Lighthouse Horror Podcast - I Work for The Government's Paranormal Division. This is My STRANGEST Case | Scary Stories

Episode Date: February 4, 2025

Scary Story exclusively written for the channel by The Lighthouse Horror Team Cover Art from Ninerio More of the artist’s works at ninerioarts     Original YouTube link: I Work for The Government's Paranormal Division. This is My STRANGEST Case.         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!

You ever have one of those jobs? You can't really explain to anyone? That's me. I'm the guy the government sends when things get weird. Officially, I work for some vague department with a forgettable acronym. Unofficially, I'm the dude who gets called when the paranormal shoves its way into our world. Ghost, cryptids, cursed objects. If it goes bump in the night, I'm probably the poor guy investigating it. Pays decent? The hours suck. And the benefits? Well, let's just say dental doesn't cover ghost bites. So there I was, sitting in my tiny office at 10.32 p.m. on a Friday, eating a stale donut and scrolling

through memes when my phone buzzed. Not my normal phone, mind you. My work phone. Black, unmarked, and annoyingly loud. That buzz means only one thing. It's time. time to get up and deal with something I am absolutely not prepared for. I let it buzz a couple more times, just out of spite, before I picked it up. Yeah. Agent Miller, said a voice on the other end. Didn't recognize it, but that's normal. Half the people I deal with probably don't exist on paper.

We've got a situation. Small town, middle of nowhere, you'll get the coordinates. A. Two hours. Briefings in the file. Good luck. The line went dead. I sighed, tossed the donut in the trash, and grabbed my go-bag. You learn pretty quickly in this line of work to always have one ready. Flashlight, EMF reader, flask of whiskey, and a couple of charms from this old guy I met in Louisiana, who swore they'd keep me safe. Spoiler. They don't. By the time I hit the road, the file had already downloaded to my phone. I opened it up at a red light and skimmed. Case was simple enough, at least on paper. A farmer in some backwoods town had called the local authorities, claiming his barn, was haunted. Cows wouldn't go near it, strange noises at night, you know, yada, yada.

Local cops took a look, saw some weird stuff and kicked it up the chain, and now lucky me, it was my problem. The drive was long, dark, and boring. Just me, the hum of the engine, and the occasional static on the radio that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It was almost midnight when I pulled up to the farm. The place looked like something out of a horror movie,

peeling paint, overgrown grass, a single porch light flickering like it was about to give up on life. The farmer, a wiry old guy named Joe, was waiting for me on the porch, clutching a shotgun like it was a security blanket. You've a guy they sent, he asked, squinting at me like I was some sort of alien. Yes, I am, I said, flashing my badge. Agent Miller, let's get this over with. Joe didn't look convinced, but he waved me inside anyway. The house smelled like coffee and stress as he poured me a cup. I couldn't help but notice his hands were shaking.

So what exactly am I dealing with here? I asked, trying to sound casual. Joe glanced out the window, toward the barn in the distance. Well, I don't know. But whatever it is, it ain't natural. I gave Joe a look. Now, normally when people say it ain't natural, means something like a weird stain on the carpet, or a cat that won't leave the kitchen. But this guy seemed serious. So I followed his gaze towards the barn. Now the barn itself looked like it'd been through a few decades worth of

bad weather. You'd expect something like this in a ghost town, not a place where people actually lived. Joe was still holding the coffee mug in a death grip. His knuckles white. You think I'm crazy, don't you? I shrugged. My job's to figure out what's going on. And if it's a problem, I make it go away. That's it.

He nodded slowly, almost like he was trying to convince himself of something. Well, if you're going to look around, just be careful in there. I grabbed my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and stepped onto the porch, not bothering with any more small talk. It was already late, and I knew I had a long night ahead of me. I didn't have the luxury of being polite. Now the barn was a good fifty feet from the house, and as I walked toward it, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Yeah, I know it's a barn, and it's supposed to be creepy, but there was a definite sense of something. I pushed open the barn door slowly, and immediately I could tell something was wrong.

The space was dim, lit only by the faint glow from outside. The usual smell of hay and animals wasn't there, though. Instead, there was an odd scent in the air. I took a step further in, eyes scanning for anything unusual. The barn was packed with old tools, piles of hay. and some farm equipment left in various states of disrepair. First, everything seemed normal. Until I looked up,

hanging upside down from one of the rafters was something I couldn't believe I was seeing. A bat, but not just any bat. This thing was huge. I'm talking big enough to give a grizzly bear a hard time. Its wings stretched out like some kind of grotesque leathery tarp. Its fur was patchy, like it'd been through some kind of hell. And its face wasn't even close to the bat you'd see at a zoo.

I froze for a second, just staring. It was like it was waiting for me to move, to do something. And then I snapped out of it. My training kicked in. I grabbed my EMF reader and held it up, trying to get a reading. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not a blip, not a spike in energy, nothing.

It was like this thing wasn't even from this world. I stepped back slowly, trying to make my way out of the barn without disturbing it. But I could feel its eyes boring into me, tracking every step I took. Just as I turned ahead for the door, I heard it. The faintest thud, like something heavy landing behind me. I didn't even have time to turn around before I felt the pressure of its wings. The thing shot past me, with a speed that was unnatural. I whipped around, just in time to see it swooped down toward the ground, landing with a soft thud.

Its eyes locked onto mine again, and for a second, it looked intelligent, like it knew exactly who I was, why I was there, and it was not afraid. I had a split second to make a decision. Do I stay and fight whatever this thing was, or do I get the hell out of here? I chose the second option. I bolted for the door, slammed it shut behind me, and ran back to the house without looking back. My heart was pounding. In my hands, I will admit, were a little shaky. Joe was standing inside, looking at me like I had two heads. You saw it, didn't you? Yeah, yeah, I saw it. Pretty sure it saw me too. Joe didn't say anything for a second. Just gave me a look that told me he knew exactly what I was talking about. It's been there for a while. He started.

Old folklore around here says if you see it, you don't survive the year. But I figured it was just, well, you know, folklore. I stared at him, feeling the weight of his words sinking in. You didn't think to tell me there was a giant vampire bat? Joe looked down at his feet, then back up at me. Well, to be honest, I wasn't. I wasn't sure you'd believe me. All right.

I'll put it in the report. But, you know, you might want to get out of here. This thing's not exactly the leave you alone type, I replied. Joe didn't say a word, just nodded, and walked off into the house, leaving me alone with the quiet hum of the night. The barn door creaked slowly behind me, and I couldn't shake the feeling that that thing was still watching. I stood there for a few moments, staring back at the barn. Normally I'd go back inside, pull up my equipment, and start working, trying to piece together what was going on. But this time something felt different. It wasn't just the bat. It was the way it looked at me, like it knew

exactly what I was doing here, and it was waiting for me to make a mistake. I wrapped my face, trying to shake the feeling off. My mind was racing. There had to be something to explain this. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized, there might not be a logical explanation. Giant bats didn't exist as far as I knew. But there it was right in front of me. I turned back to the house, pushing the door open slowly.

Joe was still inside, pacing around like he was waiting for me to say something. What now? he asked. I wiped my hands on my jeans. Well, we're not dealing with a normal animal here, Joe. This thing, I don't even really know what it is yet. But it's not something you just trap. Joe looked like he was about to argue, but he just nodded. Well, what should I do?

Stay here. Don't come out until I say so and keep your shotgun handy, I said. He opened his mouth probably to protest, but then closed it again, and without another word, disappeared into another room. I stepped back outside, trying to think. I had a bad feeling about this. I pulled out my phone again, checking the coordinates from the case file, just to make sure I hadn't missed something obvious. The nearest town was still an hour away, and there was no sign of any similar reports in the area. That didn't surprise me. When things like this happen, they're usually swept under the rug or ignored altogether.

Local authorities probably dismissed the haunting as a prank or some weird behavior from a local animal. But that thing in the barn was not normal. I grabbed my flashlight and headed back out, this time determined to get a closer look. If this thing was going to be a problem, I needed to figure out what I was dealing with. and fast. I stepped inside the barn cautiously, my flashlight casting long beams of light across the hay and abandoned farm tools.

The bat was still hanging there, just like before, only now it was staring at me even more intently, as if it was sizing me up. And that was the most unsettling part of it. It wasn't scared. I pulled out my EMF reader again, but this time I wasn't expecting much. I'd already tried it out and there'd been no response. But something told me I needed more than just tech to deal with this thing.

I started walking around the barn, scanning the walls, the floor, looking for anything that could give me a clue about what this thing was. There were old weathered symbols scratched into the wood in places I hadn't known. noticed before. Lines carved into the beams like someone had been marking something out. They didn't look like any symbols I recognized. No occult symbols or rituals, just a strange pattern of marks that made no sense. I knelt down to get a closer look, brushing dust off the edges. As my fingers traced over the scratches, I felt something cold passed through me. I pulled out my phone again and snapped a few pictures of the markings as I was about to stand up. I heard the faintest

rustling sound. Before I could even turn around, the bat's wings beat, and the thing dropped from the rafters, its massive form almost blurring in the air as it moved. I barely had time to react. It landed on the ground with a heavy thud, its wings snapping open wide. It was at least six feet long, and I wasn't sure if it was trying to intimidate me, or if it was just showing off. Either way, it was working. I took a step back, holding my flashlight in front of me, like I could do anything to stop this thing. The bat's eyes glinted in the low light, and I realized too late that I'd backed myself into a corner.

There was nowhere to run. It let out a screech, and then lunged at me. It's fangs glistening. I barely managed to dive out of the way. The barn door was too far, and the bat was already charging at me again. I grabbed my go-bag off the ground, and I pulled out the silver knife I kept in the pack. I wasn't sure why I had it, but I learned a long time ago that you never went into a situation like this without something sharp. If nothing else, made me feel like I had a fighting chance.

The bat came at me once more, its massive wings, creating a gust of air that nearly knocked me off my feet. I swung the knife at it, aiming for its head, but it was faster than it looked. Its claws scraped against my arm as it passed by, and I winced. But I didn't stop. I kept moving, backing up toward the barn door, trying to find any weakness. I swung the knife again, but the bat was too fast. The thing was relentless. Its wing snapping the air, sending gusts that made it hard to breathe.

I needed to think fast. This wasn't just an animal. There was something more dangerous. And I knew if I didn't do something soon, I'd be dead in this barn. But there was a glimmer of clarity in the chaos, a realization that had me looking around frantically. The barn wasn't just a barn. As the bat lunged for me again, I caught a glimpse of something at the far wall,

just below the rafters, something that stood out against the old wood and decaying hay. At first, I thought it was just another set of scratches or random marks, but then my flashlight hit it in just the right angle, and my heart skipped a beat. It was a circle, a ritual circle. It was faint, barely visible in places where the wood had worn away over time. But there was no mistaking it. The circle itself was drawn in a deep, faded red,

and it was covered in strange symbols and ruins I didn't recognize. It was ancient. Old enough that even I could tell, it wasn't some backup pentagram or cheap occult work. It was something far older, something designed to bind. But it was incomplete. I cursed under my breath.

Of course it was. The damn thing was trapped here, or it had been trapped, until someone or something had broken the circle. The bat screeched again, diving at me, and I barely sidestepped in time. It was too fast, too aggressive, but I didn't have time to keep dodging. It was going to catch me, and I needed to finish this fast.

I took a step back, my eyes scanning the broken circle. The part where the circle had been disrupted was obvious. There was a gap, a section where the ritual had been interrupted, leaving the bat free to move. I cursed under my breath again, then reached into my bag, my fingers digging for the salt I always carried. Salt was cheap, easy, and in my line of work essential for dealing with things like this.

I grabbed the bag, ripped it open, and hurriedly poured the salt into the gap in the circle, trying to complete the missing part of the symbol. The bat screeched again, furious, flapping its wings so hard I felt the wind cut against my skin. But I didn't stop. I carefully poured the salt, moving fast but deliberate. I didn't dare look up. I couldn't. I had to finish this.

Once I'd finish the circle, I stood there for a second. The bat was hovering in mid-air, but I could see the agitation in its eyes. It was trying to move, trying to break free. But it couldn't. Not anymore. I closed my eyes and muttered a prayer, more to calm myself than anything, and then I took a deep breath and stepped back, watching as the salt began to shimmer in the dim light, glowing faintly, as the magic of the ritual took hold. The bat let out a low growl, a deep guttural sound that rattled my bones, but it was trapped. The circle was whole again, and whatever force had been holding it back was now active once more.

It screeched one last time, a violent, enraged sound that echoed throughout the barn. And then, with a final thrash of its wings, it dropped to the floor with a thud, unable to move. I stood there, staring at it. My hands were still shaking. The bat was trapped, but I knew better than to assume that this was the end of it. Whatever had broken the circle. whatever had released it in the first place was still out there, and if I didn't get answers soon, there was no telling how far this thing would go. But for now, the immediate danger was gone. I took another step back, keeping my eyes on the bat as it lay still, its wings twitching.

The circle had bounded in plagues, but I wasn't fool enough to think it was over. It was contained for now, but there had to be something more going on. I pulled my phone from my pocket and snapped a picture of the circle, the salt, and the bat. I needed to document everything. There was no way I was going to leave here without some sort of backup. I glanced back toward the house, but I didn't want to risk taking Joe anywhere near this thing. Not yet. He wouldn't understand.

and hell I barely did. I pulled the last of the salt from my bag and tossed it out of the bat's wings just in case a little extra protection couldn't hurt. I glanced at the barn door again. If I was going to get answers, I needed to figure out who would summon this thing, why it was here,

and how it had gotten out of its circle in the first place. This wasn't just some freak accident. This was planned, and I would bet my paycheck, the person who started this mess wasn't finished yet. I spent the rest of the night flipping through every book and journal I could find in Joe's old farmhouse, hoping to track down something. They would explain what the hell was going on with that bat.

I wasn't expecting much, but after what I had seen in the barn, I knew I couldn't just pack up and leave. Joe didn't say much when I came back inside. He just watched me, as I grabbed every... Every book I could find old leather-bound volumes, worn-out paperbacks, even a few dusty encyclopedias. I was hoping for something, anything, that could shed some light on this situation. At first, I thought maybe it was something like a local myth, a story about a creature that had been unleashed by mistake. But as I flipped through page after page of obscure folklore and ancient rituals,

I realized this was no simple ghost story or urban legend. The real answers came from one book tucked away in a corner, hidden under a pile of old newspapers and farm receipts. It looked ancient, like something straight out of a horror movie. A thick, dark green tome, with no title on the spine, Just some kind of faded symbol that gave off a heavy, uncomfortable energy. I opened the book carefully. The pages yellowed with age, crumbling under my fingertips as I flipped through.

My eyes skimmed the text until I found what I was looking for. The ritual circle was what kept it contained. Without it, the bat was free to wreak havoc, to tear through reality itself until a giant rift was fully open. Once that happened, the creature could escape, and who knows what else would follow. But if the ritual was maintained, if the circle was intact, the bat, and everything else that would follow, would stay trapped. And the real kicker, someone had to maintain the circle. Someone had to ensure the ritual was kept fresh and intact every few months, or the bat would break free again.

The ritual was never meant to be a one-time thing. It was a cycle, a constant job and responsibility. I flipped to another page and started reading more. The book detailed the binding rituals, explaining the signs of a broken circle. There were symbols to ruins, just like the ones I'd seen in the barn. They had to be renewed, kept intact, or the creature would escape. There was no mention of who had originally performed the ritual, but it was clear that whoever had done it had passed the responsibility down through the generations.

I looked up from the book, the reality of what I had to do settling over me. I knew who was going to be stuck with this responsibility now. I stood up and walked over to Joe, who'd been sitting quietly in the corner, watching me read. I could tell by the look on his face. He hadn't exactly been relaxed since I'd gotten back. Joe, I said. My voice steady but firm. This is your problem now.

Joe's eyes widened. What? You're the one who's going to have to keep that thing locked up. You're the one who has to check the circle, make sure the ritual stays in place, and refresh it when needed. It's your responsibility now. It was passed down to you when the last person who handed it died or disappeared or whatever happened. You're the guardian now. His face went pale as you tried to make sense of what I was saying.

I don't know anything about this. I don't know how to do it. How could I? I held up the book, showing him the page I'd been reading. This is how. It's all in here. All you have to do is follow the ritual. Every three months, come out here, check the circle, and make sure nothing's broken.

You'll need salt, a lot of it, and a few other ingredients. I can help you with that. But you're the one who has to take care of this. Joe ran a hand through his thinning hair, looking overwhelmed. Look, I didn't sign up for this. I'm just a farmer. I'm not a, well, I'm not a ritual keeper. I can't handle this kind of thing.

I gave him a pointed look. You're the one who called the authorities, Joe. you're the one who made it my problem, and well, now you've got it. This is just the way it works. I could tell he was starting to crack. His eyes darting around like he might run and never come back. What happens if I don't do it? What happens if I don't take care of the circle?

I let the silence stretch for a second before answering. The gravity of the situation weighing on us. The bat breaks free, and then everything else follows. There's a rift. It'll tear open, and whatever's on the other side of it will pour through. There's a reason that thing's been trapped here for so long. If it gets out, it's not just the bat you'll have to worry about. It'll be whatever else is waiting.

Joe looked as though the words were sinking in. His face pale. and his lips trembling. Well, how do I even know if the circle's still intact? How can I be sure? I flipped back to the relevant pages in the book, scanning over the steps and instructions. There's a few things you'll need to check for.

The ruins in the circle should still be legible. They shouldn't have faded or been scratched out. If any part of the circle is broken, you'll need to repair it with salt. Pure salt. And if there's any disturbance in the bat's behavior, you'll know it's time to come back and refresh the circle. I handed him the book. Once every three months. Doesn't sound like a lot, but it's a responsibility you can't ignore. This is just the way it is. And the way it always has been. People around the world are given this responsibility maybe every day. There are rifts everywhere.

Joe's hands shook as he took the book from me. I don't know if I can do this. I placed a hand on his shoulder. You don't have a choice. If you don't, nobody else will. If you have any questions, call me. Our organization allows three calls and three questions, so use them wisely.

Figure out all the little stuff on your own. Those are the rules, I said, handing him my card. He stood there, clutching the book to his chest like it was a lifeline. All right, I'll keep the circle intact. I gave him a final look, making sure he understood. Every three months, Joe. Don't forget. And with that?

I turned to leave. The job was done. The bat contained. And the ritual passed on to Joe.