Lighthouse Horror Podcast - I work in a Prison for MONSTERS. We have STRANGE RULES | Scary Stories

Episode Date: February 12, 2024

There's something inside it.         Story from J Campbell Make sure to check out more of their work at u/Erutious          Original Post: They're all going to laugh at you : r/TalesOfDarkness  Original YouTube link: I work in a Prison for MONSTERS. We have 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 work at a place that doesn't technically exist watching creatures that I hope you have never seen. I've been a Marine since I was 17. I got out of school early. At the time, joining the military seemed better than the orphanages I'd grown up. So I made it through Basic and I spent some time on tours. And then one night, I messed up. Well, not really messed up. I just let some people talk me into some things that I shouldn't have. It all started with the killings in a remote village.

The base had us investigating some murders in the area. It was some real, brutal stuff, and they wanted to make sure it didn't turn the public opinion against the troops stationed nearby. Some of them knew the Marines. They had a reputation. They wondered if maybe it was one of us who was doing it. The village elders were supposedly collecting evidence of their own. needed to catch whoever was doing this before the public consciousness turned against our squad

and it became real bad but the more we looked the less we believed it was even a person doing it the bodies had been chewed up like a dog had been going at them the teeth marks they let us to believe it was a very big dog ramsay jokingly said maybe it was a werewolf but tech said that there weren't no werewolves in this part of the world. Turns out, they were both right. We heard a noise one night while on patrol, and as we pulled the Humvee into an alley, we saw the thing.

It was huge, seven feet tall, with broad shoulders. Its pelt made me think it was a hyena. Ramsey and Clyde were out the door before they could fully get their bearings. It dropped the old lady. it had been mutilating. And it just charged at us. Charged in like a hungry kid

after some chicken McNuggets. Dinner had arrived, and it ate well. It ate shot after shot from our rifles. And as I ducked behind the Humvee and shot into it, its skin seemed to shrug off round after round. Wasn't until I finally got the idea to climb up and use the machine gun

mounted to the Humvee that it finally started feeling it. I saw Tex's arm hanging out of its mouth, and it turned and got down on all fours as it just ran at me, and I kept firing. When its claws slid into my stomach, my finger locked onto the trigger, and it was the worst pain I've ever experienced in my life. The claws had gone through my body armor, like cheesecloth. As I blacked out, I saw it slump on top of the Humvee as a giant pile of blood and fur. I didn't expect to wake up, but it seemed that the military wasn't done with me yet. I opened my eyes to find an older man smoking a cigar two feet in front of my face.

It was hard to tell through the reflective glasses, but he was hard to tell. He looked pissed. You killed my wear, hyena, he said, breathing a cloud of smoke into my face. I coughed trying to respond, but for a few seconds nothing would come. What? I finally asked. You killed my where, hyena. He said, shaking his finger.

shaking his finger. Now, how do you intend to repay me for that? I couldn't figure out an answer, but he hardly needed one. Well, don't worry, son. I'll find a way. He huffed. Now, this was Colonel Bampther, and I would find that the first time we met was one of the more rational times I'd interact with this guy. The military had done a number on May. The weir hyenas claws had shredded my insides, my stomach, my large intestine, my kidneys, and one of my lungs had been damaged.

But that's okay, because the government had given me some experimental replacements. I was only the second or third person to be added to these medical trials. The other two had also worked for Tartarus. Tartarus, as it turned out. was my next assignment. While I was in the hospital, Colonel Bampher, he came to visit me a lot. He told me that after I was healed up and ready for duty, I was his baby. I looked at him oddly, not sure what the hell he was talking about, and that seemed to amuse him.

He tossed a file folder at me. Congratulations, son. You're the latest corpse hired by the seventh branch of the United States military. There are only five branches of the military, sir, I said. And at the time, it was true, at least as far as I knew. Ah, that's what they tell new boots, but most grunts haven't seen a wear hyena and lived to tell about it. Speaking of, son, my menagerie is minus one wear hyena.

to start paying off your debt to Uncle Sam, and more importantly, to me. Soon enough, I was moved somewhere else. I did the last of my recovery in a place that no one has ever heard of. And as soon as I was able, Colonel Banther gave me the grand tour of Tartarus. Now Tartarus, it's a secret compound somewhere in an area hostile to human life. I know that's a little vague, but I've honestly never been outside the facility. It could be at the bottom of the ocean for all I know. Or in a volcano?

Or in the heart of Detroit, I don't know. But wherever it is, no one has ever just wandered in. At least to my knowledge. So it's a big circular facility that houses three full-time staff members and around 110 things, They can't really be described. This is where we put all the things that go bump in the night, Colonel Banther told me as he finished the tour. You'll be keeping the night watch at first.

Prove yourself, and I may let you join the capture team. But for now, just familiarize yourself with the rules. Tartarus it has about 5,000 rules but I've been assured that only certain ones are important on a daily basis like rule 5 don't forget to feed cell 12 before midnight cell 12 holds something that we like to call the snut goblin it's a weird little creature with a perpetually oozing body legend says that it draws Because it's formed from things people wipe under chairs and things, the longer it goes without eating, the smaller it gets.

It eventually gets so small it can escape, and then it can start finding something to eat soon and regain its size. That's why there's a button next to its cell that dumps kibble on it to keep it large and well fed. probably feed this thing close to $200 of dog food a day. So it's usually just a pair of eyes peeking through the slot at the top of the door. That's one of the easier ones to remember, like number 20, which is wearing your earplugs near the siren container.

Some of them, however, they're a little harder to remember. Like number 37. Don't bring anything you find on the housing floor back to the booth with you. Now that one I found out the hard way. I was doing one of my rounds. I was checking the cells when suddenly I found a fork sitting on the wall of Cell 19. Cell 19. It holds our English werewolf, who was sound asleep at the time.

Seeing a random fork outside the canteen. It was weird. So I picked it up and I brought it back. So it couldn't accidentally fall into the wrong hands, you know? I laid it on the console. But as I looked up to watch the cameras, I could swear that it wiggled a little. It would never do it while I was looking right out of it, you know,

but it always seemed to move in my peripheral vision. This went on for about an hour, until I looked down to find it was missing. I started looking for it, wondering if it was something more than a simple fork. When Garth got there to relieve me if you were hours later, he laughed as he watched me crawling around on my hands and knees. Uh, you, uh, you lose something? He called out.

Yeah, I said. You know, I found this weird fork in the hallway and now it's gone. I stopped as his foot came down suddenly. And when I turned, he had the fork trapped under one thick boot. That was a close call. He said, as he reached down and picked up the utensil. Didn't you read the rules, noobie? Don't bring things in from the hallway. I followed him down the corridor. The fork still trying to escape his grasp.

When we reached Cell 29, he opened the peephole to reveal a room full of everyday items. Forks, spoons, kettles, signs. slippers, umbrellas, there were all kinds of things. He threw the fork back inside, and as it landed amongst the mess, the other items, they started inching their way towards the window. Garth closed it shut with a metallic smack. Next time, just throw it down in there. Rule 38, noobie, remember it.

And this leads us to Rule 38, If you find a mundane item in the hallway, put it back into cell 29. Other than remembering the rules, though, the job is pretty much just walking my rounds and keeping an eye on the creatures. Some of them are pretty easy to handle. The various wear animals we have, they mostly just eat, sleep, and hang out in their human forms. But a few of these creatures, they do take some getting used to. For example, did you know that the slender man everyone keeps talking about online is actually an offshoot of a skimwalker? Wild, right?

They aren't even all men either. The slender women? Well, they have one major difference from the males. The males have long tendrils that come out of holes on their backs, but the females, they have these tough, spider-like, arms, they can actually carry them around like legs. Nobody knows why they choose the form they do. Skinwalkers can take on almost any form they want. But for some reason, these ones seem to like the suit and blank face. Speaking of skinwalkers, actually, that brings us to Rule 7. If at any time something familiar appears in a cell without warning or notice, don't let them out.

No matter how much they beg, threaten, scream, do not let them out. I encountered this one on my fourth night in Tartarus. I was doing my 1 a.m. round. I was just sipping some coffee and keeping my eyes on the cells. When I suddenly see Colonel Bampher standing in the middle of a cell, dressed in as usual get up of a white polo and khaki pants, but his face, it was spread in the middle. this wide grin. I tripped after taking a few steps past him, almost dropped my coffee as I walked

back to make sure of what I'd just seen. And he was just standing there and smiling as he looked back at me. Uh, Colonel? I said, reaching for my keys. What the hell are you doing in there? Kid, he said. His voice sounded strange. It didn't match those. wide grin on his face. I got in here, and now I can't move. Help me out, kids. I had the keys in my hand, and they jingled as I approached the door. But I stopped as the last of his words sunk in.

There were such weird choices and words, and the tone and inflection seemed different. It was like someone doing a moment. bad impression. And when I looked up at him, the rule flashed through my head in bright neon. Rule seven, don't open the door for familiar faces. I looked at his oddly smiling face for a few more seconds before putting the keys on my belt and slowly walking away. What you doing, kid? Get me out of here right now. Don't walk away.

Get me out. Get me out. Get me out. The voice in the cell said. I moved away quickly. His words following me as I went. And when I came back for my next round, the cell was empty. As far as I could tell.

As time passed, the rules, they became easier to remember, especially the first 15. Rules 1 through 15 were things we did daily, so they were easier to keep track of. I'd remember the rest when the situation calls for them. I tried to familiarize myself with all the rules in my spare time. Very few of the rules wouldn't get you killed in some way or another, so it was best to remember them so the knowledge would be there when you needed it. All employees, we were issued a little handbook with all the rules and regs in it that was actually part of your working uniform. Handy, right?

So anyway, Charterists became my life pretty quickly. There were no such thing as vacations, and since no one ever left, you had to have entertainment brought in. There were four of us on shifts. Garth, Mabry, Colmes, and myself. Colm and I took turns on the night shift so we could have nights off sometimes. Our schedules rotated enough so that we got every other weekend off. There was a lounge near the sleeping areas where you could play video games, surf the web and watch TV if you were hungry. There was a machine in the galley that could make you anything you wanted, and when I say anything, I mean anything.

I've had Japanese for breakfast, sashimi for lunch, and dollar store top ramen for dinner. There was a full-service bar as well as a bathhouse with a steam room. There were rumors that you could get girls in sometimes if you were feeling lonely. I always felt a little scummy doing something like that. In a way, it was paradise, but it's easy to lose paradise if you weren't careful. I had been living in Tartarus for about five or six years when I arrived one day to find Garth and Maybury with the Colonel. They were waiting for me in the station. What's up, boss? I asked, taking off my coat as I hung it over the chair.

Capture Team has a new one they want to add tonight. Nasty piece of work. Had the boys searching for months looking for this. But we finally found it. I knew better than to ask what it was at this point. I just went to get my rifle from the lie cabinet. Okay, when's it getting here? I asked, as I slid on my body armor, doubting it would help me. In about two hours, he answered.

I want to get it in quick. It's going in to cell 102, and I want us ready to receive it. So that led to the four of us, sitting around for the next two hours as I went about my rounds. Gavin and Maybury played chess, and the colonel napped in one of the control chairs. It was odd how little we saw of the colonel for someone who was the head of operations. He'd pop in once or twice a week, observe operations, and then go back to whatever the hell he did in the rest of his time. I knew he spent a lot of time in Washington, because he told us as well.

much. I knew he spent a lot of time talking to Hambry, the head of the capture team, because he told us that too. Other than that, we really didn't know much about him, except he liked to smoke, and he liked to yell. Did he have a family he went back to after work? Did he lead a normal life while knowing a place like this existed? I guess it doesn't matter now, but it was something to think about while I waited. When the alarm went off to let me know that the outer door was opening, Bantha opened his eyes, and he grinned in the same way that the Skinwalker had. The similarities they made me shiver. Showtime, he whispered, and the four of us took up our rifles and walked out of the office halfway to the inner door. We heard boots coming up the hall. Five-figure

figures moved quickly towards us. Two of them were supporting a third, while Captain Hambry pushed a hand truck with a broken box on it. The man the other two were supporting hung limply between them. He twitched now and then as his feet dragged on the ground. Captain Hambry, the colonel said, I trust it was a success. None no, Hambury said back. He moved swiftly as he headed for the cell. We've got to get this behind glass, he said. They practically ran to the enclosure. The other two took the wounded soldier to the infirmary, as our group moved to keep up. Hambry shoved the damage box into the cell and slammed the door shut, looking very relieved to finally be rid of it. He told the remaining soldiers to make sure

they were getting ready to deport ASAP, and then they moved off to check on the three that had gone to the infirmary. I think you've been off more than you can chew here, Brick," Hambry said, putting his back to the glass as he actively ignored the box behind it. You let me worry about that, Sergeant Hambry. I should hope that your rough handling hasn't damaged my item." He scoff then. If the fall of the Mayan Empire or the active volcano that we dug it out of didn't damage

this thing, I'm pretty sure there's nothing I can do to it. Do yourself a favor, though, huh? Don't touch it. Don't look at it. And keep it in the box. It's hard to resist once you do, he said, taking a last lingering look before leaving. He didn't stay long after that, and it kind of felt like he didn't want to spend any more time around that box than he absolutely had to.

Garth said that he found a few of them at the bar a little later, and he asked what had happened out there. Two of them were in the infirmary after what had happened. We'd never seen the capture team come back in a state like that. He said Hambry had been hesitant to talk about it. But after a few drinks, he'd told Garth. that they'd met some unexpected resistance. Some of the locals were worshipping the idol that came up from a volcano. And they really didn't want to give it up. There'd been some unexpected casualties.

But Hambrey didn't think the team understood how much influence the idol had until they got it back to the chopper. I heard a commotion in the back, and I went back to find shaws with a thing in his hand, pointing his gun and Lancaster. I guess Lancaster had been trying to get it from him so they could secure it. But Shaw's was not willing to give it up. We had to jump on Shaw's to get it away from him. Lancaster was inches away from catching a bullet in the head over it. Hambury had explained. We were never given a lot of information on the things and creatures we took. We were just supposed to keep them from hurting people, not study them, you know. But what we were told was that the idol, it had a strange presence that clouded people's minds. It had messed up a lot of people

over the years. Our organization thought it had been taken off the board until it reemerged again. The idol led to a whole new set of rules, rules that should be followed to the letter. Rule 102A, do not look at the object and sell 102 for extended periods of time. Now, this one wouldn't be hard at first. Whatever they brought in, sat in its box. It was biting its time and remaining unseen. I kept looking and waiting for it to do something, but nothing ever happened. And I began to wonder what all the fuss was about, you know?

Until one day, I came around. the corner of the cell, and I saw something sitting on the box. It is, well, it's hard to explain. It looked like a statue of a fat little goblin. Its mouth was full of sharp little teeth, and the ruby eyes were far more expressive than they had any right to be. I looked away quickly, not wanting to find out what it might do, but I knew I'd have to be back on my guard from now on. I remembered the next rule about the object in Cell 102. Rule 102B,

if you hear a deep voice in your head, ignore it, and under no circumstances should you do what it says. About a week after the thing arrived, I started hearing this little voice in my head that grew louder the longer I stayed near it. Take me out. I heard. I stopped the first time I heard it,

looking around to see somebody who was playing a prank on me. Everyone thought the little thing was creepy. Everyone but Colonel Banther, I wouldn't pass them to try to scare me, but I didn't see anybody. And there didn't seem to be any particular source for the voices. Glancing at the little statue, however,

I could guess that it might be the source. The eyes, they were looking at me. The glittering pupils trained on me like homing missiles. And I looked away and I kept walking. Take me out. Great wealth will be yours. I kept walking. And I suspect that there'll be a new rule

tomorrow about the voice. Cool 102C. If you see someone standing by the enclosure, move them along by force if necessary. This one, it was directed at someone specific, and it should have been no surprise who. Colonel Banther had been seen many times standing in front of the display.

Just looking at the statue, I wasn't the only one who had noticed him either, Both Garth and Maybury had told me to keep him away if I saw him lingering. We're a little worried he may be getting influenced by that statue, Garth said. He's coming by it more often. And we almost always have to find some excuse to make him leave the area, he told me. Garth was older than the rest of us. He's a vet who had been here for nearly 40 years.

And this guy's seen it all. If he told me that Banther was lingering a little too long, it was enough to make me very nervous. Then one night at around 3 a.m., I ran into the colonel standing at the glass and staring at it with this strange look on his face. His fingers and forehead, they were pressed against the glass, and he didn't seem to realize I was there until I shook him.

Like a child who'd been caught doing something naughty. Oh, don't mind me, son. Just taking in the sides? He said, as his eyes strayed back to the strange idol, it is quite mesmerizing. Yes, sir, I said. Why don't you come with me? You know, I think somebody's looking for you.

They said they needed you in the booth, right away, actually. I put a hand on his shoulder as I attempted to scoot him along, but his feet were planted and his eyes were back on the idol. He's the god of the deep places, you know. He is the ruler of that which glitters beneath the earth. Banther continued. He moved a little as I pulled at him, but I winced as his fingers made a squeaking sound across the glass. They say that Cortez himself looked upon this idol, looked upon it, and grew mad to

have the treasures he guarded. I wonder if he was thrown into the volcano with it, or if he was saved at the very last moment. His voice had taken on a dreamy quality, but as we moved away from the cell, he shook himself and seemed to regain some control. Oh, sorry, son. I kind of lost my head back there, huh? Thanks for helping me get back. No problem, sir, I said. When we got to the booth, he made some excuses to leave for his quarters, and he kept away

after that. He only came back to Tartarus, only when he absolutely had to. And I thought the danger was over, but I was far too naive. It all went to hell when Kohlm suddenly died. Now Kome wasn't old, probably 35 or 40 tops, but he had a bad heart, and that's what landed him here. They'd worked on him, much like they had on me, when his battery cell was suddenly flatlined in the middle of the night. There wasn't much that could be done. He went in his sleep.

I was the one who found him. A mercy, I guess. We were roommates. I woke up one morning and I just found him cold in his bunk. They took the body away. We toasted drinks to him that afternoon in the mess. And three days later, I came off a shift to see a new face moving into Colm's old bunk. Ahoy there, he said, offering me a hand.

I'm seaman Norman Skipland, at your service. Skipland, or Skipper, as we called him, was younger than any of us by a decade. He looked like he'd messed himself up at boot camp, though he claimed to be 26. None of us believe them. He had that youthful enthusiasm that it makes you just, you know, want to throttle him. And this guy followed me around like a puppy. Bantor said I was to work with him for the first week, but after that he would have to ride solo or be washed out.

I'm sure there's a hundred different beasties here who would take care of him for us, he commented. He laughed to show it was a joke, but it never reached his eyes. Skipper, it seemed, had made it through basic. He'd served in the Navy for about two years before his accident. He was foggy on the details. Probably because it'd been his fault, I assumed. He ended up with a missing arm and became prime candidate for Tartarus' wounded soldier exchange, as we called it. He was willing and capable enough, but I should have been wary after that first night. The first time he saw that idol, he got the same look that Bantther had. And I had, I had to have

I had to drag him to the next cell so we could get on with a tour. As the first week passed, I saw him spending more and more time around the cell. He did help me feed the captives and keep an eye out for his scapees in trouble. But he always seemed to make his way back to cell 102. Sometimes I would see him lingering by it on the camera. His eyes would be glued to the glass, and his fingers would leave streaks on it. When I questioned him about it, he always said the same things I was used to when it came to the idol.

Oh, I just got distracted for a second. I, you know, I thought I heard a voice, so I went to investigate. I don't know. I must be adjusting to the new shift or something. I guess I just got a little space. I see, huh? He would say. And I didn't buy any of it.

I reminded him of the rules, but the ones about cell 102 seemed the hardest for him to remember. And then the night before he was supposed to fly solo, I lost track of him for nearly an hour. That's not entirely true, I suppose. I knew where he was. I knew where I'd find him. I just put it off because I didn't want to think that it had its hooks in him. I was tired. I'd been working 12 nights straight by this point, and I really wanted this guy to be ready.

I hoped that if I just kept refreshing the rules the way the colonel had done for me, you know, it might be okay. But more importantly, he might be okay. I found him near 102. His face was again pressed against the glass as he watched the idle. Skipper, come on, man, we can't hang out here. I said, trying to bring him out of his trance. And he didn't move an inch.

Skipper, you there? We need to... He's trapped. Skipper whispered. He's trapped in there. and he needs a way out. I put a hand on his arm and tried to lead him away. Yeah, that's right, buddy. He's trapped.

But he's supposed to be trapped. We need to move on, though. We need to... I said, jerking his arm hard. But his feet were like lead. And he cut me off with his ramblings. He has riches beneath the earth. If we help him, you give us whatever we want.

Gold and jewels and wealth and power. And... I was dragging him away now. And he was bucking and pulling as I tried to get him away from the cell. He growled like a freaking jungle cat, trying to fight me every step of the way. But as we went around a bend, and the idol was no longer in sight,

He stopped fighting and just looked around. He was confused, but I sensed some of it might be shame in reality. I knew what I had to do. I knew there wouldn't be any breaks for me. I sent him to get some rest, saying that he'd been acting strangely. And as he went over to the crew quarters, I called the colonel. was awake. And I laid it all out for him. Skipper had probably been snared by the thing in Cell 102. He wasn't fit to serve alone, and he might never be. If we left him by himself,

it'd be a catastrophe. The Colonel listened and hummed, and finally told me that if it was my evaluation, then he'd stand by it. All right, well, we'll find a better replacement, and we'll put Skipland, somewhere else. We have a few facilities like this, and maybe he might." He went on, but I'd stop listening. I was watching the cameras, and Skipper was back in front of the cell again. Son, you there? The colonel said. He slid his key into the lock, and he opened the door to the cell. What's going on?

Everything okay? Hello? I could hear the colonel say, but I was too distracted by what was on the camera feeds. I saw Skipper pick up the statue and press its hideous face close to his, and that's when all the cameras suddenly turned to static before coming back to life. Skipper. Skipper was gone, but I'd already done what needed doing. Rule 102D. In the event that the idol makes it out of containment, seal tartarus until a clean team can come in and regain order.

The big red emergency button was on the console. And as I pressed it, I heard the alarm blare, and I knew that there was no escape now. not for me and hopefully not for Skipper either or more importantly whatever new friend Skipper had made in that damn idol I've been sitting in the control room

for the last few hours listening to the blare of the alarms from the camera feed I can see that the idol isn't the only thing that's been freed the slender men are walking around unsupervised there's a rake

free in the southern corridor. There's a dead skin walker near Cell 56. That one contains the captive prince that the Vatican says may or may not be an actual demon. One of the corridors is filled with nothing

but moving spoons, forks, and umbrellas. And there's a deeper rumbling from further end that's punctuated by a siren that has nothing to do with a security. system. I hope the clean team is well suited for the task, but I've been seeing flashes of a familiar

face on the monitors. Whatever vengeful spirit lived in that sculpture, it's inside Skipper now. I think it's looking to free itself and others, though the others may be incidental. It wants to be free to walk the world, and it doesn't care if it has to burn it down to do it. He's banging at my door now. And I certainly hope it can hold up against whatever might be controlling the poor guy. And if that fails, well, I've got the armory behind me.