Lighthouse Horror Podcast - I think my neighbors AREN'T HUMAN | Scary Stories

Episode Date: May 29, 2024

There's a horrifying secret down there... Story from Saturdead Make sure to check out more of their work at u/Saturdead  Cover Art from Ninerio More of their works at ninerioarts  Original Post: They forced me to love the flashing lights : r/nosleep                      Original YouTube link: I think my neighbors AREN'T HUMAN     Merch: lighthousehorror.com  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's the last time you looked at someone? I mean, really looked at someone. Maybe you'll meet someone with one eye that droops slightly or with an ear that looks a little off, but that's normal, right? But what if you look closer and you find teeth that are too sharp and eyes with no pupils? Or a face that looks more like a Halloween mask. I lost my job recently and I decided to start renting out parts of my house. There was enough room upstairs for at least a couple of college kids.

There was a basement big enough for a few more. It was just this large one-room space that basically covered the entire underside of the building, supported by these thick concrete beams. But I figured it wouldn't hurt to try, as long as I was honest about what to expect. So I put on an ad on a couple of socials. I included a few pictures, and I hoped for the best. The price was cheap, too. cheaper than it should be, I guess.

It was early October when I had a knock at the door. I rushed to open it. I was still browsing job openings on my phone and chewing on some cold pizza from last night. It's hard to explain how surprised I was to see what I saw. Now most other applicants had either been young guys or college girls. What was now standing in front of me was a family of four. A mother, a father, both in their mid-forties, I think, and two young boys. The mom had this autumn-colored cotton dress with a little ribbon. The dad had this fancy black overcoat, a white

shirt, and a red tie. Both kids were dressed up in identical blue shirts. The dad stepped forward, offering me a handshake. I accepted. "'Hi there,' he said with a warm smile. "'We're the Walters. We're here about the ad.' "'Oh, uh, hi,' I answered. Might get a bit crowded, but you're free to have a look. Sorry about the, uh... I gestured to myself, but the dad just shook his head.

Oh, not at all. I hope we're not imposing. He said. I invited them inside, and they went right past the stairs. I figured they just missed it. Excuse me, I said, it's right up here. I pointed at the stairs. Oh, we know, smiled the mom. We're here about the basement.

So there's this long wooden staircase that spirals into the basement. It's one of the main reasons I don't like going down there or furnishing the place. That spiral, it makes it almost impossible to bring down any proper furniture. It is infuriating. But all four members of this picture-perfect family stepped down, all composed. They were courteous and respectful, with just the polite amount of excitement. But I got the sense that there was just something off about him. The dad brought up some measuring, measuring tape and started checking the walls. They asked me about the lack of windows, the air quality, their ability to bring down some furniture and put up some light fixtures. I agreed to all of it.

I still couldn't believe they were actually considering it. This was clearly not a space meant for a family of four, and they gave the impression that they were pretty well off. There was no reason for them to rent a space like this. Still, as they finished their questions, the mother approached me. Would you mind stepping upstairs and just walking around a bit? She asked. We'd like to see how much sound carries through. A strange way to ask for sound-proofing, I thought, but I did as she asked.

I got up the stairs, put on my heaviest boots, and just wandered around for a bit. After a couple of minutes, I turned the corner. only to see all four of them just standing in the hallway. Picture perfect, all with a big smile on their faces. We're very pleased, the mother said. We'll take it. They signed a six-month rent agreement, and I got to know them a little better over the next few weeks as they sporadically dropped by.

There was Layla, the mother, Anders, the father, the kids were Aden and Elvin. Apparently they were in between housing and wanted something small and cheap in the meantime. Despite all that, I couldn't shake the feeling that a basement was a strange choice for them. Still, I needed the money, and they were eager to get it done. They even offered to pay a little extra, since they were bringing in more people than I'd anticipated. About a week later, they showed up for the official moving. Layla and Anders insisted on bringing everything in themselves, that I shouldn't be bothered with any heavy lifting. Apparently,

just letting them stay there was favor enough. They brought in about a dozen pieces of furniture covered in blue tarp, along with a ton of cardboard boxes. None of them marked. They also put down several hand-woven carpets, the kind you'd see in a large, mansion. Layla was a stay-at-home mom, while Anders worked as some kind of security manager for a nearby airport. He worked odd hours, anything from 12-hour shifts to all-nighters and everything in between. He was also on call for most hours of the day. Sometimes he even had to leave with short notice. It was strange, though. One might think a person like that would need someplace with good cell coverage. But that basement, I mean, it barely had a single bar. There was Wi-Fi, but

it was spotty at best. For some reason, none of this seemed to bother him. That first week living with the Walters, it wasn't a problem. Most of the time I forgot they were even there. I only saw them leave the basement, maybe a handful of times, and they didn't make any noise. At most, I could hear them stomping up or down that creaky old staircase, but now was mostly Anders heading to work. In fact, I never saw Aidan and Alvin leave for school. I figured they were being homeschooled. Still, they were hardly an issue. I was still working hard on finding someone to rent the upstairs, but no luck.

I'd considered lowering the price. but after the Walters moved in, money was becoming less of an issue. Anders even suggested that I apply for a job at the airport. He knew one of the HR people looking for hires. Having been jobless for five months, I was willing to try pretty much anything. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't telling me the whole story. I kept coming back to one thought. What the hell were they even doing down there?

Once, I decided to get a better look at what they'd done with the place. At that point, I hadn't even seen how they decorated it. It was in the middle of the afternoon, and I had no idea whether they were even down there or not. Their car was gone from the driveway. I knocked a couple of times, and when there was no response, I used my key to get down. As I turned the corner, it was dead. leftly quiet and completely dark. I turned on the lights. They all slept in these basic

single beds, all spaced out along the easternmost wall. They had a small love seat couch. A couple of basic plastic chairs faced a thick old TV against the wall. There was an empty bookshelf and a couple of scattered carpets along the floor. I could see a few opened boxes. There was a bathroom next to the staircase, but it looked unused, no toothbrushes or anything. It took me a few moments to realize that I wasn't alone. The entire family was standing in a line along the southernmost wall, furthest away from the staircase. They were standing in order of size from tallest to smallest, remaining perfect.

perfectly still. Just looking at me. It wasn't until they noticed me looking at them, that they even reacted. They all looked up at me, putting on a friendly smile. Can we help you? asked Layla. I hope we didn't make too much noise, continued Anders. The kids just nodded in unison. I took a good look at them, but I couldn't figure out what I was looking at. I had no explanation for their behavior. Sorry, I was just going to check the water pressure. I lied. I tried knocking.

Oh, that's all right, smiled Anders. Go right ahead. Walking back up the stairs, a thought hit me. if they were all down there. Where was their car? Who'd taken it? I had a number of strange interactions with them over the next couple of weeks. For example, I once found Aden, the younger of the two brothers, standing in the kitchen.

He wasn't doing anything in particular. Just standing there, staring at the spice rack. When I asked him about it, he just said he wasn't doing anything. After a while, he turned on his heel and ran back downstairs. I didn't see it, but I heard his little feet thump all the way down the staircase. Another time, I saw Layla standing in the open doorway leading to the basement. She was just standing there, hand on the doorknob, looking right at me. I said, hello, and she set it right back.

back, but she wouldn't let me out of her sight. When I finally passed from her view, I could hear her running back downstairs, not just hurrying, running. Another time, I saw Anders in the car out in the driveway. I saw him from the upstairs window. He was just sitting there, hands on the steering wheel. He was there for a good 15 minutes. No radio or nothing, just him alone in his car.

But the strangest interaction. It came one night when I was going to the kitchen to get a soda. I spotted Layla standing in the kitchen. The fridge was wide open. I could see her silhouette illuminated by the fridge bulb. Her long black hair was wet from a fresh shower. She was in a hastily tied bathrobe, and her feet were bare.

At first, I didn't see anything strange. She was just standing there. She wasn't getting anything. It was more like she was bathing in the light. I thought about calling out to her. But something about her, it made me want to just go back into my bedroom. And then I saw it.

There was something wrong with her ear. Her left ear was about three inches higher up than her right one. Her scalp seemed lightly tilted. And there was something about the way she moved her fingers that didn't look natural. They pointed in different directions like her hand was fractured. I just stayed there for a while, looking at her from a distance. I watched her shoulders rise and fall as she took deep breaths, like she was inhaling the cold. When she turned my way, I only saw her for a moment.

Her torso moved first before her legs followed, like a stilted claymation puppet. I managed to slip around the corner, and I heard her rush back towards the basement. Her feet tapped against the hallway carpet in an uneven rhythm. When she got to the door, she stopped. I was leaning against the wall, listening from the other room. I heard her step around for a bit. And then I heard a snap. It sounded like a popping limb, something finding its way back into a socket.

Her steps then became more even as she hurried downstairs. I just stayed there for a while, trying to keep calm. For all intents and purposes, I might have just been seeing her in a weird light. It was dark, and I was sleepy. And yet I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something very wrong with her, that I'd seen something I wasn't supposed to. From that day forward, I got more suspicious. I didn't go into the hallway at night, and I did my best to avoid that basement door altogether. I tried my best to just put them out of my head.

I went back to focus on getting a job and a second tenant for the upstairs space, both of which proved to be a challenge. But I was making progress. The TSA was hiring, for example. Not the most glamorous job, but it would be solid work. Finally, a couple of college students came by to check the upstairs floor. A young couple who needed a place to stay while they finished up their master's degree. They seemed like nice enough people, and we got along just fine. They knew the place wasn't the prettiest, But it was a neat short-term solution while they finished up the upcoming semester.

The only problem was the Walters family. I remember knocking on the basement door to introduce them. The young couple were standing behind me. Alvin, the oldest of the brothers, chimed in with a cheerful, Come in! As we went downstairs, the family of four was standing in a picture person, perfect two-by-two formation. Mom and dad in the back, two kids in the front, all dressed in their Sunday best, a freshly printed

smile across their faces. The whole scene was insane. It looked like some kind of commercial from the 1950s. Hello, giggled Layla. Aren't they the most handsome couple, Anders? They sure are, Layla. Anders answered back. Polite as ever. For the first 20 seconds or so, this very uncomfortable silence grew between us. The Walters just stood there, smiling, waiting for some kind of response.

I wanted to say something, but I couldn't help but to feel that I was missing something obvious. Was Layla's eye color a bit different? Was Alvin's face a bit lopsided? Was Anders missing a finger? Or did he just stand in a weird angle? Maybe they'd been strange all along. Maybe it was only now that I was seeing it. When we finally parted ways, I followed the young couple outside.

They both turned to me, their faces grim. One of them just stuttered, but the other managed to form a few words. They wanted to know about the blue box in the basement. They said they saw it move. The discussion died down after that, and they said their goodbyes. I got the feeling that they wouldn't be coming back any time soon. Still, their words lingered in the back of my head. A box that moved.

Really? How did I miss that? I decided to finally get some answers. I had to take a little risk and figure this out, once and for all. So one day, I slipped a note under the door. It said that I needed to clear out the basement for one afternoon, while a plumber did some repairs. I looked up a few plumbing things on Wikipedia and referenced a real company. I tried to make it look all official and stuff.

Later that day, Layla and Anders dropped by. They were holding hands and told me that they'd be sure to be out for the day. Maybe we'll go to the zoo, smiled Anders. Don't you have work? I asked. Oh, it comes in. goes, he laughed. We're very fortunate. Very fortunate, agreed Lela. So very fortunate. At the designated time, the family was out of the building. They went for a drive in Anders car. They promised they'd be back soon. I told them it wouldn't take the plumber more than an

hour. They seemed a little suspicious when they hadn't seen the actual plumbers show up yet. Finally, I just straight up lied. I gave them a fake name and asked whether they wanted to call him. Layla didn't call my bluff, luckily. But as they pulled out of the driveway, I was sweating. I didn't even know what I was so scared of. But my mind kept returning to that night when I saw her just standing in front of the fridge. I had no idea what they were hiding or what they might do if I found out about it. There was a part of me that just wanted to get into my car and drive away. Another part of me told me I was being an idiot. When they finally drove away, I wasted no time. I ran downstairs, turned on the light, and I started to go through their stuff.

Yes, it was an invasion of privacy, probably illegal. But if I ever wanted to sleep again, I had to have an idea about why they were so damn weird. There were a lot of weird things about their space. All their beds were perfectly made, like no one had ever slept in them. Most of the couches and surfaces were covered in dust. I could tell the TV hadn't been on in forever. It wasn't even plugged in. There were no phones, no chargers, no laptops or computers,

just a bunch of boxes and unused furniture. I did find a Polaroid camera, though. It was at least 30 years old, I think. I started checking their boxes. Just clothes, it seemed. All variations of what I'd already seen them wear. identical sets of shirts, pants, dresses, and shoes. At least four boxes worth.

One box was just full of accessories, like earrings, necklaces, glasses, glasses, hair spray, and fake nails. Another was full of decorations and knick-knacks, porcelain dogs, family photos, dried blue sunflowers and roses, in roses. I took my time, carefully placing everything back in the way I found it.

It was weird, but there's nothing incriminating or downright unnatural. Still, I remember what that couple had said about a box that moved. I couldn't see anything like it. That is, until I turned to leave. Right by the side of the stairs, next to the unused bathroom was a large blue styrofoam cooler. It was the kind of thing that blended into the background, like it always been there. Still, I could clearly remember not owning one of those things.

It looked old and torn like it'd been around for years. And maybe I was imagining things, but it looked old. It looked like it was moving, pulsing. Something was pressing against the surface, making little plastic squeals. There was a sound coming from it, like a low guttural growl pushed through a thin pipe, a sharp, rhythmic noise. It made the cooler rattle and shake ever so slightly. I froze.

I was hoping it would quiet down. I held my breath and I waited for it to settle. I slowly went back up the stairs as I rounded the corner and lost sight of the cooler. I heard the styrofoam cover pop off. The sounds became clearer. I heard a loud growl shifting in pitch from high to low. like a singer doing some kind of sick vocal warm-up. And then something hit the floor with a painful yelp,

and I stopped dead in my tracks. I tried to figure out what it was. It was like a cross between a dog and some kind of fox, a sharp screeching tone. And then it scrambled to its feet. I could hear claws, scratching the floor, and then something started coming my way, fast. There was something primal in me that told me to run.

I ran up the stairs. I only looked back for a quick look as I shut the door behind me. I only saw it for a moment, something black with a single eye looking back at me. Its skin was tight and misplaced across. across the skull. There were teeth pointing in all directions, in seemingly random sizes. Black drool dripped off a long elongated tongue. It was a thing wearing the cheap suit of a black dog.

As I slammed the door shut, I could hear a car pull up the driveway. It'd been less than 30 minutes, I thought. Maybe they'd planned to catch me in the act. I heard them come in and head straight for the basement. Meanwhile, I was in the other room. I was packing a small bag with a change of clothes and a toothbrush. The moment I heard the basement door shut, I headed for my car. As soon as I got in, I saw them step out of the house.

They all stood there in the driveway. way, just looking at me. And right next to them was a beautiful black Labrador, happily wagging its tail. I didn't say a word. I just drove. I had to get away and figure out what the hell I even wanted to do. I wanted to go to the police, but there was no way to explain what I'd seen. What could they even do?

them out for having a dog. There was a clause in the rental agreement that let them have a pet. I had nothing. I decided to spend the night at a motel just out of town. I needed time to think and sleep without having the threat of something strange living under me. I couldn't get that image out of my head. The little thing in the dog suit, like something trying to remember what a dog looked and sounded like. I checked in at the motel and got a room on the first floor. I crawled into bed, put the TV on, and surfed a bit on my phone. I could feel myself relaxed for the first time in weeks.

But every time I thought about that house and that family, I could feel my pulse go faster. I remember a tap on the door. I must have dosed off. I hadn't turned the TV off or brushed my teeth. I just woke up with this sour feeling in my stomach, that something was terribly wrong. I'd close the curtains, so I couldn't see who it was.

My thoughts raised, but I tried to think of more rational possibilities. Maybe it was just housekeeping or a concerned manager. And then the knock came again, this time with a voice. It was Alvin Walters saying they just want to talk. I didn't answer. For a few seconds, I carefully stepped out of my bed.

I tried my best to not make any noise. There was no way they didn't know I was in there. They knew and they wanted something. and whatever it was, I did not want to find out. I snuck over to the back of the room as the doorknob started to rattle. I could hear Alvin again, telling me to just open the door. This time, his voice sounded like the monstrous growl of an adult man. I pulled open the curtains to a window facing the back of the building.

I figured I could climb out there. But as soon as those curtains opened, my heart skipped the beat. Right there was Anders, the father himself, just inches from the window. Standing straight with his neatly tucked shirt, a smile was cemented on his face. He tapped the window. Would you mind opening up? he asked, It won't take long.

Again, I looked a little closer, and again I could see little details that were just off, a slight droop of the lip that hadn't been there the day before. One eye pulled lower than the other. I think his hairline was more forward than usual, like he'd rushed himself to look like a person.

There was another knock at the door, another knock at the window, voices from the front and the back. Hell, maybe even the room next door. Little voices. Big voices? Broken voices. I had to make a break for it. I pulled the front curtains aside to see how many of them were waiting up front.

And all five of them were standing there. Mom, dad, kids, and dog. I looked at the Anders by the back window. I was trying to convince myself I wasn't insane. There were two dads, and none of them looked right. Further down the street in their car, I spotted two more kids identical to Aden and Alvin. Both looking like they weren't fully formed yet. A loose jaw, a strange eye.

One of them had a wide, bald spot. I saw another Layla stepping out of the motel manager's office. This one had a deflated arm and a paralyzed face. I was surrounded. I held up my phone like a weapon. I'm calling the police, I said, get the hell away from me. That'd be inconvenient, said Anders. The doorknob rattled again, more forceful this time.

I could feel my pulse rising, my breath growing short. I looked back and forth, seeing the Anders at the back window, trying to figure out the lock. Only now did I see that one of his fingers was nothing but bone. How about a trade? Suggested Lela. Something for everyone. What the hell are you talking about? I said backing into a corner.

Go inside that bathroom of yours, grab a piece of tissue and chew on it. Then drop it out the house. window. Layla's voice was as calm as ever. What? I asked. I couldn't understand what I was hearing. It's like the words were there, but didn't make any sense. We're going to need a new suit, said Leila. You will do. You're not wearing me, I spat back.

Oh, we'll leave you alone. and you'll leave us alone, Layla continued. Because if you don't, people that look like you are going to start doing some terrible things. So that way, we can all walk away. You'll never see us again and we'll leave you be. I tried to wrap my head around it. They were going to make a suit out of me. Like they'd done with that dog and with that family.

There would be someone looking like me walking around out there. Something vile. But what choice did I have? I stepped into the bathroom and I chewed up a piece of tissue. I spat it out and moved to the window. The family stepped back. I clicked the window open, and I flung the piece of tissue out with a flick of the finger. Layla picked it up and met my eyes.

With one clench of the fist, she grabbed the top of her head and pulled. Her entire face lurched backwards. Her lower lip slid all the way to her eyebrows. underneath was just this black sludge. It covered a deformed skull. She was like a walking oil spill. She pushed the piece of tissue inside herself before pulling her face back down. It took her a few seconds to realign.

She just couldn't get it to look right. She coughed a little. She waited. She nodded. And when she looked back at me, she did so with my own eyes. She spoke with my own tongue. Thank you, I heard myself say. I think this will work out for all of us, don't you?

I couldn't answer. I couldn't think. I just closed the curtains and scrambled backwards. I heard a car pull around. I heard rustling in the bushes out back. And from afar, I could hear my own voice a final time. We'll be gone by morning, it said. But we're never far away.

I heard a car drive off. And I just stood there. The next morning they were gone. The basement was empty. They even left a thank you note. Attached to it was a Polaroid picture of a happy family. A mom, a dad, two kids, and a funny uncle. One that looked exactly like me.

Are they watching me? How many suits do they have? I wanted to just put this behind me and pretend it never happened. But it's getting harder and harder. Every now and then, I see someone that looks vaguely like them and Anders with a different haircut, a Layla that's slightly younger. School photos with an Aiden or Alvin, but a different hair color. And a few weeks ago, I got a call from a friend mentioning how they'd seen me in the local

newspaper. Only thing is, I've never been in it. I've considered moving somewhere far, far away. But first, I just need to get this out. I need someone to believe me. The real me, and not the me you might see in the papers.