Lighthouse Horror Podcast - If you hear a bell ringing in this forest, RUN! | Scary Stories

Episode Date: November 25, 2023

She'll steal your soul!       Story from Saturdead   Make sure to check out more of their work at u/Saturdead                          Original Post: The Many Deaths of the Six-Door House : r/nosleep  Original YouTube link: If you hear a bell ringing in this forest, RUN!       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!

Every national park has its fair share of missing persons cases. A lot of them do get a happy ending. But far too many of them stay lost. And that's how the Lady Bluebell program started as a way to find lost hikers. There were two incidents in the program that I've never been able to tell anyone about. For everyone's safety, these two are secrets I need to take to my grave. One summer when I was a kid, my parents drove me out to a nearby national park.

They had a junior ranger club where kids were introduced to wildlife knowledge and survival. I wasn't sure about it at first, but I gave it a try. Back in July of 98, all 12 junior rangers set out on a night walk. Along with our guide, we had to pack our own survival kit and make our way to one of the ranger stations. There, we'd unpack and be graded based on what we brought. There was this excitement in the air. It was like a graduation. We were to become official wildlife stewards, as they call it. We paired up in a buddy system, and we followed the trail. The man in charge, Ranger Dan, had done that walk every summer for the past 12 years. He was prepared for a lot of things, but nature had other plans that

night. I remember him holding up a hand, silently asking us to stop and listen. There was this deep, groaning noise somewhere in the dark. I heard a rustling in the bushes, and I saw two glowing eyes in the shine of our flashlights. It was a black bear. My buddy, panicked, bolted into the woods. We have to stay together, so I did my best to keep up with him. I yelled at him to stop, but by the time he did, we'd been separated from the rest of the group. I couldn't even see their flashlights anymore. Luckily, the Rangers had the Lady Bluebell system in place. All over the park, they'd wrap blue tape around the trees and tie a bell in the direction of the closest ranger station or trail. Even in the dark, you could hear a bell go off

every now and then, and you could check the bell to get the right directions. We'd been taught that if all else fails, all we had to do was follow three simple steps. Stop? Listen. Look. Lady Bluebell takes you home. Those were the rules. The first moment when I realized we were lost, it was horrifying, but I did what I've been told to do. Stop. Listen. Look. Lady Bluebell would take us home.

And I swear, not only did I hear that bell. I saw her. A tall woman in a blue dress off in the distance, a sun-tanned arm pointing on. us in the direction of the trail. Long, dark hair, framing a brilliant smile. Maybe I remember it wrong. Maybe she wasn't really there. But I think she was. We made our way back to the trail. Not long after that, we spotted flashlights in the distance. The rest of the night was nothing but praise from Ranger Dan, all the hot dogs we could eat, and scary stories. around a campfire. I never told anyone about seeing Lady Bluebell. My mom thought that night would scare

me away from the Junior Rangers, but strangely, it had the opposite effect. I used what I'd learned to survive, to win. And that's when I knew I wanted to be a Park Ranger. Nowadays, I'm the one running the Junior Ranger Club. Ranger Dan retired back in 2000. but still volunteers for the club in the summer. I have known the area for over a decade, and I'm confident when I say that I know my way around. I know what animals roam, which areas, and I can tell what's coming by the shifting seasons. I know how flash floods smell, and I can tell by the taste of the air when a lightning

storm is coming. Now the park has changed a lot, though. the Lady Bluebell program, for example. Over the years, it evolved into a sort of mascot. She was portrayed as this beautiful woman in a blue summer dress. She also had her sidekicks, like the mischievous Ricky Raccoon and Sunny the Sad Sunflower. They hired a woman to dress like her every summer to welcome the junior rangers and teach them the system. There were comic books, trading cards, stamps, and merchandise. But there were issues.

Over time, some visitors to the park began stealing the blue tape as souvenirs. Others just took the bell. Some even moved the bell around, purposely pointing it in the wrong direction. Over time, the effort required to constantly fix the system started to outweigh the benefits. They eventually ditched the Lady Bluebell Takes You Home motto and retired the mascot. And I was sad to see her go, but made sense. Just wasn't practical anymore, you know? So it was late August. I was following our southeastern trail, mapping the movements of an elk herd. The leaves were just about to change color. And there was a hint of cold in the air.

was just around the corner. I was ready to head back when I spotted smoke just off the trail. Nothing big, possibly a campfire. I decided to check it out just in case. And I came upon a small camp. It had a tattered one-man tent and neon orange. There was a hastily constructed campfire with what looked like a grilled squirrel. And I caught a whiff of sweat coming from the tent, giving me the impression that whoever lived here had been here for a while. Hello? I called out. Anyone here? I heard a shout in response and hurried footsteps. Someone falling, getting up, and sprinting in my direction. And seconds later, a young woman crawled into camp. Her hair, it was a tangled mess, and she was deeply sunburnt.

Her lips were dry and pale, and her hands kept shaking. The moment she saw me, her eyes welled up with tears. Yes, she cried. My God, yes. She got up then and flung her arms around me, crying onto my shoulder. She tried to say something, but every other word that stuck in her throat... Did... did I make it? She sniffled.

Am I out? I sat her down, offered her some water, and I asked her to explain what happened. I just... I just can't believe my luck, she said. I thought it was all over. Now, nothing had prepared me for this. We weren't out looking for anyone. We hadn't been for months, maybe years. It's okay, I said.

Let's pack you up and get you home. Her name was Anya Baker. She'd been part of a company retreat and got lost somewhere along the way. She figured she'd been on her own for about two weeks, but there was no way to tell for sure. She was malnourished and dehydrated, and I didn't think she had the strength to make it back. The closest ranger station was quite a way off. We got back to the trail, and we started making our way back. I took out my radio to call it in. I used to come here all the time, Anya said. Never thought I'd get lost.

Yeah, well, happens to the best of us. I smiled. You made it. That's what counts. Anya sighed. I thought I did it right. I stopped, listened, and looked. I followed the bells, all of it. She said, her hands shaking. We don't do that anymore, I explained. Yeah, I figured. She muttered. I told Anya that the Lady Bluebell program had been discontinued for over a decade. I found it strange she'd found any bells at all. I hadn't seen them in years. But there were more immediate concerns.

For one, my radio was dead. I brought out my backup batteries, but the radio stayed silent. Still, Anya was in better shape than I thought, so I figured we'd make it back by nightfall. About 200 feet down the trail, something started to feel wrong. Looking around, I couldn't see any of the usual landmarks. We continued another 10 minutes, only to see the trail suddenly stop, not slowly disappear into moss, just stop altogether. There were no trails like that here, trails that just ended in a dead stop. And I wasn't taking any chances. I picked up my flare gun, aimed it up, asked Anya to stand back, and fired. The light soared into the sky

with a whoosh, bathing the tree tops with an intense red glow. All right, now we sit tight, and I said, they can't find us if we keep moving. Anya made. herself comfortable on a log and took a swig from my canteen. Lady Bluebell takes you home, she sighed. She shook her head and handed back my canteen. A twinkle in her eye came and went. Not anymore, it seems. We stayed out there for hours.

We shared a protein bar and Anya helped me set up a campfire. To my surprise, there was a stream nearby. There wasn't supposed to be, but there was. We boiled some water, refilled my canteen, and made ourselves comfortable. It could be hours before help arrived. It didn't take long for the sky to turn black. I figured no one would find us in the dark, so we set up camp. Anya had her tent, and I had a hammock, and we both went to bed early.

But I couldn't get any sleep. It didn't make sense. You know, I'd walk that trail a thousand times. My eyes drifted into the dark. I noticed a strip of blue tape wrapped around a nearby tree. I hadn't seen it before. Maybe it wasn't there until I started to look for it. Anya was awake long before I was.

She heated up a pack of chickpeas from my pack and sliced up some salami. I went to refill the water canteen, but I couldn't find my way back to the stream, realizing it just wasn't there anymore. It made my blood run cold. I knew these woods, like the back of my hand, and suddenly it felt like I'd found an extra finger. None of this made any sense. I checked my map and double-checked my compass. There was nothing even close to a landmark in our vicinity. Anya was staring at me from across the campfire, and she gave me a reassured smile. I saw her once, you know, she said, back when I was a junior. Yeah. Well, it's not uncommon. I said, lots of kids think they see her. We all make her up in our minds,

you know, trying to convince one another that she's real. No, no. I mean, really saw her. Dress and all tall as hell. I wasn't even lost. She just stood there looking at me, she said. Yeah, well, shadows can play tricks on us, I said. And I will admit I was getting a little nervous.

No, no. See, that's the thing. Anya laughed. It was the middle of the day. We waited all day long, but no flares went up. And we decided that the next morning we would hike out. Heading straight north should bring us to one of the main trails. I couldn't bring myself to tell Anya that I, too, had seen.

same lady bluebell. And that night, I stayed up listening to the wind. I tried to ignore it, but I couldn't. And the more I tried to avoid it, the more I heard it. Distant bells. The next day, we packed up and got moving. Anya was much better off than when I'd first met her, but we'd used up most of my rations. Still had some left, but we'd have to start foraging soon. Still, the trail shouldn't be more than a few hours out. We hiked through a clearing, stepping over collapsed trees and tall grass. When I saw something in the distance, I waved Anya over and we took a detour. It was one of our old stop, listen, and look signs.

I hadn't seen one in years, but someone had asked. I added don't to every line with bright blue paint. Don't stop. Don't listen. Don't look. Lady Blue Bell won't take you home. We came to the same conclusion. We weren't alone out here.

We continued North, but I couldn't help feeling that there was something off about this whole area. There were broken branches. all over the trail. There was a spot next to a large rock that looked like someone had been sleeping there. I even found a few footprints, but Anya swore she'd never been there before. By late afternoon, I was getting worried. Not only had there been more tracks, but they were getting fresher. I started to take a closer look at the footprints so I could tell them apart. I needed to figure out how many others were.

out here. I was following the tracks of at least three people. When I saw another clearing ahead of us, it took me a minute to realize that we were walking in circles. I could even see the stop, listen, look sign in the distance. I brought out my compass, took on you by the arm, and kept going. We had to try again. I don't know when or where we got turned around, but we couldn't stopped now. And we kept going north. And this time, I did not put away my compass for one second. At one point, we stopped to drink some water. And I looked back for a second. And I saw something in the distance. I couldn't tell what it was, but it was running. It took me several seconds to realize that it was human. A young man, rough hair with cuts all over his legs and arms. He was only wearing a pair of torn jeans, and he didn't run like people usually do. He was hunched over and flailing his arms. He kept

doing this strange motion with his neck like a bobblehead, never standing still. As he got closer, I could hear this constant mumbling. I couldn't hear what he was saying. I only understood that it was repeating. And then I noticed the sharpened rock in his hand. Before I realized what was about to happen, he charged us. He went for Anya first, but she was too quick for him. I grabbed my camping shovel from the side of my backpack, and I took this wild swing. I clocked him right across the side of his face, severing a part of his ear. He reeled back and fell over. He struggled to regain his balance. But the hit made his eyes spin. His mouth kept opening and closing like a fish out of water, forming the same words over and over again.

Don't stop. Don't listen. He looked straight at me, and a tear ran down his eye. Look. His voice shook. His eyes flicked to something off to my side, a piece of blue tape hanging from a broken tree. He jumped up and fled in a bent over gallop, bracing himself against trees and stumps. Anya just stood there, frozen, and I tried to put my hand on her shoulder, but she slapped it away. Just give me a... Keep me a second," she said. Please.

After that, we slowed down, and I kept hearing noises in the distance, mumbled words and snapping twigs, and sometimes when there was a sudden gust of wind, there'd be bells, sometimes one, sometimes several. But we just kept moving north. As night fell, I realized I didn't want to stop. Whenever we stopped, the sounds would get louder and the bells would get closer. Anya wasn't doing much better. She sat next to our campfire for hours, slowly rocking back and forth. Sometimes I'd see her snapping her head in one direction or the other, as if reacting to something that only she could hear. I couldn't sleep for hours. I stared up at the night sky, waiting for the moon to show.

But it never did. When I finally got up, it was still dark. I checked my watch, but it had stopped just before midnight. Anya was still up, staring. into the dying campfire. It's been, uh, it's been more than a couple weeks, said Anya. Time stopped making sense a long time ago. What was the last date you remember?

I asked her. Late July, I think, she said. And then something whispered in the back of my mind. What year? Anya and I locked. eyes. And I repeated the question. What year, Anya, she didn't respond. And a chill crawled up my spine. And I thought, I don't know who the hell is sitting across from me or what she's really seen. We should pack up, she said, breaking the tension. It's still dark, I pointed out.

Sometimes it stays that way for a while Anya said staring into the trees Okay, Anya You're not making any sense I said Sometimes it stays dark She breaks the rules to keep us here I've been here so long

That I don't know what's real anymore I thought I could trick myself into forget but she won't let me. She's there. She's always there. I didn't say anything. Anya kept pacing back and forth, scratching the back of her head. I wrote that damn sign, she said.

Because when you stop, she's there. When you listen, you hear her. her. And when you look, when you look, Anja grabbed my shoulder and turned me around. When you look. And I saw her then. In the distance, I saw her. A bone thin woman, a few tufts of hair clinging to her scalp, a broken jaw hanging like a loose thread, swaying in the the breeze. I could smell something sour coating my tongue. And of course, her signature blue dress, Lady Bluebell. I looked back only to see Anya backing away. Her pack full. She'd taken my canteen, and there was this wild fear in her eyes. I can't let her take me. Anya said, I'm so. I'm

Sorry. I'm so sorry. And before I could process what she'd done, a sound cut through the forest. Bells. There were so many bells. I turned to see the broken woman towering over me. My legs buckled as I looked up at this nine-foot-tall monster. her torn blue dress was lined with bells that chimed as she moved closer. And I knew then that she wasn't going to let me leave. I stepped back and she stepped forward.

Her feet barely touched the ground, floating inches above the moss. She wasn't here to help me get home. And I turned and ran. I snagged my foot on fallen rocks. I fell down a sudden slope, dropping half my gear. I bloodied my hands and face, but I kept going. And somewhere along the way, the sun rose, stopping for air. I realized I couldn't hear the bells anymore.

But the moment I stopped to listen, I heard one. I had to keep going. I don't know how long I was out there, at least a couple of days. I kept moving, stopping only for short rest. Sometimes I dream of bells, and I'd wake up hearing them. The slightest thought of Lady Blue Bell drew her to me, like a moth to an open flame. I'd hear the bells long before I saw her, and she was always there just one stray thought away. I survived by eating boiled pine cones, roots, and eggs from warbler nest.

I tried to track my progress, but there was no way to navigate. I'd either end up where I came from or going in the wrong direction. I saw that same sign and that same clearing at least a dozen times. Don't stop, don't listen, don't look. My feet were torn up and I'd grown a solid stubble. I was barely sleeping and I was having trouble keeping my thoughts straight. I remember sitting by a stream not knowing how I got there. Maybe the same stream I'd seen when I first saw Anya.

I was wringing out my socks and trying my best to ignore my shivering hands. I felt so tired. Just getting back on my feet felt so impossible that I couldn't force myself to do it. So I just sat there with one naked foot in the ice-cold water. My skin turned from a painful purple to a sickly blue. And it took me a moment to realize that I wasn't alone, but it wasn't Lady Bluebell. It was Anya just across the stream. She looked at me with pity.

She looked almost apologetic. And it took me a few seconds to notice the makeshift spear in her hand. No doubt she used the Swiss Army knife she stole from my pack. I really am sorry, she said. After she feeds, she calms down. When she's calm, you can get out. I had to bring someone new one. I listened to her.

I almost didn't even care. I couldn't bring myself to curse or scream. I just hated Anya and what she'd turned me into. I kept my eyes on the stream, watching the water turn my foot a new shade of blue. Just take a nap, she said. Lean back and just let it happen. No fuss. No drama. I barely listened. All I could think of was that tinge of blue spreading across my foot. It made me think of bells. It made me look for her.

That's it, said Anya, readying her spear. Keep still. I looked down in my hands, covered in scabs and bruises, and suddenly a pain shot through my left leg. A quick jab from her spear in my body. body exploded with intense pain. It was like a burst of electricity shot through me. As my blood mixed with the stream, I could feel my heart beating out of my chest.

I crawled backwards, unable to put any weight on my leg. Anya backed away, staying just close enough to make sure Lady Bluebell was fed. But the lady was already there. I think my thoughts had called her, and this time I couldn't run. I heard the bells ringing closer, and I saw a long shadow cover the ground. I looked back for a moment, catching a glimpse of her dead eyes coming from me. Lady Bluebell didn't take you home anymore. I couldn't run, but I had to try something.

Anything. So I shut my eyes as tight as I could, and I pushed my fingers into my ears, and I screamed. I figured that if I couldn't listen or look, maybe she'd be less interested in feeding on me. I focused on the pain in my leg, letting it take over my thoughts. My pulse went haywire, pushing me to panic and to run. But I didn't. There was a soft touch of cloth against my head. Little metal bells dragged across my body as Lady Blue Bell

passed by me. She didn't want someone who couldn't look or listen. But Anya did. Keeping my eyes shut, I kept screaming until my throat felt raw. I felt a thump as something dropped to the ground, and I could feel the ground tremble with quick footsteps. Someone was running, and then a sudden stop. For what felt like in eternity, it was just me and my thoughts.

she got away. Maybe we both made it. And then something needy bumped into me. Something warm and wet. It spattered onto my clothes and stained my face,

drowning the air with a stench of blood. There was a feeling in the air like a vibration or a scream. But I didn't turn to look. And I didn't listen. Hours later, I made myself a crutch from a small branch.

I pressed wet moss into my ears, and I kept my eyes shut. Blind and death? I forced myself forward. It was just inches at a time, and every step shot lightning through me. And somewhere along the way, I felt a son. solid trail under my feet, and I opened my eyes, and I noticed familiar landmarks. My watch started ticking, and my radio came alive. I was back on familiar ground. Anya had been right. You could get away after a feeding. Later, I found out that I'd been gone six weeks.

And it was none other than Ranger Dan that had found me as he led a troop of junior rangers around the same trail as all those years ago. Now that some time has passed and my leg has healed, I've been assigned to an administrative position. And I stay away from the woods as much as I can. I haven't told anyone about what really happened, not only because it sounds completely. completely insane, but because knowing about it might actually put them in danger. I might not get along with everyone, but I would not wish Lady Bluebell on my worst enemy.

Anya Baker was indeed reported missing from a company retreat about eight years ago. The crazed young man was a mystery. No one matching his description had been been reported missing for years. When I was young, Lady Bluebell was the spirit of the woods. We stopped along the trails to listen and look, hoping some part of her was still out there. Maybe the world changes when we look at it. And sometimes it changes when we don't. I believe that she was some collective.

objective consciousness of belief, remaining in a forgotten part of what the park used to be. A creature we all made and abandoned, like the ghost of someone who never truly was unheard, unseen, and unstoppable.