 9. I think this is going to be my final entry. I'm still adrift. still no farther away from the lighthouse.

I'm tired. I'm hungry. The smell is unbearable. It smells like it's right next to me. Maybe I should. I didn't want to look, you know. I wanted to close my eyes and drift off. But it made me look.

I just know it. I looked over the side of my rope. No, nauseous when I saw it just below the waves. The well made of stone. The well that stinks to high heaven. I didn't want to look, but I did. I dipped my head forward and I looked inside me too. Do you know what I saw?

Stairs. Spiral of stairs leading all the way down to the bottom of the lighthouse. And if I strain my eyes just hard enough, I can barely make out my broken, rotting corpse sitting at the very bottom. Real, can it? They didn't say anything about this in the stories. I'm going to send my journal out into the ocean in the hopes it'll reach someone. People need to know the truth. Do not come for me.

Do not try to find the lighthouse in the sky. There's something evil here. Those were the last haunting lines written on the final sheet of paper. I read and reread those words over and over a chill running down my spine. Suffice to say, I didn't get much sleep last night. Whenever I closed my eyes and drifted off, I'd imagine a lighthouse off in the distance. and wake up with a start. I know I shouldn't believe any of this.

Logically, it's probably the locals playing a prank on me. If not a prank, then a bit of bait is an incentive for me to stick around. They know I can't resist a good ghost story. Before you judge and tell me my ego is too inflated, there's a good reason why I think they'd want me to stick around. I'm the only doctor in town, and I was sent here as a temporary assignment. I'm due to move home in a month.

It's hard to get doctors to stick around smaller communities because most of us prefer the comforts of the city. I know I do. People here in the regions, as we call them, go to great lengths to try and swim visiting doctors to take up permanent residence. The topic actually spawned a movie a few years ago, so I can't be blamed for thinking

they might try to hook me with a tale of mysterious skybound lighthouse. But here's the thing. There was no guarantee I'd find the wine bottle. And even if everyone was in on it and trying to incentivize me to stay, they did a pretty piss-poor job of following through with it. I'd asked a few locals about the lighthouse this morning, and while most of them know about it, they all seem pretty nonchalant about it.

I got the impression they didn't really believe in it. It has about the same credence as Bigfoot. If this was a trick, Wouldn't they lay it on really thick? Plus, I can't imagine anyone here taking the time to painstakingly handwrite a story like this and toss it into the ocean, not knowing if and when someone would find it. Seems like a lot of work. Call me stupid, but I feel like checking out for myself.

I've enlisted the help of one of my patients who owns a fishing boat. He kind of owes me a favor. Normally I'd quote Dr. Patient Confidentiality, but since you don't know me or this patient, well, no harm done. Without going into detail, suffice to say this patient might have gotten a certain part of his sensitive, male anatomy stuck in a lobster trap

and called me in the middle of the night to help him out, asking that I treat the matter with the utmost discretion, which I did. He was more than happy to repay the favor. We're leaving at midnight tonight. Hopefully we'll hear back from me soon. For more information, including pictures and videos of the story's total.

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