22 Dec The Incident of Sommercroft Island – Creepypasta
The following is a transcription from an interview with a man named “William Burgess”. I am not able to release more information on this man or the following events at this time, as my employers are unaware that I’m bringing these activities to the public.
Please understand that I am putting myself in danger by doing this, but I can’t live with myself and the events that have come to light again and again in my time here. I will remain in touch and have more information to share later, but for the time being, take this knowledge to heart and please.
Stay away from Sommercroft.
I never would have believed such a thing could have possibly existed if I hadn’t seen it for myself. It was the one thing to come of that entire trip that I didn’t regret. Seeing it.
Was it worth the cost of everything that came after?
I really can’t tell you.
I’m not the type of person who can give you those sorts of answers. Go talk to a priest. Or an economist. One’ll tell you about the value of your soul, the other your life.
Weird how there’s a difference between the two.
I’m sorry, my thoughts have a tendency to wander. You don’t go through something like I did without some sort of lifelong cognitive dysfunction.
Could I have a glass of water?
Alright…in a bit then.
You see, I was on vacation. A cheap one, it was some tiny island that barely had more than a whisper of a village on it. Sommercroft. The name of the island was the name of the town, that’s how small it was.
I think it had been named with the intention of being some sort of paradise vacation spot. There was even a resort there. Technically it still is, I guess. Whatever sun bleached bones remain of the place, anyway.
Year after year of bad luck after the resort was built destroyed any possibility of recouping the loss of having built it. The thing that had been designed to bring wealth and happiness to Sommercroft was really the thing that killed it.
My point is, going to that island is dirt cheap, and I don’t exactly make a king’s ransom. I’m sure you didn’t sit in your playpen as a tot and think, “Oh boy, I want to grow up to be a custodian for a multinational chemical company that treats the environment like a toilet and its employees like the turds floating in it! That’d be swell!”
So yeah. Cheap was a priority.
The trickiest part was getting the plane fare, but people will do nearly anything if you have something they want. You’d be surprised how many people really really want chemicals. The dangerous kind. The get-taken-by-the-FBI-if-I-tell-you-about-them kind.
Believe me, I’m doing you a favor by not elaborating. Let’s just say I got the cash and went on my way.
What do you mean, “Sounds like an awful lot of risky work for a pretty scummy vacation?”
You’re going to sit there, look me in the eye, and tell me you haven’t been willing to cut your own arm off to get a fucking week away from your coworkers? Your ‘friends’? Your shitty neighbors who play their music too loud and never make their fucking dog stop barking all goddamn night? The people you work for who are so stuck up their own asses that they don’t acknowledge your existence unless one of them makes a mess or one of them breaks a toilet with their shit that doesn’t stink or one of them throws a party and refuses to clean up despite being the one to brainlessly fling the damn thing together in the first place? That if you didn’t get out and get out soon you were probably going to take the paperweight off of your boss’ desk and just…
Yeah. That’s what I thought.
Now, where was I?
Look, I really should just skip over the boring parts. You’re not here for the boring parts. I don’t want to talk about the boring parts. I flew in, walked around, realized I really was getting what I was paying for here, then headed straight for the local bar.
It was the sort of seedy joint that could give you a buzz just by walking into the room. I peeled some poor schmuck off the counter and got myself a beer. It was a brand I was unfamiliar with and tasted like it’d been seasick on the ride here from the mainland, but I didn’t really care. That first hit of booze sent a wave of ease through my veins and directly into my brain. Nobody here knew me and nobody cared.
It seemed they were focused on their own concerns.
As I said, the whole lot was drunk, but a few had their wits about them well enough to eavesdrop on. At first I thought they were more tourists, they seemed to have been here for a while. Sun darkened skin worn to wrinkles, windswept hair gone brittle from salty ocean spray. I turned a bit, nursing a second bottle by now, making no effort to hide that I was listening.
From what I gathered, something had washed up on the shore. Not exactly a surprise on an island ‘’paradise’’, I figured it might have been bits of a wreck or maybe, God forbid, a damn whale. Whatever it was, it sounded huge.
I listened long enough to peel the label off my bottle, flick it to the floor, then slid out of my stool to move to their table.
I guess that beer was a lot stronger than I thought it was, I staggered a bit on the way. Weird since I can normally down a whole case without so much as a wobble.
They didn’t look pleased, and stared at me through narrow, mistrustful eyes. Maybe I looked too shiny and new, clearly fresh off the plane. Tourist trash in a tourist trap.
“What’s this you guys are talkin’ about?”
Yeah, bold and brassy of me, right? What can I say, a little liquid courage goes a long way.
I thought they were two old geezers, but now that I was closer I could see a certain sharpness to their eyes and fullness to their flesh that made me think that they might even be younger than me. Whatever wall they’d put up to me, they didn’t take it down until I shrugged and waved over a few more beers. Maybe it wouldn’t have worked if they hadn’t already been well into their cups.
“It’s….hard to explain,” one said, a blue eyed fellow with a faded grey sweater. Real rotund guy with a bristly jaw and a red beet of a nose. He looked to the other, who favored a thick salt and pepper beard and a worn tan jacket. Dozens of pockets on the thing, each one I could imagine holding a fistfull of fishing lures.
“Swept in after a storm,” the bearded one said, taking a swig of his bottle. “Pressed into the cliffs on the easterly side of the island.” He shook his head, half of a bemused grin curling across his face. “Honest, it just looks like a massive pile of sand. Silt. Whatever. Holds its shape a bit and it hasn’t been swept away by tide or storm so far. Some of the kids have even started calling it a ‘Sandcastle’. All fun and jokes but there’s something off about the damn thing.”
The bigger guy nodded, looking to me with eyes full of burst capillaries. This one should probably lay off the booze sooner rather than later. “I swear to it, I saw something slithering in and out of it. Get close enough and you can see it moving, just beneath the surface.”
Then I said-
Look, I’m getting to the point, okay? You suits can be real assholes, you know that?
This is how you do, you know? You set up for the big reveal! Build the tension and then-
Look, basically they told me they didn’t know how it got there and that it’d been pressed against the cliffs for a few weeks.
There was this guy, Sully? Sully. He was the first to find it, so they said. Went back into town and got a few others. Sully was a dullard, always poking his nose in places where it didn’t belong. After he’d pulled together a crew he pushed and bullied until he convinced three other guys that they needed to go inside.
That’s what I thought too!
How the Hell do you go ‘inside’ a giant ass pile of sand and rock that got whipped up on the shoreline by a storm?
These two guys, they told me when Sully and his crew got close it rippled. It shivered, then opened up. A cavern entrance peeked open and those idiots just walked inside. Stayed open for maybe fifteen minutes, then sealed up tight. Nobody came out. Nobody approached it again.
Four souls, gone.
Well, sounded like a heaping pile of horseshit to me. So I asked these two jerkoffs to show it to me.
“Where’s this bigass pile of dirt you’re all so scared of?”
Maybe I was a little drunk by that point because I was a lot louder than I intended. Heads all across the room turned to look at us, a mixture of surprise and fear. Gave me a feeling that there might be more going on than what those two told me, but you know how it is when you’ve seen a few too many rooms through the bottom of a bottle.
Now, you probably heard about the fight that broke out. Drunk men make bad decisions, yadda yadda. I could have taken on one of those guys but not both of them. Maybe it was stupid. Two seafaring men who clearly had been honed by the ocean and their lifestyle to kick tourist ass.
Yeah, I got thrown out.
S’how I got this scar here, see?
That’s right. Weird, innit?
Bet you thought that scar had been there for months.
I got my face busted open on the rocks outside of a no account bar in the middle of a shitstain village on a do-nothing island two days ago.
Doesn’t feel like two days.
You suits move real fast, you know that?
How the Hell did you even hear about-
Alright, alright….I’ll keep going.
But can I get some water first?
When I finally found the damn thing, I could barely see it.
I don’t know if you’ve experienced darkness that comes from being alone on a beach. No ambient light from a big city, the world cut off by the ocean on your right and cliffs on your left. There were distant clouds cutting off the moon and blanking out a huge swath of sky, but I thought they were too far away to care about. I had no idea how quickly an island storm could sweep in and just destroy everything.
It was tucked away between two massive slabs of stone, at first appearing just as those drunks in the bar described it. Just sand and silt.
All that buildup for just a heap of nothing.
It made me mad. Madder than it should have.
Look, I don’t know if you’ve noticed by now, but I’ve got a bit of a temper. It’s how I lost my first three jobs and how I got thrown out of my first apartment. Nothing major, it’s not like I’ve ever murdered someone. It just leads to some…bad decisions.
Everyone makes bad decisions sometimes, ya’ know?
I’m sure you’ve made plenty.
I’d be lying if I didn’t say there was a particular draw to it.
I know, it’s hard to explain. Hah, just like that bastard said earlier, right?
There was a moment, very briefly, when the moonlight managed to push through the clouds and pass over the thing. The structure. Whatever it was. And it sort of…well…it shimmered?
This is going to sound stupid but have you ever looked at oil on water? That weird rainbow shine to it? That’s sort of what it was like. I barely saw it, I was all set to turn away and go back to town and then bam.
It was like a whole net of hooks latched onto my brain and began to draw me forward.
Have you ever walked in your sleep?
I haven’t either, but it’s the only comparison I have. It was like I both was and was not in control of my body. Maybe being a little drunk didn’t help, it just seemed like such a good idea to walk up to it.
Sometimes you just don’t realize how immense something is until you’re up close. It took me entirely too long to walk from where I was on the beach to the base of the structure. Felt like half the night, but I knew in my bones if I turned to look at my footsteps on the sand it wouldn’t have been any distance at all.
Once I was close enough, I could see that it wasn’t a smooth pile of sand. There was a vast, intricate network of grooves carved into the side of it, and it was doing more to support its own structure than it seemed. I felt…knew…that if the stones and cliffs disappeared that the thing would stay exactly as it was. As if God and the Ocean and Mother Nature Herself had decided this was simply how it was meant to be.
That shimmer passed over it in pulses, like a heartbeat, growing stronger and brighter as I approached. How could I not see it earlier? A perfect, thrumming, peaceful chorus of light and voices.
Whispers, slithering in my ears and curling around my brain, pressing on the inside of my eyeballs and curling down my throat. I could hear them, feel them. I had no idea what they were saying, but they were beautiful.
I’d used that term, “beautiful”, before. I don’t think I can ever truly use it again. No work of art, no woman, no child, no song. This sound, this tone. This was beauty. All other things paled before it.
I can’t express the sort of draw something like that can have to someone like me. Probably to someone like you too. It did occur to me that I should walk away, that this was something far too immense for me to deal with, that I was too drunk and too stupid to be able to process what I was experiencing.
The thought of leaving hurt. I mean, really and truly hurt. I felt something tighten in my chest and I knew, I knew I was going to have a heart attack and drop dead right there on the beach if I walked away. I couldn’t. I had to move forward.
Then I reached out to touch it.
A moment before I rested my palm on it, the whole structure heaved and closed the distance. It was soft and warm, so much like skin and so unlike anything I’ve ever put my hand on before. Then it pulled away, then pushed outward again. Like a massive beast taking a breath.
The rhythmic pulsing of light slithered across the surface and curled over my hand, then snaked up my arm, pulling me into it.
Somewhere deep down, I wanted to scream, but the whispers hushed me, verbally soothed my mind and then I lost everything to darkness.
Now, I know you’re going to want to know what happened after that, but it’s a fog. I can’t exactly tell you when I lost consciousness, or if I even retained it for any length of time after that thing…absorbed me, I guess.
It was like someone blowing a candle out. My mind was just snuffed.
When I woke up I was on the ground, regurgitated onto a sandy floor. For a moment I thought I was still outside, but when I looked up I could see that rainbow shimmer traveling across the walls of the inside of the structure. It hurt to look at, and the blooming pain behind my eyes made me turn away.
The whispers got louder, pressed harder, escalated to singing screams that thrummed through my ears and drove me to my knees. I covered my ears, tears flooding my face. I won’t lie, I’m not ashamed. I bawled like a fuckin’ baby. I just wanted it to stop. It felt like it was rushing to something, but I wasn’t sure what.
The sound, the colors, the rhythmic thrumming. It went on and on and on…
I tried to crawl away, I don’t know where I thought I was going but movement seemed to be my only option. It was just a big room with a ceiling that peaked out of sight, there really wasn’t anywhere for me to go.
Eyes shut, I kept moving forward, hoping to regain some of my ability to think if I just cut one of my senses off. No sight, no light.
I wish I’d kept my eyes open.Else I might have noticed what I was crawling up to.
I had been so distracted by the tumultuous attack on my senses that I hadn’t noticed the pile in the middle of the room. I would have stayed blind to it if I hadn’t reached out and dropped a hand on something that felt like a frail twig. If I’d pressed any harder, I might have snapped it.
Begrudgingly, I opened my eyes and peered into the hollow sockets of a corpse.
The men. Sully. The four men that had made their way into this thing were here. They lay on the ground as if they had tried to distance themselves as far from the walls as they could. The pulsing light flickered over leathery skin that had been drawn taut over bones, limbs that had shrunken down to sticks, brittle hair that looked like it might fracture into dust if I touched it.
I think the shock of stumbling across a pack of corpses was enough to loosen the hold of the thing.
Then, very slowly, on brittle joints and creaking flesh that had no more substance than old leather, four heads all turned to me, cracking open their lipless mouths and exhaled a plume of something that couldn’t possibly have been dust.
Why couldn’t it have been?
Well…because it moved.
This cloud of silvery grey powder left their mouths and skin, lifting into the air and danced about me. Twisting and twirling, and the voices moved and flowed to match their movement.
Somehow, the dust was singing to me.
It was alive. The whole thing, the shimmering structure of rainbow lights, the dust crawling over those corpses, over my skin, into my ears and through my hair. It was all alive.
What do you do when you’re surrounded by something as mobile and as inescapable as water?
It was alive and flowing over me and through me and I didn’t want to die.
I would have. I still might, but I got lucky.
God, I didn’t want to die.
It was the storm that saved me.
A crashing BOOM of thunder shattered through the voices, sent a tremor through the entire world. I felt the sand beneath me shiver, and the dust….the sand…the creatures that made up the structure I was in…that crawled over me suddenly move more rapidly. I had begun to collapse, screaming as the dust filled my mouth and dried out my eyes,
It was dust and I was dust and dust is where we come from and dust is where we return and how many people had died and how far had this thing traveled and was this just a mountain of corpses that ate more and craved more and wanted more and more and more and more and…
I’m sorry, I’ll calm down…
The storm was what brought me back. It’s what saved me.
The rain hit, the wind must have been whipping the surf into a torrent of waves. A distant wall began to collapse against itself as the water outside wore away at it.
The singing turned into screeching.
The tide came in.
The whole world was washed away.
I think that’s when you found me. After the sun had come up, alone on the beach.
Please, I’m so dry. Please.
May I have a glass of water?