Flash Pulp

A new myth for you:

In the small town of Mundin – although the story has spread to most of its neighbours, and beyond – is a public swimming pool housed in a squat red-brick building.

On a warm summer’s day in 1987, Mitchell Dugas, known-drunk and the custodian in charge of maintaining the facility, over-compensated for a recent lack of maintenance by saturating the water’s chlorine level well beyond safe levels. Although the problem was not immediately obvious to those swimming, accounts of the incident say that Matty Smith, a boy of seven, was pushed into the deep end by an unidentified ruffian, and, in his panic, drank several mouthfuls of the tainted liquid.

Although he was quickly pulled from the water by the lifeguard on duty, blood was soon seen to be running from his nose, and, before any further first aid could be applied, he expired on the damp tiles at the pool’s edge.

Less verifiable is what happened some months later. With the coming of fall, and the lingering stigma of the death, the facility was seeing considerably less use. One September evening a side access door was left accidentally unlocked, and a trio of teenagers gained entry.

Intending only to dip her feet, one of the youths discovered that, despite the intensity of the smell of chlorine, the pool seemed to have been covered over with glass. Standing, she realized it could easily manage her weight. Soon all three were atop the invisible layer, running and cartwheeling. It was only when they’d gathered at the deepest portion, however, that the support gave way to a sudden bath.

It would have been little issue, as all three were capable swimmers, but the barricade had apparently returned, entrapping them beneath.

It was only the lucky approach of Dugas’ replacement, who’d realized he’d likely missed securing one of the entrances, that saved them. It’s said he swears the pool’s surface was undisturbed although he could clearly see the teens thrashing beneath, but, as his hand touched the cold damp, the barrier seemed to disappear.

Many who’ve visited the deep-end since have claimed the feeling of child-like fingers upon their ankles, but no further deaths have been identified as anything more than accidental.

– source