"The Abyss" - Scary Stories Told in the Dark

Malcolm Blackwood (0:00)

Good evening, and welcome to Scary Stories Told in the Dark. I'm Malcolm Blackwood. Tonight, we're returning to the early days of the show with a performance from the man who first welcomed listeners into the dark, Otis Gyrie. If this leaves you wanting more, explore the program's first 15 seasons, which Otis hosted and performed on his own. You'll find plenty of late night company waiting in the archives.

In tonight's tale, written by James Colton, three friends find themselves stranded on a lake after their boat's motor fails. With no phones and darkness settling over the water, they expect an uncomfortable wait until morning. But an old ghost story becomes harder to dismiss as the hours pass and something beneath their boat begins to make itself heard.

And now, without further ado, here's The Abyss, as performed by Otis Jiree.

Otis Gyrie (1:06)

Can't you feel it? asked Paul, his lipless mouth, spreading across his face in a thin smile. Beneath our feet lies the cold abyss, plummeting down for untold leagues. Can't you feel it yawning under you?

It was all too easy to answer yes. I didn't have to listen very closely to Paul's yarn to imagine it. Men dumped helplessly into the watery void as their boat was torn apart in a storm. Our own vessel seemed pitifully small as Paul spun his tail. Every ripple was engorged by my imagination until it felt like we were caught in a labyrinth swells of a typhoon.

A silly thing to imagine when you were only a few hundred feet off shore in one of upstate New York's Finger Lakes. Not one survived, concluded Paul, his voice a hoarse whisper that barely competed with the lapping of the waves against our hull. Drowned, every one of them, although some say that if you peer into the water, you can just see dark shapes moving around down there. Fish, you're probably thinking. Maybe you'd be right, except I've never seen a fish that looked quite like that. No one's ever been able to hook anything down there, either.

So where exactly did it happen? Ask Jim teasingly. And just so I can avoid looking if I'm ever in the area. Paul laughed, his gravelly voice echoed across the dark surface of the lake. Does it matter? I don't imagine there's a sizable body of water anywhere that hasn't seen at least one drowning. Even this one I'd wager.

All three of us, as though bidden by some unheard command, peered over the side of our boat. I couldn't see anything except the sparkling reflection of our lantern. Everything else was black. Look at us, chuckled Jim, spooked by an old man's ghost story. Oh, Paul, how's your chest feeling? The oldest member of our trio waved off Jim's concern with a wrinkled hand. That's done and gone. Haven't felt a thing since late this morning. I redirected my gaze toward where I imagined the shore to be. I knew there were a few houses in that direction, but whoever lived in them must have gone to sleep because I didn't see any lights. Surprised our wives haven't come looking for us yet. I commented. Yeah, side Jim, although I guess we did say we'd be a while. They probably think we just stopped somewhere on the way back. Paul flipped the ignition key as if by some miracle the passage of time had fixed everything. Still dead, still stuck.

It was late in the season. All the people who rendered lakeside cabins during the summer had already packed up and left, so we had most of the plays to ourselves. We figured an evening fishing trip was in order, although we never planned to stay out past dark. Our boat's motor had died around seven. I still can't believe none of us brought our phones, they said. We could have been out of this mess an hour ago.

No sense fretting over it now, consoled Paul. Worst case, we wait until morning when someone's bound to find us. It is right, agreed Jim, unless you want to swim to shore and get out. I shook my head and made myself comfortable. It would be a long night.

I woke to Jim shaking my shoulder. It was still dark. What time is it? I asked groggily. You've only been asleep for about 45 minutes, King's reply. Paul thought he saw another boat. He's trying to flag them down. Sure enough, as I became more aware of my surroundings, I noticed the light was shifting back and forth. Paul was standing near the bow, waving our lantern in the air. There was something surreal about it. Something was off, although I couldn't place it. I got to my feet and unsteadily made my way to the front of the boat. I followed Paul's squinting gaze to a point about fifty feet out. It was still too far away for the lantern to pick it out, but I thought I saw a bulky object slipping silently through the ripples. Have they seen us? I asked. I don't know, growled Paul. Don't see how they couldn't, but I tried calling out a moment ago and got no response.