Many of you hearing this may be too young to remember the exploding whale incident that occurred in Oregon in the late fall of nineteen seventy. Heck, I'm fairly certain that quite a few of you weren't even born yet, so I give you the basic overview. On November ninth, nineteen seventy, a forty five foot long sperm whale washed ashore on the beach near Florence. For three days. It
sat there, drawing spectators local government officials alike. After the first day or so, people were warned to stay away from it. The official reasoning given was that there were concerns that certain onlookers might climb on top of the carcass and fall in. In addition to the putrid stench that overtook the entire beach and the threat of the body bursting in less than two days, the Oregon State
Highway Division was called in to dispose of it. They consulted with the Navy and many munitions experts and came to the conclusion that the best way to treat it would be like a boulder, and used dynamite to blow it up in on November twelfth, with local and state news watching, They did just that, using half a ton of TNT and creating one hell of an explosion which sent chunks of whale and sand over one hundred feet in the air, even crushing in the roof of a
nearby parked car. That's the official story, of course. It's all a load of hogwash, though, I know because I made the mistake of getting too close to it one night myself. Harvey was getting a little ahead of myself. Let me back it up. I was just a youngster back then, no more than eleven years old. I loved my folks in Florence, which back then was much smaller and, in my opinion, a much nicer place to live than
it is today. I was sitting in the case waiting for my mother to finish making me waffles and eggs before being taken to school, when my father entered, having just stepped away to receive a phone call. What do they want, Gordon, my mother asked, turning to face as causing her black and white checkered apron to swirl slightly on her waist with a spatula in her hand. My father grunted as he sat back down on the table. The understanding actually apparently a sperm whale managed to beach
itself out on the sand. They want me and a few others to go out to take a look at it, for it starts causing a nuisance. Dad worked for the local government, specifically the area of maintaining the beaches and parks for both locals and tourists alike. Can you take me over to see it, I asked excitedly. It had been years since a whale had washed ashore here, and I wanted to finally see what my father had spoken about dealing with once or twice before. He simply shook
his head. Pray not, kiddo, he said, tessling my hair with his hand is grown up business, a little too dangerous to have your own. He began to chow down on the eggs and bake, and my mother brought to him maybe next time. He finished speaking around bites of his food. I hung my head, feeling slightly dejected as I began to eat my waffles and eggs. When I got to school, many of the kids were talking excitedly about the whale. I heard. It's huge, black stinks to
high heaven. Christy, one of the girls who sat next to me, in mass class said to her friend in front of her eugh. Her friend retorted squnching up her nose and causing both girls to break into a fit of giggles, which was fast silenced by the teacher clearing his throat. Later, as I sat in the lunch room eating pizza squares and carrot sticks, my best friend Harvey came over and sat down along with the other two in our friend group. So what's your dad say about
the whale? Michae lassed, using the sleeve of his shirt to white pizza sauce from his face. I shrugged my shoulders. All he said was it washed ashore and it was too dangerous for me to go see it, I admitted. Harvey led it aloud belch after downing his chocolate milk, earning a huge laugh from our group and a stern look of disapproval from the lunch room monitor in the back. I heard, it's already attracted a huge flock of seagulls and crows around it, he said. After settling back. Gregory
chimed in, yeah, and it's covered in slime. We all looked at him and laughed. You really need to stop reading those dime store pulp novels from your parents bookshelves, man, I said, then leaned in close, all of us doing the same. I heard it has super sharp and bright white teeth, as my older cousin, Jana said, when she stopped by this morning. Her and her boyfriend had gone for a walk of the beach when they saw it. Gregory looked at him. Wait, what is your cousin doing
with her boyfriend out that early, he asked. Harvey made her face, Probably doing some of that gross romantic stuff, he said, with a tone of disgust. Each of us scrunched up our faces in a similar manner. That's not the point, he continued. The point is none of us has seen a beach whale before. He looked around at each of us, a small, sly smile beginning to etch
across his face. So what I'm thinking is, why don't we go down there after our parents go to bed and look at it, maybe even take some pictures with it. He pointed at me, Alan, didn't your dad just buy you that camera a few weeks ago? I nodded my head. I mean yeah, but I began, but he cut me off. Dud, Why don't we go make an adventure out of it. Go see it, he pressed, looking around hopefully at all of us. Michael spoke up, I can't do it tonight, Horve.
My parents are going out to dinner and leaving me with a babysitter. You know, I can't stink past Michelle if my life depended on it. Harvey letdard an annoyed snort. Fine, maybe not tonight, but what about tomorrow night, he asked. He looked at Gregory. Will you say, man, he asked him. Grigory sat a little lower in his seat, trying to make himself smaller. I don't know, man, he said quietly. If mom and dad catch me sneaking out that far, I'll get ground for life. This time, Harvey let out
a disgusted sound. You're such a little chicken shit, he spat. We all gasped the swear. Each of us had heard our respective fathers let out the occasional curse word around us. But after I'd made the mistake of shouting damn it when I stubbed my toe trying to fly up the back porch steps and was rewarded with a bar of soap in my mouth for it, none of us really ever said them again. Harvey, being a member of our group who liked to break the rules, clearly did not care.
He raised his hands and shook them in a mocking way at us. Ooh, he said, before lowering them down and looking at me. About you allan, he asked, you come with me tomorrow night. He leaned in and grinned, Or you too much of a scaredy cat to come with me? I felt my cheeks grew hot and glared at my friend. I'm not a scaredy cat, and you know it, I growled defensively at him. Who was the one who went into the abandoned house last year, I continued, And who was the one who climbed into the sewer
pipe after everyone else chickened out? It was me? I sat up straight, trying to sound as unaffected and tough as I could. Then come with me, Harvey said, looking at our other two friends, and show these two chickens how to become a man instead of staying little boys. His comment earned mutters and annoyed glances his way, but he was focused on me. He knew he had me, and so did I. He knew I hated being called scaredy or baby, and I would always take the bait
when he used that line, so darn gullible in retrospect. Finally, I looked him dead in the eye. Fine, I'll go with you, I said, yes, he said, grinning like he had just walked into the Woodworth and been told by his pair parents that he could choose whatever he wanted for lunch with a root beer float. So here's what we do, he said, lowering his voice to barely above a whisper. Meet me in back of your house in the alley at eleven tomorrow night. We'll bike across the
bridge and to the dunes where the whalers. So bring your camera and we'll get proof that we were there. I was about to answer him when the bell rang, signaling that lunch was over. He shot me a thumbs up as he stood up, dumped his leftovers in the trash, and returned his tray. Michael and Gregory patted me on the shoulder as they passed me by luck Man, they both said, leaving me to stare after them. I wonder
what on earth I just agreed to. I spent the entire rest of the afternoon until the end of school staring out the window, unable to concentrate on schoolwork. All I could focus on was what I was going to do with Harvey. To night, my mom picked me up at three. I barely said anything to her about how my day went. Instead, I just looked out the window over station wagon at the Seuslau River and the hulking
shape of the dunes on the other side. When my father got home that evening from dinner, I ran over to him as he sat in his recliner watching television. So what happened? I passed her him As he attempted to watch the news. He looked at me and gave me a tired smile. It's big, all right, he said, yawning slightly. It smells like four week old garbage and the dump. I'm not sure of how to get rid of it. And with that he patted me on the
head and went back to watching the screen. At dinner that evening, he spoke a little more about it to my mother when she asked about it. You know, it's strange, darling, he said, as he devoured the casserole that she had made. Normally this would be a local matter, but for some reason, called in the Highway division along with some big wigs
from the state coat post guard navel bases. It's stranger because I swear I saw one or two men studying like there's some kind of specimen and a beaker, he added, before being shushed by my mother and told to finish telling her once little ears code word for me, had gone to bed. As they lay in bed that evening, attempting to fall asleep and instead gazing around my room at the Clint Eastwood and Steve McQueen movie posters on
my wall. I thought about what he'd said. Why would such important people want to look at a dead whale? I thought, what could possibly be so special about it? I shrugged it off, then turned to face the wall as I felt the first tendrils of sleep begin to seep into me. The next day went by in a blur. The words of my teachers and friends echoed in my head and went straight in one ear and out the other, bouncing around in my brain like a beach ball, never sticking.
When my mom brought me home, I told her I was going to play in the back yard for a little while. Go upstairs and change your clothes. Then she called, as I took my books upstairs, I'll whoop, You're sorry behind if you get grass stains all over your nice new school clothes. I did as she said, changing into a pair of jeans and a T shirt, before discreetly grabbing my father's latest present to me, a brand new Kodak instamatic camera and a handful of flashcubes, and heading
out the back door. In our back yard sat an old, rusting Ford model tea which had belonged to my grandfather. My father always spoke about restoring it in his memory, but ever seemed to find the time to making sure my bike was leaning against the side of it where it couldn't be seen by my parents. I slipped into the cab, hid the camera and flashcubes beneath the seat, before stepping back out and throwing a baseball at our fence.
For a few hours after dinner time, I watched a movie being shown on TV with my father in the living room I believe it was twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, and then kissed both of them good night. Went to bed, pretending to fall asleep. I listened and at a round ten heard them climb the stairs and
set the door to their bedroom. I waited another twenty minutes to make sure they were asleep, then threw back the covers, revealing I still had on jeans, sneakers and a shirt, grabbed my coat off the hook behind the door, and crept down stairs, careful not to accidentally cause the floorboards on the stairs to creak. I slipped out the back door, turning up my collar at the chilly fall night air, and breathed in deeply. I whispered at the smell of the ocean wafting over the dunes into town.
Then I crept across the backyard to the darkened shape of the truck. Reaching through the open window, I retrieved the camera and flashcubes with a flashlight that I had swiped from under the kitchen sink, grabbed my bicycle and wheeled it out into the alley where Harvey was waiting. Well did you bring the camera, he whispered, and I held it up where it could be seen in the yellow street light over our heads. He nodded, then pressed a finger to his lips and signaled for me to
follow him, hopping onto his bike and pedaling away. I hopped on my own, and, after flicking on the handlebar, mounted light to guide my way paddled after him. The town seemed extremely eerie at night, with all the stores closed and the houses dark. Felt like biking through a ghost town or a nightmare, I thought, before shaking my head. The last thing I wanted to do was scare myself in the turning around, Harvey would never let me live
it down. We passed through intersection after intersection, always keeping an eye out for other people, and at one point we ducked behind a fence as a place. At last, car came slowly lumbering down the road, waiting for it to pass before continuing on. Soon enough, we passed over the bridge leading out of town and towards the dunes, the air growing colder and the smell of salt water
growing thicker as we approached our destination. Finally, we came to a point where we couldn't bike any further due to the sand catching our tires, and chose instead to hide our bikes amongst the far side of the first dunes, turning on both our flashlights as we let the yellow beams guide our way as we walked to the beach. So what do you think is going to look like? He asked, his voice filled with obvious excitement and glee. I shrugged my shoulders before realizing he couldn't see it
in the dark. I don't know, it's been a day or two. That always told me the birds start eating it by now, so I think it'll have like a lot of holes in it. He let out a low whistle. Cool, he said, I wonder if I could stick my hand in. I groaned, don't do that, Harvey, You'll never get the smell off you. Then your folks will know we've been out here. He scoffed, like I give a damn, he muttered, and I shook my head simply. After another five minutes,
we both stopped. What's that smell, Harvey exclaimed, covering his nose and mouth with his hand. And I guess we're close, I said, through my own hand. Man, it stinks, he said, then continued leading away. I started following him when I accidentally walked into his back, nearly crashing to the sand. I raised my light to shine on the back of his head. What's the deal, he hissed, as my face throbbed with pain, but he shushed me, turning around and
lowering my light. There's someone there, he hissed, back, kill your light. We both clicked ours off and listened. He was right. I could hear hushed voices coming from up the beach in the direction that we were heading sh I heard Harvey whisper, and then saw him crouch forward. For a moment, I thought about just turning around and leaving, and I didn't want to get into trouble, not when Mom and Dad are going to take me to Disneyland
for Christmas vacation in a few weeks. But I couldn't just leave Harvey there by himself, so I reluctantly followed him. Then I reached him. I stared out at what he was looking at over the dune. We could see the dark shape of the ocean from here, it's at less than a few hundred yards from where we lay on our stomachs. He also finally saw the whale. It lay on its side, about ten feet from the water's edge.
Its shape hulking and gigantic, white lined ridges spread out the top of its back, while the rest of its shape was nothing but smooth blackness. It was easy to tell these features because currently there was a light on it, a bright one behind it. I could see two or three figures standing and talking amongst themselves. Then they began to walk towards us down I whispered. Then Harvey and I made ourselves as small as possible behind the dune.
The sound of footsteps digging in and kicking up sand approached, and I heard a snippet of the conversation as it passed by me. It's incredible, I heard a man say, two days out of the water, still maintaining vital signs. Combine this with the alterations, I think we discovered a whole new species, one far more predatory and dangerous than we've ever seen before. We got to get on the horn and get this information out. They drew further away,
and their conversation dimmed and grew intangible again. The two of us stood up. What were they talking about, I asked, gazing towards the darkness where they'd gone. Who cares, Harvey said, shaking the sand off his coat and pants, I mean we have a chance to get the pictures. Come on, and with that he began running down the last done to the giant dark form on the sand. I followed slower, though something about the way that the man had spoken had made me feel a twinge of uneasiness. Still, I
plodded behind my friend towards the shape. As I drew closer, it rose higher and higher above my head, until it seemed to tower over me like one of the buildings I saw my parents took me to Portland. Harvey drew closer to the side of the creature. The smell was overpowering now, and I forced myself to breathe through my mouth to keep from gagging. He reached out towards it, Harvey, don't, I whispered urgently. Nothing's gonna happen, Alan, he said, putt
in a mocking tone as he said, my name. It's dead after all, remember, And before I could say more, he placed his hand on it. Immediately he drew it back, his face a look of disgust. Ew he exclaimed what I asked, afraid of what he'd say. It's slimy and cold, he said, then chuckled. I don't believe it, Gregory. He was right. He chuckled again, and then a wave for me to follow him around the other side. Before I stepped after him, I noticed something odd. The birds had
barely touched it. I followed after him slowly, and as I drew closer I heard him gasp, Holy shit, Alan, come look at this, walking quickly around to the edge and saw what he'd seen. The whale's mouth was huge. It yawned before us like the opening of a cave, its teeth looking like the stalagtites and stalagmites at the entrance. He was wide enough that we could easily have walked inside. Wow, I breathed, staring into the blackness beyond. No joke, Harvey said, excitedly.
Looks exactly like the whale from Moby Dick. He ran away from me down to the other end, and the tail is huge, so as white as a car, he called. I heard him run back towards me, and he reappeared in the light behind us. You got to take a picture of me in front of the mouth, Alan, he exclaimed. That'd be the ultimate picture to have. All the kids
at school would think I'm the coolest kid there. I glanced around, looking to make sure the men weren't coming back, and pulled my camera in a flashball out of my coat pocket. All right, but just a few pictures and then we get out of here before they come back. I hooked a thumb back towards to where they'd gone, yeah, yeah, whatever, it's fine. Just take the picture, he insisted, moving to
stand towards the edge of the mouth. I looked down and pushed the flashcube into the slot on the top of the camera, then moved away about ten feet to make sure I got as much of the whale in the shot as well as him. Because I raised the viewfinder to my eye, a strange feeling came over me. It was almost the same feeling I had when I would turn to find my parents watching me out the window of the house, the feeling of being watched. But when I looked away from the camera, I saw nothing.
No body, What are you waiting for? Harvey hissed, Take the damn picture. Shaking my head, I again raised the camera, senter the viewfinder on him, and pressed down on the shutter button. The area first split second lit up even brighter by the flash of the cube and the burning smell that would come with it. To follow, take another, he insisted, bending his arm up the way bodybuilders did and striking a pose. I did as he said, but as I pressed the shutter button, something above him caught
my head. High over both our heads, I could just barely see the edge of one of the whale's eyes. It was just a tiny glimpse, but something about it seemed seemed off. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness again, Harvey picked up a piece of drift wood from the sand and held it out like it was a spear. He was about to throw one more, he said, chuckling
as he attempted to look like Captain Ahab. I sighed, still feeling like I was being watched, but obediently raised the camera to my eye and sent it on my friend. That's why I noticed it, a flicker of motion from where I had seen the edge of the eye. I hesitated, staring at the screen till the viewfinder, noting that there was more white than there should have been. But did the eye move? I lowered the camera. Uh uh, Harvey, I said, tentatively, you might want to get over here.
He looked at me, annoyed. I will, he said, raising the driftwood again, after you take the damn picture. I was about to speak again when I heard shouting coming from off to the side. Frantic it out of breath, I turned and I saw the three men who had passed his by sprinting towards us, arms waving over their heads like they were trying to signal an overhead an airplane. For a second I couldn't make out what they were saying, and it became clear, get away from it, for the love
of God, get away from it. Came a man's cries, Harvey, we gotta go, I shouted, no longer trying to be discreet. I turned and saw him drop the piece of driftwood, a panic look covering his face. What happened next happened in a fraction of a second. One moment he was there, beginning to run towards me. The next something flashed out from inside the whale's mouth as quick as a lightning bolt. I didn't get a good look at it, but from
the little idea, it looked like the tongue. But what I ever seen before, it looked like it split apart in three places, and is the Oh. The surface of it was covered in small, sharp hooks, and in that instant they wrapped around Harvey with the fluidity of a boa constrictor, and then he was gone. He yanked back into the mouth and down its throat. He never even had time to cry out. That's when the men reached me.
One grabbed me around the waist and threw me as far as they could, back towards the lights they had set up. I fell hard at my side, the air driven from my lungs. When I stared up, I felt the color drained from my face. The whale was moving. It was thrashing about on the sand, and a frenzied attempt to reach its next meal, and had found it. The man who had thrown me had been snagged in the clutches of its tongue, and with the same speed that it had taken my friend yanked him back into
its gullet. He, however, had managed to let out the beginnings of a scream. It was choked off as he disappeared inside. I scrambled to my feet, unable to keep myself from crying. It'snot running down my nose, run kid. One of the remaining two men shouted at me, waving at me with his arms. I took a last look at the thrashing creature on the sand and saw it's eye diamond patterned. I filled with a mix of colors
from black to red. The color focused and locked onto me, and I felt my pants damp, and as I pissed myself in fear. Screaming, I turned and took the man's advice, running for my life back towards where my bike lay hidden. I barely remember getting home that night, the frantic pedaling back in the town and home as long was dropping my bike in my backyard, and getting back into the house after a blur. All I know is the next thing I remember was my mother shaking me awake, Alan, Honey,
I need you to focus and tell me something. She said, Seriously, have you seen Harvey since school yesterday? I didn't know what to say to her. I couldn't bring myself to say anything, so instead I simply shook my head. She looked at me for a second, then nodded and went back downstairs, telling me it was time to get ready to go to school. As I got out of bed, I realized I dropped my camera when I ran. The entire rest of the day, my mind couldn't focus on
anything but the memories of the previous night. My parents and teachers all noticed it, but they chocked it up to worrying about my missing friend. When Michael and Gregor reapproached me in the cafeteria, I said nothing When they asked what happened if he'd gone out there. I just told numb. I kept be playing over and over in my head that image, image of my friend being snacked, being swallowed whole. It's a sight that I'd see for years in my dreams, waking me up wearing a sheen
of cold sweat on my skin. When I got home that day, my father was looking at me strangely and also disapprovingly. Alan. When I went out to work today, I was approached by one of the men working with the Highway Division. He said sternly. He said he found this lying in the sand out there. He held something out to me, but I felt my heart begin to raise as he held out my camera, my camera which had my name written on the back. He continued, What have I told you about taking care of your valuables,
young man? This camera isn't cheap, and you can't just leave it wherever when you go out to the beach like we did last weekend. I looked up at him in surprise. He handed me the camera. Just be lucky it was returned to you. Don't ever pulled us again, Do you understand me? I could do nothing, but not in my head, lowering it so he couldn't see my pale face. He turned and walked away from me, and I waited until he was in the kitchen before reaching and opening up the back of the camera. Inside it
was empty. The film cartridge had been taken from it, and obviously by someone who didn't want anything coming back to me. I never heard from those men again. They must have deemed me as not a threat, someone who wouldn't speak about what I saw that night, so they just left me alone with my returned empty camera as a message enough. A day or so later, I sat in the living room carpet with my father behind me
and his recliner. We both watched the news reporter interviewing members of the Highway Division as well as members of the public who had been kept a quarter mile away from the black shape rising from the sand and waves. I couldn't help but shudder at the sight of it, my eyes filling with tears from my lost friend. A few moments later, everyone pulled back that the explosives were detonated,
sending huge chunks of it into the air. The reporter ended the segment, interviewing spectators again and telling viewers that the remaining chunks would be buried in the sand. I got up and walked out of the living room. They hadn't blown it up for the reason they'd said, never blow up any whale that beached itself ashore again, not even when over forty beached themselves at once nine years later. They blew it up because it was the only way
to destroy that monster. He never found a trace of Harvey. His parents spent a year trying to locate him. His face ended up on posters in the back of milk cartons. Any they'd never find him. Any trace of him was obliterated when the explosion went off. I'm sixty four now. A few years ago they aired a fifty year anniversary segment about the whale, whatever the whale looking creature was, and it made me remember all the repressed memories trying to lock away in the deepest recesses of my mind.
I tried to forget again. I can't, so I've decided, for the betterment of my mental health, as well as possibly a way to soothe the scars of my soul, to just post this here. I know nobody will believe it, but that's okay. The truth is out there now. Harvey's true fate is out there, though his parents are now long dead. Two things keep picking away my brain, though even in my advanced age, I shudder to imagine if it was that dangerous speached on land, what would it
be like to meet under the waves? Two? And this is perhaps what's kept me out of the ocean for all these decades. How many more of those things are out there? Whither? Kids? It's me, mister Creepasta, And I just wanted to tell you thank you so much for watching tonight's video or for listening to tonight's episode of
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