Confessions of A Deep Sea Diver | CreepCast

[MUSIC] Welcome back to Creedcast. Today we are going to be doing a story called Confessions of a Deepsea Diver, tied in with a story from our story subreddit, Tales from the Creeps, which is a silent girl from a wailing sea. Now, did you say that this, the Confessions of a Deepsea Diver, it's three parts or two parts? It's three parts, but each part's like five minutes. Because I remember this one got read a ton by, like, you know, scary story YouTubers and stuff like that. I'm really just going to compile all the parts in, like, 15-20 minutes or something like that. But this one's been requested a lot, and for good reason, I remember listening to the, well, maybe it was just two parts out, and getting real scared by it. Because I was always afraid of the ocean anyway. Yeah, I don't know. And our author for Confessions of a Deepsea Diver is his indeed, Pizzond, I think it's supposed to be pronounced. They've been active on Reddit in several years, but way back, they used to post a bunch to no sleep. And this story itself is from 11 years ago, so we're reading some of that age, that age, no sleep goodness. So you did say that this was really widely covered on all the other channels, too? Yes, yeah. It's always interesting when people say that, or, you know, it's interesting, it's like this resurgence of stuff. We've seen it with like, oh, yeah, I remember I used to, or you've said it like I used to read it or I used to watch X YouTuber or, you know, this person did a story, and now it's like, people are kind of like vicariously reliving those like first experiences again. It's kind of a just a fun little like full circle moment. I mean, like for me, I remember listening to it. I remember getting scared, and I remember one part about like bodies underwater. But other than that, I don't remember. So I'm excited to read it just to be like, what was that? What bothered me about it? Does it still hold up? So I'm sure a bunch of people have the same vibe. And also, I mean, just the title, Confessions of a Deep Sea Diver. It's an immediate attention grab. So also, I mean, just God deep sea diver. I get a panic attack every time I hear like people that do like deep sea welding. Fuck that. It like the ocean. I hate the, I think we've said this before, but I hate the idea that like something is underneath me looking at me and I can't see them. Whatever. And a deep sea diving thing, I don't know. Also, we've done so many stories that have had people going, you know, deep ocean exploration or like any kind of like a company that's doing deep sea drilling or something, always fun. It's always, I don't know why I always have a good time with them. Some hope in today. It's the same. Yeah. Yeah. I remember being good. So I have high hopes. So again, historically, that hasn't gone the best for me, but we'll see. James Rose goggles, a little, a little bit, a touch. And the other story we're reading today is a silent girl from a whaling sea by sufficient leave one, four, four, and this was posted to, as Hunter said, the tales from the creeps subreddit where we moved a lot of our short stories that you guys were making. And it's been, I don't think we've could be wrong. I don't think we've covered one since we've moved everyone over to tales from the creeps that that can all be in one place. So I'm excited to get into the first one of that. This one, a bunch of people on the replies are saying, this is a very beautiful story. I mean, the title of it certainly sounds beautiful. And sufficient leave has posted a lot to the subreddit. So, oh, cool. If, with all of our authors, we'll have both of them linked in the description below. But sufficiently, but still writing pretty frequently in tells from the creeps. So if you like this one, you can go read more of their stuff right away. Yeah. It's still coming out. But definitely giving a time, cultivating a fan, nice little fan base of people and writers that are just writing stuff and being able to give each other feedback or just enjoying the kind of community that they're building there. So tales from the creep is a lot of fun. Really excited to keep kind of like living that backlog and get just a nice, healthy, healthy backlog of stuff that we can sift through, I think it would be cool. But yeah, I mean, otherwise than that, you know, I mean, you're ready to jump in. Hey, you ready to dive in? I'm ready to jump in. Hey, I hate myself. I hate myself too. I should also clarify for the record. This is a legal disclaimer. Do not drink lava lamps as I have been informed by literally thousands of people. That was that was completely unsafe to drink. And you might die if you do it. So that was that I do not sign off was the talk of the town you, you almost overconfidently just stating that you they get fine to drink lava lamps. We should have we should have put up more of a disclaimer of my god. Yeah. Well, there was not even in the edit, not in you. No one. One gave any much back that to be fair. I you say things so confidently and I feel so stupid a lot of time where I'm like, I'm not going to fight this because I I was like, you know, if I say anything, if I say anything, it's just going to come back and be like, Hunter, no, you're stupid. It's totally harmless. Why was I wrong? Well, me, I said here on my computer and typed in chemical and lava lamp question mark and just read the preview of the first result. So it wasn't a lot of like in that research. Right. Well, at least we know that. No, definitely don't do that. And if you do do that, I did not consent to I say I definitely drank the lava lamp. He definitely was shitting his brains out and probably any of the stomach pumped or filled with charcoal this week. So there it is. Well, at least now we know, at least now as a community, we know also everyone was talking about that. And they were talking about Kenny Chesney's dad with the golf club, the top comment on that last video. So it's like, yes, I looked it up and sure enough he wasn't on the on the cream cast on the cream cast subreddit. It's like one of the top posts I think and it's a mug shot of Kenny Chesney's dad and it's like, oh my God, I really did not think that you're true from nope. There he is. I thought he's a little guy. He's like a little like a little Tater Tom. He is. He's a little Tater Tom. And I want to emphasize like this guy volunteered at church all the time. He was at school. He was a nice man. Well, you know, at least it's the story I remember now you said Kenny Chesney and how can I not share. I mean, it's too good. It happens. It's literal gold. Yeah. I mean, it's you you have a web of gold that you spun. So guys, thank you so much also to people who are listening on Spotify or Apple podcast. If you watch us on YouTube, consider maybe if you're on your drive, maybe use an audio platform and help us there, give us a nice little rating. It does help. Also, if you want some extra goodies, consider signing up to our Patreon, patreon.com/creakcast, I believe. And you can sign up for some extra goodies there. We just did a we just had a episode where we basically talked about before we even got into the story to be completely very it was like maybe 25 minutes of just talking about horror films that we had just watched recently. So that's normally how it goes over there. So what do you do today? Yeah. No, not as you know, people complain that we wait too long to get in the story on this one. You have no idea. Well, without further ado, let's jump in, man. Let's get into it. Confessions of a deep sea diver. I recently left my job as a deep sea diver. I worked for a large company that offers diving services ranging from salvage, underwater demolition, ship repairs, and search and recovery. They're a reputable company and are considered safe and reliable. So much so that they are often contracted by the government. Truth be told, I'm this working for him. The people I worked with were truly the best of the best, but there are only so many unexplainable things you can witness in the deep before you decide to stay out of the ocean forever. Here are some examples of the secrets many divers take to their graves. On the way to a job we were contracted to perform, our propeller became fouled. I suited up and prepared to make a quick dive to remove the fouling. I did a brief inspection and located thick line wrapped around the prop and shaft. I notified the supervisor who then lowered a canvas bag with the tools I needed to cut it off. I hung the bag from the shaft and began freeing the propeller. It didn't take long and I returned to my tool bag. I noticed a strange crunching sound when I dropped the tools in the bag. When I looked in the bag, it was full of large shells, many of which I just crushed. After getting out of the water and stripping off my gear, I began examining them. The shells had what appeared to be a hieroglyphic's etched into them. I learned from one of the senior guys that this wasn't common, but it happened to several of them before. What? So, yeah, this is what I remember about the story. It seems like pocket little moments that happen that don't really have a lot of explanation. Just to be clear, he's coming back up. There are hieroglyphic shells in his packs and he's like, "Well, I don't remember getting that." And the people are like, "Yeah, that is kind of strange, but it's happened to us several times before." I'd be like, "Uh-huh." What do you mean you found a hieroglyphic shell in the bottom of the ocean? Yeah, I mean, it's weird, but it's happened to a couple of us, so it's not a big deal. Yeah, this boat's not moving until I get some answers. No shit, dude. It's just like a giant demon down here, it's not a big fucking deal, so it's cool. Don't worry, but it's just the troll that puts shells in bags, okay? It's perfectly normal around these parts. It's really upsetting to get in a twist about it. Yeah, you can really, really upset when you take him, so I would watch out. On one other occasion, we were recovering a military aircraft. When we arrived, naval ships were on scene waiting for us to recover it for them. We were quickly briefed that they had lost communication with the pilot and wanted us to recover it so they could investigate. I was sitting in comms and logs, or communicate with divers, monitor depth and bottom time, when the divers reached the project. They reported that the plane was intact. We were all surprised, the supervisor asked how extensive the damage was, and they explained it was completely intact. As in there was no visible damage at all it was just resting on bottom Even stranger the aircraft canopy was still in place That means that the cockpit is still sealed in other words the pilot did not eject There was no sign of the pilot We recovered the plane the military took custody of it. You never heard about it again It's kind of interesting. You know what do you think this is do you think that they're doing the story in this way? That's the end of that segment, but it I've been doing the story like this because at the time like the stairs in the woods and Those kinds of stories were popular of like oh, well, let me take like some weird events that happen You know like it feels similar right in that I mean yeah, well the The original stairs in the wood story was it may not been confessions, but it was I'm a search and rescue ranger Right right right. No, so this is like I'm a deep-sea diver. Here's my confession. Yeah So I think it just worked the format of like these look because personally, I like it a lot when you're given this kind of creepy stuff That there probably is a reason for but you're not given the explanation I mean, you're just like what I did this you know plane exists down here Why did it just go down here without any damage? It fits into that campfire Feeling of like let me tell you about this weird thing that happened, you know, I mean like without going too in depth of it It's just kind of giving the meat of it Yeah, I think it's fun. I witnessed another strange occurrence from top side at the location of a plane demolition It's necessary to explain that one way you can keep track of a diver is to watch their bubble stream When a diver inhales the helmets demand regulator provides air from their umbilical Then when they exhale, it's exhausted into the water and floats up to the surface On top side you can watch the bubbles to get a general sense of where the divers are Now in this occasion, we were hundreds of miles from land and had placed two divers in the water About an hour into the dive we started noticing something strange was happening There were three distinct bubble streams coming from where they were working At first we assumed that there was a current and it was affecting them But soon we noticed a fourth set of bubbles coming from a distance It stopped about 20 feet from the divers near the other mysterious bubbles We asked the divers, but either could see anything out of the ordinary then Even from the surface we heard a blunt curdling screech from the waters in silence The divers weren't too concerned. We hear strange things all the time Sound travels well in the water and you learn to assume it's a long distance away But soon look like the water in the distance was boiling and it was getting closer Wasn't boiling though. It was countless new bubble streams moving near to the location our divers were working The supervisor ordered the divers to get onto the dive stage to be lifted back to the surface Bubbles were frightenly close now and the divers being lifted out said they had begun seeing shadowed figures in the distance They couldn't quite make out what they were though We like to pull the divers out without completing their decompression stops and throw them into our hyperbarek chamber I like that. I like that. You have like the bubbles tracking then a bunch of them show up all at once. That's pretty terrifying Yeah, no, I would shit my pants. I'll see you use it. Well, of course the Yeah, the the hyperbarek chambers to scare the fuck out of me too Pete see see people get like I've even seen videos of people getting out of the water and they have to like quickly walk over to the Decompression chamber and it just looks like a giant metal sarcophagus Fuck that again No, you have to do it so you don't get the bins and like poison blood. Yeah, I've had a video about the bifurc dolphin incident Where they got into one of those or no, they were they were they had to get it into a even more specialized one where you get into it under water And then they bring the whole thing to the surface because you're way far down And they were at nine atmosphere, I think Nine atmospheres of pressure, which is like, you know way way several hundred times regular pressures And then someone didn't realize they were in there and just popped open the door. Yeah, I'm believe it and the entire crew got sucked through like a four-inch-size hole in a millisecond. Oh my god. I've heard of how oh my god So I mean they were just they just read this is red mist, right? Yeah, it's just red mist for the people there There's pictures of it afterwards and it looks like it looks like something out of Like a baroque painting or something. It's absurd. And then there were two people at the back of the chamber who weren't close enough to get pulled in But the pressure change was so dramatic that the fat in their blood What was it the chemical reaction was the fat in their blood effectively popped and turned into like these big yellow Pustules so they look like these yellow globs. Oh my god With wind wind was this is in the 80s. I want to say 80s of even 70s. How do you even approach that like if you're going down and you like see this like like when you like find this 83 Yeah, when would you find this? I mean That are you just like immediately like okay, my mind is gone forever You know what I mean like are you just that traumatized? I'm like imagine me being like hey guys Oh, and then I'm just like it's black my my my my mind is like if it's rated for my head Not not and then yeah, just set me sound in my head Like that's what happened. I'm a different person now. Yeah, I come up and I'm speaking in like a Rastafarian accent and stuff I'm like just fundamentally change Like what happened? I'm like big big blob done. Yeah, pop Pop goes the reason it's like the reason I even said that you know have you seen the one where it's a The woman said that she like my friend was like she something happened But she like came out of like a coma or I I'm paraphrase I can't remember but it's like a woman that woke up And then she like just start talking with an Asian accent. Have you heard of that? Yes. Yeah, yeah insane I mean saying I mean she's gotta be making it up right there. I don't know I'm sure there is something that there's some truth to it But I have done no research. I don't want to speculate on it But I will say how this fucking wild dude and I'm saying that maybe even after I saw a man get fucking eviscerated into red mist and see basically like a god damn I'm a beehive of a person's fantasy like entire face got like perfectly peeled off and pushed on the wall all of it any of it I'm telling you I might wake up and have an Asian accent. I might I might just snap right there and have an Asian accent I don't know I seriously I want to put that on the record. No, no, no, no, no, I do think that the You would you would fundamentally be a different person though. I'm a one million percent at least with and I'll say this At least with the shadowy. I don't know god damn monsters in the water at least with that you have speculation. Oh God made you probably just a whale or you are you can you can at least trick your mind or at least lie to yourself Even though you'd be haunted for the rest of your life. Oh well. Yeah, but if you saw a big yeah a popcorn man Made from his own fat. No, that rostopharian Asian accent for sure rostopharian Asian It's a tough blow up tough blend the human tongue was never meant to do that You get real experimental over there I don't know yeah the mind was never meant to have such a dialect and here we are All right, I'm gonna go back to the story During another dive near the Bahamas. I had a frightening experience It was my first salvage job with him. So I got in with a highly experienced diver I just over 200 feet deep we were examining the sunken vessel for rigging points As I approached the bow of the ship. I noticed he was investigating a damaged portion of the hull He swam a few feet into the ship looking around I asked him a few times if he wanted me to tend his umbilical or air supply hose from just outside the ship It's highly advisable since it's dangerous to enter a sunken ship to which he stayed to know He didn't want to enter the ship. He insisted. He was on the port side of the ship Assuming he was disoriented and I reached in a gravim Just before touching him I realized there were no bubbles coming from the helmet Whenever this was Wasn't breathing I backed up and reported that something else was down here. I expected mockery, but there was none Next thing I heard was the diving supervisor Both divers square yourselves away and get ready to leave the bottom I'm back on surface. I asked the supervisor about it. He said he refused to put his divers in exceptionally dangerous situations He then refused to clarify we declined to complete the salvage It's like this deep sea like ghost divers. Yeah, it's like creepy ghost divers. A lot of fun Also, I like this idea that was just a continuous. It's like there's there's like no deniability They're all just like no seriously. There's some fucked up stuff down here Yeah, no one's trying to hide it. They're all like bro. The ocean is scary Yeah, well, everyone who has any amount of like I don't know managerial Like power positions. They're just like no, yeah, that's it's all real. No, it the head work. Yeah Yeah, the devil's real. We're dealing with them right now We should go the beginning of this because it says during another dive near the Bahamas and maybe think about this time in fourth grade when this uh isn't a sufferable kid in my class, tried paying his lunch, tried paying his lunch with a sand dollar that he got from Thomas on vacation. Never tell you about this. No. He had two sand dollars and he's like, these things are worth like 25 bucks. Pretty tried paying for a chicken patty meal and like the fucking the old woman read it. Like ringing up the, ringing up the food because you know, like you go through line and to scan your car to wherever the fucking car like a double lunch. And he tried giving her a sand dollar. He said, keep the change. She's like, what the fuck is this? I mean, she didn't say that. But she was like, what is this? He's like, it's a sand dollar. And she's just like threw it back at him and it like broke. And he's like, no, I'm sorry. He's like, yeah, he's sobbing the rest of the day by sand dollars. And everyone's like, you realize that like these are just, you can get these anywhere. Oh, no, that's that was funny. Maybe think of Thomas. I'm not entirely sure how to explain this next dive. I was on bottom laying on my back staring up toward the surface. All I could see were varying shades of darkness. Suddenly, I came to my senses. I had no memory of how I got here. I realized I couldn't remember getting into the water or even why I was here. I tried to will my body to stand up, but realized I couldn't move. I couldn't control my body. Over the columns, I could hear topside instructing the other diver to find me. How long can I been down here? Long and I've been missing. He told topside that they grabbed him. I tried to shout out, but I couldn't even do that. After a few frantic minutes of communication between the diver and topside, I noticed a shadow growing clear who's moving toward me. Topside, I found him. Breached down and grabbed my harness, dragged me back to our dive stage. As he pulled me, I rolled over and got a brief glance at my surroundings. I've been laying in a pile of human bones. That's fun. Like a siren's call almost keeps him down there. I like that. Was he in the water? Yeah, he was under water. He was on like the bottom. Oh, so he was just in a suit. Implication being people are like compelled or made to lay down there and die. Right. Like the other bones. I see. Because he was in a dive suit. He lived longer. I see. One of the. Hold on. Someone just came to the door. Let me go get that real quick. I'm sorry. One second. It's time to talk about something scary. Your health. I know I don't go in the doctor as much as I should. 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Again, that's CodeCreepCast50Off at FactorMeeals.com/CreepCast50Off to get in on this incredible offer today. Thank you to Factor for sponsoring the show, there are links will be in the description. We are now back to the episode. Let me in. I want to pay, I want to make content with him. Actually, I'd be fucking horrified if I if I found out that that video was actually outside of my ZS house, I don't even know what I would do. Also, I feel like Isaiah would have just killed the guy if I'd been honest. I saw the get the video and the guy had like a shovel. I think the guy would have been dead. The amount of guns that he flashes in his videos, I'm like demo fuckering and making out of the house. Especially with a new baby, hell no. I saw another one too where it was like, they took that footage and put it in the, I'm not human game or no, I'm human or something, whatever the fuck that game was called, they put that, they put them in that and it works perfectly, it's really funny. Actually, there'd be a good question for when Isaiah gets back. Would he have killed the guy who entered his home? I probably would have. I don't know. I don't know enough about the situation to where, what was he doing? He was like, where is she? What does that, what does they have a man? Where's who? Where like open up doors and shit? I don't know. Okay. Oh, sorry about that. Yeah. I had a question for you. Okay. So I just, I was saying that if the person at the door was that guy that's blowing up right now about the ring doorbell cam thing and he like goes inside if that was the person that was at your door. And then I started laughing because I was like, it'd be funny if that video footage was just one of your disgruntled fans at your doorstep in the ring doorbell camera and he's screaming and he's ringing the bell and stuff. If he would have gone into your house, I told, I was sitting here talking to the audience or base it to myself. You would, he would have been dead, right? You would have killed him. Oh, if someone comes in my house like that. Absolutely. Yeah. Yeah. Question. Yeah. Just make it. I've seen, I've, I've seen people shot for less around here. So I just saw the guy in the video. I don't know the context of what the guy was doing in the house, but I just know that the guy comes from the corner. Well, I thought he said something like, where is she or something like that referring to the guy's daughter or something, but then the guy has like a shovel. I'm like, I, I feel like I would have fucking had like a knife or something. So, so if someone ran into my house, I would kill them. If someone ran into the house yelling, if someone was in the house and yelled, where is she? I'd kill him. Someone comes into my house with the shovel. I'll kill him. So those are three different reasons that I would find it reasonable to shoot that. I'm trying to think if somebody, only throw your scenario for somebody where it's like, they wouldn't shoot. If there was a guy in your area, he was a criminal. He is breaking the houses, right? So he still is a threat, but his whole thing is that he goes and he gives the men of the house, the, the husbands are men. He's a serial. He like, he gives men raspberries on their stomachs. I'm going to save the city and shoot him in the head. He probably would have been, you would be known as a hero. Even though he's just giving you raspberries and your belly on the lips, he doesn't do anything else. That's, yes. Yeah. Yeah. Anyone, anyone who comes into my house without express permission is already questionable. If they need to blow on my stomach, yes, that, that is what I'm concerned. Even if he, even if he did it to you and you started giggling, because it felt weird and you're like, he, he, he, and he ran off. He's like, he's like, oh, see you next time. You're describing a scenario where I'm like a cartoon character. Like I'm like bopping through the house like with my shirt rolled up. Like, yeah. I feel like when I think about you walking through your house, I feel like you always have a loaded gun on you. You're walking around your house. I mean, not when I'm like holding my daughter, but there's normally one, I think there's plenty of stuff in the way holding your daughter, bobbing your daughter in your other hand. You have your gun in your hand. You have, you're like moving the curtains away with your gun, and you're like, looking outside. No one better come. We did think someone broke into the house the other night. So I, you say someone broke into your house the other night? No, no, no. I thought they did because the several reasons. Anyway, I went through the house to clear it. And then after I got then clearing it, I realized I was just holding her on my chest. And it's like, well, it's probably not a good place. Give it what I would do. I would open the door. Don't worry, she'll save me. I would tell my wife, I would say, I would say hide in the closet, and I'd crack open my door to my main room. And I'd say, - Take the kid and run. - Take the kid and leave. (laughing) - Just take her and don't come back. - Exactly, take her, we'll make another one. (laughing) - I did all I could, babe. - Yeah, exactly. - God, bless her. - She's a hero. (laughing) - She's a hero. - That's what she would've wanted. - Bye, sweetie. - You understood. (laughing) - To save me. - Dad. - Yeah, thank you for saving daddy. - Yeah. - All right, you go have a good life now, all right? - Exactly. - That's fun. Who was at the door, though, if I can ask you? Who was at the door? - It was the guy, there's a leak in the garage, so it was the guy coming to take a look at it. Contractor. - Hmm. - I know, it's not as fun as what you wanted, but. - No, I just, I think all kinds of weird things about you, man. - I have the time, I never know if I even trust you as a person. I have no idea. - How do I know that you didn't let that guy into your house and you're like, you're chaining him up. You ever think about that? You were wondering about anybody. Why aren't you talking about what? - I don't know, I'm just, I didn't do that. So I'm like, I'm thinking all kinds of strange things. This guy's like, hey, here to fix the leak, he's down in the basement and he goes down there and you just fucking dead bolt him in. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I get scared. We read these horror stories and my mind goes to all these dark places, I say, I'm scared, I'm frightened. And sometimes I'm frightened. - So you're doing a bit right now. - You're doing a bit right now. You're doing a bit right now or you worried about me? What do you think I am? You're talking about me? - I don't know. - I'm like holding the gun and I hold the stuff like that. - I'm just saying, we read these stories, my mind goes to a dark place and then I'm questioning you because also every time you come to my house, you always walk up this long driveway and you always wave. You always wave from the road. - Yeah, you know why I walk up that? - You know why I walk up that driveway on her? - Because there are a few things. - Someone picked me up from the airport. - I'd say what? I'm about to not pick you up again this next time. We keep talking about that. - Sorry, yeah. - Yeah. - One of the strangest things I've ever witnessed happened on a body recovery mission. Even I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't been the one in the water. The military had found a site in which they believed the bodies of several missing world war two sailors would be found. I entered the water with another diver with body bags to carry the remains. At bottom, we eventually found three skeletons. We placed them in the bags and returned to the stage. On our return trip to the surface, we saw the bags begin to move. At first, very slightly, then violently shaking and rolling. Bubbles escaped from two of the bags, and then they went still. The third bag continued struggling. We reached the surface and sat down on the deck, stripping our gear immediately. We were afraid to touch the bags, but one of the tenders eventually unzipped the moving bag. An old, frail, very alive man rolled out coffee and water. We stood shocked, unable to comprehend what we were witnessing. Still not sure what I was doing. I ran to the other two bags and unzipped them. There were two more old men lain motionless in the bags. They appeared to have just drowned. We attempted CPR, but were unable to revive them. The man, who was somehow now alive, was backing away from us. Screaming of the whores he had witnessed. He screamed about an eternity spent burning. He'd locked him in a room and contacted the military that we had found a survivor. Within the hour, the military chopper was hovering over us to pick up the two bodies and the survivor. We had placed the bodies back in their bags and handed them over. The man had been over to inspect them, unzipping the bags. As he opened the bags, an unbearable stench overtook us. Bodies appeared to be into K, so if they'd been dead and soaking in the water for a week. Zipped it back up and had them lifted it at the chopper. Then we escorted him to the survivor. We had to hear the screaming from down the hall. We opened the door and saw blood splattered on the walls. He was alive and screaming, but he too appeared to have started to cane. The man calmly walked him to the chopper and the two of them were lifted on board. Never heard about them again. However, I went back and examined the room. With his blood, he had drawn hieroglyphs on the walls. I've still not certain of what I've viewed, but there were a few things that seemed to stand out. Waves, flames, and bodies. There was a tremendous amount of them on the walls, but shortly after I walked in, our supervisor began scrubbing the walls, or refused to let us examine it any further. I like that idea that once you go in the water, you become like an old skeleton, but then you're pulled out and suddenly, like you're alive again with that time having passed. That's neat. I've heard rumors about the keepers of the deep. I've wondered about them for quite some time. I believe they're the link between many of our stories. They're myth within our team seldom spoken of, but here's what I gathered over the years. We are not meant to roam the depths of the ocean. When a diver loses his life in the deep, it doesn't say that way. They're cursed to forever roam the oceans. When they find the living in an envious rage, it will bring you back to the depths from which they came. That is the end of part one. - Like a pirate shanty. - Yes, yeah. Like a pirate shanty. - All right, so that's the part one. I say, how are you feeling after part one? How are you feeling? - I like it. I mean, I like this, right? I like the little vignettes of these moments that don't really get explanation. I think the one about the World War II, playing some creepiest people go in, they're effectively trapped in hell, but when you come out of the water, you're free to how you were. - Yeah. - That's pretty cool. How are you feeling? - You know, I'm looking to be a little more wind and dined, I guess, they're fun little vignettes, but it's, I like these things where it's, I just wish they were a little longer. I think there's just not enough for me to really grab onto it. A lot of fun ideas, but I'm hoping that there's some that maybe give us a little more. I wouldn't mind a little more. - Okay, gotcha. - A lot of these are reminding me stories of my public swimming pool. Like that's the weird thing, is I would just keep thinking of all these different stories I used to have in my public swimming pool and how that kind of thing happened at your public swimming pool. - They suspected there were bodies of World War II sailors in there. - Well, it's like weird things of the urban legends of things you have, there's just one time when this homeless guy lived outside, usually a swimming pool, a public swimming pool, there's usually tall fences all around it, right? It's not like it's just open. You have to go inside and this guy lived in the bushes outside of that. And there was one time where people made up this legend that he would hop in the fence overnight and he would take shit in the drains. So then people were always really scared and then people I think would like put candy and stuff and like, you know, kind of like the candy shack thing put like baby roofs in the pool. I'm like, it's a homeless guy shit. - You'd say that. So, maybe think of that, I don't know. I was always afraid I was gonna drown in my public pool. - Yeah, those sure are the same thing I would argue, you know? - What? The World War II sailors underwater in a homeless guy pooping in the drain. Just say they're similar, just say, just make me think. I'm just like, it just make me think that like, it's just bring me back, I guess, to certain things. I mean, they're the same, I just, I don't know. I was just, just fucking makes you think of it. I don't know what I'm just gonna tell you. I don't know. - All right. (laughing) - Harry, Harry Isaiah is being mean to me. - What is he saying? - I didn't say anything. He's talking about, he's talking about how, 'cause we're reading these stories about, I don't know, fucking World War II pilots or something being trapped in a fucking airplane or something, whatever, that thing. - Yeah, he's read the story. - And then I taught, and then I told him. - Can I hear how angry he is on the other side? - And then I told him that I was like, oh, this makes you think of like legends from when I was like like my public pool. And they're both water-based, right? And now Isaiah's being mad because he's like, well, they're definitely the same thing, whatever. And I'm just trying to tell him that's in parts of my life. Where is this stand for the flag stolen valor coming from? - Isaiah? - Stand for the, my stand for the flag stolen valor? - Yes. - My purpose isn't stolen valor. It's that a homeless man pooping in a drain is different than recovering bodies from an old ship. - I mean, I'm not saying that they're that similar. I'm just saying that, my, I'm just saying, that it just makes me think of, 'cause there's a lot of different stories from my public swimming pool. And it's got these vignettes are just making me think, like, oh, yeah, you know, even though they're not the same, but it's not like there's like a, there was a veteran. There's like an old guy that did, he like slipped and cracked his head in the bathroom. You ever go in it? - There we go. - Oh, he's true. - That's the same thing. You had to recover a bottle here from the-- - No, no, no, it's like the slay, it's one of those old public pool things where it's like the floors really, really wet. You go in there, it's a goddamn hazard, right? - Was he shot right naked? - Oh, 100%, I was hated to go into the bathroom because of that, I hate how normal that was. I don't know if it's that much of a thing anymore, but-- - I went to the rec center four times 'cause my shot with my hot water was broken to shower. And every single time there was an old guy completely naked. And he had his like little speedo hung up over there. - Oh, I hate when they put the shorts up on the actual-- - Yeah, you smell their stank ass like moldy speedos or trunks or whatever. I just, all those guys too. So I'd take a shower at home. Why do you have to take a shower here? - How do you get out of the pool? You gotta get out of the pool. - I don't care, dry yourself off and wait 10 minutes before you get home. This one guy I'm telling you, I think that he was like show-bought in a bit. - Oh, was he-- - Yeah, I think so. Like looking back on it, I'm like, yeah. I mean, like when you're a kid-- - Was he packing heat, though? - He wasn't packing heat. I tell you he would bend over and he had like a hemorrhoid and it was disgusting. It looked like a, it looked like a, it looked like a, it looked like a lasagna stuffed inside like a clam. It was fucking disgusting. People with the swim pool called a monkey brain. It was the worst how patriotic as I'd say of feeling that he was, he wasn't, he wasn't harping on the scary story. Yeah. We can. All right. He just wants to read the story. Thank you for the coffee. You're welcome. Hi, it's Hannah. Do we, can you at least meet me halfway on there that they, they should not, the people should not be bathing at the, at the public pools. And for, for one, I don't have to meet you anywhere, but two, you have to meet me somewhere. People should not be, people should not, I mean, you on this podcast, but people should not be the public pools. I agree with you. If they can help it, they didn't really call a monkey brain, but I, I will say there was a guy here. So that did do that. It was disgusting. Or two. For I share anything further, there are a few things I'd like to clarify. I received an astonishingly large amount of comments and personal messages since posting. Several people pointed out to me that there are probably very few people with experiences like these. And of those people, even fewer could say that they've recently left their job. Therefore, there are probably a lot of people out there who already know who I am. Or that could figure it out easily. That being said, I still believe that everybody deserves to know. First, I'm going to answer some of the common questions I've received. Yes, I've experienced a lot of terrifying things in the ocean. But when you consider the amount of dives I've made, these experiences have truly been few and far between. Basic information about our dive gear. While it does vary based on the job, we do have a standard we typically use. We are hard-hat divers, meaning we wear helmets, not scuba. This surface supplied air, we have an air system on surface, which runs through an umbilical down to the divers. The umbilical attaches to the helmet to the supply of the air. Woven and with the umbilical are our essentials. Without getting too technical, there is a line to supply air, electricity for a light, communications and essentially a depth gauge. Additionally, we wear a tank on our back as an emergency gas supply. It doesn't contain much though, just enough to get to the surface in an emergency. We don't use re-breathers for the work we do. We do, however, occasionally use a full face mask instead of a helmet, or scuba if it's more practical, but it rarely is. Keepers of the deep. I've never found information about them online. The only people I've heard discussed them were the members of my team. I've been told other teams have had run-ins with them too though, even the guys on my team are hesitant to speak about them. I'll answer more questions as they arise, but I'll get back to why you're really here. While working on an oil rig, we were utilizing an ROV, a mansion of small remote control submarine, to do inspections. We've been hired to inspect for structural damage or deficiencies after the rig had complained of abnormal vibrations. During operation, the ROVs are tended from a line that offers power, a strength member, and transfers video and sonar images back to the top side. As the ROV descended into the darkness below, we began to notice thin scratches along the structure. At first, it was barely enough to rip the marine growth off of the metal, but as we got deeper, scratches turned to couches. As we descended even deeper, we began to notice that the scratches appeared to deliver it. We pulled the ROV up close to inspect. There, before us, were images. There were hieroglyphs carved into the metal, and they were fresh. The deeper we got, the older the carvings appeared. They were corroded and partially covered in growth, whatever was making these carvings was working its way up from the bottom. Then the ROV stopped responding, it began shaking back and forth, we lost power to it. We tried to pull it up by its tending line, but it seemed stuck. Then we felt it, tugging against the line, but it was coming from the ROV side. Something was pulling it deeper. Two more guys jumped onto the line and struggled to pull it back up. The line began creaking and parted. Pulled up the remainder of the line, but the ROV was gone forever. Supervisor was then left with the task, figuring out how to report our findings to the oil company. I mean, I like the, you know, there's something in the deep and stuff like that. The ocean always freaks me out, because it's such, it's like an impossibly huge space that you can move in every part of. You know, like earth and air is tall, but unless something's flying, you can't, you know, utilize all the space that isn't on the ground. But in the ocean, you can, and you can have these gigantic creatures that can appear. And you also don't have the same, at least humans don't have the same visual clarity we do above water, underwater. So, I mean, you could, there could be Goliaths down there that you never know of until it's too late. So I like the idea that like, it could be these keepers of the deep down there, could be a giant sea monster. Who knows? There's so much room for the mind to wander underwater. Yeah. I mean, it's basically being in deep space, you know, just the idea that like, oh, yeah, you could see some fucking horrifying fish and you're like, well, that's just, that's deep ocean fish. Maybe it's very odd. That's that'll do it for you. And there's even just like, yeah, there's species down here that we have no idea about. There's such an unmarked, unchecked part of the world that's just crazy that it's just below us. You know, I think we've talked about it before. That octopus that was a picture was taken of off the side of an oil rig. Yeah. It's like the 30 meter long tentacles or what I'm unbelievable. Yeah. With these reddit posts and stuff, is there ways where people could put photos while they type or is it just only text? As far as I know, it's, I mean, you can put a photo at the top, I think, but it's just at the top. You can't put it down. Oh, well, I was going to say that one thing I liked about like even Ted the cave, it was just like little, little pieces of media like that. It'd just be fun. I don't know how you do it. Well, if this was being written by somebody, because the guy who did, Ted the cave, I think he was just legitimate, like a splunker, you know, did splunking and stuff. Yeah. If a person wrote this story and they're like, I actually do work on like a, an oil rig or like I work on some kind of like deep sea gear or something, because I feel like a lot of people write from experience, so I have a feeling this guy probably does do some kind of work in this field. I'm going to assume. Well, yeah. Well, looking at his reddit history, he, more than he posted an R slash no sleep, he posted a lot in R slash diving, I just talked about legitimate diving. So it seems like he was a deep sea diver who just wrote this story. And some people that have those kinds of just like practical photos of like them actually doing that. I think it would go a long way. I just think it'd be cool, but it would help submit some of this stuff because I'm trying to like picture a lot of this and like, yeah, I don't know, it'd just be, I wish they had some of that like found, that found footage element to it. Mm hmm. Yeah. You just missed out the cave where I know you, I didn't, I really do. It's like I, I legitimately think it's the best. I think it's my favorite. I know we go, we go back and forth and all kinds of, it's, it has to be my favorite. I love that one. It is good. It is good. It's still mother-horsesized, but, but understand. I want to take a moment to thank today's sponsor, Warby Parker. 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Plus, Warby Parker has distributed over 20 million pairs of glasses to people in need through their BiAPair Give-A-Pair program. Warby Parker gives you quality and better looking prescription eyewear at a fraction of the going price. And today, that deals even better, because right now you can buy one prescription pair and get 20% off any additional prescription pairs at WarbyParker.com/Creepcast. That's right. Thank you to Warby Parker for sponsoring the show, the link will be in the description, and we are now back to the episode. One incident took place about a year ago. During a salvage job, we were in the process of installing the rigging gear. I'll face in the ship, with my back to the open ocean, I didn't notice anything approaching. Not only something smashed into the tank on my back, hard, slammed into the ship, flattened against it by force. I turned around, there was nothing. I would later learn that I had several bruised ribs from the impact. After reporting to the other diver on the top side, we were told they were going to pull us. I got back onto the stage and started being lifted toward the surface. After our eyes peeled, scanning into the not too distant shadows, during a decompression stop, we began seeing a shadowy figure circling around us. We continued to monitor it as circle to closer. more clearly. There was a massive shark circling us. Now I had never been afraid of sharks, but there's something about being circled by a massive shark in the middle of the ocean, dangling from a chain that can instill a new phobia on the bravest men. Keep in mind, we aren't in an enclosed cage, just a platform to stand on. It felt like being served on a platter. It eventually circled close enough to see its features, but I didn't recognize its species. It was bigger than a great white, with entirely different coloration. It was mostly black with a few gray features. Continue to hide us as we set their helpless, praying to be left alone. By the time we completed our decompression requirements, it was nearly close enough to touch. The stage lifted us up and out of the water, relieved that the shark had not decided to find out how we tasted. On surface, we deduced that the shark had lunged at my back, but it only managed to hit the emergency gas supply cylinder. So you just didn't notice like a goliath, like a megalodon coming up behind him. Yeah, I was going to say I'm like, what? I like whenever these stories do put in like, it's always funny. There was just like, yeah, so it's, we saw kind of a crazy shark. It was a bit kind of odd. Also, we saw it like we heard the screams of children below us one time, and it's like splicing in like regular real world stuff to kind of ground it. But then being able to go more fantastical. But yeah, this one, you're just like, no, this is like a giant cartoony shark. I don't know how he didn't miss it. Yeah. Yeah, the shark is like the size of megalodon, like it's impossibly big. Ah, geez. And we're serving on a platter. Oh, God, geez, and crackers. Oh, God, I got ice chalotte too. Good stuff. What's all about? It's what we make the money for. It's true, man. Just so we can just afford Starbucks ice chalotte's. So they can write little, so they can write little millennial quirks on it. Yeah, what they read on yours. So they write on mine. Yeah. What's even mean? I just put want some coffee. Like W-O-N-T-W-O-N-T-S-U-M coffee and coffee is just spelled and then it just you gotta say it. You have to say it with like your bottom lip tucked to your upper lip won't some coffee. Watch him cough. Yeah, yeah. Heck and chungus wholesome. It's a heck and wholesome. Did chungus is that a millennial thing? No, well, not really, but like people call like that type of millennial wholesome chungus because it's like they're just just the word chungus feels right to describe like the punchable nicety like quirky characteristic punchable nicety. That'd be a good horror film is like a millennial. Some kind of millennial being trapped with like millennials doing something like almost like you're like trying to rent a ring. Like this podcast. You rent a ring. Is this this is probably millennial coded, right? Do you think so? I don't know, probably. I don't know. Yeah. I feel like we got a split of like the Gen Z millennial types, you know, I guess I'm more of the millennial cringe anything. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Put a bolt in my head. There it is. There it is. We did another dive this time in crystal clear waters. There's something nice about getting a job in waters where you can actually see your surroundings. The visibility was over a hundred feet. We got to the bottom and became work. There were two missiles that had been ejected from a military aircraft and had not detonated. We were briefed on their location and told they were not armed and would not detonate provided they were handled appropriately. We located them much easier than we expected and began preparing to rig them up. Just as I laid my hands on the first missile, my dive buddy said, oh shit, my stomach dropped. I don't care how many times you've worked with an ordinance. I sincerely believe you will always have that uncomfortable sensation in your gut and nervousness in the back of your mind. I looked up and realized he wasn't talking about the missile. He saw a wall of sand rising in the distance. Something hopefully just occurred and was kicking up the sand from the bottom of the ocean. The wall of sand was growing and was about 30 feet tall. Even worse, it was approaching us. Student was upon us. It's hard to describe what bad visibility does in the water. It's not a matter of not having enough light. It's a matter of too much crap and water blocking the light. Imagine fog, but imagine if you can that this fog is thicker than anything you've ever witnessed. I'm talking about fog so thick that you can have a flashlight pointed at your eyes from an inch away but you're completely blind to it. That's what bad visibility is in the water. The moment the sand hit us, we were engulfed in pure darkness. Place my hand against my face plate, but couldn't even see it. After a few moments, we began hearing a metallic scraping sound. Then, swiftly as it arrived, sand was gone. We had crystal clear waters again, except there was no sign of the missiles. I had been within arms reach when the wall of sand hit us, but now even feeling around under the sand revealed no trace of them. The next incident occurred during a humanitarian job that we volunteered to perform. After a portion of bridge collapse over 50 foot deep ocean waters, we volunteered to recover the vehicles and hopefully the bodies. By the time we arrived on scene, the collapse had taken place just over a week ago. We spent the first day surveying the area and developing a plan to lift the most we could in the week timeframe we had available. By the start of day two, we were actively pulling vehicles off the bottom. It was a difficult job to say the least, but not because of the effort required. State of disarray in the cars was heartbreaking. These weren't military pilots or sailors lost at sea. These were families on vacation, where people community didn't work. It was hard to say what was harder. The cars where we found an entire family, with the parents seat belts unbuckled and them in the back seat, haven't been trying to unbuckle their children, where the cars where the parents got out, leaving the children buckled in the back seat. I tried not to imagine the panic that had been going on inside the cars as they flooded from broken windshields or windows as people frantically tried to escape, but I couldn't forgive those that left their families to drown. Each day we moved on to a new section of cars, and on the fourth day we started noticing several of the cars had their doors open and nobody inside. We were happy to find easier work, especially under the assumption that the tragedy had been lessened by people escaping the wrecks. It isn't until I began rigging a minivan for removal. The family inside hadn't been so lucky, as I ran slings through the van and prepared it to be lifted. I noticed the other diver inspecting the rigging gear. You began undoing one of my shackles. I asked what he was doing, and the response was not what I'd hoped for. I felt the familiar sick in my cut sensation. Slowly, I crept over to the diver and turned his body toward me. It resisted, but slowly turned its face toward me. Its face plate was fogged up, and I fought my better judgment. I leaned in close. I wished this day I hadn't. It was dark, but I could all too clearly make out the features. Rodding flesh. The person wearing this helmet had long since passed away. It lost my confidence, starting to scream. My combs were blazing, divers, and topsides were frantically trying to get my attention, but I was focused on one thing only. I was scrambling backward away from him, but I had fouled my ambilical around the rigging gear in my state of panic. Thing had again returned its focus to the minivan. As I frantically cleared myself from the slings, I noticed the telltale lack of bubbles coming from the helmet. It was opening the minivan door and reaching inside. As I swam away from the van, I washed a grab one of the passengers and dragged them into the darkness. This was when I began to realize I might not be cut out for working beneath the seas. I continued diving for longer than I knew I should. The entire time, the thought, lingering in the back of my mind, I needed to get a safer career. You know, maybe that is the time to quit, you know? Yeah, maybe the time to quit was a while ago. Yeah, I think that that one was the funnest. You know why that one I feel like was my favorite one so far. It was that made me almost think of those people that I don't know if they're investigating like divers that will go and like if they're trying to find a body in like a lake or something. Do you imagine that like kind of job of having to like not only console somebody that's like looking for answers, but sifting through the darkness of the waters, the murky ness of the waters and then just like slowly having that they like revealed in front of your face. My my father-in-law does that and he's talked about like how dark it is down there. You have to feel around and pretty much put hands on the body for you to confirm it. Really good lord. I mean, he's in fire department and it's like a small county in Tennessee, so it's he's diver certified. So it's like, hey, look who's searching rescue today. Cause it's probably the same that he was talking about where it's like a flashlight doesn't really, if you're kicking up stuff, it's just going to blind you anyways. It doesn't do anything. Yeah, god. Yeah, that's my my my my my lord could not. I yeah, I don't think I could do it. Yeah. I mean, I understand like there's guys who like want and hide adrenaline and stuff like that. And a lot of people, you know, pizza desk job, right? But there's other things that aren't desk jobs. and I think I'd rather do before I did that so. - I commend a lot of people with that. - The ocean just freaks me out. Being underwater freaks me out, I don't like the idea of being somewhere that I have to have equipment to live. - Yeah, yeah, no same. - I mean, I commend a lot of the people that actually do that shit though. Like to have the mental fortitude to actually stay calm and be in the right mindset under those kinds of circumstances, 'cause I just feel like I would just, I mean, it's obviously different, I'm not trained, but I just feel like I'd be in a constant state of panic. - Yeah, I'm good. I'm good, I'm, you know what, life's exciting enough. - Part three then? - Part three then, let's go. I apologize that it has taken so long for me to update you all. I've been resting on this story for the past week, scared to share it. I believe this will be my final update today. After my last post, I was contacted by my former diving supervisor. He told me the danger of sharing these stories and his tone changed. - Things are getting worse down here. He had never before spoken freely about it with me, but he continued. - We didn't send this last weekend. We lost him in. - I was shocked. We all know the dangers. We've all seen the keepers of the deep. But nobody actually expects to die. After a close call or two, you just expect to keep having close calls. He continued. - I respect for our fallen. You need to just, you should best judgment before sharing this and realize it isn't safe to share the story. - He then continued. - The team was contacted to perform a standard salvage job for the military. They had been incredibly vague about the work, but indicated that a vessel had gone down. The dive team and their gear were loaded aboard a US naval ship to be escorted to the project. This is abnormal, but not unheard of. But things became more and more strange as they traveled to the project. First, they were briefed by the commanding officer. You reviewed the confidentiality agreement regarding our work. Then the brief was turned over to a man who did not introduce himself. He explained that the Navy has been working on a prototype submarine. Its capabilities and new technologies would not be relevant to us. All we needed to know was that it was tremendous. The size would dwarf any sub we've ever witnessed. He then admitted that the Navy did not need routine salvage work, but assistance recovering their prototype. He briefed the team that four days prior, they had lost contact with the crew. So in our images showed the submarine resting on bottom, apparently intact, but nobody was responding to communication attempts. As the ship arrived on scene, they found that they were not alone. Nearly a dozen Navy ships were already awaiting their arrival. The divers were given the go ahead to get in the water and begin work. Their first task was to inspect the submarine for damage and hazards. They needed to provide a bottom report for the engineers to develop a plan for raising it. They didn't want us to regain it up, however, seemed fit to us. They needed the prototype and as good of a condition as possible. The divers entered the water and were soon in awe of the creation. It was like nothing they'd ever seen. It was tremendous. From where they descended, they could not see the forward or aft ends of the submarine and the water was abnormally clear. In addition, the sub was created out of what appeared to be a reflective metal woven into scales. It began inspecting the sub for damage. After they reached the maximum allowable bottom time, they were brought back to the surface to swap out without a pin. They reported to the next set of divers they'd explored from midship to the aft end and had found no apparent damage. Sub appeared to have gently set down in the sand. Okay, hold on. I don't think I've ever read this part before 'cause this isn't familiar, but my bear trap is going to be that the ship was swallowed. Well, no, they said they made it to aft end. I was going to say the ship was swallowed by some serpent and the thing that looked like scales was like the outside of the thing and now it's just resting there in the submarines inside of it, but they said they made it to aft end so that wouldn't make sense, so never mind. The next set of divers entered to inspect from midship to the forward end. They began advancing while inspecting for damage. About 10 minutes into the dive, one diver began tapping on the hull. Immediately, both divers reported that they could hear people inside the submarine banging against the hull and shouting. Couldn't understand what they were screaming, but the message was clear, they were terrified. Supervisor reported that they had found evidence that the crew was still alive. The divers continued advancing. There's about five more minutes before their next report. There were carvings across the submarine's metallic scaled surface. Hyroglips had been carved into the submarine and appeared to stretch from the very front of the submarine toward midship. Still, there were no signs of structural damage that would have caused the submarine to cease functioning. The divers returned to surface and the commanding officer was given a full report on the day's findings. The team was assured that the submarine was capable of sustaining the crew. They were eager to retrieve it, but the crew was believed to be in relatively little danger. As day two began, divers descended with instructions to locate four specified locations. Engineers needed to verify they were still structurally sound for attaching rigging. Immediately, the divers reported that they could still hear the banging coming from within. They began locating the rigging points quickly and easily. As they approached the forward into the ship, just within the region which was covered in carvings, they noticed a figure moving about. They both saw it, there was no denying it, but it soon disappeared from sight. The divers were unable to figure out where it had gone. They agreed to quickly find the remaining two points. It was quick work to remain in points were located. All four were intact and readily available for use. As they ready to return to surface, they were informed that there were two more locations they were being asked to inspect. There were supposedly two hatches, port and starboard, that the engineers had insisted needed to be checked. Supervisor was wary. The engineers up here got uneasy when they heard your reports of something moving around the ship. They stepped aside when they returned and insisted that you find the two hatches. I'm not sure what's going on. They're being very ambiguous. Please be cautious. The divers returned to the area and questioned and began closely re-examining the area. As they worked, they soon saw a figure emerging from the submarine. They were dragging a body out of the hatch. They froze and watched as it pushed the hatch closed and began dragging it into the distance. They then approached the spot and realized the hatch was almost indistinguishable between the scales and carvings on the submarine, but it was there. As they were reporting this, the hatch began to open again. Topside lost communication with the two divers. It was sheer panic on topside. The tenders were reporting strain on the divers' umbilicals. Standby diver dawned his helmet and prepared to get in the water. The umbilicals began violently shaking and pulling. Standby diver was clearly terrified, but nonetheless approached the side of the ship prepared to enter the water. The strain on the umbilicals released and suddenly the lines went limp in the water. A few moments later, air bubbles were erupting to the surface. The supervisor grabbed the standby diver and told him, "Get the divers and get out of there." He entered the water and began tracing out their umbilicals. His goal was to follow the umbilicals to the divers into stress. As he followed the umbilicals, he saw the air violently erupting from below and continued deeper. He reached the source. The umbilicals had been cut free of the divers and were pumping air into the water. Knowing the divers had no air supply, he urgently searched the area for the two divers. After five minutes, he found no sign and was ordered to inspect the hatch. The frantically made his way to the hatch, hoping beyond hope to find the divers alive. As he approached, he found the hatch open and saw the two bodies laying on the floor. He entered the space to retrieve them. As he did, he noticed several figures in the darkness of the room. He grabbed the nearest body and began pulling it as the figures rushed toward him. There were instantly upon him tearing at him in his gear. In fear, he released the body and attempted to flee the space. And the struggle, he freed himself and rocketed to the surface. He was pulled up and over the side of the ship unconscious. His bloodied body lay on the deck, likely suffering from an arterial gas embolism from his rapid ascent. Team rushed him into the hyperbaric chamber to treat him. The supervisor informed the commanding officer that all diving was being terminated. He had lost two men and one was in critical condition. There were inexplicable things happening on the submarine and he would not sacrifice more men. The treatment continued through the night and the diver regained consciousness. He told the supervisor he was done. He would not re-enter the water again, ever. He was assured nobody would be returning and that as soon as his treatment was complete, the entire team was returning to land. Next morning, the team was summoned for what was believed to be a debrief. They entered the room to speak with the commanding officer and his team of engineers. The CEO asked them to take a seat and informed them that they would not move forward with the salvage at the prototype. However, what was down there couldn't remain. Whatever was inside of the submarine had to be positively destroyed. The team was to re-enter the water and plant charges and locations specified by the engineering team. Supervisor was furious. He demanded that the team be taken back to the mainland and released from the ship. Armed centuries entered the room and restrained him. CEO again repeated his orders and clarified that the team would not be allowed to leave until the job was complete. Diveside was re-assembled under the watch of several armed sailors. The supervisor continued to protest the job. After over an hour of conflict, divers agreed, under the rest, to get in the water to plant the charges. The two divers entered the water. Fearfully, they moved to the specified locations and began placing the charges. They began hearing the banging and shouting coming from within the sub. The divers, understanding these men would be killed, began sobbing. The CEO came onto the comms and again explained they would not be allowed to leave until the job was complete. After regaining their composure, the two regretfully continued. Two completed their task and returned to the surface. In their shame, they refused to speak to anyone and left dive side. The ships began departing from the location and the team was again summoned. The commanding officers thanked them for their service to their great nation and informed them they would be handsomely rewarded for the regrettable tragedy they had encountered. They then went over the confidentiality of the job and everything they had witnessed. His final words to them were, "Previous events have been leaked to the public. Please realize there will be a real consequences for any leaked information about what happened here today. My supervisor and at the conversation stated in the entire team that agreed they were going to leave the diving company. The fear of the deep sea and remorse for the job were too great. Told me, there are some places man simply isn't meant to explore and that's the end of the confessions of a deep sea diver." I really think that just getting more time with it just felt a lot of fun. The other stories were like captivating little bite-sized ideas, but there's I think the lack of not even necessarily character development or anything, but just the being able to be around the characters and have more of a threat build or feel like there's more stakes or characters that are actually in trouble or something. It just linted itself really well, just having a little bit longer of a format. I think a lot of these ideas would make for a really killer longer ideas, you know? Yeah, I think you could do a lot with it. I think the story was at its strongest when it was just kind of like to me the best segment was one about the down bridge because it's real tragedy about like people trapped in cars. I think so. Yeah, that one. When a bridge goes down, but and then it mixes in the supernatural of like these ghost divers show up to drag bodies, like it's more bodies to add to the pile and it drags them off into the darkness. I think that was the most effective. This third one, I mean, it was the same thing, but with the summary, which is a fine idea, but the elements of the military like, yeah, it's absurd. The military would use non-military members for this secret dive, but also to be like, oh, they're holding us at gunpoint until we blow up the summary. It's just kind of like whatever, but I did like, I think the story was at its peak when it mixes the real horror of being underwater with the idea of these like ghost divers at the end of this, but the end of part to you was the strongest to me. The bridge, the bridge one definitely is the best. I think like even just a story of like when I brought up the idea of like they're just the thought of the people who like go to the lakes and have to like find bodies or something like that would be a really cool. That'd be a cool story too. I agree, though, like the human element and like the emotional sting of that story, I think made it the most captivating and it just made it the most interesting and heartbreaking. It was the most effective for sure. Yeah, yeah, by far. I agree. You know, for also a story that's fucking almost 12 years old, it's cool to go back and look at like once again, kind of the trend of what was popular back then of these little bite-sized segments and, you know, just like, and then this thing happened and then one time this happened and then this and then and then that happened and then yeah, but it's a, I don't know, it's just such a clear indication of when it was written and I think that there's always that always tugs on my heartstrings too a bit of just like that was just what was the meta back then or whatever, you know? Yeah, yeah, but well, we can I liked it. It was fun. We can go over to Tails from the creeps now and read a silent girl from a wayling sea. Yep. Yes, we can. All right. So once again, this one is posted, which again, uh, Pizz and we're going to have him linked in the description for you. Enjoy confessions of a deep sea diver. Be sure to check them out. It's got other stories on no sleep that I'm sure you'll enjoy. So for this story, a silent girl from a wayling sea. It's again, posted to Tails from the creeps. So a fan of the show, uh, sufficient leave. One, four, four is also posted several memes to our slash creep cast, which is funny. Um, most of them making fun of us and the stories we tell so fittingly. Uh, and now we have the story for them a silent girl from a wayling sea. Sounds cool. Hunter, are you ready to get into it? Oh, I'm ready. Let us begin. They called them the blue boys because by the time the sea spits them back out, the cold has died their skin, tracing their veins into go, turning firm, strong lads and a stiff statues, blowed in salt. We've buried three this month, three half empty coffins. It's the water. It doesn't return all it takes three more doors to knock on three more families to destroy with all but a whispered few words and a salvage trinket from drifting pieces of i-lated vessel. Jesus. We were a modest town once defined by our close-knit camaraderie or livelihoods endowed by the priming life of the mure. But now it only strangles us with loudish, nautical hands, drowning in its patrons in a trench of loss and fear. It only syncs us more with each passing funeral. Okay, immediately strong start. Very strong wording. I love that three half empty coffins as the water doesn't return all it takes. That's good. Very, very, very poetic. Yeah. You know what? People make fun of me. They're like all it takes for Isaiah to buy in is like a iteration and you know symbolism and stuff like that. You know what? I got my money and I'm buying it. So it tastes good. You're the one reading it out loud. So it's it's a nice taste in your mouth. You know, so of course you're gonna like it. The the chef has come to the table. He has let me sample the hors d'oeuvres and I've ordered it from the menu now. So I'm buying it for me. Every clerk, every shopkeeper, every conversation has become blighted with worry and superstition. The dogs are emptier than anyone has ever known. Many veteran tamers of the waves are reluctant to face the tide that has claimed so many. Gone are the days of children chasing goals across the shore, faces smudged with brine and glee. Gone are the days of gathering feasts of music and bonfires and old tales shouted over cider and boiled crab. I lived here most of my life. A family hailing from distant shores, braced against the gales that can batter our cottages. The salted wind has carved lines into my young face. The sun has nearly faded my eyes. Watching the place I was born into, tingle itself up like seaweed clinging to a hole. I might have been the first to break at someone not stolen the privilege on a fog coated afternoon than the warm walls of our local watering hole. I'll tell this whole damn room for not lads. Brave had shouted from his pistain corner booth, wafted in an odorous bubble of beer with his weary crew. The blue boys aren't just bad luck. No, it's not the sea taking what she wants. It's something far far, and you know well who's broken about it. His rant quickly earned the attention of the crowded room, and he noticed, reveling in the attention. That old keeper light, I, the oe the glassy star, he'd been modern strains word to the last high tide. The last season I'd seen him. And the first young and washed up, no, a day later. His eyes met the room of trunk curious listeners. So I again, I bought it now. I'm ordering a double portion. I immediately love the setup that there's these dead bodies, the seas killing people and now some old person's blame it on the lighthouse keeper. What a fun setup. Also, I feel like there was a part of you that was born to play the role of a, of a like salty old sailor in a heart. Yeah. Yeah. I feel like that just that, like just your whole personality and the way you do voices that just fit you so well. Good. Also, what is a, what is a mirror? I think it's the name of town. That's what they're calling the town. But I think that's the name for like a lagoon town. I may be wrong. Myrrh. Myrrh is a Scotts word for more or more land and Irish Scottish get a term for sea. So more. Yeah. So maybe just like basically the town. Yeah. It was the bartender of all people who encouraged the revered fisherman as I made myself even quainer on my lonely table, praying to be ignored. Perhaps someone should pay the old bloke of visit. He said just loud enough to be heard. I saw glints begin to spark in their boozy eyes. The mob, not unlike the ones where my parents' homeland's stories was forming. Four months of this torture, they longed for someone to blame, someone to punish. Rafe's eyes went wild as a feral grin spread over his mouth. The others were already rousing, sloshing down their drinks and beginning to roar in agreement. There's sticky fists pounding tables. I shrank further into the dark panic ride into my stomach. His eyes met mine. Still keeping your nose out of the wind. Loss. Is it Rafe or Raffa? I think Rafe sounds Rafe sounds more Rafe. I'm not sure. You're asking the wrong guy. Yeah. Who cares? I shook my head. Rafe was in no mood to let anyone slip this net. He lurched himself across the room, scratching his Stool along the floorboards as his crowd of rubble and Ruckus took form. "It was one of your kin, Nye." He pressed, voice low. "You want to see this in, Nye?" He cried, and the crowd surged at his words. Some faces scared with grief. Some faces scarred with grief. Others aflame with the thrill of violent justice. Hybrath became shallow as rave clamped, rough, leathery hand on my shoulder. There would be no denying him, not in front of such a crowd, so I nodded. "Good girl." I was only a child when I first met the keeper, chasing my younger sister among the wildflowers and tough seagrass at the foot of that looming bleached tower. The summer air was warm and thick, with the scent of coarse and honeysuckle. As her laughing came to an abrupt end when my foot caught on a hidden route, sending me tumbling into a mess of green. The sting in my knees startled out a sharp cry, and my sister's panicked face hovered above me. Through teary eyes, I saw him approach from forbidden steps. Tall, the stiffness to his stride, and a kindness in his weathered look. Quite the wound lit, a lighty, inelts at my side, producing a clean handkerchief and a rest-itent avoidment. His large, worn hands were gentle, as he cleansed the scrape, and as he worked, humming a foreign tune to himself, he soon coaxed a wobbly smile for my sister, and me with peculiar stories. Tales of shipwrecks, rare seabirds, and midnight flowers from lost islands that only revealed themselves under the lighthouse's beams. Yet it is stories with warning, little girls should know better than deploy by the lighthouse. Even then, I sensed something otherworldly in his manner, as if he belonged to another realm. But that day, beneath an endless blue sky, he was a quiet and straightforward hero who mended my wound and sent us home with a handful of sweets and a newfound reverence. Future encounters were always fleeting over the years. Sometimes, I see him dredging through the mist at daybreak, shaped voured by an old oil-skinned coat, carrying pales from the shore. Other times, we share a nod at the market. His eyes never quite find in mind, constantly darting towards the sea as if it spoke his name. Once I watched him min fishing nets at the rocks, his hands deft and silent, humming that same foreign melody only the goals seemed to answer. People spoke rarely to him, but children watched from behind fences, trading chronicles of his magic, or his curse. But I remember clearest the night his light went out. The beam, so constant, suddenly vanished, and our harbor became shrouded in black. It was the same night the first body was found. Face blue, eyes wide, the bells were deafening. No one slept. By morning, the lighthouse door was bolted, the keeper nowhere to be found. Must have sheltered himself inside for reasons unknown, ignoring all begs and demands that meant his doorstep. No more than a few nights later, was when last I saw my stubborn sister. When the sun had barely slipped beneath churning waves, I woke to the sounds of the bedroom door, snickened shut. At first, I believed it was a dream. The familiar wind was rattling on the latch, but when I felt across the bed, her side was cold and indented. At the front door, was swinging open. I felt to call her name as my bare feet met the sandy path towards the shore. There, at the border of her restless surf, I saw her as she walked gently into the sea. Her white nightgown trailing behind her like a wisp of a cloud. She gave not one look back at my franic waves and gestures, not a word. The water swallowed her, quick and silent, before I could even reach the pier. They found her days later. What was left? Her face bobbing along the water surface amidst a foaming froth. She was one of the earliest, a blue boy. She had never been a boy at all, four months, four months of silent grief, manifesting finally, to a lantern lit, strained march through the fog. Her crowd moved as a single muttering mass, boots scuffing the damperth, light swinging shadows across sour, tense faces. I wished to walk at the rear, just another soul swept up and avengeful resolve, looking only at gnarled fist instead of red rimed eyes, but rave insisted that I walked with him at the front. His voice slid in low, grim burst, knuckles wide around the handle of a meat cleaver. In my place, somewhere behind, a boy began to quietly sob to themselves as the lighthouse, a pale spectre at the edge of the world emerged. Rave took an unwavering step towards the silent, dead monolithic tower. My stomach twisted at every tail and a single kindness clashed with a contagious anger and dread driving us forward. We would not be halted. Only the echoes of our siege would spill across the bay and distant, mournful cries of goals overhead. Rave pounded his fist on the floor. "Open up! We know you're in there!" His minions became wired, twitching with driftwood clubs, knives and whatever other instruments they could use to inflict harm, a restless collective of twenty strong, brave bodies. Is that what we were there to do? Heard him? I made myself scarce, ushering away from our leader to a withered bed of wildflowers. Rave began to attack the door, hacking into its thick wooden seams without most ferocity. It was fruitless. Zeverds becoming deranged and desperate, until a titan of a man stepped forth, armed with a hammer. He gestured to the handle and hinges, weak points, and assisted rave with long, tedious task of ripping down a door. Every strike, every crack of the wood, every morsel of progress made jolt at the crowd like they were starved dogs, taunted by fresh meat, door eventually surrendered. Red from its frame by three men, it was hurled down the cliffs to meet splintering demise. Rave, sweating, spun around, to find me amidst the dine flowers. His eyes manic beneath the wet and massive as a fringe, offered me a hand. "Justice, fire sister girl!" I didn't believe I had a choice. I slowly took his offer and we became the first to enter. We stepped into a spacious, circular chamber of slick, moistened walls and peeling green paint. Spiral staircase, iron treads crested with rust, wooden hand rails worn smooth, staked upwards along the wall, and down, vanishing into a murky gloom. As a handful of us filtered in, we wearly inspected the central living space. It was sparse. A small cot with a threadbare blanket set beneath a porthole window. A small cot with a threadbare blanket set beneath a porthole window streaked with barnacles. An iron stove, cold and black, stood in a corner, flanked by a chipped kettle, a battered, cluttered workbench set on another side, overflowing with sea charts and waterlogged tomes. Shelves held strange objects, wooden carvings, jar of cloudy water, and faded parchedments of strange symbols. One stood out, a carving larger than the others. Maybe a foot high, stained a dark, greenish black, was a hunched figure of thrashing tentacles, encroaching wings, and clawed feet half buried in chiseled ripples. Its bulbous head was crowned with curling segmented palpy. Its eyes were deep set, hollow shadows, rough gouges resembling scales were precisely marked long its torso and limbs. Several villagers drew back, almost by instinct, while others clustered closer, pulled by a curious lore. A young man, tears still well in his eyes, became infatuated with the pungent piece of wood. He am detuned to himself as he bowed his head when I had heard before from a far older, conclusive man. I like that note randomly. This man is from the same area as the light keeper, and then there's like a similarity between the two. In this moment of desperation, it's more commonality than this thing they're witnessing. That's a nice little subtle tone, I like that. Rave's eyes were fixed on the effigy. Beside him, faint murmurs bubbled out, while behind us, Lainard's flickered, once, twice, and the wind let out a keen, pounding sigh. Someone in the rear, your where I had found myself, shuffled with uncertainty, glazing at him, it seemed the entrance itself had grown further away, then the young man spoke in a pitiful quivering whisper, "Less or so priest." A suffocating silence fell upon the room. It happened too fast. Opened my eyes and spun to count the faces. Rave, the boy, and myself, and no one. Footprints dampened, scattered, traced aimless tracks on the stone. The others were gone. Extinguished as quickly as they'd burned, blanked out in an instant. Rave bolted to the door, chest heaving, his bravado wavered. "No! No! Where'd you go?" His plea boomed out into the still silent fog. The hush shiver that ran on my back felt colder than the sea itself. Rave rounded to the boy, now kneeling before the idol, praying in a dialect I could not understand. "What have you done, boy?" He spat his voice shaking, as he smashed the statue from the shelf, breaking the boy free from whatever cell it trance he was in, replaced with a heavy weight of sudden, unexplainable loss. A mob no more. We were witnesses to an inexplicable phenomenon. So the boy is from the same land that the lightkeeper is, right? And this effigy is something the two of them worship. So when the boy came up to it, said, "Bless us, oh priest, everyone else just disappears." I don't know if he's from the same land, right? I just thought that he was, I thought that he's just connected with whatever effigy and yeah, like fucking, basically just eviscerated everyone around them, right? Yeah, like they just got blinked out of existence. Yeah. That's what it sounds like. So the boy is from, I thought it was just like, oh, they're from the same land. But now I realized by priest, he met this effigy and now he's praying in front of it. So whatever effigy, the light keeper set up this boy also praised you. Yeah. Yeah, same kind of like religion, whatever it is. Yeah. The boy stammered to free words from his mouth as Rafe, violently, hoisted him up by the neck and shoved him into a wall. Are you bewish son, cursed, hexed? The boys pleaded and eyes found me, timid shapes scuttling her way to the exit. Metal clings erupted from the staircase, something was still here downstairs. Rafe swapped targets in, like an animal, skittered his way to the first step of the descent. The boy becoming no more than a memory. Your name, lad. Yes, he's transfixed on the darkness before his boots. Can't Caleb? Are you one of mine? No, sir. You're now, lead us down, Caleb. So yeah, because Rafe's a ship captain. Right. So, and it's a shipping town, it's like, hey, you're now deputized as a sailor. First duty as first mate, go down that staircase. He stepped to the side, fire blazing in his eyes, gestured for the boy to take the plunge. As he did, he caught me almost loose from the stolema. And where the flying fuck do you think you're going, lass? I'm getting out of here, sir. No shit. Did you not see everyone else get hit by the way I don't know if you saw that, but everyone just got snapped out of existence. I would like to very much leave. Thank you. But I have fun with killing that guy or whatever. I've fun with killing the guy who prays to the disappearing, unless he's saying, unless he's saying it in a way where he's just like, where do you, like, this is not safe. You should stay near me. Maybe. No, no, no, because she was trying to go out the front door. Okay. I pressed myself so tightly against the wall, I nearly hoped to disappear into it. My breath caught somewhere between my chest and throat. Every muscle bolstered an anxious stiffness. As the trembling boy took a shaky step into the breach, I could do nothing but watch as an unforgiving darkness consumed his entire form and then rave, once again, offered me his hand and I a final time sold across the room and took it. It was a laboratory, a sprawling, timeless cavernous layer, the walls cut with mineral stains of marine horror, green and orange tinted lanterns, bat with puffy moths, illuminated the ugly metallic din of shunned, heinous science. Pickled messes, festored in stained jars, eels nodded in impossible shapes, milky crabs with too many legs, clots of eggs glued to terrariums, tools and trinkets where plenty amidst dense notebooks. Single giant chalkboard brutalized with equations and sketches squatted it in the corner of corrosion. Scribbled mat is crept along and down its surface like a lead. Good God. This is just so good. Good God. This is yeah. Yeah. The descriptions are fantastic. Places fantastic. This is right up my alley. So hard. You know, it's these kind of descriptions too. I mean, like just the little hints of words, like rust and like even just though this room, it's almost like you can, you can smell the mold that's in the air. You know, I mean, like just that kind of like wet towel smell that fills this room, yeah, basically like compounded between dust and moisture. It's just, yeah, it's, it's really sick. Also too, is it bad? Or is this just a guy also just like stuck in a lighthouse and he's just been doing like awful sciences, just awesome. Yeah. Well, or maybe for all we know there is, because people have been disappearing. Maybe there is something in this town and he's keeping it at bay with these experiments or something like that possibly because the boy didn't seem to make everyone disappear. It seems like the boy started praying and then for some reason, the three of them were the only ones who did not disappear. Oh, interesting. You're saying that this is like almost like, he could be like a protective thing. Yeah. Yeah. Interesting. Because otherwise, if the boy prayed for everyone to disappear and he's so scared, why then when the guy threw him up against the wall, he'd be like, I don't, I don't, you know, like, yeah, it's like something was coming for all of them at once and he casted protection on them when he prayed, rather that because if he wanted everyone to disappear, he would have made Rey from the girl to disappear too, right? Also, is it bad that while we were getting the description of the laboratory, the first thing I thought of was that room at the end of the SpongeBob movie where, you know, the two of them are being, they're under the lamp. Like, I'm a goofy, goober. Yes. A seaside like a craft table room with just like a bunch of like different, yeah. So like, well, while that, like, very good description is going on in my head, it was like, there was a dried out sponge and pink starfish on the table has a certain age to it. Yeah. I know. I whenever, whenever you said also good, whenever they rolled up to it, it had just such a Frankenstein vibe to it of like the people coming to the, uh, to the windmill with the torches. Yeah. So now it just has this kind of like almost gothic, uh, aesthetic to me in my, in my head. Yeah. Yeah. Ocean Frankenstein. And well, it reminds me of the lighthouse like the, yeah. Yeah. People and like, said it and everything. Yeah. In another corner with an crystal clear cylinder of glass was a fair, beautiful young woman alive and awake, her eyes longing towards the three of us up to her waist and brown, bloody water. I'm out. This is definitely a mermaid and they definitely should not open that tank. Her mouth stretched to speak and from the gaping depths of her throat came only crackled in audible girdles, frustrated. She struck her glass prison, splashing out like a flailing fish and clawed at her own neck, as if desperately trying to find her own voice. But in another voice crawled out of the dark instead, fractured and wet. They called it mercy once, to be loved by the tide, to be promised in the sea, it's a lie. Keep her emerge from the shadows, waddling into the light, drenched and slimy, with bloated, saturated mossy skin, ready to burst like a balloon. The cracks in his face were if fizzing saltwater oozed out and dripped to the floor with a soggy splat. His eyes were glazed and tended with a shade of coral pink and he unceremoniously stung like a long dead rotten troll. He slugged his way to his prisoner, resting a hand on the glass. Every word he spoke took tremendous, gagging effort. "You showed me, didn't you? I heard you, I heard him, but there is no soul left now, but one with the chorus of gold bark and struck in the deep by those far older than I, with things far uglier than to see yourself." He turned to face us, his prisoner grudging, his very presence. "They took your little marching mob one by one, to the shore where you slept. Do you remember, go and look." Rafe marched towards the castle, keeper, his stench making him gag. "Enough with your ambulance, old man. Where have you become? What dark work have you woven?" His eyes met the imprisoned woman, tapped and fidgeted within her case. "And who the fuck sustain?" The keeper's lips curled into something like a smile, water beach dripping from the gap in his mouth. As if on cue, said curse within her glass cage began to convulsen seize. The keeper began retreating into the darkness from when he came, as he miserably sifted through various tools across the table. A vigorous thunder rattled the towers, the woman's blue eyes flashed an impossibly bright pink, immediately, a searing light, far more colorful than the core lean tint in the keeper's own eyes, flared in both Rafe's and Caleb's stares. Their body stiffened and turned in unison, their fish trembled, and a bloodless frenzy unthrawled them, warping their faces into hardened masks of unfiltered rage and purpose. The woman behind the glass, her more uncanny features momentarily illuminated by the light from her eyes, stared solely at me, a power unmistakable, but somehow utterly useless on my mind. "Yeah, it's a siren that convinces men to do things," attempted. Rafe was first, dropping his cleaver and charging the keeper with a roar that was merely human. Caleb followed, silent, but wild, with his hands outstretched. The keeper's arms raised in a reflexive defense, but there was a moment of understanding in his shocked eyes. Before the chaos, as he looked only, transfixed at his beautiful prisoner, the two men pounced on him, raining down blows with primal violence, echoing through the chamber a symphony of splattering blood and brutality. The woman looked to the cleaver with a silent plea that it may and the cleaver again. I'm not sure what compelled me. beauty, sympathy, the fear that rave and Caleb still leery and would soon aim at me, but my hand found the cleaver's grip, raised it, and brought it crashing down on the curved glass, and cracked, shivering under the blow, and then burst outwards, cold, briny, murky, bloody water rushed out, swirling me up as I tumbled to the floor. My limbs becoming twisted with a woman as she gassed and coughed up foam, her voice still a hoarse, wordless kerkel, she studied herself, grateful for a moment, I saw only lost stars in her charming eyes as to light within them flickered, she kissed me, passionately, intimately, and every sense to nerve within me detonated as a torn of water gushed from her mouth into mine. I pushed her off, choking and spluttering, much to her visible to smay, as rave rolled around to face us, angry and confused, covered in blood and grime, while Caleb shaking silently wept over the keeper's broken, motionless body, monster, he was upon us in seconds. The woman scampered up to her feet, stretching her limbs and squaring her shoulders as a wild mess of swinging fist salted her. She deflected the first blow, but rave strikes were reckless as he, for lack of a better description, started to beat the shit out of her. In the fray, almost slipping in the water at our feet, I found myself bringing the cleaver down on his shoulder, ejecting a geyser of blood, a flailing, panicked elbow connected sharply with my temple. I could barely hear the woman strangled gasp as my vision dazzled into spots, the world slipping away, and then muffling the shouts and an ear ripping scream, my eyes dragged me into an empty blank nothingness. I remember a sky swollen with clouds, my hands raw from gripping the splintered rim of a skiff, birds cry somewhere above, unseen, and every swell of the waves feels like it will tip this fragile shell into the drink. A pedicote clings to me, sawed in a freezing, salt stings my lips and each breath devolves more into a rasp, the lantern at the prowl reveals my distant brothers, left a drown with what remains of the vessel. This air-promised adventure, a lie, it only promises the grim patience of the sea, awaiting the young and naive to embark on their voyages, to abandon their civil, industrial safeties. I see a shape moving amidst the wreckage, a shout, my voice breaking in the wind, but there is no answer, the horizon is nothing. The shore behind us is erased, lamps from a distant harbor are mere pinpricks, if they're even there at all, my arms beck into ache as I row and row until my muscles tear and blisters open, my pained cries and whimpers lost to the cold, I am alone, I am going to die. The wind lashes at me, fears and cunning as my lifeboat grows still, helplessly veering in the waves, I curl into a ball as a monstrous, dark master's beneath me, too large to belong to any earthly whale, and I must your every prayer possible for my blue tongue, and then I hear it, as if something below answered my small surrender, a song, ancient, hungry. And my last memory of this mortal coil was not a fear, but a bliss as I looked to the side of my boat, the splashing of waves, to find the kind, smiling face of a woman with shrinking pink eyes, offering her hand. This was not my life, this was not my mind, my memories, my dreams, I am again, a witness to something phenomenal, to a life most monstrous and wonderful, or deep beneath the fathomless blue, or no sunlight there's wonder, my skin, supple, scale, and a glimmering teal glides through black water. Around me is an endless choir, my sisters, raising a song that rattles the bones of lost sailors, their boats wreck, their limbs slack, and their eyes drift as our music winds them into peace, and pulls them gently through the frigid water, and into our arms, mercy, and a balm to the ears of the one who slumbers in the most bottomless abyss, his occupancy is a constant tumor on my mind, vast and incomprehensible. We weave our melodies not for ourselves, or the lost souls at sea, but to lull him, to shield the waking world from his gaze and soothe his endless night, marriage hunger between his dreams. Sometimes I am rewarded, and I rise to collect new blood for his ranks, a gift in a tribute, another sister, one night, a storm's gnash at an island where the veil between land and sea is thin, I surface a top foaming rocks, I sing as I have sung since the first flood, my voice threshes through the hearts of men. I do not notice that one of them is a hunter, until the harpoon pierces my side and the net falls tied to steal around me. My gnashing teeth and glittery eyes fail to frighten him as the utter's words and an old tongue, poisoned with grief, and hums the melody of my own kin, dragging me onto his ship, chained, exhausted, wounded, and dry, my voice shrinks into a whisper as I am buried away, away from sisters and songs and a deep lord across harsh, foreign waters to a tower of stone glass on a thriving oblivious coast, beneath the indifference sweeps of light beams he imprisons me, first in the tank, then a cage, then a cylinder of brackish water. He studies my voice, notes my every attempt to sing and a quest to unravel the music, until my throat begins to fail, but I do not forget, nor do I forgive the icy stare of the man who watches and waits as my memory of the depths bleeds into the harsh walls of his dungeon. He drips potions into my prison, wafting scents and hallucinogenic spasms into my eyes, loosening a long-buried anchor in the recesses of my mind, beyond my lord's throbbing presence. It is not a blessed recollection, it is a torturous regurgitation of morality. The drizzle of London mornings, the clack of tie-priders, smell of a waxed floor and fresh ledgers. I sit tucked behind a brass screen to window, counting coins. My days are only an orderly routine. Not an eternal life amidst the blue, it is a cancer, embrace of my mother, the sternness of my father, flicking through a newspaper, and a laughter of my youngest brother echoing down the halls of our home, a night comes. It blooms with candlelight dinners as I set aside a man unknown to me. Whose fingers brush my red hair from my face. We dream quietly of escape, of ships, of wide water, of building a life of fewer ordeals. I remember loving his eyes, the way he said my name, the way I once believed that my future had room for joy. In the island just for us, Sophie. My heart aches and breaks as I see myself sweeping down cobbled streets and hear the city's noise so, so distant now. There's a grand ship, crew of my siblings, and a promise wrapped around the finger of my love. There's a hurry goodbye. The faces of my parents blur with pride and anxiety. The embraces of my friends are warm. For these stolen minutes, I am simply a girl, a daughter, a sister, a clerk, a lover, never dreaming that her voice my one day still the sorrow and a drowned god. And then I return to the vat, a monster again, to watch my captor unravel. A timeless ritual churned on with my own thoughts. I see the slow hunch eat his shoulder, his finger swell, his eyes dim with a pink glow he thought himself immune to. Something far worse than my song could reach him. Within the comfort of his own dreams, his feet faltered, and he would stumble between scattered notes, sometimes pausing to stare at me with a bagging hollow gaze as if I might forgive him, or appease the one that insulted his sleep. Other times, he would speak to things only he could see, muttering names I'd never known. On the worst days, he would press his head to my glass and weep with rodent wounds, each breath tearing through brittle lungs, once he tried to hum a half remembered lullaby, but his voice broke, rotten, rotten. I suddenly awoke from the fracture dream of sea winches, and a doomed old man jolting into a room, saw him with violence and gore. I pushed myself up from cold stones, my head still throbbing from rave cell, though my ears ringing with the memory of toxic water forced down my throat. Man, that gosh, I really liked that. How did you feel about that whole segment? It's great. I liked that it comes from the perspective of a mermaid or a siren, and then how the man captured her. I think it's cool. I think that's a cool way to show the lore here, because all we get from just the girl, the last, as she's been called, perspective, is the sea keepers, this old man who's covered in brine and he has a mermaid locked up, but then from the the mermaid pushing the water down her throat because, you know, mermaids possess what and not, uh, mermaids possess men, not women, but it can share the emotions with her. She sees the mermaids whole history. She was in love with the man and they were going to sail across the sea, but then the shipwreck. So then she dies on a dinghy, trying to paddle away, like just from exhaustion. And then the mermaids take her to join them. But I love that the mermaids aren't just like taking men underwater to eat them. They sing the song to appease a drowned God. And there's like an infinite number of them under the seas than a hunter captures her, but he's been compelled by something else. That's such cool lore to show this character through a flashback that the mermaid gave her, basically giving her life story. That's fun. That's so cool. For a moment, as my vision cleared, the world wobbled as it halves submerged. Then I saw them. Rafe's body sprawled in a widening crimson pool. His eyes empty, fixed on the ceiling. His face frozen into the grimace of whatever horror was unleashed upon him. Caleb, too, was crumpled against the wall, neck twisted at an impossible angle. Sophie, I think that was her name, lay by the stairs. Her skin gleamed with a blue-green sheen of a caught fish. Her legs had become a shimmering tail of quartz scales and fins and her ribs, gills, ragged, heaving, slick with dew, opened and closed along her sides, twitching desperately as she gulped for air. Her fingers, tipped with bladed red claws, clutched at the metal steps. Her face was still beautiful, but her eyes, pale in pink, were wide with panic. She reached for me, mouthing a wordless request. A dare not move, rooted by shock and pity, as her tails slapped the ground in an attempt to communicate or failed to strive to move, and then sprouted in my skull, a deep rhythm, a pulsing worm shoving my doubts aside until a single goal remained. Help her. Help your sister. Oh, I like that, too, because she lost her sister at the beginning to the lightkeeper, and that's what the mermaid prayed on to insert herself as her sister, also, potentially being taken by the lightkeeper at least she believes. That's cool. And also given that, you know, she's seen all this different. I mean, they have a kenship now, most seeing how this is all happening. Yeah. Also, because like mermaids, you know, drag sailors to their death and stuff like that, but it was even framed to the girl as sympathetic. Like, well, it's not for me. I'm just, you know, it's for the drowned god. I have no say in the matter as she kills people as two more men lay dead in here because of her. But it's like, well, what am I to do about it? That's interesting. My timid hands found her body. Moving with the mind of their own, and with every ounce of strength I could muster, I cradled her into my arms, into my chest, and lugged her out of from the grim, dark prison that had been her home for an eon. She grew colder and stiffer as we ascended those rusted steps. Her battle for breath becoming a one-sided war of grit, till we emerged out of the lighthouse, free to a wilted garden and a town on the brink of oblivion. The fog had subsided, replaced with a catastrophic, raging storm of cutting gales and cataclysmic thunder, as if the gods themselves were planning to rip our grizzly residents from the earth and hurl it to the heavens. Every home shook, every latched window rattled. The whales of life stock cut through the madness as debris and produce and materials were flung up into the sky and down the street. A weak, clawed finger gently tapped my chest as I braced against the elements. I looked down at the one I carried to see her pointing to the beach, to the sea, with the epicenter of the storm originated. Manifested as an unrivaled, titanic tornado of torrential wind and dark water, crackling and sparking with grotesque, eldritch lighting of green and pink, the crisp of the horizon. This lightning flashed amid those smoldering, smoking clouds, a monstrous silhouette became visible within the hurricane. Unimposibly large, hulking behemoth, older than the sea itself, to features, all too familiar, here to reclaim what was rightfully his. Man, that's so cool. That's so cool, I love that. The weak cords of a song left Sophie's lips as we journeyed to the shore, while the pairs out of my head throbbed and moaned in sync. Every man, woman, child I had ever seen through my years, stood waiting amongst the sand and the rocks and the pebbles and across the wooden boards of the harbor, the pier or stood still throughout the street, not a lick of motion to their bodies, not a glimmer of life in their unblinking eyes as they stared, 300 lives at the least, at the approaching nautical colossal, wrapped in a coat of unstoppable nature. The surf bit in my knees as we reached the water, the cold stinging more than any wound, so I gently lowered Sophie to be embraced by the waves, for a breath, nothing, been, with a violent jerk, her tail shivered and flexed. Scales flashing brilliantly in the lightning's glare, as she reeled upright, drawing great, greedy gulps of air, her lips spitting into a wide and triumphant smile. But, newly alive and electric, she did not race towards the monstrous silhouette dwelling at the storm's core. Instead, she lingered, floating beneath the surface, her luminous eyes locked with mine, believed and terrified. Something intelligible slipped from her mouth, carried upon a strong melody, snuck through the screaming wind. "Thank you," the storm itself hushed for a heartbeat, the towering titan seemed to pause, hungry tendrils just out of reach, as if even the sea recognized the power that returned to its bosom. She grand, holding my gaze, and, as if it was the most critical decision in her life, she slowly offered me a hand, an invitation, a promise of escape, of belonging, of power. But my heart clenched with memory, the ghost of a sister, an empty house devoid of life, an escapeable loss and the weight of a bargain at sea. I shook my head, standing against the rip tide. No, the word is soft, nearly swept away. "I can't," Sophie smiled, fumbled, her eyes blinked with understanding and sorrow, and she bowed her head, pressing a cool, webbed palm to the water surface. "Under stars, when you dream your last," then she was gone, darting off into the dark deep towards her lord. Several shapes and bodies emerged, and swam beside her, his song began to tuck in my bones, on faltering as it reached the storm. I blinked, a reflex, another more than a nervous flutter of lashes, and it all disappeared, so sudden and complete that it snatched the air for my lungs. The air was warm then, touched with the delicate golden perfume of summer and the general hiss of a lazy tide. I stood alone under a clear blue sky, wet sand clinging to my ankles, as the innocent sparkle of the sun tassled off the waves. It had never looked more beautiful, no tragedy, nothing unnatural had ever trespassed here. "Are you all right, Lus?" I squinted as a gruff figure approached, his jacket too big, patched and weathered, a fisherman, one of Rafe's old crew. He halted a few steps away, concerned furrowing in his brows, he studied my face. "Norah?" "State's girl?" "Elle's sister, yeah?" Clanston certainly at the tide, them back at me, his anxiety deepening, circles under his eyes. "Lashmari, what are you doing, girl?" "You want to think of the fall on your sis, where are you?" "I. no." I managed, voice then. His gaze widened, weary, as if part of him didn't believe I could speak. "Let's. let's get you home, Lasia." In the days that followed, I moved through life half awake, wandering the rooms of my family's being cottage, absorbed by absence and silence. The fisherman found me again, whose kindness was gentle and a bit awkward, and he offered me a place to board his trawler. Perry's ship Rafe once commanded. I joined the crew, not as a figure of authority, but as calloused hands to mend nets, hall crates, and steady hearts as we venture onto the mirror. The work was hard and cold. The water, sometimes restless, but I found a strange comfort in the repetition, and a sense of belonging in the rowdy brotherhood of the crew. When the catch was poor, I found myself meandering to the cemetery on the hillside, wind tugging at my coat as I stood before rows of faded stones. I left flowers and mourn for the ones I'd lost, anticipating when the next body would wash ashore. But inexplicably, no more went missing, no deaths, no funerals, no blue boys, never again. Whenever dreaded, cryptard town had loosened its grip. Nights would bring strange vivid dreams, glimpses of an ancient city far beneath the waves of pale sirens trailing red hairs through coral towers of songs echoing from impossible depths to soothe far more impossible creatures. I awoke each morning struck by a fierce sense of longing and relief. Most unexpectedly, I became friends with the new lighthouse keeper, a younger man recently arrived from across the strait. We brought unknown wonders of the world, one of which was a computer. He was a man. Computer hit me like a flash bank in this entire story. To be as like 1800. That's what I thought too. I guess this could be it any time, you're right. He welcomed me into the lighthouse's warming light and on quiet afternoons, invited me to a studio deep in the basement, where canvass and paint replace charts in science. His enthusiasm for art and color restored, something bright inside me, if only for a while, with time. I found solace, and maybe joy, and the strokes of pencil and brush, turning my restless nights and haunted dreams into drawings and stories. At first, I sketch quietly. I afraid someone might glimpse the strange visions that split from my sleep, haunting monsters and scaly women with bright eyes, ships collapsing beneath the storms, villages swarmed with brine. My books grew thick, and soon the keeper discovered my hobby. He encouraged me, offering up empty walls and blank canvases for my work as the whole town took notice of the sometimes story tellers, sometimes artists occasionally mad, young women among them. Recognition brought a thrill. A sort of pride in the way men would leave me flowers or how shopkeepers begged for a tale, a closing hour, that pride quickly soured into a yearning I could not deny. My home was growing stale. Every face became too familiar. Every grave and grace was counted. My work ate for wider eyes, for a world beyond fog and water. So at the words of traveling merchants and my peers, I packed with little I owned and set out for the mainland. London, what a change it was, frantic energy, the clang of its streets, the endless faces and lights that chased memories away. I struggled, hawking my art to anyone who would look. Tilt galleries and magazines paid attention to the strange, quiet artists from afar, lonely shore. A silent girl from a wailing sea, painting monsters and painting fables. People found me fascinating. I tasted enough success to lay a banquet. I work on gun bookstores. My name was whispered at readings and gallows. Strangers sought my signature. And yet, even amid the noise and adolation, I found an old, ancient longing and tug at me every time my eyes fell upon one of my paintings. It's hunger lived on in my colors. Saddened when each story ended, despite all I had gained. I never felt whole. There was always some haunting emptiness waiting beyond the edge of my canvas. The vivid dreams that once kindled my creativity soon began to fade and vanish altogether. As if my body had forgotten how. Soon, I could not even sleep. My nights became dry, endless vigils. Drowned me into the edges of madness. My memoirs and logs grew scattered. Fragmented documents were written in nighttime scrolls that made no sense come morning. Time lost all substances. One day, blood into the next, wakeful and restless. My eyes burned. My hands cramped with the effort of writing, but it cannot stave off the delirium nor the wretched throbbing in my head. So, at the edge of the world, I paced an old pier, far from the city's clamor. The night sky was washed with stars. Each one clinging to top the dark belly of the sea. Now to those velvet waves rose a song I knew, an old, achingly beautiful melody that threaded through my mind. As if calling me home, an overdue dream. I've promised not forgotten. The head of red hair plopped up to find me, shining in the moonlight. Pink eyes bright with hope and glee. She outstretched a hand. She had done years before. And this time, I did not hesitate as I threw myself into the sea. How wonderful was the end? Wow, just beautiful. That was a beautiful story. I really enjoyed that, yeah. Yeah, the, you know, it's funny this. Well, I just want to say, that was a great story. I think that it tackles the kind of like a sailor. I don't, you know, love crafty and definitely vibe. I think in a way that a lot of our viewers, that the criticism I've seen in the past of leaving things ambiguous or you know, it's just, it's almost uses a crutch. But I feel like this takes the setting of the sailor and these like coastal town vibes. And it really just has a lot of fun with it. I mean, just it starts off, it's such a roller coaster. You know what I mean? Like a girl's sister dies. The town up and arms goes to the light keeper that know they know that he's responsible for it. They break in. She like basically gets thrown up in her mouth. She's able to like basically live the life of this siren or mermaid saves her life. Then basically rejects this, this calling of like come with me. And then she basically lives her own life. And then is completely that I would say completely disappointed. But it's just the the longing that she feels can never be replaced until she like later in life accepts this like new call. It's just I don't know. It's weird. You get so much, but it's so punchy still. Like that wasn't a super drawn out thing yet. It weaves itself very beautifully together with a lot of just amazing poetic kind of language that I think is, I don't know. I found it to be very, very I thought it was beautiful. I thought this is a beautiful story. I think that the perspective shift to the siren was very cool. I like seeing her entire life in the tragedy that led her to joining sirens at sea. And then that thing the siren says where it's like under stars when you last sleep and it's like, I'll be there for you in the end. And then the promise was kept and she comes back to the siren. But ultimately, you know, what the siren does is it kills people on behalf of an old God. So it's not a good thing. But for someone who had known so much tragedy and so much was taken, then perhaps it would be better to be a part of such evil because then you have a home. You have a sister again. You have you have a purpose. So it's like a temptation to give into what's easier because if it's something that's better, like it's a deep evil and it killed the people of the town. And the original light keeper wasn't evil, but he was a part of this occult practice. There was really something that went bump in the night. He was just kind of studying it. But the people that went missing was technically his fault because it was trying to get the siren back. It was trying to retrieve the mermaid. So by him having to have locked up, that's why people were dying. So I don't know. So this is a, this was a fascinating story. I like the shift. I don't know if you have to have all this stuff about her becoming like a famous writer and stuff. It would, I kind of wanted it to end where she just stays in the town and she's like the old crone who tells stories of mermaids that everyone kind of laughs off. And then when she's like elderly, that's when she comes back to the sea, like before her death, right? I feel like that's a bit more effective than traveling and writing and stuff. But I mean, I'm nitpicking here. It's a very beautiful story. I think that I read it more is like you grow like she rejects it the first time because one, it's this foreign thing and I think that it's also a, I don't know, like her leaving experiencing life on the island and experiencing something new. She finds something else, something else out about herself, which is like I love to like create and write and stuff, not in like a way where it feels like she's discovering herself without her sister. She's finding out more about herself that's like beyond this tragedy. But even beyond the tragedy, I think there's like a yearning that like that life itself can't overcome this like deep entrenched feeling of loss or like maybe like regret for not taking your hand the first time. I don't know. I, it was, I liked the idea. I know what you're saying that it's like she lives her whole life and then from outstretched she can do that. But I also like the idea that she at least experiences and grows and learns a bit before come like because before a lot enough. Yeah. Before coming to the realization that she's just like this is the thing that I'm like after is this fantastical. I've always thought of it. Yeah. I can never, I've seen this world impossible. I've seen the piece. The mermaid had stuff. I want that. I want to be a part of that. Yeah. Yeah. Definitely. I, I like it a lot. And a lot of the writing was very beautiful. I like that. It also parallels the, the exploration that we have with the, like with the siren like almost like the aftermath of this is like us also experiencing what her life ends up happening before she inevitably goes into the ocean again. I mean, the same way that our main character gets to experience the, that's a good point. We see they, that's a good connection. We see the siren's whole story before she became like a siren. And now that's what basically happened with our protagonist. It was her whole story that led up to her eventual becoming of a siren. Yeah. I think even her just being trapped, her being like hunted trapped by this person. It felt like it was the same thing of like being trapped by the mediocrity of like, I guess, just human life, the repetitive nature of human life and being trapped in this way that I think that she was probably just trying to escape different ways where she escaped through leaving her town, being able to experience things in her own yet. It's still just, you know, felt like this mundane, I guess exploration. So whenever she comes back, it's just feels like a sense of belonging now of like seeing this person go, but the, the, the, like the, not necessarily the downplay, but like, that'd be fucking horrifying. Also, swing around. Cthulhu a day. Fuck that. Well, they got it. Yeah, good. I mean, but they, but it almost implies that it's like a fatherly relationship. No, it is. Yeah. Yeah, it is. And I think that it's almost like this immortal kind of coil of like living beneath the surface and being able to like, I don't know, yeah, experience that like it's just completely different world. It's, it's, it's a very interesting It's a very interesting ending because it also in a way that you're given so much information so quickly that it also melds together and it kind of, I don't know, it really does just like fucking explode your head a bit. One of it's like, you find out that was like the Mermaid's backstory, so I don't know, it's just a lot. It's a lot to think about. I'm like trying to wrap my head around it, but very beautifully done. And also too awesome that it was on Tales from the Creeps and stuff and this has like a last thought that I have for today is the, the evolution of even just like storytellers online, you know, of like how people looked at uploading horror stories from like our slash no sleep at the very beginning to where we are. It was a pretty big spread, right? We read the one from 11 years ago and then the one from a few months ago. Yeah. And obviously, you know, different writers, different skills, but it's a writer, different times. So it was like one of the best and this one is so good, like the language is so different in the tone and all that. Yeah. Which you know, I'm not to say that writers back then weren't good or anything, but just the evolution of people are like, this is like a small format, you know, like the way that we're approaching the story writing or storytelling versus like the story we read today or both of them today, there's just vastly different and it's just kind of cool to see, you know, and it does make me think like 10 years from now are people going to read this and be like, Oh, that's an interesting way that they wrote about X, Y, or Z, like how does it evolve again? You know, how like what way does this storytelling, uh, reface and repurpose, um, online? Because I just, you know, I just feel like there's just always this constant. I don't know where the internet's going to be at like 10 years or whatever, but I do think that like if there's a way for people to, I guess like express themselves in forums or, uh, websites or however, I do think there's a way and I think that each generation is going to find its way to do that too. So it's got, needless to say, really both, I like both of them, but I do think like the one from R slash, or tails from the creep, whatever, I do think like that one was a home run, really, really enjoyed it. I agree. Yeah. That one banged. So that author again, his name is user sufficient leaves one, four, four, uh, we'll have them linked in the description. They have a ton of stories that they've posted to the creep cast back when we were posted on creep cast. Antels from the creep cast. They have a story called motor, uh, motor, I believe, uh, they have one that looks like it's already been picked up by some narration, YouTubers called lavender on the snow, uh, and then they have some other four inches of mercy, um, they have one called yellow kings, which has been read online and also has a not say for work warning. I know you freaks or into that kind of thing. Um, so I mean, it looks like I'm going to read more of their stuff because that was fantastic and I want to see, uh, I want to see how many home runs they have in them, uh, yeah, check out sufficient leave one, four, four, they're still writing right now, uh, they're posting like a few days ago in the creep cast subreddit. So be sure to show them some love. Let you let them know that, uh, you enjoy their story and we want to see more because I certainly do. So say it for me. I mean, this just, just goes to show to man that so many people, you know, I mean, just to like, gosh, about our community, you have so many fucking talented people in this community and I think that like a lot of people that do want to just read that don't, they don't want to just hear us. That's a big thing. If you're getting ready into writing, don't just do it because you want to be on the show. Do it because there's a community of people right now that are only watching this show just because they love the community of writers and they just want to like experience that shit. So just know that, you know, if I can throw your stuff up on there, let people write, like read your stuff because there's a whole army of people that do, you know, so I even saw like, like, um, leave was talking about. And they're a description for other stuff, which not saying this to, you know, crap where I eat, but they were talking about how now you go to no sleep and, you know, it's so saturated. They're so strict with rules and stuff. But you come to our slash creep cast, look at that. Everyone's friendly. Everyone likes your story, not strictly for the rules, not to downplay no sleep because, you know, we've made a lot of money off no sleep and this podcast success. I'm just saying, if you want, if you want, he's pretty cool over here, you know, I think it's cool. I think it's cool. I think it's just a smaller community as well right now that I think it's just, it's just cool seeing people that are making it for the, for this community, you know, and I think it starts in a like minded community for people to be down with some of the stuff that you're throwing out there versus it being such a huge divided pie of a community where it's like, well, some people like this, but some people like that. So it's cool. Yeah. I think that you know what? If you're trying to write anything, this is a great place to start and please submit it because we also want to read it as well. But until next time guys, thank you so much to our audio listeners who were listening on Spotify. I have a podcast and gave us a beautiful rating there. We appreciate you. And of course, thank you to the patrons who help us keep this thing going and also get some extra stuff on the side. We appreciate that as well. If you're interested, links will be below. Until next time, guys, we will see you then by by stay creeped. We'll see you in the next one. And I think the moral of today's story is if you're thinking about getting in the water, just kill yourself. It's easier, save everyone time. It's not worth it, no matter what's in there. Your wife's drowning, lost all your money. Too bad. It's the seas now belongs to Cthulhu and also Hunter did not say up at that left story was very lovecraftian, you're welcome, bye. [Music]