Lighthouse Horror Podcast - My Family Has ONE RULE. Always Knock Before You Enter Every Room | Scary Stories

Episode Date: March 4, 2024

Something happens if you don't.         Story from AsDeathBeckons  Make sure to check out more of their work at u/AsDeathBeckons Cover Art from Didier Konings            Original Post: My mom made us knock before we entered every room : r/nosleep  Original YouTube link: My Family Has ONE RULE. Always Knock Before You Enter Every Room           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!

Your mom tells you to knock on every door before you go in or something terrible will happen. Do you A, trust your mother and continue knocking on every single door for the rest of your life. B, have your mother committed to an insane asylum? Or C, see what happens if you don't knock. This is what Derwin did. All my life, I've always done it. I was doing it from the days when I'd begun walking and first started opening doors. I always knock, and I don't mean out of politeness for the person on the other side.

I mean, I knock on every door, even if the room on the other side is empty. My mother ingrained this deeply in both me and my sister Doris. I still remember going to school and being looked at strangely by the other kids every time I knocked on the restroom, classroom, or cafeteria doors. My sister and I looked at them strangely too. Why the hell weren't they knocking before going in like everyone else? We continued our tradition, even though we knew that we weren't like everyone else. When I was in third grade, someone finally asked me why I knocked every single time on

every single door. I didn't have a legit answer for him, so I went to my mother with the same question. Mama, why do we knock every time before we go into a room? My mother, who looked older than her 32 years, glanced at me with ferocity in her eyes. Don't question me, child. Don't let those little hooligans at school get you into more trouble than you can possibly imagine. We knock, because we must.

That's all you need to know. Ask me that question again and see what happens. I didn't ask that question again. And so my sister and I adapted. We kept knocking, but we started to make a joke out of it. Eventually our classmates just came to accept it. Doris and I weren't weirdos or psychopaths. We were just like everyone else, save for the knocking.

And I hate to continue harping on, but when I say we did it without fail. We did it without fail. Sleepy and wandering to the bathroom late at night? Knock knock. It was as common as moving one step in front of the other, something we would never forget. I met a girl named Perla in college and fell in love. We married, and a couple of years later had our first child, a girl we named Dorothy. I remember my mother being as enthused and ecstatic as any other grandmother.

Then came the day when she saw Dorothy walking for the first time. Her eyes weren't full of excitement or glee as I would have expected. No. Instead, she looked concerned. And, Derwin, I want you to start teaching my little angel to knock on doors. Anyone else would have laughed, thought that maybe she was joking. But not me, not knowing how I'd been raised or how seriously my mother took knocking. Don't worry, Mom, I will, I will.

I'm serious, Derwin. Her eyes were bearing into mine. The intensity made me desperately uncomfortable. What the hell did she believe would happen if we didn't knock? I began researching the concept of knocking on doors. I looked into superstitions, but couldn't quite find anything that fit my mother's tradition. I began to suspect that my mother was paranoid, maybe even mentally ill, and I called Doris about it. That's just Mom, Derwin. Don't dwell on it.

She won't know if Dorothy's knocking on doors or not since she doesn't live with you. Maybe not at my place, but what about when I take her to moms to visit? Don't worry about it. Dorothy is your daughter, not moms, and you can raise her however you like. I wish I could have been so carefree about it as my sister, but as Dorothy grew taller. I knew the time was coming. She was finally able to reach the doorknob. My mother came to visit us one evening.

We had dinner, and as Perla was washing the dishes, Mom watched Dorsey. Dorothy wander around the living room. She is something else, Derwin. You have taught her to knock, right? I knew this was coming, and I had my speech ready. Mom. Listen. I'm glad you raised me the way you did, but...

Dorothy! My mom interrupted. My daughter was standing with her hand on the doorknob to the bathroom. My mother dashed across the living room, the fastest I've ever seen her move. and grabbed Dorothy before she could twist the knob. She fell to the floor with my daughter in her arms as Perla ran up, looking startled. Mom, hand her to me, I declared angrily. Enough was enough.

I took my daughter and looked down at my mother, who slowly rose to her feet, tears rolling down her face. Derwin, you have to listen to me. She must knock, just like you and your sister. Why, Mom? If you tell me why, I promise, I promise, I'll teach her to do it. My mother stared at me, seemingly lost for words. She opened her mouth, but closed it again, shaking her head as she closed her eyes. My anger had gotten the better of me, and I decided that I'd prove a point. For the first time in my life, I was going to open a door without knocking.

Mom, you have nothing to be afraid of. And you know what, today I'm going to prove it to you. I reached for the doorknob. Before I could turn it, however. My mother pushed me aside, her face still wet as she looked at my daughter. No, Derwin. I'll prove it to you. What happened next?

Will haunt me till the day I die. My mother opened the door. It wasn't even fully open before a long, clawed, inhuman gray hand sprung forth like a snake striking its prey. It seized my mother by her face and yanked her violently into the room. The door slammed behind her as my daughter burst into tears and behind me. My wife fainted. I was dazed. Nothing made sense in that moment.

Once the initial shock subsided, I dashed to my feet and ran up to the door, intent on rescuing my mother. Before I opened it, however, the instinct to knock kicked in more urgently than ever before. I paused for a moment, putting my ear against the door. There was silence on the other side. I knocked just once and then pushed it open. The bathroom was just that? A bathroom.

There was no blood, no monster, no other world, and no mother. I threw aside the shower curtains and I checked every inch of that room. Then I stepped out, closed the door, knocked and opened it again. I can hardly bring myself to look at the bathroom door anymore. I avoid that room at all times now, only using the one upstairs. I'm sorry there's no dramatic reveal or resolution in this story, but I want my mother back. And I think about her sacrifice. What could have possibly become of her to this day?

And I put every ounce of my being into making sure my daughter knocks every time. Hey guys. First, I want to say thanks for the kind words some of you have offered. Though this incident took place five years ago, it was such a surreal and terrifying way to lose a parent. It's something I obviously try not to think too much about, but after reading all of your theories about my mother's knocking tradition, I became inspired. A few of you brought up some good points.

Why does this affliction seem to only affect my family? Do I have any more family? Do multiple dimensions exist, and is it possible that my mother is still a little? alive. My father left us when my sister and I were very young. My mother only spoke of one other relative as we were growing up, her brother Ward, who lived in the town just north of us. Though he was nearby, my mother had never introduced us to our uncle. She spoke very sparingly of him, but when she did, she seemed to have a certain sadness in her. I found myself curious about him and ended up going through some of my mother's things. I found one of those old

contact books, and as I'd hoped, Ward's number was in it. At least I hoped it was still his number. I stared at the phone a long time, wondering if I wanted to open up old wounds. But if there was a possibility that my mother was still alive, I had to find out. His voice was gruff. I hesitated before responding. Hello. Am I speaking with Ward Woodson? Who's asking? My name. My name My name is Derwin. I'm... Dorenda's boy. I found myself almost tearing up.

It was good to be speaking to someone else in my family besides my sister for the first time. What happened to her? She all right? My heart dropped. No, she's not. Is it possible for me to see you in person? Ward gave me his address, and I let my wife know that I was going to be leaving for a couple hours. The sun was down when I arrived at Ward. I knocked on his front door and was not surprised

to hear a responding knock before the door opened. Ward was a big man. He towered over me. His face mostly obscured by a wild gray beard. His eyes, though. They were like mine and like my mother's. Derwin. Come on in. I walked in and sat on the couch when he motioned me to. He's He seemed to be somewhat of a pack rat. Through all of his junk, however, I saw a picture of a young couple who only could have been my grandparents. You want a beer?

Sure, I replied, and cracked it open after he handed it to me. He was already drinking one. He sat in a recliner and looked at me, long and hard. You come a long drive to tell me something important. Yes, sir. It's about my mother. She opened a door without knocking. Oh my God, Ward said, standing up and beginning to pace.

I stared down at the floor. It was my fault. I was being stubborn when she insisted on me teaching my daughter to knock. She did it to save our lives, I said. My uncle shook his head, also staring down at the floor. Don't beat yourself up. I know exactly how you feel. I was the reason my old man was taken from me.

You know, kids, never listening to their parents? I opened the door and he shoved me out of the way. He was taken by them instead. We made eye contact. This is exactly what I'd come for. I wanted to know the truth. Who is them? I asked.

Ward looked like he wanted to tell me something, but then he shook his head and sat back down. He chugged his beer and looked at me. We don't speak of them. There's a chance they can come out if we do. I clenched my fist. Ward. I need to know the truth. I don't want my daughter to be at risk for the rest of her life.

What if she forgets to knock or something? I can't bear to lose her, not after what happened to my mom. Please. Ward looked at the nearest door in the room. I'm telling you, if we talk about them, they can. I'm willing to take that chance, I interrupted. Ward looked into my face, sighed, and drained the rest of his beer. You look like your mother, you know that?

I could never forgive myself for what. I did to our father. I cut myself away from Durinda out of guilt. Before it happened, we both thought our paw had lost his mind. He told us about them when we were teenagers. He called them the forgotten. He glanced over at the door again. I stared at it too, then looked back at my uncle as he continued to speak. They exist in a realm that no human can see. At least At least none but us. Thirteen generations ago, we had an ancestor named George Woodson. Story goes, he was sort of a blood magic practitioner and messed with things he wasn't supposed

to mess with. He discovered a dimension that exists right alongside our own. That's when he found the ones that had been forgotten. The door shook and both my uncle and myself sprung. to our feet. We stared at the door, but there was no more movement. Well, nephew, I think that's enough. No. If you have more to tell me, please. Ward looked at me like I was crazy, but sighed and went on. Well, somehow old George survived his initial encounter with the forgotten. He went on to document what he saw, but those old journal

were destroyed somewhere in our line a long time ago. But blood magic is just that. Binded by blood. George lost three children before he was able to teach them the only way to avoid the forgotten realm. Something so simple, yet had to be done every single time. Knocking. I was mind blown.

I glanced at the door again before asking one last question. So he survived after coming across them. So that means it's possible. My mom's still alive. I couldn't tell you. I'd rather believe she's not tell you the truth. Just promise me something, nephew. Promise me you won't do anything stupid, he said.

I'm sorry. I can't make that promise. I have to do something to make things right. I can't let the forgotten keep on tormenting. The door began to open. My uncle dashed over to it and rammed his shoulder against it. I heard what sounded like a pained, very human-like scream emanate from within. That's when I heard the front door beginning to creak open as well.

I turned and ran, nearly tripping over some of the junk before I got it. out there. I slammed into the door with all my weight, trapping the clawed, gnarled hand that was protruding from within. Darwin, the thing on the other side said, and I lost it. I pushed harder, but now it seemed as though the thing was forcing its leg, which looked malnourished, out to gain leverage on me. I heard a knock behind me, and then my uncle was coming to my aid. He stomped on the leg, causing the creature to scream and pull it back in. The arm followed. And once the door was closed, my uncle knocked frantically. The forceful pushing from the other side stopped. The two of us stared at the

door, panting, sweat rolling down our faces. We've been talking about him for less than five minutes, and they were able to do all that? Ward looked back at me. I told you. They're supposed to remain forgotten. And if they aren't, Ward swallowed. Then they will roam freely in this realm. Derwin, you're really starting to scare me? My sister stood with her arms crossed, giving our uncle Ward a skeptical look. I couldn't blame her.

He was standing with two pistols strapped to his waist, just like I was. Come on, Doris. If you were ever to believe me about something, this would be it. I'm not planning on sacrificing myself, but if something happens, you need to be here to see it. I need you to document it. This is for my child, your future children, and their children too. If we manage to kill one of these things, hell, even just catching it on camera, then it'll be the only evidence that they'll ever need.

They'll keep knocking on doors for the rest of their lives." I said. Why can't we just try this with a glass sliding door? Doris countered. Come on dee, you ever seen anything on the other side before you knock on a sliding door? The dimension is only open when we first open the door. It's not just perpetually sitting there every time we go into another room. Doris looked between me and Ward.

Do you even know how to shoot a gun? Uncle Ward gave me a quick lesson. I just need you to record, okay? I'm going to jump back if I can. Once the thing comes out, Ward is going to shoot it. Nobody will get hurt if we do this correctly, I said. Doris still didn't look convinced, but she sighed and picked up her phone. Fine, but I'm going to do it with you. Doris, you can't.

That defeats the whole purpose, I said. Chris raised a finger and pointed at me. Look, we shared the womb together. We came into this world at the same time. If you're going to risk your life, then I'm going to be here with you. That's the only way I'll agree to stand here and film this. Wow. You really are your mother's daughter, said Ward, looking impressed.

I sighed. He was right. She was just as stubborn as mom had been. All right. So be it. Let's get ready. I'm going to open the door on three. Ward cocked both pistols and aimed them at the door.

My sister grabbed my left hand with her right and raised her cell phone, which was recording with the other. I gripped the knob, my heart racing. For the first time in my 33 years of life, I was going to do what my mother had always cautioned me not to. I just hoped Ward was a good shot. All right. All right.

One. Two. Three. I turned the knob and jumped back instinctively. To my utmost shock, however, no hand sprung from within. The door creaked slowly inward, revealing what looked to be a heavily foggy, mountainous terrain. I couldn't believe it. I was really staring into another dimension.

What? What? What the hell are we looking at?" Doris wondered out loud. Her eyes even wider than mine. I shook my head. I don't know, but I'm going in. Ward and Doris both looked over at me.

Look, I want to find out what happened to Mom. Stay here and wait for me with the door open. If I don't come back, well, you know what to do. You heard him, Ward? My sister murmured, tossing him the cell phone. Close it if we don't return." Doris and I stepped into the forgotten realm, still holding hands. I could hear Ward praying behind us.

The air was cold. My breath was surely rising in front of me, but there was so much fog I couldn't tell. I didn't know what to expect or where to go. We could have been leapt upon at any moment. This was a dimension completely separate from our own. It didn't have to follow the same. rules. We trotted on quietly, carefully. There was no sound, no plants, no sign of life. This place wasn't supposed to exist if it even existed at all. There was a movement. I spun around aiming my pistol

at the monstrosity that had somehow crept up on us. The thing was something straight out of your worst nightmare. Though it was hunchbacked. It was gargantuan, standing at a high of at least seven feet. It had rocky armored gray skin with two withered arms, one very short and the other very long. Its frail chest looked like it would cave in at any given moment from the long, pained breaths it was taking. It was a wonder that its legs bent inwards at the knees could support its weight. It had a large head and a series of jagged horns jutting out atop it. It's mouth was twisted, and it had no nose. Its eyes, however, were yellow and cat-like. It was surveying Doris and I like we were mice. Derwin? What the hell is that thing? Forgotten, I replied.

The thing took a step closer. My sister and I took one back. It breathed in heavily, then, to our surprise, began to speak. So at last it's happened. The twins have come to save their mother. How do you know who we are? I asked. And what have you done with my mother? You both look so much like her.

I know. Because she is my daughter. Has Ward chosen not to come. come and face his demons. You're lying, I said. This didn't make sense. How the hell could that thing have been our grandfather? Whether you believe me or not is up to you.

I was Greg Woodson once. But he is gone now. Now I am only forgotten. Another voice said. My sister and I spun around. Another one of the creatures had lumbered up, its head severely tilted to one side. We only wish to be remembered. Another said.

I couldn't believe it. They were all over the place, dozens and dozens of them, each clearly, in pain. Why? Why did you come here? A voice said. This voice, though it was altered, was so familiar. Doris and I looked at the being standing nearest to us. Her eyes hadn't yet turned yellow like the others.

No. Her eyes still looked like ours. Mom? Doris said. Mom, what have they done to you? It's what happens to us. all of us once we're trapped in here. My mom said.

The only reason they can't touch the two of you is because your twins, the first ones in our line, your blood together, the two of you holding hands, is a bond stronger than the curse of our family. There were even more of the things now, but I kept my eyes on my mother. Mom, this doesn't make sense. If George Woodson... It isn't just our family, my son. Others have found this place by accident. The Bermuda Triangle.

The Malaysia Airlines Incident. This is where they end up. We don't eat. We don't sleep. We are simply forgotten." Doris was sobbing now. I shook my head, then pointed the gun at the thing that had once been my mother. I can't leave you like this, Mom.

I can free you. If you spill my blood, they'll be able to touch you, and then you'll be forgotten. We'll take your place, Mom. Doris sobbed, and she was right. If we weren't fast enough at offing ourselves, then we would rather be here suffering than leaving our mother behind. Do it, said our grandfather. His twisted mouth was smiling now. Do it.

We all belong together. We're all family. Join us, Derwin. Exist forever, Doris. This is what was meant to be. I love you, Mom, I said. And then I pulled the trigger. As my mother's body fell, there was another gunshot.

And I heard Ward, Go, both of you, run. We didn't have to be told twice. All three of us ran firing shots behind us at the quickly approaching, forgotten. The door, still open, was just ahead, but there was no way all three of us would fit at once. The forgotten were right behind us. They were either going to catch us or get into our realm. And then Ward stopped running. He looked over at us and said, Whatever you do, remember, always knock. And then the forgotten grabbed.

him, and my sister and I ran into the doorway. I slammed it closed just as two of the things were leaping at us. I knocked faster than ever before in my life, and then there was silence. I wish I could say that there was more to this story. I wish I could say that I was a hero who managed to end the family curse. I wish I could say that I'd found my mother alive and well in human form. And I'd been able to bring her back. I wish that Ward was with us, not forever trapped in the forgotten realm.

But I can't. I suppose that as long as there are Woodson's, there will always be something on the other side of the door. The rest of the world has forgotten about them. But we never will. And we will always not. Fuck.