Real quick before we get started today. We just wanted to take time to gush about our new favorite podcast.
Anyone that knows Goodpoint knows we love alien UFO lore. And right now, there is a show called Sightings that's covering these stories in a super engaging and creative way. But Sightings doesn't just recount what happened. It puts you... center of the action with its heart-pounding storytelling it puts you in the story have you ever seen a fleeting shadow in the corner of your vision or heard a whisper on the wind that seemed just a little too clear then i have
the podcast for you. Sightings is a new series that invites you inside the world's most mysterious unexplained events from epic encounters with legendary creatures to spying heard before sightings is a new series
From legendary encounters like Bigfoot and Roswell to the secrets of Skinwalker Ranch, Sightings is your passport to the extraordinary. Each episode combines a never-before-heard story of an infamous super... will leave listeners questioning what's real and what's impossible new episodes every week look for it now on apple podcasts spotify or wherever you get your podcasts And now, today's episode of Someone Just Like You.
Alvina! Pick up! I have exciting news! We are faking a death. Wait for it. A mysterious lighthouse keeper with a dark secret! And the only way to get there is by ship! The Amelia Project is an agency that fakes its clients' deaths and lets them reappear with a new identity. Or rather, it's a fiction podcast about such an agency. But this May, we're bringing the Amelia project to the stage. Or rather,
is a cargo barge that has been turned into a floating theatre. And we've written a new story especially for this unusual venue. Come join us at Theatre Ship in London on the 31st of May, 2025. no previous knowledge of the podcast is necessary. If you enjoy comedy, mystery and immersive storytelling, this is for you. Go to ameliapodcast.com and click on the Amelia Project live at Theatreship for tickets. We look forward to welcoming you aboard.
Cargo ship, Alvina. Bye tomorrow. We're all going on a field trip. Someone Just Like You is a horror series. Thank you. My fingers bend backward and beg me, please, let us write a story for them. Just peel back their skin to reveal the horror lurking beneath. Pain that feels all too familiar. Torment that hits too close to home. This isn't an alternate dimension. This isn't a liminal realm or a divergent timeline. are here and now. This could happen to someone just like you. Okay, so...
Hear me out. One night, a few weeks back, coming home late from a rehearsal, I was waiting alone at one end of the Bathurst subway platform. looking down into the space between the rails for interesting junk. It passes the time. I know you're not supposed to go that close, but sometimes I'll see. He's like a little black subway mouse, and I can root for him while he dashes around looking for if it's a hot dog bun and pizza crusts. I didn't see any mice that time.
But down at the end, right where the tunnel kind of goes black, I... Just beyond that sharp division line where the light hits the shadow. I thought I saw what looked like the tail of a snake. A pretty damn big snake at that. the train was coming. So I stepped back from the edge of the platform. And then by the time I was halfway home, I was too busy eavesdropping on conversations about the latest celebrity death.
and I'd forgotten all about what I'd seen. I didn't think about it again at all until this past week. I was out for dinner with my buddy Jeff and his dad. Now, his dad works for the TTC. That's the Toronto Transit Commission. And he's worked down in the tunnels a bunch of times. It's part of the job. He was telling us some of his horror stories. there's barely enough room to push yourself back against the wall while the train goes by.
how easy it is to get turned around and lose your bearings and just get lost down there. And of course there's the rats. You two have seen those little mice but the rats are five times that size and a lot more interested in biting. Don't they help keep the rats under control? Why are you asking about snakes? There aren't any snakes. He looked around, but no one was paying any attention to us. What there are... are eels. Now... Hand me that bill. I got this.
Back at their place, with a few more steam whistles in them. I convinced him to continue that story. He sat down in this worn-out old recliner, one of those chairs that never quite comes back up again. But he leaned forward as he spoke. It's not that big a secret, but we're not really encouraged to tell anyone either. Hard as it may be to believe, there's eels down in the tunnels. I've been for over 30 years now. since opened up the tunnels further north up Yong Street.
Might have been earlier than that. But they broke through to underground streams a bunch of times in that dig. And sometimes that water and mud sat for more than a year before they started pumping it all out to lay track. Turns out that eels can travel on land, you know. As long as they stay wet enough. And even the Finnish tunnels are a swamp with mud. There's pools of water where it trickles down from above, and there are storm drains.
It's not impossible to imagine a few determined creatures finding a way to survive between one station and the next. Hell, they thrive down there. After we found out about them, and Willie Frazier died in 82, they brought a scientist down and said they were the biggest thing he'd seen outside of saltwater. They eat the other living things down there. Mice, stray cats, pigeons. And of course, it's impossible to get them out. All we can do is wear thick boots and be careful where we walk.
My head was spinning, and... Not just from a few too many too fast. Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait a minute. Some guy died? You're telling me there are eels in the subway and they killed somebody? Are you sure this isn't a movie you saw back in the 80s or something? He shook his head, a tuft of white hair flopping back and forth. You better believe they killed him. I wouldn't make up the death of one of my buddies. He nodded at his son. Jeff knows Willie's girl.
It was getting towards dusk, but nobody moved to turn a light on. I tried to focus on the dim outline against the window. He's... Sorry, he's pulling my leg, right, Jeff? Jeff shook his head. He sounds pretty serious to me. Across from me, another beer bottle clinked on the coffee table. It'd make a better story if I could tell you I was the one who found them. I'm only telling you true things here.
I did see the long stripes of red across his face and hands, like he'd gotten a really bad rope burn or been dragged somewhere. And I was one of those who carried him out. Still twitching and moaning, he didn't make it through the night. We didn't know for sure what did it. Nobody saw anything. But they heard some sort of animal hissing and sliding away in the shadows.
Management, they tried to say Willie fell across the tracks, got burnt, and had a heart attack or some bullshit. They never wanted to believe us about what went down in the tunnels. But one of the new kids on my crew had a big brother, a biologist at U of T. He was the one who figured out from the markings that it had to be a giant eel. Management didn't listen to him either.
But we decided to take things on ourselves. The room was almost pitch black by the time it was done. So we turned on the lamp beside the couch. Before that point, I think I still thought he was telling me a tall tale. And then I saw how pale his face was. how his hands were shaking and cleared his throat. We went fishing for them late at night when the only trains running were at the other end of the line. Four of us stayed late to do it.
I told the bosses we were changing light bulbs so we'd get paid for the overtime. We have some flat cars we use for power washing and such. We hooked one of those up and trolled over the sides and longed the back. Like it was a day at the lake. Except that we were baiting airline cable with chunks of ribeye. and we had no idea what we might hook with it. Most of the guys weren't quite on board with the eel story. That is, until we caught one. He lowered his voice.
I had to lean forward just to hear him. I'm not ashamed to say they scared the piss out of me when one finally took the bait. We didn't half know what to do once we had him on the hook, twisting and turning like a cowboy's lasso. Teeth long as my pinky finger, dripping with the slime down there. And of course, none of us had a net or a gaff or anything. So we had to drag the damn thing until it tired and then hit it in the head with a hammer. The first time.
It took an hour before it laid still and died. And then, just as we were catching our breath, the second one lunged out of the muck and grabbed the tail end of the corpse. Food is food down there, even if it's their kind. We had to wrestle a corpse away, and by then we were getting pretty spooked. We had the driver take off fast as he could and didn't slow down for a good three or four stations.
When we measured the damn thing later, it was almost seven feet long, as big a round as my thigh. It was then that Jeff got up to get us another round, and we all stopped. And as we were sitting there, just quiet. I tried to picture it. It was hard not to picture some cheesy direct-to-video movie monster. Badly CGI'd over the background.
roaring like a lion as it lunged towards our stalwart group of transit worker heroes, standing between it and the sleeping city above. I couldn't even imagine what it'd be like in real life to find yourself in that position. setting down the beers on the coffee table. Jeff got to the question before I could. How did you ever go back down there again? The old man shook his head. I didn't want to. None of us did.
But we were family men. We all had tables to put food on. Even after we had proof, nobody was willing to do anything about it. Nobody but us. At least after that first time, we knew what we were after. Sometimes that made it easier to go down. Of course, some nights it made it harder, too. For about a year after that, we'd go out a couple nights a month and fish for them.
Sometimes there'd be nothing, but often enough, it'd be a fight again. We'd all need a few drinks before we went home in the morning. He held up his right hand, and in the lamplight... I could see a faint halo of scars around the base of his thumb. I got marked up a little. Some guys got worse. But we tried to be careful. Nobody else ever died. After that, the story's kind of disappointing. There's no big final battle to the story. We never got them all. But we fought them to a draw.
and I think they look for someplace easier to live and feed. These days, there's maybe one or two sightings every six months. When we find them, they aren't anywhere near the size they used to be. In the end, the tunnels aren't such a great place to live your life. We drank for a little while longer after that. And then, around. 11.40, I stumbled out onto the sidewalk and down the street towards the subway station. I'm not too proud to admit I thought about taking the bus instead, but I felt...
Foolish for having that thought. so I pushed myself through the turnstiles before I could think twice. Down on the platform level, I found myself standing back against the tiled wall surrounding the stairwell, instead of leaning over the edge and looking down as usual. I did crane my head to look into the tunnel. Back past where the light met the darkness. I couldn't even see a suggestion of movement. But I also couldn't make myself step forward. Not until the train had arrived.
and was filling the tracks safely from side to side. And when I sat down in the car, I had to fight the urge to lift my feet. Just in case there might be something lurking under the train. Lying. waiting for just the right moment. Subway Eels was written by DJ Silves. DJ is also the creator of Moonbase Theta Out and a new horror fantasy series waiting for October. If you enjoyed Subway Eels, be sure to check out the rest of DJ's work. from Kale Brown, Zane Schatt, and Jeremy Ellett.
The Fable and Folly Network, where fiction producers flourish. majestic crown of Ohio, for 200 years Mount Absalom has been a place to play. Now let's get out our math homework. A place to work. Here at the Soleri Bottling Works, we produce over 2,000 bottles of celery soda every day. A place to raise a family. It's a girl.
It's a place of history. And here we have the barrel of whiskey that Confederate soldiers stole from Mount Absalom Patriot Amelia Pleasance during Morgan's raid. And of course, a place. of celery. 201st Celery Festival, I dub thee, Open! Malkab's alarm is the perfect place for making memories. Memories with us. Make your memories here. In Absalom. Unwell, a Midwestern gothic mystery. Learn more at unwellpodcast.com