Story Number 1
The Diver
by
lady-warrior
They say she only comes out at night to attack. If that were true my story would have no leg to stand on, as it happened in the middle of the day. But I know what I witnessed and I know it was her. She comes out not just at night but any time. Male, only male, children are left unattended. She's in the water, just waiting for a chance to drag her next victim down to a watery grave.
But, unlike folklore stories, she is no mermaid. She pretends to be a drowning victim, body limp and pale, floating face down in the water.
You probably are wondering what I am talking about so, I will start from the beginning.
I was ten at the time and my family owned a cliff side house by the ocean. This was our summer home and it was a great place to play, there was even a path leading down to a small beach hidden from view between two rocky cliff walls, climbing out of the water.
One day during our visit my best friend, Nate's, family came over for a visit. I was excited, and wanted to show him around.
Taking his arm I led him outside and down the path to the small beach. We played on the sand, making castles and creating moats for them and then pretending the castle's inhabitants were at war. Nate eventually grew bored though and wanted to swim. I told him to go ahead but I wouldn't join in, reminding him that I couldn't swim, and even if I could, I was afraid to get into the water. He smiled and teased me about it, saying I was a chicken, but I wouldn't budge. Eventually he convinced me to simply stand at the edge of the water and we could splash each other from there. We had fun with that for awhile and then Nate decided he wanted to go back up to the house.
By then the sun had gone behind a mass of clouds and a cool breeze was blowing up. I didn't want to be by myself down on the beach and followed after him. Maybe you might think of me as a coward but I always got nervous being by myself on that beach. At the time I didn't know why but I eventually found out.
We headed up the path but Nate suddenly paused, looking down over the water.
"What's that?" he asked before I could ask him what was the matter.
"What's what?" I asked him, figuring he saw a whale or something.
My friend pointed out toward the water. I looked where he was pointing and spotted something bobbing in the water near the rocks below. It was black and for a moment I thought it might be a seal. Seals commonly swam by the rocks in the summer, barking to one another as they played amidst the waves. We hardly ever had shark sightings around here so the seals were relatively safe.
"Is that a person?" Nate asked suddenly.
"A person?" I frowned, squinting. Now I could make out more of the figure in the water. It seemed to be a person, a woman, in a wet suit. I didn't see an oxygen tank though, but I did make out a face mask on her head, pushed up from her face. I frowned to myself. Why would anyone be swimming near those rocks? They were sharp and slippery. I knew this because my younger brother had died slipping on those rocks two years ago. He'd fallen and landed on the rocks near the water, impaled on them.
My friend was now heading back down the path. "I think they're in trouble!" Before I could say a word he rushed down the path, across the beach, and dove into the water. I called after him and ran toward the beach, watching him swim toward the person in the water.
I watched him reach the swimmer from where I stood on the shore... and that's when things went from normal to horrifying.
The body moved and, as I watched, it grabbed onto Nate when he drew close. He let out a cry of surprise and tried to swim away, as if he suddenly decided rescuing her was a bad idea.
It held onto him though, and suddenly three extra pairs of arms, no tentacles, grew out of its back and they wrapped around Nate like the tendrils of a vine. Nate's screams grew more frantic as he was pulled toward the swimmer. Water splashed and I saw my friend fighting for his life. I could see the thing's face now, blank except for a row of jagged sharklike teeth.
Then...
They were gone.
I stood there for a moment, staring in disbelief at the now calm waters, seeing only bubbles in the water where the pair had been only seconds ago, then I rushed back up the path and ran into the house. I hysterically told the adults in the living room what happened and Nate's dad along with my own ran out of the house and to the beach. They took off into the water and dove under, looking for him but returned moments later without Nate.
My mother called the police and they came soon afterward. Divers combed the bottom for his body for days afterward but nothing, no corpse and no clues. The police questioned me about what happened and I told them what we'd seen, the woman in the water and the transformation from a human to a tentacled monster with those demonic teeth.
Nobody believed me but I didn't expect them to. They all thought I was letting my imagination get the better of me.
After a month the search was called off. The conclusion was Nate had been attacked by a shark and that was why there was no body, but I knew better. Sharks always left something behind.
My family sold the summer home and I have never returned. I can no longer go to the beach or even take a bath. The sight of it brings back images of Nate's drowning and that pale, white face...
Story Number 2
Before It Rains
by Chambergambit
Thunder rolls over a small desert town in southern California. In the Dougal house, glass trinkets on the shelves shudder, threatening to fall. Sean, an eighteen year old boy with dark hair and glasses, clamps his hand over a ceramic mermaid to hold it in place. Behind him, his grandfather wakes from his nap on the recliner and jerks his head back to stare at the ceiling.
“Rain,” says his grandfather, his voice low and hoarse.
Sean lets go of the mermaid and cleans off his glasses with the sleeve of his hoodie as he turns around. “Yep. We need it, too.”
“It rained half the year in Cork,” his grandfather says.
“Mom will probably get back before it starts, though.” Sean says, ignoring him. He didn’t care to hear another speech about how great and/or horrible things were back in Ireland.
Sitting down on the faded orange sofa next to him, Sean returns to organizing his college registration papers on the coffee table. Does he want a single dorm, or a roommate? After years of being an only child, maybe he isn't equipped to handle sharing a room. Then again, he could benefit from the change. The recliner to his left squeaks, and Sean looks up to see his grandfather padding over to the window.
The pitter-patter sound of raindrops fills the living room as the storm begins. Sean frowns, keeping an eye on his grandfather’s balance.
“Do you want your cane?” he asks.
His grandfather shakes his head and lifts up a trembling hand to peek through the blinds. He sighs.
“It’s been too long,” says the old man. “It’s time.”
Sean picks up a pencil and starts to fill out a form. “Time for what?”
“Time to go out.” His grandfather steps away from the window and heads for the front door. He stops to slip is shoes on, leaning against the wall for support.
“Grandpa, you can’t go out.” Sean says, dropping his pencil and standing up. “It’s raining.” He goes over to his grandpa and takes his arm to steer him away from the door. His grandfather just shakes his head and tries to shrug him off. “Mom’s coming home and then she’ll make dinner. It’s gonna be mashed potatoes, remember? They’re your fa--”
“I don’t give a damn about the bleedin’ potatoes, boy!” he snapped.
Sean drops his arm and takes a step back, holding his hands up in surrender. “Whoa, sorry.”
His grandfather peers at him through his milky eyes, his frown deepening the wrinkles on his face. “I can’t be runnin’ and hidin’ at every April shower, can I?”
“For one, it’s May, and two--” Sean stops and grumbles when his grandfather turns away and opens the front door. “Grandpa, we can go for a walk when it stops, I promise.”
“No!” His grandfather halted in the doorway and twisted back, pointing a skeletal finger to Sean’s face. “You stay here and you wait for your mother. I mean it, Sean. I don’t need you cryin’ after me like a baby.”
“No one said I was crying, old man.” Sean huffs, folding his arms across his chest.
His grandfather’s face softens, and he smiles. “This old man just has somethin’ he’s needin’ to do.”
“Fine,” says Sean. “but when you get a cold and die, I’m telling mom it was your fault.”
His grandfather laughs. “You’re right about that, m'boy. It was my fault.”
With that, he closes the door behind him. Sean rocks back on his heels, torn between worry over his grandfather’s health and his need to respect his wishes. He shakes his head to clear his thoughts and walks over to the window, pulling the blinds up to see outside. A few yards into the street, his grandfather makes small, unsteady steps. Sean adjusts his glasses, contemplating getting his cane. However, the old man had been so adamant about not being followed, that Sean figures he can deal with a fall on his own.
Time inches by as he slowly makes his way further and further down the street. A dull roar replaces the pitter-patter. The heavy downpour makes it difficult for Sean to see. His grandfather can’t be that far away, but the blurry figure seems smaller than it should be. Sean takes off his glasses to once again wipe them clean with his sleeve, putting them back on only when he’s sure every smudge is gone. He looks back out the window, squints his eyes, and frowns.
As he continues to walk, his grandfather’s steps become sluggish. His arms dangle at his sides as if held down by some enormous weight.
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The original Spooky Boo's Scary Story Time telling spooky, scary stories since 2016. Here you'll find true scary stories, fiction stories, urban legends, creepypasta, and other tall tales from the darkest corners of the internet.
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