Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - We drilled too deep into the Earth...

Episode Date: November 29, 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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The conditions apply. Talk to No Sleep. Hey, guys. I want to give a shout out to Justin, Brian, and I know the manga for signing up to become Dr. No Sleep patrons. You three now have full access to my ad-free podcast episodes and bonus episodes. If you'd like to receive access as well, check out my Patreon page at patreon.com slash DR No Sleep to sign up.

That's patreon.com slash DR No Sleep. Now time for the story. We knew from the start. we were digging too deep. It was too deep for the rig, too deep for the drill, just dangerous and stupid on all counts. But the company thought we might be right above an oil pocket, so we had no choice. Drill, baby, Drill, Harvey said, struggling with the lever despite his massive arms. Hey boss, it's starting to redline, Georgie said, waving me over. Take a look. I don't know if she can handle any more pressure. I chewed at my unlit cigar. The gauge was already in the red,

and we weren't even half the distance that the company demanded. I figured when they made me shift leader, it would be a nice raise, and I just have to break up the occasional fistfight. Now it looked like I was going to have to either risk a $20 million piece of equipment or call off the drill and risk getting replaced. It was early afternoon and hot as hell. The ocean reflected the sunlight back at us like a mirror. I took off my hard hat to wipe off some sweat and tried to make a choice.

For better or worse, the decision was made for me when Sparks started to fly. Oh, hell, Harvey said, letting go of the lever and backing up. Georgie pointed to the drill. Boss, I think. The rest of his words were lost in the violent screech of metal as the drill came to a halt. There was a muffled pop, still loud enough to make my fillings rattle. Then came in the smoke, black smoke, so thick you could almost chew it. My first fear?

the driller's greatest fear was fire. Luckily, once the drill was shut down, there were no immediate emergencies. We were just beginning maintenance when we heard the scream. At least, I think it was a scream. The sound was distorted, rising up through the water like a blood clot floating loose. Everyone froze as the noise washed over the oil rig. Is... was that human? Carter asked, glancing around like he was.

expecting to see somebody being tortured right there on deck. Probably a whale, I guessed. It kind of sounded like a whale song. Harvey spit over the side of the rig. Yeah, maybe if you had a whale hooked to jumper cables. Do you think we hit something with the drill? Georgie asked. He had one skinny hand clasped over the other, probably to stop it from shaking.

Georgie was an anxious guy, but to his credit, everybody on deck looked rattled, me included. I took a deep breath, tucked my chewed-up cigar behind my ear, and tried to put on my best shift-leader face. Whatever made the noise isn't going to hurt us 100 feet above the surface, I said. As long as nobody decides to jump into the Gulf for a swim, I think we'll be fine. That got some nervous chuckles from the crew. We went back to running diagnostics. Carter and his team cleared the deck, then went to look over the cranes on either end of the oil rig to make sure there was no damage.

there. Harvey and his guys did a deep examination of the unmoving drill to try to figure out what we hit and how we could get it turning again. Georgie and I had the least exciting job, watching the computer in the control room reboot and reconfigure, then run a systems check. What do you think we hit? Georgeie asked me when we were alone. Mineral deposit? Shipwreck? Who can tell? I just hope the drill isn't busted up too bad. That scream, though, I shrugged and tried to smile. The ocean is full of many wonders, my friend. Maybe it was a whale saying hello,

or a pot of dolphins telling us to go fuck ourselves. Whatever it was, it sounded big and down deep, Georgie said, fiddling with the controls. Well, big don't matter too much if it's deep enough. Unless the thing can fly, I think we're safe. Nothing the fellas tried could get the drill turned. turning again. It wasn't so much broken as stuck, according to Harvey. The man sat across for me in the canteen, his beer gut pushing against the table. I don't know what else we can try to get it loose,

boss. You reversed the motors? I asked. What about the kick break? Have you tried to? All of it. Come on, boss. This isn't my first rodeo. We tried everything. The drill is stuck. I sighed and opened up a beer. My shift was over, so I was technically a lot. allowed to drink, but it was frowned upon. Whatever, it was a garbage day. Harvey went and joined his usual crew, leaving me to sit alone at the table to simmer, over how to fix the issue.

If the drill was still dead by the end of the morning shift, we'd have to call in a repair crew, and I'd be well and properly screwed. It was going to be a long night. I was going to be at the problem until it was fixed, or I was fired. I decided to head down to the crew quarters to catch an hour of sleep right around sunset. I set my alarm, crawled into my bunk, and I was out immediately. I woke up to the sound of the entire rig reverberating. The crew quarters were humming with activity,

folks falling out of their bunks, foremen stomping around demanding to know who was making all of the noise. The dings were so fucking loud. It was like being trapped under a giant bell that somebody was firing a rifle into. I saw Georgie scrambling towards me. What in the hell is going on? I shouted, hopping on one foot as I tried to pull on my pants. Georgie's face was pale. It's the drill! I checked my watch as we headed to the deck. It was barely nine at night.

I'd slept for less than an hour before the racket started. The stars shined with high luminosity above the Gulf. It was a clear night with the moon hanging low, just over the ocean. The waters were relatively calm, but I noticed a strange chop that almost seemed to be rippling out from the oil rig into the sea. If something major was about to break, we were well and truly screwed. The rig was 80 miles offshore. It would take hours for help to arrive. Harvey was already struggling with the drill controls when Georgie and I ran over. She's shaking, the big man said. Something is hitting the drill. What could possibly hit the drill hard enough to? I was interrupted

by a thump from the ocean, followed by the unexpected sensation of static electricity, raising all of the hairs on my head. The confused looks on the faces around me made it clear we'd all experienced the same phenomenon. An instant later, all of the lights on the rig went out. I pulled out my phone to use the flashlight and realized that the device was bricked. A total power outage that wiped our electronics.

We were dead in the water. It was some kind of electromagnetic pulse, Georgie explained once we were back in the cafeteria. Harvey and his crew were still on deck, trying to manually restart the drill. I was meeting with Georgie and a few of the supervisors privately to figure out what the hell happened. All of our phones are dead, radios too, said Tyson, an oil rig vet and steady presence. Can't contact the mainland or the company then? I said, chewing at my unlit cigar.

Next resupply isn't for three weeks. Shouldn't take that long for them to see something's wrong, Georgie said. If we don't hail them with a report in six days, they'll attempt to contact us. If they can't, they'll send them both the day after. We should be all right. You think we can live a week with this shit going on? Tyson asked. I bid the cigar.

I think we'll have to. The maddening noise was a constant companion for the next few days. Sometimes the tapping on the drill was as quiet as change dropping onto the floor. Most times, it was loud enough to cause the rigged. vibrate. There was something unnatural about it, like the sound was alive, not just alive, but angry. Jordan Sprigg was the first crew member to snap. He was a young guy, a former farm boy, spending his first season on the rig. On the second morning of the blackout, he jumped from the deck into the ocean 100 feet below. I was at the drill when it happened. We even made eye contact

as he took that first, last step off the platform. Jordan was holding a heavy replacement pump when he went over. The kid sank like an anchor. Later that day, Harvey and a fellow named DeBrien got into a fist fight in the cafeteria. Harvey ended up crushing the other guy's windpipe and putting him in the infirmary. I ordered Harvey confined into a storage room

since we didn't have a brig. On the third day of the blackout, Bill Samuel stabbed and killed our cook over reclassery. Four more crew members killed themselves by jumping into the ocean weighed down in some manner. I had to order a full-time watch of the deck to make sure no one else tried to go for a final swim. By the fourth day, it was clear we wouldn't survive a week living with a noise. I had to confine a dozen crew to either the bunkhouse or locked storage rooms for erratic behavior. Those of us who were still functioning were just barely hanging on.

I heard the damned tapping all day and all night. I couldn't even escape it in my dreams. I'd begun chewing my nails and stopped shaving. The ocean all around us was beginning to look strangely zen and inviting. That was a bad sign. Around noon on that fourth day, the drill began to spin. There was a violent wail as the distressed machinery lurched and emotion. I rushed over to the center of the deck.

The drill was moving, but it was turning in reverse. Something was causing the device to lift. The drill crept upwards for the better part of an hour. We all watched it with a mix of curiosity and horror. What was making it move? All of the motors were still offline, so something was physically pushing the drill towards the rig. A dozen tons of dead metal inched its way towards the surface.

I was in the control room in the rig. observation tower when the shadow appeared under us. Georgie was next to me. Jesus above, he whispered. The shadow was colossal. It dwarfed the oil rig on every side. From my perspective, I couldn't tell if the object was as big as a building or a city block. Whatever it was, the thing was coming closer every moment. The drill screeched to a halt. There was a tremor moving through the rig, than the sound of rushing water. The shadow grew larger exponentially, finally breaching the surface in a rush.

A towering wave followed on all sides. Georgie! Stay away from the wind! My shout was cut off by the roar of the geyser crashing over the rig. The highest part of the wave rocked the control tower, shattering the windows, but didn't completely submerge us. The crew on the deck wasn't so lucky. I stood up, soaked from the spray,

and looked down in horror. The wave had flooded most of the rig, sweeping any soul who wasn't in the towering to the Atlantic. Boss, above us. Georgie croaked. I looked up from the empty deck to the sky and saw the creature for the first and last time. This was the thing responsible for stopping, then raising the drill, for the tapping, and for the rogue wave. I was sure of it. The, whatever the hell it was, appeared like no animal I'd seen or heard of before.

Its body was a series of interlocking, fleshy rings in constant motion. Each ring was tinged yellow and covered in open eyes with massive wings, scattered evenly across the, I guess you'd call it a torso. The creature reminded me of a living armillary sphere, a globe made of tangled circles that was roughly the size of a small town. Spray fell from the abomination as it rose higher into the clouds, its wings beating far too slowly to logically move that armament. much mass. I thought I saw other organic bits inside of the rings, teeth and hair and guts,

and even an occasional weeping face. One of the organism's eyes caught my own, and I felt ripped open, like it could see every secret, every sin, everything I'd done, and all that I was or would ever be. Then the creature was gone above the cloud cover. We drilled too deep, I heard Georgie whisper. We let something out.