Lighthouse Horror Podcast - The Skullcut Man | Scary Stories

Episode Date: July 10, 2024

Have you ever heard of The Skullcut Man? There's one thing you must do if he comes for you. Story from GreyBuildings679 Make sure to check out more of their work at u/GreyBuildings679   Cover Art from Stu Harrington Original Post: The Skullcut Man- part 1 : r/nosleep            Original YouTube link: The Skullcut Man   Merch: lighthousehorror.shop For more stories like this one, check out my YouTube channel: Lighthouse Horror | YouTube  Patreon: Lighthouse Horror | Patreon Sound Effects: Freesound Zapsplat Music: Lucas King - YouTube Myuu - YouTube  Incompetech  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!

We grew up on the stories of the skull cut man, and in a way it transformed all of us in our small town, like how a family will pass on a certain feature, a beakish nose or a brightly colored eye. The skull cut man was our collective inheritance. It lingered in our biology, like some sort of malignant DNA, defining who we were as a people and who we were to become. Stories can do that. The most haunting tale of the skull-cut man and the one closest to me involved my dad's sisters, Aunt Paula, and Aunt Cece, the latter who I would never meet. They were on their way home from school one chilly winter afternoon.

It was that time of year when the skies darken around four, and it's a rare but fine day to read in the paper that the temperature would rise above zero degrees. Snow was coming down so heavy that if you were to stretch your own. arms out, your hands would disappear in front of you, as if they were just swallowed up. Aunt Cece was wearing a new red petticoat, a gift she had received that Christmas. It had fur around the collar and shiny black buttons that ran down the center. She was up ahead. Maybe by just two paces from my Aunt Paula, who was struggling to lift her boots in the snow.

Even in the blizzard, Paula would say she could see that red coat in front of her as C.C. went around a corner, which would later be named Skull Cut Bend. Paula came right up behind her, maybe by just a few moments delay, but when she turned, her sister was gone. She screamed till her throat burned from the cold wind, frantically looking for Cici, but her sister was nowhere to be found. A search party would later be dispatched, scouring the road and hillside, going down the ravine and even looking as far as the next town over. They concluded that Cece was missing. Her body never discovered. I tell this to my wife Rosie, who rolls her eyes turning to our one-year-old daughter in the back seat,

the apple of my eye, Jeannie makes a gurgling sound, expelling a waterfall of regurgitated breast milk. Thanks, baby. Rosie says, cleaning up the mess. We almost there. yet. My eyes go towards the digital clock on our old beat-up Volvo. Should be arriving just in time for dinner. Rosie gives me an encouraging smile and I wonder what carmic deeds I must have done in a past life for an asshole like me to deserve someone like her. We've been together close to 10 years and she has what I like to describe as a secret heart, seldom revealing what is at the core of her, not even to me. I can only guess how she was. really feels about the move. It was my idea, the move, the salesman in me. I presented it like

a gift with a big gold bow on top telling Rosie I wanted to go back to my home in Belford, Vermont. That's always been a dream of mine for Jeannie to grow up in nature and get to know her grandma. Besides, Mom was getting on in years with my dad gone and managing the estate on her own was starting to take its toll. It would be a service to help her, a true act of charity. What I didn't share with Rosie is that we didn't have a choice. I'd gotten fired from my last job at the Mercedes dealership and our extravagant Boston rent was eating away at our pathetic savings. I had on the off chance reached out to an old buddy of mine from high school, Hank Willicks, who owned a dealership in Belford. He'd offered me a job on the spot. I saved him.

us and my dignity just by the skin of my teeth. We pulled up to my childhood home, a lofty and handsome brick farmhouse that sits proudly on over 180 acres. I notice a hammock, a new addition, tied between two ancient maples. My mom pops her head out from it. She's wearing a straw hat. In her hand is a book, something by Daniel Steele. My babies!

She shrieks, running up to scoop Jeannie. from Rosie's arms before throwing her arms around me. Welcome home, Jerry. She plucks a sloppy kiss on my right cheek before letting me go. Go on, get settled. I'll get working on dinner. As we enter, I begin to notice small signs of neglect. The white and red wallpaper has begun to peel the floorboards creak under our weight.

Spider webs have collected in the corners underneath them a graveyard of fly corpses. My room has been in the same condition since I left for college. Poster of Blink 182 line the walls and Rosie gives them an appreciating glance. Travis was always my favorite, she says, putting down the diaper bag and cleaning up Jeannie on my old green flannel sheets. Mom has made mashed potatoes and roast chicken for dinner. We sit down and I eat ravenously. Rosie laughs when I finally come up for air.

Sorry, I burp, looking to my mom. She's lost a considerable amount of weight since we've last seen her, and her features are now far too large for her tiny face. She's all lips and buggy eyes. How's Lindsay doing? I said, asking about my older sister. Oh, exciting news. Tanner's pregnant. Her tone is biting.

Babies having babies, just like their mother. Tanner is your niece, right? Isn't she just like what? 17? Rosie asked. 16. I correct her. I haven't spoken to Tanner or Lindsay in forever.

Last I heard they were moving from L.A. to Seattle. Well, that's your sister for you. Mom said, giving a rigid smile. Change of topic. I was thinking about it and since you guys are going to be here, what would you think about cleaning out grandpa's old? cabin. It will take some elbow grease, but it will give you guys some more room. It's not a bad idea, I said, mauling it over.

Grandpa had built the cabin about a half mile from the main house towards the woods. I'd only been there a few times, but I remembered it having a small kitchenette and two bedrooms. Well, it's something to think about, mom says, draining her glass. We continued eating, and I downed several beers while Rosie left to put the baby down. When she returned, she had with her a large glass of wine. She looked worn down, deep purple circles adorned under her eyes like slabs of raw meat. So, Jerry was regaling me with tales of the skull-cut man on the drive up, Rosie said, turning towards my mom. There was a visible change in my mom's demeanor as her lips pulled inwards, and her jaw clenched,

You told her about Caleb Moore, did you?" I shook my head. Just Aunt Cece. Oh, who's Caleb Moore? Rosie said, her cheeks reddening like two blossoming roses. Mom let out a weary sigh. I used to have a good friend from school, Sylvia Moore. She actually stayed with your father and I for a bit, out in Grandpa's cabin, when her marriage

began to sour. This was years ago, before Lindsay and Jerry were born. Anyway, Sylvia had the sweetest little boy, a real cherub named Caleb. He couldn't have been any more than four years old when he and his babysitter, Mildred Swedes, went hiking one day. Someone would later say they saw them walking out toward Skull Cut Bend. I'll never forget that call. I was making dinner for your father, and the phone started ringing. It was Sylvia totally hysterical. Mildred and Caleb never came home. Mildred was an experienced hiker. She used to lead excursions with tourists in the summer, so she knew her way around the area. For a while, they thought maybe she kidnapped Caleb. But then they found that poor girl's body down in the

ravine. My brother used to work as a volunteer firefighter and told me that every bone in her body was broken and contorted. She had deep lesions along her forehead, penetrating her skull. Thus the name skull-cut man was born, I said, sipping my beer. Did they ever find the kid, Caleb? Rosie asked, hanging on to my mom's every word. Mom shook her head. They never I never found him. Gone without a trace. Poor Sylvia took her life not long afterwards. The town wasn't sure what to make of it. To this day, I won't go out towards Skull Cut Bend, even though it's the easiest route to walk to town. They say that sometimes, if you go to Skull Cut Bend, you can see the Skull Cut

Man, lurking by the side of the road, I said, locking eyes with Rosie. He'll just sit there, just waiting and looking for just one more skull to crack. I bring up my hands, pausing, before lunging towards her. Rosie lets out a small gasp, spilling her wine under the table. Cheese and crackers, Jerry, she said, bringing her hand to her heart. In bed that night, Rosie turned towards me. You don't actually believe that stuff about the skull. A skull-cut man. Do you?

I shake my head. Nah, it's just some silly shit they tell kids around here to scare them and to not wandering off. My dad believed it though. After what happened to his sister, I don't blame him. He wouldn't ever let us go out by Skull Cut Bend, told us if he ever caught us there, he would whoop us so bad we wouldn't be able to sit for a week. What's out there? At the bend.

It's just a bend in a trail near a small. some rocks, nothing more. So what do you think happened to your aunt and that kid and his babysitter, Rosie says, looking at me with her deep brown eyes? I don't know. It was probably some sick son of a bitch that saw an opportunity and took it. There's still some apprehension etched on Rosie's face, but she seems to accept my explanation and gives a nod.

You better get some sleep, big day tomorrow, with a new job. I wake up the next morning to the smell of bacon wafting throughout the house. I shower and put on one of my best suits. I bought it when I could afford tailored clothes and fits like a second skin. When I come downstairs, Mom has set the table with what she likes to call a farmer's breakfast, bacon, pancakes, toast, eggs, and strong black coffee. She's there with Jeannie and Rosie already. Wow, very dapper, Mom said, grinning.

Come on, better eat up. I went to the dealership afterwards, full from the gut-busting breakfast, and found Hank waiting for me. Though Hank has added a good 40 pounds onto his once-trim frame, he's still handsome as ever. His golden hair swept up and apart on the side of his head. Good to see you, Jerry. Good to see you. He shakes my hand rigorously. Hank shows me around his dealership, walking me through the procedures and paperwork.

It's similar to that of my last dealership. I catch on quickly. I'm shown to my office, which Hank considers prime location facing outwards to the showroom floor behind a clear glass door. I'm expecting big things from you, Jerry, Hank said, as he sat down on the corner of my desk. Closers get the big bucks here. Someone walks by, diverting his attention, a gangly fellow with an ill-fitting shirt, slightly hunched over. You remember that creep from school, Hank said in a whisper.

Jamie Colcott. I let out a low whistle. Yeah, the years have not been kind, huh? Does he work here? Jamie had been in the same grade as Hank and I, but was always a loner in our school. keeping to himself. His family were considered white trash, by definition, living in the Belford trailer park just on the outskirts of town. Hank smirked. He's been working as a junior associate for the last seven years, told him he needs to make a monumental sale to get promoted. I'm still

waiting. It was an uneventful first day. A few people trickled in and out. I went with one couple on a test drive, but they needed some more time to think about it. Hank was sympathetic. You're just getting started, Jerry. Don't worry. When I got home, I found Rosie and Jeannie in the hammock peacefully sleeping. Not wanting to disturb them, I went out towards Grandpa's old cabin. The construction of the building was sound, made by someone skilled in woodworking, with thick trucks interlocking at the sides. Walking inside, I hesitated for a moment. Unsure if it would be worthwhile to salvage this place. Thick gossamer-like webs shroud over every surface, the floors are covered in a black, sticky

gunk, and there's a rancid smell that permeates the space. I spend the next few hours cleaning, watching his homeless spiders scurry away. On a faded couch there is a cardboard box labeled Grandpa Henry's Things. Curious. I pry open the lid to find piles of papers, yellowed with age, curled at the edges. Something catches my eye, and I dig deep, retrieving a notebook. On the back is the image that drew my attention. It looks like the figure of a man filled in completely with black marker, except for two slots in the face that look like eyes. The arms hang down past the legs. Its fingers stretching downwards, serrated like jagged knives, looking at it makes me shudder.

I opened the book and began reading, the first entry marked as July 8, 1931. I am a sly thing. Jeremiah, whose parcel lies next to mine, brought up selling his land to Marcy Colbrook, who passed this information promptly onto me. I go over to Jeremiah's the next day, knocking twice on the door. He answers, and what do I say? Jeremiah, how glad I am that I found you? We were getting our land inspected and found that our property lies on the fault lines.

I go on and on, putting on quite a performance, if I do say so myself, woe is me. The land is spoiled. We'll go next to nothing. But I'm going to try to sell it quickly and as cheaply as I can. Well, what does that grease ball do? He lists his property for two thousand less than half of what it's worth the next day. And what do I do? I get my brother-in-law, Lucas, to buy it up, and then I buy it from him, that stupid scally wag, Jeremiah. Jerry, you in there?

Rosie's voice comes from the door. Dinner is ready. Your mom told me to get you. Be right there. I yell out. I tell you. I tell you. I tell you. I tell you. I take you. I take you. I Take one last look at the strange creature on the back and slip Grandpa Henry's diary back into the box. As I walk out of Grandpa's cabin, I feel a warm breeze brush against my face. I take a look around, thinking it might be rosy, but I'm on my own, and the hair on my neck stands up as goose bumps run down my arms. I'm walking towards the main house.

When I turn around, there on the side of the cabin in the shadows is something moving. The black moves outwards, expanding like fingers. I rub my eyes, looking again. The shadows look normal now. I must have just been imagining it. I tell myself, quickening my pace. In bed that night, with Rosie and Jeannie sleeping beside me, I find my brain awake, unrelenting to sleep. There's a storm coming in, some type of hurricane that has hit the coast, with

North Carolina and Florida getting the brunt of it. Still, even in Vermont, the ramifications can be felt. I can hear the wind hollowing, the raindrops splattering against the house. I slide out of bed and head to the bathroom. As I walk back to bed, I stopped to look out the window. The trees are swaying back and forth and the violent wind, and I'm positive that tomorrow morning will find at least a few branches on the ground, if not a whole tree. My eyes go to the hammock between the mighty trees, and notice that it remains still and unmoving. I hold my breath, as I examine the outline. There's weight in it. Somebody's there. Four long and in here. human black fingers appear one after the other, unfurling one at a time, dangling over the side.

I feel a scream pushing up against my throat as sweat begins dripping down my temples. Then the power goes out, and I am left in blackness. The backup generator kicked on, and as light flooded the house, I was left standing, paralyzed, looking out the window. The hammock was now whipping about in the wind, whatever I had seen inside it, now gone. I let out a trembling exhale before going back to bed. The next week passed by without incident. Work was becoming increasingly stressful. I still had yet to make a sale at the dealership and could tell Hank's patience was starting to wear thin. I relished my time with Jeannie and Rosie, who seemed both to talk to.

their new lives in Belford. One morning, Rosie asked if she could take the car for the day to bring Jeannie to the beach, and I reluctantly agreed. She could give me a ride into work, but I'd have to walk home, a trek that would take around 30 minutes. That afternoon, when I was coming back, I came upon a fork in the road and knew I would have to make the choice to go along skull-cut bend or take the longer route, which would add another 20 minutes. Opting for the shorter way, I hiked uphill, my calves burning, as I could

see the infamous bend in the distance. As I came closer, I had to squint my eyes. There was something on rocks up ahead. It was a red coat, flattened against the rocks. My heart dropped into my stomach, my mind going back to the story of my Aunt Cece wearing the red pettico. when she disappeared. The crimson fabric was blowing, rippling in the wind as if beckoning me over. It was perched on top of the rock face, and I had to climb up three or four stones to get to the top, propelling myself upwards. I was eye-level with the jacket and holding on with one hand. I extended the other, touching the clothing as if to make sure it was real. As I did this, something called caught my eye. Four long, black, jagged fingers, the same ones I'd seen in the hammock came

over the edge and caressed my knuckles. In a sense of panic, I let out a scream, falling backwards, my head hitting the ground, and then it all went black. When I awoke, my eyes fluttered open. It took me a moment to orient myself. The sky had darkened now, little pin-porned. points of stars sparkling in the sky. I sat up, looking again towards the rock. The jacket was gone. Struggling to stand, my head pounding, I got up and continued walking. I set my mind to rationalizing what I was seeing.

Could it be the skull cut man? No, I shook my head. I was imagining this. I had to be. Emerging from the woods, I could see my house. All the lights were turned on, and a wave of relief flushed over me. I was almost home. Making my way to the front porch, I kicked off my boots and opened the front door to be greeted

by the delicious smells of dinner, fresh from the oven. My mouth began to water. I entered the kitchen and could see my mom, Rosie and Jeannie sitting at the table, their heads turned all smiles as I walked in. I was about to say something. But then I saw it, standing in the corner, the same black mass like a shadow with two half-circles for eyes, the fingers stretched out and reaching. I bellowed out a scream, grabbing a chair and running towards it, howling in fury and fear. Get out!

My mom and Rosie began to scream as well, but I soon realized it wasn't at the figure I was seeing, but at me. Jerry, what's going on? Are you okay? Rosie said repeatedly as she tried to soothe me. The thing was gone, and I sat down, putting my head in my hands. I think I'm going crazy, I said, feeling my body shake uncontrollably. I told my mom and Rosie about what I'd seen, starting with the hammock, and then it's skull cut bend.

I feel like something's stalking me. I think it's the skull cut man. You're just tired, Jerry. We're all tired, and we've been talking about this skull cut thing too much. It doesn't exist, Rosie said, stroking my head. Jeannie started crying and she plucked up the baby from the high chair. I need to put her down, but I'll be right back. My mom watched her go before sitting down beside me.

I never told you this before, on account of I didn't think it was real, but your father thought that the skull-cut man was following him too at one point. What? I said, turning towards her. She bobs her head up and down. It happened a little bit before that little boy Caleb disappeared. He could see some black shadow sneaking around. I thought it might be early dementia or one of those mental diseases.

But it passed. One day, it just disappeared. So don't keep worrying about it, Jerry. Just mind your business and don't go linger and buy skull-cut bend. You understand? It's a bad place, I tell you. It worked the next day. Hank pulls me aside. Hey, Jerry, I got to head out for a few hours. It's usually pretty slow this time of day. But you're in charge till I get back. Sure thing, boss man, I said. patting him on the shoulder. It's just Jamie Colcutt and me in the dealership. He hasn't said much to me since I started. Besides the usual small talk, he's been placed firmly at the bottom of

the hierarchy here by Hank, who takes every opportunity he can to further demoralize. Jamie gives me a smile, and I wave back. Four gentlemen enter the building, and Jamie looks at me. Go for it, I say with a smile, and he jumps up. appearing to introduce himself. I watch from the corner of my eye as Jamie takes the men on a test drive explaining all the features of the vehicles, a big grin plastered on his face as he does so. Two hours later, he approaches my desk, giddy with excitement. Jerry, you'll never guess what. He continues talking before I have a chance to answer. They want to buy four Santa Fees, Right now, say they got a job to do and need four vehicles, one for each person.

They're willing to pay full price up front. I feel a creeping sensation of envy, fill the pit of my stomach. Well, that's great, Jamie. Really great. Good job. Hank is going to have to promote me now, Jamie says, his eyes lighting up. I can't approve the sale as I'm just a jewell. Junior Associate, would you be able to put it through for me?" I hesitate for a moment, regaining my composure. Sure, Jamie, bring them to my office and I'll settle them up.

Thanks, Cherry. Jamie says that same goofy smile on his face, he sprints over to the four men leading them towards me. I shake their hands leading them inside. We go over the paperwork together, and I move quickly through the clothes. closing, handing over the title transfers and four sets of keys as they take the cars directly off the lot. I can't wait for Hank to get back.

He's not going to believe this. Jamie says, almost vibrating with joy. He heads back to his desk, which is not in prime location still facing the showroom, but tucked in back. Towards the end of the day, I see Hank's car pull into the lot, and turning to Jamie, he He wiggles his eyebrows in anticipation. I look towards my computer. Hank saunteres inside and moves to his desk, gathering the paperwork I had put there a few

hours earlier for the sale of four brand spanking new cars. He picks it up, reviewing the documents before exiting his office. I can see, Jamie, his ass slightly risen from his seat, waiting for Hank to come over, for that inevitable handshake. Hank turns coming towards my office and I avoid eye contact with Jamie as Hank stretches out his hand. You son of a bitch, four new Santa Fe models. Hell yeah, Jerry.

Well done. Thank you, I say, cupping his hand. I appreciate your faith in me. One hell of a commission check coming your way too, boy. Come on, let's go grab a beer across the street. Hank takes my bag as we walk out. Beer is four closers. He yells towards Jamie.

I glance at Jamie before we leave. He looks like a kicked puppy. I put his sale in my name. There's no way to dispute it. It's ironclad. I try to justify it to myself as Hank buys me round after round. I have a family to take care of. I have a wife and a kid.

More on the line, more to prove. I need it more. I deserve it more. Three beers deep as I drive home. I almost believe it myself. I wake up the next day to a splitting headache and find a note from Rosie on the counter that she's gone for a walk with Jeannie. I don't have to go to work and make my way back to Grandpa's cabin. I spend the better part of the morning scrubbing the floors and cleaning out the closets which are full of moldy clothes. I take a break sitting on the couch and once again find myself looking at the box of Grandpa Henry's things. It then hits me. The image I saw on the diary, could it be the same apparition I've been seeing? I dig out the notebook,

rummaging through the entries, mostly ramblings from Grandpa Henry about this neighbor or that person in town. He writes about Jeremiah, his old neighbor, his old neighbor, heckling him for tricking him about the land. Then I read something that makes my blood run cold. I feel something following me, some shadow that I find in strange places. I wake up with it sitting at the foot of my bed or following me around the farm. It moves quickly, so much so than when I try to draw its image, it vanishes. I have done my best. on the back of this book. I turn it over, again looking at the drawing and gulp. I read on. Today I was walking towards town and coming towards me in the bend I could see Jeremiah

Colcutt. I knew he was still cross about his land, but he called me over. Jeremiah looks at me and says what I did is wrong that I must do right by him. I laugh in his face, but he continues looking firmly at me. Until you do right by me, I curse your blood, and for every generation you will feel my wrath. I will steal your greatest joy till there is none of your line left. You will feel the curse of the name Jeremiah Colcut. The Colcut Man curses you. As I read this, I feel nauseous and have to sit down. The call-cut man. The skull-cut man.

That's where it came from. I whisper out loud and the door to Grandpa's cabin slams shut, jolting me upright. As night settles in and there's no trace of Rosie or Jeannie, a pit forms in my stomach. I can hear my mom calling the police, but I know that there is no hope. I go outside, pressing forward towards skull-cut bend, my world and tatters. I feel like I can hardly breathe. When I get to the rocks, I slide down to the base. Take me.

I plead, please take me, but not them. I feel tears sliding down my face as I say the words, and I silently begin to cry. I can feel hot air against my neck and my body. tenses up, knowing that the skull-cut man is near. Then I hear it. It's just a few words. I already stole your father's joy. Your generation. Then it's gone. Jeannie was never found, but Rosie's corpse was found a week later in the ravine, just as Mildred's sweets was. I had to identify the body at the morgue. She was almost unrecognizable. My beloved Rosie, her hands and body were bent and broken. Scars ran alongside her head into her skull. Mom tells me I broke down,

hysterical when they showed her to me. I don't remember. Sometimes I think about what if I hadn't screwed over Jamie Colcutt that day? Would the Have been lifted? Could I have saved my baby? It's too painful to even consider. I wonder about what the skull cut man said, how he already stole my generation. Could he mean Caleb more? Is it possible my dad conceived a son with my mother's friend Sylvia?

And if so, was that how Lindsay and I escaped the skull cut man's vengeance? Of none of this. I can be sure. I've come to believe that the Skull Cut man will continue to haunt our family. It took Grandpa's daughter, Cece, and my daughter, my dear Jeannie. It's part of us now, our fates intertwined. Until we do right by the Colcut clan, it will forever be our shadow. That's why I'm reaching out to you now, Tanner.

I've written everything down that I can remember, everything that was told to me. Mom has told me, you're with a child, a new generation for the skull-cut man to steal. On the way to dropping off the letter, I passed by a school yard, a place where I might have sent my genie. There are kids playing in the background, and I could hear them singing. Scall Cut Man, Run if you can. Scall Cut Man splits your head, now you're dead. Skull Cut Man, Black as night, full of spite.

Scall Cut Man eats your soul, Scall Cut Man, because you didn't pay the toll.