Lighthouse Horror Podcast - I Took A Job Inspecting Sewers. We Have Some STRANGE RULES | Scary Stories

Episode Date: October 7, 2023

He broke them.    Story from Ryan Peacock Make sure to check out more of their work at u/HeadOfSpectre                           Original Post: The Fifth Floor : r/HeadOfSpectre                      Original YouTube link: I Took A Job Inspecting Sewers. We Have Some STRANGE 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!

The way I see it, if you don't know that I exist, then I'm doing my job correctly. My name is Ben McFarlane, and I work as a municipal sewer inspector in the town of Tevham Sound, Ontario. It is not the most glamorous job, but hey, somebody's got to do it, and it puts food on the table. You'd probably think that working as a sewer inspector isn't that exciting, and yeah, for the most part, you'd be right. Most of the time, all I'm doing is checking the pipes for damage. Unless there's a reason for me to investigate a certain area, most of what I do is routine inspection, which helps ensure that the sewers remain in good working order. Trust me, nobody wants to see what happens when they aren't.

Thankfully, a lot of what I do can be done without me needing to crawl through pipes. I can use a small camera to help me do the inspection. But with some of the larger pipes and cisterns, I need to actually go inside and take a look. It's never the best part of my day, but like I said before, somebody's got to do it. Going down into the bigger tunnels is always a little unnerving. Part of it is the claustrophobic atmosphere, and part of it is the knowledge that you're basically standing in a river of literal human waste. I can deal with it now, but back when I first started, the smell alone was dark.

near and possible to deal with. Ask most sanitation workers, and I'm sure they'll have stories about what they found in the sewers before. Heck, most of it isn't even stuff that people flush down the toilet. It's the stuff that people drop down manhole covers, or the stuff that gets washed into the sewers by the rain. Dead animals are surprisingly common, as are kids' toys. I found an entire bicycle in the sewer once, and I've got a buddy who found a little bit of a little loaded gun down there. Somebody probably thought they'd get rid of it by tossing it in the sewer. Someone was wrong.

But of all the strange things I've experienced during my time working in the sewers, none of it compares to the stuff I see in the pipes on the southeast side of town. The things down there, I don't usually like to talk about him. Heck, I might not even be legally allowed to talk about him. I guess we'll find out, won't we? I've had a few drinks tonight, and I'm feeling particularly chatty. So why not spill the beans? Hey, maybe somebody out there will tell me something I don't already know.

I'd been on the job for about a year or so before getting sent to the southeast side of town. It's closer to the lake and the downtown area, so there's some deeper pipes there. I'd always figured that there was a reason they only really ever sent certain. people down there. I'd heard that those tunnels were old and a little labyrinthian. Anyone who didn't know what they were doing could very easily get lost. But after we got hit with a very nasty rainstorm back in summer of 2013, they needed to send someone down to check on some sensors, and I just so happened to be one of the guys who was available. A bad rainstorm can push a sewer system to its limit. So it really wasn't that surprise.

that we'd gotten that kind of call, and at the time, I didn't think there was anything that strange about it. My supervisor told me to head on down towards the pump house on the southwest side of town like it was any other priority inspection, and I went along with no questions asked. It was a few streets away from downtown. I'd seen it before, but never had a reason to go inside until then. I was working with a couple other newbies at the time, a guy by the name of Stuart Long long, who'd only been on the job for around three months or so, and another guy by the name of Tomas, who'd started around the same time that I had. We'd arrived at the pump house, and when we got there, we noticed another team waiting

on us. This wasn't too shocking either. Depending on the size of the job, they might have sent some other guys in to help us handle it. The guy in charge was an older man who looked to be pushing 60. He had sort of a Santa Claus on summer vacation look. white hair, a short white beard, a big beer belly, and a no-nonsense expression. He watched us get out of his truck with a look of stern disapproval before huffing and treading over to us.

Where's the usual fellows? He asked. I don't know. Out. They called us. I replied. Oh my god, you ever worked on the Southeast Approach Channel before? He asked. Yeah, yeah, we've been in the ones on the north side of town. I said, That's not what I asked, kid. You ever worked in this one before?

Something about the way he asked this question struck me as a little odd. I'd worked in an approach channel before. I knew the drill. What did it matter which one I'd worked in? For the Uninlightened, an approach channel is a cistern filled with wastewater. They feed into a deep tunnel, which feeds into a water treatment plant, and they're considered to be fairly dangerous due to their depth. If you fall off the ladder on your way down, you're in for a long drop into a biohazardous

lake unless you're properly tethered. And the harmful gases that can accumulate in them. Standard operating procedure is to always test the air before entering one, just to make sure that it's even safe to breathe down there. Being reckless while going into an approach channel is a recipe for disaster, and I would have understood if the old man was concerned about us not having dealt with one before. But the way he spoke to us, it implied that this one was different somehow, which didn't make a whole heck of a lot of sense to me.

What's the difference? I asked. Same procedure, right? No, not the same procedure. We need people experience with this approach channel. These tunnels are a little different than what you're used to." He said. Look, the boss sent us here.

I'm sure we'll manage. Tomas said. You can show us what we need to do. The old man didn't respond to him. He just shook his head and turned away. Okay, I'm going to call this in and clear it first with the boss. You three don't move until I get back. I traded a look with both Tomas and Long as the

old man trudged away. He said something to the two guys who were working with him before getting back into his truck to make a call. Part of me was obliged to try and just get to work, but looking at the two other guys that the old man had with him, I had a feeling they'd try to stop me. One of them, another older guy with a receding hairline and a bushy mustache, was watching us like a hawk. So we waited. After a few minutes, the old man got out of his truck again, said, said something to his buddy with the mustache and trudged back over to us. Bad news, fellas. Looks like our usual companies retired. I guess you're the replacement.

So we can get to work? I asked. Yeah, yeah, we can get to work. The old man said. Come on, let's get going. With that, he turned and led us into the pump house. Well, I suppose I might as well introduce myself. Name's Troy. My colleagues here are Craig and Peter. He gestured to the two men who were with him.

Mr. Mustache, who I assumed was Craig, and the other guy who looked to be in his mid-30s and had sunken eyes, as if he hadn't slept in a few days. The one who I assumed was Craig just gave us a nod, while the guy I figured was Peter gave a lazy half-wave before they followed us into the pump house. So if you don't mind me as to him. asking, what's so special about this channel?" I asked. I guess you'll be seeing for yourself soon enough." Troy replied, as he started down a set of stairs.

The guys you're replacing, well, you fella named Tom. He always had a set of rules for working down here. He passed him onto me and Craig when we started. We passed him on to Peter. And I guess it's time to pass him on to you, too. Rules? I asked. What kind of rules? The kind you listen very, very closely to, kid. Troy looked back at me before his eyes shifted to Thomas and long behind me.

Very closely. He descended the rest of the way down the stairs, where there was a hatch and the concrete floor beneath us, along with a large locker on the far side of the room. Rule number one. Troy began. You don't enter this part of the sewers alone. You stay in a group of at least three to four at all times. No more, no less.

Too many and it slows you down. Too few, and you might not come back at all. He trailed off, watching his Craig, cracked over. open the hatch to test the air inside. Rule number two, you do not enter this part of the sewers without a gun and a radio. He opened the locker on the far side of the room, and I was taken aback to see a collection of several handguns inside, along with boxes of ammunition and one shotgun amongst the usual PPE.

Troy clipped one of the guns to his belt, along with one of the radios, before handing a pair off to Peter and looking over at us. Who's taking it? He asked. Whoa, whoa, just hold up a minute. Long interjected. What the hell's down there? I don't know.

Troy replied. I hate to say it, but it ain't our job to know. I leave that to someone else. Our job is to follow the rules. You follow them and you'll be fine. Long seemed skeptical, but I looked at the gun in Troy's hand and I took it. I wasn't sure if he was having a laugh with us or not, but I was there to do a job and I intended to do it. Troy gave me a quiet nod before thrusting the second gun over to Long.

He didn't seem too happy to get it. Are we going to have to use these? He asked, Not if you do as I say you won't. Rule three. If you see a pipe or a tunnel with heavy spider webs, don't go down it. Doesn't matter if that's where the sensor is. You make a note of it, report it to your supervisor, and you leave it alone. Spider webs, I thought.

What the hell is he talking about? Rule number four. If you find a body, and odds are you will find a body, don't touch it. Don't try to move it. Hell, don't even get close to it. And don't waste the supervisor's time reporting it. Only time the bodies get reported is when they're human. Uh, I'm sorry.

You've been finding human bodies down there? I asked. Rarely, he replied. But it's been known to happen. And if we do find one, the same rules apply. Don't approach it, don't touch it. Stay as far away as possible. I could see some of the color draining from Long's face. Rule number five, if you see anyone else down there, you are not to interact with them. You do not follow them if they try to lead you somewhere.

If they ask you for help, you do not help them. I don't care if they're crying and begging, you'll leave them alone. You report it to your supervisor." There are people down there? I asked. Normally no. Far as I know, Tom only ever ran into a couple during his career. I've only ever seen one. Look, like I said, best to leave them alone. Why? I asked. If there's someone stuck down there, we'd have an obligation to help them. That would be very ill-advised, Troy said. You don't want to anger the things that are down there.

Which leads me to Rule 6. Avoid killing anything you come across down there. They're not yours to kill. And if you have absolutely no choice, if you have to break that rule for the sake of self-defense, Then we leave immediately. That's rule number seven. Air safe down there, Craig said, interrupting our conversation. Good, good. All right, let's get suited up.

Oh, and rule number eight. The final rule. If anything happens to any member of our team, we leave immediately. We don't go after them. We don't try to help them. We leave immediately, is that clear? Look, I don't care if it's me begging you for help. You leave me behind.

Long and I remained silent. Neither of us entirely sure how to react. Troy had made it sound as if we were about to descend into a level of hell. I couldn't imagine what the hell could possibly be down there to elicit a list of rules like that. And I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to find out either. Well, you fellas getting ready or not? Troy asked as he put on his P.E. The quicker we get down there, the quicker we're out again.

If this is so dangerous, why are they sending us? Long asked. Shouldn't they be sending, I don't know, the cops or something? They tolerate us being down there, so long as we don't disturb them. They wouldn't be so forgiving toward the local police. Troy replied. Listen, kid, you obey the rules and you'll be fine. You got that?

We've been doing this for years without any problems. You keep your head on your shoulders, you do what you say, and you go home safe. All right? Long still didn't seem convinced, but I did. By this point, I was more than that. curious about what exactly was down there. And Troy's assurance that they'd come out unscathed before did set me at ease a little bit. These rules sounded kind of scary, but I mean, what could realistically go wrong? With Troy keeping us in line, everything would probably be fine. And besides,

I still wasn't convinced that this wasn't all some sort of elaborate prank the old man was pulling. I grabbed myself a set of PPE and got ready and after a moment's hesitation. Long did the same. When we were ready, Craig opened up the hatch in the floor, and Tomas helped get us tethered so that we wouldn't plummet down into the waters below if we slipped on the ladder, and then we finally began our descent. Troy went first, climbing down the ladder and into the darkness below. I went second, followed by Peter and followed by Long. We climbed down into the approach channel in relative silence, only really speaking again, once we made it to the bottom of the ladder.

Troy helped get me untethered, before doing the same for Peter and Long as they reached the bottom. And while he did that, I got my first look at the dreaded Southeast Approach Channel. I can't say there was a whole heck of a lot to see. The walls were boxy and flat. And the dirty wastewater trickled over my boots and into the pipe, sending it even deeper through the sewer system. The sensor should have been mounted on the ceiling, and I traced the black conduit line with

my flashlight as I searched for the sensor they connected to. Peter and Long stayed back, as Tomas and Craig lowered our tools down after us, while Troy came up behind me. Should be quick work, he noted. Rain doesn't seem to have done much in here. Water level still fairly low. I saw his flashlight shift upward toward the ceiling before he spotted the sensor. He trudged through the water to get closer to it, and I followed him.

No external damage, I noted. Conduit line looks good too. Yeah, we'll run our test and get out of here, Troy said. The approach channel is usually pretty safe. Usually. Usually? I replied. And Troy pointed his flashlight up towards a set of silky spider webs hanging from the ceiling,

a few feet behind the sensor. They don't typically come up here, but every now and then you might find some proof of some young ones trying to get into the pump house. I looked over at him. They try to break into the pump house? I asked. Do they ever get in? Not that I've heard of.

Can't imagine they'd stay long if they did. Nothing to eat in there. What? What exactly are they? I asked. And don't you tell me it's not for us to know. You've seen them, right? What do they look like?

Troy had started to answer. When suddenly I heard long screaming and swearing up a storm. Both of us turned to look. just in time to see something large skittering up the wall behind him. I only caught a brief glimpse of it, but it seemed to be roughly the size of a dog with more legs than I could count. Long stared at it with wide, horrified eyes as he fumbled with his gun before pulling it free.

I saw Troy's eyes widen before Long fired five times. Only one or two of the bullets actually hit the target. I heard Peter cry out in pain and grab at his arm before falling, and whatever it was that Long had actually been shooting at, collapsed into the shallow water, its pale body twitching violently. What did you just do? Troy demanded, running over to Peter's side. It was coming from me, Long protested, before noticing what he'd done to Peter. I saw his eyes widen in horror. Oh, no, no, no, I didn't.

Rule six. You don't kill anything down here. You leave them alone, and they leave you alone. Troy roared. Before his attention returned to Peter, How bad is it? It's just a scratch, boss. I think I got hit by a ricochet.

Peter said, as Troy inspected his wound. I've never seen a gunshot wound before, but there was a lot of blood for it just to be a scratch. All right, we'll get you topside. Troy said, and we'll come back down tomorrow with someone who knows how to follow the rules. He shot long a death glare before his radio crackled alive. Troy, everything good down there? Craig asked. No, no it isn't.

One of the newbies got jumpy, shot at a centipede. He huffed. Put a hole in Peter in the process. You think you can reel him back up? Yeah, sure thing. Hook him up. Tomas and I will bring him topside. Troy quietly hooked Peter up to the line

before helping him out of the ladder. You take it easy on the way up. We're going to get that checked out, okay? He promised. Thanks, boss, Peter said quietly. Troy's attention returned to long next as he fixed him in a death glare. You, up the ladder behind him. And you, he looked at me, his expression softening just a little.

Behind him, I'll go up last. Peter started to meekly climb the ladder, although it seemed like Craig and Tomomers. Moss were doing most of the work, hoisting him up rung by rung. Once he made it part of the way up, Long started to hook himself up to climb behind him. Although before he could hook himself in, I saw him pause for a moment, staring at Troy. What is it? Troy asked. Long craned his neck a little, his hand moving to his gun again.

And it was then that both Troy and I realized that he hadn't. been looking at Troy. He'd been looking at what was behind him. I only saw a shadow, perched on the roof of the tunnel. But that was all that long needed to see before he started shooting again. Don't, Troy said. But by the time Troy had gotten the word out, that trigger-happy idiot had already started shooting again. And this time, the thing that came for him didn't drop dead. Instead, it launched itself off the ceiling of the tunnel, crashing into the ground a few feet away from me. Wait, Troy tried to protest, before the thing in front of us knocked him aside, dashing him against the wall. Long scrambled ahead, retreating deeper into the tunnel, while Peter frantically tried to unholster his gun.

Troy? Troy, what's going on down there? I heard Craig calling over the radio. Troy, anyone respond. The shape in front of us turned, looking over at me and long, eight eyes shone in the darkness, and though I could only see the shadow of the creature before us, I saw enough.

It had a body like a spider with eight long legs. Only its body was much larger than any spider. I'd ever seen before. Much larger. This creature was almost the size of a small car, but it wasn't its size that terrified me. It was the humanoid torso coming out of the front of it, the two arms that ended in razor-sharp claws,

the snarling mouth that made noises that almost sounded human. When this impossible thing looked at us, I saw real intelligence in those eyes. It was studying us, trying to determine how much of a threat we were. Long kept his gun trained on it, hands shaking violently. I knew he was going to shoot again. And hoping not to anger this thing, I grabbed his arm, trying to force his gun down. He jumped the moment that I touched him, giving me a hysterical look.

Don't, I snapped. You're just going to piss it off. The spider took a step toward us, hissing as it did. Long pulled away from me. I tried calling his name, but Long had already made his choice, and it sealed his fate. He'd opted to fight this thing. And so, like the fool he was, he shot it again. The spider lunged for us.

I ran. Long didn't. He only had enough time to scream before it pounced on him. And then, all I could hear were the dying screams in his throat as he was pulled apart. I didn't see him die, but I didn't need to. I heard everything. I kept running, not even thinking. about where the approach channel was going to end. And what it did end, all I could do was

plummet into the darkness. See, at the end of an approach channel is what is appropriately called a drop shaft. It's where the water flows into a larger tunnel beneath the city. That tunnel flows into the water treatment plant. And the water down there. Yeah, let's just say that you don't want to end up in the water down there. And unfortunately, that was exactly where I was going. I know that every job has its struggles, but I didn't expect to need to choose between diving into raw sewage and fighting a giant spider monster when I woke up that morning. However, the choice was presented to me, and I did the best that I could given the circumstances.

Going into the wastewater was exactly as unpleasant as you'd think it be. I'm inclined not to share the details, simply because I genuinely do not want to remember them, and I'm still not entirely convinced that dealing with a giant, angry spider person wasn't the better choice. A small comfort was that the pain of hitting the water, combined with a confusing sensation of being flushed through a pipe and into an even larger pipe, made the whole experience slightly less disgusting, at the cost of being more painful. At the end of it, I was washed out into the main pipe and collapsed into the water,

covered in filth and gagging from the stench that had sunk into my every pore. I felt disoriented and confused. I tried to stand, only to collapse back into the wastewater, before aimlessly looking around, hoping that maybe I could figure out what direction to go in. It was too dark to see much of anything, and I'd lost my flashlight during my trip through the wastewater, so I was just left to wander aimlessly. Following what I thought was the flow of the water, as my eyes slowly started to acclimate to the darkness.

I could feel shapes in the water. Some of them I almost tripped over, and I could smell rotting meat on top of the stink of human waste. In the darkness, I could make out of the water. I could make out shapes in the water and hear the buzzing of bugs around me. I could even feel a few whizzed past my head, and I mindlessly swatted at them. Old bones crunched under my boots, and I quietly thanked whatever God was listening, that I couldn't see what they'd belong to.

I wanted to assume they were animal bones, but who knew, right? I couldn't shake the mental image of myself unknowingly stepping over the the mauled corpse of Stuart Long, although that was more from the trauma of having recently witnessed a man die than any guilt over what had happened to him. Long had quite literally gotten himself killed, although I was terrified that I'd be joining him at any second. I kept listening in, half expecting to hear spider legs creeping up behind me. But it was impossible to tell if I was alone or not in that darkness and with the bugs buzzing past me. If there were anything after me, I truly would not know it until after it had pounced.

Still, I knew I couldn't afford to let the fear get the better of me. So I just kept walking, hoping that maybe if I did, I'd somehow find myself at the water treatment plant, and maybe then I'd get some help. Maybe. As I pressed on, I noticed a light ahead of me, and I picked up the pace, hoping to God that I'd finally found my way out of this mess. But as I drew closer, I became very aware that whatever the source of that light was, it was not from the water treatment plant.

In fact, I wasn't entirely sure what it was. My first thought was that it was a Fatberg, which is a solid mass of waste matter formed by an unholy mixture of wet wipes, grease, oil, and every other piece of garbage people tend to flush down their toilets. But the longer I looked, the less certain I was about that. Fatburgs usually didn't have lamps embedded in them. Fatburgs usually didn't have thick spider webs clinging to them. And Fatbergs didn't usually lead into a separate tunnel into the earth large enough for me to walk through.

Oh, and yeah. Fatburgs didn't usually have dead deer protruding from them, let alone dead deer with other bugs living in them. God. The sight of those corpses. The way the bugs crawled through the rotting flesh and exposed bone, the empty hollow eyes, it was almost too horrible to look at. And I swore that I could see things inside the corpses, honeycombs of some sort, and the bugs

who crawled around them looked almost like bees. Was something cultivating some kind of bee? in these things? I thought back to Troy's rules. Rule number four, if you find a body, and odds are you will find a body, don't touch it, don't try to move it. Hell, don't even get close to it. And don't waste the supervisor's time reporting it. Only time the bodies get reported is when they're human. Suddenly, that made a little more sense. If those spider things were cultivating something in these bodies, of course we shouldn't touch them.

And if they were cultivating their food in the sewer? I paused before staring down into the tunnel by the corpses. Dull lamps illuminated it as it wound down into the earth. And I could see several pale centipede things that looked a lot like the creature that long had. shot to get us into this mess. These things must have belonged to the spiders too, although whether they were some sort of guard dog or another thing the spiders were farming was hard to say.

I took a step away from the tunnel before looking back to make sure that I was alone. And that was when I heard the slow rustle of movement. I paused, feeling a chill run through me, as the imminent reality of my own dead. Death dawned on me. Slowly I turned, just in time to see a dark shape descending from the ceiling. A fresh set of eyes settled on me, narrowing as they studied me. I put my hands up, hoping that it might understand the gesture of surrender, and slowly it drew closer to me. I wasn't sure if it was curious, or looking to murder me and it had to be. At that point, I don't think it really mattered.

I wish I could say that I faced my death with dignity. But I'm going to be honest. I didn't. I sat there, praying to whatever God would listen, that it wouldn't kill me. And then I heard a voice, Leave that one. He's with me. Troy? I saw a figure emerge from the tunnel in the wall.

And against all logic, somehow it was Troy. He had a hell of a goose egg on his head from where he'd been hit earlier. But he was alive. He stepped between me and the spider person, arms outstretched. With me. He repeated firmly. The spider stared down at him before huffing and turning away. I watched as they disappeared down the near.

nearby tunnel and Troy watched them go before quietly turning to me. Good Lord boy, I am shocked to see you're still alive. What just happened? Was the only thing I could stammer? You can talk to them? Some of them have been down here for long enough that they know me. They know I'm not a threat, but they ain't too happy with us right now. with us right now. So what you're going to do is get up, follow me, and I'm going to get

you out of here. How do you know they'll even let us leave? I asked. Troy's expression soured. Had to pay him off, he admitted. Let him keep what was left of your friend. They considered it a fair trade so long as we leave. Now let's go. I didn't ask any more questions. After I made it out of the sewers that day, I ended up in a hospital alongside Peter. I had some minor cuts and bruises, a burning rash over most of my body from all the sewage I'd been crawling around in, but I was still alive, and I figured that had to count for something.

Nobody said a word about what happened to Stuart Long down in the sewer. He got written off as a workplace accident, and they never even tried to recover his body. I suspect what's left of him is still down in the sewers. Even now. Feeding. Whatever it is that those things down there are cultivating. Although I've never seen the body myself. Yes.

I've been back down beneath the southeast side of town. The next time they needed someone to go, they sent me into the body myself. Thomas, along with Troy, Craig, and Peter. We know what's down there, and we know how to deal with them, after all. My second visit to those sewers was a lot less eventful, and most of my subsequent visits haven't been all that eventful either. Over the years, I've gotten better at dealing with the spiders. They're not the most friendly folk, and I know all too well that if you cross them, they'll

rip your guts out before you even realize that you're dead. But so long as you follow the rules and leave them alone, they're content to live and let live. They can even be reasonable, to an extent. We've had a few small incidents over the years, but nothing like the one that long caused. Odds are, when Troy and Craig retire next year, Thomas and I will be training the next group on what to do when you're down beneath the southeast side of town. So in preparation for that, I've made a point to keep a copy of Tom's rules in the pump house.

I also keep a picture of Stuart Long in there. Not as a memorial and not out of spite either. Just as a grim reminder of what can happen when you don't follow the rules.