Episode 10: The Fisherman Statue
CONTENT WARNING: General unease, distorted voices, unreality
TRIGGER WARNING: Discerption of being eaten alive, discerption of blood
Transcript
Intro
(Radio AM) Narrator One
The cat waited for them at the entrance to the park. It followed them around as they walked and played and explored. The boy with the thin sweater called the cat by one name. The girl in the loose fitting dress called the cat by another. Sometimes they would switch the names, or change them all together.
The boy and the girl started to grow older. They started to go to the park less and less. Till eventually they only went to go check up on the cat. Then came a time when the cat was no longer at the entrance. The boy and the girl feared the worst. The cat was getting old. They went on a search. At the very least to find the body to bury it. What they found instead was another teen like themselves playing with the cat by some bushes at the back of the park.
Story One
(Bad Overhead Speaker) Narrator One
It wasn't raining today. The clouds had gone and the sun was out. It wasn't warm exactly. But he didn't feel the need to rub his hands together every time they were digging in the dirt or pruning a flower or pulling a weed.
He was on his own today.
He didn't need much help like he did with moving the large flower pots around or carrying large amounts of flowers.
So he was on his own today.
Just him, the sun and the plants. And well, the fisherman statue.
He used to love working on the flower beds around this part of town. Right by the ocean, beautiful walkway, no awkward angles or uncomfortable positions . Just a few pots and bushes to tent to.
Trim the buses, remove the weeds, retile the soil and plant new flowers. They were always flowers that would only last the season. He thought that was a shame. Flowers planted just to look pretty for a few months. In the winter they even just put pine tree twigs in the soil. Just for the aesthetic, not for them to grow.
However, it did mean he had a job. And planting beauty was a pretty good job at that. He glanced at the fisherman statue and took a deep breath.
Planting beauty, he was planting beauty. It was a nice day, not a cloud in the sky, a cool breeze. It was fine. He was fine.
The fisherman statue had a few flowers in his hand. He always had a few flowers in his hands. The way his hands were craved made a perfect blow to place them in, although it did make it hard to see what the statue was supposed to be doing.
The gardner was working his way up the walkway getting closer and closer to the fisherman statue. As he did, the flowers in the fisherman's hands became clearer and clearer. One was purple with round petals. The gardner saw this flower very often. He was even planting some by the walkway now. A windflower was its common name. Although the ones he was planting on the walkway were red and white. But it was a common enough flower. There could be some growing on the rocks of the beach below or someone could have gotten one from the flower shop up the road or even brought it all the way from their house.
It was a common flower, nothing weird with it being here.
The gardner continued to put flowers up the walkway. One at a time. Carefully placed. It was getting late in the day, and more and more people were out on walks. It was still a weekday, so not enough people to make his job difficult. But enough. Enough to make him not feel alone with, it. He took another quick glance at the statue.
There was a drooping bell shaped flower in the fisherman's hands. Smaller than the windflower. Without looking too hard at what it was, it was hard to tell whether it was a natural droop or if it was withering.
He shook his head. It didn’t matter what flowers the fisherman statue was holding. All he had to do was his job. That’s it.
He was right in front of the statue now, back turned to it. The gardner wouldn’t say it felt like eyes were on him, like he was being watched. More like someone was behind him, a real person. Not menacing, just there. Something that a statue, an object, shouldn't feel like. He kept looking over his shoulder making sure someone hadn’t sat down beside the statue. It would have been better if someone was sitting behind him. As awkward as that might be. It would be better then, this. He tried to work as quickly as possible. But there was a large pot here as well as the opening of a walkway so it was taking much longer than he wanted.
He felt a brush on his shoulder and stood up, turning around quickly, spade held in front of him like a knife.
“Woah! Sorry man, I didn't mean to walk so close to you.” It was a couple walking hand in hand along the walkway. The man closer to him was apologizing.
“Oh, no, no, it's okay. I was just a little bit in my own head you just started me.” The gardner replied. He lowered the spade.
“No worries, sorry again for startling you then.” The couple left hand in hand. The other man waving goodbye.
The gardner took a deep breath in and accidentally looked over at the fisherman statue.
It was a bog rosemary.
The dropping flower in the fisherman statue's hands was a bog rosemary. Not an uncommon flower, but not around here. He had never planted them, nor did they sell them at the flowershop. And he had no idea why someone would bother bringing one from home. Or why they would even grow it in the first place.
He shook his head. He had to stop looking at it. Nothing good came from staring at this thing for too long. It was just a little too much on the side of lifelike. But just enough not that you knew it wasn’t real.
There was another purple flower among the windflowers. Just one, a little lighter than the Windflowers. Its petals a little pointer. The gardner had never seen this flower around here. Nor did he recognize it. He wouldn't go as far as to say he would be able to recognize every flower. He properly wouldn't even be able to recognize every flower in this country. But he hadn't even seen this flower before. It looked pretty similar to lot of other flowers he knew but not exactly. Either the leaves weren’t the right size or the stem was too long or the inside of the flower wasn't right. He took a photo of the flower on his phone. He would look it up later, maybe it was a common flower.
He turned back around and started working with the plants again. Maybe he didn't look up the flower later. Maybe he didn't want to know. Maybe he could just ignore it. He could stop trying to figure it out. He didn't need to know anything more about this unnerving statue.
A ringing started in his ears. He sat up straighter. He knew that sound. Had seen what it dose. But it was day, surely it couldn't happen during the day. Above the fisherman statue was a board perch for birds. Mid way up it was a streetlight. And it was, it was flickering. It shouldn't even be on, let alone flicker. It wasn't bright but the sun was out. The blue light was starkly visible despite the sun. Despite the flickering. Despite that the light once again shouldn't be on. It flickered, faster and faster.
The gardner looked around to see if anyone else noticed. There weren’t many people around and the few that were mostly looking at him. The few that had to walk by him gave him a wide breath or as much as they could on the small walk way. Why weren't they afraid of the light? Or at the very least curious? He realized with a start that he was standing in the circle of blue light. A wall behind him and the fisherman statue in front. He hesitated only a moment with the thought that he couldn't abandon his tools, but then it was too late.
(Microphone) Narrator One
He must have tripped and fallen in his bid to escape the light. He put his hands under him and slowly pushed himself onto his knee. He felt a hot liquid slide down his face and looked down just in time to see the bright red splatter on the walkway. And then another and then another. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sat more comfortably. His head felt like a balloon, only attached to the rest of his body by a thin string. Everything felt so bright but the sky above was black, with a circle of a void that was hard to look at high in the sky. More blood dripped from his nose splashing on his clothes. He thought about standing up, but thought better of it. If he passed out again it was better to be closer to the ground. There was a blue tinge to the white and light gray that surrounded him. He slowly looked up.
He was under the light.
He was under the blue light.
He was going to disappear just like the others.
He was going to disappear.
Interruption One
(Bad Overhead Speaker) Narrator One
“I was thinking of going to the states, maybe like New York."
It was summer break. It was late, but the sun was still out. A warm breeze blew through the little side park by the library.
They were both going to be late for dinner.
“That's really fair you know.” The boy said.
His best friend was laying back on the grass, hands behind his head. The boy was sitting, hugging his knees to his chest.
“That's kinda the point. I want to be as far away from here as possible.”
He looked at his best friend. His best friend had his eyes closed, like he was relaxing, but his eyebrows were pitched. “It sucks here,” he continued.
The boy looked at the green grass swaying in the wind. The cloudless sky. The sun slowly setting.
“Yeah it does. What do you want to do in New York?”
“It doesn't have to be New York, just anywhere that's not here.”
A slight breeze brushes through his hair.
“What do you want to do anywhere?” The boy asked. His best friend took a deep breath in. “Anything, it doesn't matter, just-” He shrugged his shoulders, rustling his long hair more into the grass. “Anything.”
The boy liked this town. Liked that he knew where everything was, the people, the events that happen. He didn't want to leave. But he didn't want to be left alone more.
“Would you want company?” His best friend opened his eyes and sat up.
“You want to come?” His best friend tilted his head and smiled. The boy realized his best friend would have never asked if he hadn't asked first. He would have left with just a goodbye. Maybe a goodbye. He brought his knees closer.
“Of course I want to go with you. You're my best friend.”
His best friends squeezed him in a hug. The boy's face started to feel hot. He didn't understand why. It didn't feel like this when girls hugged him. Not that many girls had hugged him.
“That's great! We could go on an adventure together!”
An adventure. The boy did like the sound of that. He wouldn’t be leaving the town he grew up in and loved. He would be going on an adventure with his best friend.
“You have to promise me something though.” The boy said when he let him go.
“What’s that?” His best friend asked, The smile never leaving his face.
“You can't just leave without me. No matter how bad things get. You have to come get me first before you leave.”
The boy stared at the grass as he said it. His best friends laughed and leaned against him. The boy could feel his face getting even hotter.
“Of course! Of course! I promise I will not leave this town without you.”
Another breeze rustled through, bringing with it the first chill of night as the sun finally started to dip in the sky.
(AM Radio) The Boy Under Blue Light
“Andy, I-”
Story Two
(Mirophone) Narrator One
The girl couldn't believe what she had just seen. Someone had just jumped off the pire at the end of the one way street.
A real person.
Not one of the silhouettes. A person that could be out of the blue light. Then the figure had return. A spinning orange light following it.
What had the person left on the bench? Why did the figure take it?
She sat up from the hard floor boards of the pire and rubbed at her lower back. What she would give just to have a comfy place to lay down. It felt weird to be able to use both her hands at the same time. Not having to worry about keeping balance. She leaned on the new foot. Expecting pain, expecting it to not really be there and falling down. Neither happened. It was just cold, having no socks or shoe to cover it. It would be ironic to lose it again because of frostbite. But it didn't seem to work that way. She hadn't lost her fingers or nose to it yet, despite how cold it felt during the winter. And she didn't get sunburnt during the summer either. No, it seemed like the only things that could harm her were the creatures, the figure and herself.
She let out a breath. What was she supposed to do now? There was only so much thinking about things she couldn't control nor have any answers to she could take. It was just too much new stuff she could do nothing about.
But there wasn’t really anything else to do but think. You could only count the black dots in the sky so many times.
She was facing away from the shore. She hardly ever faced away from the shore. She kept imaging one of those creatures suddenly appearing and for some reason this time they could reach into the light. There was no where for her to go. She would rather not see it coming. She usually faced the shore.
The night tonight was clear. The ocean as calm as an ocean gets. The island she knew to be out there never got that much clearer. Although she was sure that back then, she had been able to see them. Even at night. Clear enough that on the closer islands you could see the individual trees.
Now they were always like a background painting. Just enough to give the impression of islands on the ocean. The stars in that distraction were like black smudges of ink. While the stars right above her were as crisp as something she could reach out and touch.
She didn't look out this way much.
When she had, she had done it while sitting on the wooden ground looking through the bars of her cage as she still thought of them. Too tired to stand on one leg for long without leaning on the rail.
Now she could see it, a line in the ocean barely visible. If she hadn't seen the orange light and how it shined out that way like it was hitting a wall, she doesn't think she would have noticed it at all.
But there it was. A line where the crisp waves smoothed out looking like unfinished brush strokes.
An object in the water, swimming against the waves, not fast, but something that must have a will of its own. The girl watched it move slowly just on the other side of the line. The girl instinctively took a step back. Maybe there were more monsters out there, different monsters. Maybe that line was a barrier like the blue light.
Maybe it wasn’t.
The object was moving parallel with the line in the ocean coming closer to her. She hoped it kept going. She hoped the line really was a barrier. She hoped that if it did come closer the blue light could stop it. It stopped facing her. She took another step back despite the still great distance between her and it.
At first it looked like the object was still. The waves around it making bob up and down. Then it got bigger, and bigger. She let out a breath when she realized the object was the size of a person. But drew one raptly back in once she realized so where the silhouette, and they could eat you alive in seconds.
She tried to watch it for as long as she could, but the blue light didn't reach all the way to the other railing and soon the object was close enough to be obstructed by the dock itself. She waited a few seconds to see if it would reaper.
It didn't.
It must have gone underneath the pier. She went to the railing that by now was her most familiar spot in her whole cage. She scanned the waves below and a little to the side. She would think she would see it but it would turn out to be a log, or seaweed or swirling sand. She stared at the waves for a long time. Maybe whatever it was sank to the bottom of the ocean, just out of sight. A hand on her shoulder.
A scream. Horse and broken and quiet.
But it was a sound.
She could hear herself scream.
She was so paralyzed by the realization that she let the hand turn her around with no resistance.
A boy stood in front of her. Round face, and a little short. She could hear his heavy breathing. The wind around. The rumble of the ocean below. But it wasn't loud and shocking, not like when the figure had plunged her back into sound. It was soft, gentle. Like she was relaxing at the beach.
It was nice.
He was also soaking wet.
“Who are you?” he asked, shaking a little. He wrapped his arms around himself, water dripping off him in rivers.
“Who am I? Who are you? Where did you even come from?” Her voice was scratchy and rough. Both from underuse and the damage she had caused to it. She hadn’t seen another blue light.
The boy turned and pointed to the trail of water leading up from the side of the pire. There were ladders that lead into the water below. The object, the boy, hadn’t gone under the pier at all, he had climbed up the ladder. Where the blue light didn't reach.
“My names Arlo.” He looked around at the sky, the pire, the ocean, then back at the girl. “Where I just came from well, uh.” he looked back out to the ocean. “Somewhere, else.” He looked back to the girl. “Sorry I know that's not really helpful. I just.” he shuddered. “It's not this place, but it's not like the real world either. Its-”
The girl's thoughts raced. Terrifying? Dangerous? Unbearable?
“Wonderfull.”
The boy finally said. He stopped shivering. “It's wonderful, the possibilities out there are boundless.” His face grew hard. “And it's just, it's just using it to make a box. A stupied perfect box.” He looked over to where he had jumped into the ocean for the first time.
“Did you see someone else there?”
The girl followed his gaze.
“The figure?”
The boy's eyes snapped back to her.
“An orange light following it right?”
“Yes?” she replied.
“Were you able to see what it was doing?”
“It picked up whatever you had left on the bench. What did you leave?” The boy's eyes went wide.
“It did?” The boy came closer to the girl. She didn't feel the need to back away.
“We have to go.”
“Go? Go where?”
The blue light below turned off.
A concert had finally reached its end.
And the performer had left the stage.
Interruption Two
(Bad Overhead Speaker) Narrator One
“We hardly get to see you anymore! It feels like we haven’t hung out in like forever!” One of her friends said.
There were still a few months away from show day, but she was already feeling the pressure. She hadn’t gotten the lead role or anything, but it was still a role she wanted to do her best in
“Can’t you skip just this once? Missing one practice can't be that bad.” Her other friend said. They both didn't get it. This was just a silly, forgettable school play to them. To her it was the start of everything. She wanted to be a star, to awe audiences, to be admired. And if she wasn’t willing to put her all into this then how could she say she always tried her hardest?
“I can't, guys. I need to go. I know we don't hang out as often, but it's only for a little longer. And! We’ll have all summer!”
“Oh! Speaking of summer, did you see there building a new pier near where you live?” said her first friend.
“Oh yeah I saw that! What's it even for? It's so high above the ocean. It's not for boats right?” said her second friend.
“No, no can’t be, unless there were really, really tall boats."
“Or maybe you have to climb the mast to get off,”
“Or, or it's only to get on the boat and you have to jump off the pier and hope you don't land in the water.” They both started giggling, the girl joined in a little late.
“You know what.” the girl said “when it's done being built I promise you two we will go.”
“To some boring dock? I mean sure, but it doesn't seem all that fun.” her second friend said. “Well why don't we go at night then?” The girl said. “Could be spooky, maybe.”
Her friends both looked at her, then each other. Her first friend's lip twitched up.
“Sure, that does sound fun. You promise?”
“Of course.” S he replied immediately.
“Pinky promise?” her second friend asked.
She held out her pinky, her first friends followed suit.
The girl brought her pinky to both of theirs.
“Pinky promise."
Story Three
(Echo Source) Narrator One
“I heard you're looking for Arlo Thron?”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
The woman sitting on the beach looks up at me with wide startled eyes, a hand on her chest.
“Oh! Yes I am. Do you know anything? I mean I assume you do because you’re asking if I’m looking, but you could just be curious as to why I'm looking. He's a missing person you know. But it seems like anybody in this town really knows that. They also seem to not really know him at all? Super wired. I mean the town isn't that small, but I have talked to a lot of people today and-”
(Echo Source)
“How do you know who he is?”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
I ask interrupting her.
She titles her head, much too far for it to be an involuntary action.
“What do you mean? Are you asking if I know him personally?”
A feeling like fingers running up the base of my skull. A little nuage, a sensation. Just subtle enough to think that the thought was my own. A need to answer.
‘Yes, do you know him personally?’ But this isn't the question I want to ask. I already know the answer is no.
(Echo Source)
“You're not from here, where did you come from?”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
She pinched her eyebrows. The fingers on the back of my skull felt as if they were tingling.
“Oh, yeah this is my first time in town! Is it really that obvious?” She replied.
‘How do you know about Arlo Throne then?’ The question is subtler this time, closer to something I wanted to know. But it wasn’t my question.
(Echo Source)
“Where are you from?”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
I ask again. My voice calm, conversational. She leans away from me. The fingers grip and scratch, no longer trying to hide themselves, just doing anything they can do to get a grip on my mind.
“The mainland. I was hired as a private investigator."
I take a step closer. She wears a flowy flower covered sundress. Hair down and long, chunk earrings, bracelets and necklace.
(Echo Source)
“Private investigator? Who hired you?”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
She got up from the bench, the fingers fully retreating from the back of my skull.
“That's, uh, that's confidential. Do you know anything about the disappearance of Arlo Thorn? ‘Cause if not, I don't have anything to say to you.”
She started to take a few steps away.
(Echo Source)
“I know lots about Arlo Thorn, but you're going to have to tell me some stuff about yourself.”
(Walkie-Talkie)
Telephone click
She was not a part of the story.
She was an intruder in my perfect story.
She wasn’t from here.
She wasn’t from anywhere near here, not just the mainland, further.
Much further.
Someone was adding characters to my story.
Telephone click
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
“Oh, okay.” she said, holding her arm stiffly at her sides. “Do you, do you know about any strange things happening in town? Like ghosts, or rumors or urban legends?"
I grinned.
So it was like that. She wasn't a private investigator.
(Echo Source)
“Yes, I do. It’s said sometimes the street lights in this town will flicker to blue. If you stand under them when they do you'll be transported to the domain of a God. Although that God has no idea that it's there so it remains incomplete. The only place this God can see is under those blue lights. Outside of that is where the lost roam.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
I shrug,
(Echo Source)
“or that's the story I was told, seems like people would be a lot more worried if it were true, don't you think?”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
“No one has told me that story.”
(Echo Source)
“Maybe I just made it up.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
She squinted hard at me then. The sensation of fingers going from the base of my skull to the top. Another question popped in my mind. I didn't even give it enough time to form.
(Echo Source)
“You're doing that aren’t you?”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
Her eyes widened. Then she took a deep breath. Her demeanor went from a scared, skittish woman to one that was confident and in control.
So it was all an act.
“You know what's going on here.” The airness in her voice was gone.
(Echo Source)
“Yes.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
I answered, although it wasn't a question.
“You know information on Arlo Thron.” Again not a question.
(Echo Source)
“Yes.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
I answer anyway.
(Echo Source)
“And more, I know where he is right now.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
She looked away. Her eyes fixing on something only she could see.
“And what you want is information on us?”
(Echo Source)
“Yes, seems fair don't you think?”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
She tapped her fingers on her phone
“Fine.” She finally said. “At the office though, so you're going to have to follow me.”
(Echo Source)
“Of course.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
We walk the rest of the way in silence.
“Meri?”
A person gets up from the desk when the woman opens the door. The person rushes over to her.
They looked like they hadn't been sleeping in a few days. Shirt wrinkled, suit hanging loose off of them. Hair uncomed and face unshaved.
Then they locked eyes with me. A buzz starts behind my eyes and travels down my neck and face. For a moment the person in front of me appears large, and menacing. All the distress turned into a look of roughness, as if they had just been in a fight and had won easily. Then that version was gone and they turned back into a sleep deprived human.
So they both had something going on.
“Who is this?” Their voice carried authority that didn't need, whatever that was, to fake it.
“Oh, they are uh-”
(Echo Source)
“It.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
I say interrupting the woman.
(Echo Source)
“I’m the one who knows where Arlo Thron is.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
The person brings the woman into the office leaving the door open.
“Come in then.” The person says.
The office is small. There's a desk, a couple chairs in front of the desk. The woman moves one of the chairs from the front of the desk to the back against a wall. I take the last seat. The person reaches over to a big old fashion tape recorder. The ones that sit on a desk, rather than one to carry around.
They press record.
Interruption Three
(Bad Overhead Speaker) Narrator One
She cleaned hotel rooms. The big hotel by the ocean.
She cleaned hotel rooms. The biggest building in the town.
She cleaned hotel rooms. It had a high up view of the pire, the walkway, the stage, the park. She cleaned hotel rooms. She tried to not look out the windows. The windows that looked over the ocean, the pier, the walkway, the stage, the park.
She had worked at the hotel for a long time.
She didn't look out the windows.
Story Four
(Microphone) Narrator One
Pain.
Everything was pain. They had been walking. Walking in the rain.
An electric shock up their hand.
Walking. It had been raining. There was, there had been.
A pressure, then a pop in their arm. Shoke, then numb.
There had been a statue. No, that couldn't have been right. The statue, the person sitting on the bench was talking. Couldn't have been a statue.
A pull, then a give, then a tear. Skin breaking strand by strand. Burning in the skin that was left. Hot then cold.
What had the person been saying? That it was a nice day. But that couldn't be right. They had been walking in the rain.
Something sharp, but blunt, pressing and pressing on their stomach until it gave way like a defaulting balloon. A feeling like being on a boat. Stomach and intestines rolling and heaving. Only now they were bumping against their lungs, their liver, their heart.
There had been a blue light. Flashing on and off. The blue light had made all the other colours duller. Or none existed.
A movement. They're back dragging on the hard concrete. Bumps and rigged scraped groves into their back. Digging deep. Soon there was a little less friction, a hot liquid spilled from the countless groves on their back.
They had wanted to grab their umbrella. It had been by the building. It had been raining and they were getting wet.
Chunks of them were being torn off or simply fell as there was nowhere else for them to hold on too.
There had been a face. Suddenly and all they could see. A smile with too many teeth. Then pain. Everything was pain.
It had been raining.
Why weren't they dead? They should be dead. So much of them was gone and still being taken away. They were being dragged. The blue light wasn’t what caused all the colour to be gone. There hadn't been a blue light in quite some time. A crake and a pull. A large weight left their body. An empty feeling just below their hips. Piles of black sticks and pebbles. Noticeable only in that they had never seen them before. The dragging stopped in front of one of the piles. They felt like ice running throughout their vines. The pain turned to a numb cold.
They should already be dead.
A white void parallel with their eyes. Surrounded by a black oval.
A skull.
They were face to face with a skull. They were next to a pile of bones.
They should be dead. They should be-
A crack. Teeth close to their eye. A pressure. A pop.
It had been raining.
Interruption Four
Blue Jay Walker "Everybody Thinks They're The One To Get Away”
“Wonder what they'd do if the people all knew,
When he get home he don't take off his shoes
He's headed for the cat house the very same day”
Outro
(AM Radio) Narrator One
A boy and a girl holding a cat
A man putting bait in a fishing hook
A man relaxing after a hard day work in the rain
A man and his dog after play
An old woman reading on a bench
These are the statues in this small sea side town
Credits
Blue Flickering Street light is written, edited and performed by Karma Night and is produced by Lantuars Aura
Intro and Outro music is by Aleksander Kordov
Logo is by Racc00n_with_a_Sp00n
The Boy Under Blue Light is voiced by Dod
“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 LanturanAura.com, this is also were you’ll find transcripts of episodes
All Links in show notes
Thank you so much for listening!
