Creepy - Midnight Lock-Up

Episode Date: September 17, 2018

Those stories your parents tell you just to scare you? Sometimes, they're real?***Written by Jacob Newell with guest narration by Steve Blizin***Please consider supporting the podcast at Patreon.com/Creepypod or creepypod.com/support***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCQ3SrH_3fsROXFAjomKcUtw***Produced by Steve Blizin, Puzzle Audio***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.

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urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened or are simply fabrications is for you to decide. Stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. Creepy Presents The Midnight Lockup, Credited to Jacob Newell. 2.10, 2012. This story began about five days ago, but I've only now just got around to writing it down.

I'll take my time to make sure I share everything with you. And the fact that this whole ordeal has... hasn't once left my mind makes me feel certain that I won't miss any details. It's going to be a very long story. Maybe too long for some people. But I just need some sort of explanation to keep me from feeling insane. I'm hoping that if I write it all down, maybe I or someone else make sense of it.

As little as there may be. Well, I suppose the story actually began 48 years ago. and the only reason I know anything about it is because of my granddad. From the 60s up until the late 80s, my granddad used to work on the ships as a deckhand. He worked on many different ships under the wing of many different captains. And so the sea, being the exciting place that it is, left him with hundreds of stories to tell. When I was a young boy, I continued to ask him to tell me these stories, even the ones I had already heard. Some of them were gruesome.

Some of them were funny. There were even a few sad tales. But one of them was genuinely scary. I remember almost all the stories that he'd share with me, but I think it's obvious which one stood out the most. My granddad was 23 in 1964, and he'd just been drafted onto a ship that was delivering cargo to countries in South America.

There's no different than the other two ships he'd previously worked on except maybe it was a bit bigger. I won't give the real name of the ship, but for future reference, we'll call it the CWS. My granddad began the story by explaining to me just how strange the captain of the ship was. How he was a lot happier and friendlier

than the other captains you'd worked with. But only during the day. Once a clock was nearing midnight, he'd become paranoid, angry, and agitated. the complete opposite of his day-walking self. It'd scurry around the ship, priscally rushing everyone into their private quarters, ignoring any questions they would ask.

Then, just before locking each door, he'd stare into their eyes and plead with them not to try and leave their rooms until the morning came. Almost everybody listened. At this point, I should mention that the captain had an annoying habit that the crew had to put up with. He would sing, Do you want to know a secret by the Beatles?

All day, every day, without fail. That's the only song he'd sing. Even in the night, they'd hear him humming the tune from behind his locked cabin door. After being on the ship for a week or so, all the sailors were beginning to grow more and more annoyed at the actions of the captain. His seemingly split personality,

his constant singing, all of his annoying traits, but most of all, it was the way he locked everyone in their rooms at night, almost as if they were children not to be trusted. That was until one night changed the way they were all feeling. It was the usual time of night when the captain would dart about, clumsily rushing everyone into their cages. But one of the deck hands, JP, had a plan. Earlier on in the day, he altered the lock on his door so that he could open it from inside of his room with ease by using a magnet.

My granddad was told that JP had the intention of getting everyone else out of their rooms for a party on the lower deck. So naturally, we're all excited and ready for a night of drinking. With his ear up against the door, my granddad listened intently to what was going on outside of his room. Over the captain's monotonous pop song droning, he heard a lock snap open in the hushed creek of a lone metal door. Just as footsteps began echoing throughout the empty halls, the humming stopped. As my granddad wince at the door in annoyance, he heard.

All of them heard. Vicious thuds and screams of pain. Howling and scratching at the floor while JP pegged for his, life. His cries were growing fainter, almost as if he was being dragged through the ship, lower and lower into the steel abyss. As the fading remainder of his pain erupted from the halls, my granddad stepped back in horror as all movement outside the door had stopped, and the damp corridor echoed silence. The next morning, as the door snapped open, nobody wanted to step outside. but they had to.

After mustering enough courage, my granddad finally stepped out into the hall as the most putrid odor he'd ever smelt surrounded him. Holding his nose and gagging, he looked around to see a small puddle of what looked like blood and oil mixed together. The only assumption that the crew could come up with was that the inmate simply gotten out and sustained an injury. curious as to what the captain would say they all got ready for a day of work. He sprinted through the foul-smelling hall and onto the upper deck.

Once they arrived upstairs, they noticed the captain was already up there, singing his usual songs if you didn't have a care in the world. In an uproar, crew questioned him on what had gone on the night before. But they didn't get an answer. He just sang. None of them ever saw JP again. In the next three months for the longest their lives, the rest of the time on the ship was dictated by the captain. The crew became quiet and despond as the beetles rained over their eardrums.

The work they once loved had become dreary. The ship felt like a prison. The crew would never question the captain, and none of them would dare leave their room after hours. Till one night, a couple months after what happened to JP, My granddad finally had enough and curiosity got the better of him. He took on the same plan that JP had, except that he was going to be more careful. As my granddad said,

if it was the captain's fault, I needed to know for the sake of us all. It was 2.03 a.m., my granddad finally mustered up the courage to approach the door. He took the magnet and slowly began to ease the lock to the left. A second or so before the first, before the lock snapped open, the humming stopped, and a huge bang echoed violently through the darkness. He forced the door forward with all of his strength, hoping that whatever was out there wouldn't get in.

But nothing tried to. He slowly leansed the door towards him, enough so that he could peer into the dimly hallway in front of him. As he did so, he heard the quiet pitter-patter of something stealthily bounding towards him within the darkness far ahead. the smell came back and filled his room. After taking the moment to gagging into his sleeve, as if out of nowhere, a heavy panting made itself known from just outside the door. After momentarily freezing, he slowly began to react to the situation he was in. I don't know why he did it, or how he got the courage, but he gazed back out into the hallway.

My mind has never forgotten. the look of sincerity and terror on his face as he described me in detail what he witnessed in that corridor. In my granddad's words, There was a four-legged creature that had thick, sharp razor hair that seemed to be coated in oil or tar. I don't know if it was the smell or the fear I was feeling, but it made my vision quite easy for a moment. It gave me the worst pain in the back of my head.

It was on eye level with me when it was on all fours, so I can't imagine how big it would be if it stood upright. It had black hooves on its hind legs, but it had what looked like black clenched human fists on its front legs. Its face was the worst. Where its mouth was were just three holes in the left, right, and center the usual place a smile would occupy. It looked as if it was. If they'd been wrapped to create something resembling a grimace, then joined together by two large slices in between. Its eyes were shaped like that of a cat's, but with a white sclera, all-black pupils, much larger

and turned on their sides. It stared right at me. Eyes widened, open its mouth through hundreds of them. Hazer sharp, dark yellow teeth and let out a deep human shriek. That's when I slammed the door passed out for the night. After that incident, my granddad was never curious again. He still had another two weeks and then he knew he was off to CWS for good. For the remainder of the time there, he stayed silent like the rest of the crew.

Every now and then he'd go to tell someone. one what he witnessed. But he decided it would be best to just stay quiet. Leaving day couldn't come fast enough. And as he hopped off the ship with the rest of the crew, he looked back at the CWS for one last time. As the captain waved off into the distance, singing his song while his crew got to know the ship.

A year or so later, my granddad heard from a friend that the ship had been found off the coast of Argentina, completely abandoned. After that, he never heard anything of it again. My granddad is 71 now, long retired and happy as ever. After I picked a local newspaper up last week, his memory was jolted, and what must have felt like a dream, or a nightmare, made his heart drop. The CWS was docked at an old harbor, not three hours away from where he lives.

is being used as an attraction to bring a bit more money to the area. I was sure that my granddad would see it as a tour of his worst fears, but, nonetheless, he looked at me, almost instantly, and said, We have to go.

So we did. 610, 2012. There was only a few days after noticing the opportunity in the newspaper that me and my granddad finally decided to go and experience a CD, and all her former horror. We gathered everything that we would need for the trip and set off in the early hours of the morning. By the time we'd arrived at the harbor, it was nearly midday. We headed towards a nearby cafe for some lunch.

I'd like to think that we were both hungry enough to merit a meal, but I had the feeling that we were just stalling for time. We took a table with a window view so that we could admire the ship for as long as we wanted before going in. A granddad seemed so distant as he looked up at that rusted metal monolith. His eyes opened wide as if trying to pierce the steel.

In his fixation, he barely spoke a word for a good 20 minutes or so. After the food we had hardly touched when it cold, finally loosened his gaze and faced me, I'm ready to go in, he said. He heading towards the float. structure, I began to realize how nervous I seemed to be, sweating wildly as huge metal butterflies

crippled my stomach. Yet I had no reason to feel this way. I suppose the story had a bigger impact on me than I thought. We trudged through the puddles and black lands surrounding the harbor until we finally hit the pier. Looking over at my granddad, he seemed to be more relaxed than I had anticipated. We climbed the stairs up towards a huge metal door on the right side of the ship and approach the ticket barrier. A granddad, being over 60, many only had to pay two bucks, whereas I had to pay full of mission. Not a bad price for brain deteriorating nightmares. Then, with a couple of deep breaths and what seemed like infinite hesitation, we stepped on to

the CWS. Once inside, we slowly made our way to the top of the ship to look around. It took me only a moment to realize how safe and well kept it looked after all. all these years. So I began to relax as the images of a dark, damp ghost ship subsided in my mind. We started off upstairs and had the intention of making our way down to the Orlob deck. But after a second look at the small leaflet that had been handed to us, I noticed that we could only experience half of the ship.

The bottom three decks had seemingly disappeared off the map, leaving us with only part of the experience. though I'm sure my granddad didn't mind after all that it happened. After revisiting a few of the old stories you told me as a child, we finally decided to leave the quarter deck and head down the stairs to the next floor. Up until now, we'd only seen three other people wandering about on the ship with us. We just assumed that there were others on the lower decks. But once we went downstairs, there were no other people in sight.

This deck seemed dirtier, and I didn't have any other. anything to offer. It was mostly just empty space and a few metal doors that were sealed shut. Even my granddad didn't have much to say about this deck. Maybe a few cargo crates on this deck. He muttered. That was it. We reached the final deck that we were able to explore and made our way down the narrow corridors ahead. Looking left and right, we could see nothing. Every door seemed to be locked. and other corridors were completely blocked off. After speeding through a metal maze for nearly five minutes

without seeing anything worth mentioning and already having explored the other two empty decks, I couldn't help but feel cheated out of an interesting experience. And my own money. As we neared the end of the deck, we finally reached a huge door that was actually open. But just as I turned around to express my disbelief, realized that my granddad had not been following me. I stopped in my tracks at the edge of the door and peered down the path I'd walked.

I shouted for a full minute, but he wasn't nowhere around. I know I should have backtracked to find him, but I'd already found an open door and somewhere that was worth exploring. I assumed that he would find me shortly. After all, with all the locked doors and block corridors, there was only one way forward. I stepped inside and scanned the room. It was a huge area with at least 20 tables in and no one. old dirty kitchen. It was clear what this place was, but I couldn't help wondering why everything

was so neglected on this part of the ship when a quarterdeck was so spotless. Maybe this room was meant to be locked too. I made my way into the kitchen and began to look around. Everything was old, damp and rotting. There were still plates on tables and coats on the backs of chairs. It was clear that I wasn't supposed to be in here. As you can expect, I was getting a bad thing. I was getting a bad feeling from the place, so I decided to leave. Just as I turned to exit, I noticed the door on the far corner of the room. I want to approach the door, but I felt like I needed to.

After all, I was probably locked anyway. Dodging tables and various stains on the floor, I slowly made my way over to the corner of the room. I placed my hand on the cold steel, the huge metal handle, and mustered enough strength to pull it down, and then it opened. A huge wall, a damp air, hit me as I they recoiled and coughed into my hands. I examined the darkness to try and make out where I was,

but I couldn't hear or see a thing. At this point, I wasn't sure what to expect. The door was unlocked, so for all I knew, it was part of the tour. I felt my way along the side of the cold wall to try and find a light switch. Then as the lights flickered on, I realized where I was. I was stood at the top of a set of stairs and staring down into puddles of a dim light at the foot

at the steps. Now I knew why the other decks aren't available for viewing. I took the six steps down into the yellow light so I could closer look around to what was hidden on the deck. The dim light showed a miserable labyrinth of cold metal and dripping walls, a rustic case and neglected memories. Once at the bottom of the stairs, I couldn't help but think of the story, the way my granddad described the setting. This all looked very familiar. to the images in my mind. I navigated my way further into the dark. The murky lighting now only as strong as a candle.

This countless drips echoed throughout the domain. I couldn't help but remember the silence from not two minutes ago. Must have wandered further in than I thought. I muttered to myself. That's when I reached a small staircase leading further down into a red glow. I made my way down the stairs and noticed eight days. doors, almost in a circle surrounding me. One of the doors was bigger than all the others and centered at the back of the room. Above it, lit up with a small red bulb was the word, Captain.

It was then that I knew where I was. It was almost exactly how I pictured it, but the fear I felt when imagining it was nothing like when I was there. It was always in the back of my mind that there was a chance my grandad had had just created story from you when I was a child, or maybe even exaggerated, a real experience he had. But now I knew that he had told me the truth all along. With my heart growing cold and pounding faster, I turned to head back upstairs. But I froze. That's when I heard the singing.

Listen, a secret. Do you promise not to tell? Closer. I felt sick to my stomach as the song. I'd go through the halls growing older. It was impossible that this was happening to me. I headed straight back up the stairs. I never ran so fast in my entire life.

Just as I got to the top, I heard a huge bang below, followed by a hideous deep shriek. It carried on spring towards a dim light at the bottom of the staircase that I had so stupidly followed before. My head began pulsating with the worst pain I had ever felt and I started to grow dizzy. As I ran, I could hear a quiet pouncing following me from behind, hitting the puddles and panting heavily. The worst smell hit me as I was almost back upstairs. I knew it was close, and I knew it was real. I reached the top and slammed the door behind me, locking it straight away as I stumbled in the nearby table. Ferocious thud hit the metal.

I picked myself up straight away and headed back down the corridors. I finally found my way out of the maze and back onto the quarterdeck where my granddad stood. I was shaking as I tried to get my words out. He took me off the ship and back into the car. I never told him what happened. And at the time, I wasn't sure if you thought I was joking. Or if I really did experience something. I just wish you was there with me to have kept me from going through that door.

I spoke to him yesterday and told him everything. Thankfully he believed me and had me talking through every little detail Going over it so many times This helped me a lot more than I thought it would I never witnessed what was following me through those halls So I couldn't give you details of its appearance But I know it was definitely the same creature

That terrified my granddad all those years ago After a lot of research and countless phone calls To some of my granddad's old sailor friends we finally found out some information. Apparently, the ship is docked at that specific harbor because the captain was born in the nearby town. In an eight-year run of the ship, he was the first and only captain that the CWS had.

So out of respect, they placed the ship there. Nobody can explain to us how it went missing for 48 years, and suddenly appeared where it is now. He spent five days since I was on the ship, and I'm feeling a lot better than I initially did. That's why me and my granddad are going back to the ship. I know it sounds ridiculous, but we feel like we have to.

Within the next couple hours, we'll be heading back to the CWS. But we're going to the nearby town first to talk to the locals and find out some more information. 10-11, 2012. It's been about three days since we got back from our trip to the CWS and the nearby. town that we'd heard so much about. It took me a while to even process the fact that we were

going back after what happened to me last time. But my granddad seemed keen and I suppose you could say that I needed some kind of closure. After all the research, hassling, phone calls we'd made, it seemed like we had no choice but to investigate further. If only I could have known the story we were digging deeper into, I never would have dreamt of getting involved. We set off on Monday morning and decided to head straight on to the town, having no stops whatsoever. It was just approaching midday as we drove silently past the CWS. Remembering what happened to me and knowing that we'd be back on the ship soon enough gave me the worst feeling in my stomach. The supposed nearby town was actually a fair distance away from where the CWS was docked.

It took almost another half an hour to witness the welcome sign. but we eventually made it, nearing the town, passing by the mounds of unkempt greenery and land. We expected it to be an old, desolate fishing town with a few people inhabiting it. After all, the entire area we had passed up to now is horribly mistreated. Yet, we noticed as we were nearing the area that what we could see up ahead was beautiful. We kept on driving until we reached a little. a small bridge that took us over into the town. And what a town it was.

It was very well kept, and looked as if it got a good bit of business for a seemingly hidden little village. There were rows of shops on either side of us, a small B&B, another harbor that held minuscule fishing boats and a few rows of houses further back that were hidden behind the shops.

I remember looking over at the fishing boats for a moment. Then turning my head to the north to look at the CWS. I felt so small. After we'd gotten over the shock of how nice the town was, we decided to be wise to start looking for information immediately. We wandered the streets, trying to find somewhere that we thought might be useful. And that's when I spotted it.

In the midst of all the bustling shops, there was a small, dark, sweet shop in the far corner. in my vision that caught my eye. I figured that maybe the person who owned the shop would know a thing or two about the CWS or the captain, so we headed on over. At first glance, anybody would assume that the shop was shut. Nobody was going in and it looked as if it hadn't been in business for years. But when we approached the door, the sign told us otherwise.

As we went inside, we were greeted by a friendly old man and looked too frail to even be out of his own house. He gawked at us awkwardly, shaking with every breath, until my granddad finally decided to ask him a few questions. The first of which was, Do you know anything about the ship docked a few miles away? The CWS, anger filled his face. No, he replied.

My granddad asked him another question and gave him the same answer again. He must have said no at least five times, each time getting quicker and louder. Tell my dad couldn't even finish a sentence. We knew he knew something, so we kept pushing the questions until he took a deep breath and wrote something down. Take this and go see his sister. She might talk to you and now leave.

Then he hurried us out of the door and back onto the street. After a quick bite to eat, we set off to find the house written down so that we could talk to the captain's sister. We arrived at a huge house on the other side of the street. the village and knocked on the thick wooden door. A thin old woman opened up with a smile on her face. She said hello and happily invited us inside. It seemed like she hadn't had company in a long time.

Her eyes were glazed over, almost as if she wasn't completely with us. Once inside, I cut to the chase. There was no need in making small talk. She was either going to talk to us or she wasn't. I immediately asked, would you be willing to talk to us about your brother? And to my surprise, she told me she'd love to. I let my granddad ask her the questions

as he knew more about the captain, the ship, the history. He had all the knowledge. So I sat back and wrote on everything that was said in the interview. The first one to speak is my granddad, the second is the captain's sister. So, the captain of the CWS, he was your brother? His name was D.B. And yes, he was.

A wonderful brother, too. Very caring when we were children. Of course, I didn't get to see enough of him when we got older. Being the captain of a ship is very hard work. So when was the last time you saw D.B.? Oh, must have been 53 years ago now. He died sadly. I remembered vividly, September 9, 1965.

How did you find out about his deaths? It had been reported that the CWS had been found completely abandoned off the coast of Argentina. No bodies, no missing life boats, nothing. My brother being the captain, and both of our parents, being dead, I received the call of his death. It was a very sad day for me. He just never knew how to stop it. Stop what? The thing that got rid of them all. They should have just stayed in their rooms. It would have been better for everyone. He wouldn't have felt so guilty, I'd imagine. It wasn't his fault, though.

stop what what are you talking about I know about it you know he told me everything it was on Christmas 1959 that it came back home to visit us he was acting weird the whole time

twitching and mumbling to himself he wouldn't talk to any of us properly all day until he took me off to one side before he was leaving He told me that he'd found something and that it had followed him. Followed him from the sea to the ship, to the land. It just wouldn't leave him alone.

I felt so sorry for him. He mentioned something about thinking that it was all just a fisherman's tale, so he had to find out. Then he kissed me on the cheek and left in a hurry. Later on, when I went upstairs, I seen that he left me his journal on my bed. There was a lot of scribbling in there that hurt me to read. Anything else?

Was that definitely the last time you saw him? That was the last time. I'll always remember it. The fear in his voice when he told me everything that had happened will stay with me until I die. Like I said, he seemed anxious all night as if you'd been followed. He went upstairs to use a toilet. that at one point and everyone downstairs could hear him shriek.

He came down shaking and awkwardly laughing, telling us that he saw something in the mirror. It must have scared him terribly because he was very loud. Do you still have the journal? When we look at it? Take it. It's upstairs in the box under my bed. I've only read it twice.

I don't like the memories. After that, we thanked E.B. and left with the journal. By the time we got out of the house, it was beginning to get dark. So we decided to stay at the B&B for the night and revisit the CWS the next morning. As we strolled down the street, heading for the B&B, could have sworn I heard the same scream I heard on the ship. The echoed in the distance, but it shook me to the bone.

That night I read through the journal when my granddad got his rest. It was interesting, disturbing. sad, confusing. As a child, I had never considered the possibility of the captain being an innocent man, but I did now. I'll update you as soon as possible with what I've found out in this journal, as well as giving you the details of my latest experience on the CWS. I never thought it could get any worse.

But it did. 1020, 2012. It's been over a week since the last time I shared my investigation with you all. And a lot has gone on in that short time. Not only do I have to tell you about all the journal in my last venture on board the CWS, but I also have some news regarding what has happened to me in the last nine days. None of what I'm going to tell you is good news. And it's going to be the last chapter in this ongoing nightmare of mine.

But so you all know right now, There is no happy ending. As I sat in the corner of the room soaked in moonlight, I began to read through the old journal I had been handed by E.B. Flicking through the first 20 pages or so, I could tell that the captain had once been a completely different man than the psychopath had been told about in countless stories. He seemed like a friendly man, easy to get along with.

I could tell that he was excited about his new job on the ship. He said he loved the feeling of being in charge and looking after his crew. And I could tell he meant it. He spent page after page describing the feeling he gets waking up in the morning and breathing in the ocean air, knowing that the rest of his life would be spent at sea. It wasn't until about halfway through the journal that I noticed something that jogged my memory. We docked in Brazil yesterday to drop off cargo at some local businesses. I noticed De Barr not too far from the ship as we were loading it all onto the pier.

We all knew we'd end up there for a few beers, so me and the boys decided to head on down as soon as we were done with offloading. I thought we were only going to have a few, but once you're in the mood, you're in the fucking mood. We'd gone a couple of months without booze and gambling, so we ended up there all night, and most of the morning, too. It was about 2 a.m., and I was playing poker with the bartender's son. and a couple of his fishing buddies. I just won with a full house when one of the guys said, You think we should tell him the tale? They all looked at me, eyes wide open and smiling

as one of them began to tell the story. He said that there was a local myth, a fisherman's tale about a beast called the Kazatrap. It happened about six years ago, and it's been a sailor's worst nightmare ever since. A salmon hunter from the nearby village was out fishing one day looking for his daily produce. He'd been out there from the morning until late in the evening,

and he'd felt like he'd finally found enough. It was pitch blackout, so he decided to make his way home, but in doing so, he heard a loud scream from within the rocks up ahead. At first he assumed that he was hearing things, but then it happened again. From the screaming and the grinding of the rocks, he felt sure that someone had somehow gotten trapped on the rock formation. As he neared the rocks, a huge creature stood up, right in front of him, and shrieked.

He turned his boat around as fast as he could, but it was too late. The creature had already jumped on the boat. That's when he ended the story. I asked him, what, is that it? Apparently, friends and family of the man noticed a huge change in him. He was quieter and more wary of everything around him. He was on his boat a lot more too. Not long after, though, the man killed himself.

For it being the nightmare of every sailor, there wasn't much to the story. But I suppose it was a bit frightening. I thought maybe it was true, but of course it's just a fisherman's tale, so it's most likely bullshit. Although, if I'm ever out at sea and I hear a scream like that, there's no way I'll be going to check it out. After finding that entry in the journal, I was curious to find out more. It wasn't until the last three pages of the journal that I found something that made me shiver.

It actually happened. I don't know why it happened to us, but it did. We got caught in a storm last night, so we all had to pitch in. All of us were working hard on the quarter deck when one of the crews said that he heard something strange. We all laughed it off and joked about him for hearing things. But then it happened again. At first I thought it was the radio. The Beatles were playing, and we were all singing along,

so every other sound was drowned out, but not this. We all heard it this time. It was an almost human shriek. I immediately thought of the story of the hazard trap, but it couldn't have been. It was a myth. I looked over the right side of the ship and could just make out a shadow on some rocks.

It looked up at the ship on all fours, screamed, then dived under the water. Again, we all heard the scream, but this time it was from the left side. We all made our way to the other side of the ship, and there it was. Up on its hind legs and followed us with its bright white eyes. It jumped from the fucking rocks right onto the ship. I don't know how, but it did. We looked it in the eyes. as its mouth uttered words under its breath.

I couldn't believe it actually spoke. It was some kind of language none of us could understand. It sounded like hundreds of voices merged together. Some talking, some screaming. After that, I was stood there, watching my entire crew being ripped apart. I just fucking stood there. I couldn't move.

It was so effortless. I watched it punish them, biting and ripping and throwing. After it was all done, it charged it me, pin me down, screaming in my face. It shoved some of the flesh hanging from its jaw into my mouth. I vomited, looked into my eyes and growled. Afterwards, it charged right down to the bottom of the ship. I could hear the banging and feel the tremors all through the steel. I'm on my own.

I just don't know what to do. After I finished reading the journal, I felt that I could make much more sense of the situation. Not everything was documented, but we had more information and could assume the answers to some of our lingering questions. I thought to myself that the captain had become a part of the ship because the Kazza trap wouldn't allow him to leave.

He was almost like a pet. He would lock the crew away every night so he could save them from being killed. I wasn't a bad person at all. I thought to myself about the song I'd heard on the ship. Was he still alive? Was he bound to the CWS and being kept there by the Kazatrap? This is the reason I had to go back to the ship.

I couldn't live with myself knowing that I'd let an innocent man suffer. The next morning I told my granddad that we should just leave everything and go back home. He didn't seem to mind. He was old and tight. He'd gotten to go back to the CWS and that was enough for him. I drove him back home and told him I'd come to see him tomorrow. And as soon as his door closed, I took the same long journey back to the ship. With sheer determination and no fear, I clambered up the stairs, bought my ticket,

and made my way onto the deck. Once again, it was completely bare. It must have been five people on board at most. I sat off down the stairs and into the maze of corridors I'd navigated before, but it was a lot quicker this time. As soon as I headed into the room and faced the door in the corner, that lack of fear I had ten minutes ago had now been replaced with heavy breathing, trembling, and a sickly feeling in my stomach.

I slowly made my way over to the door and placed my trembling hand on the lock. Then, just as I pulled on the handle, the huge metal door flung back and hit me in the face. face. I hit the floor and almost immediately fell unconscious. Not before I felt a hand grabbed me by the leg and dragged me down the stairs into the darkness. Afterwards, I woke in a dirty room lying on an old bed. As soon as I opened my eyes, it was there, just staring at me from the other side of the room. It was on all fours and kept edging towards me, then taking a step back and screaming.

I stared at it and felt as if I was staring death in the eye. I'd never been so scared in my life. Its jaw jutted outwards in the same voice that sang the song I heard came out of its tattered mouth. The captain had not still been alive. It was the Kazatrap all along. I questioned myself on what it would want with me. But the only thing I could think was that.

said it wanted me dead. It slowly moved towards me, grabbing me by the head and showed me its sharp yellow teeth. Then in a voice too dark to be human, it whispered. After that it let me go. It just let me walk out of the room and back off the ship. I haven't been the same since. And it definitely wasn't worth it for the few answers that I've gotten. How much truth can you find out about a myth? a legend, folklore, whatever it is, my house for the past week trying to get the courage to write all this down because I knew I'd have to go over it all again. It may have let me leave the ship,

but it will never leave me alone. I can still hear the voices of a hundred dead men, and sometimes it will appear to me. Whether it's outside my window or waiting from me as I turn around, it's always standing there, staring me down. It has only attacked me a couple of times. So I know it doesn't want to kill me. This will be the last time you hear from me.

This is my final update. Thank you all for your time. I can deal with what has to be done from here on out. I finally know what to do. I forgot to mention, however, Then I took another look at the captain's journal yesterday. I found a page that was stuck to the back of the book. When I peeled it back from the cover,

there was one more sentence scribbled down on the dirty yellow page. Ending it all is my only option. I'm so sorry. Please, forgive me. For more information, including pictures and videos of the stories told. on this podcast or to suggest stories for future episodes, please visit us. At Creepypod on Twitter, Instagram. All stories told on this podcast can be found at creepypasta wikia.com

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