Lighthouse Horror Podcast - I Got A Job At A Funeral Home. It Has A Strange List Of RULES | Scary Stories

Episode Date: October 6, 2023

Don't break them.    Story from NormalAlfalfa8523 Make sure to check out more of their work at u/NormalAlfalfa8523                             Original YouTube link: I Got A Job At A Funeral Home. It Has A Strange List Of RULES              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!

When I graduated high school, everyone was shocked when I told them my area of study. Mortuary science isn't exactly the road most traveled. Those closest to me were not surprised, however, since I'd always had an interest in things people tend to view as weird or unusual. I spent a lot of my free time learning about topics related to death, Victorian mourning traditions, plagues, cultural celebrations like Day of the Dead. You get the picture. My dream was to open my own funeral home one day. I enjoyed the solitude and straightforward nature of working with the deceased. Working with grieving families could certainly be tough, but I like to think that giving

the family a good funeral service helps them start their grieving process. I'm no stranger to grief. In seventh grade, my best friend, Lorelei, was hit by a car as she was walking home from school one afternoon. She spent a few days in the hospital, then died from internal bleeding. We'd been best friends since first grade. A lot of people assumed my interest in death started with her, but that's simply not true. I've had a fascination with death for as long as I can remember, and Lorelei was one of the few people who didn't make me feel like I was a freak because of it.

I remember going to her funeral and asking the funeral director some questions on the Somber Drive Hall. I announced to my parents that I wanted to work in a funeral home. They assumed it was a phase for the first year or two. I was lucky to find a job right away in a local funeral home. Hughes Funeral Service. My boss, Scott, who was a retired naval officer, ran a very tight ship, no pun intended. He had a very detailed procedure that needed to be followed to the tea.

My coworkers often found this annoying, But I didn't mind the structure. Towards the end of my training, which all took place during the day and early evening, Scott asked me how I felt about working the overnight shift the next night. I nodded, and I let him know that would be fine. Scott seemed tense and a little skeptical of my request. Working nights here isn't like most places, where you can just goof off because the boss isn't around.

He warned me. If you think there's a lot of rules to follow during the day, you're really in for it at night. Do you think you can handle that? I did my best to reassure him that I took my job very seriously and would do whatever he asked. On my way out, he gave me an envelope and advised me to keep it handy whenever I worked nights. I was told to read it completely before coming in at 10 p.m. for my first night shift. When I arrived home that night, I got the envelope out and began reading. The rules were as follows.

Number one. At the beginning of your shift, place coins over the eyes of the dead. Make sure to complete this task by 11 p.m. Then prop the morgue door open. If at any point you hear a coin drop, lock yourself in the janitor's closet until midnight. At midnight. go directly to the mortuary and make sure everything is back in place. Number two, keep the window next to the main office open.

A black cat will enter at some point during the night. When he arrives, give him a treat from the jar on the desk. When he's finished, the cat will walk over to the empty mortuary rack on the bottom left. Don't ever put a body on this rack. Do not disturb the cat once he's asleep. He will likely remain there until morning. Leave the window open so he can leave whenever he's ready. Failure to complete any of these steps will result in a tall, pale woman wandering around the inside of the building, calling out to him.

This will quickly progress to crying and screaming if she's not able to find the cat. The screaming will continue for the rest of the rest of her. remainder of the night. Number 3. Sometime before midnight, a man in a sailor's uniform will appear in the hallway, staring at the clock. He will talk and mutter to himself. Do not touch him or attempt to speak to him.

If he is interrupted, he will begin bashing his head into the wall. If this occurs, all electronics in the building will malfunction. This is permanent. and they will all need to be replaced. Number four. If you start to smell smoke, don't panic. It's unlikely that the building is on fire. Walk past the parlor to see if there's a family sitting there,

a husband, wife, and two young children. If the family is there, go to the kitchen and prepare coffee for the parents and cups of milk for the children. You may smile and nod to them as you serve. but do not speak to them. If you do this incorrectly, the room will catch on fire, and you will be responsible for any damages. Number five. Finally, the most important rule. If a hearse arrives at 3 a.m., unlock the door, but do not speak to the driver. The driver may look strange,

but do not react to his appearance in any way. The last. The last overnight employee we had didn't follow this rule. He's been missing for over a year. I don't know for sure if this is connected, but I wouldn't take any chances. Okay, I thought. This definitely wasn't what I expected. There's no way this is real. I was a strong believer in the supernatural, but this level of activity in an operating business

was next to impossible. I chuckled at myself. Scott was probably just hazing me. The next night, I went in for my shift. Kate, my co-worker, wished me well. I could hear the trepidation in her voice. I gladly took over and walked her out to her car. The silence of the place after dark hit me.

I put on some music. I glanced at the list unsure of what to do. Surely it was all a prank, but I started to wonder if maybe it was more of a trust exercise versus hazing. Scott was very particular about who he hired and serious about the responsibilities. I decided that this time I would err on the side of caution and follow the rules. I started by grabbing the jar of coins and took them down to the morgue. I placed them on the eyes of each body.

Doing this felt strange. I felt like I was partaking in some ancient ritual. Next, I headed up to the main office. I opened the window just in time. A black cat practically dove inside, making me jump. Hey, I said, gently petting him. He purred and seemed to warm up to me quickly. I gave him a treat, as requested, and he took off to the basement morgue

as the letter said he would. I didn't have much actual work to do this time of night, so I sat and watched some TV on my phone. And then I began to hear something. I paused the show. A low, shallow voice emanated from the hallway. I quietly stepped out of the office. As someone who binge watches horror movies,

I wouldn't say I'm easily scared, but what I saw gave me goosebumps. There was a man standing there, murmuring as he glanced back and forth between the clock on the wall, and a compass he held in his right hand. As I got closer, I could hear what he was saying. There's no way. This can't be right. This has to be north. Why isn't it working?

He wore what looked like a naval uniform that appeared. appeared to be damp. Bits of seaweed dangled from his clothing. At first, I thought this was just Scott playing a trick on me. But I changed my mind as I got closer and I was able to see his face. I knew then this wasn't a prank. The man's face was gray and appeared to be decaying. I was careful not to say anything as I stood there. And then a maggot fell from him. his ear, landing right in front of me. I jumped and very narrowly avoided yelling and grabbing onto him. I backed away, shaking, as I began to realize this may not be a joke. I went back to the office and I tried to calm down. I started doing some busy work to try to keep my mind off things.

The cat came back upstairs and stretched. He sat at my feet for a few minutes before heading. back down to the morgue to finish his nap. And then I heard a faint noise. I jolted. Had a coin dropped? Maybe it was the cat knocking something over, I thought. Still, I hid it to the janitor's closet just to be safe. I sat there for ten minutes.

It was eleven fifty-seven. I hadn't heard any other commotion. got the better of me then. Having a fascination with death and the supernatural made it hard to stay put. I decided to try to take a look into the morgue right before midnight. Even if something supernatural was occurring, it would stop a minute or two after I got down there since the letter said it was safe to exit the closet after midnight. I snuck out. I couldn't hear any noise from the morgue, so I crept down the stairs. To my dismay, the motion light didn't turn on as it always did. I heard a faint, dragging noise. I turned on my phone flashlight and looked around, and nothing

seemed out of place. And that's when I noticed movement in one dark corner. My flashlight didn't help much. The dragging noise stopped and was replaced by cracking. In the darkness of the corner, a thin figure stood up. I recognized it as a body, Scott and I prepared for a showing the previous day. I could feel myself stopped breathing. The bones and cartilage cracked as it rose. Its posture wasn't normal. The spine was curved at an unnatural angle. The body's head practically turned around backwards to face me, and I felt frozen.

A noise that was part hiss, part raspy breathing came from its lips. Its mouth opened unnaturally wide, ripping the wires used to keep the cadaver's mouth closed for the showing. The figure darted towards me. I saw something in its hand then, a hypodermic needle, the same ones we used for embalming. I think the thing was trying to embalm me. I turned and I ran down the stairs. I could hear it crashing after me, bones and cartilage still cracking with every movement.

I felt a cold, stiff hand grabbed my calf, just as I was about to reach the top step. I kicked as hard as I could, but its grip held. Frantically, I shook my leg and I began punching it. And then something shifted. Its grip loosened, and I saw its body. go limp. I looked at the time. Midnight. It took me over an hour just to make sure everything was back in place. What I experienced tonight had me questioning everything I believed about death and the supernatural. I went back upstairs to take a break. I was eating my lunch when I began to

smell smoke. I checked the list. Walking past the parlor, I saw a family sitting there. I saw a family sitting there, as promised. The wife was a lovely woman who appeared to be in her 30s. The husband was tall, with kind eyes. There was a son and a daughter. They both looked around five or six years old, and they were playing some kind of board game, laughing and talking together. I stepped into the kitchen to brew some coffee. I took the small glasses out to get the kid's milk. To my dismay, there was only a little milk left. I went back and forth about what to do for a few minutes, then decided to divide the milk in half between the two glasses. This ended up being about one-quarter cup. I hoped that was enough to fulfill the fourth rule. I walked back into the parlor

and presented the tray to the family without saying a word. The parents graciously accepted the coffee. The children looked at the cups of milk for a moment. moment, before accepting them. The parents seemed to notice. I backed off for a moment, afraid of how they might react. Wow, we really need to go to the store, said the woman. The husband nodded and returned his attention to the game. Breathing a sigh of relief, I backed away and headed back to the office.

I tried to distract myself with a podcast. I'd finished all my actual work earlier in the night, but I still needed something to do to keep busy. An hour or so later, I was starting to feel normal again. I wasn't sure about working the night shift regularly, but I could probably handle this occasionally. And then I heard a knock on the back door. I glanced down at my list. I knew the last rule was arguably the most important.

The last rule read, If a hearse arrives at 3 a.m., unlock the door but do not speak to the driver. Easy enough, I thought. The knock grew louder as I approached the back door. I unlocked it and stepped back. An extremely tall, thin man approached, wearing a long, black trench coat. He wore a hat that covered the majority of his face other than his thin lips and sunken cheeks. He was pushing a stretcher that appeared to have a body with a white sheet over it. He brought the body back to the mortuary and was in the process of bringing the stretcher back

to the hearse when it happened. I noticed a ring of keys fall off the driver's belt loop as he was leaving. I picked them up and impulsively said, Sir. I immediately realized my mistake and covered my mouth, hoping he hadn't heard me. I wasn't that lucky. He slowly turned around and began walking towards me. I stepped back and then I began to run.

I could hear him gaining on me. Suddenly I felt bony arms grabbing onto me. Despite being so thin, the drivers seemed to have superhuman strength, easily overpowering me. He forced a cloth over my mouth and nose. I began dizzy and felt myself slipping away. I felt dazed as my eyes opened again sometime later. I strained my eyes to figure out where I was, but it was pitch black. I went to sit up, but there was no room.

My head hit a wall. I attempted to stretch my arms out beside me, but they hit the side walls of where I lay. I felt a velvet material beneath me. I felt around in my pocket for my phone, and when I found it, I turned down my flashlight. Oh my God, I thought. I'm in a coffin. My hands began to shake, and I felt myself start to hyperventilate. I hated cramped spaces.

I also knew I'd run out of oxygen soon, so I made an effort to slow my brain. breathing. I still felt dizzy from whatever was on that rag, maybe chloroform. I pushed at the top of the coffin and shouted. I tried kicking it open. I tried to dial 911, but my phone had no service. It was no use. I was going to die in here. I started to hear a faint scratching on the top of the coffin. It grew stronger. I began to feel sick, wondering what hell waited for me on the other side of this prison. Was it the body from earlier, waiting to inject and embalm me? The children from the parlor, maybe.

Upset I didn't fill their glasses all the way and ready to set the coffin on fire with me in it. I tried to quiet my breathing as much as possible. Maybe who's the driver? preparing to finish what he started and lower me into the ground alive. I hoped maybe I'd get lucky and run out of air first. I thought back to my lifelong interest in death. What would be waiting for me on the other side? Would I see Lorela again?

I would probably know the answers to these questions soon, and weirdly enough, this helped comfort me. Just as I was accepting my fate, I heard a familiar voice. Damn, it's shadow. What are you digging at? Scott, I yelled. Scott followed my voice to the coffin, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I heard the latches open. His expression looked equal parts confused and horrified. The driver had left me for dead in the back storage room, behind them.

the mortuary in the basement. Scott had left his wallet at work, and since something wasn't right when I didn't greet him from the office. He told me he never would have found me if it wasn't for the cat. Shadow got an extra treat that night. Now you're probably thinking I left this job after all this occurred. And you'd actually be wrong. I continued to work at the funeral home for the next year until I got an opportunity to move. out of state and become a funeral director myself. After my first night shift, I made a habit of placing tape over my mouth at 3 a.m. just in case. And in my time at Hughes, I learned a lot about everyone there, living and dead.

Mrs. Smith, Shadow's owner, came to Hughes when she died two years earlier, and Shadow never stopped showing up to look for her. The Anton family passed in a house fire almost ten years ago, and had a large, well-attended service. As for the man in the naval uniform, cursing his equipment for not working, I never did find a record of anyone matching his description having a service at Hughes. However, the summer before I left, Scott was a few drinks deep at a barbecue, and made a toast to a friend he lost in the Navy. I never felt right asking him about it in more detail. The place was very strange and mysterious, but also beautiful.

Working my last night shift was kind of bittersweet. I was more than happy to never risk being locked in a coffin again, but I knew I'd miss shadow and everybody else I worked with. I did have the displeasure of meeting Mrs. Smith one night, when a new beef, forgot to open the window for shadow and then called me in a panic when she began roaming the halls. Scream, crying. I made it a point to install a cat door. Luckily, no fires or equipment malfunctions happened during my time there. The very last night I worked. The driver arrived as usual at 3 a.m. I already had the tape over my mouth as a reminder not to speak. I unlocked the door and step to

side as usual. He delivered a body, as was typical, then headed back to the hearse. His demeanor was different this time, though. He was a lot slower in his movements, and paused to look at me before leaving, which he'd never done. His red and yellow eyes pierced into mine, and I felt a chill run up my spine. This shouldn't be happening, I thought. We'd never had any interaction except the time I spoke by accident. He continued to stare at me. It was almost like he knew this would be his last time seeing me. I could feel a strong emotion from his expression. It was either anger or guilt. I wouldn't make the mistake of speaking to him again, but I thought of another idea. I grabbed a notebook off the desk and wrote,

What are you? And handed it to him. He looked surprised and began writing, not breaking eye contact to look down at the paper. He handed it back to me, and I reached for it. He grabbed my hand, clamping down on it with the paper. That superhuman strength I remembered. I tried to pull away, but I was taken over by this strange sensation. I wasn't in a funeral home anymore.

I was in the passenger seat of a hearse. The driver was a male in his 30s. It was sunny outside, and he sang along to some 90s song on the radio. He stopped at an intersection, looked around, then began driving forward. All of a sudden, I heard the gut-wrenching sound of metal-on-metal crashing. A car had teaboned him. The driver was bloody and disfigured. I blinked, and I was outside the car then, watching paramedics try to free him.

Eventually he was pronounced dead on the scene and was wheeled away on a stretcher, covered in a white sheet. On the side of the road, there was a woman in her 30s wailing in the arms of the police. And then suddenly I was back in the funeral home, and the driver was gone. At my new job, I never told anyone the details of what went on at Hughes. There was one person who'd always understand, though, and that's my wife, Kate, formerly my co-worker at Hughes. Our funeral home in Georgia is very successful.

I feel I have an air of empathy and respect for the dead that helps families trust me. There are some strange occurrences at times, especially at night. That's okay, though, because I always follow the rules.