Hoary with age, these patterns look like fields separated by dry stone walls submitting to a rising ocean. They are however an entirely geological phenomenon called tessellated pavement, caused by the interaction between erosion and the joints that form naturally in rocks as they are slowly uncovered and the pressure from the disappeared overlying rocks releases. The lower rocks then expand and split, sometimes in amazing geometrical forms like these orthogonal joint patterns.
On the rocky shoreline and field stone walls near the coastline of Shetland, Scotland, grows Ramalina siliquosa (sea ivory). This tufted and branched lichen grows above the high-tide mark but is still very tolerant of salt spray. Traditionally it forms part of the diet of sheep on Shetland.
“And above the woods, more stone-walled fields, climbing to a farm or two. And above the farms the moors – the empty prairies of heather that roll away north into Scotland. And in the very bottom of the valley, the dark, deep cleft, thick with beech, oak, sycamore, plunging to an invisible stream.”
“Aelita went from the useless damsel in distress to literally the most OP Lyoko Warrior. She could fly, she had her Energy Fields which could be combined to make even bigger Energy Fields and were strong enough to stop a Tank’s Laser Wall. Not to mention the fact that she can literally make platforms out of nothing, drop land forms on enemies to kill them instantly or remove the floor to plummet her enemies into the digital sea.”
Imagine coming up in the box but none of the boys hear it so you have to get out yourself.
“Hey!” You shout. “Someone let me out of here!” You pound your fists against the top of the metal cage. All you could see was the sky. After a few more minuets of screaming, you notice a small latch along the side. Stepping up onto a stack of boxes, you slowly open the door. As you pull yourself up over the edge, you begin to take in your surroundings. Its a huge field, surrounded by four stone walls. Where the hell am I? You think to yourself. On the far side of the field you see some sort of shack. You begin to walk towards it, gradually picking up your pace until you’ve hit a full on run. As you open the door you see a room full of arguing boys.
“Hey!” You scream over their voices. They all turn to you and everything goes silent.
Creepypasta #741: The Well Went Bad On The Pierson Farm
Length: Super long
The other night, I was reading my
oldest daughter a story at bedtime from one of her favorite books of ghost
stories, and afterward she asked me, “That story wasn’t true, was it, Daddy?”
“No, of course not.” I told her.
“Because things like ghosts and
monsters don’t exist, do they?” she hugged me goodnight.
“No, they’re not real.” I lied and
petted her head.
After making sure both girls were
tucked in good and tight, I left their room while my wife kissed them each, and
stood for a while looking out the living room window to the darkened street
below. I could feel my body tensing up instinctively, like it knew something
was coming, but nothing ever did. Still, I looked out the window for far too
long, remembering the terrible October of my 15th year.
I worked as a cashier at Klein’s
Pharmacy in the center of town, and had just finished up my shift. Home was
miles away, but I enjoyed walking it and having some time to myself and my
thoughts. The days were getting colder though, forcing me to bundle up tighter
on my walk to keep the chill out.
Normally I just followed Main Street until
it came to Loop Road which winded through woods and crop fields, but on a whim,
I decided to take a shortcut through some of the farms that bordered the town.
After a few minutes of hiking, I
reached a stone wall on the edge of the Pierson’s lot, and I hopped it to cut
through their one of their fields that seemed to be unused. The dirt was hard
and crunched beneath my weight. Leaves covered much of the area, blown off a
thicket of nearby trees. Across the field, I could just make out the Pierson’s farmhouse
in the distance, quiet and cozy looking. I stayed clear of it though, as Mr.
Pierson was known to chase trespassers off his land with a shotgun.
On the other end of the field, just
before another stone wall, I spotted a ring of set rocks surrounding a hole in
the ground. If I hadn’t been watching my step to avoid stumbling over the
uneven terrain, I might very well have not noticed it, and wouldn’t be telling
you this story now.
It was an old well hole, probably dug
many years ago. A lot of the farms in the area had them, often abandoned and
boarded over when the well went dry or the owners built a new house on another
section of the land. This one, however, was not covered. Propped up against the
stone wall was what looked like a wood lid that had probably been laid over it
at some point, but for some reason it was not that day.
As I got closer and my shoes crunched
in the frozen soil, I heard a voice echo from the depths of the well.
“Hello?” called a small voice
reverberating out of the darkness.
thought, somebody’s down there.
“Please! Help me!” the voice started
sobbing. It sounded like a kid, and I immediately thought of Robbie Pierson,
son of the people who owned the farm. He was 8 or 9 years old, had he fallen in