Advertisement
Please wait...

Joondalup



Estimated reading time — 6 minutes

In the nineteen seventies, the city of Perth, Western Australia experienced an urban sprawl that made its suburbs clamber up and down the coast of the Indian Ocean. These suburbs, tenuously connected by fragile railways, like a spiderweb, was where I lived as a child. These novel infrastructure developments meant that I was isolated to only my hometown, unable to find a reliable way to roam.

For that reason, my friends and I would often spend a lot of time at the namesake of our suburb, Lake Joondalup. Our group was a bit of a motley, connected by our own tenuous thread – we all loved to explore the bush, which at that point had yet to be swept aside by the development. Now despite a wide circle of friends with similar interests, I only really felt close to a young boy called Tristan. He was a large child with a kind manner, and a jagged row of white teeth that contrasted sharply with his dark skin and soft features.

We both loved the night. We loved the late evenings where a new world opened up to us around the lake; we would continue to explore the tree-lined banks after most kids went home for dinner.

This day, we had been skipping stones across the lake, while discussing the short assignment our teacher had set. Tristan, being aboriginal, had been given the assignment of finding out the meaning of many of the words we had in our day to day life that came from the first Australians.

“So,” I said, tossing another rock into the lake. “What does ‘Joondalup’ mean?”

“I actually know that one,” Tristan had picked up a larger rock than usual, and he weighed it in his hand as he thought about the best way to articulate his answer. “It means ‘place of shining’ or ‘place of white’.”

“No way, that’s so lame,” I said with all the seriousness a fifth grader could muster.

“You’re lame!” Tristan ditched the rock at the water beside me, and some of it splashed on my new white socks.I charged at him, trying to avenge myself for the inevitable wrath of my mother. He turned and legged it, with surprising swiftness for such a large boy. We both ran through the bush, our chase taking us right along the edge of the lake.

The next thing I knew, Tristan, maybe three or four paces in front of me, tripped. I saw him stumble, his ankle twisting in an odd fashion, before he keeled over and plunged straight into the dark water of the lake. The banks were a sharp, two foot drop into water, that was deep enough to submerge him entirely.

He surfaced “Christ!” He squealed, as I kneeled on the bank to try to help him out. “It’s so cold.” I didn’t respond. Behind him, was a white shape, blurry in the dark water but rapidly sharpening like an inverse silhouette.

“Yeah let’s go.” I reached out to help him when suddenly, the shape seemed to unfurl, wrapping itself around Tristan and dragging him downwards. My heart began to jackhammer against my ribs, causing the blood to pound in my head. Tristan surfaced, and flailed. I didn’t hesitate, grabbing the back of his shirt collar and pulling him upwards, as a pair of milk white arms, each finger tipped with gleaming claws, snatched at him from the lake.

He was hurt bad, his ankle was swelling and already mottled with bruising. I tried to drag him, carry him, but he was far too heavy. We stumbled along the rocky path, my legs nearly buckling as Tristan leaned on me. It wasn’t far to the break in the trees and the road beyond, but we barely got twenty feet from the lake before I looked back.

Darkened against the reflected moonlight, I saw the creature standing on the banks. Its form is etched like a carving on the inside of my skull. It had a human body, with broad, masculine shoulders and a long neck, like that of a deer, except it stopped abruptly, like it had its head severed at the base of the skull.

Advertisements

That was not the worst part of it though. The best way I can describe its legs were how one would expect a child to stack Lego blocks. They were many jointed, from the ankle upwards they stacked on top of one another, but not quite matching up, giving the impression of a jagged zigzag. I began to whimper and Tristan stopped to look behind him. I felt his grip on me slacken, and he also made a soft noise, I knew the noise, it was when your body was seizing up from the inside out, the nerves firing rapidly as your body began to employ its emergency response to fly.

“Let’s go let’s go,” our pace quickened. Behind us, I could hear the rustling of undergrowth and the light step of a pursuant. We fumbled faster. Tristan’s face was red and puffy, and the roaring in my ears had reached a deafening crescendo. We dared not to look back, our eyes fixed ahead, on the murky light of the streetlights.

Tristan jerked, and was lifted out of my grip. I tried to hold on to him, but I found myself shaken off, like a dog shaking its prey. I flew through the air, crashing into a tree and slumping into the undergrowth. My vision filled with stars, turning into flashes and eventual darkness as Tristan’s terrified screams faded away into unconsciousness.

When I came to, it was silent. I sat up, my breath ragged. It was well into the night, and a chill had descended onto the bush, meaning it was in the early AMs. I tried to stand up, but the world lurched, and turned on its side as a flash of pain threw me onto the ground again. I struggled to get up but, through it I began to feel unsettled.

I could hear footsteps. Seconds apart, like something was taking a step and waiting. I lay down again, peering through the leaves. It was itchy, and sticky down there, but I felt deep in my stomach that what was out there did not have any good intentions toward me. It took a few minutes to appear on the path, but there it was. That thing again. It turned out, that it was not waiting, but its legs were lengthening, allowing it to take huge strides. Now I realised, it was stepping backwards. Yes, I could make out its shoulder blades and the jagged line of its spine as it walked up the path. Its neck was swaying, as if it was looking around behind it.

As it drew level, I had to bite down on my tongue to stop me from crying out. It was carrying Tristan’s limp body in its arms, his dead weight barely seemed to register as the creature cradled him like a baby. It drew level as I was processing the sight of my friend, and I saw that at the end of that neck, where I had not identified a head, was a face. A flat. Human. Face.

Advertisements

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the creature to go away. It walked up and down the path, and even through the bush. It passed within feet of me. I could hear the sound of its joints popping as it moved. Its shadow blotted out the moonlight periodically, but it never found me.

They found me just after sunup. I was still curled at the base of an ancient white gum, sobbing silently. They nearly missed me, as I was obscured by a thicket of some spiny shrub, but there I was, clutching my knees to my chest and whimpering softly. They did not find Tristan, but they found clumps of his hair, and scraps of clothing on the undergrowth, at about an adult’s shoulder height, like he had been carried.

I gave a statement to the police, and was given therapy. About a week later, a strange whitish scum floated to the surface of the lake, collecting at the banks and coating the water in a horrible film. This scum was found to be human fat, that proved a DNA match to the kidnapping victim, Tristan Cole.

The memory faded from my mind. The disappearance was chalked up to a suspected homicide. The vibrant memory became a distant shape, backlit by the moon and reflection off water. Sometimes my fear would rear its ugly head when I drove past the solid wall of trees that made up the edge of the lake reserve, but it was nothing more than a traumatic event folded away into a corner of my mind.

That was, until last week, when the thought of the creature was refreshed, given a new coat of fear-induced detail. Running in the local paper, the Weekender, was an article on new findings in the etymology of the word “Joondalup”. New research suggested that Joondalup meant “place of the creature that can only walk backwards.”

Credit To – MsGeophilia

Please wait...

Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on Creepypasta.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed under any circumstance.

26 thoughts on “Joondalup”

  1. Very tasty pasta. The Joondalup’s description was unsettling and just vague enough to work well (Though I have to admit, as soon as you mentioned the deer-like neck I pictured the deer from Adventure Time that takes over the Candy Kingdom in an extremely creepy way). My only issues with the story are:

    1) Tristan could have used some more description; He was basically just an Aboriginal kid who likes being outside and got a homework assignment semi-relevant to the plot. Since he’s the victim of the story, a little bit more development could really have tied it together.

    2) As someone else mentioned, the fact that the narrator just hides in the bushes to escape. I mean, this is a supernatural being we’re talking about here, so it’s just a little silly that it wouldn’t find a little kid who’s trespassed into its territory, especially since it grabbed Tristan in the same area.

    Overall though, good story, I would read more.

  2. RedbloodRedneck

    I liked it too. However, I am not sure that score is possible lol

    Addersmack:
    Awesome story. Is this true? It seemed like it was true. I would give this a 10000/10. You should write more stories.

  3. ooh did you do a retelling of an austrailian myth? that’s so cool. i love mythological beasties and ive never heard of this one before. 9/10

  4. Just wanna add that with regards to my above comments, i gave the story an 8. But if homoerotiscm were intended, i would have given higher. It would add depth to the main character n Tristan if the reader thinks they have a deeper relationship and also think about the monster’s agenda when choosing victims. I mean there must be a reason for the monster to be rarely seen right?

    1. While I did not have any intention of placing a homoerotic undertone in this story, I’m not really sure about all the hate either.

      If my story was engaging enough for someone to give some thought to additional meanings, they can go right ahead.

  5. This story is excellent and it’s even more terrifying because, I’m aboriginal and my family always told stories past down from ancestors of theirs of the creature that walks backwards, and joondalup actually means the place where the creature walks backwards!!! 10/10 kind sir

  6. I couldn’t find a THING wrong with this story. Excellent, well done, suspenseful, interesting, well and smartly written. This author is very good, and going places. KEEP WRITING, and please, KEEP SUBMITTING. We need more fantastic authors such as you. 9/10 (only because I’m extremely difficult to scare)

  7. Very creepy. Loved it. The description of this creature was refreshing. Although I do believe the humanoid monsters are the scariest, they have been getting very redundant on this site. However, you put a nice twist to this monster. Please write more!! 10/10

  8. This pasta grabbed me at the beginning with its wonderful introduction, but then, unfortunately, couldn’t hold me. I enjoyed the depiction of the creature, but the protagonist fending off and then hiding from the Joondalup seemed banal, as if the scene was pulled from a cheap horror movie script that installed the easiest scenario available to film. The ending was good, and somewhat redeemed the central portion of the plot.

    A great beginning, an adequate ending, but I feel the body could have used more substance and flair.

  9. Oh god… Human fat… that’s an image I could have lived without violating my brain… you get nine stars for that good sir…

  10. Scrotie McDickenass

    Wailito:
    And yeah i thought the “strange whitish scum” was something else until u specified it was human fat. Still, a good story about the creature that only walks “backwards”. Wink wink.

    Why all the down votes? I thought it was a poignant observation. Perhaps a bit of latent homosexual thoughts on behalf of the author or even more likely the person who made the comment? And just so you know its okay to call something homoerotic. That doesn’t make you homophobic. btw I don’t find the story homoerotic at all

    1. Yup, thanks man i was surprised by the negative reception. I did not mean that the story was no good. Homoerotiscm in literature isn’t something everyone could pull off even if they tried. I thought i might have a case with description like “I was wet and sticky down there.” I was just curious so calm your tits guys.

  11. I think, Wailito, that you were just thinking wrong when you read this. Cuz all of that stuff (other than the monster, who btw didn’t appear phallic in my mind at all) were regular every day descriptions. I would be hard pressed, even being the perv I am, to find anything perverse about this story. My opinion, 6/10. Was ok, but fell kinda flat to me. Just my opinion.

    1. ThisIsANameForAComment

      Moonshade, don’t think about it too much, but, Walito’s perv level is so far beyond yours, you can’t even begin to comprehend.

  12. And yeah i thought the “strange whitish scum” was something else until u specified it was human fat. Still, a good story about the creature that only walks “backwards”. Wink wink.

  13. Is the story supposed to be slightly homoerotic? I mean for example the kids exploring the “bush”, the main character chasing Tristan ard, teasing that each other is “lame”, n also that part where Tristan “jerked away from his “grip”. The monster even had a phallic symbol growing out of his shoulders. Just asking.

  14. Reggie McJankovich

    This story was great, and creepy at that. Though, it should be since it was posted on the site. I thoroughly enjoyed it, and hope to see more from you. (P.S. 10/10)

  15. Wow this type of monster really creeped me out. Not so much from coming from the water, but walking backwards / jagged legs / broken neck / etc. Great job!

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Scroll to Top