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Thalassophobia – Creepypasta

15 Jul Thalassophobia

I hate the water. All the time have, all the time will. Oh, positive, I’ve swum in swimming pools and jumped off diving boards like some other individual, but I have by no means as soon as allowed my ft to go away the bottom at a seashore or lake. One thing about not having strong ground to stand on freaks me out, and the inky blackness surrounding you may be hiding anything. The silt, swirling, shrouding this overseas setting in a sickly green-gray cloak. You’re left defenseless, weak, out of your league, whereas every part in there with you has advanced to thrive. That tug you are feeling on your ankle might simply be the greedy tendrils of seaweed. But you panic at the considered it being something extra… malicious. Your battle or flight response kicks in. Flight is your only choice at this point. You’re outmatched. It has you and your only hope is to make a break for the surface. Desperately, you kick and claw on the water, hoping towards hope that whatever is down there can’t catch up. Slowly, you paddle as much as the floor, nevertheless it’s not sufficient. Humans have been by no means meant to swim shortly. You are feeling these ghastly inexperienced ropes tying you down like anchors, tightening, wrenching down in your heel. You look down in a vain try and free your self, solely to find that it had all been in your head. That seaweed monster you envisioned was really just a few aquatic weeds that had turn into tangled round you as you swam.

I can’t correctly clarify thalassophobia better than that. It’s a primal, visceral worry, and for good purpose. Our ancestors knew that in the water, they couldn’t struggle back towards an attacker, or even run away. And thus, they grew to worry that which they did not perceive. Although, as know-how advanced, we enabled ourselves to indulge our curiosity and discover this forbidden land.

Nevertheless, many people still retain that terror which our ancestors felt, and that is what led me in a course I might finally remorse following.

“My name is Dr. Francis Thurston. It is currently… mmmm… 12:05 pm, on this 12th of April, 1923. I am with patient 233-012, and this will be session number 3.” The typewriter stamped each letter in harsh black ink with a sickening “clack.” Ever since opening this accursed mental health facility, I’ve had to play the sonographer in each single session I’ve carried out, and the incessant mechanical clicks of this damned machine are driving me mad.

I had opened this facility, within the hopes of shedding new mild on mental sickness. My colleagues consider these individuals are unfit to be treated as humans, seeing them as “defective”. What load of claptrap These are human beings with thoughts and emotions, not some product of mishap on an meeting line.

“Alright… so, ma’am, can you tell me about these dreams you’ve been having as of late?”

Her long black hair crinkled and parted as she lifted her head to talk.

“I see… visions… Mr. Thurston. A city, just like out your window… but… in the wrong spot.” She gestured behind me at glass pane that was the room’s only supply of pure mild.

“Alright, Sara. That’s interesting. Can you tell me why it’s in the wrong spot?”

“No, I can’t sir. All I know is that it was… underwater. There was green light everywhere, and black things swimming down below me. It all looked so real… like I was looking at pictures.”

“Odd,” I assumed. “Some other patients told me similar things in their sessions as well.”

“Sara, could you tell me if you remember hearing anything?”. She seemed around the room as she thought.

“No, sir. No voices at least. I did hear this loud rumbling noise, like the sound when a boulder falls down a slope, but that’s all.”

“Okay, good.” The typewriter had begun to get on my nerves as soon as extra. “And what about when you’re awake? Do you see anything then?”

“Oh, lord no sir. Nothing like that. The most I’ll hear or see is the people on the sidewalk, strolling by my window.”

I dismiss her and have a nurse escort her back to her room. Going over the notes on all of my sufferers that had reported comparable goals, all of them seemed utterly unrelated. Sara Stevens, a 31 yr previous married mom of 1, Jack Walters, a 37 yr previous detective from throughout city with no dwelling kin to talk of, and Tom Suttin, a deranged man of 34 who, despite my reservations, my employees needed to put in a straight jacket as a result of he would fly into wild matches, yelling and screaming about “eyes watching him” and that “he will awaken”.

The question of “what linked my patients” would haunt me for over a month, until the state would hand over a guilty defendant, whose lawyer had tried for the insanity plea.

The decision got here at half previous eight. Storm clouds had blown in from the coast, and the chief of police needed to get the defendant assessed as shortly as attainable. As the celebs have been slowly blotted out of existence, the transport car backed up and two armed guards stepped out from either aspect. Doors flung open as the person was wheeled in, leather-based belts adorned each limb, and a muzzle was strapped to the decrease half of his face. Most putting have been his eyes. As I held the door open for the guards, he turned to look as he passed. His pupils have been shrunk… or perhaps his eyes have been open as vast as potential. But in them I noticed a glance of hollow worry, as if the being in front of me was simply a husk, scared for every waking second of his life.

“I’m so sorry Francis. The judge ordered an immediate examination of his mental state and you were the only psychiatrist I knew who wouldn’t have shot me dead as soon as I called.”

“No, no, it’s fine, Frank. I just wish you had given me more warning about it. So what’s all this about anyhow?”

“Well, um…” he paused to take away his cap as he appeared down on the flooring. Even after turning into chief of police, Frank was nonetheless a bit squeamish when it got here time to disclose the more bloody particulars of his instances. “His name is Harrison Brown. He’s 32 years old, has… erm… had three children and a wife. According to his neighbors, he went on a trip to some town they had never heard of. They said he was different once he returned. Listless, almost as if he had forgotten his personality back at that town. A few weeks later, those same neighbors complained about a smell coming from the house. When my officers got there, they found the bodies of his children and wife strewn around his living room. And upstairs… ” He paused to take a deep breath.

“Upstairs, my officers found him in what used to be the room of his youngest daughter. Symbols had been written on every exposed surface in what we think was his families blood mixed with his own. He was curled up in a ball, staring at the corner of the room, muttering to himself. One of my men got close enough to hear what he was saying”.

“And?”

“Well… he ended up shooting himself a few days later. We never got to find out what he heard. As for the other officer, he’s shell shocked and has been throwing up at the sight of blood. We had to let him go, for obvious reasons”

“Alright… erm… well, I suppose I should get to work, if you’d be so kind?”

“Oh, yes, absolutely. I’ll send you a bottle of bourbon when this is over. Just make sure not to let the state hear about it”

I smiled as I showed him out. Frank had been a really close pal ever since high school, and when prohibition turned regulation, we developed the habit of “misplacing” evidence every now and then after an enormous case or typically simply because we felt prefer it.

Returning to the room the place I was storing Mr. Brown, I heard him shrieking. Most of it was garbled, but I might make out the phrases “water,” “him,” “scared,” and “sea.” As I wheeled him to my office, I observed that he would go silent each time lightning flashed, as if in anticipation.

“It is 8:27 p.m. on… ” My thoughts have been elsewhere as I typed. For as soon as, I failed to note the sound of the typewriter.

“Hey, doc. Whatchya doin’?” His voice was hoarse as he croaked out each word.

“Recording the time, date, and your name for the records. Now, can you tell me why you murdered your wife, Mr. Brown?”

“I did them a kindness doc. He saw me. He saw them. I shot them each in the head. Over in an instant. It was merciful compared to what his followers would have done.”

“Mhmm… and who is this… ‘he?’ And who are his followers?”

His eyes squinted as the muscle tissues in his cheeks tightened to type a grin. His pupils dilated, and for the first time, I saw simply how lifeless behind the eyes he actually was.

“He, The Great Dreamer, He, who tends to the Great Old Ones, He who would bring about the end of man. His followers be everywhere. They see all. They hear all. Nowhere is safe from them. Not even the seas”.

The point out of seas caught my attention. I needed to ask. I felt an all-consuming curiosity to know, as if I was being pointed to it by an invisible stranger.

“Mr. Brown, you don’t happen to have dreams of a “sunken city” underwater, do you? Black figures shifting under as inexperienced lights shine?”

The grin he as soon as held had widened. In all this time, he hadn’t blinked even as soon as, and his eyes had grown bloodshot.

“I’ll cutchya a deal, doc. You let me out of this jacket fer a few hours, and I’ll tell ye’ all.”

Towards my higher judgment, I unbuckled the restraints on his jacket. Before he was free, I locked the door and confirmed him the pistol I hold in my desk as a warning towards attacking me. As I loosened the last strap, I felt his arms loosen up. He took an extended, deep breath, savoring his newfound freedom. Rotating his arms, jogging in place, he seemed like a wonderfully normal man apart from his eyes.

“So… what else do you know, Mr. Brown?”

Mr. Brown would go on to elucidate a few town off the east coast that he visited, all the best way up to when he arrived on my doorstep in most safety restraints. He appeared completely sane apart from the speak of some god and his cult. I allowed him to stay without his restraints for the rest of his keep.

I locked his room for the night time and went to bed with little success. Regardless of the validity of his claims, Mr. Brown had nonetheless managed to get to me. That night time, as soon as I had managed to float off, I experienced a very comparable dream to what my patients had skilled. Perhaps I was simply letting every little thing get beneath my pores and skin. That bottle of bourbon can be extra welcome than I might’ve imagined.

I awoke to the wail of a nurse. Bolting up, I might hear her operating down the halls in a panic. Tossing on something simply so I used to be dressed, I ran to her. She had fallen towards a wall and was wide-eyed and shivering. I asked what happened and all she did was point a quivering finger to Mr. Brown’s room. The door was cracked open, however there wasn’t enough mild from the window in his room to illuminate something from the place the nurse and I have been. I stood up, turned in the direction of the door, and took a step forward. The door deal with was chilly, the results of air con chilling the metallic with out anything close by to warm it. As the door opened, I might make out the bed that came in every room. The sheets have been gone.

More mild was allowed in because the doorway opened, and I might see the again of a chair, mendacity on the ground. More mild rushed in and shone on the remainder of the room. The sickening sound of fibers rubbing towards one another while beneath rigidity. The groaning of the water pipes sounded overhead, clear as day. I had seen enough. I turned to close the door as something stopped me lifeless. Scrawled on the door, in his personal blood, Mr. Brown had written: “She will lead the way.” And under that was written what appeared to be a jumble of phrases. “Cthulhu.”

As soon as the physique had been taken down, Frank confirmed up with the bottle he promised.

“Damn, Francis… what the hell happened?”

“God only knows.” I took an extended swig in a useless try and overlook what I had seen. “She will lead the way.” What in God’s identify did that mean?

It was solely until I started to look into the pasts of some of my sufferers that I received my answer. All who had reported those same goals had also at one point or another spent a big amount of time within the town that Mr. Brown had visited. Sara had been there most lately.

Questioning her revealed the important thing to these unusual “mass dreams,” as I used to be given directions to the unnamed city. A bus route ran there, in addition to a number of previous railroads. A number of spare clothes along with some cash, and I used to be off. The station where the bus ran to and from was just outdoors the town’s outer limits. Fuel lamps lit the street as moths fluttered about. The man on the ticket counter appeared good, if a bit odd once I talked about my vacation spot while ordering. The bus came, and I boarded. There was nothing exceptional about the whole journey, the bus driver was a portly man who wore a cap and previous tattered clothes, however was in any other case pretty commonplace and regular.

As we arrived on the town, it appeared as though it had been remoted from the remainder of the world. Buildings resembling those from America’s colonial days stood, though the paint and wood clearly weren’t unique to the structure as they hadn’t warped or pale. The roads have been nonetheless cobblestone. Nevertheless, that they had fuel lamps which signifies that this town had contact with the surface world, although not for a while. Individuals wandered concerning the streets, seemingly normal. There was nothing aside from the shortage of know-how to recommend this city was anything but common.

As I exited the bus, I was hit by just how salty and thick the air was. It was like making an attempt to breathe in molasses with all the humidity. I would wish a place to remain, so I wandered the town, wanting at the many homes that have been, in actuality, very pleasant to look upon. Ultimately, I used to be approached by one of the townsfolk, somewhat woman in a vibrant yellow gown. She pointed me in the direction of an inn with earnest zeal and skipped off.

“What is this town hiding that would drive people mad?” was all I might assume because the solar slowly set by way of the window in my small lodge room. The innkeeper was very pleasant, identical to that woman. And so the story continued on and on for 2 more days as individuals gave me confused seems to be once I poked and prodded about my sufferers or the goals or “The Cult of Him” as I had begun to think about it as. Perhaps this was just a huge coincidence?

Disheartened, I returned to my room for what can be the final night time of my keep. Climbing into mattress proved troublesome, as did falling asleep. Nevertheless, sleep did ultimately come for me.

A couple of hours later, I couldn’t tell how many, I managed to drive myself awake. A nightmare had taken me, and I woke to the feeling of clammy palms and soaked clothes. Before I had time to correctly comprehend what was happening, I heard a noise of what appeared to be an animal outdoors. I was on the second flooring, so it was in all probability protected to look out my window. On the road under, I noticed nothing out of the peculiar. A road lamp, moths, and a cat. The alleyway across the road was pitch black, as the cat began to stroll by way of it. It stopped all of the sudden, back arched because it hissed, poised to assault one thing hiding in the shadows. Without warning, a hand reached out at the cat, grabbing it before it had the prospect to run. The hand appeared webbed, with sickly green and blue scales. And… fins. That’s the perfect I can clarify it.

Immediately, I rushed out of that lodge, abandoning all my belongings. It was dark, but by the time I made it to that alley, whatever was hiding had gone. My greatest guess is that if what I saw was true, then whatever it was in all probability wanted water to outlive.

With no time to waste, I ran till my lungs burned, all the best way to the docks. Stealing a ship that was left tied to a publish, I rowed out, not figuring out which course to go and even how far. Ultimately, when the power in my arms had failed, I used to be left alone at the hours of darkness, the town far behind me, solely seen by the dim lamps that lined the streets.

Out of the blue, I heard the delicate sound of one thing smooth brushing along the underside of the boat. “Some fish are probably curious,” I assumed, as I lay again to relaxation. Then, as instantly as it had started, it stopped, and I was left in an oppressive, all-encompassing silence.

Soon it turned apparent, nevertheless, that my mysterious customer hadn’t left quite but. Splashing to my left… or perhaps it was to my proper? One thing could possibly be heard, and it was getting closer. Because it approached my aspect, I turned noticeably more anxious. “What was coming for me? What was its intention?”. My mind was racing as the splashing disappeared, seeming to go underneath my boat. Again, I was gripped by silence.

With a heavy thud, one thing hit the aspect of my boat, onerous enough to capsize it. I used to be thrown into the sea immediately. Coughing, I came up for air. I hadn’t had the time to take a large enough breath, but as I finally received a hold of my surroundings, I felt fingers clasp my ankle as I used to be pulled underneath the surface and not using a second to react. Down, down, down I was dragged till I was launched, the being brushing past my arm. I might feel its harsh scales scrape throughout my skin, and as I seemed to my would-be attacker, all I saw was the inky black abyss that surrounded me.

Water really is terrifying. Your actions are slowed, you possibly can’t breathe, you’ll be able to’t odor, you’ll be able to’t hear. Your whole senses are dulled or taken away whenever you’re submerged. However clear as day, in that ocean, I heard the sounds of stone grating towards stone, as if a boulder was rolling down a slope. I can’t put phrases to it, but at that second, I might really feel one thing shifting beneath me, deeper beneath the sea. A voice, in contrast to any dwelling beings, echoed in my head. “Francis Thurston, for years you have shown sympathy to those whose minds would be taken by me. Sara has led you here, and now you shall be my prophet”. Panic enveloped me as my limbs flailed, trying to ferry me to the surface. Increasingly more water might be felt being displaced and moved beneath me as I swam more durable than I ever had. Moonlight streamed down, scattered by the water, as I felt this massive entity gaining on me.

Breaching the surface, I swam as fast as I might to the nearest land mass. Evidently, a storm had gathered in my time underwater and had begun pouring. Sheets of rain slapped the water’s floor as a rocky cliff got here into view. Heaving my exhausted physique up onto the rock pile, I turned to where I used to be, just moments in the past. One thing monumental was rising up out of the ocean, shrouded by the clouds. Its outline was seen by means of flashes of lightning. Great wings rose, outstretched from its back. Its arms have been gigantic, and the outline of tentacles might be seen around its mouth. Its hand rose out of the water and horrible claws might be seen on every finger. This was the “He” that Brown referred to.

In my adrenaline-fueled escape, I hadn’t observed that where the thing had grabbed my ankle, there was a deep gash that was leaking crimson blood. Again, I appeared as much as see this being, turning slowly in the direction of me. Each footstep, an earthquake. Every breath, a hurricane. This being was on a scale wholly unique to itself. I used to be however an ant in this God’s path, and it paid no attention to me. No, this thing has risen above God. This factor was a drive of nature. This is the Nice Dreamer. This is Cthulhu. Soon, my blood loss had turn out to be too nice and after a few minutes, I succumbed and handed out.

I awoke, the solar shining on my face, back in my lodge room. The window was closed, my garments have been dry, it was like nothing happened. I received up and walked around, asking if there had been a storm the previous night time, however no one remembers even seeing a lot as a cloud. Was it all only a dream? Was I dropping my mind because of my career? Did Mr. Brown’s suicide disturb me that deeply?

I returned residence that night time to Frank, waiting at my facility with another bottle of bourbon.

“So what did you do with Brown’s body?”

“What? How do you know about that, Francis?”

“What do you mean? You’re the one who had me examine him.”

“No, he committed suicide after he killed his family. Francis, you can’t examine a dead man. You know that, right?”

I sat there in surprised silence. I really was dropping my mind. I had made it all up. Was Sara actual? Was I even a psychiatrist?

“Hey, Francis, what’s that scar? That one there, on your ankle. Looks pretty bad. Did one of your patients give that to you?”


Credit: Anonymous

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