Lighthouse Horror Podcast - I Work At A HAUNTED Grocery Store. It Has Strange RULES | Scary Stories

Episode Date: November 2, 2023

I might not survive.    Story from Blair Daniels Make sure to check out more of their work at u/BlairDaniels                          Original Post: All the cells in my body are dead. But I’m still alive. Update : r/blairdaniels  Original YouTube link: I Work At A HAUNTED Grocery Store. It Has 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 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!

I saw the job listing two weeks ago. Wanted. Night guard at West Market in New Hope, Pennsylvania. 12 a.m. 6 a.m. shift. $21 an hour. And the whole thing struck me as odd right off the bat. What kind of grocery store needs a security guard when it's closed? Was Prime really that bad?

But I needed money and badly. So two days later, after a phone interview with a man named Clive, I showed up for the first shift. As soon as I pulled up, I understood why they needed a night guard. The grocery store sat at the edge of a run-down strip mall, large signs reading, space for rent, hung in the store windows. But judging by the dusty glass and flickering street lamps, no one had taken them up on the offer in years.

I parked near the front door, and as I approached the building, I saw a woman hurrying away from the store. You must be Aaron. She said breathlessly. The night guard. Uh, yeah, that's me, I answered. Okay, well Clive left you some instructions.

I put them on the conveyor belt at Register 1. She gave me a polite nod, and then stepped around me, heading for the only other car in the parking lot. Okay, thanks, I said. Be friendly. my new inner voice said. She's your new co-worker. I turned around.

Hey, what's your name? But she was already diving into the car. The door slammed, the car reeled out of the parking lot space, and then she was gone. So? I turned back towards the store. The parking lot was completely empty now,

and the nearest street light was flickering erratically. A cold wind swept in, whipping a crumpled paper bag across the parking lot. Well, here goes nothing, I muttered to myself. I stepped up to the store. The glass doors squeaked as they opened for me, and I stepped inside. Now, despite its outward appearance,

the store was actually pretty nice inside. Bright fluorescent lights shone from overhead. Jazzy music played from hidden speakers. I headed over to register one, where a folded piece of paper was waiting for me. I flipped it open, and I began to read, Dear Aaron, the note said, Welcome to the West family. We sincerely hope you enjoy your first shift. To help you, we've compiled a list of rules that should make your shift

as easy as our fresh-backed apple pie. Rule number one, as Nightgarde, you are expected to patrol the store every half hour to make sure nothing is a mess. You may spend the rest of your time in the break room at the back of the store checking the security camera feeds. Rule 2. Do not go down aisle 7. Do not look down aisle 7. Rule number 3. If you hear a knocking sound coming from the freezers in the frozen food aisle, ignore

it. Number 4. If you see a shopping cart that hasn't been put away, please return it to the cart station at the front of the store immediately. immediately. Number 5. Don't be alarmed if you find a pool of blood in the meat aisle. Sometimes our meat packages leak.

Simply head to the storage closet, get the mop and bucket, and clean it up. However, don't step in the puddle or touch the blood in any way. Number 6. If you see a woman in the store, immediately go to the break room and stay there until she leaves. Do not call the police or report a boy. break in. Do not make eye contact with her. Number seven, the music we play throughout the store is a pre-recorded disc of instrumental jazz. If the music ever stops, immediately go to the break room and stay there until it resumes. Number eight, do not under any circumstances

end your shift early. Thank you so much. And again, I hope you enjoy your shift. Clive. I stared at the rules, rereading them slowly. There was a weird woman in the store. Avoid aisle seven. I had never been given instructions like this in my life, even when I worked as a bouncer at a nightclub in the bad part of town. Maybe it was a test. They wanted to see how well I could follow instructions, no matter how absurd they were. I looked up at the security camera, staring down at me from the corner. Okay, challenge accepted. I glanced at my phone, now 12.06 a.m. Might as well get my first patrol out of the way before getting settled in.

It was odd walking through the store when it was so empty and quiet. All the breads and muffins had been stored away somewhere. White plastic film had been pulled down over the vegetable display to keep the coal then. When I got to the end, I made a right into the meat section. Sheets of plastic had been pulled over the meat poolers too. I saw flashes of red through the gaps of massive rib-eye and sirloin steaks and other big slabs of meat with a bone still intact. While I wasn't a vegetarian, I never really liked the sight of raw meat, you know, I turned instead to the aisles. Isle 3. Pasta and sauces all lined up on the shelves, glinting

in the fluorescent light. Isle 4, cookies and snacks, aisle 5, aisle 6. And then I remembered, yeah, all right. I wasn't supposed to look at Isle 7. I forced myself to look down at the floor. Yeah, I mean, it was stupid, but they told me not to look. On the off chance, they were going to check the CCTV footage later to grade my performance, I had to follow every rule. I continued farther into the store. A few minutes later, I found the break room. A nondescript brown door with a little square window cut into it. I took note of its location for later. As soon as I was done with this patrol, I was going to break out my laptop and finish watching Friday the 13th. Part 4. I continued I continued on until I was at the west end of the store, the frozen section.

I turned down the aisle, heading back towards the front. And that's when I saw it. A shopping cart parked a skew in the middle of the aisle. I huffed. Of all the rules, this was the one that annoyed me the most. I was hired to be a security guard, not a clean-up crew. Wasn't it other employees' jobs to put all the carts away at closing time? I began pushing it towards the front of the store.

The wheels rolled slowly across the tile floor. The jazz music played softly in the background. I turned the corner and I walked past the cash registers, heading towards the front door, and that's when I heard it. A soft sound, barely audible over the music. I stopped moving, and I tried to listen. several seconds of silence went by

and then I heard it again it sounded like someone crying and the hairs on my neck stood on end there's no one in here the door's been locked this whole time unless a customer accidentally stayed past closing time maybe that employee

you know the woman I'd run into in the parking lot didn't notice them and she locked up before they could get out. Who's there? I called, breaking into a run. Where are you? They didn't reply, though. They just kept sobbing.

I continued in the direction of the sound, calling out to them and saying everything's going to be okay. But then I stopped dead. The sound, it was coming from Isle 7. Do not look down, aisle seven. The rules had been very clear about that. I stopped just short of the aisle, next to an N-cap display of mayonnaise,

and I carefully positioned myself so I was hidden. All right, I'm going to help you. I called out. Can you tell me what happened? And they finally spoke, but they didn't answer my question. Help me. The voice cried. Please. I wanted to step into the aisle now. My foot was halfway off the floor, ready to run in and get them. But something stopped me. A gut instinct, a little alarm bell going off in my head. Because out of all the aisles, what were the chances this person would be in Isle 7? And besides, they were safe. They were in an empty store with me.

It's not like they were in a dark alleyway in the middle of the night. Why don't you, uh, come out of that aisle? I called. Then I'll be able to help you. Please. The voice replied. Help me. Uh, right. This is stupid, I thought.

Clearly some person got stuck in here after closing time and they're scared. Just go into the aisle and help them. them get home. But there was this other part of my brain, this instinctual lizard brain part. And it was screaming at me, not to move a muscle. You need me to call someone? I tried. Your parents? The police? Help me. The voice pleaded again. The help me. It sounded very similar Every time they said it, an emphasis on the word me. It almost sounded like a recording or some AI generated thing, looping over and over. It didn't sound natural.

All right, all right, come out of the aisle, I said. Come out and I'll help you. The sobs got louder, faster, hysterical. Help me, the voice pleaded again, in a desperate tone that made my stomach twist. I stood there, pressed against the mayonnaise display. Listening to them sob was difficult, even if it did sound slightly unnatural. I could call the police, I thought. They'd know what to do.

Except I'd left my cell phone with my backpack at Cash Register 1, and... Getting it would mean crossing aisle 7. The rules didn't say anything about walking past aisle 7 though. They just said I shouldn't go down it or look at it. And I couldn't just stand here and do nothing. What if it really was someone who needed help? A child maybe who'd sprained their ankle and couldn't get up. All right, uh, don't worry, okay, I'm going to get my phone and I'm going to call the police.

I called out. And then I took a deep breath and I stepped across the threshold of Isle 7 towards Register 1. And as soon as I took a step, the crying stopped. Just like that. Violent sobbing. And then in an instant, nothing. Like a switch had flipped. And then the footsteps started. loud, slapping footsteps of someone running down the aisle.

They sounded way too heavy to be a child, and they were coming straight at me. My heart dropped. It's a trap. And they're coming for me, and I'm probably going to die here. But as soon as I made it across the aisle, the footsteps stopped. All I heard were the song. soft jazz tunes playing through the speakers overhead. I ran as fast as I could.

I ran to the break room, completely forgetting about the cart I was supposed to return. The break room was small and cramped. The little square window in the door had been blocked out with construction paper from the inside. The only source of light came from the computer screen on the desk, displaying the security camera feeds. I scrolled through the feeds, and I quickly noticed that none of them offered coverage of Isle 7. It seemed like the cameras were intentionally placed to avoid that aisle. After searching the grainy black and white video for anything out of place, I leaned back

in the chair and I closed my eyes. When I finally opened them again, it was almost 12.30. Time for my next patrol. I didn't want to go. I felt safe here, locked up in this little room, but I also knew I wouldn't be safe if I didn't listen to the rules. I shuddered, imagining what would have happened to me if I'd gone down aisle 7. I pulled myself out of my seat and I headed for the door.

And the store was totally silent. No hysterical sobbing or pounding footsteps. And I started my patrol near the back, walking up aisle. 17. Cans of food glinted on the shelves as I passed, but when I glanced at them, I didn't see any labels I recognized. No chef ravioli or giant green men, just generically labeled cans of meat stew. In fact, all the aisle had was meat stew, the same cans over and over and over again. the end and I turned right towards the front of the store. And that's when I realized that I had already broken one of the rules. The cart? I hadn't returned it. And it wasn't where

I'd left it. Instead of haphazardly parked near Isle 7, it now sat next to one of the cash registers, like some ghost man was checking out his groceries. I paused for a second. hands hovering above the handle. And then I grabbed it and headed towards the door. Outside, the parking lot was pitch black. Not a single street lamp. The shopping carts are only a few feet from the door, I told myself.

Just go out and back in. It'll take like two seconds. I did it as quickly as possible. I ran into the darkness, slam the shopping cart into the row, And I hurried back inside. And then I shut the doors and I clicked the lock. Okay, that wasn't that bad.

I said to myself, letting out a sigh of relief. For a second, I reveled in the piece of the store. The silence. The safety of being locked inside with no one else but me. But then I stopped. The silence. Wait, wait. The jazz music wasn't playing.

How long had it been off? I'd been so preoccupied with returning the cart. I wasn't even paying attention. I broke into a sprint towards the back of the store, cookies and snacks flashing by me. And then I swirved right, and I sprinted into the break room. I pulled out the list of rules, and I read them over again. Do not under any circumstances end your shift early. Why do you write that?

Was it just because he didn't want anyone flaking out on him? Or if I left early, would something horrible happen in me? Because I really, really wanted to leave. I opened my backpack, pulled out the soda I'd brought, and I popped it open. I took a sit, scrolling through the security feed, and thought, five more hours. The next four patrols went fairly well. The rules didn't say how long they had to be, so every 30 minute I sprinted a lap around the store as fast as I could.

The whole thing only took about a minute. And then for the other 29, I locked myself in the break room. On the second patrol, I heard knocking as I ran down the freezer aisle. It started as light tapping across the glass. And then it grew into loud thumps, like someone was slamming their palms against the glass doors. As per the rules, I ignored it. I just kept running until I made it to the break room. On the last patrol, the music had cut out again, so I quickly detoured and I got to the break room as quickly as I could.

The silence ringing in my ears. And now, here I was in the break room with three hours left. I stared at my phone's clock, ticking slowly towards 3 a.m. I stood up, shaking out my nervous energy, preparing for my next sprint. I'd actually been a runner back in high school, but in the past 10 years I'd gotten way out of shape. The last patrol had left me panting and out of breath, my legs aching. It was time. My hand closed around the doorknob. I paused. Okay, three. two, one. Go. I reached the door open and I shot out into the store. But I didn't get very far because there was an enormous pool of blood on the floor. I froze.

It was like all the air was sucked out of my lungs. I stared at the blood shining under the fluorescent lights. The rule said to clean it up, I thought. But that would take at least ten minutes. It wasn't safe out here. I swallowed. Then I hurried to the supply closet. Got a mop and bucket.

Then I started cleaning as fast as I could. The job was very messy. I slid the mop through the blood and then I dumped it into the bucket. Then rinsed, repeat. The soapy water turned red. A few times at almost. splashed up and landed on me. But I did it. I cleaned it all up without touching a drop. Unfortunately, by the time I was finished, it was 3.27, time for my next patrol.

I was too tired to run, so I settled for a brisk walk around the store. I headed up through the frozen food, and now I could see the handprints on the glass doors, handprints of all sizes, tilted and smudged, except their proportions looked all wrong with fingers that were far too long and too thin. I averted my eyes, and I kept going. Two and a half more hours. My footsteps clicked against the tile floor. The jazz was starting to grate on my nerves. I must have heard the same looping saxophone melody like twenty times now. It made me want to punch something. Sighing, I continued towards the produce section, quickly walking past the aisles.

And then I stopped. Something caught my eye in one of the aisles. I backed up and took a better look. There was someone standing in Isle 9, a woman. She wore this blue linen dress and black high heels, long black black hair cascaded down her back almost to her waist. She faced away from me, standing totally still. Her thin white arms hung limply at her sides. In her hand, there was a basket filled with cuts of raw meat. The rule echoed in my head, if you see a woman in the store, immediately go

to the break room. Do not make eye contact. So I slowly backed up as quietly as I possibly could, and then I started down the next aisle towards the break room. I heard her footsteps echo against the tile, and I hurry towards the break room. But then I stopped. Her footsteps weren't coming from behind me. They were coming from in front of me. I averted my eyes to the floor. And just then I saw two black high-heeled shoes step into the aisle. I stared at the floor. Do not make eye contact? The words repeated over and over in my head. But I had to get to the break room and she was standing in my way. All I could see were her shiny, high-heeled shoes and the little drops of blood that leaked out of the meat packages in her basket.

dropping on the floor. I backed up. That was the only way I could go. I kept my eyes on the floor, careful not to look up, but she was following me. For every step I took, I saw a shiny black heel come into view, attached to a thin, white, elongated leg. She was keeping time with me. I walked faster. So did she.

I wheeled around and I broke into a sprint. I ran down a random aisle and I sprinted towards the break room. But halfway down the aisle, I was forced to stop. A shopping cart was parked across the middle, blocking my way. And not just one cart. Several of them stacked up in a teetering tower that was nearly 10 feet high. I was trapped. I backed away my heart pounding.

I could hear slow, methodical footsteps coming towards me, like a cat stalking its prey. I took my chances. I turned around, sprinted back out into the open, and I stepped into the next aisle, and no, no. I knew it instantly. A tattered lump of gray clothing and sickly, pale blue, skin sat on the floor, the person, the creature, the thing folded in on itself in a pose like a crying child. But it wasn't anything even resembling a human. It had several strange lumps and appendages. And worst of all, it didn't have a head. I knew then I had stepped into Isle 7.

and I immediately reversed direction, but not before the thing unfolded itself and began to move toward me. I whipped around and I started screaming, sprinting down the next aisle, and miraculously, I made it to the end in one piece. I veered sharply left towards the break room. Almost there, almost there.

My hand hit the doorknop. I reached it open. and I dove inside. And then I collapsed in the chair panting. I sucked in a breath, staring at the locked door. Am I really safe in here? Technically, the rules never said it would be safe. Maybe staying in here only decreased my chance of death. I turned my attention to the security camera feed on the monitor. It showed the middle of the store, and from what I could see, The aisles were empty. No trace of the woman. I switched to the next feed. The produce section empty. I switched to the next one and I jumped. She was standing right there. She was right in front of the break room door. She stood so still. The image could have been a photograph. Except for the blood slowly. slowly dripping from the meat in her basket. I swallowed again and glanced away from the monitor at the door.

My heart slammed into my ribs when I saw her shadow under the door. Go away, I thought. Just go away, I pleaded. The shadow of her head in the window tilted, as if contemplating her next move. and now I knew why the window had been covered. I forced my eyes away, and I looked back at the screen. She was still standing there, except there was something different about the way she was standing.

I squinted at the grainy black and white image, trying to figure out what was going on. When my eyes finally fell on her heels, I realized her feet, her feet, were facing forward. But I was still looking at the back of her head, at the long black hair going down to her waist. Okay. Either her hair was hanging over her face, or she turned her head all the way around.

It must have been 20 minutes before she began to walk away from that door, and I couldn't tell if it was just the low frame rate of these crummy cameras, but her movements looked jerky, her body lurching with every step. It made me sick to watch. And when she disappeared from the screen, I let out a sigh of relief. My hands and legs were shaking. I felt weak. Okay, okay, think.

The rule said to wait until she left. All I had to do was watch the feed by the front door. As soon as I see her leave the store, I'd be safe. After a few minutes of sitting there, waiting for my heart rate to return to normal, I forced my fingers back to the keyboard. I pressed the arrow key to move to the next feed, and then the next and the next, looking for the camera at the front of the store. And, oh my God, her face filled the entire screen. Her eyes were terrifying. They were pure white, no pupils, no irises, just pure white eyes threaded with spidery veins. I screamed and jumped

back. And then I shut my eyes. The rule said I couldn't make eye contact, right? Did this count? You know, through the screen. I shuddered and I covered my face with my hands. My entire body was shaking. And when I finally took a peek through my fingers, I saw her rapidly crawling away down the wall like some kind of spider. And then she pushed through the glass doors and disappeared into the night. She was gone. I was safe, or safer at least, in this cursed grocery store. I glanced at the clock. 3.58 a.m. Time to patrol that I really didn't want to.

But I forced myself to swing the door open and I ran as fast as I could through the store. I saw shopping carts stacked in teetering towers, heard hands pounding against the freezer doors, saw little spots of blood on the shiny tile from the meat in the woman's basket. And then a minute later I was done. I locked myself in the break room,

and for the first time in years, I just cried. The remaining patrols went by without incident, and though I did hear more sobbing from Isle 7, and more banging from the freezers, and then the hour had come, 6 a.m. My heart soared at the sight of the pink dawn sky through the glass doors. I was safe

I was free When I glanced out into the parking lot I saw a few cars pulling in disgruntled groggy employees clutching coffees heading towards me And as soon as the first one came in I flew out of the store

ran to my car And I got the hell out of there as fast as I could I have never felt such relief such happiness. I felt like a new man. All my problems, even my financial ones, seemed small compared to what I'd just been through. When I pulled onto the main road,

I rolled down my windows, and I flicked on the radio. But it wasn't my usual classic rock station that blared through the speakers. Instead, I heard the upbeat tune have a saxophone. And as I listened to that horrible, looping melody, I realized that my days as a night guard for West Market

may not be over yet.