Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - I am a Deep Sea Welder, what I saw in the ocean will haunt me forever

Episode Date: December 3, 2021

🎧 Check out my new True Crime podcast here: https://spoti.fi/3nIcpKY 🎉 Ad-free episodes + bonus episodes: https://www.patreon.com/drnosleep 🎥 YouTube: https://youtube.com/c/DrNoSleep ✅ Advertising Inquiries: [e-mail] Written by Travis Brown DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content. Parental guidance is advised for children under the age of 18. Listen at your own discretion. #drnosleep #scarystories #horrorstories #doctornosleep #truescarystories #horrorpodcast #horror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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Rigolet. Publied. Savoor. Ammire. And profite. Via Raille, the voice that we love. Talk to nicely. Hey guys, I want to give a quick shout out to Not Konsti and Demia for recently signing up as Patreon members.

You three now have full access to my ad-free podcast episodes, along with all bonus episodes I've posted over the past six months. If you'd like to receive access as well, go on over to my Patreon page at patreon.com slash DR No Sleep to sign up. That's patreon.com slash DR. No Sleep. I've seen plenty of strange things in the years I've spent as an underwater welder. But this morning was the first time I saw a face in the deep. My partner Roger and I were doing regular maintenance checks at 25 meters. I was using my camera more than my torch, just cataloging anywhere in tear on the oil rig's legs. Cold Atlantic currents have teeth and will start to saw a wall.

way its structural integrity awfully fast. I'm not sure why I turned away from the rig to look down. Maybe there was a sound. Maybe I sensed a presence. There was a white face staring back up at me from the depths. We had decent light from the surface at that level, so I got a good look. The face was unusually flat with small, sharp features. Doll-like, I guess you could say, uncomfortably human. morning and I couldn't get a clean view of its body. Not a diver was the main thing my brain registered. It was too long, too graceful. I estimated the creature was about 10 meters deeper than I was initially. When it noticed my attention, it flipped and dove faster than any animal I'd ever seen. In the instant before it disappeared, I jammed on the camera shutter and took a picture.

For a few moments, I simply floated there in the world. the cold water, staring at where the face used to be like I was trying to find an echo. I signaled to Roger that we should surface. He signaled back an affirmative so we started to ascend. If he've never been diving before, 25 meters is near the maximum depth for no decompression limit dives. You can hang out for a good while at 25 to 30-ish meters and still ascend to the surface without stopping to decompress. Although you still don't want to swim up too fast, any depth's greater than 40 meters for more than a few minutes, and you're going to need to stop on the way up to off-gas or risk a vicious case of the bends. Roger had to keep signaling me

to slow down as we headed up. I was a little too eager to get out of the water to the point where I was pushing safety limits and our training. Once we got back to the rig, I scrambled out of my gear, casting looks back into the water every few seconds, just in case something followed us up. I saw something down there, I sputtered when Roger approached. I shed my air tank and started hopping on one leg, trying to get my fins off.

Roger again motioned for me to calm down. He was a much older and experienced diver. He sported a gray beard, and his eyes were a maze of crow's feet from years of squinting through harsh Atlantic winds. Take a breath, Tommy, he said. Easy, easy, easy. I inhaled. There was something watching us underwater. Like a fish?

No, not a fish. Here I took a picture. I pulled out the underwater camera and beckoned Roger closer. The image was the first up in the gallery. Either the creature was moving when the shutter went off, or my hand was shaking because all that was pictured was a pale blur against the dark water. I think you should get some rest, Roger suggested, patting my shoulder. I didn't disagree. I woke up to the sound of somebody choking near me.

It was pitch black inside crew quarters, and I got tangled in my blankets as I rolled out of my bunk. What's going on? I heard someone call out. Keep it down. I'm trying to sleep, damn it. Another voice replied. The choking was coming from a bed one row down for mine. Before I could ask if the occupant needed help,

I heard more gurgling sounds from the corner. Hey, what the hell? Somebody shouted. A light was flicked on. The choking stopped all at once. People sat up in their bunks, rubbing their eyes and throwing out curses. Is anyone heard?

I yelled. There was lots of grumbling, but everyone seemed fine. There was no indication of what caused the strange noises. I glanced over at the first bed that I thought was the source of the gurgle. A man named Murphy, one of the drillers, was sitting up straight, eyes fixed straight ahead. You okay? I asked. He turned towards me. I wasn't too familiar with the guy, but I could tell he looked sick.

Murphy was pale. His skin, waxy, and eyes bloodshot. shot. But he nodded when I repeated my question. Then he curled up in bed and went back to sleep. Others were doing the same. There didn't seem to be any immediate danger, so I also put my head back down. The last thing I saw before somebody killed the light was a shallow puddle under Murphy's bunk. I spared a second to wonder if one of the rig's windows were leaking before I fell back asleep. There's something wrong with the crew. I've noticed it over the past few days. It's like an illness sweeping through us, but that's not quite right. Those infected have a

washed out look, graying skin, and cloudy eyes. Their faces become bloated as they move, I guess. Unevenly would be the way to put it. Like they're not used to walking. It's the weirdest damn thing. But even stranger is that none of them will acknowledge. it. Roger was the latest victim of whatever was hitting the rig. I found him at the edge of the deck, looking out over the ocean. The weather was turning November nasty, clouds crashing on the horizon just like the waves chopping at the rig. Doesn't seem like a good morning for a dive, hey? I asked, carefully approaching my friend. Roger turned, and I had to resist a sudden urge to push him off the deck. The man's wrinkled skin was practically melting. His blue eyes were blood.

and there was a twitch in his cheek like he was trying to smile or show his teeth but couldn't quite figure it out. The only reply I got from him was a partial nod. Then he went back to watching the water. I decided to take the day off and went to check out the medical ward. The doctor was nowhere on site when I arrived at the sick pay. In fact, the room was deserted. Whatever illness seemed to be spreading among the crew, wasn't making them bedridden yet. I plopped down on the nearest bunk and tried to come up with a plan. By my estimation, nearly a third of the crew was affected by the strange sickness in the last three days. Oddly enough, the illness seemed most prevalent among supervisors and senior crew compared to the rest of us working schmucks.

Could a virus be elitist? Why wasn't anyone sick acknowledging that something was wrong? I saw nervous looks among other members of the crew, but nobody wanted to be first to make a ruckus. I decided to take a sleeping pill so I could relax. The mystery plague could wait. Maybe someone else, someone with authority would get their shit together and deal with it so I didn't have to. Sleep came quickly. The darkness was comfortable and silent. A shriek tore me back into the waking world. It was black outside of the infirmary's window. I could tell there was a a storm. Rain fell against the glass. The screen came again from somewhere on deck. I raced up the stairs and opened the door. I was greeted by a nightmare. People were snarling and fighting

and begging and struggling all around me. I watched one of our cooks wrestling with a monster. The creature was bone white, roughly the size of a child, and its body reminded me of a human mixed with an eel. Its face was flat, with pitted eyes and a slit nose. It was also familiar. I'd taken a picture of an abomination just like that only a few days ago. Before I could help the chef, the creature succeeded in prying the man's jaw open. I heard the snap of tendons breaking as his mouth was forced wider than it was ever meant to go. The cook tried to scream, but it only came out as a choking noise. Then, faster than my... my eye could follow. The creature somehow compressed itself until it could slither inside the man.

More choking ensued as the chef fell to the death. He lay still for a moment in the rain, then stood up with a glazed look in his eyes. Similar scenes played out across the storm last rig. I saw dozens of the albino creatures crawling up the side of the structure, using their small arms and tails to come out of the ocean. Men fought back, but again and again, the The monsters ripped jaws open and pushed themselves into the crew. Those who were infected turned against their friends and helped the abominations. One of the creatures was squirming on deck near the drill site. It locked eyes with me and began to crawl over with inhuman speed.

I took a step back, almost falling, then slammed and locked the door between the deck in the infirmary. A moment later, something slammed into the metal. Several creatures were trying to get in. I hope you won't judge me for what I did next. If I was a braver man, maybe I could have fought my way to the communications room, barricaded the door, and called for help. But the thought of facing any of those monsters, or worse, my former co-workers, was too much for me. So I made my way back below deck towards one of the diving rooms.

I tensed up at every intersection I crossed, every open door I passed, waiting. to feel small arms wrapping around my neck or forcing my jaw wider and wider and to... Stop thinking, I told myself, just act. I had the edges of a plan in mind. If I couldn't save my friends, if the rig was lost, then the best thing I could do for them was to wipe it from the ocean. I made it to the diving room and sealed the door. We had small charges on board for emergencies and offside excavation.

They were weak, but any kind of... of explosive on an oil rig is dangerous. Alone, they might not be enough to cause catastrophe, but combined with a few tanks of oxygen placed directly against the pipeline, I could create a hell of a boom. I was going to turn that oil rig into a fucking Roman candle. It only took me a few minutes to assemble my impromptu bomb and gear up in my diving suit. I opened the bay door and began to climb down the ladder towards the surface, carrying the attention to the explosives and two oxygen tanks while rain and wind slammed into me was brutal but somehow I made it down to the surface. Waves reached up towards me as I tossed the bundle into the water

and jumped in. There's something serene about diving during a storm. Once you're deep enough below the surface, the water is calmer, the world suspended. The main issue with bad weather is a lack of illumination. I turned on my light and began to maneuver myself and my bomb towards the center of the oil rig and its vulnerable pipeline. I was passing by one of the platform's immense metal legs when I felt something grabbed my own ankle. I kicked back and connected. The force around my ankle released and I surged forward. But then another hand wrapped around my leg, then a weight was on my back, then another. I broke the first rule of diving. I panicked. If air came loose or was blocked, I was a dead man.

A face swam out of the darkness and pressed itself against my mask. Pale, black-eyed, and so close to human that it made my stomach drop. I managed to push it away, but the action caused me to drop my flashlight. As the beam fell through the darkness, it spun, and I saw them. Thousands of flat, hungry faces looked up at me from below. The creatures squirmed together in a horrible, white, mass like maggots in a raw wound. A wave of the monster surged towards me, and I felt my body dragged down into the dark. That was when I knew I would die. Even if I broke free, I was too deep

to make it to the surface before they caught me again. Decompression would rip me apart, bubbles bursting inside of my veins while the nitrogen flooded my body. My final thought as the blackness closed in, was that there were worse ways to die, and at least I would have. I would go out as myself. I woke up on the shore naked and exhausted. It wasn't a familiar coastline. There were cliffs and rocks in water. A small lighthouse poked up from the skyline, like a lonely tooth. That's where I headed, one leg dragging in the sand. I didn't seem to have full control of my limbs, but I'm in much better shape than I should be. No sign of the bends. My mind is a little fuzzy, My jaw aches.

And my stomach is, bloated, I guess, is one way to describe it. Bloaded worse than I've ever felt. But they're taking good care of me at the lighthouse. They've even called for a doctor. I don't know why they all look so worried. I keep telling them I don't have the bends. Lazzang sur-gely,

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