Pazuzu's Crypt

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 are a reputable company and are considered safe and reliable. So much so that they are often contracted by the government. Truth be told, I will miss working for them. 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 had just crushed. After getting out of the water and stripping off my gear, I began examining them. The shells had what appeared to be hieroglyphics etched into them. I learned from one of the senior guys that this wasn’t common, but had happened to several of them before.

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 that they could investigate. I was sitting comms and logs (communicate with divers and monitor depth & 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. But there was no sign of the pilot. We recovered the plane and the military took custody of it. We never heard about it again.

I witnessed another strange occurrence from topside at the location of a planned 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 helmet’s demand regulator provides air from their umbilical. Then when they exhale, it is exhausted into the water and floats up to the surface. On topside you can watch the bubbles to get a general sense of where the divers are. Now on 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 neither could see anything out of the ordinary. Then, even from the surface, we heard a blood curdling screech from the waters. Then 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, it looked like the water in the distance was boiling, and it was getting closer. It wasn’t boiling though. It was countless new bubble streams moving nearer to the location our divers were working. The supervisor ordered the divers to get onto the dive stage to be lifted back to surface. The bubbles were frighteningly 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 elected to pull the divers out without completing their decompression stops and throw them into our hyperbaric chamber.

During another dive near the Bahamas I had a frightening experience. It was my first salvage job with them, so I got in with a highly experienced diver. At 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 (air supply hose) from just outside the ship (it’s highly advisable since it’s dangerous to enter a sunken ship) to which he stated no. He didn’t want to enter the ship. He insisted he was on the port side of the ship. Assuming he was disoriented I reached in to grab him. Just before touching him, I realized there were no bubbles coming from the helmet. Whatever this was, it wasn’t breathing. I backed up and reported that something else was down here. I expected mockery, but there was none. The next thing I heard was the diving supervisor. “Both divers, square yourselves away and get ready to leave bottom” When 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.

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 comms I could hear topside instructing the other diver to find me. How long had I been down here? How long had I 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. It was moving toward me. “Topside, I’ve found him” He reached down and grabbed my harness to drag me back to our dive stage. As he pulled me, I rolled over and got a brief glance at my surroundings. I had been laying in a pile of human bones.

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. On 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 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 coughing 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 laying motionless in the bags. They appeared to have just drowned. We attempted CPR but were unable to revive the men. The man, who was somehow now alive, was backing away from us. Screaming of the horrors he’d witnessed. He screamed about an eternity spent burning. We locked him in a room and contacted the military that we had found a “survivor” Within the hour a 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 bent over to inspect them, unzipping the bags. As he opened the bags, an unbearable stench overtook us. The bodies appeared to be in decay, as if they’d been dead and soaking in the water for a week. He zipped it back up and had them lifted into the chopper. Then we escorted him to the survivor. We could 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 decaying. The man calmly walked him to the chopper and the two of them were lifted onboard. We never heard about them again. However, I went back and examined the room. With his blood he had drawn hieroglyphics on the walls. I’m still not certain of what I 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. He refused to let us examine it any further.

Saved from 4chan’s /x/ on Friday Sep 28th 2012 at 1:31 AM Eastern Time. Edited slightly from the original thread to improve grammar and flow.

Here’s my story:

>be 16 >be black and have family down in Alabama >they farm and own a huge amount of land down in Huntsville >uncle owns a big house and a bunch of trailers they put out in the woods for hunting or camping >down south cousins suggest that we go out there to camp >know I’m a city kid from Chicago so they tease the fuck out of me >collect food, kill a pig and some chickens, and bring necessities to camp out for a few days >we get to the camp and it’s obvious something is weird >air has this weird electric smell like right before a storm, like ozone >we think nothing of it and unpack and go down to a little creek to swim for a few hours >All of a sudden some older white guy and a white teenager come out of the bushes >he has a shotgun in the crook of his arm and says hello and ask us what we’re doing this far back in the woods >tell him about my uncle, who he knows, and say we’re camping out >he tells us we need to be real careful out here and stick together there was a big animal in the woods >His son, who is my age asks if he can stay and hang out with us >he says OK

I’m going to stop greentexting because the story is fairly long and the format is harder to write in.

So we end up playing football. Dicking around with me, there’s the white kid “Tanner”, five of my cousins, and then four of their friends. In total, there were five girls and six boys. We all were around 15-17.

We ended up just dicking the day away. So, we head back to the camp and pulling out some stuff for a campfire, even though the trailers both had kitchenettes. Tanner says that his family’s property sits up against my uncle’s. He wants to run home and ask his dad if he can come out camping with us. My cousin Rooster says he’s going to go with him since it’s going to get dark soon. One of the girls also wants to tag along.

It’s about 7 o’clock, and it’s starting to get pretty dark. They take flashlights and take the trail toward Tan’s property. The rest of us chill. We make smores, drink and kiss on the girls.

About thirty or forty minutes later, there’s the smell of ozone again. You could smell it over the smell of the fire we had started. This really nasty, coppery smell like right after you’ve had a nosebleed and it’s stopped. It wasn’t exactly like dried blood, but it was that nasty metallic, back-of-your-throat smell.

We immediately think that it’s some kind of electrical malfunction, or someone left a hotplate on or some shit. We search the trailers and nothing is on, and we can all smell it. All of a sudden, we can hear people booking down the path toward us, and Rooster, Tan and the girl all come running into the clearing, out of breath. And they don’t even break stride; they all run into the trailer, right by where the fire is.

We all get the fuck outta there and into the trailers. They end up calming down; even Rooster is crying his fucking eyes out at this point. All the while, the fire is guttering lower and lower, so my other cousins say fuck it and are about to go outside to get the generator out of a shed between the trailers.

Tanner goes, “Fuck no! Lock the front door, ain’t nobody else going outside!” He’s been crying too, and his eyes are bloodshot and puffy and his pants are dirty as shit.

He goes on to tell us that they went up to his house. His father said sure, he could go out camping, but to make sure they were careful on the way back, and that maybe they should take one of the hunting rifles just in case.

Evidently, Tanner had seen something in their yard a few days before. One of their pigs had come up, ripped up and half eaten. They assumed it was just some big cats or coyotes, even though they don’t usually fuck with live animals.

He had gone upstairs and packed his stuff, and told his dad they would be OK without the rifle because coyotes avoid people. So they started walking back toward where we were camping.

So, Rooster finally stops crying and shaking; the girl already had, but she was just staring out the window with a dumb look on her face. He says they had gotten halfway into the woods toward the camp when they started to hear shit in the forest. It was almost pitch black by this time, so they weren’t sure at first what the fuck it was. The girl says that she heard something in the bushes right off the trail and they all beamed their flashlights over there and there was someone standing back in the woods in a little hollow. Rooster said they shouted at him and told him that he was scaring the fuck out of them and what a dick he was.

He says that’s when he realized that the guy was facing away from them. So they keep walking, and they start smelling the nasty coppery ozone smell. They say that they look off into the forest on the opposite side, and it’s a dude standing in the forest, backward slightly closer to the path.

So now they start powerwalking and Tan keeps going, “I should have taken the fucking rifle.”

As they’re telling the story, the smell is still super strong even inside the cabin.

Two sentence Horror Stories Part 1.

Two Sentence Horror Stories Part 4

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This is for my Horror Blog: Pazuzu’s Crypt!

SO in addition to my post about the Entity haunting and the Enfield Poltergiest here’s another TRUE paranormal haunting event. It’s crazy how it sounds like a horror movie, but is real life for some people. 

In the town of South Shields, a nasty spirit haunted a young couple and their three-year-old son. They go by the name Marianne and Marc.

Around December 2005, the spirit stacked chairs, moved chests of drawers, and slammed doors. It also used small, cuddly toys to scare them.

One night in bed, Marianne felt her son’s toy dog hit her on the back of the head. She sat up and turned on the lights just in time to see a second stuffed dog flying in her direction.

Marc also felt 13 scratches on his back. The scratches were gone the next morning.

While the poltergeist had shown that it could cause direct physical harm to humans, it seemed determined that toys were the way to go.

It hung a rocking horse from the ceiling by its reins, and it placed a large, cuddly rabbit in a chair at the top of the stairs—with a knife in its adorable paws.

The ghost left messages on the young boy’s whiteboard. They were typically threatening messages, like, “You’re Dead.” The ghost even sent text messages, that couldn’t be traced.

The family called in paranormal researchers Mike Hallowell and Darren Ritson. The experts determined that even the ghost was real. Among the things you can see on the book’s website are a picture of a plastic bottle poised in an “impossible” way, and a message on a magnetic drawing toy that says, “JUST GO NOW”