Episode 4: The In-between Places
CONTENT WARNING: General unease, Distorted voices, unreality
TRIGGER WARNING: Description of blood and bone, Self harm (screaming until vocal cords no longer work)
Transcript
(Radio) Narrator One
Across the street there's a bakery. Cupcakes, cookies and scones are displayed on the shelves. The inside is brightly lit and smells of frosting and cinnamon. Next to it is a Thai food restaurant. It doesn't open until 4pm. The tables are clean and the floor is swept. On the other side of the bakery is a boutique clothing store. The clothes are made of wool, velvet and silk. You have never seen anyone enter.
Beside you is a dollar store. It is made of red brick, clearly placed with care and maintained well over the years. Beside it is a toy store. The inside is an explosion of colours and sounds. Cherry and full of childhood joy. On the other side of the dollar store is an alley. Inside is a fridge leaning on the wall of the next building. The fridge advertises free range eggs. You’ve never seen anyone open it.
You know this place. You’ve walked down here countless times. It's the main street. You can’t be lost. You have memories of walking down here, going places. The town isn’t that big. You shouldn't have been walking for this long.
Across the street is a dollar store. It has a metal roof, rust visible around the signs. Beside it is a toy store. The dolls in the window stare out, following any movement. The stacked boxes of puzzles around them rotted and faded at the edges. On the other side of the dollar store is an alleyway with a gate. You’ve never seen it closed before. Just inside the gate is a fridge advertising free range eggs. The fridge door is open.
Beside you is a bakery. There's nothing displayed on the shelves. Through the window you can see rats and insects fighting for crumbs on the floor. Beside it is a Thai food restaurant. All the waiters and waitresses and cooks line up with their backs against the wall. Eyes closed, resting. They are not needed yet. It’s not 4pm. On the other side of the bakery is a boutique clothing store. They’ve been in business longer than you have lived here. You’ve never seen anyone come out.
(Phone Click)
(Radio) Narrator Two
I keep walking. I knew these places. I walked here before. I’m not lost. The town's too small for that. I’m on the main street, and the road only goes one way.
(Phone Click)
Intro Music
Story Pt.One
(Bad Overhead Speaker) Narrator One
She stared at the blue light in front of her work. It was morning, her shift started in a few minutes. Mornings were much busier in this seaside town. People walking, getting breakfast, coffee. Even during the dead of winter.
The blue light shouldn't be on. No street light should be on. She stood in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at it. People moved around her, giving her strange looks.
They can’t see it.
The people around her can’t see the blue light.
They didn’t see how the flickering blue light reflected off the dark grey stone of the old woman statue. Her breath shallow . How every once in a while she would turn a page. Only she could see it. Her and the boy sitting next to the statue, grinning like it was his birthday.
"So you can still see me." He said.
She continued to stare
"Oh and no one else can, guess you figured that out. Can't hear me either. Makes what I do easier."
"What do you do?"
"Careful, you can still be heard. There's a lot of people out and about and people talk. They'll remember if you start acting weird, especially in front of your place of work." He was smiling the whole time, like it was a joke
She moved out of the sidewalk and sat on the bench across from him. It was just out of reach of the blue light.
"I know this sounds creepy but it's very easy to get information when people can't see you, don't worry, don't worry. I'm not a weirdo that's going to peep on people or anything. Couldn't even if I wanted to. I can only go where the street lights reach. Which means I can’t go inside most buildings. There are some expectations, but houses are not one of them.” The girl continued to stare, she was going to be late for work.
“Okay sorry, no need to glare at me. What do I do? Well I'm a scientist.” He said it like it was the greatest achievement a human could aspire to be.
“In a sense. Do you know what the difference between messing around and doing science? Writing things down. I have pages and pages of notes.” He pulled out a notebook. It had a spiral top. It couldn't have had more than 50 pages.
“My area of expertise? The flickering blue street lights of this little sea side town. Well I wouldn't go as far as to say I know everything about them, I definitely know the most.”
*A very, very quite laugh*
“So are you interested now? Seems like you weren’t able to forget. You know most of the time, like 99% of the time, people do forget. You would think that something that strange would stick in someone's head. But humans are really good at forgetting. Really good. I'm glad you changed your mind though! I haven't had a real person to talk to in a long time."
She got up from the bench and walked towards the front door of the bookstore.
"Oh come on! Where are you going?"
Her shift had started a couple minutes ago, her co-worker eyed her. He definitely saw her sitting on the bench outside.
She glanced back out the window after she had put her bag away and clocked in.
The boy was directly across the street. The blue light from the street light above shone in a circle around him. He gave a wave, like they were friends. He then walked to the edge of the light and disappeared. Like he had moved behind a wall. The light blinked off.
She was in for a very long shift.
Interruption One
(Microphone) Narrator One
If a lighthouse’s purpose is to guide ships safely to shore, this one's purpose is to guide people to town. It's not large, or tall, or even that eye-catching. It sits on top of a grocery store. A decoration. An indicator of where it is rather than a function of it. A seaside town must have a lighthouse, so a lighthouse there is. Even if it's in shape only. There's no way in, the light doesn't turn on, its far from the ocean. A statue of a lighthouse, pretending to do the things a lighthouse dose.
(Walkie-Talkie Turning On)
(Phone)
The light shines all over town, rotating, searching. It guides those that are lost.
(Walkie-Talkie Turning Off)
(Microphone)
Someone stares at the lighthouse from across the street. Someone that is hard to look at. Shifting in and out. Glitching. A hand will become solid, then an eye, then a shoe. As one appears, the others disappear. Constantly changing, flickering.
(Walkie-Talkie Turning On)
(Phone)
It can be seen all over town, it can see all over town
(Walkie-Talkie Turning Off)
(Microphone)
The lighthouse turns on, then off, then on, faster and faster until it's steady, bright and orange. All the streetlights shine black, the sky and road are white.
(Walkie-Talkie Turning On)
(Phone)
The watchtower searches, the light bright and blinding
(Walkie-Talkie Turning Off)
(Microphone)
Someone moves, the orange light follows. It's looking, searching, seeing, watching.
(Walkie-Talkie Turning On)
(Phone)
It guards the borders of the town
(Walkie-Talkie Turning Off)
(Microphone)
For those not part of this place, those not meant to be a part of the story. Those that can bleed. Those that can leave some of themselves behind. Those that return to claim those parts back.
(Walkie-Talkie Turning On)
(Echo Source)
“Did you know that blue and orange are opposite colours?”
(Walkie-Talkie Turning Off)
(Microphone)
Those under blue light can’t see orange.
Story Pt.Two
(Bad Overhead Speaker) Narrator One
He couldn't believe he had been so stupid. Scientist, he needed to think like a scientist. She had looked so scared, like he had really hurt her. Calm, he needed to stay calm, think rationally. She wanted to talk tomorrow at school about it. He had apologized, what more was there to talk about? When she had walked away, it seemed like something she had been dreading had become reality. He hadn't checked if all the factors were in place before he went to show his experiment. He knew that the low buzzing wasn’t there and he had tried it anyway. It was the first thing he had figured out. How could he have ignored it like that? And now his friend was mad at him. How was he going to face her at school tomorrow? She was probably grounded. He didn't have a place to sleep tonight. How was he going to explain what he did? That he didn't mean to hurt her but she was being too loud. It was getting cold. He had nowhere to go. He stopped walking.
It was very late at night
No one was around
It was becoming more and more likely that the light in front of his house was the only one that worked.
It made more sense if that was the case. Why there were no other reports of wired happenings, if the sample size is so small, it just made sense. Also, it made way more sense why it had been him. If it was the only one, and it happened to be near his house. Well he was going to be near his house a lot. So the chances of him being near when it happened were higher.
Of course.
It had to be the only one.
He looked at where he was. He had instinctively started walking back home. His mom was definitely waiting up for him. He hadn't stuck around for dinner. He imagined climbing in through the ground floor window, dropping to the floor, the room completely dark. Then his mother turning on the lights and saying ‘where have you been?’
It was straight out of a cheesy coming of age movie. His dinner was definitely cold.
The streetlight was in front of him. Orange, steady, dim light shone from it.
(Walkie-Talkie Turning On)
(Phone)
It was very late at night
(Walkie-Talkie Turning Off)
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
He should try it. Aging. Just to make sure. 100% sure.
He took the radio out of his pocket and walked over. Low buzz, static, white noise. It was much easier this time, finding the right balance. The orange light turned off. Then back on. Then off again. Becoming faster and faster. Once it had reached a speed where it was only just noticeable that it was flickering it turned a bright blue. The boy felt a spark travel up his spine. It still worked.
He stood right outside the circle of blue light. The line so clear on the dark pavement.
He needed to think like a scientist.
Maybe now was a good time to confirm the other part of his experience. If that other world was really there. The stump of his missing pinky throbbed. No if blue light exists, then the inverse place did too. Once he crossed this line there was no going back to his normal life.
He could throw the radio away. Forget that sometimes the streetlights turn blue. He could go to school tomorrow, actually show up every day. He could have that talk with his best friend tomorrow, make it up to her. He could try to get along with his mom, or at least keep the peace till he moved out or maybe even went to university.
His shoulder and hands began to shake. Sometimes rose from his chest, up his throat and out his mouth.
Laughter.
He started to laugh so hard and loud tears came to his eyes. Yeah right. He thought to himself. Why would he want a normal life when this is all he ever wanted? He kept laughing as he stepped into the blue light.
No one watches.
He felt the world shift. All the colour starts to drain and the blacks and whites start to reverse.
(Walkie-Talkie Turning On)
(Echo Source)
*Laughing*
(Walkie-Talkie Turning Off)
Interruption Two
(Bad Overhead Speaker) Narrator One
We sit in the center of a stage. A stage in a park. The stage is shaped like a half dome, it looks like it should move. Like a paper fan.
It dosen’t.
We are an audience, an audience of one. We sit on what the characters see as a stage. We watch a show made for us.
We remember.
We are an audience.
Backstage.
An audience can’t go backstage.
An audience can’t see the crew making a movie, or the team making a video game,
(Walkie-Talkie Turning On)
(Echo Source)
Or an author writing a book.
(Walkie-Talkie Turning Off)
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
An audience can know these things exist. That they must exist for the creativity to happen. An audience could even meet these people, talk with them.
But they are not the story.
An audience that goes backstage is no longer an audience, they become something else. A participant in the creation of the story, an artist, a creator.
(Walkie-Talkie Turning On)
(Echo Source)
A god.
(Walkie-Talkie Turning Off)
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
An audience that is so much of what it is, an audience of only one can never look backstage.
Can never participate in the creation of the story.
We watch.
We remember.
We can only watch as players exit stage left.
We sit in the middle of a stage. We watch the whole story. The stage blinks.
A c2 d2 G z2 C2 B A c2 C F z2 d2 G b2 A z2 F2 G2 C2 F2
Story Pt.Three
(Bad Overhead Speaker) Narrator One
She wanted to forget so badly. She didn't want anything to do with this boy under the blue light, that wired reserve place or any of this spooky stuff. Stuff like that was only fun in fiction, and she hadn't even read a book in a while.
(Walkie-Talkie Turning On)
(Echo Source)
But it had been exciting, right?
(Walkie-Talkie Turning Off)
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
She took in a huge breath and slowly blew it out trying to let the thought pass out of her head. It didn't matter, it was dangerous. Those creatures were dangerous. Or at least that's that the boy had said.
(Walkie-Talkie Turning On)
(Echo Source)
Do you trust him?
(Walkie-Talkie Turning Off)
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
She paused, the book she had been just about to place on the shelf weight heavy in her hand. She did trust him. At least enough to believe that he had been telling the truth about that place being dangerous. And that most people were able to forget.
Then why couldn't she?
That place, it consumed her every thought. She kept glancing out the window. The statue of the old woman was still mimicking sitting and reading a book. The light above her was off. So was the one across the street. And the one after that and after that and all over town. Blank, unless metal polls.
The sun, covered by grey clouds, still shone in the sky. The boy was nowhere in sight.
She continued to put books away. She felt, rather than saw, a flicker in the corner of her eye. She remembered a head peaking out from the side of a building. The one across the street.
A grin.
She turned her back fully to the window. Shoving books on the shelf. ‘If I don't look then it's not there. It can’t be there. Not here.’
She repeated this in her head over and over. She kept repeating it as she slowly turned to face the window.
The streetlight above the statue of the old woman was flickering blue. On and off, on and off, over and over until it was barely noticeable. The people outside didn't even glance at the streetlight, not even when a boy seemed to shift out from the light sitting next to the old woman statue. He got up from the bench and made big exaggerated walking movements towards the window like he was on a stage. Unfortunately for him, she was the only one watching.
He turned dramatically towards her, pretending that he hadn't noticed her in the store till just then and was oh so excited to see her. He waved hugely, arms fully raised above his head. He then acted as if an idea had just come to him. He then mimed putting on the hood of a hoodie and pointed at her and then himself.
The hoddie, she still had his hoddie. She was pretty sure she had put it in with the rest of her laundry out of habit. She tried to mime that she didn't have it, that it was at home. Crossing her arms in front of her, then mimed putting on a hoddie, then pointed at the general discretion of her house. He scrunched up his face and shook his head. He then repeated the movement of putting on a hood then walked back and forth in front of the window, head bowed, rubbing his arms as if it were cold outside.
She let out a sigh and rolled her eyes. She did the hood movement again then made a rectangle shape with her hands then a triangle, making a house. The boy made an exaggerated 'o' with his mouth, then smiled, walking to the edge of the light and slipping out of view.
Her first thought was 'God I hope he's not going to my house'
her second was 'Oh shit I’m still at work.'
Reality hit her. She became very aware of her body and the things she had been doing. She quickly looked around to see if anyone had been watching her. Other than two teenagers a few aisles down giggling as they glanced at her, she doesn't think anyone else had noticed.
She turned back to the books she had been putting away and felt the blue light flicker off.
. . .
The streetlight outside her work was flickering blue. A boy stood under it and waved at her as she walked out the door.
"You finish really late. Why does a bookstore need to be open till 9?" She didn't think he actually wanted an answer to that question so she didn't offer one.
"What are you doing here?" She asked while locking the door. She hoped her co-worker was far enough down the street to not hear her seemingly talking to herself.
"To get my hoodie back." He said it with confusion. She rolled her eyes.
"I know that, I just, I mean," she paused, "like are you going to follow me to my house?"
"When you put it that way it sounds really creepy. Yeah, I was planning on walking with you to your house. I can't really go in and get my hoodie myself. Also it's kinda rude. Plus illegal, I guess, but I don't really have to worry about that."
"Cause no one can see you."
"Yup"
"Can’t I just bring you the hoodie tomorrow?"
He paused before he said.
"Sure, I mean, yeah." The excitement he had was gone. He looked lost. She sighed.
"Fine, follow me." She started to walk, not looking to see if he was following. She didn't need to wonder for long. She heard that low buzzing. The one that comes from that radio he apparently always had and the streetlight in front of her turned blue. She walked around it. The boy walked into it, the streetlight behind overlapping and then turning off. They walked like that for a few minutes. Her in the dark and him under the blue light. The boy broke the silence.
"So, why did you start working at the book store?" This was going to be a long walk.
"They were hiring."
"Really? That's it? You didn't have a love for books or writing or anything?"
"I used to read a lot when I was younger."
"Why not anymore?"
"Don’t really have the time." Ironically because of work she didn't say.
"Oh." He didn’t continue. The silence grew till she was sure they were going to have a quiet rest of the walk.
"What else do you do?" Nevermind.
"What do you mean?"
"Well you said you don't have time, but you can't work at the bookstore all the time, like it's closed right now. So what else do you do?" She still didn't really understand the question.
"I work fulltime there."
"Okay?" He didn't seem to understand the answer. "So when you get home what do you do?"
"Sleep."
"The whole time you’re home?"
He seemed genuinely surprised. It felt like it, she thought. What she said was.
"I mean I have to get ready for sleep and eat and ready for work."
"What do you do on your days off?"
"Sleep in, nothing much."
"Why don't you read then?"
Is this what he was getting at? Trying to find a gap in her schedule so she could read?
"I'm just too tired, okay? Why do you care if I read or not?"
He pitched his eyebrows.
"It doesn't have to be reading." He said slowly. "You just look like you haven't done something you find fun in a while." She hadn't to be honest. She was just too tired.
"I watch TV shows sometimes. Like on the computer."
"Tv, on the computer?"
"Yeah, I don't really use any of the streaming services, can't really afford them. So I pirate them. I know, I know its bad but like," she made a dismissive hand gesture. "You know?"
"That must be really slow." He said. "Why don't you just buy the DVDs?" Buy DVDs? God who even had a DVD player anymore. She doesn't even think her computer had a CD slot. She never had to check.
"DVDs are too expensive." She said,
"Why not rent them at the video store then? Even I could afford that."
She stopped walking. Video store? She hadn't seen a video store since she was 8. Who was this guy?
"What year are you living in?" She meant to say it as a joke, but it came out very genuine.
"The current year! I mean it's probably been a few years since I've been this way. So my guess it's 1998, maybe 1999?"
Oh my god, she thought. "No, no it's 2011, almost 2012." She didn't know what else to say. She fully looked at his face.
"No." He started walking back and forth "No, no, no. There's no way it's been that long, no, no, no." He stopped and looked at her directly. "I have to go." He then sprinted across the street. The blue light blinked on and off as he passed under them.
Interruption Three
Blue Jay Walker "Everybody Thinks They're The One To Get Away”
‘I knew a man with a firm handshake,
His name on the doors, his name on the plates,
You only live in this town cause he lets you stay’
Story Pt.Four
(Microphone) Narrator One
It had worked.
He was back in the weird inverse place. All the colour switched like the negative of a photograph. He managed to keep his balance this time. He looked around. He couldn't see any of those creatures this time. But that didn't mean they weren't there. And he knew how fast they were. His missing pinky tingled with phantom pain.
He was back
His eyes started to unfocus and he felt a wave crash in his head. He looked down at his hands, they again looked like a 3D shadow. Between his fingers on the ground he saw a flash of colour, contrasting aggressively against the white pavement and blue that surrounded him.
Red. Bright and fresh. Blood. He had to take a few steps back to keep his balance as a wave of dizziness washed over him. This is where he had fallen, where he had hit his head. It was his blood.
He was back, he was back.
He walked backwards away from the blood until his back hit the street light. He slid down the post till he was sitting on the ground. His shoulders started to tremble, his whole body shaking.
He was back, he was back, he was back.
The other streetlights shone black, bright, hard to look at. What if this light turned off? Would the creatures be here in minutes? Seconds? Would he be able to keep this light on?
Did he want to?
He warped his arms around his legs, his shoulders started to tremble, his whole body shaking. The blood here was so fresh, like it had just happened. Like he had never left.
Had he left?
He rubbed the pinky he could no longer feel. He had left. He must have.
The flickering began to become more noticeable. He started to dread the milliseconds it plugged him into the whiteness. The milliseconds were a creature could rush in and get him. The milliseconds he had to wait through because there was no other option.
His eyes started to get used to the whiteness. More and more details started to become apparent. His eyes caught on a small lump on the ground outside of the circle of blue light. If he were to kneel right at the edge of the circle and reach his arms all the way out, he could reach it. It was black like a pebble on the road. The road here however was white making it contrasted greatly. Its curves and shape didn't look like a rock. What could possibly be that small and white in the other world? Something that would be laying on the road? Something that he wouldn't have noticed before. His eyes could see pretty well in the whiteness now. He crawled over to the edge of the light. Not yet daring to reach his arm out.
Bone.
The realization hit him. It was his bones. The ones from his pinky finger. They were just laying there. The creatures must not eat bones. He should write that down. He should be writing all this down. What happened before, what was happening now. He pulled the notebook from his pocket. He stopped caring about the notes being neat only two pages in, chronology went out the window at page five, most of the notes turned into his thoughts and feeling of what was happening. Who cared what scientists usually did? He was discovering a whole new field of research, he got to make the rules. Once he was sure he was done he looked over the notes. They would be hard for anyone else to understand. But he didn't really have anyone else to show them to now did he? He put the notebook back into his pocket.
What was he going to do now?
He looked around, still no creatures, still no other blue lights.
Maybe on this side the rules were different. Maybe the black lights could be turned blue. Maybe he could explore the city. Maybe there was somewhere he could go.
The first problem was obvious. There was no sound here. No low buzz, no static. Even if he went on the assumption that the sound was there and he just couldn't hear it, it was going to be very difficult to get the right noise on the radio. He would never know if he was just not hitting the right station or if it didn't work like that.
Or it could work.
What if it worked?
He pulled out the radio. If he was honest with himself it looked really cool with the inversed colours. Almost all white with just black accents on the dials. He turned the radio on, no sound obviously. He turned the dials slowly, paying more attention to the lights around him, then what station he was on or what exactly he was doing with the radio.
What if it didn’t work?
What if this really was the only light?
What if the light turned off completely?
Maybe there was different creatures here, ones that could go in the blue light. Or maybe it was only that one creature that couldn’t. There could be any number of other things here. This was a whole different dimension. There was so many rules he didn't know. So many things that could go wrong. And he had no way back. He didn't know how to go back. He didn't think about how he would get back.
The light beside him flickered. The blackness disappearing, then reappearing, then disappearing, faster and faster.
Then it turned blue.
Interruption Four
(Bad Overhead Speaker) Narrator One
There are things in the places we do not go. Just outside the worn dirt path. The roof of your own home. The little rivers by the ocean.
The thick bushes at the back of the park.
You're allowed to go to these places. No one would stop you. You wouldn’t get in trouble. But you don’t, it's just not what people do.
Kids always find the in between places. The places behind, or under, or just a little out of the way. Adults stop them from going, it's just not what people do. Kids will vow to themselves that when they're older and don’t have someone telling them what to do they’ll go to the places behind and under and just out of the way.
Then they get stuck in the same trap.
It’s just not what people do.
There was a child that was encouraged to explore. The street, the shops, the town. This child was encouraged to observe, to question, to remember. This child was encouraged to be smarter, better and most of all curious.
This child went to the places behind, under and a little out of the way.
It then found a God.
Story Pt.Five
(AM Radio) Narrator One
“Still here?”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
The voice started her out of her day dreaming. She had been running. The background and purpose unclear. But it had felt so good to move fast. To be anywhere that wasn’t here. She stands up faster than her mind can register what's wrong. She grips to the wood rail behind her as it hits her.
She can hear.
There's a figure sitting on the wood rail across from her. The dark island mountains perfectly framing it. An orange glow surrounds it, seeming to come from nowhere. She squints her eyes at the figure. Trying to see more than a dark silhouette. Her mind is starting to buzz, the ocean crashing below sounds like saws, the wood beneath her dragging like metal. Every creak and groan of the pier scrapes across her ears. When the figure jumps down from its perch, it's like a gun has gone off. Despite the potential danger this figure poses she can’t help from shutting her eyes and clasping her hands over her ears.
It doesn't help.
Every footstep it takes towards her punches her ears. And it was getting closer. Would the blue light stop it? Did it work like that in the real world? Was she in the real world? Does that mean she can leave? Was she finally going to be saved? She opened her eyes and took her hands off her ears putting them back on the railing to help her balance. Also to give her leverage. If this figure intended to hurt her she wouldn't let it win without a fight. It moved towards her with purpose, like it was at a house party, casual, not fast or slow. The orange light followed it slowly, merging with the blue around her turning the light a dim white, neutral.
It was still impossible to distinguish its features. It felt like the blood inside her vines had turned to ice. It was like looking at a lack of light, a void in the vague shape of a human. Much harder to see than the fuzzy, glitchy creatures. But it moved like someone she had met before. Like a person. But the last person she had met here had just looked like a grinny black and white photo. The figure was so close and yet she would only catch a glimpse of a hair there or a sleeve here. Suggestions that it was more solid than a ghost, more present than the creatures, but still something that was other.
(AM Radio)
“Sorry, that was an unkind question. Of course you're still here. Otherwise I would just be talking to the wind.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
When it smiled every detail was visible, every curve of its face as its lips turned upward. Red gums glisten around perfectly spaced white square teeth. The smile grew and grew, surely that was more teeth then a human was supposed to have. When it talked again the details of its face disappeared, shifting back into the darkness. Other little details only showing up in quick glimpses.
(AM Radio)
“I assume you can still talk? Unless all that soundless singing had finally taken your voice away.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
Its eyes, widened and blood shot, come into view looking down at her.
(AM Radio)
“You’ve become quite a distraction for my audience.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
It continued.
It blinked and the details were gone.
“What are you?” She said, the question comes out as a crock before she can stop it. She brings a hand to her throat, massage it. Was that what she sounded like now?
(AM Radio)
“Oh honey! Your voice! You have not been taking good care of it. Singing all the time, no downtime or warm-up. And so loud!”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
It brings its fist down on the railing beside her. The wood cracks a little under the force. It starts shaking its head at her, like a disappointed parent.
(AM Radio)
“Might be not too long till you lose it.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
Pain
More intense than before. She collapses to the ground despite her hand trying to keep her up. Her missing foot starts to gush blood. It felt like when it first got bitten off, it felt like all her blood was leaving all at once.
It felt like she was dying.
(AM Radio)
“Oh right.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
The figure's voice filters through the pain but is meaningless to her. Then as quickly as the pain begins it stops. Reduced to a dull throb, like a healing bruise. The waves crashing below turn into a long and low drag, the wind a deep background thumb. She takes a deep breath in and out. The blood slows to a trickle. When her mind clears she asks.
“What did you do?" each word comes out in a huff. The figure crouches beside her, hands animated as it explains.
(AM Radio)
“I slowed down time. Shame. I thought it would be nice for you to hear the ocean again.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
“Why?”
(AM Radio)
“Well, the ocean has a very nice sound, calming most people say.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
“No why- how- why did you slow down time?”
(AM Radio)
“So you wouldn't die! Not now anyway. Eventually yes, but not now.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
She looks around. It's been so long since she seen the normal stars, even if it did seem like there were fewer of them.
“This is the real world then?”
(AM Radio)
“Real? Well real is subjective in this case. The world you're from though? Yes it is! Welcome home! No flowers, I'm afraid.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
“Home.” She says as she stands up and looks to the shore. There's a bench right across from the pier. Someone that sat there would have a perfect view of her. Flowers were scattered at the base of the bench, blown down by the wind.
(AM Radio)
“Well, yes, home. Unfortunately we have a little bit of a time limit.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
She turns back to look at the figure. Its hair blows slowly in the wind, then that detail is gone.
“What? You're going to send me back?” She asks.
The figure's hand becomes animated again.
(AM Radio)
“Oh no! Not right now!’
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
Its eyes stare at her
(AM Radio)
“Seemes a lot of trouble for such a short chat, don’t you think?”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
Its eyes fade again.
“So you're not here to save me?”
(AM Radio)
“That, unfortunately, is also a little subjective. Am I here to get you to your house and family? Give you the chance to see your friends? Go back to school like a normal person, that with a little bit of therapy and medication you can make yourself believe this was all a dream?"
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
She looks at the figure. That's exactly what she wants. Maybe with time she could make herself believe all of this was a trauma response to losing a leg. Maybe she could still do the musical.
(AM Radio)
“Then, uh, no”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
Its voice cuts through her thoughts.
(AM Radio)
“That dream would end with you making it to the end of this pier and some morning jogger having to make a very distressing phone call to the police.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
She starts off into the distance not really able to focus on anything.
“What are you?” It was the first question she asked but this figure hadn't answered.
(AM Radio)
“I didn’t answer that, did I? Assuming I'm a what, that is very rude you know. Most like to be addressed as a ‘who.’”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
The figure's smile appeared again.
She knew it was goating her to ask who it was, but she couldn't think of anything else to say. “Who are you then?”
The details on its smile became more strake, she could see every ride and bump on its teeth and lips.
(Am Radio)
“Like my name? Or are you asking if I'm human?”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
No, it can't be. She looks up, realizing that trying to see his face in the way he was now was impossible, not that she had been able to see his face very well the first time. She looks at his hands, willing them to become detailed so she could see. He burst out laughing long and loud. The figure holds up its hands wiggling all ten fingers.
(AM Radio)
“Should I take out a note pad as well? I’m not him darling, no you thoroughly pushed him away.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
She looks away again, back to the bench. The flowers move slowly though the wind. The figure lets out a big theatrical sigh.
(AM Radio)
“Fine, fine, no more teasing.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
The smile comes back to its face briefly.
“If we have such limited time why don't you just get to the point?” She says.
(AM Radio)
“You're right! It's just so fun to chat. The Lost aren't much for talking. Always moaning and whining about, well, how lost they are. Mmmm, kinda like you.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
“The Lost?” she can’t help asking even though she knows it's leading her to ask.
(AM Radio)
“The beings you have so affectionately called your wardens. There not the ones trapping you here you know.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
Then what was? Who was? Was it this figure? Or maybe it worked for someone, something, else?
“What?” Was all she said out loud.
(AM Radio)
“But of course you want to know why I'm here!”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
It continues, ignoring her question.
(AM Radio)
“I need you to pretty please, with a cheery on top, stop singing”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
There's a long pause; only the low wind and waves make any sound.
“I'm sorry?” She finally says.
(AM Radio)
“Oh no need to be sorry. No way for you to know that your singing would cause such a distraction.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
The figure's smile fades. Its hand slams on the wood beside her. The wood creaked under the sudden pressure. Its hand forms into strake detail, vines leading up the arm blue on grey skin. The shadow looks painted on. Like an image with the contrast all the way up. Then it fades, the figure rippled into its usual shape. Its shoulders moving like, like it's taking a deep breath.
When it speaks again its voice is calm.
(AM Radio)
“You are quite the distraction to my audience. They have a job to do and you are taking up way too much of their time and energy.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
The girl tries to look at the figure in the eye
“Your audience.” She doesn't say it like a question. Like it was the most natural thing in the world to have.
(AM Radio)
“Yes.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
The figure replies. The figure then starts walking backwards, the orange light peeling itself away from the blue.
(AM Radio)
“I appreciate your compliance.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
The figure blends at the waist. The girl stares. Was it bowing to her? And mimicking tipping a hat? When her mind caught up towards what was happening she said.
“Wait! What? Stop singing? It's all I have! I can’t stop! It's the only thing keeping me from going insane."
(AM Radio)
“Oh I assure you being insane isn't all that bad.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
There was a pause and then she said,
“I won't do it”
(Microphone)
Silence.
The low rubble of the waves and wind stop completely. Her vision goes black. She raises her hands, she could still see them, but everywhere else around her was just void.
A white spotlight flickers in front of her. It looks like a spotlight. The figure stands under it. Or what she assumes to be the figure. Under this new light in this, in this other new place, the figure has gone from an ever shifting shadow to a being cast in stark detail. Every single feature of its face and clothes looked like it had been drawn with every microscopic line and crease. Every vain in its eyes and hands. Every fiber on its hoodie and pants, every split end in its hair. It was difficult to look at so much information searing into her barin at once.
Then a light flickered on above her as well. Another white spotlight. The figure turned back into a 3D shadow, only white instead of black. Hard to distinguish from the white light around it. Her mind was still trying to process all that she saw and failing. What colour was its hair? Its eyes? What expression had it on its face? She couldn't remember. It had been so much information that her mind had to let go of all of it, or risk going mad.
“Where are we?” she asked, it was the only thing she could think to say. The figure did not respond, not even to mock. She looked over to it cautiously, not wanting it to suddenly become detailed again. It wasn’t looking at her.
A voice, new. One that the girl had never heard before. Soft. It was coming from the decoration the figure was facing.
“Please not her” the voice was saying.
(Echo Source)
“She is not the story. I need the whole story.”
(Microphone)
The figure replied. She looks in the decoration the figure is facing. She can only see more void. The voice starts to beg.
“We promise to not get distracted, I, you, we don't want her to get hurt, her singing is the best performance.”
(Echo Source)
“And there lies the problem doesn't it? The audience doesn't have a favorite.”
(Microphone)
The figure spit out the words and the girl takes a step back, despite the words not being directed at her. The monotone voice of what the figure calls the Audience starts to shake
“I…you…we…audiances usually have a favorite. Everyone has a favorite.” The figure turns abruptly and fixes on a point in the darkness, not anywhere near where the voice was coming from. Its eyes bulge, every vine visible even at this distance. Its teeth clunch. Lips straight, Another white light appears illuminating someone else in the darkness. The light around the figure turns orange, the new person falls to their knees and brings their hands to their eyes, violently covering them. Stopping just short of clawing them out of their sockets.
“NO! NO! The story is not about us! The spotlight must stay off the audience! Stop! Stop!” The light becomes a little brighter around the audience. The lights above the girl and the figure begin to flicker.
(Echo Source)
“If you don’t want the spotlight on you then you need to stop influencing my story! You think yourself as a character?”
(Microphone)
The audience takes their hands away from their eyes. There are red marks around their eyes from their finger nails. They shake their head violently.
“No! No! We are an audience!” The light above them dim.
(Echo Source)
“Good.”
(Microphone)
Then the light above the audience turns off. The lights above the figure and the girl stop flickering. The figure turns back to the girl. The light above it fades back to white.
(Echo Source)
“As you can see my audience is quite fawned of you and it is posing a problem for me. So why don't we make a deal. One that benefits both you and me, and them.”
(Microphone)
The figure speaks a little louder, gesturing like it was the host of a game show.
(Echo Source)
“Audience! I will not turn your favorite performance into stone, displayed for all to see at the end of the pier. And you,”
(Microphone)
The figure turns its attention to her. Walking close enough that the two spot lights merge just a little.
(Echo Source)
“I’ll fix that leg for you.”
(Microphone)
The girl tries to stand up but struggles without the help of the railing.
“What? Like I’ll get to go home?” She looks up at the figure. Home. She’ll get to see her parents, her friends. She’ll go back to school, do all her homework, do well. She'll be able to graduate and go to a college and have a life.
(Echo Source)
“Oh! You poor thing. I’ve already told you that's impossible. Even with a fixed leg, it all ends the same. In any case, and against my wishes, you're a very big part of my story now. You can thank the Audience for that. So now you can consider yourself, officially, a main character! Congratulations!”
(Microphone)
The figures' hands started clapping, the sound off sync.
(Echo Source)
“Without you I fear the Audience will fall apart. I really don’t have the time to create another one. And, ah! Look at the bright side. You will no longer be in pain! No more blood messing up your clothes. A clear head.”
(Microphone)
The figure moves closer, the spotlights becoming one.
(Echo Source)
“And all you have to do?”
(Microphone)
The figure pauses as the girl stares.
(Echo Source)
“Come on, you know it.”
(Microphone)
She clenches her first looking away to the spot the audience was. Hoping they were still there watching her.
“I have to stop singing.” She finally says, defeated.
(Echo Source)
“Excellent!”
(Microphone)
Silence once again.
The sky above is white, little black dots covering the surface. Below the gray oceans. Around her the wooden bars of her cage. She stands up. No longer needing the railing to help her. She looks at her foot. It looks exactly like the old one. Expect that a scar runs around her ankle.
Also, she was missing a shoe.
She then opens her mouth and screams. The air tears at her throat and lunges. Every time she runs out of air she sucks in another one. Eventually the air going in burns and the air coming out is speckled with red. She cough, spasms raking through her chest. She doubles over and spits out a glob of blood on the wooden floor. Just outside the light.
The Audience sits at a bench. The bench faces the pier. It has a front seat view. The Audience’s eyes are shut tight. Hands pressed tightly over their ears. Tears streaked down their face. They couldn't bear to witness the girls final performance.
Outro
(Phone) Narrator Two
My parents gave me this recorder for school. Said it would be easier than trying to write everything down, and it was less bulky than a laptop. I don't have a license, or a car for that matter, so bus it is. So the less stuff the better I guess. I’ve been listening to horror podcasts on the way to school and it kinda freaked me out about the recorder thing. Horror podcast, like fiction podcasts not like true crime. Something weird always happens to the guy that's recording. Radio, video, tape recorder, whatever medium the speaker is using. And I know there doing that to give the illusion that the audience has found, found footage or something, but it made me really not want to use the recorder. Although I have to imagine that the tape recorders they’re using actually have tape. Mines just a digital one, even had bluetooth. So definitely not as aesthetic for a horror podcast.
Pause
And they're not real! I should not be freaked out about using this thing. Then I thought maybe I'm embarrassed about it. Everyone else has a laptop and I'm here with a wired rectangle box with a blinking red light on it while I just sit there in class. And everyone else is just typing or writing away. I really shouldn’t be this self conscious. This isn't like high school, no one cares. I saw a guy the other day wearing one of those blankets with sleeves driving around campus on a motorized skateboard. And all I thought was ‘man I wish I had thought about bringing a blanket to school.’
Sigh
Honestly I don’t really like listening to the lectures off of this thing either. Feels like I'm taking the class twice. I'll just take notes on paper and maybe actually talk to people if I missed something.
Pause
Maybe.
Long pause
I still want to use the recorder though. It was a very nice gift. I really do appreciate it, I would hate for it to collect dust in the back of my desk. I don’t know how I feel about a journal or something like that though. Was never really good at keeping up with it and then it seemed pointless. Maybe I'll do a kinda cringe artist thing. Just record sounds I like or thoughts when I want to. Don’t know what I'll do with them after though.
Long pause
I mean whatever I can always delete it if I don’t like it. Speaking of.
(Phone Click)
Hello! If you are hearing this I have lost my recorder! Thanks for finding it. My name is Arlo Thorn and you can return this to-
Voice fades
Outro Music
Credits
Blue Flickering Street light is written, edited and performed by Karma Night and is produced by Lanterns Aura
Intro and Outro music is by Aleksander Kordov
Logo is by Racc00n_with_a_Sp00n
Narrator Two/Arlo Thorn is voiced by cakebird
“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
For updates follow us on Instagram, Bluesky or Youtube under Lanterns Aura
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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!
