Lighthouse Horror Podcast - I found a VHS tape from my childhood. It has a Strange List of Rules | Scary Stories

Episode Date: December 18, 2024

"You need to follow all 6 rules...if you don't, you're not going to make it."  Scary Story exclusively written for the channel by The Lighthouse Horror Team Cover Art from Ninerio More of the artist’s works at ninerioarts         Original YouTube link: I found a VHS tape from my childhood. It has a Strange List of Rules    Merch: lighthousehorror.shop For more stories like this one, check out my YouTube channel: Lighthouse Horror | YouTube  Patreon: Lighthouse Horror | Patreon 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!

When I found the VHS tape, it was buried in a cardboard box at the back of my attic, along with old toys and forgotten school projects. It was unmarked, just a plain black cassette, the kind we used to record birthday parties and Saturday morning cartoons. I didn't remember making it. Hell, I didn't even remember owning a camera at that age. But there it was. dull plastic coated with a thin layer of dust, staring up at me like it had been waiting.

I wasn't sure why I took it downstairs, but something about it felt wrong. It didn't belong with the other junk from my childhood. The moment I touched it, an unsettling thought warmed into my head. I need to watch this. And so I did. The VCR was a relic, buried unseller. under DVDs and tangled cords, but it still worked. I shoved the tape in, pressing play without hesitation, half expecting to see a long-forgotten school play or a grainy family vacation. But what

flickered onto the screen was nothing I could have prepared for. The screen crackled alive, showing a dimly lit room, my old bedroom from when I was 12. Posters of superhero cartoons plastered the walls. The old bedspread, I'd long forgotten, sat rumpled in the background. And there, sitting on the floor in front of the camera, was me, my 12-year-old self. The kid stared straight into the lens, unblinking, his face serious in a way that felt wrong for a boy his age. I felt a shiver creep over me. I looked different from how I remembered. Colder. My eyes seemed too aware, too focused, and then younger me spoke. Happy birthday, older me. I froze. My 32nd birthday was today. I don't know if you remember

making this, but you need to listen to me. This, this is important, the boy on the screen said. I had a bad dream last night, and I think it was more than a dream. It felt, it felt real, and I saw you, I mean me, 20 years from now on our birthday. And I saw something bad happen, something really, really bad. I swallowed, leaning forward, my palm sweating. I couldn't tear my eyes from the screen. I know you probably think this is some kind of prank or a joke. I mean, I would.

The kid continued. But it's not. You need to follow the rules, all six of them. If you don't follow them, you're not going to make it. The words hung in the air, thick with dread. The boy's gaze seemed to pierce through the screen. locking on to me. Rule one, don't leave your house tonight.

No matter what happens, you stay inside. Do not go outside for anything, not even for a second. I felt a lump form in my throat. There was no way I could have made this up at 12 years old. But I didn't remember any of it. None of this seemed familiar. It wasn't like some old memory being jogged by a photo. this was different.

Wrong. Rule 2. At exactly 9.13 p.m., someone's going to knock on your door. Don't answer it. Don't even look at the door. Just ignore it, no matter how many times they knock. I checked the clock. It was already 8.45 p.m.

My mouth went dry. Rule 3. At 9.30, the lights are going to flicker. When that happens, go to your bedroom and stay there until midnight. Don't come out, no matter what you hear. Not until midnight. I felt a cold sweat break across my forehead. The boy's voice never wavered. As if he was completely certain of what he was saying, my pulse quickened, and I forced myself to listen, but my brain was screaming for me to turn to the TV off and just throw the tape away. This couldn't be real. I mean, it just couldn't.

Rule four, the boy said. If you hear a voice calling your name, any voice, even someone you know, ignore it. Don't talk to it. Don't go looking for it. Just stay where you are. The room felt colder. My fingers hovered over the remote, but I couldn't stop watching. Every word seemed to pull me deeper into something I didn't understand. Rule 5. At exactly 11.07 p.m., you're going to hear something break in the kitchen. Don't check on it. Don't even go near it. It's going to get you if you come out. I couldn't take this anymore. I paused the tape. The screen freezing on my younger self's very serious face. My hands were trembling.

None of this made sense. How could I have recorded something like this and not remember it? More importantly, how could a 12-year-old version of me know what would happen on my 30-second birthday? I stood up and paced the living room, glancing at the clock again, 8.52 p.m. Every minute that ticked by felt like a countdown and a small part of me, against all logic, believed the tape. I shook my head, trying to shake off the growing anxiety. But then I heard it. A soft knock on the front door.

My heart skipped the beat. I whipped around staring at the door. This was too early. The kid had said nine-thousy. There was no way this could be happening yet. Another knock. Louder this time. I swallowed hard.

It's just a coincidence. I told myself, someone probably got the wrong house, you know, or maybe it was a package delivery. That's all, that's all, you know. The knocks weren't a warning, but I didn't move anyway. I didn't dare answer it.

The knocking stopped after a few seconds. Leaving me in silence, I waited for a full minute, listening to the quiet house, my nerves frayed. Nothing else came. Slowly, I sat back down and pressed play on the tape. My younger self hadn't moved an inch, but now he was staring harder, like he knew what had just happened. Rule six, the boy said. At midnight, you have to destroy the tape.

Burn it, break it, I don't care, but don't watch it again. If you do, it'll know you're still here. I leaned forward. My breath's shallow. I don't know I'm still here. What the hell did that mean? The boy leaned in closer to the camera. His eyes wide.

Pupils dilated, as if he was seeing something. terrifying just out of view. Please, older me, just do what I say. I don't want to die. And then the screen went black. I sat there, staring at the darkened TV, my mind racing. I felt like I just stepped into a nightmare I couldn't wake up from. Every instinct screamed at me, that this was all some elaborate trick, that there was no

way a 12-year-old version of myself had recorded something like this. But the way the kids spoke, the way he looked at me, it felt real. I checked the time again. 9.08 p.m. The knocks weren't supposed to come for another five minutes, but now I was terrified they might come sooner. My entire body tensed as I stood up, pacing in front of the door. Maybe this was a prank. Maybe it wasn't, but I couldn't shake the sense of dread hitting me. It was like a weight pressing down on my chest, suffocating any rational thought I had left. And then, at exactly 9.13 p.m., the knocking started again. This time, it was slow. deliberate. Three knocks. A frozen place, staring at the door, heart pounding. My mind flashed

to the tape. Don't answer it. Don't even look at the door. And I forced myself to move away. I backed up until I was pressed against the far wall, staring at the door like it might burst open any second. The knocking continued. Steady and insistent. I clenched my fist, every muscle in my body screaming at me to run, to hide, to do something. But I didn't move. I couldn't. The knocks kept coming louder now, four, five, six. And then they stopped.

Silence. For a long moment, I stood there, too afraid to even breathe. I didn't know what I'd expected to happen, but the silence felt worse than the knocking. I waited, heart-raising, but no other sounds followed. No footsteps, no voices. Nothing. I looked at the clock again. 9.15 p.m. I had 15 minutes before the lights were supposed to flicker. I didn't want to believe it, but something deep inside me told me that the boy on the tape hadn't been lying. I needed to get to my bedroom now. I bolted up the stairs two at a time, slamming the bedroom door behind me. My breath came in short, ragged burst as I leaned against

the door listening. The house was silent. Too silent. I glanced around the room, feeling a strange sense of deja vu, the same layout, the same bed, the same. The same. The same. same dresser. It was like stepping back in time. I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the clock, 929. I waited. The silence stretched on thick and heavy, and then right on cue, the lights flickered. Just once, barely a second. The lights flickered again longer this time. I stared at the bulb overhead, heart hammering. It was a normal flicker, you know, the kind you'd see if the power was unsteady or during a storm. But there was no storm.

The weather was calm, the night clear. That fact alone made it worse. It felt deliberate. The third flicker wasn't like the others. The room plunged into darkness for a solid ten seconds. I held my breath, straining to hear any sound, any sign of movement. And then the light snapped back on, and I almost jumped out of my skin. There was someone standing in the corner of my room.

I didn't see him at first, just a shape, tall and unnaturally still. The second my eyes focused, I froze. It wasn't human. It couldn't be. Its neck was all the way bent to the side. It stood perfectly still. Its face, if it had one, I couldn't see in the light. But I could feel it was looking at me.

For a long, paralyzing moment, I could move. I was locked in place, my mind struggling to process what I was seeing. this thing, whatever it was, it wasn't supposed to be here. The tape hadn't warned me about this. I forced myself to blink, hoping it would just go away, that my eyes were playing tricks on me in the dark. But when I opened them, it had moved. Not a lot, but closer.

I could see its legs now, elongated, bending in ways human legs shouldn't bend. The thing didn't shuffle or step. It was just there, closer than it had been a second before. I stumbled back, nearly tripping over my bed. I could feel panic rising in my throat like bile. My eyes darted to the clock. 9.32 p.m.

I still had hours to go before midnight. I couldn't stay in here with you. this thing, but I couldn't leave either. The boy on the tape had been clear about that. I looked back at the figure. It had shifted again, now halfway across the room towards me. The way it moved, it was as if time itself bent around it, like it existed somewhere else, unaffected by normal laws of movement. One second, it was far, the next it was closer. What could I even do? This thing wasn't, it wasn't right.

The lights flickered once more, and this time the figure was gone, just gone. And the relief was instantaneous, but short-lived. The door to the hallway slammed shut with a deafening bang. I spun around staring at the door. My hand reached for the knob instinctively, but I stopped myself just inches from touching it. My younger self's voice echoed in my mind, don't come out, no matter what you hear. A heavy thump came from the other side of the door, like something huge had just thrown itself against it.

My breath stopped, and I took a step back. The doorknob rattled, turning as if someone knows something. was trying to open it from the other side. The air in the room felt thick. Every instinct screamed at me to run to try and escape, but I couldn't. I had to listen to the tape and stay here until midnight. Another thud shook the door.

Harder this time. The wood groaned under the force, and I swore I could hear the faint scrape of nails, or maybe claws against it. I backed further into the room, my eyes flicking to the windows. But they were too small to climb through, and even if I could, I had no idea what was waiting for me outside. I looked at the clock again. 9.40.

My God, time was crawling. The door rattled again, harder this time, like something was trying to break it down. My eyes darted around the room looking for a weapon. And then the noises stopped. Silence. I stood there frozen, my ears straining to hear anything. For a few moments there was nothing. No scraping, no thudding, no rattling.

And then I heard a voice. Open the door, honey. I recognized it instantly. My mother's voice. The same mother who had died ten years ago. Please, honey, it's okay. It's me. Open the door. I'll help you. The sound of her voice was like a knife in my chest. For a split second, I almost believed it. I think I wanted to. Almost. But then the memory of the tape came rushing back. If you hear a voice calling your name, any voice? Even someone you know, ignore it. Don't talk to it.

it, don't go looking for it. My body was trembling. The voice on the other side of the door was soft, pleading. It was just like I remembered her. But there was something off about it, a subtle distortion, like it had been stretched too thin, too strained. Please. The voice repeated, more insistent now.

I need you to open. open the door. I need to see you. I backed up until I hit the far wall, pressing my palms against the cold surface, trying to ground myself in the reality of my surroundings. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the voice to just stop. But it didn't. It kept going, the words growing more desperate, more twisted. The voice that had once brought me comfort and now made me scared. My mother's sweet tone warped, becoming guttural, barely human. You can't hide from me forever.

It said, the word scraping through the air like metal on bone. I'll find you. I'll get in. I put my hands over my ears, trying to block out the sound. But it was inside my head now. crawling through my brain. I pressed harder, gritting my teeth. And then, just as suddenly as it started, the voice stopped.

I opened my eyes, my body shaking. The silence almost felt worse than the noise. I stood there for a long time waiting for the next sound, the next sign that something was coming for me. But nothing came. I glanced at the clock, 10.15 p.m. It had barely been an hour since the knocking started, and I'd almost lost my mind. How was I supposed to survive another two hours of this? I slumped to the floor, my back against the wall, trying to calm my breathing.

The house was still, like it was holding its breath along with me. and that's when I heard the footsteps, not from the hallway this time. They were coming from inside my room. I shot to my feet as I whipped around to face the source of it, and the figure was back, standing in the corner again, but now it was much closer. It was clearer now. The thing had no face.

There was nothing there. But it was staring at me. I couldn't explain how I knew because it didn't have eyes, but I could feel it watching me, studying me, like it was waiting for something. And we stood there, neither of us moving. My brain wanted to run, but I couldn't. And then it took a step towards me. I stumbled back hitting the dresser.

Stay back, I said, my voice shaking. But it didn't stop. Didn't even slow down. It just kept coming. I grabbed the nearest thing I could, a lamp, and I swung it as hard as I could. It shattered against the thing's body, but it didn't react. It just kept coming. I backed up until I hit the wall and there was nowhere left to go.

The thing was inches away now. Now, its head tilting down toward mine, that blank face right up against mine. I could feel its breath hot and terrible on my skin, even though it didn't even have a mouth. And then it spoke. The lights turned off then. And when they came back on, it was gone. I collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath. touching my arm where the thing had touched me.

The skin was ice cold but unmarked. No burns, no cuts, but I could still feel it as I lay on the floor. For a few moments, I couldn't do anything but breathe, trying to convince myself it was over that it wasn't coming back. The clock on the nightstand read 1025. There was no way. I could last another hour and a half of this. But I didn't have a choice.

I had to survive. The kid on the tape, me, had given me the rules. All I had to do was follow them. The next one would come at 11.07, the sound in the kitchen. I had to hold on until then.

Forcing myself to my feet, I walked over the door, and I pressed my ear against it. The house was silent again. No more knocks, no more voices. But the silence still felt wrong. It was the kind of silence you find in a place where something is waiting. I backed away from the door, and I sat on the bed.

The faceless figure wasn't here anymore, at least not for now, but that feeling was still in the air. I had no idea what else was coming, but I had to be ready for it. I checked the clock again, 1040. Time moved so slowly. I kept my eyes fixed on the bedroom door, my muscles tensed, ready for whatever might happen. But I couldn't relax, not even for a second. Finally, the minute hand inch toward 1107. I held my breath.

The boy on the tape had said something would break in the kitchen, and then it would try to lure me out. Right on time the sound came. A loud crash, like dishes shattering. It was so sharp, so sudden, that I nearly bolted off the bed before I remembered the warning. I froze. Don't check on it. Don't even go near it? For several minutes I just sat there listening to the noise.

More crashes followed. Pots and pans, the distinct sound of glass shattering. The kitchen must have been a wreck by now. And then came the voice. Hey, man, I know you're in there. Come on, let me in, huh? It sounded like my friend Jim from high school. Someone I hadn't thought about or talked to

for years. But his voice was off, you know. And there was something underneath the tone, something hungry. Oh, come on, man. It's been a long time. I'm dead now, you know. But it's all right. Come on out. Everybody dies, you know. You're going to die. Hell, probably tonight, huh? Hey, sorry about the dishes. You know, let's play some video games. Man, I have not played video games since... Man, how long's it been? Well, I guess since I died, huh? Silly me.

I didn't respond. I didn't move. I sat perfectly still just watching the clock. Oh, come on, man. We're really doing this? The voice began again. All right, look, tell you what. You come down here and I will save your life, all right?

You saw it, didn't you? It was in your room, wasn't it? That's what got me. I didn't know what it wanted, and it kept coming back. It got me. Look, tell you what, you come down now. I'll help you. I'll tell you what it wants.

If you don't, well, it's going to eat your face, buddy. Like it ain't mine. I stared at the door. And then the voice finally stopped. The crashing sounds faded away, leaving the house in that eerie silence again. I checked the clock, 11.30 p.m. I was almost there 30 more minutes. The last half hour was torture.

Every creek of the house made my skin crawl. Every tick of the clock seemed too loud, too slow. And then the figure appeared again. The lights flickered, and it was just there, right in front of me this time. I ran. I opened the door, bolted down the steps, but I slipped on the last one. I rolled my ankle or broke it, but I kept moving. I limped into the kitchen, and I was looking for a place to hide or a way to get out.

When I felt the thing reach out and grab me, its grip was ice cold. It was pulling me away. I reached around for something, anything to hold on to. And the only thing I could grab was the refrigerator door. I grabbed onto it, and it pulled open. The thing was grabbing me harder now, and my grip was just about to slip, when the thing just stopped. As it let me go, I fell backwards towards the fridge, and I looked back. at the thing. It wasn't staring at me anymore. It was looking into the fridge. I followed its face.

There was a plate of pasta, a gallon of milk, some old tuna fish, and a leftover piece of strawberry birthday cake from this afternoon. My co-workers had thrown me a quick birthday party. The creature stood perfectly still, like it was frozen. in time. Its eyeless face tilted right towards the cake, and I took a guess. What the hell else could I do? I reached into the fridge, pulled out the plate of cake, and slowly extended my hand towards the thing. We stayed like that for a moment. And then the creature reached out with a long, bony limb, and very gently took the plate from my hands. I just watched, in a mix of shock and horror and confusion, as the thing scooped a pile of cake

onto its left hand and smeared it all over its face. It didn't have a mouth, but it seemed to be enjoying it anyway. Cake. It said. and then the lights flickered, and it was gone. I looked over at the clock exactly midnight. I waited holding my breath, expecting something else to happen. But nothing did.

The house remained still the air heavy with the sense that I'd just passed some terrible test. I exhaled a long, shaky breath. I'd done it. I'd survived. The rules had been followed every one. I collapsed back on the bed, my entire body shaking with exhaustion and relief. It was over. I'd survived my 32nd birthday. I glanced at the clock again, watching as it ticked over to 1201, a new day. I was safe. The weight that had been pressing on my chest finally lifted. I felt like I could breathe again. I sat up, rubbing my face, my mind racing with everything that just happened.

None of it made sense, but I couldn't deny what I'd seen. The faceless figure? The voice at the door? The thing that had called itself my mother. It had all been real. And I'd followed the rules. just like younger me on the tape had told me to. I laughed, a dry, bitter sound, more out of disbelief than anything else.

I had survived, sure, but barely. What the hell had all been about? And why had I, my younger self, known it would happen? There were no answers, just more questions. But at least I was alive. I stood up, my leg shaky, my ankle killing me, but functional. And I looked around. The house was a mess.

Dishes were everywhere, chairs overturned, the cupboards flung open as if something had been searching through them. But I didn't care. It was over. The last thing the boy on the tape had said echoed in my mind. At midnight, you have to destroy the... tape. Burn it, break it, I don't care, just don't watch it again. I turned to the living room, where the TV was still on, the static hissing softly from the old VCR. The tape, yeah, I needed to get rid of it. The kid me had been right about everything else. There was no reason to doubt

him now. I pulled the tape from the VCR, my hands trembling as I carried it outside. There was an old fire pit in the backyard. And I threw the tape in without hesitation. It landed with a dull thud, and I grabbed a box of matches from the porch. My hands were still shaking as I struck one and tossed it into the pit. The flames caught quickly, licking up the signs of the tape. I watched as the plastic began to warp and melt the tape inside, curling and bubbling in the heat. I stayed there. watching until it was nothing more than a pile of smoldering black goo. It was over. Finally.

I went back inside, shutting and locking the doors behind me, still half expecting to hear more knocks, more voices. But there was only silence. Real silence this time, not the oppressive kind that had filled the house earlier. I sat down on the couch, burying my face in my hands, exhaustion crawling over me like a wave. I was about to lie down to let the relief wash over me completely. When I noticed something out of the corner of my eye, another box. It was sitting on the floor near the stairs, the same box I'd found the first tapes in.

I felt a cold knot form in my stomach as I stood up, slowly walking over to it. I knew what I was going to find before I even opened the box, but I opened it anyway, hoping, praying that I was wrong. Inside the box, sitting right on top of the other junk, was another VHS tape. My breath caught in my throat. I stared at it. It was the same, black, unmarked, identical to the one I just destroyed. My hands shook as I reached for it. But I stopped myself, pulling back as if the tape was covered in poison.

I didn't want to touch it. I didn't want to know. But I had to. I grabbed the tape. tape, my fingers trembling as I slid it into the VCR. The screen flickered, and after a few seconds of static, the image appeared. It was me again, the same 12-year-old version of me, sitting on the floor in that same room. He looked at the camera, his face even more serious than before. "'Hi, older me,' the boy said, his voice quieter this time.

"'He made it. I'm glad.' He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned closer to the camera. "'But this isn't over.' "'My heart sank as I heard that. "'He need to follow the next rules,' the boy continued. This time, it's not just for one night. It's the whole year. And then the screen went black.

I stood there, frozen. I felt like the walls were closing in. Another year? I had to survive this shit for another year.