Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - Invaders From the Deep

Episode Date: May 25, 2022

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The voice that we love that we love. Talk to nicely. I look at the pile of mutilated bodies in the submarine's control room. The gorge is rising in my throat. Blood covers much of the equipment and instrumentation in the room. The bodies are so hacked up and mangled that I can't recognize. any of them. And before I can investigate further, I sense movement nearby. A man stands about 15 feet away in the open hatchway leading to the sonar room. It's dark in there, so what I see is

shrouded in shadows. The first thing I notice is that something is wrong with his ears, like they have some strange growths about the size and shape of golf balls. His mouth is open in an O shape, but it looks like he's holding something round between his lips, something that seems to The structure of his face is distorted somehow. It's not the shape of a normal human face. There are strange ridges and bumps all over, and I'm almost certain that his eyes are covered in some of these strange growths. I take all this in quickly, the adrenaline spiking through my body.

So when I notice that the thing standing on the other side of the hatchway is holding a navy-issue combat knife, I turn and run. I jump through another doorway, one designed to separate compartments in case of a breach. And I'm just about to close the door when someone calls out to me. A man appears from an adjacent doorway. A man I know is Clemens. What's going on? He calls. Come on. I say. What's going on? He says again. Look behind you. Clemens turns and sees the thing with a knife coming down the corridor. He takes one look at it and runs toward me, hopping through the hatchway so I can shut the door. They've gone insane. Clement says as I turn the handle to seal the door.

door. There's something wrong with them. Their faces. I saw. They're not themselves, I tell him. It's not your run-of-the-mill insanity. Something else is happening. I feel the handle move. Find something to jam this up, will you? I say to Clements. That thing is trying to open the door. What if there are more on this side? He says, one thing at a time, I say. Clemens, a kid of maybe 20, nods his head and goes off to find something for the door. The handle moves again. And this time it feels like there's more than one person on the other side. I don't know how much longer I can hold it.

Hurry up! I call. Still holding the handle with all my strength, I glance over my shoulder. Clemens is coming down the hall with a large wrench in his hands. I see movement behind him. Just the shoulder of someone following closely. There's someone behind you! I yell out.

It's okay, Clemens says, moving slightly so I can see the face of the man following him. It's Borell. a sonar technician, and his face looks normal. I breathe a sigh of relief, allowing myself to relax slightly. As soon as I loosen my grip on the door's handle, it is yanked out of my hand and starts spinning quickly. The door unsears and starts to open, but I reach out and grab it, struggling to pull it back into place.

Clemens and Borel join me, and we're all three pulling on the door, fighting against the forces on the other side. We spin the handle and work hard to keep it spinning until the door, door is secured. Clemens picks up the wrench that he dropped and jams it at an angle between the handle and another metal door component, essentially locking the door for now. We step away from the door, panting and sweating. What the hell was that all about? Borel says. What's going on?

I don't know, I say. Something's wrong with one or some of the crew. What do you mean something? What's wrong with them? Their faces are all messed up, Fleming says. Not normal. Someone killed a bunch of people in the control room, I say. I saw the bodies. Burrell looks at the wrench stuck in the door. Whatever is on the other side is still trying to turn the handle, but it's not budging.

He sits on the ground. You think this has something to do with the weird stuff we experienced yesterday? He asks. I had the same thought. We'd been on a routine patrol when all the things. the instruments started going haywire at once, something that is nearly impossible under normal circumstances. We'd been pretty deep, 1,500 feet or so, and had some anomalous readings right before everything went crazy. Or at least that's what I heard. I wasn't on shift at the time.

Apparently, the sub had gone blind. We couldn't tell how deep we were, where we were, or even whether we were moving. But Commander Ryan had kept his cool and started diagnostics on the various systems to figure out the problem. Still, it wasn't an all-hands emergency. So I'd gone to sleep along with the rest of my shift. I'd awoke into an eerily quiet boat

and made my way to the control room. That's when I found the dead bodies. I'd say it's a pretty good bet that it has to do with the weird stuff that happened yesterday. But there must be more of us here. It's just not possible that nearly 140 people have been killed. I don't buy it. There'd be bodies everywhere. It's a big ship, but let's check the bunks, Clemens says. See if anyone is back there. I don't suppose either of you can get

into the small arms locker, can you? I ask. Both men shake their heads. Okay, let's go, I say. Burrell, stay here and keep an eye on this door. If anything happens, give us a shout. Borell doesn't look like he's fond of the idea, but he stands up and nods his head anyway. Clemens and I head back to the bunks and start opening the navy blue curtains obscuring the beds. We check eight bunks before we find anyone. Morton's here, Clemens says. I turn around and see Morton, curled up in a fetal position in his bunk. His eyes are wide, staring blankly through us.

What the hell happened, Morton? I ask him, shaking him. His eyes shift up to my face, but they're still blank with what I suspect as shock and disbelief. They let them in, Morton says. Before any of us knew what they were doing, they let them in. Who? Who let what in? I ask. Commander Ryan in the X-O. They flooded the escape trunk and opened the hatch to let them in.

There's nothing we can do, nothing. We're stuck in this tin can with them. Where's everyone else? Clemens asks, where's the commander? Gone. Morton says. They're fucking gone. He's lost it, I say.

Let's look for more. Burrell's screams cut my words off. Both Clemens and I look toward the sound. I know instinctively that Burrell is in serious trouble. The scream was one of tremendous pain. See? Morton says. He reaches out and pulls the curtain closed over his bunk,

determined to wallow in his insanity until they find him. whatever the hell they are. As the noise of footsteps drifts down the hall toward us, I know we need to move. Let's go, I say to Clements. If we can get to the mess, we can arm ourselves with knives. It's better than nothing. And we both make our way past the bunks,

past the empty officer's wardroom, through the dry storage area and into the mess. We each select a kitchen knife quickly, the sound of footsteps following behind us. The closest sealable compartment is the torpedo room. Not only is it the closest place to seal ourselves in, but there's also a slim chance that one of us could escape through a torpedo tube. Not both of us, but one. And that would be a last resort.

But it seems that we're closing in on a last resort scenario pretty quickly. The torpedo room door is closed, so we have to open it. And as we do, Borel and several other figures appear behind us. I'm busy opening the door, but Clemens sees them coming. Oh my God! He says. It's Borel. They got him.

Hurry! I can hear the footsteps coming, but I can't risk to glance back. It would waste precious seconds. I get the door open and let Clemens go first. Then I step in, and as I close the door, I glimpse back at Borel,

only it's not him anymore. His face is swollen and bumpy, as if a bunch of smooth pebbles of various sizes have been shoved under the skin of his face. His mouth is open, holding a round object, And I realize that it's an eye, about twice the size of a human eye. It's bloodshot and has a modelled red and black iris around the staring pupil.

The other eye seemed to have grown out of his ears. All three of them are staring at me. Burrell's own eyes are swollen shut with the bulbous configurations under his skin. I get the door closed and spin the handle as quickly as I can, sealing it shut. Clemens appears by my side with a socket wrench and a spare hydraulic tube. both of which we shove into the door to keep the handle from moving. Let's get you out of here, I say, running over to a torpedo tube to open it. What? Through a tube?

Clemens says. There should be a survival suit in here somewhere. Find it and put it on. You're insane. I'll never survive. We're too deep. Clemens, I say. Do you think you'll survive if you stay here? This way, at least you have a chance. I hold a lever to open the torpedo tube's interior door. Once it's open, I step around to look inside. Something small jumps out at me.

On reflex, I duck, and it sails over my head to land on Clemens. I turned to look at the thing as it scurries up from where it landed on his lower abdomen. It's about the size of my hand, and looks like a cross between a starfish and a squid. It has five arms, each ending in sharp tips made of some kind of shell-like material. Aside from these little tips, its skin is clear enough to see the little red, in blue veins inside its body. The five arms extend from one bulbous central section, in which there are three spherical objects suspended in the jellyfish-like goo of its body. Clemon screams and tries to hit it off, but the thing is too fast, scurrying like a spider

around to his back and up his neck to the back of his skull. He turns around, still trying to rip the thing off him. I watch in horror as the thing stabs three of its arms into his head, Two of them, just behind the ears and one of them at the base of his skull. Clemens suddenly stops moving. His hands drop to his sides, and he straightens up, still facing away from me. The three spherical objects shift inside the creature's body, splitting up and moving down the three arms embedded in his skull. As they reach the areas where the arms narrow and enter his head,

the objects elongate, squeezing through. I suddenly realize that those are the eye-bring, balls. Two of them are going to his ears and one to his mouth, traveling through the thing's arms. The other two arms enter his head just behind the temples, sliding around the front of his face, deforming the skin and cutting off Clemens' own vision. The thing turns to me, now controlling Clemens' body. It's three-ey-stair, each moving slightly and quick, jerky motions. It moves toward me. I back up to open the torpedo tube, unable to to go anywhere else in the cramped room.

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