Speaker 1: If you're reading this, I apologize in advance. Sorry this
is so long.
Speaker 2: There's a lot I've been keeping on my shoulders for
a long long time. I trust all of you here,
and I have to share my story. You don't have
to believe me. I'm sure most of you won't, but
I'm laying it all out here so at least it
won't go to my grave with this horrible secret. So
I'll stop rambling now and I'll.
Speaker 1: Lay it down for you.
Speaker 2: For a long time, me and my two closest friends,
Logan and Joel, we've had a ridiculous tradition. But one
of us had a birthday. The birthday boy got pranked.
A little background of my friends, Joel was always the
skinny kid. No matter how much junk he ate, he
always seemed to be ten pounds underweight. He usually wore
the same clothes t shirts, jeans. If it was cold,
he wore a hoodie if it was warm, who were shorts.
He had shaggy blonde hair that usually fell over his face.
Couldn't grow facial hair if he tried, and believe me,
he tried. Joel was naive endearingly so Logan was the
outgoing person in our crew. He was athletic and at
least a foot taller than the other two of us.
He had buzzed black hair and thick eyebrows. Came from
a family with Mediterranean roots. Logan could be very persuasive.
He had this amazing way of talking himself out of
almost any situation. He could diffuse people without saying anything.
He always said it was his award winning smile. Then me.
Speaker 1: You can call me Edward anyway.
Speaker 2: Our tradition started when we were high schoolers in the
late nineties. Joel and I decided to pull a practical
joke on Logan for his birthday in July. We showed
up at his house before he got up and prepared
him for the worst morning of his life. We almost
woke him up, giggling like idiots. Just a few of
the highlights. We put plastic wrap over his toilet seat,
he filled his shower head with red kool Aid powder,
and replaced his face soap with school glue. Let's just
say that he had an interesting morning. Of course, he
swore avenge shortly after. Joel and I got a good
laugh out of it. Since my birthday is in mid October,
I would have been next on the list. I braced
myself for retaliation. First, I thought I was off the
hook as my birthday came and went uneventfully. Didn't come
until Halloween night. I spent the entire evening out in
my neighborhood with my little cousin, Trick retreating, who was
dressed as a secret Service agent, complete with a little
black suit, aviator, sunglasses, and a coiled earpiece. He was
even strapped with a plastic pistol in a holster. When
I got home, I was exhausted chasing a nine year
old around and making sure he didn't get run over.
It was a lot more tiring than I anticipated. At
the end of the night, I ambled to my room
like a zombie and flung the door open, intent on
passing out the second my head hit the pillow. As
soon as my door completely opened, an ear piercing siren
assaulted my ears, instantly triggering my fight or flight response
and filling me with adrenaline. My brain struggled to understand
while my body decided to attack the doorframe. Clawing helplessly
at the wall, I spun around on my heels and
bolted in the opposite direction. Slamming my shoulder hard into
the doorframe. After my senses returned, I realized was coming
from inside my room. When I checked behind my door,
I found an air horn duct taped to the wall,
perfectly aligned with the door handle. I instantly knew who
was responsible. Joel, of course, was next. His birthday was
late January. Logan and I got together and planned our
prank carefully. Logan invited Joel over for a night of StarCraft,
pizza and various sugary junk foods. I was also invited,
but pretended to have other plans so.
Speaker 1: And be able to make it.
Speaker 2: While the two of them were hanging out, I suck
in a Jeel's house and kidnapp Arraco, his two year
old and Lasapso. The next day, Joel came to school
thinking his dog ran away, which for him was the
cruelest prank of all. Actually felt bad, and it wasn't
long before we told him the truth. He didn't speak
to either of us for a week after that. So
this tradition was born, and this went on for years,
that is, until things went wrong. One year, when we
were all in our mid twenties, Logan and I ran
into each other at a party. We hadn't seen each
other for a couple of years. After catching up, we
started reminiscing about our old pranks. It was only a
matter of time before we had formulated a plot to
prank Joel. The first part of the plan was to
invite him to the Logan's grandfather's cabin for a weekend.
He was situated in the woods by a lake around
three hours out of town. Of course, Joel, knowing his
birthday was just around the corner and the fact that
we hadn't hung out in a while, immediately suspected foul
play and called us out on the prank. Miraculously, we
were able to convince him that we were done pranking
and two grown up for dirty tricks. When we finally
got out of the cabin, we actually had a great
time bonding doing buddy stuff. This basically amounted to drinking,
goofing off, and telling ghost stories around the campfire pit
behind the cabin. The second night, after we were good
and toasted, the second part of the plan was engaged.
We were passing a cigarette around when Logan suggested we
take his grandpa's boat out into the lake to go fishing.
Catch the little fuckers while they're asleep, he said, laughing.
This was, after all, the tradition of ours as well.
Three of us had fished together countless times on that
lake over the years. This was as good a time
as any. It was cold, but not cold enough for
the lake to freeze. We climbed into the boat and
I paddled us out into the center of the glassy lake.
I can see my friend's breath puffing out swirly wisps.
We then proceeded to drunkenly fumble through an old stained
tackle box, attempting to bait hooks. Suddenly, Logan shouted at me, hey,
be more careful. He grabbed my left hand as blood
ran down his finger. He slashed me with your hook, jackass.
Speaker 1: I stood up in the boat.
Speaker 2: You did that yourself, you drunk an idiot. I fired back.
Logan stood up and shoved me with his good hand.
He forced me back down into the sitting position. Within moments,
we were wrestling and rolling around on the floor of
the small fiberglass boat. Stop it, the boat's gonna tip over,
Joe yelled helplessly. I let go, and Logan stood up
abruptly and yelled something at me. He lost his balance,
suddenly pitching off the side of the boat. He fell
backwards and was swallowed up by the black water. Instantly,
he sank like a stone. Oh shit, shit, Joel screamed,
looking over the edge into the water. It was too
dark to see our friend. He wasn't thrashing around. He
didn't seem to be surfacing either. A pointed a flashlight
into the water. Joel quickly hit the switch on his
Dura cell headlamp.
Speaker 1: The beams cut.
Speaker 2: Into the murky lake, but apparently not deep enough to
make contact. First there were bubbles, lots of them. Then
there was nothing. Here's something, shouted Joel. On the ViRGE tears.
Joel's head was on a swivel, checking back and forth
for Logan in the water. We silently shone our lamps
from point to point, looking for any sign.
Speaker 1: Logan was just gone.
Speaker 2: Joel turned to me, his head lamp shining in my eyes.
What the hell, man, he said, He is crying now,
Logan's a good swimmer. It doesn't make sense. Joel slumped
back into the boat, cradled his face in his hands.
I leaned back over the boat's edge, shining my light again.
Logan was nowhere to be found. Now. Of course, I
knew Logan was a good swimmer. He was an exceptional swimmer.
As a matter of fact, he spent time at the
lake every summer growing up. He was such a good
swimmer that Joel didn't realize he had swim under the
boat and toward Fidget's Bar, a small island near the
center of the lake. The actual name was Box Island
if you were to look it up on a map.
In an age long past, Logan's grandfather had an Australian
shepherd named Fidget, and he named the island after the pooch.
Allegedly long before they did so, we always called it
Fidget's Bar. The island was only one hundred feet or
so away from where our boat was situated, so I
had no doubt that swim was a breeze to Logan.
At this moment, Joel looked back at me, again, do something,
Why don't we do something. I started to remember back
in high school, when he made Joel think his dog
had run away, that feeling of guilt, that the joke
had maybe gone a little too far. I saw Joel's
face now, his eyes red and swollen, his nose running.
His hands were trembling. I shouted, let's go to a
physis bar and regroup. I grabbed the oars and started
to paddle in the direction of the island. Joel grabbed
onto the front of the boat anxiously. Soon the boat
made landfalls, scraping ashore. Joel sprung out and pulled the
front of the boat in. He yanked hard as I
was getting up, and I fell backwards into the boat.
I didn't say anything. As I was climbing out of
the boat. Joel already stripping his clothes off. What are
you doing, Joel, I asked, well, going in after him,
he shouted as he pulled.
Speaker 1: His shirt off.
Speaker 2: Look, Joel, I started, but he wasn't hearing any of it.
Joel waited out until he was waist deep in the
frigid water of the lake. I shouted after him, Joel,
it was a prank. Logan's here on the island. The
word prank escaped my mouth. You could see Joel's shoulders
go up. He didn't turn around, but he was frozen
in place. It was a long pause. As I stood
at the shore fiberglass boat, looking out at Joel. An
icy wind dragged across the surface of the lake. The
trees on the island behind us thrashed about in the gust.
For a moment, my eyes caught the moon in the
sky and I looked up, just for a moment. The
hit came next, and I didn't expect it. Joel's fist
collided with the bridge of my nose hard. I heard
a pop, and then nothing.
Speaker 1: Then I was on the ground.
Speaker 2: The cold wind was still blowing, but for the moment
my face was hot. I heard a ringing in my ears.
For a few seconds, Jolls paced around the rocky shore.
When the wind stopped blowing, it was suddenly eerily quiet
on the shore of Fidget's bar. I stood up and
saw the Joel was standing with his back to me,
still shirtless, shoeless, and only wearing wet boxer shorts. His
ribs stuck out as he breathed. I didn't say a word,
but started the up his clothes. Once I had gathered
all of his stuff, I handed it over to him.
Joel took the clothes and got dressed. Meanwhile, I sat
back and lit a cigarette. I ran my hand over
my face and felt my nose. My hand came back bloody,
so Joel asked me quietly, where's Logan now? I pointed
my thumb behind me at the thick mass of trees,
the ones leading into absolute darkness. I have no idea
he should be here on the bar, somewhere. I pulled
myself to my feet and looked at the dark of
the woods. There was no noise on Fidget's bar. The
wind had ceased to howl. The trees stood still and silent.
Joel and I stood side by side at the precipice
of darkness. It occurred to me that I had never
actually explored the island before, neither Joel. To my knowledge,
Logan used to talk about blazing trails in the brush
of the bar with his grandpa, but that was years ago.
Presently we stood at the edge of the dark woods,
with no real knowledge of what lie ahead. In fact,
one fact remained, Logan hadn't shown himself yet. Then Joel
inhaled sharply and took a step towards the woods. He
flipped the switch on his head lamp, casting a beam
into the darkness of the forest. I turned my flashlight
on and followed suit. Joel's head was on a swivel,
sweeping back and forth to dimly reveal our surroundings. Together
we walked upon what appeared to be a trail that
led deep into the trees of Fidget's bar. But ahead
there seemed to be some kind of clearing. At this
point I wanted to find my friend and get the
hell off the island. I wasn't upset about the punch
I deserved it, Probably mostly I was still in shock
of what happened and regretted the whole prank idea. Also,
something felt wrong. We hadn't discussed hiding on the island
like this. We should have seen Logan by now. The
original plan was to regroup on the island and then
Logan would jump out scare Joel. I should have been
the end of it. Joel would have laughed and got me,
and we would have headed back to the cabin for
drinks and shenanigans. This plane had gone sour, and I
had a feeling in the pit of my stomach and
that I couldn't shake. But ahead and the clearing, we
could see a well. There was an old fashioned well
built from stone. The pulley suspended above the rusted crank
looked like it hadn't been touched in ages. Ferns and
spinly vines of ivy had grown round the base of
the well and coiled up around the wooden frame above.
No rope or bucket to be seen. Just beyond the well,
nearly swallowed by trees, was a small shack buried in
the underbrush. I couldn't hear a single sound here. For
a brief moment, I felt as though I might have
hurt my ears, and Joel hit me maybe it was
the fall. There were no birds, no voices, no wind,
no nothing, stillness, silence in the forest. Finally a noise.
It was nearly inaudible at first, then it grew. It
was a voice calling out. I recognized at his logans.
Initially I was flooded with relief, but his voice sounded
far away and echoed. Joel and I ran towards the sound,
which appeared to be coming from inside the shack. It
was a dilapidated old building, not much larger than a
detached garage. Once we looked into the one at the foggy,
cracked windows, it was obvious that someone at sometime lived
in there. Most of the windows are broken or covered
in branches. The siding was unpainted. The roof collapsed. The
front door at one spin painted green, but was all
bubbled and rotten. Splitting from the inside. Won a hard
push from Joel and the door disintegrated. We went inside
and saw a pale blue table turned upside down with
a heap of broken chairs. There was some utensils scattered
about the floor, so as broken plates and rusted out kettle.
A pile of ancient newspapers, bound and string were stacked
to the ceiling in one corner. The place was wet,
it smelled like mildew. Then we heard the voice again,
Logan's voice. It didn't seem to be coming from the
house this time. No, it was coming from below us, somewhere.
Joel and I noticed this at the same time, and
started searching the damp floor for a trapdoor or a
hatch of some kind to get below the shack. I
pushed the pile of newspapers over and they fell to
the floor with a heavy thump. Meanwhile, Joel was throwing
the rotted old chair parts aside. Looking underneath, it occurred
to me the part of the floor we were standing
almost actually matted with the remains of an air wea rug.
I pushed with my shoes to try and move it,
but seemed to be fuse to the floor that dropped
to my knees and felt around for a seam. It
was in vain. We didn't find anything. After our exhaustive search,
we went outside to look for a cellar, hatch or
anything to get the Logan's voice below. I realized it
almost immediately when I stepped out into the crude porch.
Speaker 1: The well.
Speaker 2: The two of us made our way over to the
ancient looking stone well. We stood on either side and
peered down. Joel's head lamp cut down aways, but the
bottom of the well remained dark. I shouted down the shaft, Hey, Logan,
are you down there? Joel yelled too, again can you
hear us? And then Logan's voice echoed up. Hey, you
guys made it. Finally Joel gave me an inquisitive look.
What are you doing down there? Joel said to the
darkness of the well. There was no answer, Logan. I said,
how the hell did you get down there? Finally his
voice came back. He d remember what he made Joel
think his dog was gone. Joel and I exchanged a glance. Yeah,
I remember, Joel said, smartly right here, Dick. Logan's voice again,
Hey Ed, it's really cold down here. How do we
get you out? Joel shouted back, so fucking cold, you guys.
Logan's voice said, give us a second, Logan, well, think
of something. I shouted, you're having Joel's jacket and pulling
away from the well. When we were a few feet
away from the well, I pulled Joel close enough that
our faces were nearly touching.
Speaker 3: Joe, he's not making any sense. I know, what do
you think he's doing down there? Joel asked, Maybe he phil,
maybe he's in shock. Maybe there's maybe there's another way
down there.
Speaker 1: We should ask him, I said.
Speaker 2: We went back to the opening of the well and
I shouted down Logan, is there another way into the well?
Speaker 1: There was a long silence.
Speaker 2: Logan shouted, Joel the well, said Logan's voice. Finally, what
are you talking about? You're in a well, Logan, I
said back. Hey Ed, said Logan's voice, you should really
come down here. It's delightfully cold. And Logan's voice said
delightfully cold. Something sounded wrong about his voice. It was
almost sing songy, chilled me to the bone. Joel and
I looked at each other. I could see the fear
in Joel's face. Joel whispered, what the.
Speaker 1: Fuck is he talking about?
Speaker 2: Logan's voice rose up from the darkness.
Speaker 1: Again.
Speaker 2: We got you good with that air horn, didn't we add?
Almost forgotten the airhorn on Halloween all this years ago. Yeah, yeah,
you got me. I said, let's get you out of there.
Don't you want to go home? Yeah, Logan's islands creepy
as hell, Joel said, down the well, maybe we could
lower something down for you to grab onto you. Huh.
Logan's voice came back. Just jump on down, guys, I
can catch you. We need to get you out of there.
I said back, there's no way in hell we're coming down.
Such a beautiful day, Logan said, in that strange, sing
songy voice. Again, such a beautiful day. And that was
the last time I ever heard Logan's voice. Joel and
I shouted for him for nearly an hour before we
decided to go back to the cabin and call the police.
For the following week, the search crew, including the local police,
searched Fidget's bar top to bottom. They calmed the entire
half mile long stretch of the forest without finding anything.
Speaker 1: After that, they searched the lake.
Speaker 2: Police boats dredged the lake for days until finally.
Speaker 1: They found something.
Speaker 2: Nine days after the search began, they found what they
were looking for. Logan's body was extracted from the lake
about eighty yards away from the shore Fidgeed bar. The
place would tell us his neck was broken. When Logan
fell from the boat, he hit his head on a
large submerged rock. His death was instant, they told us.
He would have been dead before he was completely in
the water because of the sudden trauma. He exhaled sharply
and sank into the bottom. He said he never drew
another breath. So if Logan was dead when he hit
the water, who did we talk to in the forest
on Fidget's bar? Whose voice was that I understand why
my story needed to be told. I mean, like I said,
I I don't expect you to believe me, but.
Speaker 1: Why would you?
Speaker 2: It's crazy, But at least it's out there now you
can decide for yourself.
Speaker 1: Either. Kids.
Speaker 2: It's me mister creepy Pasta, and I just wanted to
tell you thank you so much for watching tonight's video
or for listening to tonight's episode of the podcast. It's
still cold. I don't know if you guys have that
major freeze that happened to me, but uh yeah, it's
in Texas and it's snowing, so it's pretty damn cold.
But you know what's not cold A hot cup of
tea and my wife still sells tea. And as always,
I want to give a very big thank you to
everybody who supports me over at Patreons patreon dot com
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Speaker 1: In sweet your Hymns,