Stories of the Creepypasta's

The Midnight Lock-Up

This story began about five days ago but I’ve only now just got round to writing it down. I’ll take my time to make sure I share everything with you and the fact that this whole ordeal hasn’t once left my mind makes me feel certain that I won’t miss any details. It’s going to be a very long story, maybe too long for some people; but I just need some sort of explanation to keep me from feeling insane. I’m hoping that if I write it all down, maybe I or someone else can make some sense of it – as little as there may be.

Well I suppose this story actually began 48 years ago and the only reason I know anything about it is because of my Grandad. From the 60’s up until the late 80’s, my Grandad used to work on the ships as a deckhand. He worked on many different ships under the wing of many different captains, and so the sea – being the exciting place that it is – left him with hundreds of stories to tell. When I was a young boy, I would continuously ask him to tell me these stories – even the ones I had already heard. Some of them were gruesome, some of them were funny, there was even a few sad tales; but only one of them was genuinely scary. I remember almost all of the stories that he’d share with me but I think it’s obvious which one stood out the most.

My Grandad was 23 in 1964 and he’d just been drafted onto a ship that was delivering cargo to countries in South America. It was no different than the other two ships that he’d previously worked on, except maybe it was bit bigger. I won’t give the real name of the ship, but for future reference, we will call it The CWS. My Grandad began the story by explaining to me just how strange the captain of the ship was; how he was a lot happier and friendlier than other captains he’d worked with, but only during the day. Once the clock was nearing midnight, he would become paranoid, angry and agitated – the complete opposite to his day-walking self. He’d scurry around the ship, briskly rushing everyone into their private quarters; ignoring any questions they would ask. Then, just before locking each door, he would stare into their eyes and plead with them not to try and leave their rooms until the morning came… almost everybody listened.

At this point, I should mention that the captain had an annoying habit that the crew had to put up with; he would sing ‘Do You Want To Know A Secret?’ by The Beatles, all day, every day without fail – and that’s the only song he would sing. Even in the night, they could hear him humming the tune from behind his locked cabin door.

After being on the ship for a week or so, all of the sailors were beginning to grow more and more annoyed at the actions of the captain. His seemingly split personality, his constant singing – all of his annoying traits; but most of all, it was the way he locked everyone in their rooms of a night, almost as if they were children not to be trusted. That was until one night changed the way they were all feeling.

It was the usual time of night when the captain would dart about, clumsily rushing everyone into their cages; but one of the deckhands – JP – had a plan. Earlier on in the day, he had altered the lock on his door so that he could open it from inside of his room with ease by using a magnet. My Grandad was told that JP had the intention of getting everyone else out of their rooms for a party on the lower deck; so naturally, they were all excited and ready for a night of drinking. With his ear up against the door, my Grandad listened intently to what was going on outside of his room. Over the captain’ monotonous pop-song droning, he heard a lock snap open and the hushed creak of a lone, metal door. Just as footsteps began echoing throughout the empty halls; the humming stopped. As my Grandad winced at the door in annoyance, he heard – all of them heard – vicious thuds and screams of pain; howling and scratching at the floor while JP begged for help. His cries were growing fainter, almost as if he was being dragged through the ship; lower and lower into the steel abyss. As the fading remainder of his pain erupted from the halls, my Grandad stepped back in horror as all movement outside the door had stopped and the damp corridor echoed silence.