Lighthouse Horror Podcast - I work at a SKINWALKER MOTEL. I have stories to tell | Scary Stories

Episode Date: May 15, 2024

Can you survive this job? Story from Blair Daniels Make sure to check out more of their work at u/BlairDaniels  Cover Art from Ben Gregory                  Original Post: I hear a train whistle at 2:14 AM every night : r/nosleep  Original YouTube link: I work at a SKINWALKER MOTEL. I have stories to tell          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!

If you're ever driving down Route 106 in Michigan and you see a sign for the Greenbrier Motel, you better just keep on driving because there is something terribly wrong here. And the last thing I would want is for more people to die. I started working at the Greenbrier Motel a week ago. It wasn't a dream job by my standards, you know, night shift at the front desk, checking people in and out doing some inventory in the back. I'd like the peace and quiet though. As a little rundown motel on an isolated highway, it gave me a lot of time to read and play

computer games on the clock. It also helped that the owner, Frank, didn't seem to care I was a high school dropout with a rap sheet, but on the very first day, I felt that something was terribly off. For one, there was a smell. When the wind shifted, the entire parking lot smelled like rotting meat. I ran to close the windows, but even then I could still smell it. It seeped in through the HVAC system. The motel is surrounded by deep woods, so I figured maybe we were near the killgrounds of some

animal, or maybe it was just the endless roadkill of deer and possums on the highway. Either way, it was unsettling, and definitely not enjoyable. The other thing that struck me as odd were the guest-restered. rooms. Some of them didn't have windows, and it seemed like that was intentional. I could see the lines and the paint, the seams outlining where windows had once been. When I asked Frank, he told me that some of the guests asked for windowless rooms, that they were in high demand. He didn't elaborate, and honestly, I was a little scared to press him on it. Things went from strange to downright creepy, however, as soon as Frank left.

As I got set up at my desk, a woman walked into the room. She was in her 40s, maybe, with black hair and very pale skin. As soon as she stepped inside, she locked the door behind her. Frank left, right? She asked me. Yeah, I replied. Uh, who are you? She introduced herself as Matilda.

She'd been working here for a decade, cleaning the motel rooms after the guest checked out. After a few minutes of small talk, she suddenly came up to the counter and lowered her voice. I want to make sure you're safe around here, she said, glancing back towards the door nervously. So I need you to listen to me, okay? Um, okay. Whatever you do, don't ask questions. Just check people in, check them out, and mind your own business. And then you'll be fine.

My stomach did a little flip. Okay, so what was that kind of motel? A legal business of multiple kinds, probably. All being conducted under our leaky roof. What if the police come? I asked. Am I going to be arrested, too? She gave me a blank stare.

The police? Well, yeah, I mean, say they find evidence of, you know, illegal activity in one of the rooms. Will that get me in trouble? You know, I already have shoplifting on my record and I can't. She shook her head. Don't worry about the police. Just don't ask questions. And don't make eye contact.

And don't look at their face. for too long. I swallowed. They don't want witnesses. They don't want me to be able to pick them out through a lineup. Okay, I won't ask questions, and I won't look at them for too long. I got it.

She smiled at that. You have nothing to worry about. As it turned out, though, I did. That night, I checked in three people. And they were almost like caricatures, a big, strong guy in sunglasses that looked like he'd stepped right out of the godfather. A woman dressed to the nines, wearing more makeup than a clown, a skinny guy in a hoodie that smelled like something chemical and strange.

But I listened to Matilda. I didn't ask questions. I didn't even ask the questions I should have been asking, like when the hoodie guy gave me an ID that was clearly fake. Don't ask questions and you'll be fine, I thought. I kept repeating that to myself again and again. And I kept my eyes glued to the computer screen, never even glancing up at them. When it hit midnight, I assumed the rest of the night would be smooth sailing.

On this lonely stretch of highway, it was unlikely anyone else would check in. I pulled up Minesweeper. Yeah, I know. and I played some music on my phone. My peace and quiet, however, was interrupted by the door swinging open. At 2 a.m., I glanced up to see the guy in sunglasses, the guy who looked like he'd stepped out of the godfather. Ah, damn, I knew I should have locked the door.

I swallowed, and I kept my eyes glued to the computer screen as he approached. Can I help you? I asked, watching him in my peripheral vision. Yeah, you have any razors for purchase? I froze. Razors? At 2 a.m. I instantly got a mental image of him slashing someone up in his room,

blood all over the sheets soaking into the carpet. Uh, no, we don't have any razors, I said. keeping my eyes on the computer screen. Can you just check in the back, please? He asked. I swallowed. I really, really didn't want to go check. I mean, as soon as I turned around, he could do anything.

Pull out a gun, tackle me, force me into a chokehold, and keep me as a hostage, I don't know. But refusing him was just as bad, if not worse. It might make him mad, really mad. I sat there, staring at Mind Sweeper on the screen, weighing my options, paying close attention to him out of the corner of my eye. And that's when I saw it. There was something off about this guy. His sunglasses looked like they were slightly too low on his face, like the eyes they

were covering weren't in quite the right place. Not only that, but I couldn't see his eyebrows above the frames or the contours of his brow ridge. Everything about the glasses was perfectly flat and smooth. It was like he had no eye sockets at all. Can you just check in the back, please? He asked again. Yeah, yeah, sure, I replied. I sprung out of the seat and ducked into the back storage area.

I quickly glanced over my shoulder to make sure he wasn't following me. He wasn't. I had half of mind to just stay there, hiding out in the back storage room, until I heard his voice calling out to me again. Did you find him? Thankfully, I did find a few packaged razors next to some other toiletries we kept. I grabbed them and handed them. him over. I kept my eyes trained on the floor the whole time.

Thank you, he said, sounding pleased. And that was it? He just turned around and left. As soon as the door shut, I ran over and locked it. I closed the blinds and sat back down at the front desk. My heart was hammering in my chest. All I could picture was the strange shape of his face, And as I sat there, I realized something. All three guests that I checked in since the start of my shift, the Godfather guy, the makeup woman, the hoodie guy. They all had something covering their face or head. I mean, I wasn't exaggerating about the woman having enough makeup for a clown.

She was wearing foundation so thick that it cracked around the corners of her eyes and lips, and she wore false eyelashes, so long. You know, they almost looked like spider legs. And hoodie guy had kept his hood pulled so tightly over his head that I couldn't see his ears and hair. It was like they all had something to hide. Morning couldn't come soon enough.

As soon as the day shift workers arrived, I got the hell out of there. I floored it back to my house and I slept for a long, long time. I had nightmares all night about. faceless people and spidery eyelashes. And then it was time to go back to the motel for night too. Thankfully, it was a quieter night. Although the vacancy sign glowed brightly in the darkness, no one checked in during my shift. They must have all come earlier during the day. So I locked the door, sat down with a cup of coffee, and I enjoyed some reading in the quiet. Unfortunately, The quiet didn't last long.

Around midnight, I heard a loud slam from outside. I threw my book down and ran over to the window. The door to room 16 was wide open. I looked around. Nobody appeared to be outside. The parking lot, the sidewalk, was empty. The room itself was dark. None of the lights were on.

I walked over to the computer and looked up the room. To my surprise, no one had booked it for tonight. Should I go out and close the door, I thought? I hesitated. It was late. There was no one around except for the occasional passing car. If someone had broken into that room and then attacked me, there would be no one to hear me scream.

So I kept the door locked tight and I opened up the security camera feet instead. As I rewounded, I saw what happened. The door had opened, and then a woman had walked out of it. I couldn't see her face, just her long, dark hair. And then she disappeared into room 22. I checked room 22 on the computer. It was booked to a woman named Cassandra Johnson. I frowned.

Looked like Cassandra might be going. into our vacant rooms and possibly stealing stuff. Matilda must have forgotten to lock up the room after she cleaned it. I sighed, open the door, and began walking towards the open room. You know, I thought about knocking on Rum 22, but then decided against it. Keep your nose out of other people's business, I thought. I just lock up Room 16 and go back to the lobby like a good little employee. I walked towards the open room, but as soon as I got close, I could smell something horrible.

It was like something rotting, decaying. My stomach turned. What did Cassandra do in there? Throw up? Stash all her garbage in there? I reached into the darkness of the room, bracing myself. I flicked on the light. The room looked normal. The bed was made. The carpet was clean, but the smell only got stronger. I pinched my nose as I glanced around, starting to feel nauseous.

And then I saw it. There was something on the carpet, just barely poking out from the other side of the bed. What is that? It was tan and folded over at some. Like a beige sheet or pillowcase had been bunched up on the other side. But all our sheets were white. I stepped into the room, my heart pounding in my chest. Hello? I called out.

Nothing. The smell got even worse as I approached the bed. Nausea washed over me. I forced myself to keep going. myself to keep going, pinching my nose, swallowing down the urge to throw up. I peered over the side of the bed and froze. There was a pile of beige, slightly translucent material folded over itself on the other side, but I instantly recognized certain shapes attached to it, awfully familiar shapes, like five fingers.

It looked like a glove made of skin poking out from under one of the folds. It looked like someone had shed their skin. I stepped back, my legs shaking underneath me. It can't be. I backed away towards the door. My throat was dry. Because it didn't make sense. It didn't even make sense for it to be a murder.

There wasn't any blood done it. It hadn't been cut off someone. It was like a snake skin, clean and perfect, holding the shape of its wearer like a ghost. I ran out of the room and I saw walking toward me down the sidewalk, the woman from room 22. Strans of her dark, straight hair hung over her face. But I could tell through her hair that there was something wrong with her face. Her eyes and her lips, they were in slightly wrong positions. She walked toward me. Fast. Her shoes clicked on the pavement. I didn't want to find out what she'd do if she caught me, and I whipped around and I ran as fast as I could. I could hear her running behind me.

She was running much faster than what I thought, possible for heels. But I forced myself to go faster, and then I was inside the lobby. I clicked the lock shut and I collapsed in the back room where she couldn't see me. And that was when the whistling started. Just outside the door, I could hear her. Whistling. The source of the sound shifted as she circled the lobby area, looking for a way in.

I heard it at the door, then at the back, then through the side windows, then back at the front door. This went on for an hour. Finally, the whistling faded. But I didn't move. I stayed there. I huddled in the back storage room until dawn broke. As soon as the day shift arrived, I booked it out of there as fast as I could. I wanted to quit. With everything the way it is, I wanted to just walk away. But I needed the money.

I already knew how hard it was, you know, finding a job with a rap sheet. It was either go back to this job, no matter how scary it was, or face eviction. So I went back. When I got on shift, though, I pulled Matilda aside and I told her what I'd seen. I asked her again and again, and if my life was in danger. Asked her what the hell was going on here. If other people were in danger, too. I promise you, as long as you mind your own business, you'll be safe. So that's what I did.

I kept my head down. And for the next few days, nothing really happened. Sure, there's a few people who checked in that were wearing hats or sunglasses or extra makeup. But I just tried to avoid eye contact with him, tried to keep my head down and my nose out of other people's business. But then came that one night in November. It was raining then, I remember. The rain came down in sheets. And every so often, I heard thunder shake the windows.

I wasn't expecting anyone to come in that night. I didn't see that many cars driving by on the highway. The rain seemed to keep everybody in. But then I heard a knock, and when I looked up, I saw a man staring in the window. A chill ran down my spine. He was wearing a hoodie that kept his face mostly in shadow, and he was aggressively banging on the window. It was like he was in a hurry.

I grabbed the mace I kept down to the counter, and I slipped it into my pocket. And then I approached the window. Do you have any vacancies? He asked in a low voice. I could barely hear him over the pounding rain. The vacancy sign glowed brightly behind him. There's no way he could have missed it. Yeah, yeah, come on in, I said.

I unlocked the door with one hand, and I gripped the mace in my pocket with the other. He stepped inside. Rain dripped off his jacket and onto the floor. I barely glanced at him. I just turned around and walked back around the counter. And then I sat down on the computer, keeping my eyes fixed on the screen, in my peripheral vision. I could see him. He was leaning over the counter. His face, it was only about a foot or two from mine, so close that I was. I could smell the stale mothball odor coming off his clothes. So close, I could hear drops of water plopping onto the counter from his sleeve.

Can you, can you go faster? he asked. His voice raspy in his throat. Sorry, sir, I'm going as fast as I can. I replied. My heart's starting to pound. It's an old computer. My fingers slipped on the mouse as I rushed to click the buttons. He growled, leaning even closer to me. I wanted to look at him. My eyes, I don't know, they were itching to glance up at the man that was six inches from my face. But I forced myself to stare at the screen.

Whatever the hell was going on here, I was not going to be a witness. I was not going to look up and find myself face to face with a gun. Um, your name? I asked. As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I froze. I needed a name to book the room. That's all. But maybe he wouldn't see it that way. Maybe, I don't know, maybe I wasn't supposed to ask for names. Maybe that was part of Frank's understanding with certain guests.

Thankfully, nothing happened. After a second of hesitation, he replied, Daniel Jones. The name struck me as fake. Common first name. Common last name, but who even cared at this point? I typed his name into the system and completed the booking process. He paid for the room in cash, which was another thing that made me uneasy.

But I tried not to think about it. I turned my back, and I took a key off the hook. Room seven, I sat, handing it to him. He thanked me, and then waited by the door. I waited for a minute. Then two. But he didn't leave. Do you need something?

I asked. Careful not to make eye contact. Can you escort me to my room? Huh, hell no, I thought, there's no way I could go out there in the middle of the night with this creepy guy that was like a death sentence. I glanced out the window and spotted his car, a beat-up sedan in one of the nearby parking spaces. The murder scenario played right out in my head. Shove me into the hotel room. kill me, stick my body in the trunk and then throw it in the middle of the woods.

Or maybe worse. Maybe my skin would end up crumpled on the floor of one of the rooms. Maybe he'd take my form or turn me into something that sheds its skin like a snake that has eyes too low on its face or no eye sockets at all. And the longer I looked at him in the corner of my eye, the more I noticed things about him. There were smears of dirt on his sleeves and on the hem of his pants. Like he's been digging a grave, the voice in my head added. His face, half hidden in shadow, was sunken in gaunt.

His jaw was covered in gray stubble. His teeth, they were a horrible shade of grayish yellow. Can't you just go yourself? I have something I need to do here. You know, my boss is going to get real pissed if... Can take two minutes to walk me to my room, damn it! I sat there and stunned silence. He was very mad.

He sounded furious. Okay, I said finally. My fingers curled around the mace in my pocket, and then I joined him at the door. I'll walk you to your room, I said. He didn't thank me. He just grabbed the door and swung it open. It nearly hit me in the face. I stepped out into the pouring rain with him.

The parking lot was like a lake, and our feet sloshed loudly through the wall. water. The cold waters seeped through my sneakers, and I shivered. I followed the man to his car, staying a good 15 feet away. He popped the trunk, and I held my breath, but thankfully, there was only a duffel bag inside. He put it on his shoulder, and started for room seven. I followed him at a distance, staying several feet away, watching him fidget with the key. You got you got a lot of other people staying here right now? He asked. As he slid the key in the lock.

Some. I replied. Not great weather for it, he said. Not really. I replied. The storm's supposed to clear tomorrow. It'll be good weather then. He said. Wow, this is taking a while, I thought to myself. And that's when I looked down at his hands, and I noticed that he wasn't really trying to get into the room. He was just inserting the key, pausing, and then pulling it out, over and over again.

He was stalling. He was keeping me here on. purpose. I looked up from his hands, just in time to see him staring at me. His blue eyes were intense, studying me. I wanted to run away. Every inch of me was screaming to get out of air, but the guy had like seven inches on me, and he was really thin. Probably catch me in like two seconds. I was never much of a runner. I slipped my hand in my pocket, curling my fingers around the mace. Do you need help getting into your room? I asked. He shook his head.

I'm going to go back to the front desk, I said, taking a step back. As soon as I said that, he froze. His eyes widened as he stared at me. Slowly, he shook his head. He shook his head. He shook his head. His lips stretching into a grimace that showed his yellow teeth. Don't go, he growled. His voice barely audible above the rain. Stay exactly where you are. I leapt into action. I whipped the mace out of my pocket and I held it in front of me, pointing it right at him.

I don't get any closer, man. My finger hovered over the trigger. And then I heard it. Whistling. Someone was whistling behind me in the rain. The song cut through the raindrops like a knife. It was the same eerie tune that woman had whistled a few days ago. I'm sorry, the man said quietly.

His blue eyes locked on mine, but I needed bait. I stared at him. My brain couldn't even process what he was saying. Bate? I took a stumbling step back. The whistling grew louder. I whipped around and through the rain, I could see someone walking through the parking lot, barely lit by the flickering street lamp.

The mace fell from my hands. and then I turned and ran as fast as I could towards the lobby. The whistling stopped, and then I could hear loud, splashing footsteps, growing louder with every second behind me. I swung the door open, slammed it shut, and I locked it. I pulled the blinds down over the window, panting. I opened them with my fingers, and I peered out into the night. There was a woman standing in the parking lot, the same woman I had seen a week ago.

Her hair and clothes were drenched with rain, but she was smiling, this big, crooked grin that sent chills down my spine. And her eyes were strange, wide and wild, incredibly light blue, in the darkness, It almost looked like she didn't have irises at all, just two pinholes for pupils, staring right at my door. She took a step forward. I ran over to my desk, grabbed my cell phone, and started dialing 911. Come on, come on, operator. I'm at Greenbrier Motel and there's this guy and this weird woman.

I was cut off by a loud thump nearby. I ran to the window and looked out. The man who'd booked room seven was running towards the woman. He was holding something up in the air, a short dagger shining silver in the rain. He's attacking her, I said into the phone. The woman's face changed, her features twisted, her grin crept up to her eyes. Her arms cracked and stretched. She blinked, and her eyes turned pure white.

Her body twisted unnaturally at the waist so that she was facing the man. With fast jolted movements, she leapt at him, and within seconds he was dead. She stood on all fours above him, her knees bent the wrong way. Her fingers far too long, with another horrible, crackling sound. Her neck stretched down two feet long, twisting like a snake. And then she looked at me. I leapt away from the window. I opened my mouth, tried to speak, but I couldn't.

And by the time I made it back over to the window, the woman was standing right there, looking down at her kill. She looked normal now, and then she stepped over his body and walked towards the rooms. To my horror, she pulled out a key and opened room 22, and then she disappeared inside.

The police arrived a few minutes later. I begged them, to check room 22 that something horrible was inside. But then they knocked on the door, and a completely normal-looking woman opened it. I watched from the lobby. I couldn't hear that much of their conversation over the pouring rain. But they weren't arresting her. How weren't they arresting her? They just seemed to be having a friendly chat asking her what she'd seen. And then they thanked her and came back to me. Hey there.

So, yeah, we're a need to see the security tapes from tonight, please. The officer said. But when I showed them the tapes, they got quiet. One of the officers made a call to someone saying something about an infestation. The other two officers ushered me out into the lobby. their face is serious. They told me not to leave as they talked amongst themselves

in hushed voices in the corner of the room. And then they approached me. All right. Well, you didn't see anything tonight. One of the officers said, leaning in close. You, uh, you got that?

But, but what about? Okay, listen to me very carefully. He interrupted. You didn't see anything. Just like you never shoplifted in your life, okay? What? I asked. You understand me?

He asked. The silence stretched out between us. Yeah, I got it, I said. My voice wavering. I, uh, I didn't see. see anything. I left the motel that night and never went back. I planned to never speak of what I saw to keep my mouth shut, just like they told me. But after many sleepless nights, I realized that I need to warn people. I can't have another person dying because of these things, whatever they are.

So, I'm begging you. If you're driving through Michigan and you see that there's a vacancy at the Greenbrier Motel, Keep driving.