Lighthouse Horror Podcast - I got a job at Disneyland. They have STRANGE RULES | Scary Stories

Episode Date: August 26, 2024

Do NOT break the rules!  Scary Story exclusively written for the channel by Annie R. Cover Art from Ninerio More of the artist’s works at ninerioarts               Original YouTube link: I got a job at Disneyland. They have STRANGE 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!

Don't go to Disney if you can't follow the rules. My brother died at Disney about 40 years ago. Well, technically, it was at River Country. Not many people have heard about it, but it was the first water park Disney ever built way back in the day. Opened in 76. It was supposed to be this big thing, you know, a slice of old-timey swimming holes mixed with that Disney magic.

People loved it. it, at least at first. It wasn't as fancy as the other parks, but that just made it feel more real, like the magic was closer to home. It had these cool rock slides, pools with sandy bottoms, and this huge man-made lagoon. They even had a tire swing over the water. It's like Disney plucked out the image of the perfect lakeside vacation straight out of your head. But then stuff started happening. Mostly around the staff, getting involved in weird accidents. Didn't make the news much. Disney's good at keeping things quiet. But they couldn't keep the stories from reaching the nearby towns. Let's just say it wasn't unusual to see a Disney cast member M-E-E-R in those days. Still,

people loved River Country. And then people started dying. A lot of the details around their deaths were kept out of the press. They said it was out of respect to the grieving families. Sure. And I'm sure the NDAs were part of Disney being respectful. Things calmed down after a while, but the accidents continued to pile up. Getting assigned to work at River Country, it became like a prison sentence. Disney eventually did close down the park. They said there wasn't enough demand for it to open. That I can believe. Staff injuries were fine, as long as the place was still making money, apparently. So now it's just been sitting there all this time, just rotten away. People forgot about it, or they tried to. But you know how stories are. They don't ever really die.

Rumors started cropping up about why it was really closed. Some said it was the water. Others thought it was cursed, haunted by the dead. Disney tried to bury it, cover up all traces like it never existed. They put up fences, big ones, with padlocks and no trespassing signs all over. The mouse tried to make everyone forget, like it never happened. But how could I forget my own brother? Tommy was just a kid, man, 10 years old. And he always had that look in his eyes like everything was an adventure. And then one day, he just wasn't there anymore.

That summer we went to River Country, it was a big deal for us. My folks didn't make a ton of money. Vacations. They were like finding a 20 in an old pair of jeans, you know, rare and exciting. So when they told us we were going to Disney World, Tommy and I, we lost our minds. We were bouncing off the walls, counting down days like it was the lead up to Christmas. We didn't even care that it was just at River Country. Growing up near Disney World in Florida and being too poor to go, it always felt like

a bad joke as a kid. I remember packing into our old station wagon. crammed in so tight, you couldn't see out the back window. The drive felt like forever. Me and Tommy made up games to pass the time. I spy got old fast, so we invented stories about the stuff we'd do at River Country. When we finally got there, it was like stepping into another world. The place had this vibe, you know, we couldn't get our swim trunks on fast enough.

day, man. It was perfect. The sun was shining, the water was cool, and those slides, those slides were something else. Tommy. He was fearless, always a couple steps ahead, daring me to follow him on the biggest slides. And I did. Every time. Our parents were happy to stay by the picnic tables. Just to watch us having the time of our lives, mom had this smile the whole day. Dad tried to act all cool and collected, but even he couldn't resist trying out the tire swing. It was like we were a perfect picture family, complete with pets. Yeah, so apparently Disney liked to keep a few cats around for pest control, the staff explained. And we'd never had pets before. So getting to pet as many as I want was like the perfect

cherry on top. We stayed until they practically had to kick us out. It was one of those golden memories, you know. Everything felt right in the world. And that'd be the last time we'd all be together. Happy like that. After what happened to Tommy, things, well, they just weren't the same. After that trip to River Country, something changed in my little brother.

He got sick, but not like any cold or flu we'd ever seen. He was always thirsty, drinking water like it was going out of style. And he wouldn't stop talking about swimming, about going back to river country, about how the water felt. It started slow. At first it was just him being more tired than usual. But then the thirst kicked in. He'd drink glass after glass.

of water, and it was never enough. You'd find him at night, just standing over the sink. He'd be gulping it down, like he'd never seen water before. It was odd watching him. He'd always been the feisty one, always moving, always laughing. But as the days went by, he grew quieter. And then he started to avoid food, only wanting water. Didn't matter what we did. Nothing worked. His eyes grew sunken and desperate. And after a few days, his body just started wasting away. It was heartbreaking seeing him like that. Mom and dad took him to doctors, lots of them. But they all just scratched their heads. They ran tests, asked questions, gave him. him a bunch of drugs, even hooked him up to a feeding tube. But Tommy just kept getting skinnier,

paler. It was like he was fading away right in front of us, and no one could figure out why. The only thing that could perk him up was water. Medical bills started piling up fast. I had to grow up a lot quicker than I would have, and we eventually had to take Tommy. home. The night he disappeared, it was like any other Tuesday, but we all went to bed like usual. But Mom, she was really worried about my brother. She barely got any sleep because she'd check on him throughout the night. It was during one of these rounds that she found Tommy's bed empty. His Donald Duck curtains torn away from the open window. Panic set in fast. I woke up to the sounds of mom crying into the phone as she dialed 911.

Police showed up immediately and put out an alert. Mom and dad went around town, calling for Tommy. They knocked on people's doors, called other people's parents, and checked for any place a 10-year-old might head to. At that point, they didn't want to think about the possibility that Tommy was taken. They were still holding on to the hope that maybe he just ran away. And then as dawn broke, we got a call from the police. They found Tommy's sweater.

It was by one of the pools at River Country. It was torn up and covered in cat hair. Seemed like one of the local cats was using it as a blanket. But that was all they found. Everyone was baffled. How did such a sick kid manage to walk that far on his own? And the park was locked up for the night. Yet somehow, Tommy got in.

It didn't make any sense. But the police said that Disney was willing to help. They'd let the police bring in search parties, as long as they didn't hurt any of the cats that live in the park. cops and volunteers combed the place until sundown. My parents had to be dragged out when the place had to close for the night. And this went on for a week. They even spread out to the woods around river country.

They never found any other trace of Tommy. No other sign that he was even at the park at all. It was like he just vanished. Some men in suits came up after that. They offered my parents a deal to just keep this whole thing quiet. And my parents were furious. Everything started going wrong after our trip, and they blamed it all on Disney. There must have been something in the water that it made Tommy sick.

But we had no choice. We were drowning in debt by then, and my parents needed the hush money. It tore us apart, you know. Losing Tommy like that and being forced to keep quiet about it. My family never really moved on from it. We were always tense around each other after that. We later found out. Tommy wasn't the only deaf linked to river country.

There were other kids who also died under mysterious circumstances. People started whispering about some brain-eating amoeba in the water And Disney, they latched onto that story like a lifeline, blaming everything on it. So fast forward a bunch of years, and life's taking me places I never thought I'd go, ended up working for a security firm. It's your standard rent-a-cop place. Not glamorous, but it paid enough for someone who only had a high school diploma. And then one day I got this job order.

It was paying way above our usual. raid. That was because it was a job from the Big Mouse himself. Disney wanted a night watchman. And guess where? Yep, river country. Their current guy was retiring, and they needed a replacement. Despite the generous offer, nobody really wanted the job. Any facilities the resort had were long gone. That means no electricity. running water and no cozy employee lounge. Any watchman would have to set up a makeshift camp on site and bring lots of bug spray. The job order included a massive budget to cover any supplies we'd need, enough for a decent sized tent, a generator, a stove, and as much food and water as we could

carry. The company would be happy to reimburse us anything else we'd need. I was the only one willing to take this job. My dad had just had a stroke. I needed the money to cover bills. And besides, I figured it might give me some closure, you know. I don't know, if I confronted the place that took my brother, maybe I could finally let go of the anger, of the guilt. As soon as I volunteered, my boss gave me the job packet.

along with the old watchman's contact details. He was a guy named Robert, and he's retiring after being on the job for 12 years. I texted the number and was told to show up to this diner downtown for my training. Robert was this tall, thin dude with wrinkles. You could tell he'd seen some stuff. He drank coffee like his life depended on it. Jed, he said, handing me a beat-up flashlight. Keeping people out of there, it's more important than you think, especially when it gets dark.

And then he pulled out a map of the place. It was old and worn, with notes written all over it, in the bottom right corner, was a list of rules. Rule number one, do not talk to Mickey. He pointed to an X by the entrance. Might sound funny, but trust me on this, it's bad luck, son. I nodded. Every gig has its superstitions. You don't question them if you want to get along with the people you're working with.

Rule number two, remove any tools you see lying around. He glanced around, like the ground might sprout a hammer or something. Tools left out can cause problems, he said. He told me that as soon as I see any during my rounds, I should take it out of the resort. He left me a toolbox with a heavy-duty padlock on the job side. I was to take any tools and dump them in there. Make sure you don't ever leave that box unlocked, Jed. This is all to keep you safe, all right?

He explained. Rule number three, do not cross the river. Try not to even look at it. Nothing good comes from paying it any mind. Now, I know I haven't been to the place since I was a kid, but I don't think there was actually a river in the park. Robert must have seen the confusion on my face, because he gave me this look that told me I shouldn't even bring it up.

I mean this one, Jed, you'll know it when you see it. He said with finality before moving to the last rule. And rule number four, when you get lost, follow the cats. Okay, so that one caught me off guard. Those cats know this place better than anyone," he continued. Before I could really process that, Robert clapped me on the shoulder a bit too hard. All right, well stick to these and you'll be all right, he said. Before leaving me.

Well, like I said, every job's different. Being in night guards, pretty boring job, honestly. I suppose these rules Robert had were more about making him feel like he's actually doing something. I spent the rest of the day packing up for my first shift. I bought a tent, lots of water, some flare guns, and a sleeping bag. They'd said that they'd leave a boat for me at the dock. Felt kind of weird, heading to a job on a boat, but okay.

The ride over was calm. Just me and the sound of the water. When I landed, it was straight into the wilderness. The path to river country was choked with weeds and vines, like I was the first person to walk through in ages. Finally, I hit the entrance. Man, it was a mess. The sign that used to welcome everyone was so faded,

you could barely tell what it was. It just hung there, looking tired and beaten. The little buildings and booths near the entrance were all fallen apart. Roofs caved in, wood rotted through. Everything was covered in a layer of grime and moss. In the air, there was this weird mix of smells, rust, mold, and a faint hint of chlorine. I set up my camp right near the entrance. Seemed like a good spot.

Close enough to see if anyone tried to sneak in. The sun was getting low by the time I finished. I figured I should make my first round of the park while it was still light enough to see. Near the entrance was this old statue of Mickey Mouse. He had a wide, welcoming smile, his arms reaching towards the resort. But man, time had not been kind to Mickey.

The paint on him was peeling off in big chunks, showing the gray beneath. Parts of him were just crumbling away, like he was slowly turning to dust. A huge black cat was asleep by his feet. Well, I pulled out the map Rob gave me, trying to get a sense where to head first. that's when I noticed something odd. According to the map, Mickey's statue was supposed to be on the other side of the entrance. I glanced back at the statue, then down at the map again. Well, that's weird, but I shrugged it off. I was getting a pretty good idea of why Rob had to retire. I gave the statue a pat on its head, expecting it to fall apart under my hand.

It felt cold and slightly damp. The cat's tail twitched in its sleep, and I bent down to pet it. Hey there, buddy. Keep an eye on things for me, will you? I said. I briefly wondered if that counted as breaking the first rule. If Disney had some sort of camera system to check, I'd say I was talking to the cat. I walked around, and the map Rob gave me wasn't adding up.

He'd marked spots where certain structures should be, but they either weren't there, or they were completely different from what the map said. The whole park was a mess. Everywhere I looked, things were rotting or crumbling away. The place was overgrown with weeds and bushes that were almost as tall as I am. thick carpets of leaves and vines covered the ground the pools were crawling with mold and they smelled awful and there were a lot more Mickey Mouse statues around here than I remembered wasn't just the one at

the entrance there were a ton of them just scattered around all in different poses and costumes Here and there I'd see cats. And as I moved deeper into the park, I kept hearing this grinding sound, like concrete scraping against something. These buildings were falling apart all around me. I couldn't help but think about all the safety violations this job was putting me through. So much for OSHA standards. And that's when I saw it.

right there in the middle of the path, a screwdriver, but not just any screwdriver. This one looked shiny and new. I remembered Rob's second rule, and I stopped. Okay, why was there a brand new screwdriver just sitting here? It almost seemed like it was left there on purpose. I picked it up, feeling its weight in my hand. I turned around to make my way back to the entrance. This must be some sort of test to see if I could follow instructions, right?

They'll probably check the toolbox after my shift to see I did it. As I walked back, those grinding noises kept up surrounding me. The whole place was going to fall apart right before my eyes. But deep down, a part of me wasn't so sure that was it. It all sounded too deliberate. When I finally got back to the entrance, that's when I noticed something really weird. Mickey, the statue, it wasn't like how I remembered. Before, he was looking out to the path, ready to welcome kids into the park.

But now, he was turned towards the gate. gate. Like he was waiting for me to come back out. My heart jumped. There must have been someone else here. Hazing, training, whatever they want to call it. That was it. That, that, that had to be it. I quickly locked up the screwdriver and Rob's toolbox. I decided to play by their rules. I heard how controlling Disney can be with their staff, you know. All to keep the magic alive. They wanted people who can follow rules, even if they didn't make a lot of sense. I figured it was just some sort of test.

But just when I calmed down, I heard a noise that made me look back over my shoulder. It came from inside the park. It was getting real dark now, but I could see something shining in the distance. I walked closer and I saw a hammer, shiny and new like the screwdriver from earlier. The hammer was by the feet of another Mickey statue, as if it had dropped it. And then off to the side, I could just make out footsteps that sounded like they were running away from me. There was someone else in here. Maybe some kid looking for a thrill or someone wanting to take a piece of the park home.

Or, I don't know, it could all just be part of the test. Feeling a bit more like I had a real job to do, I followed the sound. Hey, I called out. You're not supposed to be in here. It was fully dark now. I had to use my flat. flashlight to get around. One wrong move, and I could step on a rusty nail or fall into an empty pool. Every now and then, I'd catch the sound of footsteps, just out of reach. It was like playing a game of

tag with a ghost. I was deep into river country now. More trees started blocking my way. At this point, it felt more like a forest than a family resort. And every now and then, I'd spot a Mickey Mouse statue. They were everywhere. In the middle of paths, clustered around trees, lined up in rows, dozens of them. But they weren't the regular kind of Mickey statues you'd find in the bigger parks. No, these things were weird.

arms too long, joints bent at odd angles, sunken eyes. The deeper I went, the more Mickeys I found. Some of them really didn't belong in a water park. One had a torn-up Santa outfit draped over it. Another was painted all wrong. Its colors looking like a photo-negative version of Mickey. But the one that really stopped me in my tracks was this Mickey dressed like he was ready for a safari. He was holding a machete that looked way too real for comfort. And all of them still had that iconic Disney grin.

I wondered if Disney was using this place as some sort of dumping ground. Some of these had to be rejects. There was even one that didn't have a head. And the whole time those footsteps kept going on, with the occasional laugh floating back to me. Well, I'm glad this intruder was having a great time leading me around. I could hear heavy breathing now too. Whoever it was must be getting tired.

But no matter how much I ran. The figure was always just outside my flashlight. Meanwhile, the statues I passed by got stranger. They were of all shapes and sizes now. One was Mickey dressed as a clown. Its makeup was smeared, and in its hand was a balloon. But instead of floating, it just sagged to the ground. Another was a really fat one, not in a cute, chubby way.

Instead, its stomach bulged out across a path. Its face was bloated and blue. Vains ran all over it, straining against its bulk. It looked like a drowning victim. I knew it was made of nothing but cement. But man, the way its flesh folded. and stretched, it looked disturbingly realistic. I wondered who the hell would make something like that out of concrete.

And then I heard it, the sound of rushing water. I brushed past some weeds to see an actual river, flowing right there in the middle of the park. Some benches lay broken by the bank. Now, despite the name, River Country wasn't supposed to have any rivers, just pools and slides, and there weren't any rivers near this place. Or, at least, there weren't supposed to be. I fished out Rob's map.

I looked closer, and I saw a little squiggly line in the middle of the park. Rob left a note next to it that said, River starts here. I'd brushed it off earlier, thinking he was just being poetic or something. But the old geyser wasn't joking. And there, right by the riverbank stood another one of those weird Mickey Mouse statues. But this one caught my eye for another reason. Its smile was the same bright, happy one as all the rest.

One of his hands was raised up, bald into a fist, and in its gloved hand was the hammer I forgot to pick up earlier. And that's what actually broke me, because this wasn't a themed statue. It didn't make any sense for a regular Mickey to be holding something like that. That's it, I'm out. Rob would have to cancel his retirement. I backed away slowly. I turned my head, and that's when I felt something brush against me. And I heard a high-pitched whisper in my ear.

Panic took over. I broke into a full sprint, desperate to get out of this place. The bushes and vines seemed to have grown thicker. They tangled around my legs. they almost tripped me a few times and the Mickey's they were everywhere now even more than before

some were even up in the trees like they were waiting to jump on me I almost ran into a few of them and this whole time I kept hearing the grinding noises they surrounded me from all directions But no matter which way I turned, or how fast I ran, I kept finding myself back at the river's edge.

The park shouldn't be this big! I pulled out the map again, hoping Rob left me a clue. The landscape around me, it looked all wrong. Nothing matched up. I looked back down at the note about the river. I followed the squiggly line until I saw another note Rob made. Just downstream was a place he'd marked as the cat den. I don't know what that meant, but the last rule flashed in my mind.

When you get lost, follow the cats. Funny choice of words there, you know. When I get lost, not if. Looks like I don't have a choice. I ran along the river, making sure to keep my distance. I couldn't see where the Mickey with a hammer was, but there were more of them now, standing on the other bank. The grinding sound was much louder.

I couldn't take my eyes off the path for too long, but every time I looked to the side, I'd see more and more Mickey's coming. coming out of the trees. I never saw them move, but every time I looked back, they seemed to have moved closer to the river's edge. I ran faster until I saw a flash of red in the water. I almost tripped at what I saw. Some of them were in the river now.

Their necks were all twisted to look at me. Their eyes had a lifelike shine to them now. Behind me, the grinding concrete noises grew louder, closing in on me fast. I was almost out of breath. They're playing with me, I thought. My chest was on fire, and that's when I heard a sharp screech. In front of me was a gray tabby cat. Fur all puffed out, looking like it was ready to take on the world.

It was hissing, not at me, but at what's behind me. Another cat, a white one, darted out from the bushes. It leaped at something behind my back. I heard a wet tearing sound and a loud thud as something heavy fell to the ground. I didn't have the guts to turn around and see what it was. More cats had appeared now, hissing and surging around me. More heavy fuds sounded from behind me. I fell to my knees trying to catch my breath,

and that's when I saw the orange cat. It was sitting calmly on a fallen log, its tail swishing slowly from side to side. I didn't know what else to do. You know a way out, bud? I asked. The cat twitched its nose at me before jumping into the brush. It kept its tail up, like a beacon for me to follow. So that's what I did.

Every now and then, it would glance back at me, as if to make sure I was still there. Its bright fur stood out against the dark. Behind me, I could hear the other cats hissing and crying out, and I couldn't hear the grinding noises anymore. My guide picked up the pace, darting through the weeds. I did my best to keep up. Every time it looked back at me, it felt like a silent promise that I wasn't alone in this. And that tiny bit of hope kept me moving.

Even when my lungs burned and my legs ached. Slowly, things started to look more familiar. The sound of the river faded away, and the thick bushes and vines finned out. The ground evened out. Finally, we broke free from the dense growth. I was now standing in the middle of the park. No creepy Mickey statues anywhere. A weak sunlight was just breaking over the water.

The cat slowed down and I could see the entrance gate in the distance. I let out of breath and I glanced back. Behind me was just open space. A couple of old, rotting picnic tables scattered around. No sign of the forest, the river, or any nickys. The orange cat started circling around my legs, purring and rubbing against me. I reached down to petted soft fur. It was nice, having something makes sense again, something warm and safe.

I picked them up before heading for the gates. The sky was getting lighter now, which made it easier to see, that the statue by the entrance was gone. The one that started it all. I'm going to have to give Robert a call once I'm out of this place. But for now, I had a favor to return. I got back to my tent, settled in, and I tore off a huge chunk of my tuna fish sandwich. The cat purred and snuggled up close, making itself comfortable as it ate. And that's when I saw something I hadn't noticed before. It had a collar around its neck with a name tag. I reached down and looked. The cat's name was Tommy.