Episode 8: The girl at the bookstore
CONTENT WARNING: general unease, distorted voices, unreality
Intro
(Phone) Narrator Two
When I was younger I used to go to the book store with my parents. They would buy me children's books when I did well in school. I remember there used to be a girl that worked there. Obviously a lot of people worked there. But I remembered her because she seemed to always be there. It didn't matter the time of day or day of the week. To be fair though I was a child so I was probably going there at very similar times each time anyway. She wasn't very memorable otherwise. That book store hasn't changed at all since then. Unlike all the other bookstores here. For one thing its still here. A lot of the other books stores had to close or got torn down. The other thing is that almost all the same people still work there. Except for her. I hadn’t been there in a few years so that wasn't too weird. I mean it's a job at a book store. But I asked about her, I was curious. Like she was there my whole childhood and then now she’s not here? I guess i just wanted to, know. I wasn’t going to go look for her or anything. Anyways. The guy i asked had no idea who i was talking about. I was pretty sure they were pretty similar age and i knew they worked shifts together. But no he said he's always been the youngest full time employee here. Odd, but maybe she just wasn't the type of person to leave that much of an impact.
Story One
(Bad Overhead Speaker) Narrator One
She used to read books.
Never a day went by where she wasn't reading a book, a minute where she wasn’t thinking about the books she was reading. She loved books, and that was the only thing to know about her.
She could remember more things about what happened in books she read when she was a kid, then what happened in her real life just last week. Books to her were this wonderful, magical world that she got to watch and participate in with no consequences. If the hero got killed, if the good guys won, if the couple got together, if the killer got caught, if the spaceship made it back on course, it had nothing to do with her. She didn't have to live with the guild or the glory or the horror or the bliss, she just got to watch it, experience it, and then she could let it go.
Her normal life was a series of days and times and only the things she had to do.
Wake up, eat, go to school, do homework, back to sleep. She was labeled a good student, she didn't make friends, she planned to go to university, all she knew of life was what was in books, she would make a career for herself, she had never done anything outside of her comfort zone.
She got a job at the bookstore, a perfect way to make money to pay for school. The discount was a great benefit.
She worked, she went home, she read, she went to sleep.
Woke up, went to work, read less, went to sleep.
Woke up late, ran to work, didn’t read, went to sleep.
Woke up tired, went to work, went to sleep.
Woke up, went to work, too tired to read, went to sleep,
Woke up, went to wo rk, tried to read, fell asleep.
Woke up, went to work, told herself that she would read, went to sleep.
Woke up, went to work, fell asleep, Woke up, went to work, fell asleep, Woke up, went to work, fell asleep, Woke up, went to work, fell asleep, Woke up, went to work, fell asleep, Woke up, went to work, fell asleep.
She hadn’t read a book in weeks. Her thoughts once occupied with plots and worlds and characters now only filled with to do list and when her next day off was. She didn’t go to university. When the time came around to choose what she was going to do, she realized that there wasn't any career that she wanted to pursue.
As she struggled to keep up with her day-to-day tasks, her weekends becoming the only time she can catch up, her to read list only grew. Eventually she stop bothering to write down any titles. Books on her book shelf collated dust.
Woke up.
Days went by.
Went to work.
Weeks went by.
Didn’t read
Fall asleep.
Years went by.
She was walking to work. Her bag bigger than usual. For the past week she had been carrying the boy's hoodie to work and back home. Waiting for him to show up so she could give it back. Ideally she had been trying to figure out who the boy was. While her first thoughts had been a ghost he could have just as easily be a run away. The idea that he had a home and family to go to at the end of the day didn’t enter her mind. It was the way he had asked for her to join him. Like he was excited by the novelty of something as mundane as another human being speaking to him. He must have been alone for a long time. If he wasn’t just messing with her then almost 10 years. How could someone just let 10 years slip by like that? To the point where you're not even aware that the time is passing? If this was a book she would assume some short of time travel. Like that blue light place speed up time. Or he had been frozen in time in some way. Or maybe he doesn't have to eat or sleep so he doesn't have any markers of time passing. Maybe hes stoped aging too. Or the blue place doesn't just bring you to a different place but also a different time.
But this wasn’t a book. Real life would never be as fascinating as a book. But something from a book did happened to her. And not something like a perfect summer romance or an exciting adventure. Something truly in the realm of make believe.
Most people forgot.
She han’t though.
What if real life could be like all those books? What if she could truly live them? What if it could be real. She remembered she was on her way to work and let out a long sigh. What if? Maybe for someone else, maybe.
A flickering on the ground. Solid, blue. She looked up to the streetlight and the old women statue that sat under it.
“Sorry I ran out on you last time. I realized that I had a very time sensitive project going on and I had to go check on it.” The boy said. He was sitting cross legged on the bench. The blue light from the streetlight was a lot more visible then a streetlight should be during the day. The girl replied by taking off her backpack and taking the boy's hoodie out of it, pacing it to him. The boy glanced at the few people around them as he took it, like the two of them were doing something much more suspicious then returning a borrowed hoodie. He put it on without saying thank you. She didn’t say bye as she started making her way to the front door of her wo rk.
“Hey wait! You have time right?”
The boy had almost gotten up from his seat. She sighed quietly and sat on the bench across from him. She looked at her phone hoping she was much later than she thought.
Ten minutes until she had to clock in.
“So have you thought about what I said?” The boy asked.
What he had said? That the blue light was dangerous? That most people forgot? Or about-
“About joining me.” He smiled.
“Joining you.” She hadn't really thought about it at all. Just the fact that he had asked. “No.” She said finally. “I don’t think I want to.”
The boy's face fell and he quickly glanced at the old woman statue beside him.
He nodded towards the book store.
"Aren't you miserable here?” Concern twinged in his voice.
Nine minutes until clock in.
“What do you mean? I love books.” The girl replied.
The boy looked around not making eye contact with her.
“Well, I mean, the other day you were saying that you didn’t have much time for anything so i thought.” He trailed off. He set his eyes on the window. The one that looked directly at the old women statue.
“I’m not miserable.” She said to fill the silence. She had a job, food, a nice place to call home. She couldn't be miserable.
“Are you happy though?” The boy was looking her in the eye now.
Eight minutes until clock in.
“Are you a ghost?” The girl said. The boys eyes went wide. Then his face cracked into a grin, then he let out a laugh, long and loud. The girl looked to the people walking pass, they didn't even glance over.
“A ghost? No I’m not a ghost.” His smile didn’t leave his face. “I didn’t take you as someone that believed in ghost.”
“I didn’t”
“Didn’t?”
Seven minutes until clock in.
“Well its not real is it? Magic and monsters and stuff like that. It’s just for stories." She said.
“But you thought I was a ghost.”
“Well compared to getting teleported by a streetlight to a weird black and white dimension, thinking ghost might be real seemed boring.”
A few of the people around them eyes flickered to her as they started to walk a little faster away.
“Why a ghost though?” The boy asked, eyebrows pinched together.
The girl was a little taken aback by how confused he seemed.
“The disappearing and reappearing, um.” She hesitated. She didn't want to tell him that she had been looking for information on him and that she had found nothing. “How surprise you were about the year.” She finally said.
The boy looked to the ground.
“Huh.” He said “I see the logic there.” He looked back at her, smile returning to his face. “I’m not, by the way.”
Six minutes until clock in.
“But it was a good theory.” he continued “You experience something you didn't understand and try to figure it out. That's all this would be, I’m just trying to understand the inverse place. I think you would be great at it.” His eyes darted to the old woman statue again.
“I really don’t think I would.” This was real life. Not a book. There were real consequences here.
“I think you would, if you're scared I would get it. That's good even. But it's worth it. It's like an adventure.”
This was real life. She had work.
Five minutes until clock in.
“Why can’t I find you anywhere?” She didn't mean to ask.
Most people forgot.
“What do you mean? I’m right here.”
She got up from the bench.
“I’m going to be late for work.” She said.
“Okay.” The boy said, leaning back on the bench. “Just think about it. I’ll be around.”
She walked to the front door. She heard the low buzz she knew came from his radio. She felt, rather than saw the blue light turn off.
This was real life.
Interruption one
*Recorder On*
*Pen tapping on desk*
Noah
Meri
Meri
Um?
Noah
The tapping
Meri
Huh? Oh! Sorry. I’m just so confused.
Noah
About what?
Meri
Well, according to the police, there as only ever been two missing person cases in this town. Arlo Thorn, and a child in the late 1800s. Now that's a little odd, but not the weirdest thing. What is weird is that it's not true.
Noah
How so?
Meri
Well if you actually look at newspapers, or police reports and even some post online there have been other missing people. Lots even. Enough that I'm surprised that there isn’t like an urban myth about it or something. Like “the town where you go to disappear” or something.
*giggle, pause*
Sorry, serious.
*pause to compost self*
Anyway there's tons of missing people, but after they're reported or someone mentions it, it's like everyone just forgets.
Noah
Forgets? What do you mean forget? As in the police drop the cases?
Meri
Kinda? But more like they have a case made, then it gets dismissed. Probably as a prank by some of the notes on these. Most say there's no record of the person ever exciting, others say that the report was invalid, or they do a follow up and the person that reported it has no memory of the person or making the report.
Noah
*pause* So the techs were right
Meri
looks like it.
Noah
Well at least were not wasting our time
Meri
And! It's something new! How exciting
*recorder off*
Story Two
(Bad Overhead Speaker) Narrator One
It was already dark outside when she got off work. All the streetlights up and down the road on, dim and thankfully orange. She made her way down the sidewalk trying to stay out of their light as much as possible. She used to walk this way all the time. She would walk into town grab and hot chocolate, then a coffee when she got older and made her way to the library. If it was nice outside she would quickly get her books and sit on the grass. If not she would browse for a little longer and take as many books as she could carry home.
It had been a long time since she had been this way. But as many things in this town not much had changed. Maybe there was a new house or two. Or the trees had grown a little thicker. Or the buildings were painted a different colour.
But the sidewalk had all the same crakes. All the picnic tables were in the same place.
And the library still felt like coming home.
Like sitting by a fire after playing in the snow. Like a homemade meal. Like finally being able to sit down.
She took a deep breath in, then out. She had to force herself to keep walking through the doorway as tears prick at her eyes. She instinctively started walking towards the kid section. Like at the bookstore the library had adapted to the expanding ‘young adult’ novel market. No longer was there just a kid and teen section. Now there were whole series of fantasy, romance, science fiction and even the newly popular genres of apocalypse and dystopias. The later ones almost dominate the entries section. Zombies, nukes, all consuming war, worlds where you had to fight in tournaments, worlds where everyone is divided, worlds where human experimentation was common. She hoped it wasn't an omen for things to come.
She could just borrow a few of these and go home. Maybe something small. Something simple. Get herself back into reading, escape her life once again and never think about a boy under blue light.
But she had tried to forget too many times now to believe that this time it would work. She made her way to the front desk and the librarian sitting there. With a little start, she realized that this was the same librarian that was working here the last time she had checked out a book. The same one that had been working here the first time she ever walked through these doors. She wore a pin on her right ladle. ‘Commerderading 30 years of service.’ 30 years. Why had the librarian started working here? Was it the job she had always wanted, working here a dream come true? Or had it been a summer job that had turned into her life long career. Was she happy here? Did she dread waking up in the morning and having to go to work? Had she wished she had done something else?
“Anything I can help you with dear?” the librarian asked, interrupting the girl's thoughts.
“Oh, um, yes, I was looking for where the newspapers were?” The librarian pointed to the entrance of the library.
“Theres a stack of them by the front door, but if you want more than one they cost 50 cents each.”
The girl glanced over, quickly realizing the librarian was referring to today's newspaper.
“Oh, I mean old newspapers. At least ten years old if that’s possible.” the girl said.
The librarian sat up straighter in her chair.
“We do, but we do usually like to schedule appointments for the physical copies. We have most of the news articles scanned on our local computers. Is there something specific you were looking for in them?”
The girl's first impulse was to lie. To say she was doing a project on old local ads or newspapers comics. She just wanted access to the original copies. But that was ridiculous, if the boy had ever been in the newspaper, an award he had won, or an event he had been at, or if he was a missing person then it would be in a news article. She didn't need the physical copy. And there was no reason for her to lie. However she was going to have to bend the truth a little.
“I found a photo of a boy in a book I bought from the old book store. There was a little letter written on the inside of the front cover too. And I’m, well, I'm trying to see if I can find more information about him.” She paused. How was she going to explain to this liababin that she thought this boy was a missing person?
“Oh that’s neat, if the boy is not too old they might still live in town. But you did say last ten years, so you seem to have some sort of time line?”
“Yeah, the letter mentioned 1998. But, um.” she decided to just say the truth once again. “I think he may be missing.”
The librarian frowned.
“Why do you think that?”
Then bend the truth once again.
“The letter in the book implied that it was never given to the boy. That it was meant to be given to him but he was no longer around. But I don't think he died or anything!” She quickly added. There was a long silence. The girl realized that the libabrin was waiting for her to explain.
“Just a feeling.” She finished lamely.
“Well in that case honey, I’m sorry. He either isn’t from around here or the reason that book was never given to him was because he moved away. Or.” Her voice became softer. “Perapsh he had passed away.”
“Oh” she said. “Could you explain?”
“Of course dear, well there just hasn’t been any missing person case in town since the late 1800’s. Odd I know, but true.”
“What?” The girl said a little too loudly. “Sorry, sorry.” She said in a whisper. “I mean what do you mean?”
“You're alright, sweetie. I mean exactly what I said, there has only been one missing person case in town. And it happened quite a while ago. Even if the photo and letter were related, the person wouldn’t still be alive I fear.”
No missing persons? Was that even possible? It is a small town, but one? It seemed improbable. The girl tilted her head.
“Why do you know that?” Why would a librarian know something so obscure off the top of her head? It was the type of thing that you didn't just stubble a pawn. It was only something you knew if you had done the research yourself, or more likely, someone else had asked before.
30 years of service.
“Oh!” The librarian pursed her lips in thought. “I’m not sure.” she said slowly. “Someone must have told me before or been looking into something slimier. Must have been quite a while ago too. It’s such an odd request. I feel as if I would remember the face of someone that would ask that.”
The librarian locked eyes with the girl, as if remembering she was there.
“Odd as in rare, I mean. I’m not trying to imply you were odd.”
30 years.
“Did a boy in a lap coat use to come here? Or a blue hoodie? carrying a radio?” She paused, then added “or was maybe looking into radio stuff?” It was a guess.
The librarian seemed to give it serious thought. Although the girl figured it was more for her benefit then the librarian actually needed to think about it.
“Unfortunantly, no, dear. And if someone came in in a lab coat I do believe the other libabrins would have told me.”
She should just go, the girl thought, what she wanted to find wasn’t here.
“How about books on radios?” She found herself asking. The librarian looked at her with concern but quickly went back to being professional.
“Of course!” She turned to her computer and typed something. “We have a few, although ‘radio’ is a pretty broad term and is across a few different sections.” The librarian pressed a button and a little slip of paper printed out in front of her.
“Radio communication is 384. Performing arts is 791. And radio waves is 537.” The librarian pointed towards the halls behind and to the left of her. “You’ll find the sections back there” she handed her the slip of paper, it had all the different sections names and numbers on it. “Have a nice day.”
“You too.”
The girl didn’t really know what she was hoping to find at this point. Learning about radio waves might help her understand the boy a little better. However what it felt like was that she was doing exactly what he wanted. Doing research, asking questions, being a scientist. No matter how juvenile his idea of that word seemed to be. She pulled the least textbook like books off the shelf and brought them over to one of the study tables.
She started with reading the back of each one. Then the intros. Then looked at the chapter list. Invention of the radio. Radio signals. How radio signals are captured. What humans use them for. Their role in everyday life. In war. In outer space.
It was all, so very boring.
She was pretty sure all the information that was in these books could be found online. And would be more accurate too. Some of these books were older than she was and they-
1998.
She looked at the dates of the books she had with her. Then went back to the shelf and looked at all the dates there too. Then she looked at the dates they were first checked out. She brought back every book that had been in the library before 1998. She tried to think of anything the boy might have said that could be a clue. A clue to what she wasn't sure.
Something about radios.
Something about light.
Something about static.
Something about.
Atoms.
‘As of now the human race does not have the means to take a picture of an atom. However we have theorized that its structure is-”
Her eyes had caught on a line from one of the older books. The oldest book in the pile when she looked back at the date. Old enough that she was shocked it was still in the library, or at least still on the self. That, and that most, if not all, the information in the book was wrong. And not just wrong by modern standards, just wrong. The author's understanding on radio and light and, well, everything was just wrong. It was like reading someone in a science fiction movie trying to explain light speed travel. It sounded real and believable, but when you actually listened to what was being said you knew that none of that was possible.
The boy had said something similar, that it was impossible to take a picture of an atom. Was this where he had gotten it from? Does that mean he had come to the library? Why didn't the librarian remember him? Why would he quote something from this book? Especially when it had been so random. So off-topic.
She looked to the back of the book. There was a picture of a man, he was credited with writing this book and also quite a few science fiction novels. None that she had heard of.
She looked at her phone for the first time since she had walked into the library. She nearly dropped her phone.
Three hours.
She had been there for three hours.
She typed down the name of the man and the names of the books he wrote. She left all the books she had taken out on the table, quickly leaving the library.
She was going to be so tired at work tomorrow.
Interruption Two
Blue Jay Walker "Everybody Thinks They're The One To Get Away”
‘Cause everybody, everybody,
Oh everybody thinks they're the one to get away,
Everybody, everybody
Yeah everybody thinks they're the one to get away’
Narrator One
Everybody thinks they’re the one to get away
Story Three
(Bad Overhead Speaker) Narrator One
She had to find it.
She had to find it.
She had to find it. *have this part repeat for a while under talking*
That thing, it, it had told her this is where the answers were.
All the looking.
The watching.
it was finally going to give her answers. She was finally going to find answers. All the answers to all her questions.
Everything she wanted to know.
She opened the door to the old book store. The door creaked and shut with a click blocking the sounds of the road outside. She walked right by the person standing behind the register. She ran her hands along the books as she walked further and further into the back of the store. The floor beneath her creaked through the thin carpet. A cat sat at the top of one of the books shelves. It stretched and meowed, jumping to the floor. The girl continued to walk.
She was going to get answers.
The science fiction section. She had been here again
And again
And again
And again *have this part repeat for a while under talking*
She pulled a book at random from the shelf and carefully flipped through the pages. Then slowly put it back.
Then another.
Then another.
Then another.
Soon she didn’t put the books back and let them drop to the floor. Then she was flipping through the pages so fast that she tore most of them from their bindings. Pages flew around her. Books lay scattered on the floor.
Where was it!
That thing said it would be here! The answers. The purpose for all the watching and listening and guessing and
And
And
And *have this part repeat for a while under talking*
She screamed.
If the tearing pages hadn't alerted the person working here that something was wrong then this certainly did. It felt like she was coughing up static. It sounded like her voice was coming through a damaged speaker. She fell to her knees after she had expelled all the air from her lungs, unable to take a breath back in. Her vision narrowed. The scattered papers and books on the ground were the only thing she could see.
And she saw.
The worker ran up the hallway and was trying to speak to her. All she could hear was a low static that rose in pitch.
The Answer.
The light above her flickered off then on, off then on, over and over until it shut off completely.
(Microphone) Narrator One
Everything around them was black and white and invested. The worker that had been right beside them was no longer there. The books and pages were still scattered all over the ground.
There was no blue light surrounding them.
Interruption Three
(Microphone) Narrator One
"What are you"
The young girl said. She was sitting at the bottom of a slide. Her feet firmly planted on the ground.
The child responded with a name.
"No" she said, "that's not what I asked."
The child was confused. The child tried again. A greeting, a name then a question in return. The young girl ignored the question. She looked at the child for a long time.
"You're a human." The child knew that was correct and nodded. The child was also aware that was something that wasn't usually stated. The child asked if she was human. The young girl laughed. Her whole body shook with it.
Her feet stayed firmly on the ground.
The child started walking closer to her. The young girl seemed like she wanted to back away, either climb back up the slide or run around it. All she managed to do was stand up.
The child stopped just short of being able to touch her.
The child saw that the young girl's feet were slightly sunk into the earth in front of the slide. Grass and flowers crawled up her legs and moss blossomed on and in her shoes.
She had been sitting on that slide for a very long time. The child decided this with certainty. The child also figured that she was not human. What she was exactly, the child didn't really think about.
The child asked if the young girl needed help.
The girl giggled "If I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be. It's the only place that I've wanted to be for a while."
The child wasn't sure what to say to that.
Suddenly the world seemed to tittle. The child stumbled to the ground. The young girl remained standing. Her feet stayed firmly to the ground.
"Don’t do that." The young girl said, calmly.
The child didn't know what she meant. The ground started to feel less solid, like walking on a foam mattress, except it just kept slowly sinking.
"No! Stop! Stop!" The girl yelled it like the child was kicking down a sandcastle she had built. Not like the reality of the world around them was breaking.
The child started to panic. Fear and confusion crashing over the child as the world titled and melted and warped. The young girl yelling started to become fainter. The world became fuzzy, little white and grey and black dots bouncing and colliding with each other until it was all the child could see. A buzz came with it harsh and loud.
The last thing the child saw was the young girl taking a step forward.
. . .
It was hard to tell what the sound was at first. High pitch and runmic . The squeak of metal under stress. And a whoosh of something moving through the air. Coming closer then further away then back again.
"Hey, human, are you awake?" The young girl asked. Her voice also sounded as if it was going further and closer again. The child's head spun but managed to stand up. The young girl was swinging on a swing set. Not very high or fast but enough that the grass and moss and dirt were flying off her legs and feet in clumps.
"Good, a human as never died here before"
The child asked what would happen if a human did die here. The girl stopped pumping her legs for a few seconds, not looking at the child. The swing started to slow.
"It has never happened." She finally said, starting to pump her legs again before she fully stopped.
The child started to wonder what would happen to a dead human here that would be different than anywhere else. The earth tilted again. The young girl slammed her heels into the dirt, stopping her swing immediately.
"Don’t do that." She said, the child was less panicked, enough to ask what to stop.
"This is an inbetween place."
The child didn't know what that was but it sounded like something a grown up would know.
The young girl giggled. "Human, I forget how little your kind sees in the world. In a place like this you can have any uncertainty. In your speech or your mind."
The child felt insulted. It was the same feeling when the child got told 'you're not old enough' or 'this isn't a conversation for you' or 'stop asking so many questions'. It was the same here, the child said.
"No, you can ask questions here. You just have to be certain of the question. Asking it out of the pursuit of knowledge." The child liked the sound of 'the pursuit of knowledge'.
"I know you have questions. Feel free to ask them. I'm not going anywhere." She started to swing again.
The child thought hard about a question that was in the pursuit of knowledge, and not because of confusion.
It could only think of the one it asked before.
What is your name?
The swing sets stop
"My name" without the squeaking of the swing set the in-between place was unbearably quiet. The child confirmed by nodding, although the young girl had not asked it like a question.
"Humans put a lot of value on names"
This didn't answer the child's question so it tried to ask the question in another way.
"No, I don't have a name."
The child didn't think it could come up with a good name, so instead asked if she wanted one. The young girl paused at this.
"Usually a human that has found themselves here will at this point give me a name. I've never been asked if I wanted one. No I don't."
The child felt relief at this. But then it struggled to say, with not wondering, what it should refer to her as.
"You will never need to refer to me. Think about it. Even if you were to tell your friends about me or your parents, are you going to say 'oh Rachel said this' or 'Zoe did that'. No, of course not. And names are not needed when it's just us talking. I don't want or need a name."
The child could see the logic in what she said, and decided then to never tell her its name either.
It was unnecessary.
The child, being a child, didn't really know how to continue a conversation after a statement like that. How it made friends at school was completely out the window here. And the child did decide that it wanted to be friends with the young girl. Even if she was a little rude, lived in a wired place and talked in a strange way. The child then decided to skip the next step that usually happens after people exchange names.
"What do you mean play?" The young girl asked in response to the question. The child gave a list of examples. Tag, or they could pretend to be cowboys, or they could play hide'n'seek, or they could make mud soup. The girl started to swing slightly. Just enough that it could be confused for the wind. The ground beneath the child's feet started to rumble
"Stop!" The young girl suddenly yelled. She took a deep breath in. "That was too many options."
The child waited for her to add more. When she didn't, the child figured it would be easier to choose one for them.
"No"
The child chose another.
"No"
Then another.
"No"
Then another.
"No"
The child went down its original list, then suggested a few others. The young girl said no to all of them. Now the child was very lost. It struggled with trying not to be confused while still thinking what to do next. The ground hiccuped a few times but nothing more than that. In the end the child came up with nothing. The young girl started to swing higher and higher in the air. The squeaking steady and soothing. The child didn't want to go home yet so started to pick up some grass, leaves and rocks. The child then dumbed them near one of the poles of the swing set. The child made all sorts of cakes, cookies and soups with them. Each time it finished it would gently scoop up the make believe food and show it to the young girl.
She would respond with "looks yummy" or "I’ve never had that" or "sure I'll take one." Then she would pretend to eat it just like the child then go right back to swinging. The child had no idea how much time had passed. The sky above remained dark, the light that did shine around was tinged blue and flickered slightly. But it was hard to pinpoint its source. The child however decided it was late and that it should go home.
"You can leave whenever you want."
The child was worried that if it left it would not be able to find the young girl again, or this place.
"That's possible. But I'm not trying to hide, when you want to find me again you will."
That reassured the child. It left through the buses that it came through. The dark sky and flickering blue light left instantly,
(Bad Overhead Speaker) Narrator One
replaced with a bright sunny day. Small puffy clouds lazily sliding across the sky.
Panic.
The child couldn't comprehend what it was seeing. Sun high in the sky, bright. The air was warm, a breeze slightly cooling its cheeks. The child's mind screamed that this wasn't right. The place it had stepped into was for foreign , wrong, other. It didn't belong here.
It needed to go back.
Back to the inbetween place. Back to its darkness and flickering blue light. Back to the young girl swinging on a swing set. The child froze as it looked around. A face smiled at it from a streetlight a little down the walkway. It was a missing person flyer. The child walked up to it. It looked new, the paper still fresh and white, nailed firmly holding it in place. The paper was placed at eye level for an adult so the child had to look up at it. It was the child's own face. Slightly distorted by the angel. The child's eyes seemed to look down at it from the poster, its smile wide and mocking. At the top of the poster read ‘missing child’ then in smaller writing underneath was the child's name, approximate height, weight, description and where it had last been seen, and what it had been wearing.
The child ran, the feeling of wrongness about the place it was in started to turn to fear. Fear of being in trouble mostly, making its parents worry. But also the fear of not understanding, of the world not making sense, of rules that had been taught being wrong.
The child rounded the corner to its street. How long had it been? The child made it to its front door. Once it had steady its breath it grabbed the key from under the garden rock and let itself in.
The sense of wrongness followed the child inside the house. Everything was exactly where it was supposed to be. Shoes on the floor by the door. Coats haphazardly thrown on a wooden box full of winter clothes. Bags and hats hung on hooks on the wall.
The child heard people getting up from chairs.
"Hello? Who's there?" Its mothers voice sounded worn and confused.
This is wrong.
The child couldn't help but feel like it was hearing a stranger's voice, even though it was the same voice it had been hearing all its life. Fear rose in its chest as the footsteps drew closer.
A stranger was about to show her face. She was a stranger using that voice.
The child's mother was the first to see it. She ran up to the child and scooped it tight into her arms. She petted its hair as she repeated over and over
"I was so worried" and "Where were you?"
The child did not respond. Its body was finding comfort in the hug while its mind screamed that it was in danger. The child's dad was next through the door. He was crying as he walked over and hugged them both.
It felt warm and safe.
The child's head spun with panic.
There was someone else in the room. He held back and looked at the child. This man didn't feel wrong to the child. He was a stranger but in a much more mundane way. The way that others share a store with people they don't know.
The look the man was giving the child was hard for it to read. It was like the child had done something wrong. Like it was somewhere it wasn't supposed to be. And this man knew. This man knew this isn't where it was supposed to be. The man stepped out of the door then. Saying something about them not needing his services after all. Then he looked right at the child and said something that confirmed what the child suspected. As the man walked out the front door he said.
"Try to stay where you belong".
The child said nothing.
Story Four
(Bad Overhead Speaker) Narrator One
The girl was sitting in a coffee shop across the street from her work. It was her day off. She should be at home asleep. She should be cleaning her house, doing her laundry, going grocery shopping. But she was sitting in a coffee shop watching the bench with the old woman statue. Watching to see if the blue light turned on. If a boy with a radio showed up. If a stone statue started moving.
She had looked up the man who had written that radio science book the next day on her lunch break. There was a short article about him online and not much else. Every book title she typed in came up with the same thing. That the books were in fact written by him, the date they were published and not much else. There wasn’t even a summary of what the book was about. She only knew that they were science fiction because the book at the library had said they were.
Her plan had been to try and look for these books in the numerous used books stores in town. Decided that if she was going to that she might as well make a trip of it and get a coffee.
She couldn't remember the last time she had just went out to get a coffee.
Now, however, she was stuck. Stuck watching a turned off streetlight and an unmoving statue.
The idea of moving on and forgetting was more of a habit than an actually viable option at this point. No matter how much she wished that wasn't the case.
She had emptied her cup a little ago. She twirled the cup back and forth in her hands.
A flicker.
She got up so fast that she knocked over her empty cup.
(Echo Source)
“Do you trust him?”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
She stopped. She doesn't think she would have heard the person if it hadn't been that what it said.
Do you trust him? Before she had answered yes.
She turned to look at the person. It was sitting at a table right behind her. It didn’t repeat the question, just calmly looked at her. She could just ignore the person. Finally talk to the boy on her terms.
But she wanted to know.
“Do I trust who?” she asked.
It nodded its head towards the blue streetlight across the street.
(Echo Source)
“Seems obvious.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
it replied
“You know about the boy?”
(Echo Source)
“Yes, not as much as you do it seems. You’ve been looking into him. What are you trying to find?”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
Did this person know the boy? Did it want to help? And if it did, did it want to help her or the boy? Both? Or maybe it was only in it for itself.
“Who are you?” The girl was getting tired of weird things happening to her.
This was real life.
The person titled its head, its lip twitching up.
(Echo Source)
“The Author.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
It said.
Her eyes winded, the author? But that wasn’t possible. The author of those books wrote them over a hundred years ago. And-
(Echo Source)
“Not the author you're thinking of.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
The slight smile left its face.
(Echo Source)
“I’m nothing like that con man.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
“Then what do you mean by the Author?”
(Echo Source)
“You're looking for answers right? But it seems like you don't know to what questions. I want to help.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
The girl looked to the bench across the street. The boy was talking to the old woman statue. Her book was closed and she was turned towards him.
“Sure” she finally said “I’m happy for the help.”
(Echo Source)
“Pefect”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)l
It grinned.
Outro
(Phone) Narrator Two
I know it's watching me.
I can feel it watching me
Always watching. Remembering.
It records in a way. Not like a camera. A perfect untainted image. But like a person. Or at the very least when the story comes out it has perspectives.
Opinions.
It reads naturally. Its not a history.
Something written in exactly what happened.
It has mistakes.
It has edits.
It has bias.
As much as it tries to compensate for that.
So the audience must be a human.
Not a creature it created.
At least not from scratch.
Maybe that means, maybe, there's an escape.
Credits
Blue Flickering Street light is written, edited and performed by Karma Night and is produced by Lanturans Aura
Intro and Outro music is by Aleksander Kordov
Logo is by Racc00n_with_a_Sp00n
Narrator two is voiced by cakebird
The Statue Of The Old Women is voiced by Ya Boi Trashy
Meri Marigold is voiced by YourfavoriteJegg
“Everybody Thinks They're The One To Get Away” is used with permission by Blue Jay Walker
All other sounds are either record by Karma Night or are from Freesound.org under creative commons
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Or visit our website Lanternsaura.com, this is also were you’ll find transcripts of episodes
All Links in show notes
Thank you so much for listening!
