Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - The Lights of Atlantis

Episode Date: August 15, 2021

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This greatly helps others determine whether Dr. No Sleep is a quality podcast or not. I would really appreciate it if you could take a couple of podcasts. of seconds to do this. Thank you guys so much, and now time for the story. Each year, about 2,000 people perish at sea. Most can be written down to accidental drownings or boating accidents, but a select few are mysterious disappearances. These are cases lost in an ocean of paperwork and unsolved mysteries. One of those mysteries involves a strange sight of lights coming from the ocean, an otherwise magnificent sight that ends up being the last thing many people ever see. We call them the lights of

Atlantis. The story about the lights is a tale that is spread from sailor to sailor throughout the past century, ignored by most, considered a warning by some. It's not something you'll hear from your neighbor who may be once set foot on a boat, but rather hushed whispers only heard in the bowels of ships sailing the oceans. I didn't believe it myself at first. I took it as tall tales. Drunken misunderstandings are optical illusions from the moonlight reflecting in the waters, but that all changed my last trip. And now I'll never set forth. photoboard offshore again. I used to work in a shipping lane that I'll keep unnamed for the sake of explorers who want to test their luck. It was a simple enough job, but the physical toll and weeks

spent at sea was punishment enough. Most trips were uneventful, and the most excitement was usually getting to know the odd sailor here and there. When traveling across the world, you get to know the odd fella with their own bizarre story. One of these men was named Gerard Price, a man prematurely aged by his experiences at sea, and an alcoholic that could at any time fall off deck and drown. He was the first person to ever tell me the tale of the lights. That's how I ended up here, he said. Those fucking lights had killed every man aboard our ship. Most of them were just kids, too.

Not yet able to stand on their own two feet. They were taken into the ocean, leaving their own futures behind to become one with the depths. What lights, I'd asked? The more experienced men called them the lights of Atlantis, because they kind of look like a lit-up city deep underwater. More than a few sailors have lost their lives trying to figure out what they actually are. But what I can tell you is that no normal man has seen them and lived to tell the tale. But you've seen them? I asked.

He nodded. And you're still here. What does that say about your story? He took another swig of his hip flask. Did you ever consider me normal? He asked back. If you ever see those lights, you better pray you're not chosen, because only one is ever left alive to keep the story going.

The conversation ended there as the alcohol-intoxicated sailor drifted off to sleep, sitting in his chair. Though the story had been interesting, it was one I chose not to believe. Gerard was also removed from the crew due to his frequent angry outbreaks and drunken strolls onto deck. He was a hazard, but anyone could have told you the man was traumatized. Still, the story always lingered, and during the next few years, I'd often find myself still.

standing on deck at night just to stare out into the ocean. A part of me desperately wanted to see the lights, but if the story was true, we'd be better off left in the dark. But as fate would have it, the lights of Atlantis had chosen us. It was the 8th of August 2018. I'd finished a day's shift, and we were approximately halfway through our journey. The end of our shifts usually concluded with a few beers on deck as the sun set under the horizon. Usually, as the light faded from the sky, it would be replaced by thousands upon thousands of small glimmers, breaking through the void of night.

The stars would appear in a symphony of beauty, only challenged by a few clouds on an otherwise perfect night. We stood there in awe of the galaxy we'd seen hundreds of times before, but the magic never faded, except that on that night, a dim light interrupted the spectacle, one coming from the ocean itself. What's that? My co-worker, Eric, asked as he pointed to the ocean. There was a perfectly round light emerging from the depths, just a few hundred feet below, shining up through the uniform darkness. They're lights, I whispered in shock. The memories coming back to me.

Whoa, they're kind of beautiful, though. Any idea what they are? He asked. No, but we need to get the hell out of here. I said as instinct took over. I turned away from the deck and headed for the bridge, ready to force the captain to keep moving, but no sooner had I gotten a few steps away, then all the lights on the ship fell to darkness, and the sound of the running engines died down.

What the hell just happened? One of the crewmen said. Power out, did you guess? Another chimed in. Despite the newfound darkness, there was a strange yellow hue hanging in the air that came from the lights below. Though I didn't stick around to admire them. I just kept going towards the bridge. As I got there, I found Captain Harkness alongside our engineers, already working on a solution. They didn't even acknowledge my presence until I stood right next to them. What are you doing here? the captain asked. It was a fair question. I was just one of the many nameless faces aboard the ship, and only certain workers had permission to enter the bridge.

If you're here about the outage, we're working on it. So just go back to your station, he continued. No, Captain, I'm here about the lights in the water. I began before being interrupted. The lights? They're just reflections of the night sky or something, extra visible because of the blackout, he said, though with less confidence that time. I could tell he too knew the stories. Look, I want to get out of here as much as you do, but with dead engines, there isn't much we can do. People are already in the engine room trying to restore power. I can't do more than that at the moment. With that, he turned away from me and kept talking to the engineers. I wanted to say more, but I knew he was right. The odd thing was that the backup generators hadn't been

activated as expected, and based on the chatter I could overhear, there was no structural damage anywhere on the ship. As I headed back on deck, I was overwhelmed by the deafening silence, thousands of miles away from shore with absolutely zero noise pollution and dead engines. One would expect to hear the drop of a needle, but except from the voices coming from the bridge, there wasn't any sign of life left on board. I quickened my pace, running to where I'd been relaxing with my colleagues just minutes before. As I returned, I only returned. I only had to found a couple of them left, all standing frozen in place, staring out at the lights below. Eric, what are you doing? I asked. He didn't respond, nor did he seem to notice my return.

I slowly walked closer, almost nervous to look at the lights again. There were so many of them then, closer to the surface than ever before. The theory of it being some optical illusion had been shattered, but what scared me more was the trance-like state of the crew. The two of them seemed motionless, yet on their faces they had streams of tears. I shook Eric gently, and still he didn't respond, but his lips were moving ever so slightly, almost as if he were whispering. I moved my ear closer and heard some barely audible mumbles. I don't want to go. I don't want to go. I don't want to go. He kept repeating over and over again. Go where? I asked, and where are the others? But he didn't need to respond, because as we stood there,

Thin, long tendrils emerged from the water, none thicker than strands of hair, but glowing like the lights below. Dozens of them stretched around the man standing next to us, and he made no attempt at escape. As they wrapped around him, they cut through his skin, pulling him over the railing and into the ocean. But even before he hit the water, they had cut him to pieces, causing multiple little splashes to be produced as the chunks of meat hit the surface. More tendrils rose from the water, trying to grab onto Eric, but I dragged him away from the edge just in time. The impact as we both crashed onto the floor seemed to break him from his trance, at which point the true gravity of the situation seemed to hit him. We ran away from the edge towards the bridge, hoping to regroup with the rest of the crew.

In place of the crew at the bridge, all we found were puddles of blood and bits of torn flesh. We stood frozen in fear, neither of us knowing where to go next and how to escape. Hey, please. A weak whisper said behind us, it was the captain, lying against the wall with an arm missing. They killed them all, but only got my arm. Then they dropped me. We need to get downstairs. It's the only safe place on this ship.

We got the captain back on his feet. Despite his wound, he didn't seem to be bleeding all that much, at least not fatally so. There were tendrils slithering across the floor of the ship, almost like snakes searching for the next meal. But with a few twists and turns, we managed to make our way to the bowels of the ship. A couple of engineers let us in before we sealed the doors behind us.

It won't hold. The captain said, They cut through the walls of the bridge like butter, unless we can get the ship going. We're dead. What the fuck are those things? Eric asked. They call them the lights of Atlantis,

but I don't know exactly what they are, I explained. We stood in silence for a moment, a fragile silence that was quickly shouted by the sound of breaking down. Oh, God, they're here! One of the engineers said, with little time to react and nowhere left to retreat, all we could do was to await our inevitable demise.

The tendrils broke through the doors with ease and slither towards us. We backed up into a corner, but it was futile. The captain and the engineers were taken first, cut to pieces before they even reached the doors, while Eric and I tried to hit them with whatever tools we had available. Eric tried to get another hit in, but as he swung his wrench at the tendrils,

they enveloped around him, dragging him away as he screamed in agony. No! I called out, but there was nothing I could do. I was surrounded by the glowing, hair-thin tendrils, and there was no way out. Defeated. I just dropped what I held. and fell to my knees.

Go on then. Take me! I yelled. But nothing happened. For a moment, the tendrils just lingered. Then they retracted back out and retreated into the ocean. I stumbled after them, wondering why my life had been spared. But they were just gone, along with the beautiful lights they had produced. After the shock had faded, I searched the ship for survivors,

though I knew none would be found. Like the old sailor had told me, there was never more than a sole survivor left behind. I spent the next two weeks on the dead ship waiting for rescue. When they found me, I was bombarded with questions I couldn't honestly answer without being locked away in a mental institution. So I'm turning to you all to share the story of the light of Atlantis because I know I was only left alive to make sure their legacy continues.

So if you see lights coming from the depths of the ocean, get away from there and never go back. Lazzang sur-gillet, puissance-moyne, for 15 minutes. We'd say that's their dojo. Pre-to-joo? the pleasure with Leo Jo, the casino in line that proposes the most recent machine-ass and suhers and games of casino in direct.

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