Lighthouse Horror Podcast - I went to a HAUNTED CABIN. They have a STRANGE LIST OF RULES | Scary Stories

Episode Date: October 21, 2024

I should have never gone… Scary Story exclusively written for the channel by Blair Daniels Check out more of the author's work here r/blairdaniels  Cover Art from Ninerio More of the artist’s works at ninerioarts                         Original YouTube link: I went to a HAUNTED CABIN. They have a STRANGE LIST OF RULES   Merch: lighthousehorror.shop For more stories like this one, check out my YouTube channel: Lighthouse Horror | YouTube  Patreon: Lighthouse Horror | Patreon Music: Lucas King - YouTube Myuu - YouTube  Incompetech Darren Curtis Music - YouTube  Thank you for listening to this scary story! If you enjoyed this new creepypasta story, please check out some of my other horror stories. We'll be uploading new episodes every week, featuring ghost stories, haunted encounters, mysteries, true stories, creepypasta, and anything supernatural and paranormal. Don't miss out on the thrill and suspense that await you in each episode!

My family and I decided to take a vacation to Lake Serenity this summer. Our son likes swimming, and our daughter likes boats of all kinds, so we figured it was a good choice for our family. I actually first found out about the place through an online ad of all things. A photo of a beautiful lake surrounded by pine trees with scrolling white text that read Visit Lake Serenity. Checking out some Airbnbs in the area, we found they were a lot cheaper than the other locations we were looking at.

So we packed up the car, and we're on our way to upstate New York. The Airbnb looked just like the photos, a cozy saltbox-style house on the lake, complete with a little dock to fish off of. The view of the lake was spectacular from the huge picture windows in the family room, and the house was filled with cute little things like signs that read Beach This Way. and a bottle filled with sea glass. We were thrilled with the place, patting ourselves on the back for planning such an awesome vacation.

Until we saw the flyer, in the middle of the kitchen counter, we found a handwritten note from the owner, welcoming us into her home. She also told us, however, to check out the rules on the next page. Apparently, the community was pretty strict about conduct, and vacationers had been banned from the beach before. Curious, my wife and I flipped the page. Bold text across the top read Rules for Lake Serenity. A post-it had been stuck on for good measure, asking us to read all the rules carefully. I shrugged at my wife and began to read. Rule number one, boats are not allowed on the lake after dark.

If you see a boat at night, or even just a light on the lake, please call the park ranger. His number is at the bottom of this page. Rule number two. There are many fish, crabs, and aquatic plants in the lake, so don't be alarmed if you feel something brush against your foot. However, if you feel anything trying to tug you down, call you. all for the lifeguards immediately. Rule number three.

Storms are uncommon at Lake Serenity. However, in the event of one, the storm siren will go off. You must immediately evacuate the beach and find shelter inside when the siren sounds. Do not get into a vehicle. Do not try to go anywhere. Just find the closest dwelling and stay inside with all doors locked until the storm passes. Rule number four.

There's an area of the lake cordoned off at the far west corner. Swimming is prohibited there. If you see someone in that section of the lake crying for help, you must ignore them. Don't worry, the lifeguards have notified the park ranger, I assure you. Rule number five. Speaking of lifeguards, there are only five lifeguards. there are only five lifeguards here at Lake Serenity. Their names and photos can be found on the next page.

If you see anyone else claiming to be a lifeguard, please immediately call the Park Ranger's office. Rule number six. One of the reasons Lake Serenity is such a popular vacation destination is that it affords beautiful views of the mountains, the forest, and the sky. Sunsets are especially beautiful. However, if you ever see a reflection in the water that doesn't belong, for example, the reflection of a person that actually isn't there, leave the beach immediately. Rule number seven, if you're out on a boat of any kind, including but not limited, to kayaks, canoes, paddle boats, and small rowboats, be aware of a strange optical illusion that a occurs in roughly the middle of the lake. If you row into this area, you will not be able to see the shoreline in any direction. If this happens, do not call for help. That will only attract unwanted attention. Instead, begin shouting, lost boat. One of the lifeguards will come out to you

and guide you safely to shore. Do not try to navigate to shore by yourself. Rule number eight We have many turtles and fish that may poke their heads above water. However, if you ever see anything that looks larger than a turtle, roughly larger than a foot wide, please notify the lifeguards and leave the beach. And rule number nine, don't feed the ducks. Wow, I told my wife Ruth. That is a lot of rules.

I was immediately starting to regret our decision to come here, but she told me it wasn't that weird. She told me private lake communities often have strict rules. The lake by her parents' house, for example, instructed people to empty their pockets of loose change before swimming. Apparently, the fish kept eating the dropped change and it was causing problems. So I brushed it off, and we began to plan our day. An hour later, we were driving down to the beach. Even though the house was lakefront, swimming was only allowed at a designated beach. In addition to the list of rules, there was a sign that read no swimming in our backyard, tilted askew. Olivia and Noah ran down to the water immediately. Ruth and I followed, setting up several yards

from the water. Ruth sat under the umbrella and pulled out a book. Well, I'm going to swim, I told her. You sure you don't want to join me. She shook her head. So I made my way out into the water. Now, to be honest, I've never been that fond of legs. There's something off-putting about the greenish-brown color, basically the color of the muck at the bottom. Whenever I swim out past where I can stand, All I can think about are snapping turtles just beneath me, along with huge fish and water snakes, and long, mushy fingers of seaweed reaching up towards my toes. This vacation was for the kids, not for me. The water was cold.

As soon as I stepped in, it was like little needles pricking my skin. Didn't seem to bother the kids, though. Olivia and Noah were already floating on pool noodles near the rope, arguing about how to mine diamonds in Minecraft. I slowly waded out, further and further. The water got thicker, muddier. I couldn't see my feet at the bottom. The sun beat down on my face, very hot. I closed my eyes, held my breath, and I dove underwater. Immediately all sound cut off. All the laughter, splashing, arguing.

It suddenly dropped to a distant echo. It seemed quieter under the water than it should be, like the water itself was absorbing sound. I opened my eyes, but all I could see was greenish-brown water. I came up. Noise exploded. The water dripping down my heart.

face turned ice-cold. I looked around to see Olivia and Noah, still arguing near the rope, floating on their pool noodles. I dove back under. The sound caught off again. Distant echoes of voices, slight vibrations of people splashing, swimming, like simply going underwater had transported me into a different world. Except this time in the quiet, I heard something. Singing. The sound didn't have the same quality as the distant sounds of the swimmers. It didn't seem dulled or muffled by the water.

In fact, it almost sounded like someone was humming underwater. Right next to me. I came up again, rubbing the water out of my eyes. No one was there. Olivia and Noah were in a splash fight now, several yards away from me. Ruth was still reading her book on the beach. All the other people were even further away.

I was alone. Slowly, I tilted my head, so one ear went underwater. Sure enough, the singing returned. A slow, lilting melody. I frowned and pulled my ear out of the water. Then I jumped back. For a split second, I thought I saw something, something under the water. Something pale and white just floating there next to me.

Roughly the size and shape of a person. But there was nothing there now, except murky brown water. "'Wo, Dad, you okay?' Noah asked. "'Yeah,' I said, finally tearing my eyes from the water and looking at him. "'Did the rules say anything about singing in the water?' I asked. "'I don't know,' he said. "'Ask Mom. I tilted my head and put my ear underwater again. This time I didn't hear anything.'

Must have just been some kid humming underwater, or something. And what I saw, the reflections must have just confused me, and my brain filled in the details. I made up some excuse about staying hydrated and convinced the kids to come out of the water with me for a few minutes. Then I sat next to roof under the umbrella. You know, I heard this weird singing or humming underwater. You remember if the rules said anything about the,

that? I don't think so, she replied. Why would the rules say anything about that? I don't know, I replied. I shook off the feeling, and soon after the kids and I got back in the water. Ruth finally came in with us, and the four of us floated under the bright blue sky. After a while, the incident faded from my mind. It was so nice, so beautiful. beautiful, so serene here. I could see why they called it Lake Serenity. We got home, ate dinner, and went to sleep early. As I got into bed, I was convinced that we were going to have the best vacation ever. How wrong I was. Around 2 a.m., I woke up to use the bathroom. On my way back, something out the window caught my eye.

There was a light out on the water. Like someone was out there in a boat. Okay, yeah, yeah. That was definitely one of the rules. No boating after sundown. I watched the light bobbed gently up and down. Then I headed downstairs and dialed the park ranger's number into my phone. Hello?

A man picked up after the third room. ring. Hello, he said. Hi, yeah, yeah, I'm sorry to call you so late, but there's a boat on the lake, and these rules said I'm supposed to call you and report it. I looked up at the window, and my heart dropped. The light was closer, a lot closer, maybe only 10, 20 yards from shore. It looks like the boat's coming towards our house, I told him. And that's when the man's entire demeanor changed. Listen to me very carefully, he said in a quiet voice. Get into a room without any windows.

Everyone in the house. Lock the door and don't come out until I call you back. The phone beeped in my ear. The call had ended. I ran to the kid's bedroom first and woke him up, taking them into the bathroom. "'What are you doing?' Olivia complained as she stumbled across the hallway. "'I told her to just stay in the bathroom with Noah while I got their mom.

"'I ran to roof, shook her awake, and led her to the bathroom, too. "'By now, I could tell the light was incredibly close. "'It was shining through the curtains drawn over the bedroom windows. "'Just for good measure. I shielded my eyes from the windows as we walked across the hall, instructing Ruth to do the same. We made it into the bathroom. The four of us squashed in the tiny space, and I locked the door. What's going on?

Noah asked. Nothing, I replied. There's just someone out there, but the park ranger's coming. He's going to deal with it, but he told us to stay in here, okay? Just some teenagers causing trouble trying to rob people or something. It's okay. As we stood there, huddled in the dark, humid bathroom, I noticed that light was coming from under the crack of the door. It was so bright, like someone was holding a spotlight to the windows.

Do not look at the light, I told them. Even though the rules hadn't said that. It just felt natural. There was something horribly off with it. About a minute later, the light cut off. Seconds later, my phone rang. It was the park ranger telling me that he had dealt with it, that it was just some kids trying to drink out of view of their parents.

Oh, you know how it is with teenagers in the summer. They get up to all kinds of trouble. He said. His voice was smooth and slick, a completely different tone than he'd had before. I could tell he was lying. The next morning, Ruth and I got into a fight. I think we should go home, I told her. What, just because of those kids?

Yeah, I replied. What if they break in? What if they kidnap Noah or Olivia? We spent 500 on this place. Nick. It's not refundable. So what? We're going to just lose it all? Yeah, you know what? I'm okay with that if it means staying alive, I replied. A dramatic eye roll and sigh from Ruth. To give her credit, I was always anxious about safety. I was the kind of guy who checked locks five times before going to sleep. I set up security cameras around our house. Even for this,

vacation, I'd ruled out a few locations on account of being unsafe, like Pine Falls, which has a huge cliff unprotected by a guardrail. So while I was right this time, my wife's doubts weren't completely out of left field. The kids are going to be so disappointed if we leave, Ruth finally said, her tone softening. They're having so much fun here, and Olivia was so excited for that panel boat ride. We talked it over more, and eventually, I was persuaded to stay. Of course now, I wish I hadn't listened to her. I wish I'd grab the kids and forced us all to go home,

even if it meant them whining and moaning the entire four-hour drive back. But that morning, I had no idea the horrors. that awaited us. That afternoon, we decided to rent the paddle boat, the entire family out on the lake, in 90-degree weather. Sounds fun, doesn't it? But Olivia really wanted to go, so I figured we might as well get it over with now. The four of us climbed in, the boat rocking slightly in the dark water. At least it wasn't a canoe, I told myself. I couldn't stand the way those things threatened to tip at the slightest movement. Olivia and Roof steered us first to the shoreline at the opposite end of the lake.

I'll admit that it was kind of cool, seeing the deep forest from the water, all the little squirrels and chipmunks moving in the underbrush, in the cool of the shade. We even passed the forbidden swimming area, a bright red rope cordoned off the area, and in the middle, floated an orange buoy with a sign that read no swimming. There were two signs at the shoreline as well, faded in the sun, letters partially peeling off. Olivia giggled. Look, Mom, it says, oh, swimming. We paddled past our own dock, and by some long reeds that held some fish. Then, mercifully, the boat rise. The boat rise, was over. It was time to go back to shore. And that's when everything went wrong. Noah and I were

looking down at our phones as Ruth and Olivia steered us back across the leg. It was then that I heard Ruth's voice, slightly scared. Um, how do we get back? I looked up and I realized I couldn't see the shoreline anymore. Just dark, muddy water extending in every direction, reflecting the hot summer sun. What the hell? I whispered. And then I remembered the rules. There was that one part of the lake in the middle with a weird optical illusion. You wouldn't be able to see the shore the rules had said. What were we supposed to do again? Call for the lifeguards. Call for the lifeguards. Call for for help? I think we came from that way, Noah said, pointing in a random direction.

No, it's definitely that way, Olivia replied. Do you have a compass? Roof asked me. Why the hell would I just be carrying around a compass? I replied. We argued for a few minutes. The water gently lapped at the plastic signs of the paddleboat. the shore did not come into view.

The kids began to panic. Olivia cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted help. And that made me remember. No, no, no, no, stop, I said. I remember the rule said not to call for help. Yeah, yeah, that's right. We're supposed to call lost boat. I cupped my hands around my mouth.

and shouted as loud as I could, Lost boat! And then motion caught my eye. I turned to see waves in the leg, as if something was moving just beneath the surface. The waves were making a beeline for our boat. What's that? Noah asked. Lost boat!

I yelled, my voice echoing across. the dark water. The water churned. Whatever was under the surface was only a few yards away. I grabbed Olivia and Noah's hands. Ruth did the same. Don't let go of my hand, okay? Whatever happens, don't let go. And then it happened. The thing under the water collided with the side of our boat. I could see a split-second glimpse of whitish skin under the way. and then the boat was rocking wildly back and forth, water spraying into the air. Ruth's body went backwards. If we weren't all holding hands, she would have fallen.

There was an impact from directly under the boat then, and this time it was too much. The boat flipped over, and the four of us plunged into the cold water. No sound, just as before. only cold, murky water pressing in on all directions. I opened my eyes and looked around in the blurry darkness. Miraculously, both kids were still holding my hands. I looked up, and I could see the dark shape of the paddle boat floating above us, and another light shape, too blurry to make out. Ruth, I thought.

I kicked right, tugging on my kids' hands, pulling them away from the boat. Then I kicked towards the surface. Both kids came up. But Ruth didn't. There was a splash behind me, but it wasn't her. Several yards away, a lifeguard was frantically rowing towards us in a yellow rescue raft. Go to the raft, I said. before diving back under the water.

I had to find a roof. I dove under and opened my eyes, scanning the blurry, murky water. It took me only a few seconds to find her, a whitish shape among the dark water, floating motionless, slowly descending. I kicked towards her, my heart pounding,

my lungs burned, but I didn't stop until I got to her. I reached out and grabbed her arm, and I wasn't Ruth. The skin was too loose on her wrist, shifting and sliding under my fingertips. I looked up towards the person's face, and even though everything was still so blurry,

I saw that there was something horribly wrong with it. Where there should have been eyes, there were just two gaping holes staring at me, and it looked like it was smiling. A blurry grinning mouth across its face. Forgetting I was underwater, I opened my mouth and screamed. Bubbles erupted, streaming towards the surface.

And then something grabbed my arm. My head broke the surface. I coughed, I weezed. The lifeguard grabbed me and pulled me onto the raft. But Ruth, I choked. She's still down there. No, she isn't, the lifeguard said. I turned around to see Ruth at the front of the raft, her arms around our kids.

The lifeguard began to paddle frantically, kicking up water. I stared at the overturned paddle boat, slowly sinking. I didn't see any waves, any shape swimming towards us. After a minute, I saw the shoreline again, the noisy beach, the kids running to and fro, the teenagers splashing each other. It was like it suddenly blinked into existence. The sound, the sights, everything returning all of the,

once. I didn't spend time wondering how that could be possible. We were safe, and that's all that mattered. We ran back to the car, cold and shaking. We didn't say a word as I drove us back to the Airbnb. As soon as I parked the car, I turned to the three of them. We are leaving, I said. Now. Roof didn't fight me this time. We grabbed our stuff as quickly as we could, throwing it into our bags and piling it at the front door. We worked quickly, silently. We all knew we had to get out of there.

But then it happened. A droning, high-pitched sound pierced the air, rattling the windows. The storm siren. I ran to the window. Outside, I could see the dark storm clouds rolling in as thick and black as night, clustering over the leg as if it was a magnet for them. My heart hammered in my chest. The rules were very clear on this one. Stay inside. Do not get in a vehicle. Do not try to go anywhere.

Stay inside until the storm passes. Ruth ran to the door, picking up our bags. I don't care about the stupid rules. We are leaving now, she said. We can't, I replied. We have to stay inside until the storm is over. She stared at me. Then she dropped the bags and drew the dead bolt. We went around the house, double-checking that every window and door was locked,

then we huddled in the family room in front of the big-picture window that looked out over the lake. Storm warning, a mechanical voice sounded over the droning siren. Find shelter immediately. Ruth squeezed my hand. The rain started, sheets of it pelting down out of the water, turning the water. the surface from smooth glass to a war of ripples. So much for serenity. The storm siren droned on for a few more seconds, the pitch eerily turning downwards, sounding like a horribly off-key song. And then there was silence, except for the rain drumming on the roof.

Will they let us know when the storm's over? Will the siren go off again? Olivia asked. not taking her eyes off the lake. I don't know, I replied. I guess we can leave when the rain stops. A finger of lightning shot across the sky, fracturing into a thousand pieces. I counted the seconds. Six seconds later,

a rumble of thunder sounded, shaking the entire house. The lights flickered off. Okay, it's okay, don't be. panic, I told the kids, as Olivia began to whimper. In the dim light, I stumbled over to the kitchen and began pulling out drawers, looking for a flashlight, a candle, matches anything. Another clap of thunder sounded, rattling the windows. On the fourth drawer, I found a lighter. After another minute, I found a few long, fancy-looking candles and a pewter candelabra.

I lit them and set it on the floor in front of us. The orange flames flickered and brightened, casting the entire place in strange shadows. Look, it's going to be all right, okay? We just have to wait out the storm, I said. So we sat there, looking out at the leg. The rain let up slightly, but then the lightning started with a vengeance, streaking across the sky. I sat there holding Ruth's hand,

waiting for it to pass. And then I saw something that didn't make sense. Next to the dock, there was a dark reflection in the water, as if someone was standing on the dock, dressed head to toe in black, with white skin.

Except there was no one there. The rules said something about that, didn't they? But, but what? My brain was so fried with panic I didn't remember. I got up and ran to the sheet of paper. Okay, okay, all it said was leave the beach immediately. We weren't even on the beach, so we should be okay. I sat back down on the couch, staring at the reflection. Something wrong? Ruth asked. Do you see that? I asked. pointing to the reflection.

But before she could answer, it moved. It was walking towards the shore. Walking towards us. But we're safe. The rules just said stay off the beach, I told myself. We're safe. The reflection disappeared from the water

as it stepped off the dock and into our backyard, and as it got closer, I noticed there was a space in the pelting rain. Something roughly human-shaped that the rain was bouncing off rather than going through. Dad? Noah started. I replied. The creature, the person, the ghost, whatever it was, stood outside the window. for several minutes. When the rain let up,

it was nearly invisible, but as soon as it began to pelt down again, I could see the figure clearly. When lightning flashed across the sky, I could almost see the contours of its pale face, its black dress rippling in the wind, its long hair wet and matted against its shoulders. I told myself it was just my imagination.

But I knew it wasn't. After several more minutes. I couldn't take it. Sitting here, watching this thing stand in the rain, watching us. I got up and began to pace the room. I checked my phone, no service. I forced myself not to look at the window and instead focused on the tiniest details of the cabin.

like the knots in the wood that seemed to look like faces. The fake succulent on the coffee table. The beach this way sign, which seemed more like a threat now. The books on the shelf against the wall. And then I stopped. There was one book that stuck out like a sore thumb. It was much, much older than the others. cloth-teel cover, with gold-embossed lettering on the spine, read the history of Lake Serenity.

I pulled it out and flipped it open. I scanned the first page. In total, 32 people have gone missing at Lake Serenity since 1900. Despite the lake being dredged several times, No bodies have ever been found. Those more inclined to the supernatural believe the lake is cursed. I flipped the page. There was a photo of a pale woman in a long, fluttery black dress,

with a caption, Young Widow drowned. 1918. Suspected murder. Killer never found. Next page. Three men in a small motorboat lost in storm. Nineteen sixty-two.

Dad? Olivia asked. Her voice shaking. I looked up and all the blood drained from my face. Ruth's eyes were sunken back into her eye sockets, hidden in deep shadow. Her skin was a sickly white, drooping and hid. hanging off her face, like it was too loose for her skull. She looked like the creature I saw in the lake.

Not blurry this time. As the candlelight flickered over her face, all traces of Ruth faded away. Her eyes sunk further back, until I couldn't see them anymore, just empty pits of darkness staring at me. Run. I said, lunging to my kids and grabbing them by the arms.

The creature made a guttural sound, and then with a wet slap, it fell on its hands and knees to the floor. It made its way towards us, grinning all the while, empty eye-sockets staring up at us. I scrambled to unlock the dead bolt. The storm wasn't over, but as soon as the door was open, we ran. We made it to the car. Door slammed, engine revved. I pulled out onto the road, kicking up gravel as I hit the gas. The kids sobbed in the backseat. I kept my eyes on the road.

I was numb. My only focus was to get my kids safely out of Lake Serenity. And that's my story. My wife, Ruth, was the third. 33rd claimed by Lake Serenity, please learn from my mistake. If you ever see an ad for a beautiful lake among deep wilderness, promising amazing sunsets, and fun for the whole family, don't go, I beg you, don't go.

That lake has claimed enough victims.