Lighthouse Horror Podcast - A Coffin Just Appeared In The Front Yard Of Every House On My Street | Scary Stories

Episode Date: September 15, 2023

There's something inside them.  Story from JoeTheSane                          Original Post: A coffin has appeared in the front yard of every house in my neighborhood : r/nosleep                                     Original YouTube link: A Coffin Just Appeared In The Front Yard Of Every House On My Street            For more stories like this one, check out my YouTube channel: Lighthouse Horror | YouTube  Patreon: Lighthouse Horror | Patreon Merch: lighthousehorror.com  Music: Lucas King - YouTube Myuu - YouTube  Incompetech Darren Curtis Music - YouTube Thank you for listening to this scary story! If you enjoyed this new creepypasta story, please check out some of my other horror stories. We'll be uploading new episodes every day, featuring ghost stories, haunted encounters, mysteries, true stories, creepypasta, and anything supernatural and paranormal. Don't miss out on the thrill and suspense that await you in each episode!

You're driving home at night when you see a coffin in the front yard of every house on your street. Do you, A, open one of the coffins and look inside. B, call the police. Or C, don't worry about it and just go to sleep. Here's the story. My wife and I were on our way home from dinner tonight when we first saw it. Dead center in the yard of the first house we saw, among all the skeletons, scary giant spiders and lights,

was a perfect replication of a dark brown coffin. My wife looked at me and said, Damn, I wonder where they got that. Must have been expensive. She looked a little jealous. Typically, we are the house on the street that goes all out with the Halloween decorations. But after a couple bad years of work, we just haven't been able to refresh our collection. We slowly passed to admire the decorations, and noticed the house next to them had the same coffin

decoration as well, even though they don't typically decorate. In fact, the coffin was the only decoration. No lights, no jack-o'-lanterns, no creepy dolls. Just a dark brown coffin in the center of the yard, almost invisible in the growing dark. As I was scowling at the creepy weirdness of just one decoration, I heard my wife say, Oh my God, there's another one. I looked ahead to the other side of the road where she was pointing. I stopped the car. It's all of them, I said. Staring down the empty street ahead and down the streets to the left and the right, we saw the exact coffin in the exact center of every lawn. We turned to each other, and I'm sure my face

mirrored her freaked out expression. I crept down the streets toward our house, seeing coffin after coffin. Our neighbors had begun to notice, as we saw some were peering out the window at the apparently unexpected decoration. As we passed our next door neighbors, we saw the couple in their yard, looking down at the coffin. His expression was one of fury, but she had her hand over her mouth and was slightly shaking. She'd just beaten cancer. Their van, parked in front of the house, hid our lawn, but I knew what we were going to see before we passed it and pulled into our driveway. Seeing it, I could feel my heart race, and a cold sweat trickling down my spine. Then almost robotically, we grasped at each other's hands and walked up to the box.

I gave it a little shove with my foot and it didn't budge. A harder kick. Nothing. This wasn't some cheap-o thing from Spirit Halloween. It felt like the real thing. I held Carrie's hand tighter and stand up and down the street. It was completely silent, except for the quiet sobs from my neighbor. More were looking out at the coffins, some trying to open them.

Some trying to move them, all to no avail. Let's go inside. The sudden suggestion from my wife made me jump, and I felt a stab of ice in my heart. Normally, scaring each other is a cause for celebration, but this time... What kind of weird-ass joke is this? I'm looking at the damn thing from my living room window, and I have no idea what to do. Update with my earlier comment. I slept like shit last night.

I don't know if this is real or a dream I had. I'm prone to nightmares, but I got up in the middle of the night and went to our front window to take another look at that damn thing. I looked through the break in the curtains, and it was still there, eerily reflecting the white blue of our porch light. My mind blank, I stared and eventually noticed movement across the street. When I first saw it, my mind screamed ghost, even though I don't believe in that shit. But after that initial scare, I realized it was just Sandy.

Is that her name across the street coming outside to look at the coffin? She was walking up to it slow, like she was scared it would rush her. She walked right up to it and bent down, easily lifting the lid. What the hell? I finally was able to see her face, and it was blank. Not scared, not angry, not curious. Nothing. My heart raised and I felt sick as I watched her get into the coffin and as the lid closed,

I must have passed out. I woke in my bed just a few moments later. I hurried over to the window to see our coffin still in the yard. The lawn across the street was empty. I'm going to go over there this morning to see how they are. God, I don't think they even know my name. I'll update soon. Update.

So after I saw what happened with my neighbor, I hurried to the bedroom and shook Carrie awake. I watched her eyes go wide as I described Sandy getting into the coffin. That can't be real. I know, I know, and their coffin is gone. What do we do? We need to check on her, my wife said. We pulled on our clothes, went out and started across the street. Carrie abruptly halted in the middle and put her arm across my chest.

to block me. She pointed to a house down our side of the street, and across to the right. Their lawns were also coffin-free. Everyone had one, right? She asked. Yeah, I think so. We continued to the door. I looked down to make sure I wasn't stepping on any of Sandy's flowers. I was confused to see that the garden was mostly dead. There were some empty plastic pots scattered around, not even nice ones, but the plain black container that plants from the store come in.

It looked like they'd been sitting there for months. What happened? This was a nicely maintained flower garden yesterday, wasn't it? Carrie was looking at it too. It wasn't like that yesterday, right? I looked at her and shook my head. She moved to the front door as I stared at the garden. Carrie's sharp wrapping on the door shook me out of my reverie.

She waited a few moments and knocked again. She turned to me and shrugged. A thin worry line creasing her brow. I cupped my hands around my eyes and looked into their window. I noticed right away the foyer was a mess of boxes, tools, and even some car parts. Like I said, I didn't know her well at all, but it seemed weird that the inside of their house seemed like such a dump. I'll go around the back, I told her. It was uncomfortable enough just walking up to a neighbor's house and knocking.

Dropping by is a thing that seems to be going by the social wayside. Opening their side gate and entering the backyard felt straight up wrong, like I was trespassing. I guess that is literally true. I'd never seen them before, but the gardens in the back were also mostly dead or overgrown. There were tools and gardening implements laying about the yard, as well as a long, unused, and dilapidated doghouse. to the doghouse was a frayed, dirty rope, and on the other end of the rope was a torn collar that may have once been red, but was now tattered and rusty brown.

I noticed a name tag on the collar, but couldn't bring myself to read it. Leaving that, I navigated the patchy grass to look into the sliding glass door on the porch. Through a gap created by a single missing panel on their vertical blinds, I saw that their living area was completely coated in what looked like unwashed laundry. Jeans, socks, and various teas and flannels. All looked like men's clothes. My imagination must have run away with me, because one of the piles looked like there was something under it.

I took an involuntary step back as my breath caught in my throat. No, no, just a normal pile of clothes. More than freaked out, I hurried back around to the front, making sure to close the gate and told Carrie what I saw. With no answer at the door, we started back home and saw the next-door neighbor staring at their coffin. Greg, I thought. His name's Greg. He noticed us looking and called to us. Hey, what kind of person would do something like this? The last thing Rebecca needs is to see this in our yard. She just went into remission, you know. Yeah, I'm sorry, man. I replied. We're shaking too. Weirdly, he looked at our yard and seemed shocked to see a coffin there.

He took a long look up and down the street, as if looking at it for the first time. Why don't they have one? He asked, pointing across the road. Or them. Or them. He pointed at each house that no longer had a coffin. I explained that each did have one last night, but they disappeared. His face went from anger to confusion.

I started to ask him if he'd spoken to any of the other neighbors, but I could tell from his far-away expression that he was miles away. He stared back down at the coffin, slowly shaking his head and rubbing the back of his neck. Carrie pulled on my hand and led past the coffin and to our front door. Back at home, Carrie and I talked about what to do. She wanted to call the police and do a wellness check, so I picked up my phone. They must have been getting a lot of calls because it went straight to voicemail. I left the reason for the call and my contact details.

Carrie noticed my scowl as I hung up and sighed. We discussed whether we should call 911, but decided not to, since we didn't know if there was an actual emergency. I did, however, call my ex-wife and left a message asking her not to send the kids over today. Better safe and sorry. Having nothing better to do, we logged into work. Well, shit, lunch is over and I haven't eaten.

I guess I had more to tell you than I thought. It's now evening and I didn't get a chance to post the above update. That works because I have more to add. Yesterday evening. The husband across the street usually gets home at 7 p.m. on the dot. Today was no different. When I saw his truck pull up, I went out and met him in his driveway. I probably should have asked Kerry his name before I went.

He saw me approaching and scratched at his gray beard. He looked like he'd aged a decade in one night and he didn't have to be. many decades left in the first place. Hey man, I was talking to Greg over there a little earlier. What do you think of all this? I waved my hand up and down the street. It is some freaky shit, man. You know, at first I thought it was a new thing everyone wanted for Halloween, like those damn giant skeletons last year. Waste of money if you ask me. But a couple folk down the road said they didn't buy them, just there like they always had been. Not sure. why I'm one of the ones that didn't get one.

But you had one last night? I said, confused. At this point, I noticed Carrie was watching from the front door. No, no, didn't have one last night. He shot me a bit of side eye. Oh, I said, my mistake. I paused for a moment. Does Sandy have any thoughts?

He was getting impatient. Is that the lady two doors down? How the hell should I'm? I know what she thinks." I took a longer pause than he had patience for. No, Dan. Dave. He grimaced at me.

No, Dave. Your wife, Sandy. His eyes narrowed, and he looked me up and down. What is wrong with you, guy whose name I don't even know? You moved here years ago. You don't talk to no one. Then don't even notice I'm not married? Tell me something, Jackass. You ever seen a woman around my house?"

No. No, of course not. I apologize, Dave. I must have confused you with somebody else. I'm sorry. I'll just go inside and let you be. Yeah, you have a good one too, idiot." He said under his breath. I must have looked completely abashed when I went back inside. Because despite everything, Carrie raised her eyebrows at me with a small smirk. So it went well? She teased. She always said. She always knew how to make me smile. I told her everything he said, making sure to remember every detail of him apparently not ever having a wife. What the hell? Did you tell him what you saw last night? No, which is probably how I made it back here with an unbroken jaw. If you want to go over there and tell him how his wife that he never had got into a coffin that was never on his lawn

and disappeared, then go for it. You know, in fact, you should. I'm sure he'd be. delighted to speak with you. We both started laughing. One thing we've always been good at is being able to carry the other when things got tough, and to keep each other in good spirits when things got really tough. We decided at dinner we were going to stay up and watch the houses on our street. We want to see if we can catch anyone else getting into coffins. I made coffee, she boiled a pot of tea, then we sat down to watch some TV to distract us while we waited. She leaned her head against my chest, and I put my arm around her. This morning.

This has gone beyond weird and frightening to downright terrifying. We're getting the hell out of here. Susan is gone, along with most of our neighbors. And we've seen the things that are taking the coffins. Carrie is packing for us while I write this update. We waited up last night as planned. We got out a couple of chairs and even brought our little iron fire pit from the backyard to keep us warm. We decided to walk around the block as it drew towards midnight, and we noticed

that there were other watchers. Some sat inside by their windows with their lights off, some on their front porches, some in the driveway like us. We even saw one old fake wood-paneled station wagon driving a slow circuit around the block. It looked like about one out of every five houses no longer had a coffin. That only took about 15 minutes, so we sat by the fire, drank caffeine and waited. Have any of you done any camping? Have you noticed how you can get to staring into the campfire and just lose time? My dad used to call that dreaming the fire. I was so deep into the dreaming that I almost didn't notice the sound of Susan and Greg's door unlatching. Carrie gave my shoulder a hard shake. She pointed and I saw Susan walking

slowly and stiffly towards their coffin for a moment. All I could do was stare, too frightened to get up. Susan, Carrie said, jolting me out of the chair. She was already halfway into their yard before I was able to catch up. We got about five feet away from the coffin, and all energy was zapped out of my body. I felt too weak to do anything more than stand. I heard a small whimper come from Carrie's throat, or it might have been mine. I've passed out before, and this felt like the first few.

moments after regaining consciousness. A light sweat covered my body and my muscles refused to do anything. Somehow I remained standing. I couldn't look away from Susan's slow march to the coffin. I heard Kerry try to yell for Greg, but it came out as a weak moan, like when someone's calling out in their sleep during a nightmare. I willed my eyes to roll towards the house and And in the bay window, I saw the pale form of Greg standing and watching his wife. I could see the orange light from our campfire flickering in the trails left by tears going down his face. Susan was at the coffin.

She bent down and lifted the lid. Inside was a simple white silk lining with a matching pillow. Susan got in, lied down, closed the lid. lid. And that was it. I felt some strength radiating back in my body, as Carrie did, because once again she started moving first. She grabbed the lid of the coffin, sobbing as she tried to lift it. A split second later, I was with her, pulling with all my strength against the lid. But it held. We stopped at the same time. I looked again at Greg and saw him turn and walk away from the window into the darkness of his living room. Through my frantic pulling, I felt Carrie place a shaking

hand on my own. Joe, she said, I stopped and looked at her. She was staring at the road with wild, panicked eyes. Parked on the road was a shiny hearse, so black that the light from the campfire and the stars just fell into it, trapped for eternity. The modern angles on it were sharp and mean, created to perfectly communicate that you have forever lost someone you loved. Standing in a line behind the hearse and facing us were four identical figures. They were tall, towering over the top of the black machine.

Their gaunt faces were turned towards us, and each showed a sneer of superiority slashed across their thin, pale lips. Held under their left arms, each held a black silk top hat, and in their right an ebony cane topped with a simple silver globe, the only hint of color on their persons. Each moved towards the coffin and placed their cane vertically on the ground, where it balanced perfectly still. On them, they hung their hats and the canes still did not waver. They formed a lined path from the coffin to the rear of the hearse.

They lined up on either side of the coffin and lifted it to their shoulders, showing no sign of strain. They walked in perfect sink to the hearse, and the rear door opened to accept its prize. Neither Carrie nor I dared to move. The ritual that we were watching was something old and unholy. The coffin was in, and the door closed. And then the pallbearers were circling us. Their manner was one of observation, like we were something tiny and meaningless, maybe even

amusing. I've never felt fear like this before. I somehow knew that no amount of running or fighting would ever overcome this absolute finality that death was all that awaited, and it would be an eternity of horror. Two of the pallbearers swiveled aside and gracefully bade us to our house with outstretched arms. We walked together, and when we passed them all faded to black. We woke up this morning together in bed. Carrie and I looked at each other, and there was nothing to say.

We talked about leaving, but somehow we know that we can't, but we're still going to try. We've tried to call the police. I tried to call my ex-wife. Carrie tried to call her parents. All went right to voicemail, and we realized that we've gotten no calls, no voicemails, no text messages. Nothing since this thing started. I'll update soon. Final update.

Sunday morning, the seventh day. I'm sorry it's been so long for this update. It's been a screwed-up couple days, but all's well. This whole experience seems to be fading from my memory, but I'll try to give as much detail as I can remember. So we did try to make it out of the neighborhood. God, was it a week ago? We packed some clothes, my mountain of anxiety meds, and some bathroom supplies, and we got

the hell out of Dodge. Driving through the neighborhood, we saw a few of our neighbors wandering around, confused, crying, seemingly lost and alone. None even looked at us as we sped past. We also noticed even more yards empty of the coffins. Looked like maybe about half had someone taken. Carrie was stunned by how many had gone. I saw her mouth moving as she looked out the windows and finally figured out that she was whispering.

That's not going to be me. That's not going to be me. Over and over. I put a hand on her knee to calm her down. Hey, we're leaving. We're going to be fine. I said. She said nothing.

We made it to the exit of the neighborhood, and I stopped. I was almost expecting to see a glowing force field holding us in. But all I saw was the road out and the entrance sign. Welcome to Harmony Hills. No solicitors. I slowly pulled out, and once I was sure that the car wasn't going to immediately and mysteriously break down or explode, or that we were going to get sucked into a portal to hell, I hit the gas.

Carrie watched the neighborhood disappear behind us and let out an audible sigh of relief. We continued driving down the empty road, feeling the freedom of the passing pines and sand to the left and right of us. Despite the chill in the air, we opened the windows just to feel the wind, like a celebration of our escape. We looked at each other and even smiled a little. What do you think is going to happen to the rest of them? Carrie asked.

Well, hopefully they'll do what we will. did and get the hell out." Yeah, she said, the line of concern showed again. We drove for some time without seeing another car. Not unusual, considering our remote location, but I was eager to see some normal people doing normal things, their faces unmarred by grief, panic, or despair. Finally, we pulled into the first sign of civilization, a small strip mall. Today the parking lots were empty, and the lights in all of the stores were dark.

I felt a stab of panic and looked at Carrie. She was in full deer in headlights mode. I opened the car door and the snap of the latch made her jump, a small shriek escaping her. I stepped out of the car, sensing something was off, above and beyond the lack of people. I walked up to the Cranberry Market storefront and peered in. Not only were there no customers or clerks, there was nothing, no shelves, no counter. The coffee machines were gone, as well as everything in the refrigerators.

The floors were empty and gleaming white in the sunlight that made it through the store windows. It was as if the store had just been built and was waiting to be supplied. A quick walk down the rest of the strip showed that every single storefront was in the same sterile state, and there was no sound other than the whistle of the breeze through the trees. Normally you'd hear morning doves and chipmunks rustling about. There was nothing. Not a single scrap of sound gave evidence of anything living around us. I hurried to the car, and once I was in and pulling out of the parking lot, I told Carrie what I saw. She barely reacted, just a small nod.

We are getting out of here, I reassured. We just need to get far enough away. Twenty-five minutes later, we were driving through the closest town, a quaint little village with a typically lively main street, and an inn which was restored from an old cranberry packing house. It was empty. Driving slowly past, we could see that each business and restaurant was in the same pristine yet abandoned state.

Still, we were met with no cars on the road, or people walking the sidewalks. The world had emptied and we were the last drops of life remaining. As soon as we realized there was no one, I sped the car up and went for distance. We headed up the coast through New York on highways, empty of cars. I thought the sight of the city, silent and empty, was the eeriest part of the trip. Carrie was more freaked out by driving through the empty and dark Lincoln Tunnel. I can see your point. There were a few times where I thought I saw movement just outside the range of our headlights.

It still gives me the shivers, even sitting at home on my couch now. The sun started to go down as we approached Hartford, so we decided to stop and look for food and someplace to sleep. The houses around us were just as empty as every other building, so we found nothing to eat, nor could we find a bed. In the last house we entered, we just put down a pillow made of our own packed clothing, and cuddled close for warmth, the lack of any sort of noise created a constant rush of white noise in our ears as our brains tried to create any kind of stimulation at all.

Despite the phantom noise, we eventually found sleep. In my dream, I was looking out our living room window. I could see Carrie moving slowly towards the coffin. Surrounding her were the pallbearers with their tall black satin hats and expressions of completely and utter glee on their faces. Their eyes widened in delight, over sharp-toothed smiles, and Carrie opened the lid and started to get in. I could move.

Tears were streaming down my face, and I knew in a few moments I wouldn't even remember her, meeting her at a friend's party and clicking over the old legend of Zelda games. Both of us cracking up as we each dropped our wedding rings during our wedding. our wedding ceremony. All of that was about to be wiped from existence. As the lid closed, I woke up weeping into my hands. Something was different. I heard Carrie stir rustling in the sheets. I looked through my fingers like a child watching a horror movie. We were back home. I woke Carrie up the rest of the way, and she dolly looked around before falling back into her pillow. Our clothes were back in the drawers, and we were in our pajamas.

Looking out our bedroom window, I saw that the car was gone. So that was it then. We were stuck. We spent the rest of the next several days sitting in the house, just waiting. We barely spoke. I noticed that the other neighbors had stopped coming outside too. The neighborhood became as quiet and empty as the world outside had been. Every day became enshrouded by a dense fog of apathetic anticipation. Then, last night I awoke at around midnight, when I heard a scream from Carrie. It was the first sound she'd made in days, and it pierced through my head like a barbed arrow. I shot up out of bed to see one of the pallbearers looking at her through the window, smiling

and beckoning to her. Suddenly, I felt energy fly back into my body and I ran down the stairs to where our bedroom was on the outside of the house. When I got there, I could hear my heart racing in my ears and felt the surges of blood pulsating in my neck. Nothing. The pallbearer had spirited away if he'd ever been there at all without deciding to. I started walking around the block as the vigor left my body.

I noticed that only one or two out of every ten houses now had a casket, and I realized this was about to end. Back at my house, I mourned the life Carrie and I had together, knowing it was already lost. Monday the 31st. Midnight. Yesterday Carrie didn't get out of bed. She just wrapped herself in a cocoon of sheets with just her eyes and nose peeking out. I tried to rouse her, but she didn't react.

I spent the day on the couch wasting the last few moments I had with her. When night came, I went back up to bed and kissed her on the cheek through the blankets as I got under the covers. Midnight, I wake to a moon that is painting our room an incandescent white blue into an empty bed. But there was no stab of fear, no heart leaping into my throat, just a dull plodding ache. of loss. Did I even want to watch this happen? My legs carried me down the stairs, and I turned to the corner of our living room. There was Carrie, watching out the window, tears streaming down

her face. I don't think she was able to move, but she was looking at me out of the corner of her eye, her face expressionless, and I understand. The strength is gone from my legs, and I sit heavily on the couch. Inevitability washes over me as I think about what it will be like, to be gone, to never have been here in the first place. I mourn the loss of my life. I mourn my children who I hadn't seen in what felt like in eternity and were about to have never been born.

I mourn the happy moments filled with love and laughter that were about to never have happened. I mourn myself. I can hear slow, tired. crunching on the road outside. I hope I'm ready.