Lighthouse Horror Podcast - A MONSTER saved my life. I wish it didn't | Scary Stories

Episode Date: May 22, 2024

We should have never gone... Story from dmackay1981 Make sure to check out more of their work at dmackay1981  Cover Art from Ninerio                               Original Post: Have you seen her? : r/nosleep Original YouTube link: A MONSTER saved my life. I wish it didn't     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 week, 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!

We all have secrets, don't we? Even when we were only kids. Most secrets are stupid things at that age. Things you look back on and you laugh about. My secrets, though, they were stranger. How could this have happened? I heard that a lot in the months after. My mom whispered it a lot. As we watched the paramedics wade out of the water, a stretcher carried between them. It was written in the newspaper beneath the pictures of me and my friends, bold like an accusation. A question no one could answer. Then, once again after the funeral, when Robbie's dad slid to the floor in front of us all and just sat crying. I heard him say it as a couple of the other dads helped him up and took him home,

his broken voice fading into the distance. I remember the awkward silence that followed. Nobody wanted to be the first to speak. How could this have happened? We lived in one of the safest towns in the entire country. Whole population was hardly 2000, and I knew every name, even at my age. The most heinous local crime had been perpetrated by my own uncle, drunk driving his new Chevy into some parked cars on Main Street.

And then everything changed in a single night. I walked back through the remains of our town. The streets are always empty now, silent homes with dark windows. Fallen leaves clung to every surface. The mist was so thick, it soaks you through. I left Matthew's house about an hour ago. I took the hill road that winds down to the bay. Moonlight filtered through the trees.

You can see the whole valley on the first few turns. The forest is reclaiming this place. Branches hung over roads and abandoned homes. Weed started taking back yards and driveways. Harts to see it. I try telling myself it's just something that happens. Towns fade away, folk leaving for a hundred different reasons. But this was our town.

This was my home. You understand? I ended up at my parents' place now, if I can still call it that. They moved years ago. And I've been trying and failing to sell it for them ever since. Nobody's interested. Even the few who come to see it, they never call again. Whole town's the same.

People... They just don't want to come back. The phone was ringing when I came in the door. I had that sinking feeling in my stomach as I reached for it, knowing it would be Matt's wife, Celia. I know why she'd be calling. She's gone, she'd said. Her voice more tired than anything.

After a moment, I'd started to say I was sorry, but she'd already hung up and I don't blame her. She'd read about what happened to us when we were boys, and she was smart enough to realize there was more to it, more than Matt would ever tell her. Took it to his grave in the end. I think she hates me for being part of the secret that hurt him. much. I don't blame her for that either. I put the phone down and sat watching it, waiting for something else. I don't know what.

Eventually I made some coffee, and I let it go cold. I took my coat off and kept it on my lap, breathing heavy like I'd run a marathon. Matthew, gone at 59. At least I saw him before the end. What the cancer left of him anyway. I'd known Matt since kindergarten. When we looked so alike, people thought we were brothers. I thought of the three of us together, me and Mad and Robbie, boys with their whole life ahead of him. And then I had to stop, because I could feel tears coming on.

And that's when I started writing this. God knows why. I suppose I got a story to tell and no one to tell it to. Honestly, I didn't even know if I could do it, if I could finally speak about what happened, if the spell was broken. But here we are, I guess there's no one left to hide it from. When I was five years old, my imaginary friend saved my life. I know, I know, stupid.

Just give me a minute. She was the same age as me. short dark hair and olive skin, bright eyes, and a smile. She came to my bedroom window, and she would sit on the ledge just swinging your feet. We whispered to each other so my parents didn't hear, talking till the sun sank, and the air grew cold. I never saw her anywhere else, and I never even knew her name. In my head, she was always just... the girl. From my earliest memories of her, I understood she wasn't a person like me. I saw her

vanish once after leaving through the window. She disappeared before her feet touched the grass. I accepted this, as only a young child can. That line between reality and fantasy hadn't really been formed yet at that age. How long had I known her? What did we talk about? I don't honestly know, how much do you remember from that age? But the first time I can really remember any details about one of her visits, well, it was before the fire in 68. My parents were away for the night, so I was staying with my aunt and uncle. They had no kids of their own, so I got a sleeping bag in the spare room.

The girl's voice woke me up in the dark of night. I remember I wasn't scared, just a little surprised, seeing her anywhere other than my room. But there she was, sitting on the floor like it was the most normal thing in the world. Get up, Jamie, she whispered. Quickly. I remember sitting up and rubbing my eyes. I coughed, and I realized there was a smell of smoke in the air. There's a fire downstairs.

You need to get out, she said, pointing to the door. I heard the crackle of the flames, saw the light of the blaze shining onto the lawn outside. Quickly, Jamie, the back door, she pointed. I ran to the hall, shouting for my aunt and uncle as I ran to their rum. Truth, be told, it's all the blur after that. I remember seeing my aunt sit up in bed, heard my uncle shout, and then a crash from downstairs, and all of us coughing. My eyes started stinging, and there was a blast of heat before we rushed into the chilly night air.

The three of us made it out, all right, but it was too late for that house. Not even the arrival of the fire department could save it. I didn't find out what caused the fire to. years later. It seems my uncle had too much to drink, started cooking something, then forgot about it, and went to bed. It would be a lie to say it wasn't like him. My parents took me home in the morning. There was a coldness between our families that I never felt before. It was the final straw between my father and his brother. To my knowledge, they never spoke again. His wife left him soon after, and he disappeared from town.

God knows whatever happened to him. Anyway, the next night back home, my friend visited again. I was lying wide awake, wondering if she would. You saved lives last night, she told me. You're a hero. Now, I wasn't sure of that, but I was a young boy, and it made me feel good, so I took it. I remember her leaning back out the window and looking up to the sky, a half-smile on her lips, as always.

Remember James, she said. I'll always watch out for you, but you have to keep me secret, okay? If you tell anyone about me, I can't ever come back. I won't tell anybody, I said. said. You promise? Her eyes twinkled. I promise, I said.

Swear? Her smile grew wider. I swear, I said. She gave a little laugh, face lit in the moonlight, and then she was gone. Seasons went by, birthdays and Christmas, Halloween and Thanksgiving. Mom walked me to school on weekdays, and Dad drove us to church on Sundays. Three years passed like this, safe and familiar. My closest friends in those years were Matt and Robbie.

I already knew Matt when we started class together. His family only lived a street away. He had one sister, two black Labradors, and too many cats to count. He was confident and outgoing in all the other. the ways I wasn't. So we made a great team. Robbie we first met in school. He was always the biggest kid in class. He could pass for a few years older, and he acted like it too. His family had only arrived in town at the start of the year. They moved into the old house by the lakeside. Robbie's father was a strange one. The man was

nice as pie with other parents around, but cold as ice otherwise. Half the time he treated his son like the boy didn't exist. Other times, like Robbie was a stranger. His mother was nicer, but spoke to us even less than her husband. She had a strong accent and a scar on her cheek that she covered up with too much makeup. Matt, Robbie and I, we did everything together. It got so there was no point planning anything without planning for three. I still treasure these memories.

I do. But they've grown bittersweet. There's a touch of pain with every memory now. It was the next June when I saw the girl again. My mom was watching TV downstairs. I think my dad was out front working on the car. I was in my room reading. There was only the night light on beside my bed.

I was drifting off in the summer night heat. My memories of the girl had faded as the years went by. I'd begun to doubt myself. Had she even been real? Maybe I'd dreamt her. Eight-year-old me looked at five-year-old me. Like it was a hundred years ago. I didn't think I would ever see her again.

I was too old to believe in something like that, wasn't I? But all of a sudden, poof, she was there. Real as you or me. Hello, Jamie. Do you remember me? Her voice rang out. And I got the scare of my life. I was about the call for my dad when I did recognize her.

She had aged as I did. But not so much that I didn't know those eyes. More than anything, though. It was the aura she brought that triggered my memory. How do I explain it? It was like being with her had a dreamlike quality, like being a little drunk and a little sleepy. The whole world felt further away except for her and her voice. I remember, I replied, trying to sound sure than I was.

I sat up and my book fell to the floor. She said, don't let anyone know I'm here. She was real, I thought. Not a dream or my imagination. I've come to help you again, James. I know when you're in danger. I can feel it. I can't always tell exactly when or how, but I know it's close.

Now you and your friends are in terrible danger, she told me. Mad, Robbie? How? I asked. I was staring at her still amazed. In fact, I'm sure my mouth was hanging open, likely looking like an idiot. I've kept you safe all these years, she said. You know that, don't you?

I'll keep you safe this time, too. But I need your help. I don't understand. What's going to happen? I asked. I can't be sure, not yet. All I know is that you or your friends will be hurt, and only you can stop it. She said.

I heard the back door. My father was coming in and heading upstairs. She swung her legs back out the window. Remember, James, like before, keep me a secret. She whispered. I, uh, I will, I said. You promise? She replied, a seriousness in her eyes.

I promise, I replied. Do you swear? She said, smiling. And I smiled back, suddenly remembering our words from years before. I swear, I said. The rest of the summer was like any other. Hot days filled with swatting flies as we hike through the forest, jumping in the lake and riding bikes till we could hardly see home.

Every day, I found myself thinking about the girl. Should I tell someone about her? What danger could we be in? In the end, I chose to keep quiet. She'd saved me once before, hadn't she? Surely she deserved a little trust. That was the same July, Robbie ran away from home. He went off into the hills for a night until Officer McKin found him.

He was eating pop rocks and trying to make a fire. We knew something was wrong with him the day before. Robbie was muttering under his breath and cursing like his father. He never told us why he did it, never once even spoke about it. It wasn't long after that. Matt brought up the three of us going camping again. The previous year we had stayed overnight on the small island out on the lake. It was only 50 yards from Robbie's house on the shore.

So it was just safe enough to get past our parents. Even at that age, we could have waded over, but we used our canoes to get to the island. It felt like more of an adventure that way. After a campfire and enough candy to make us all sick, we shared a tent for the night. Robbie's dad told our parents he would keep an eye on us last time, said he'd come over for regular checks, and watch our campfire. He didn't actually do any of that, but because we didn't want to cause trouble, we told our families he did.

Well, August soon arrived. The days were growing shorter and nights colder. It was the last week that would be warm and dry enough to camp out, so we got the okay from our parents for that Saturday. The girl came to see me the night before. All I could make out was a hushed voice in the dark, her silhouette in the open window. It's going to happen tomorrow night, James. On the island, I'm sure of it.

If we know that, can I just stay away? I asked her. She shook her head. Whatever is going to happen, I know. Only you can stop it. You're still brave enough, aren't you? If you don't go, it will be worse for your friends. I'm certain of it.

Just do as I say when the time comes, and trust me. You can do it, James. I believe in you. Do you trust me? I do. I swear, I promised. I lay awake half the night after she'd gone. I wanted to wake up my parents. I wanted to call Matt or Robbie. I wanted to tell someone,

anyone, but even the thought of doing so, it made my throat tighten. What would they say? What would they think? What if I made things worse like she said? And then whatever happened would be my fault, and the girl would never visit me again. I left for Robbie's house after dinner, grabbing my backpack and saying goodbye to my parents. When I reached the back door through the kitchen, the girl was there waiting for me. Jamie, take a knife from the kitchen, a sharp one, she said, pointing back to the house. What? Why? I asked. Jamie, stop it. You're the only one who can save your friends. I need to. I need to. I need to.

You need you to be brave. I don't think you'll need the knife, but what if you do and you don't have it?" She said urgently. I hesitated. I didn't really want to do it, but I snatched a knife from the drawer and I rushed out. I'll put it back as soon as I'm home, I thought. Maybe nobody will even notice. I rode my bike to the lake, the sun low but still warm on my face.

When I got there, Matt and Robbie were standing by the canoes. They were looking impatient or angry with each other. I wasn't sure which or why. As for me, I couldn't hide my nerves. I kept touching my pocket where the knife was, no matter how much I tried to stop. We paddled across in silence, the plastic ores cutting through the reflections of the sky. The sun sank between the hills, and giant clouds moved overhead. We pulled our canoes onto the shore, walked into the trees, and picked a spot for our tent and campfire. Looked like the same spot as the year before, but I couldn't be sure. That's when the girl spoke to me again, although I couldn't see her. Jamie, say you're going to collect firewood. Her voice drifted. Her voice drifted.

in the wind. I froze. I looked at Matt and Rob starting on the tent, but they gave no sign they hurt her. I mumbled something about going for wood, and then walked off. Neither of them answered. That dreamlike quality which came with her had returned,

but it was sharper somehow. It felt like a thousand threads tightening around me. And then I heard. heard raised voices. Robbie and Matt. I dropped the sticks, and I ran back. They stood facing each other, a gun in Robbie's hand. I remember how strange it looked, too big and awkward for his thin arm. We found out afterward he had stolen it from his mother. What are you doing? I asked. Because of him. Robbie said, shaking.

Look, he's got a knife. He was going to kill us. I looked down and saw the glint of a blade in Matt's hand. His sleeve pulled down to cover it. And then the gun went off. I flinched from the sound, heart racing. Matt fell. There was a ringing in my ears.

I saw Robbie scramble for the gun where it had jerked out of his hand. And then her voice again. Use the knife, Jamie. He's going to kill you. I looked down at the blade in my own hand. It was like an awful dream. All I had to do was what she asked, and I could wake up and be safe.

Robbie's eyes were fixed on the body between us. I saw his face as he realized what he'd done and realized it was forever. He hadn't meant to fire. I knew him, and I knew that. You have to stop him. The knife felt strange in my hand, almost weightless, but I saw Matt,

and I knew I didn't have it in me to hurt anyone. No matter what I was told, no matter the consequences, I couldn't do it. And so I threw the knife on the ground. James. Her voice was so sharp, I recoiled. What are you doing? Pick it up. No, I said.

My words were weak, and I held back crying. I can't. I heard Robbie then, pleading and desperate like me. No, I won't. do it, he was saying. He threw it away. He threw it away. And then it broke.

The dreamlike state fizzled out, and we were just two scared boys in the dark. What a disappointment. Her voice had changed. She laughed. Two cowards failing me at the last. moment. This could have been perfect. Well, we'll just have to make do with what we have," she said. Robbie stared at me, confusion showing. We both had heard her, I realized. She wanted us to. You can hear her? He said. There were sounds

now from the opposite shore, raised voices. Robbie glanced away, terrified. The gun hung limp in his hand. My eye was drawn to the barrel, and I found I couldn't answer him. I'd frozen up with shock and I couldn't even move. The girl spoke again, but not to me. Kill them, Robbie? Parents gonna say, what are they gonna do? No, no, I didn't mean it. I didn't. He said. Oh, but you did. You killed one friend and you were going to kill another. Jamie saw it all.

The girl laughed. But you said he was going to hurt us. You said I was the only one who could stop it. I heard more shouting. People were splashing through water and getting close. Did I? She asked. Is that what I said?

The girl in your imagination told you to kill Matt. What will his parents say to that? You killed their son. Is that your mother, I hear? She loved you and all you do is let her down. hurt her. What do you think she'll do now? You never stop hurting her, she said.

Just like your father. Robbie's eyes met mine a final time. His hands steadied, and he raised the gun to his head. I heard more adult's voices coming from the water's edge, but I couldn't turn away to look. And then the gun fired. Light flickered through the trees. I saw birds in the darkening sky.

Oh, well, she said, both playful and disappointed. Not perfect, but it'll do. The three of you were fun while you lasted. Sleep tight. I heard the sound. of approaching feet, people calling our names. I could see both bodies on the ground. Someone was shaking me, shaking me, but I couldn't move or answer. And then someone started screaming. I heard her screaming until it all went dark, and the only thing I can remember is the girl

laughing. The months immediately after are filled with police, doctors, and other strangers with worried or angry faces, and then a lonely, endless emptiness in the days and nights which followed. I tried to hide from it all, but I had nowhere to go. Matt had survived, which was the only bright spot. Still, it was a close thing, and he spent until October in the hospital. I lost my voice for those first few weeks. I was only able to squeeze out the odd, meaningless sound. I couldn't even write. Any attempt to form words became a senseless jumble in my mind. The family doctor said it was trauma, but I knew the truth. It was a one. It was a one. It was a warning, a reminder that I couldn't speak of her. I'd sworn, hadn't I? I had sworn, and somehow I knew

she would hold me to it. My mom often sat with me in those times, just holding my hand, talking to me about anything she could think of, in the hope something would help. I can still see the look on her face. How it pained her to see me struggle. More than anything, I wanted to speak, but I just couldn't do it. My father, well, he dealt with things in a very different way. He started withdrawing, started taking long walks or sitting in his office for hours. I think he felt that he'd failed me somehow, that he hadn't been there to protect me when I need. him. I finally found my voice one night when I woke up from a nightmare. I called for my dad without even thinking, just as I had when I was a little boy. Dad was the first word I'd ever spoken,

and here it was again. I remember he ran to my room and pulled me into his arms. And for a moment, one moment in all the pain and guilt and fear, it was as if things could. could really go back to the way they were. I could speak again now, but still not about the girl, no matter how hard I wanted to. I wanted to tell the truth, no matter the consequences, but it was hopeless. My lips sealed tight every time I thought of her. I tried to write it down, or even circle the words I needed in books. But my hand, it just froze as soon as I tried.

When Matt left the hospital, I found that he'd been rendered mute as I had. His parents took him to multiple doctors and psychologists, but no improvement. He couldn't break the spell. It's okay, I told him, the first time we were alone. I know. Our eyes met then, and he let out a long breath. His face was pale, and he started to cry. And that was the moment we both understood.

There was no need for words. We would share this, but never speak of it again. We couldn't tell anyone even if we tried. In time, he was able to start talking like I could. could. Though the inability to discuss the girl, it never wore off, I wondered how and when she'd visited him. Did he know how she'd lied to us? Did he still see her? I could never know for certain. All I could do was hope. Robbie's parents claimed the pistol had been locked in their safe, said their son didn't even know about the gun.

I could guess at how he knew about it and how he knew the code to the safe. The girl told him, I was sure of it. The town seemed split over how they felt about the couple. There were equal parts pity and anger. A lot of folk were feeling that way about each other since the incident. His father fled town. before the year was up, up and vanished without a trace.

And then on Christmas Eve, his mom drove their car into the leg. She swerved to miss my uncle's ex-wife of all people. Sad as it was, his mother's death became lost under everything else that had happened. She died in the cold, dark water, and it keeps me awake at night, wondering how she felt at the end. People spoke about that family, like they brought this evil to our town, like they carried it here with them in their beat-up station wagon. Bullshit. Even if it was true, what if they had? I didn't realize the truth until it was too late, you see.

I'd always imagined that we were the only one she'd prayed on, that, I don't know, it was a one-off. It took me years to suspect any different. In my defense, the incident caused my family to withdraw from the rest of town, or them from us, I don't know. No doubt it led to Matt's parents' decision to leave, moving away the year before we started high school. We kept in touch, but I didn't see him again until we were nearly 20, so I was on my own. Two years after Robbie's death, there was another murder. A group of teenagers on the other side of the valley were down by the lake. They were listening to music and sharing a stolen bottle of whiskey.

Before the sun had set, one had died, and four others were seriously hurt. Despite everything the police and parents tried over the years, no one ever got the truth. none of the kids involved would speak a word about it. I'd seen them the day before at the football field, laughing and joking without a care in the world. The following summer, the Goldsmith family had cops and paramedics at their house. They managed to keep the details quiet, but every one of them moved away in the next year,

leaving three empty homes. The children never went to school in that time. The adults left their jobs. Some kids I knew said that they only saw a 14-year-old Lily Goldsmith with a red scar around her neck. Our town, it always had a few odd stories, people seeing lights above the marshes, or drunk fishermen claiming they hear voices on the water, harmless campfire tales. But now, the name of our town became synonymous with tragedy, and these were only the incidents we knew about. When I was 16, the local mechanic Oliver Miller drowned his wife in their bathtub.

His son caught him in the act and stabbed him clean through the heart. It was on the news for weeks. I walked past their empty house on the way to school. And then it was Father Colby. One Sunday he locked the doors of the church and tried to set the place on fire with his congregation inside. My dad and a couple others managed to stop him, but he died of a stroke before they got him to the hospital. There's a devil among us, Father Colby had told people, wild-eyed and shaking. His last words were, I've seen her.

She always did like fire, I thought. I began to look at everyone differently, wondering if she came smiling to their windows at night. How long had she been here? Were we even her first victims? When I was 18, my dad pulled a gun on our neighbor. A man he'd been friends with for thirty years. My mom got between them, and the gun went off. The shot was only inches from killing her.

She forgave my father immediately, like it was nothing. He would never hurt her, she said. He'd never heard anyone. It was just a moment of madness. He hadn't been himself, she said. My dad hardly said anything after it happened, other than to beg them both for forgiveness. Between the three of them, they decided not to involve the police, but any friendship with our neighbor was clearly over.

I don't think they ever spoke again. I remember sitting with my father the next week, just the two of us in the yard. He'd grown pale in such a short time, thinner and hesitant. A gentle man broken by something he'd almost done. He was shocked and dishinged of himself. He was looking out at the forest. He sighed and shook his head, as if struggling with something, trying to find the words. He would never talk of it again, no matter how much I forced it.

More often than not, my own voice failed me. whenever I tried to talk about the girl. And then a few months later, my mother told us we were going to move. I'm leaving again tonight, and I won't be back. She can have this place to herself. A ghost on her own,

laughing in the dark. Maybe that's what she wanted all along. I've often wondered if she still watches me, even now. Will I wake up tonight? and see her at my window smiling. Will I hear her laugh again before I open my eyes? Or has she left us behind? Maybe she's starting again in a new town. If not me, then who does she visit? All I can say is that I hope you never see her.