Lighthouse Horror Podcast - I work at a Radio Station. They have STRANGE RULES | Scary Stories

Episode Date: September 21, 2024

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

There's something very wrong with this radio station. I saw the job out a few days ago. Some radio station out in the desert was looking for a night shift DJ. The listing said 9 p.m. to 6 a.m. Now, I had never heard of this station before, but I was your typical struggling actor hoping to make it big in L.A. Even if it was just spinning tracks and chatting into a mic, it was a start, you know?

Besides, the pay was way higher than acting. So I hit them up. They hired me right away. They said the station needed me to start immediately, in fact. They said they'd give me a bonus if I showed up that same night. I arrived at the station way before my shift was supposed to start. The desert went on forever around the small building. I would have missed it if it weren't for the mass.

massive radio tower. It was huge, especially for such a small station. It was old and covered in rust. It creaked every time the wind blew. A small sign next to the door said Radio Harmony. On the doorknob on the front door, there was a key labeled Ben. Now the job wasn't glamorous, but I couldn't help but feel excited. I let myself in and let myself in, and the door was a key labeled Ben. I was a key labeled Ben. I was a looked around. The hiring manager told me I'd be alone at the station tonight. He also mentioned they never broadcasted during the day. Now the inside looked exactly how I expected. Small and functional. The office was cluttered with papers and coffee cups. Next to it was an old DJ booth from the 80s. Off to the side was a tiny bathroom. Luckily for me, they had a work-eastern. Luckily for me, they had a work

coffee machine. The place felt cozy, in a nuclear bunker kind of way. I wandered into the office, cleaning up random paper cups as I went. Figured I might as well tidy up a bit. I was going to spend the entire night here after all. On the desk was a manual on how to operate the equipment. I opened it, and I saw someone had left me a note. It was a piece of paper with my name on top in big, bold letters. Under it was a list of rules. I look them over one by one. Number one, do not ignore calls. Number two, always play the midnight record at 12 a.m. Number three, no dead air. Number four, never open the door for anyone who knocks twice. number five, end your shift with the goodbye song, and number six, do not leave the station during your shift.

Okay, not too bad, seemed easy enough. I made my way to the DJ booth, flicking on the lights as I passed. The space was cramped, but it had this retro charm to it. A single window looked out into the desert. Papers were piled up in the corners. Vinyl records lined the walls. An old mixing board sat on a desk. Connected to it was a phone, a bunch of different players, and a bulky old laptop.

I sat down and put on the headphones. This was it. This was my domain now. Settling into the DJ booth, it felt like stepping into a different world. I noticed a copy of the rule. had been taped on my desk. Huh, I guess they're really hammering these home, huh? I said to myself.

I checked my watch. Almost 9 p.m. I turned on the equipment, the lights and screen coming to life under my fingers. The laptop had a music database of the usual hits from 10 years ago. At the top of the list was the station ID. All right, showtime. I settled in. and clicked play.

It was old school. Just a simple four-note melody as a woman called out the station's name. As soon as the ID ended, the phone rang. Rule number one flashed in my mind. I picked up the phone and said, Radio Harmony, you're on the air.

The voice that came through was unexpected. Welcome, Ben Morris. excited for you to start the night. I blinked, confused. Thanks, but how did you? But before I could finish, the caller was gone. The line went dead. Now, I hadn't said my name on the air yet.

Maybe that was one of the station's staff. But I couldn't think about that now. One of the rules said no dead air, so I queued up dancing in the dark. seemed fitting. Here's a bit of the boss for you. I announced pressing play. The first hour of my shift at Radio Harmony.

Passed by smoothly. I found myself getting into a groove, introducing songs with a bit of backstory or fun fact here or there. I imagined I was talking to someone driving through the desert, or someone at home, who needed company after a long day at work. I'd sit my coffee between tracks. Glad the coffee machine did actually work. Occasionally, I'd look over at the rules and reread them.

I wanted to be very sure I didn't break any on my first night. Then, in the middle of a Stephen Tyler song, the phone rang. I cut off the music and took the call. It was the same guy who called me earlier. Can you play track 80? for me, he asked. Track 86, I repeated.

My eyes scanning our song list. He snapped at me, running out of patience. It was like a switch just flipped. Yes, track 86, you idiot. It's not that hard, kid. Do I need to come down there and show you how it's done? Okay, sir, I'm just not sure what you mean. I said.

I was panicking a little because we were still alive on air. Being harassed by some random caller was the last thing I needed. On my first night, no less. On the desk, are you stupid or something? Track 86. The caller continued. I moved papers around until I found what he wanted. buried under newspaper clippings was a cassette marked track 86.

I set it up as the caller continued to swear at me. I wondered if we'd get in trouble for broadcasting the kind of language he was using. But finally, the cassette played. It was a weird mix of woodwind instruments without lyrics. The angry caller's tone shifted completely once the music filled the air. "'Ah, thank you,' he said. His voice was now soft, almost sleepy, and then he hung up. Now that left me rattled. I glanced at the track length, ten minutes.

Well, if it kept that guy off my back, I would take it. It was a good time to make some coffee. But who the hell was that guy? I wondered if this was some kind of different station, the kind that attracted a dedicated fan base of weirdos. I wasn't even sure how far the station broadcasted. As I stood up, I couldn't notice how old everything looked. It was like nobody had come in here for ages. Dust covered almost everything.

I remembered that I hadn't actually met anyone from Radio Harmony in person, the only one I talked to, was the guy who hired me over the phone, said he was a former DJ. Was he the one who wrote out the rules? I got back just in time to catch the end of the weird song. The very second that it did, the phone rang again. And it was him, the same caller. Before he could say anything, I beat him to the punch. Who are you? You get a name, my man? I asked.

"'Yeah, I'm the caller. "'I've been listening since the very beginning,' he said. "'I was getting real tired of this guy. "'But he continued. "'Ben, do you know just how many serial killers bury their victims in the desert? "'I've seen him, you know. They're gorgeous. You want me to bring you some?

I was losing my patience. All right, listen, man, that's really sick, okay? I'm hanging up on you now, but you need to get checked in or something. I said. I slammed the phone down, much harder than I meant to. The wind outside picked up. I could hear the windows rattling as sand pounded against them. But before I could take a breath, the phone started ringing again.

My patience was wearing thin, so I disconnected the phone from the console. I didn't want this guy on air if he called again. I knew I was supposed to answer every call, but from then on, I told myself I'd screen them before going live. Sorry about that, folks. Some interesting characters out there, huh? How about some stuff from the good old days? I said, no matter how weird things got, I still needed to do my job.

I queued up a bunch of different songs, anything for some peace, and the whole time, the phone wouldn't stop ringing. Once I made sure the line-up was going to last me a while, I picked up the phone again. What do you want? I asked. The voice that came through wasn't just angry. It was down. right pissed. You listen here, kid, you do not hang up on me. You're here for my entertainment.

You went to a fancy college to be a performing monkey, didn't you? So start dancing. Hearing those words, something inside me snapped. I was angry, but more than that, I was fed up with this guy. I wasn't someone's toy. No one had the right to treat me like. like this. Okay. I don't know who you think you are, dude, but you can't talk to me like that. This is my show, okay? And I'm not here to play games or be pushed around by...

I was cut off by two loud knocks. They were coming from the other side of the booth door. But the station was supposed to be empty. I didn't hear anyone drive up. Then the caller started laughing. You got no choice here, Ben, he said, and then hung up. Another pair of knocks echoed through the booth, louder this time. I slowly put the phone down my mind racing. I looked at my phone, and I realized I had no reception. Just perfect, alone in the middle of nowhere with a psycho.

desperate for some kind of protection. I found a metal baseball bat hiding under the booth. It was dented and covered in grime. But I didn't want to think about why that was. Two knocks sounded again. This time, they came from high up the door. It sounded like it was coming from the ceiling. I stood up from the booth, and I gripped the baseball bat with both hands.

Whoever the hell was on the other side, I was ready for it. I yank the door open, ready to strike. But there was nothing. Just the empty, silent station. The music from the radio booth drifted out to fill the empty space. I still had 20 minutes worth of songs left before I'd hit dead air. So I decided to use the time to investigate. The bat felt heavy, but really,

reassuring in my hand as I checked each room. The office was empty. Papers littered the desk, and the ancient coffee machine sat silently in the corner. Nothing out of place. My next stop was the bathroom. The door creaked as I pushed it open. But again, I didn't find anyone there. Just a dingy toilet and a sink.

I could barely fit in there myself. I was about to shut the door when I saw something flash from the toilet. There was something sitting on top of the tank. I moved closer, wondering what it was. And you are not going to believe this, but in the dim light, I saw a small pile of human fingers. A silver ring glinted from one of them. Then I heard someone laugh.

I spun around, bat raised. There was no one else in the bathroom, but I saw something on the wall, a pair of peep holes, and behind them were two bloodshot eyes staring at me. The caller's voice echoed in the bathroom, bouncing off the tiles. Nice, isn't it?

I panicked. I bolted back to the DJ booth, and I locked the door behind me. I sat at my desk and checked my phone again. Still no signal. But I did see that it was five minutes to midnight. I remember the rule about playing a specific song at this time, so I found one labeled Midnight Record without thinking.

I queued it up and hit play. The song that came through the speakers was different, to say the least, a combination of drums and a high-pitched noise that sounded like a drill. It was so loud it hurt. I tried to cover my ears, but it barely muffled anything. In the background, I heard screaming. And then the knocking started again. Two loud bangs on the window.

I turned and expected to see a person, but no. It was a goat, staring at man. A big black and white one. One of its horns was missing. Behind the goat, I could see the wind had picked up. Desert sand swirled around outside in a storm. Over the speakers, the midnight track kept playing. My head started hurting from all that noise.

The goat bleated. And somehow, I heard it through the glass and over the music. It bleated again, and then I swear it smiled at me. It showed teeth that looked too big and too human. Its lips stretched wide in a way I didn't know was possible. And then the goat stood up. It raised one of its front legs, and at the end of its leg was a human fist. its dark fur ended just below the palm, nails broken and filthy.

It knocked twice before pressing its hand against the glass, leaving bloody prints. It smiled at me again before raising its other foreleg. This one ended in a hand too, and it was holding something. It took me a second to realize that. it was holding a bloody human pelvis. Knock knock. It banged the pelvis against the glass twice. Over the speakers,

I could hear the midnight record winding down, so I grabbed the mic, and I tried to keep my voice steady. If anyone's listening, I need help. This is Ben. My name is Ben from Radio Harmony. I'm in the middle of the California Desert, and there's...

There's someone or something outside the station. Please send help, I said into the mic. I looked out the window again, and I expected to see that messed up goat staring back at me. But it was gone, as if it had never been there. Instead, all I saw was sand. The wind had kicked up a massive sandstorm. and made it impossible to see anything through the glass.

Then the phone rang. It echoed out over the speakers, and it cut through the silence of the station. I glanced at the phone. I know I disconnected it from the speakers earlier. The free cord was lying right there in front of me, but it still rang. I hesitated, and the call went through without me even touching it. The caller's voice boomed through the speakers.

Don't forget the rules, Ben, he said, as if we were just chatting about the weather. What do you want from me? I shot back. Entertainment. Play by my rules, and you may last longer than the others, he said before hanging up. I needed to do something. The sandstorm was still raging outside. I can leave. Plus, I didn't want to know what that goat thing would do to me if I stepped outside. After queuing up enough songs to cover me for the next 30 minutes,

I decided to take a closer look around the station. First stop was the office again. Dust covered everything. It was like no one had done any cleaning in decades. I started going through the paper. Scattered across the desk. Even those looked old. Some of them were yellow around the edges, and fell apart when I touched them.

Eventually, I found a record of past DJs who'd worked at the station. A long list of names with dates next to each one. The list went all the way back to the 70s. But what really caught my eye was how no one lasted very long. The longest anyone ever stayed was five months. The most recent one ended his term the same day I called about the job. I dug deeper into the filing cabinet. I uncovered more about radio harmonies past.

Inside a folder were some old photos of the station. One of them stood out to me. It showed a group of people in front of the towering radio antipses. antenna. They were dressed in white, flowy outfits that screamed hippies to me. The women had flowers in their hair. In their hands, they held up a banner that read, Children of Harmony. In the same folder were the old programming schedules. To my surprise, they were filled with religious content. It looked like Radio Harmony used to be an evangelical station. There were sermon schedules and worship hours.

There were even specific times dedicated to prayer. But what really caught my attention was this one programming block. They named it The Great Calling, and it ran exactly during my shift from 9 p.m. to 6 a.m. Soon I found more photos. Most of them look normal. Stuff like the tower being built. Two of the hippies in the DJ booth, that sort of thing. And then I saw one that was a group of people dancing in a wide circle. The desert around them was a blur of sand. They were out in the middle of a sandstorm. They didn't seem to notice the storm at all. It was like they were in a trance. The next photo was of two men with their backs to the camera feeding goats. One of the goats had a horn missing. Then there was a photo of two women. They were sitting high up on the metal beams of the radio tower.

The desert spread out far below them. They were both smiling. One of them looked like they were about to laugh, but their hands were tied to the bars. with white ribbons and flowers. What the hell were they trying to do? What was this station really for? But I couldn't stay long and find out more.

I knew my track list was about to run out. So I went back to the booth. Through the window, the sandstorm was raging like nothing I'd ever seen. The wind blew hard enough that it shook the walls of the station. sand blasted against the glass. With not much else to do, I queued up more music. The last thing I needed was dead air, especially now. But just as the next song started, I heard it.

Two distinct knocks on the station door. And then came a voice from outside. Hello there, heard your messages over the radio, you all right? The voice said. It sounded friendly. Relief washed over me at the sound of another person. Yes, yes, I'm here. You don't know how glad I am you've come.

Everything. It's been crazy. I called back, moving closer to the door. But then the voice changed. You know, I don't know why you'd want to leave, son. The children of harmony, they're good. Good people. Foolish, but nice. All they wanted was to communicate with what's out there. He knocked twice on the door again. That's when I remembered. There was a rule about not opening the door for anyone who knocked twice, and the voice was the caller.

You want to know, huh? The voice started. The children of harmony, they put up that tower to talk to God. But instead, they got me, and now I'm trapped here in this station with nothing to do. He knocked on the door again, two at a time. There's a whole lot of bones buried out in the desert, Ben. Pretty soon, I'm going to have. at yours, he said. He started banging harder at the door, but still in that repeating one-two pattern.

In the background, I could hear the sound of goats. In a panic, I grabbed the mic. I needed to call out for help. But the voice outside just laughed. It's no use, you idiot. The radio tower has been busted for ages. You've been off air this whole time. I have collected a lot of DJs over the years, and now I want another.

I looked out the window and saw those goats. There were more of them now, all smiling at May. They crowded around each other, their bloody hands pressed against the glass, like hungry children looking into a candy store. One of them brought up a half-eaten foot and started chewing on it. Inside, the pop music blaring from the speakers cranked up louder on its own. It was so loud I could feel the beats sounding in my chest. And the whole time, the caller kept banging on the door.

I could hear the wood splintering now. and I knew it wouldn't last much longer. Come on, Ben, time to meet the kids. The caller said through the storm. The loud music, the banging, the goats, I couldn't think. I started flipping switches and disconnecting cables. Anything to make the music stop.

But it didn't do anything. Pop ballots blared from the speakers. I reached for the main plug, and electricity went up my arm. The goats laughed as I crumpled to the floor. God, even their laughter sounded human. A whole crowd of them cackling as the wind howled. As I fell, I knocked over a stack of papers. Under them were some old vinyl records.

I sat up, and I saw that they were gospel music. Wait a minute. I looked around and I saw an old record player sitting in a corner. It was worth a shot. I put one of the records on. The needle dropped and powerful organ music filled the station. I felt the bass vibrate in my chest. It was beautiful.

Then the lyrics kicked in. A low, soulful verse about protection and deliverance. from evil. The knocking stopped. The loud pop music cut off. I looked out the window, and I saw that the human goat things had disappeared. It was just me and the gospel music.

It continued to play, filling up the empty station. Even the sandstorm looked like it was easing up. I sat back in my chair, and I let out a long sigh of relief. I let the record play. As it was winding down, I heard the wind pick up again, and I quickly switched to another record.

The desert calmed back down as soon as the first worship song started. For the rest of the night, the phone stayed silent. No more calls, no more banging. There were no more goats either, thank God, just peace.

Eventually, I could see the sun start to rise. I looked at my watch. Nearly 6 a.m. Almost the end of my shift. And that was when I remembered the last rule. Play the goodbye song.

I started cleaning up, reconnecting wires, and turning the laptop on again. I found the track named the Goodbye Song, and I queued it up to play right at 6 a.m. The track was odd. It was just static, with a voice repeating, come out, over and over again. As soon as I finished, I walked right out the door. The desert was calm, and the morning sky was clear.

And that was when I found a white envelope lying on the ground. my name was scrawled on the front in the same handwriting as whoever wrote those rules I picked it up and was surprised at the weight of it inside I found a huge stack of bills it was more money than I'd ever held in my life enough to last me rent for months along with the cash

was a note signed by the caller. All it said was this was fun. See you tomorrow.