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  • Gill stared at the blackness above him. Another painful creak sounded from outside, ripping through his skull like a child through a birthday present. He pressed the pillow against his ears once more in a vain effort to block out the noise. Still, it echoed into the cabin, only slightly muffled by the cotton beneath his head. Something else had to be done.

    With tired, fluttering eyelids, Gill peeled the blanket off his torso and shuffled to the edge of the bed. Grasping around in the darkness, he found the handle of his bedside table’s drawer and pulled it open, pulling out a small brown box from the clutter. Gill plucked out a match and struck it against the side of the container, lighting it instantly. He scooped up the lantern from the floor and stuck in the flame, casting a brilliant orange glow across the room. The walls shifted back and forth in Gill’s hazy vision as he leant over to put on his boots.

    He stood up and rubbed his temple, taking slow, heavy steps to the door. A quick glance towards the mirror on the mantel showed Gill the scruffy, stubbled face he expected, coupled with a mop of shaggy hair. He wiped the crust from his eyes with his free hand as a crack of thunder whipped through the sky outside, with a flash of white shining through the windows against the pouring rain. The storm had been raging on for quite some time now.

    Gill slipped on his weathered coat and pulled out his keys. The wood was cold to the touch as he grabbed the doorknob firmly, bracing himself for the conditions. Taking one last look at his dry, comfortable mattress, Gill drew in a deep breath and flung the door open.

    The door slammed shut behind him in the howling wind almost as soon as he stepped outside. Immediately drenched, he held up his lantern and squinted through the rain across the river. A thick layer of fog was floating over the water, clouding the far-off mountains ahead. Gill’s little fishing boat was furiously rocking back and forth, barely held in place through the fierce winds. Taking a few steps forwards, Gill could just make out the shape of his net swinging back and forth on the hook it was attached to. Every time the wind blew, the beam would creak as it swung loosely above the ground. But Gill could tell there was something wrong. The net sagged more than it usually did. There was something else caught in it, something much bigger than a fish. Keeping the lantern at the end of his outstretched arm, Gill furrowed his brow and approached the shape, fighting against the diagonal rain pounding against his face.

    Soon, Gill could make out the pale silhouette of a hand shining against the soaked exterior of the cabin in the moonlight. His bony fingers traced the coarse rope of the net, and with a dramatic boom of thunder, a strike of lightning illuminated an icy pale body tangled in the netting.

    Gill shook his head and let out a tired sigh. He unhooked the net and let it fall to the ground, the fish spilling out across the dirt. No matter. He would clean them up ready for consumption in the morning. Slumping the mangled corpse over his shoulder, he tossed it back out into the river, where the bouncing tides carried it out of sight.

    Taking a moment of reflection, Gill wondered how the body managed to wash up at his doorstep yet again, even after he’d disposed of it so well the first time.

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    • Hi,

      Your English is much above average for a draft! I really, really appreciate that. You will get much better feedback than most people on the Workshop since we actually can read and understand your Pasta.

      You do have a typo in the title "Plaice" instead of "Place" but you can fix that in moments.

      You have a UK spelling of "leant" instead of the USA "leaned" in the second paragraph. UK English is entirely acceptable, along with AU, NZ, ZA and CA English. I just wanted to make sure you intended it as sometimes a word processor spell check is set to UK by accident.

      Since I can read your story, I can now talk to you about it. The guy keeps finding a body. Is it his body? Is it someone he murdered? Is it some other fisherman? I haven't made up my mind, but my guess since he doesn't seem that freaked or pissed is that it is his body.

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    • DrBobSmith wrote: Hi,

      Your English is much above average for a draft! I really, really appreciate that. You will get much better feedback than most people on the Workshop since we actually can read and understand your Pasta.

      You do have a typo in the title "Plaice" instead of "Place" but you can fix that in moments.

      You have a UK spelling of "leant" instead of the USA "leaned" in the second paragraph. UK English is entirely acceptable, along with AU, NZ, ZA and CA English. I just wanted to make sure you intended it as sometimes a word processor spell check is set to UK by accident.

      Since I can read your story, I can now talk to you about it. The guy keeps finding a body. Is it his body? Is it someone he murdered? Is it some other fisherman? I haven't made up my mind, but my guess since he doesn't seem that freaked or pissed is that it is his body.

      A "plaice" is a type of fish, which is where the joke lies (also, the guy is a fisherman named "Gill"). Also yes, the story does imply that Gill murdered the man in the fishing net, but past that, it's up to your imagination. Thanks for the feedback.

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    • Oh, and yes, the spelling of 'leant' instead of 'leaned' is intentional, as I come from the mystical land of England.

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    • I don't feel murdered. If so, you'd think there would be more reaction. "I killed Shattuck. I bashed his head and slit his throat because he muscled in on my spawning grounds and my fishing grounds. Is he now coming to kill me? Am I now doomed? Is this a curse?"

      I feel like "Dang, it's that stupid dead body again. I wonder who that poor sucker was. I tossed the stiff in a hole last month. Now I got the hassle of sticking him back."

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    • Honestly, to me, the horror of someone being so unresponsive to a horrifying incident is scarier than someone actually being shocked about it. More questions are raised that way, too. Did Gill kill anyone else? Is the body washing up an everyday occurrence, or was it just the one time? Is Gill desensitized to it, or did he never even care in the first place?

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    • Well, usually less is more but in your case it feels like it's a little too much "less". I don't know, it's way too open for me, it comes off as dry and lacking in a way. Is the corpse of a bad guy or not? Is this the first time he does this? Why doesn't he care? 

      I guess it's a little too many holes to fill for my mind in one story. 

      Some people might like it, I'm not a fan however. 

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    • Do you think I would be able to actually post it to the site, or does it need more work?

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    • I agree with Bloody Spaghetti. Too vague to post yet.

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    • Just a Guy That Likes Creepypastas wrote: Do you think I would be able to actually post it to the site, or does it need more work?

      I guess you could, but it could use some extra meat as well

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    • Just a Guy That Likes Creepypastas,

      I don't think the story would be deleted, but I am not even sure on that. It's too vague.

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    • Just a Guy That Likes Creepypastas wrote:

      A "plaice" is a type of fish, which is where the joke lies (also, the guy is a fisherman named "Gill"). Also yes, the story does imply that Gill murdered the man in the fishing net, but past that, it's up to your imagination. Thanks for the feedback.

      I know of a fish gill, but I don't know of a plaice. They aren't a commercial fish in these parts. I think it's too subtle a joke.

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    • A FANDOM user
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