This is Case File #0001. The recording you are about to hear is the first I've chosen to digitise for this collection. It's a corrupted digital audio file from the bodycam of a Police Constable Evans, recorded on the night of what the press officially dismissed as 'The Silent Tide Incident'—a freak tide, a tragic statistical anomaly.

This tape... this tape is the truth.

You will hear PC Evans's final shift from the beginning, as routine calls about disoriented locals escalate into a desperate search for answers in the dark. You will hear what she found on that beach, and the only tangible clue she had: a persistent, hypnotic hum buried deep in the static of her police radio.

I'm presenting this recording as I found it. Listen closely... and decide for yourself what truly happened on that harbour wall.

Takeaways:

• The Silent Tide incident in Tavenend involved a series of tragic drownings attributed to a freak tide.
• The police bodycam recording reveals unsettling details that contradict the official narrative of the drownings.
• Eyewitness accounts describe individuals standing motionless at the water's edge, raising questions about their state of mind.
• The investigation suggests a deeper mystery surrounding the phenomenon, including a potentially supernatural sound heard by witnesses.
• PC Evans, one of the first responders, reported bizarre behaviors among the victims that defy explanation.
• The folklore of the lost kingdom of Lyonesse, and its connection to the events, adds an eerie layer to the incident.

Links referenced in this episode:

• www.tavenend.com
• discord.tavenend.com
• patreon.tavenend.com

It concerns what the press later dubbed as the Silent tide incident in Tavern End. The official report, for what it's worth, cited a series of tragic, entirely coincidental drownings during a freak tide.

A statistical anomaly, an act of God. It's a neat, simple explanation that satisfies everyone and explains nothing. The recording you're about to hear is the truth.

It's a corrupted digital audio file on microcassette recovered from a police body cam I acquired through a surplus auction. It belonged to a police constable, Evans, one of the first responders on the scene that night.

Her testimony suggests a far more methodical and a far more unsettling explanation for what happened. Recording begins.

Control, this is four three. Loud and clear, Sergeant, Over.

Anything to report?

Negative Sergeant, all quiet. Over.

Enjoy it while it lasts. I've got a strange one for you. Can see concerned for welfare on the coastal path past the old Pilchard Works.

Roger.

Situation caller says her neighbor and Mr. Abernathy just walked out of his house in his pajamas heading for the beach. Not responding. Probably a bit confused. Can you pop over and check him out?

Copy. On my way. This radio's playing up against Sarge. A lot of interference. Getting a low hum from it.

Just ignore it. Evans, let me know when you're on the scene. Miller out.

Control on scene. I see four individuals at the waters line just standing and facing the sea. Hello, police? Is everything all right, sir? Ma', am, my name is PC Evans.

Are you okay? Control, they're not moving, not even shivering. It's freezing out here. Her clothes. Bone dry. Hello? Can you look at me, please?

Pupils are fully dilated. No response to the light. Control, be advised, individuals are unresponsive. So I'm just going to check your pulse if that's okay. I don't understand.

Evans, what is it? Talk to me.

He's his ice cold. But the skin, it's wrong. It's slick like wet salt. I'm checking for a pulse. This isn't right. I'll check the lady. There's nothing, Sergeant. There's.

There's no pulse. None of them. They're dead. But they're. They're standing. What was that? Did you hear that?

What can you hear? Evans, listen. We're getting more calls. Androse Lane, the slipway by the anchor. Same story. Get back in your vehicle. Head over to the harbour wall.

It's the highest vantage point. I want eyes on this now.

One of them is turning its head. It's looking at me. It's out of there, Evan, but it's looking out of there.

Evan, that's an order. Go to the harbour wall stand.

Oh, shut up. Control, I'm on my way now. Control, I've reached the town proceeding towards the harbour.

Look, I've called him back up. They'll be with you shortly at the harbour.

This is all. It's all wrong. Doors everywhere are wide open to the rain. I just passed Mrs. Gable's bakery. The door's swinging. You can see the till is open.

She's not there. Wait. Up ahead. Car stopped in the middle of the road. Looks like the engine's still running. Headlights on. The driver's door is. There's.

There's someone on the pavement. A woman. She's just like the others. Just standing there, staring at the sky. She's just swaying like a drunk. But there's no hold on control.

Mame.

She'S vomiting. God, no, it's. It's water. So much pouring out of her mouth and nose like a fountain. But she's. Hell no control. There was nothing I could do for her.

Heading to the harbour. No.

No.

I'm on the harbour wall. It's not people. It's a tide. A tide of flesh. The whole town. They're coming from every street. A procession.

Dragging themselves down the slipway into the water. There's no sound. They're just going that. They're not swimming, they're walking in sea until they're underwater.

Evans, get out of there. Can you hear me? Come on, Evans. Whatever the hell that is, fight it.

You can't fight it. Why would you want to? The bells. They are so beautiful. It's time to go home. Goodbye, Sergeant Miller.

Recording ends. PC Evans was one of them. Nearly 200 people walked off into the sea that night. The official explanation holds. A freak tide. Mass hysteria.

But they don't account for the sound. The low bell like hum PC Evans heard in her radio static. There's old folklore in these parts, of course.

The lost kingdom of Lyonesse swallowed by the sea. They say you can still hear the church bells tolling from beneath the waves. What's deeply unsettling is the sound on the tape.

The hum she was experiencing is the perfect acoustic match for a tolling bell. A ghost story? Maybe.

But it's a deeply unsettling thought that a simple radio signal could compel so many people to just walk into the sea and drown this is the first recording I've digitised. The first of many.

I maintain a public website for this archive@tavernend.com if you wish to discuss any of these recordings, there is also a community@discord.taverned.com this archive, this work, is funded by listeners.

If you wish to support the preservation of these records and gain access to my private research notes, case photos and other materials, you can do so by visiting patreon.taverned.com I will be adding my full case file on the Lyon? S legend, including the acoustic analysis of the bell frequency, to the archive. The paper, every contribution helps me continue this work.

Okay, what next? Tape. Six. Seven. Home. Ah, yes, the answering machine tape. The cold caller. The poor girl named Sarah. The voice, that awful electronic static.

And that final message. End of entry.