Come to my Saturday night YouTube Livestreams at 6 PM Pacific athttps://www.youtube.com/channel/UC9L_5FiZHfzfaHg8UlrFAtwTerrifying Creepypasta Story About Flesh Eating Mermaids Told in the Rain with Ocean WavesGet more info at https://www.scarystorytime.comTwitter https://www.twitter.com/spookyboorhodesFacebook https://www.facebook.com/boorhodes
Tonight's story isA Fisherman's Talehttps://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/Fisherman%27s_TaleBackground sounds of waves and a light thunderstorm from Coastal Thunderstorm in the Redwoods by Spooky Boo RhodesAmbiance of Sandcastlehttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7vRiQNjWAtI
Fisherman's TaleBefore I start this story, I’d like to explain an expression from my native language, Brazilian Portuguese. As you may have already concluded, I’m Brazilian. I was born and raised in a small town in Bahia, a state to the northeast of the country. My city basically survives through fishing, so I can pretty much say that the expression. I’ll explain right now is one commonly used there.“História de Pescador”, or, in English, “fisherman’s tale” is an expression used to name tall tales or absurd lies told by someone. As you must have already guessed, it’s named so because fishermen usually stories about giant fish they caught or some fantastic creature they saw in the ocean or something around that. My dad used to be a fisherman, so I guess I can say I really heard lots of those.Anyway… My family was really poor. Actually, the whole small, almost microscopic fishing-based town we lived in was really poor. Well, not only that, we lived in one of the poorest regions of Brazil. Despite that, I can’t really say that I had a bad childhood. On the contrary, actually. Sure, we had our share of difficulties, but we had a simple life and I never came even close to starving or working as a child.As I already said, dad was a fisherman. Mom was a school teacher. If you don’t know about Brazil’s basic education situation, then I’ll just sum it up to you: it’s awful. The government doesn’t really care about basic education and it pays our teachers really badly. Despite that, the two of them always incentivized me to study really hard, which I do to this very day.Especially dad, who couldn’t read at all. He had a very difficult life and I won’t be getting into detail with that. Not because I don’t want to, but because he barely ever spoke about his younger days, which leads me to believe he went through some really tough situations. But, still, he always had a smile on his tanned face.Whenever he’d take his fishing trips with his fellow fishermen, he’d tell me one of his “fisherman’s tales”. It usually was about some trouble he went through in the high seas or something he heard of. I think that’s how he tried to tell me stories so I could sleep easily before he left early the next morning. And since he couldn’t do the usual “grab a fairy tale book and read your kid to sleep” thing, I guess he made up his own stories. I also think it was his way to say some sort of goodbye, since his fishing ventures took from 3 to 4 days, and you’d never know if there was an accident or not.Anyway, I knew better than to believe in sea dragons or colossal tuna fish, but I never complained. I always loved his tales, no matter how absurd they were. I had my own Errol Flynn at home, always with some fantastic adventure to talk about.When I got old enough, he began to take me to the sea with him on some weekends. I think that’s what made me fall in love with the sea life. So much we didn’t know, literally right beneath our feet, so much mystery under those blue, deep waters… I became fascinated with sea life. Dad agreed with me about the mysteries when I first talked to him about how enthusiastic I was about oceanic biology, which led me to believe it was going to end up as another tale of his. But instead, he said nothing else and looked at the sea with distant, but shaken eyes. —I guess it runs in the family — he muttered in a sad sarcasm. It sounded more like he was talking to himself instead of talking to me. I found it strange but thought nothing of it at the time.There was this one day, though, that made me think about that look in his eyes. Or rather, every single look of his, but more specifically that one. There was a subtle emotion that didn’t really fit with my dad’s usual sunny personality. I remember it all too well. I was 16 at the time and I already decided I wanted to become a biologist. The local school had grown just a tiny bit due to a government program. I was pretty sure there was something weird about that, but made no big deal of it. I had better education and a real shot at life because of it, so it didn’t matter. I was the best student at the school at the time, since I was dedicating myself to getting into a public university in any way I could.A quick explanation before I go on. Public universities in Brazil are mostly very good, but also extremely difficult to get into since there’s an entrance exam called “vestibular” that tests everything you’ve ever studied in your whole school life in a very rigorous way. High school here basically prepares you for it.Anyhow, going back to the main subject.That night, at dinner, dad was acting weird. He was… silent. Usually, he’d always be telling mom jokes, making her slam the table as she laughed. But not that night. That night, he kept quiet, with a shocked look in his eyes. Almost as if he’d seen a ghost. He was going to leave to one more of his fishing ventures at high seas the next morning, so I expected a tale. Nothing. When we finished dinner, he kissed mom very softly on her cheek, almost as he was saying his last goodbyes. I was making my way to bed, very puzzled by his attitude when he followed me to my small bedroom, which was getting cramped with books from the school’s library.I felt a little better, as his tales always put a smile on his face and mine. But when he started speaking, I couldn’t help but feel a chill down my spine. I know it sounds strange, a 16-year-old boy still having his father telling him bedtime stories. However, dad and I really bonded through that. His tales became more and more elaborate as I spoke to him about literature. He and I would always laugh together and… Well, I couldn’t ever let go of that."Tale time, isn’t it, boy?" he said in a melancholic way."Is everything alright, dad?" I asked as I sat in my bed."Yeah… I’m just… Thinking, that’s all. — he answered, in a distant way. I knew he was lying. I just didn’t know why at the time. — There’s a tale I wanted to tell you when you grew older. My dad told me this one.I was taken aback a little. Dad barely ever spoke of grandpa, who died when dad turned 19. That was new. I wanted to know more about dad’s story, even just a tiny bit. That was my chance. I sat up and listened carefully.—Have you ever heard of the tale of the singing fish? — he asked.I shook my head in denial. That was definetely not how he told his stories. As I said before, he nearly always made them up, so to have one that was already ready… That was big news.—They say that this tale is as old as the first boat made by man. A tale that might as well as be true. You said it yourself that the sea holds many mysteries. Anyway… It’s said that deep in the sea, lives a form of fish that was born to trick sailors. One so diabolic that it makes the biggest of sharks look friendly. They call it the singing fish. As silly as it sounds, the singing fish is the most dangerous thing to ever come to life. It has the tail like of a dolphin… You know, fins to the sides. — He was talking about the horizontal fins, I thought. I found it strange. There were dolphins in Brazil, that’s true, but nowhere near where people of my town went fishing, so how did his dad know that? More importantly… “Singing fish”? I grew more and more confused, but shook my thoughts, as dad went on with his tale. — They have long tails and an upper body that looks almost human, but covered in dark blue scales. My father told me they even had arms and hands, with six fingers each. He also told me they have long hair and an appearance close to a woman’s. Also, a big mouth filled with long, thin and very sharp teeth. But the most dangerous feature about it is its voice.—Its voice? — I disdainfully asked. Fish don’t have voices, I thought to myself. A fisherman would know that very well too.—Yes, its voice. — Dad calmly answered. — A female voice, a very beautiful voice that can’t be forgotten. One so beautiful that… messes with your head. You may hear it once, but never twice. Whoever has an encounter with it, vanishes in the ocean, along with the boat and whomever is with them. They say that men are hypnotized by the voice and are taken down to the water to be eaten by the singing fish and its children.Dad finished his unusual story with a grim look on his face. I was scared, not because of the mermaid story, but because of his eyes and the fact that he was telling something of a horror story, which he never did. After that, he patted me on the shoulder and then hugged me.—You get to sleepin’ now, ok? You got a long way ahead of you and lotsa books to read. — Dad said, his voice cracking a bit, almost as if he was about to cry. I hugged him back,
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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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