Have any of you heard of the Thames River Monster?
Back in the spring of 2016, a video found its way onto YouTube that was filmed in the London borough of Greenwich. It showed what appears to be some kind of creature briefly surfacing and swimming around near the 02 Arena, before sinking back beneath the murky surface. The video, which last I looked at it garnered over half a million views and hundreds of comments, sent an uproar around the internet. It was picked up by publications as big as Time, and people all over the UK, and indeed, the world, began to speculate what it was. Some thought it might have been a whale which had ventured upriver from the ocean, while others speculated that it might be the famed Loch Ness Monster, taking a vacation from its home in Scotland.
More recently, a new picture emerged last year, taken by a man walking on the banks of the river. It shows what appears to be the head of the creature sticking part of its head out of the water, staring at the viewer with one red eye. Just like with the video, many decried the photo as nothing more than a hoax, or simply a picture of a rock or piece of wood that people blew out of proportion. However, when I look at that picture now, I can’t help but shiver uncontrollably.
Because as much as I wish I didn’t…I know it’s real.
You see, I live in the medium-sized market town of Maidenhead, roughly about 30 miles to the west of London. I’ve lived here for the past twelve years, after being transferred to the London office of my company from Los Angeles. After living for so long in the city, I wasn’t in the mood to live in another. So, I moved here, close enough that I can commute to work each day, but far enough from the hustle and bustle that I could breathe. Many people have told me that the town’s a shell of its former self, and while I admit they may be right, it’s still quiet enough for me. Compared to what I used to have to deal with in L.A., nothing much really ever happens here.
At least, it used to.
It began roughly six or seven years ago. People began to complain about their pets going missing. In small numbers at first, then at increasing intervals. I’m friends with one of the local constables, and over drinks one night in the pub, I found out about the rash of “Houdini-ed Pets”, as he referred to them. “It’s the bloody oddest thing, though”, he said between deep pulls on his whiskey, “Nowhere else in town is having their animals vanish without a trace. Only in and around the riverfront” When I questioned him as to why I hadn’t seen anything written about the rash of disappearances in the Maidenhead Advertiser, I was honestly a little shocked by what he said next. “The department is set on keeping a lid on things. Until we know what’s happening, at least. Last thing we need to do is set the entire town in a panic”
At the time, I simply took what he said as fact. I may not agree with it, but if it’s what the police think is best, who am I to argue? In retrospect, however, I wish I’d pressed a little more. Or just flat out leaked what I’d been told.
For the next few years, pets continued to vanish into thin air, though the rate slowed far down. Whether that was because they were being taken less or people simply didn’t allow them near the water as much, though, I honestly don’t know. The next big shoe to drop for me happened in 2019 as I was out jogging along the river on one of my days off. When the weather permitted, I often liked to jog back and forth between Maidenhead and Bourne End. The four-and-a-half mile exercise would take me along foot paths which ran next to the Thames, allowing me some very peaceful views of the water and boats going by. Surprisingly, though, not many people were out on the path with me, something I simply chocked up to it being a weekday. However, as I entered a stretch of path that crossed someone’s field, I was a bit surprised to see what looked like two or three officers standing with who I could only assume was the landowner. I didn’t slow my workout, though, only assuming that they had to have been called due to trouble-making teenagers or something. Wouldn’t be the first time around here, with how bored they tend to get.
My assumption died as I moved past them though, catching a brief snippet of their conversation. “I understand what you’re tellin’ me, constable”, the man was saying, “But you explain to me how a bleedin’ cow, something that is perfectly capable of swimming, could have just ran into the river and drowned! What, did it decide it was tired of livin’ and took itself out?” The words caused me to slow my pace to a walk, and my mind began to race as I caught my breath. The missing pets flashed in my mind for the first time in months. This couldn’t be connected to them…could they? I began to shake the thought away. There’s no way it could, I thought. It’s not even the same town, anyways. But as I began to relax, the rising sound of the man’s agitated yells drifted over to me. “What do you mean, I have to keep quiet about this?! I’ve lost one of my damn cows, and all you’re worried about is how other people will react to it?”
His words made me stop dead in my tracks, and I feigned kneeling down to tie my shoe, stealing a quick glance over my shoulder. The three men had begun moving off, their words again becoming inaudible, though I could still hear the landowner’s agitated tone. I stood up, feeling equal parts perplexed and uncertain. So it IS connected? But…dogs and cats are one thing. Who or what could take an entire cow? As I stared at the retreating backs of the three, a feeling washed over me like a wave, causing a large shiver to shoot up my spine. I stiffened like a board as I recognized the sensation.
It was the feeling of being watched.
Slowly I turned to look around. The walking path was empty in both directions that I could see, and staring across the river, I saw no one standing on the opposite bank. A second shiver passed through me, and for reasons I couldn’t understand at the time, I began to feel extremely vulnerable out in the open. Alone. Finally, my eyes drifted down to the river itself, its murky waters concealing whatever lay beneath them. A third shiver made me begin moving again, slow at first, then increasing until I was rapidly jogging away from the spot. All the while the feeling of being intensely watched remained. It only disappeared when I got about a half mile away.
To this day, I’ve never forgotten how eerie the sensation of being looked at by something I couldn’t see was. Eerie, and, honestly…fear inducing.
The realization that whatever was happening, was occurring not just in town, but farther out made me begin to dig a little. The police were truly doing a tremendous job at suppressing any stories from getting out; even going to the local library and digging back through newspaper articles from years ago, I found not even a single mention of any pet vanishing. However, when I accidentally opened a book containing historical newspaper clippings while digging, I did find two articles which made something uncoil itself inside of me. The two clippings were from well over half a century ago; the first from 1947, the second from 1954. I would’ve slammed shut the book had it not been for the large, bold headlines that caught my eye. FOUR PEOPLE UNACCOUNTED FOR AFTER FLOOD WATERS RECEDE, proclaimed the 1947 clipping. TWO CHILDREN REPORTED MISSING DURING FLOODING, said the one from ’54.
I sat straight up in my seat, unable to keep from shivering slightly as I tried to brush away the dots my mind was connecting. Get a grip, Marshall. Just because people disappeared long ago during flooding does NOT mean that it has anything to do with the pets and that cow going missing. Remember what your old college professor always hounded you about: Correlation does NOT equal causation. I closed the book and placed it back on the shelf, beginning to head for the exit. Besides, I thought, it’s only animals that have gone missing. Not people.
Little did I know what was coming next.
I attempted to push the entire ordeal from my mind, helped by the fact that a very time sensitive project had landed in my lap at work. For the next few months I immersed myself in work, letting any and all thoughts of the matter drift to the back of my mind. Just as the project was beginning to wind down, something else flew along to take its place: the pandemic. Like the rest of the world, Maidenhead and the rest of the country went into lockdown. Leaving home was done only for essential travel, and I began to work from home, attending meetings via webcam like everybody else. During that time I didn’t hear anything more about anything disappearing, likely due to people and animals remaining shut up inside their houses. In retrospect, though, I know it was still happening. It was just that there wasn’t many, if any, who saw it.
The next I heard of the situation was in the summer of 2022. And it was when things truly ramped up for me. Nigel, my constable friend and I were finally able to meet up again for drinks, choosing to meet at The Crown in Bray for a change in scenery. As we caught each other up with what had happened over the last few years over pints and dinner, I saw that something weighed heavily on the man’s mind. Finally, I gently broached the subject. “Hey, Nigel, man, what’s up? You look like a man with weight on his shoulders” For a few moments, he seemed to fight with himself before answering. “If I tell you something, can you promise to keep it between us?” he asked, dropping his voice to an almost inaudible whisper as he shot looks around as if he were afraid of being overheard. “Of course” I answered, cocking an eyebrow at him as I popped another chip into my mouth. He again seemed to fight with himself, then spoke again. “Remember the missing animals I told you about a few years ago?” I nodded.
“It’s not just them that are disappearing anymore”
I jerked my head up to lock eyes with him as shock filled me. For a moment, I couldn’t speak. Then I forced the word from my lips. “What?” He nodded somberly, then took a large pull of his drink before leaning in again. “When the pandemic started, we received our first missing person’s call. Elderly woman who broke the rules and went out for a walk along the river late one night. Nobody heard from her again, and it wasn’t until her grandson rang us that anyone knew” He shook his head. “We never found any trace of her. And she was only the first. The last two years, we’ve had five people, her included, completely vanish by the riverfront. Nobody in the department knows what’s happening to them” He shot another wary look around before finishing.
“Or at least, is saying anything”
“But Nigel, this is far more serious than animals vanishing, man” I pressed, “These are people who are up and vanishing like they just walked into the Bermuda Triangle or something. Hell, for all you know, we’ve got some kind of serial killer or kidnapper on the loose. The cops have to tell the townsfolk what’s happening!” My friend shook his head slowly. “I’ve said the exact same thing to them, mate”, he began, “but the answer’s always been the same thing every time. Telling them would lead to a mass panic situation, which, after what happened the last few years, we cannot allow, end quote. And if any of us try to say anything, they’ve made it quite clear we’ll lose our jobs and have our names smeared to boot” I ran a hand through my hair, thoughts racing through my mind like a Formula 1 car. Finally, I sighed and asked the only question I could think to. “What the hell’s going on around here…?” “I really don’t know, Marshall” he answered before giving me a serious look.
“But, my advice, as your friend? Do your best to stay out of it. This is far bigger than you can imagine”
I turned the man’s words over in my head for a few days. He hadn’t seemed like he was threatening or trying to intimidate me; he was merely a friend trying to look out for me. And so, as much as the mental image of those old newspaper clippings haunted me, as much as my mind screamed at me to do anything, I pushed it away, attempting to take Nigel’s advice. I became lost in my work again. And, honestly, I likely would have dropped it then and there, had it not been for what happened next.
One late night in August, I found myself walking along Ray Mead Road towards my flat building. I hadn’t been able to sleep, and thus had decided to take a long walk to try and tire myself out. Insomnia was something I frequently dealt with, and the only way I found I could make myself sleep during such bouts was to physically drain my energy. The street lamps cast small circles of light down upon me as I walked next to the black railing, occasionally sparing glances at the dark water below. Every time I walked by the river now, I couldn’t help but feel the same creepy sensation I’d had that day in the field. Of being watched; scrutinized, even. But, I reasoned that as long as I was up here with the railing between me and it, I was safe.
As I drew within sight of my flat, however, a cry cut through the stillness. “Somebody help!” I froze like a statue at the yell for a moment, then began sprinting forward. The voice, what sounded like a young man’s voice came again. “Anybody, please, help!” As I approached an area which served as a mooring area for a small boat, I saw what looked like two teenage boys standing near the railing. The terrified looks on their faces as they turned towards me sent a new chill through me. “What’s going on?!” I demanded. They two boys stumbled over their words for a moment, then one pointed at the stairs. “Our mate, he was just goofing over at the steps. We all were, after being out having fun” The second spoke up. “He was standing on the steps when he slipped and fell in. He came up after a moment, a ways away, must’ve been carried by the current. Then he let out a yell and disappeared under the water” The first grabbed my arm with almost a death grip. “Please, sir, you have to help him!”
My mind raced. The police won’t be here in time. They have to be called though. I made my mind up, pulling my cell phone from my pocket and thrusting it into the teen’s hand. “Call the cops right now!” I ordered as I stripped off my jacket, kicking my shoes off as well. “What are you doing?” the second asked, voice still frantic. “I’m going in to try and find him” I answered, then stepped over the small sign proclaiming Do Not Enter, which was held over the exit to the street by chain. For a moment I stood at the top of the stairs, staring down at the water. A potent mixture of anxiety and, to a small extent, fear rushed into me. But I couldn’t waste time on emotions. The kid’s life depended on it.
I dove.
The water was surprisingly cold for summertime, even at night. It stabbed into my exposed skin like multiple knife blades as it enveloped me. For a few moments, I was blind, pushing my way through the dark water towards what I hoped was the surface. Then, my head broke into the air. Immediately I heard the sound of one of the teens frantically speaking on the phone. Good, he got through. Turning, I saw the second was staring down at me. I slowly began to swim against the current, which was stronger than I’d first thought it to be in order to stay in place. “Where’d you last see him?!” I called out, sputtering water from my mouth. The kid stabbed an emphatic finger behind me and slightly downriver. “Over there!” he called back. I turned, judging approximately where he’d pointed and began to swim. Thank God I was on the swim team in high school and college, I thought. The current was already working my muscles as I made my way to the area. Taking a deep breath, I dove under and, unable to see anything, began to feel around with my hands. I prayed I’d feel the brush of the teen’s clothing or hair. Nothing.
I surfaced, noting that I had drifted a small distance from my original dive point. I could still clearly see the teens, but they now appeared to be a little further away. Before they could ask me if I found anything, I took another deep breath and dove again. My hands aimlessly reached out, fingers grasping for any purchase. How deep is this damn river, anyways? As my lungs began to burn and scream for oxygen, though, my left hand finally did brush up against something. But I instantly knew it wasn’t the kid. Neither hair nor human skin or clothing had the feeling that slid across my palm. It wasn’t the bottom, either.
This was something else entirely.
A giant shiver passed through my body, and for a moment I froze, feeling the current begin carrying me away. I hated how even with my eyes wide open, I couldn’t see my own hand in front of my face. I felt more vulnerable than I ever had in my life. And the worst part was that the feeling of being watched was back. At a time and place that made me feel not just creeped out. But full on terrified. I didn’t wait for anything else to happen; I just kicked for the surface. As soon as my head broke into the air, a new sound reached my ears. It was someone calling to me, but it wasn’t either of the teens. Blinking the water from my eyes, I saw that an officer was now standing between the two. He leaned over the railing, his eyes finding me. “Sir, get back over here right now!” he yelled, waving an arm for me to swim back. For a moment, even with the strange, fear inducing encounter I’d had underwater, the mental image of the boy’s drowning figure danced in my mind, overriding everything else as my old lifeguard instincts reared their head again. “The boy’s still down here somewhere, I have to find him!” I yelled, preparing to dive again. That was when the officer yelled, his voice more frantic than I’d ever heard a cop speak.
“Get the fuck out of the water, now!”
The man’s tone made me look up at him. And what I saw chilled me to the bone. His face looked almost ashen in the glow of the nearby streetlamp. He wasn’t afraid; he was beyond terrified. And not for himself. It felt like all the blood in my veins turned to ice as the realization hit me. Oh…shit. I didn’t think beyond that. I simply began pouring on the power as I drove my arms and legs through the water towards where I’d entered. As I got halfway back, though, a surge of water suddenly rose up from beneath and almost directly behind me. I felt the push of it sweep upwards against my legs and feet, moving forward and out to the side before vanishing. And it caused a long forgotten memory to surge forward in my mind. A memory of sitting on my old surfboard in Santa Monica as I waited for the next set of waves, feeling a similar sensation race under my feet as I did. And turning to see a massive Great White Shark had flashed by under me, having taken what I could only describe as a test lunge at me.
The connection caused a new emotion to flood every inch of my body, one I hadn’t felt since that fateful day. Horror. Something just took a freakin’ practice swing at snatching me! The surge of adrenaline that came with it powered me on, making me swim faster than I ever have in competitions. I was terrified that at any moment, I’d feel something seize me and drag me underwater to an unimaginable fate. As I drew close to the stairs I risked a look up. The officer was standing near the water’s edge, arm held out as an equally terrified look to what I felt adorned his face. “Come on, sir, grab my hand!” he ordered. With the last burst of strength I had in me, I kicked hard and reached out, feeling his fingers close around my wrist as he practically wrenched me out of the water.
For a few moments I simply lay in a crumpled heap on the stairs, breathing heavily and unable to stop shaking as the memory of what I felt brush against my hand and the water surge played over and over in my mind. Then, I spared a look up at the much relieved face of the cop. “You mate, have no idea how lucky you are” he said, wiping sweat from his brow.
The next few hours were a blur, figuratively and literally. The officer hauled both myself and the two teens to the station, where we were split up into three interview rooms and gave statements as to what had happened, what each of us had seen. After a little while, and to my surprise, Nigel came into the room and gave me a change of dry clothes to change into. But what made my heart sink was the fact that he wouldn’t even meet my eyes. And he refused to answer any of my questions about what was happening. Finally, half an hour later, the door opened, and who I can only assume was one of the senior officers entered. After taking a final statement from me, he gave me a long, serious look.
“Before I let you leave, Mr. Blake, I need to stress something to you” I shot him a look as I pulled on the coat I’d been given. The man’s next words stopped me dead, though. “None of what you just told us will ever be spoken about outside of this station. My head jerked up to look at him, disbelief filling me. “Excuse me?” I asked. He nodded. “None of what any of you three have told us will ever find its way out of this building. You will not go to the press and tell them anything, nor will you start telling others in town” He narrowed his eyes at me. “I understand you’re an American over here on a business visa. You’ve been here for a fair few years now, with no record or history of trouble. You’re an upstanding citizen of the highest quality. However, if you don’t obey this order and attempt to say anything, to anyone, that can change. And you will be shocked at how quickly you’ll be deported back to America”
I felt my jaw drop open as I stared at him. I was speechless. Are you fucking kidding me? The man took my silence as acknowledgement, standing and moving for the door. But he stopped, turning back to cast a final, icy look at me. “And you will also no longer be seeing Constable Ackerson, either. He’s being transferred over to Swindon, I’m afraid” And with that, he left, leaving the door open for me to exit. Instantly, I knew the man had found out-either directly from Nigel or another source-what he’d told me. His transfer was punishment for it.
And so, I left the station, picking up my cell phone at the front desk, having been returned from the teenager. I quickly made my way back to my flat, refusing to look at the river and walking on the other side of the street as I reached Ray Mead Road. Inconsolable rage was beginning to build up inside of me. These fuckers are taking the disappearance of animals, of PEOPLE, likely by whatever’s in the river, and just sweeping it under the rug for whatever reason. And if those old newspaper clippings are, in fact, connected, this has been going on for close to a century, if not longer. The thought made a plan begin to form in my mind.
I should’ve realized they’d already thought of it.
When I returned to the library the next day, I found that I couldn’t find either of the newspaper clippings. There was a blank page where they’d once been held, showing they’d realized their error and cleaned up. And it made the rage I felt burn even brighter. A new plan began to form in my mind. One that part of me knew was incredibly stupid. But the rest didn’t care. Those people aren’t going to die with no one knowing what really happened to them if I have anything to say about it. And that…thing will be exposed to the world. And with the idea firmly in my mind, I began to gather the supplies I needed.
I knew my plan to get proof was dangerous.
What I didn’t know, though, was that in a few night’s time, I would come face to face with a horror beyond my understanding or comprehension. One that would almost be the last thing I ever saw.