Lighthouse Horror Podcast - I Found a Strange Looking Skeleton Near The Ocean. I Shouldn't have Touched It | Scary Stories

Episode Date: April 24, 2024

I made a terrible mistake... Story from Darkly_Gathers Make sure to check out more of their work at u/Darkly_Gathers  Cover Art from Denis Zhbankov Original Post: The Mermaid Skeleton. : r/nosleep  Original YouTube link: I Found a Strange Looking Skeleton Near The Ocean. I Shouldn't have Touched It           For more stories like this one, check out my YouTube channel: Lighthouse Horror | YouTube  Patreon: Lighthouse Horror | Patreon Merch: lighthousehorror.com  Sound Effects: Freesound Zapsplat Music: Lucas King - YouTube Myuu - YouTube  Incompetech  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!

Rumor tells of an ancient and weather-beaten skeleton caught in the folds of the furthest outcrop of rock from the beach. I shiver as I pull my jacket a little tighter around my shoulders. Dispell any tropical aesthetic that the word beach may have conjured up in your mind. The cold and tumbled stones I stand upon this evening form a beach in name only. I won't say exactly where one could find this stretch of grim stone pepola. sand, but it lies on the Irish West Coast, between two low and gray-green cliffs. The outcrop is visible from here.

Normally a stony island far out at sea, marked by a large and knife-shaped rock stuck out in an angle towards the sky. But this evening, the outcrop is reachable. A rare bout of extreme low tide has created a winding path between the largest groupings of stone. trail leading out through the water, and it is one that I am set to follow. I hopped down onto the stones of the beach with a crunch. The weather conditions are good, low mist, no rain.

There's a little wind, and the sky is overcast gray. But as I said, this is the Irish West Coast. I wouldn't expect anything else. My name is Sircha. I like to take pictures of stuff. That's my backstory. I don't actually believe for a minute that there's any mermaid skeleton out there on the rock, but there must be something.

Something to give rise to such a rumor. Tide is low. I'm wearing bright colors for visibility, and I have my phone. I'm safe, and I'm curious, and I want to see. I cross the length of the beach and step out onto the first flat stone, watching the sea water lapse steadily at its edges. It's slippery, so I walk as flat-footed and as carefully as I can. A seagull's call is carried on the wind past my ears, but I keep my gaze focused on the rock beneath my feet as I walk.

The gentle waves froth white against the stone. It's a lot further out than it looks, actually. But I'm over halfway there. No point in turning back now. The cliffs are way behind me. I glance up. The sun hovers above the lower. the tip of the outcrop's key identifier, the stone in the shape of the knife. Its light is a white

blur behind the gray. I squint against a whirl of icy wind, gritting my teeth, and clutching to the camera around my neck on instinct. Just a little further. I step from rock to rock, with the occasional hop when the stone dips beneath the surface. And with a slip and a murmur of quick distress, I land on the final outcrop, lurching clumsily forwards, and steadying myself against the rock knife for balance. It's bigger up close than it appears from the shore. It's taller than me, for one thing. I catch my breath and take a step back.

The outcrop is curiously shaped, like an arc, kind of, a semi-circle of sorts. I clamber past the largest of the rocks, the knife, and step over. a low smattering of sea-beaten boulders to the other side, the side that faces away from the beach. Ahead there is nothing but open sea. But to my right, nestled amongst the stones and surrounded by clusters of wave-thrown shells and pebbles, is the tail end of a skeleton. Surely it can't be anything else. Such rows of thin and spine-like blades of faded cream, the wider fin-like blades at the tip, tucked just below a ridge of rock and out of the wind. Honestly, it's a wonder that the tide hasn't taken it all the way. I walk around the edge of the outcrop. The wind

rumbles in my ears. And around the corner, behind a sea-smooth boulder, the skeleton of the great fish ends in a human torso. I stare at it in disbelief. I laugh, first of all. It must be a prank. But the laughter fades. The laughter fades. And I find myself mesmerized by this impossibility. This anomaly out here around the rocks. The body is human.

There's no doubt about that. Ribs and spine. The skull is lulled to the side and wedged against the slippery stone. It is still human to my eye, though the teeth. The teeth, the teeth are much sharper than one would expect to find in the body of a human man or woman. Easy, Sirisha. I muttered to myself out loud.

This thing isn't real. It can't be. But I can't look away. The skeleton is mesmerizing in its beauty, ethereal, yet sad. I remove my camera from around my neck and snoburned. Snap a couple of photos. I reach down to the bones, and after a brief hesitation, grab hold of one of the ribs, it disconnects from the slimy rock with a little crunch and a burst of sea water droplets,

and I become at once aware that my surroundings have changed. The change is difficult to place, however, and I do not notice the lack of light until I turn to the west to look at the horizon. The sun has disappeared, and the sky's dark edge has blurred with the end of the sea. A sea that is choppier now. It froths and crashes maliciously against the outcrop and draws with it the rising winds. I take a step back, a little higher up and away from the water. I turn towards the beach.

But the way back is lost. Impossible, I think to myself, beginning to panic. This can't be. But time has definitely passed. I become aware of a gentle ache in my legs, as if they'd been held in place for a long period of time. My breathing becomes shallower. The outcrop is an island once again, and it stands far out from the shore, alone and dark

in the night. Help! I choke out. Then clear my throat and try again. Help! But there is no response. But it's okay. I still have my phone.

Both hands are occupied. One with the camera, the other with the bone. I step away from the wave as I grab the strap of the camera and my foot splats wetly against the smooth stone. I stumble and slip with a shout and I swing down my hand to protect my face as I fall. to the rocks, smashing the camera hard against the stone in the process. Glass and plastic burst out at all angles as I land on my side, grunting in pain. A wave washes the cold water of the Atlantic up and against my body, and I shiver as I haul myself angrily back to my feet.

The camera is ruined. I swear in frustration and loop the strap around my neck nonetheless, just in case anything can be salvaged once back on land. If you make it back to land, I think. I reach a shaking hand down into my pocket from my phone. Except it's not there. And now I am really starting to panic. I check my other pocket.

I check all four of them. I search through every pocket in my jacket, then I repeat the entire process twice more. But it's not there. The phone I was so sure that I'd remembered is simply not with me. I must have left it behind. My heart bangs like a drum in my chest. I spin round back to the beach, foolishly nearly slipping for a second time and shout again for help.

Help! Please! But the beach is dark and deserted. There's no one. And my calls go unanswered. I swivel, facing west, hyperventilating. I look down at the long, thin, curved bone from the skeleton in my hand. For reasons unknown, I'm still holding it.

A part of me doesn't want to let it go. Something glitters in the sea and catches my eye. I lift my gaze, retreating as far as I'm able. Out there in the dark water, pale blue lights shimmer beneath the surface. Flickering. The froth and ebb and pull of the waves lose their rhythm, or at least they do in the sea right in front of me. And to my horror, a figure begins an ascent from beneath, as if walking on hidden stone steps

he gradually rises. I press my back up against the knife-shaped rock. There's nowhere for me to go. I can only watch in terror as a shimmering, gray-skinned monstrosity strides from the sea. The man. For it is a man, albeit one warped and distorted, wears a torn and tattered, salt-stained robe dripping and wet, though the material might once have been white. His eyes are like those of a great fish, bulging out from the sides of his face.

lidless and staring. He comes to a stop about two meters in front of me. His feet are submerged in the water, but I cannot tell what, if anything, he's standing on. Dear witch. The fishman warbles, revealing a mouth lined with sharp yellow teeth. They're very different to the teeth in the skull of the mermaid skeleton. His are much longer and thinner. A glance down to the base of his robes reveals two shrouded but still visible legs.

They are not of the same stock these two creatures. I stare in silence, still clutching the bone. The creature stares at it and slithers a tongue out over his teeth. His voice is the chill of a winter's wind. You've taken it upon yourself, to tamper with a relic held very dear to our hearts, sinner of the land. I would question why you would do such a thing. I'm sorry.

I didn't mean to. I was just curious as all. Please. I don't know what's happening. I can't blame a soul for a little curiosity. The being replies, she is a beautiful thing after all. But she was not yours to break, yet break her you have, sinner of the land. I'm sorry, I swear I'm no sinner.

We're all sinners. The creature replies, as thunder rolls over the distance sea, I can put it back, I say, swallowing with a dry throat, moving to return the bone to its original place, but the creature's eyes flash and bulge, its lips peel back, and those terrible teeth are revealed with a sharp intake of breath. He puts a hand towards me. A hand that is more of a thin, really. The finger-like appendages held together with thin, translucent, gray webbing. I freeze.

Uh. He says. As it happens, land, sinner. Explore from across the stones. There is a simple way for you to make a simple way. for you to make amends for your trespass, intended or otherwise. The skeleton of the mermaid fair is held in naught but the highest regard amongst my congregation. I would ask that she be returned to us, back to where she belongs.

Her bones belong in our cathedral. Let us take her home. I consider this man, this thing, from beneath the sea. He does not appear outwardly aggressive, but he is a monster, his fine words notwithstanding. If he were to lunge suddenly forwards, to come after me, I think I'd probably collapse with sheer fright. Okay, I reply cautiously, and the man thing twitches, his fin fingers clench. Come take her.

She's yours, I say. Oh, oh, but no, I cannot touch so precious relic myself. Please, just take her bones and gently place them. into the sea by my feet, one by one. Will you do so? Will you agree to these terms? I hesitate. I do this for you and you'll help me. You'll help me get back home. Ah, home is a curious thing. He replies, with a wet hiss that might well have been the edge of of a chuckle, and the wind becomes a little sharper. I laugh nervously in response, but there's no humor in it. With a swirling, crashing, cascading circle of waves out beyond in the

sea, something tall and shadowy rises from the water. It brings with it many of the pale blue lights. It's a spire, I realize, like one you'd see on a cathedral, but black. and twisted. Up it rises, up and out of the sea. I stare at it in terror and wonder. Place the bone at my feet. Then go for the next. Speaks the monster. I back away, eyes darting between him and the impossible spire in the sea. All right, hold on now. Just hold on. I manage in response. Just tell me you'll help me get back to shore. Place the bones into the water. She belongs to us.

We will take care of her." The creature replies, eyes fixated on the rib in my hand. He takes a step towards me. Stay back, I shout, my uncertainty returned, tenfold. Stay back, or I'll break the bone. I'll do it. I'll destroy them all. You could not do so, were you to try?

The creature his his expression remains anxious, however. I can't tell if he's bluffing. I try not to look at the dark spire behind him, far out in the waves. It fills me with a cold and alien dread. I just want to get back to shore. I don't care about any of this. Can you help me get back to the land? Yes or no.

He hisses. You agreed. Place her bones into the water before it is too late. My stomach turns. I become aware that something massive, some colossal and ancient shadow has begun to circle the outcrop upon which I stand. I sense it slithering around and around beneath the dark and frothing waves. The murdered man takes the step towards me.

I jump in fright and brandish the rib like a sword in shaking hands. He backs off at once, almost too quickly, an expression of horror passing fast across his face, you would wield so sacred a relic in such a blasphemous way. You are honorless. He licks his teeth, eyes flickering between my own and the rib. You would fare better, were you to reject the sins of the land and embrace the serenity of the sea. You can begin your redemption by placing the bones of the skeleton into the water. Return her to where she belongs.

Movement catches my eyes out at sea. I glance over the creature's shoulder, and he turns to look as well. Something has leapt out from the waves. Something light in the dark. It was too quick for me to see, but there it is again, appearing near the dark spire. I believe it at first to be a pale dolphin of some kind. But it's not. It's human, or a rough equivalent, with its lower half in the form of a sparkling silver fish.

I look from it to the skeleton, then back. The silver shape strikes the spire as it passes by on its arc, and another of its kind appears from the opposite side. Then another, and another. Dark clusters of black stone are burst from the tower with every assault, and the creature directly in front of me spins back around. He is panicked now. Desperation has seeped into his voice.

He clasps together his hand. before me, soaked and sea-torn robes billowing in the winds. I'll return you to the land, if that's what you want. I'll get you back to shore. We all will. Just please, please, place the skeleton of the mermaid fair into the water. It has to be now, I beg you. But I do not.

Do it. Place her bed. Place her bones into the water, let us take her home. But I follow my gut, and I deny the creature his wish. He hisses and curses. He swears in a language I do not understand, and then he turns. Striding quickly back beneath the churning waters on invisible steps, a wave carries up over his head and crashes at the rock.

by my feet, and he is gone. I carefully return the taken bone to its original place, and it holds. I look back out to the sea and watch the assault on the tower as my hair is whipped about my face. The spire starts to slowly descend, and I watch it disappear from sight as drizzle begins to fall from the sky. that quickly becomes a torrent of freezing rain. The enormous shape that circled the outcrop has departed, I can sense.

It has left me be, for now, but it has been replaced by others. Pale bodies in the water, with silver and shimmering tails. They move too fast and swim too deep for me to get a good look, but they are the creatures that attack the tower, unlike the robed monster with bulging eyes and fish-like fins, these entities remain in the water. They circle me, slowly, but they are watching. They're watching me carefully. I can feel it. I crouched down and huddle against the rock, arms wrapped about my knees, and I look out to the sea. I allow the night to the night to creep by as the rain leaks down my face, drifting in and out of consciousness.

Hour after hour I wait. The temptation to study the mermaid skeleton once again, to draw from it another bone perhaps, is strong. I allow it to wash over me, but I do not let it take hold. And as sure as the sun must rise in the morning, the sun. The sea to my exhausted relief begins to settle. Light returns to the world, and I realize that the creatures that circled the outcrop are circling no more. The tide returns to a level that will allow me to walk all the way back to shore.

A rarity, but one that I do not question and one that I do not take for granted. I clamor to my stiff and aching legs. Then with a grunt, I jump awkwardly from stone to stone and steadily back to the beach. As I do so, I refrain from looking back. I do not know what the creature wanted with a skeleton in truth. Perhaps he was genuine. Though to be honest, I quite doubt it. I do not know what horrors lay hidden.

beneath the waves, horrors that, to my relief, were only merely teased. And I do not know the story behind the skeleton, as much as I wish I did. It's a story that screams to be told, a case that is just begging to be explored. And it's for this reason that when I ask myself if I'll ever return to the outcrop, I think find that I do not know the answer.