Episode 6: La vie de l'auteur
CONTENT WARNING: general unease, distorted voices, unreality
TRIGGER WARNING: Implied Suicided (person jumps into ocean)
Transcript
Intro
(AM Radio) Narrator One
‘Death of the author.’ It’s probably a phrase you have heard before. It's based off of a French essay arguing that as soon as a ‘work’, Art, writing, craft, has left the creators hands they no longer have a say in it. That from that moment on, no matter their intentions, how their work is received is all on the, well, audience.
How completely incompetent.
This work will not be left to the whims of the masses,
And this author is certainly not dead.
Intro Music
Story One
(Mirocphone) Narrator One
What was that? What was that? What was that? His mind screamed at him as he ran through the inverse place frantically changing dials on the radio. He had to make sure that just the right pitch for every streetlight. Moving the dials almost on instinct, one wrong move and the thing that was chasing him would no longer be a problem as he plunged out of the blue light and into the waiting arms of the silhouette creatures he knew were around every corner.
He risked a glance behind him, the thing wasn't closer but it wasn't getting any feather away either. It didn't move like the creatures, there wasn't the slow then fast walking. The flickering like a film. It just seemed to faze its way, always at the same speed, always at the same distance. It would appear on top of a building then in the middle of the road then peering out of a window.
Then it appeared under a blue light.
The boy turned back to what he was doing. He could not get distracted. Not only did he have to keep the lights on in front of him he had to be careful where he was going. Otherwise he might trap himself. There were a lot of places with no streetlights, and he could only go the one way.
A flickering light parallel to his. A light on the other side of the street that turned on and off and on in sync with the light above him. He turned to look fully at this out of place light that followed him as he continued to run.
The thing was inside the light, not running, walking, moving from one light to the other. Keeping up with him like they were on a stroll. It turned to look at him and,
and,
it waved at him.
The boy was so shocked that he almost forgot to turn on the light in front of him. His hand slipped on the dial and he had to abruptly stop so he didn’t fall out of the light. Air ripping down his throat, tearing at his lungs. Now that he had stopped he doesn't think he can start again.
He had only looked away for only a second. Just trying to control his breath. The light was still on beside him.
Teeth starkly clear, every bump and ridge visible.
The boy tried to back away. The thing grabbed his wrist stopping him. The boy wasn’t able to move. The mouth around the teeth grew wider, then it pulled.
(Microphone) Narrator One
He only just managed to catch his balance, the blue light sliding over him as he fell out of it. He felt himself scream. Then heard it. Loud and sudden. His ears ringing with the onslaught of the unexpected return of sound. The things grip tighten as the boy desperately tries to get back under the light. Visions of mashing teeth dripping with blood invaded the boy's mind.
(Echo Source)
“I’m not going to hurt you, you know.”
(Microphone)
a voice said, close to his ear.
(Echo Source)
“I have no reason to, yet.”
(Microphone)
The thing pulled away, letting go of his wrist. The boy breathed in, then out. Hearing the air rush from his lungs. The thing was right in front of him. Sturrting, glitching, flickering. A white shadow contrasting against the black void that now surrounded them. Slowly, or all at once, parts of its body would come into focus, stark detail that was almost hard to look at.
The boy couldn’t look away.
The shock of being pulled out of the blue light, hearing in this place and the thing itself startled the boy into silence.
(Echo Source)
“You're so talkative when you chat with the statues. You can hear me can't you?”
(Microphone)
One of its ears became visible then disappeared. The boy forced himself to look away from the figure. Were the creatures here? Was it stopping them? All he saw was black, pitch black, void. He glanced behind him, maybe the blue light was still there, maybe he could run again. His legs burned at the idea.
Nothing, there was nothing there.
(Echo Source)
“What are you so afraid of? I said I'm not going to hurt you, didn't I? Don’t want her to listen in, do we?”
(Microphone)
It didn’t say it like a question, but a truth that it and the boy shared.
“Her?” The boy thought of a lonely girl on a pire. One of the only places he hadn't extensively exploded in this place or the place he was in before.
(Echo Source)
“Oh, don’t worry you have never met her.”
(Microphone)
The thing started walking back and forth, a sound like squeaking metal followed its footsteps.
(Echo Source)
“Honestly for a being that isn’t allowed to wonder, she sure tries to know all of my business.”
(Microphone)
The boy was having trouble resisting the urge to take out his notebook and write everything this thing was saying down. He didn't think it would like being recorded, in any way. He focused on trying to remember everything it said in exactly the way it said it.
“Being? What's the being? What do you mean by ‘wonder’?”
The figures' eyes became visible, clear, the bottoms of them crinkling, like it was smiling.
(Echo Source)
“Wondering in both senses of the word. She can not go anywhere. She is trapped where she is. And also her mind. No dreams or desires or goals. No pondering or contemplating abstractions, feelings. Thus is the curse of a god.”
(Microphone)
A god? The boy had no idea what the thing was talking about. He had thought that maybe it was a person or at the very least had been one, that he could learn from it. Now the boy knew the truth.
It was crazy.
(Echo Source)
“In any case she isn't important right now, you are.”
(Microphone)
The boy took a step back. The thing took a step forward, its shoes becoming visible as it did, disappearing when it stepped.
(Echo Source)
“Of course I don't mean you're an ‘important person’ in the grand scheme of things. But you're getting close, isn't that amazing?”
(Microphone)
The thing paused like it was waiting for a response. When none came it continued.
(Echo Source)
“But of course you don't want to be important, you just want to do something important or go on an adventure, whichever is easier right?”
(Microphone)
The boy thought about running again. Maybe the blue light was still there and he just couldn’t see it.
The figure grabbed his arm. It felt like static electricity. The boy started turning the dials on the radio again, fast, trying to get to any channel that would turn on any of the streetlights that might still be around him. Low buzz, white noise, loud. A light came on.
Orange.
The figure started to laugh, the laugh mixed in with the static, the low buzz and the white noise. The boy frantically turned dials and realized that the white noise wasn’t coming from the radio. The orange light flickered around him and the thing, seeming to come from nowhere. No, not nowhere. A point behind the figure. And not flickering, moving. Going from one side to the other then reappearing. Like it was rotating.
(Echo Source)
“Cleaver! A portable radio. The advancement of technology is really something isn't it?”
(Microphone)
The white noise got quieter, quite enough that if he didn't know it was there he doesn't think he would have noticed it at all.
(Echo Source)
“But there's something else isn't there?”
(Microphone)
The thing ran its hand down his arm and grabbed his wrist, lifting his hand. His left hand.
(Echo Source)
“Ah, so you have met the lost.”
(Microphone)
It pulled his wrist towards itself, reaching its other hand in his pocket. The boy ripped his arm away and took a couple steps back. The figure didn’t seem to noticed as it started to examine the bag it now held in its hands. The boy stared as the figure lifted the bag up, as if to look at it in non-existent better light. Its fingers one by one becoming visible and poking and pulling at the bag. It then brought the bag closer to its face and opened it. Then quickly tossed it back to the boy. The boy barely caught it.
(Echo Source)
“I see.”
(Microphone)
The orange light started to rotate faster.
(Echo Source)
“Thats what she meant.”
(Microphone)
The thing started to walk away from the boy, right into the light. The boy stood there, watching the thing get smaller and smaller until it disappeared into the light.
Then reality caught up to him, fast. He was outside the light and the thing that was keeping the creatures away was gone. He tried the dials on his radio again, his hands shaking and slipping on the buttons. The radio, the radio wasn't making any sound. He shook it, hearing the rattling of pieces moving slightly. So he could still hear. He looked closer at the radio, it didn't seem to be broken, but his hands were shaking so much it was all he could do not to drop it. The bones, he had to use the bones. He didn’t know if the bones worked outside the light but he had to try, he held the bones up and waited for the dizziness that felt like closing your eyes and waking up. To find himself sitting on a bench or standing under an orange light. None of that happened. He was still where he was, in the blackness, the void. Only he could still see, his hands at least, the radio, his feet, the bones. All still illuminated by a steady, dim orange glow.
It was the only way.
He ran.
Interruption One
*Click*
(Phone) Noah
Not for the Department, just need to talk.
*Sigh*
I don’t understand this assignment. I didn’t want to say this in front of Meri, but maybe the techs don’t know what they’re talking about with this one. A town that has been around since the 1800s, started as a fish import town and later became a tourist destination and it had no activity up until just a few months ago? It just doesn't make any sense. Now I know that because of our line of work my idea of a ‘normal’ isn’t exactly realistic. But this isn’t supposed to be a normal town. That's why we’re here. It doesn't seem like Meri can find anything either. She has been texting back reports. Well ‘reports’ is giving them a little too much credit. However they are giving me an adequate idea of this town. There's nothing here and the Department is wasting their time. What are we even supposed to be looking for here?
*Low buzz starts*
I know there is a missing person. The techs said that this missing person report triggered a reading. But at this point I have to assume it's a consequence. That they got a false reading. It’s not really our job but the most we can do is start looking for this-
*Sighs in frustration*
Dame it, the light again! Why does it keep flickering like that?
*Door opens*
Meri?
*Click*
Story Two
(Microphone) Narrator One
The audience walked down the one way road. The ocean at their back. The arrows on the ground pointed towards them. All the signs faced the other way.
The trees are bare and the wind is cold. Their breath comes out in clouds. Frost clings to the sparse grass and dirt.
Once they reached the highway, one step away from being able to see the town's welcome sign, they were once again at the ocean. The once bare trees had leaves on them. Purples and reds and oranges, just about ready to fall off. They again began their slow way up the road and from the ocean.
Sometimes they would see a blue light out among all the shining black lights. Sometimes a boy would run along underneath them, dexterously turning them off and on or writing notes. Something a different boy holding a recorder would walk down the street beside them, always towards the ocean, always saying he wasn't lost. Sometimes they would see the other people that roam this place. They murmur only snippets of phrases.
(Echo Source)
“The child sees into the park.”
“The woman knits under a tree.”
“The man picks flowers by the beach.”
(Microphone)
There all stories they have witness. All stories that have now ended and now their only purpose is gone. Most of the time they don’t see an orange light, spinning, rotating, searching. A voice doesn't stand in the light moving, watching, directing. It doesn't watch as people walked around town, observing everyone over and over and over, finding just the right one to add to the story. Most of its chosen don't even notice the blue flickering light.
There's a girl at a book store. No, she works at the book store. Theres a, a girl, shes, theres a. No, that’s, that's the name it gave. She has a name. They all had names. They were people. They are people. Their stories are their own, they didn't know they were being watched, why did the voice want them to be watched.
What was the point of the story?
There isn't an orange light. There was a girl on the pire. The girl would sing to the wind. The lost would gather to hear her, dozens of them. They always left the front seat for them. They knew she was their favorite.
The orange light didn't start rotating faster.
There used to be a girl at the pire. She used to sing.
They have reached the highway a few times now. The falling leaves re-attaching themselves, turning green, shrinking into buds, turning into flowers, snow on the ground, snow falling, falling leaves, leaves back on the trees, over and over and over.
An orange light doesn't watch them. The orange light never watches them. There is no girl at the pire. There is no signing on the wind.
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
They stop by a bench. The leaves of the tree are slowly flithering down. They land on the head, shoulders and book of the old women sitting there. They look at the building beside. A bookstore right on the corner of the street. Stairs lead up to the front door. Inside the lights are a soft glow. Everytime someone opens the door they can feel the slight brush of warm air coming from inside. All the books are neatly placed on the shelves. Every aspect of the bookstore welcomes you inside.
They stay outside. They watched the sun slowly raise over the horizon, washing the street in yellow. They watched morning walkers lazily decide to go inside. They watched a girl sigh as she opens the door. They watch as she waves to the person behind the cash register. They watch as she disappears into the back room, then reappear and start organizing the books. They watch for the majority of the day. An orange light doesn't turn on above them.
(Echo Source)
“You are very fond of testing my patients."
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
A voice doesn't say behind them.
“I am watching.” They say.
(Echo Source)
“You are watching a story that has already been told.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
The voice doesn't say. Less and less people go into the bookstore. Soon there's no one inside beside the two workers.
(Echo Source)
“What interest you so much here?”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
It didn’t say with confusion.
“It’s a beginning.” No one was singing. It wasn’t their favorite story.
The girl was dusting some shelves in front of the window that faced them.
(Echo Source)
“A beginning?”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
The voice didn’t come closer.
(Echo Source)
“I guess that depends on your perspective”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
It didn't glance at the old women sitting on the bench beside them. It didn’t grin as a low buzzing sound started coming from the rustling leaves. More and more of them falling on the old women, she impatiently swept them away from her book.
(Echo Source)
“But a beginning isn’t in of itself interesting.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
The voice didn't stand in front of them blocking their view. It didn't absent mindedly brush its hair away from its eyes. It didn’t roll its sleeves up. It didn’t place its hands on its hips, glancing at the window.
The girl watched the leaves put on a show just for her.
(Echo Source)
“Why do you find this beginning so fascinating?”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
the voice didn’t ask.
“It's important.”
(Echo Source)
“Important enough to watch again and again and again?”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
A single leaf filtered down and landed on the woman's book. She admired how well it fit in the book pages and decided to leave it there as she turned a page.
“Beginning’s are always the most watched part.” They say.
The girl runs out of the bookshop. Her co-worker looks up from his book when he hears the bell above the door ring. He puts away his book quickly and goes after her, his shock showing plainly on his face. The rustling leaves stop as she approached the statue. The wind barely strong enough to blow a few strands of her hair. The voice doesn't walk around the girl, hands behind its back. It doesn't grin at them from over her shoulder.
“Are you okay?” Her co-worker asks. “You flew out of there like someone was chasing you.” The girl stared at the statue. The old woman rolls her eyes.
“A person quietly reading is surely not this interesting.” The woman on the bench says as she turns a page of her book.
(Echo Source)
“You're right, why would you be interesting at all.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
The voice doesn't say. The girl turned to her co-worker eyes wide.
“I, I thought I saw, a book! A book that got left on the bench and I wanted to grab it before the wind blew it away.” The wind started to blow harder. “But, uh, I guess I was wrong.” Her co-worker paused before speaking.
“Okay, well we shouldn't really leave the store unattended and it's really cold out here.” Her co-worker started walking back inside, glancing behind him to make sure she was following.
“Its not cold if you dress appropriately for it.” The old woman says, wrapping her cardigan more tightly around your shoulders. The voice didn't sit on the steps leading up to the bookstore, head in its hands.
(Echo Source)
“So that was it? She didn't even walk under the light!”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
They turn to watch the girl again through the window and caught her surprised expression as she once again looks at the old woman. The girl glanced at her co-worker, her shoulders slubbing. She left the window to do some other task in the bookshop. The old woman picked the leaf that had been in between the pages of her book and let it twirl with the wind.
The voice didn’t leave, it’s coming and going not announced by a rotating orange light.
(Echo Source)
“Why are you still here? The beginning is over. And had a very disappointing end if I might add.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
The voice finally didn’t say.
“Its not over.”
The girl came out of the bookstore, her co-worker following close behind. He locked the door and waved as he walked to his car and drove away. The girl still stood on the top of the steps of the bookstore.
(Echo Source)
“Now is something going to happen?”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
The voice doesn't say impatiently. They watched the girl slowly make her way down the steps. Her skirt slowly swaying in the wind. She sat across the women, the rustle in the leaves started again. The light above the old women started to flicker. The girl rushed towards the women and was gone. The voice didn't stand up and stretch.
(Echo Source)
“Oh! I see laughs ‘the beginning’ indeed. Well after you.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
The voice didn’t bow towards the light
They don’t move. The voice's smile doesn't leave its face.
(Echo Source)
“Oh, so now that were getting to the good part you want to leave?”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
A boy stands up from behind the bench the old woman sits on, his hand leaving the dials he had just been turning. He walks around the bench being careful not to leave the blue light.
“Did she go in?” He asked the old woman, his excitement barely being contained. She rolls her eyes.
“Yes, she went in.”
“Oh perfect! I can't believe it worked! I mean I was pretty sure it was going to work otherwise I wouldn't have done it, but like, first try? This is amazing!”
The voice smiles didn’t grow impossibly wide.
(Echo Source)
“Nevermind,”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
It didn’t say.
(Echo Source)
“looks like the good part is right here.”
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
The voice doesn't start laughing. They strain to listen to the next words the boy says.
“Well, don't want her walking out and getting eaten. I have no idea why thats so many peoples first instinct when they see the creatuers.” Then he was gone.
They were an audience, a perfect audience. They watched, they remembered. They did not have favorites. They only watched the story. They were not supposed to feel anything about it. Not happiness, sadness. A perfect audience. They started to shake. The voice didn't turn to them, a smile not still plastered on its face.
They looked to the voice. The orange light behind it rotating faster and faster. The voice stared at her, titling its head.
Rage.
We feel rage.
Interruption Two
*Phone Click*
(Phone) Meri
Hello Noah! I gotta say I'm so glad we got a more modern place this time. I hate recording into that tape recorder. Like no offence or anything, but it's… kinda blocky? And looks, kinda well
Pause
goofy. Like you pull it off well, like it's a fashion accessory, but I don't know. I like using my phone better. Easier to make it look like a phone call, and I can't make people believe that it's completely natural like you can.
Anyway official documentation starts now!
*Clears Throat*
We are in-
*Static*
I’m from a collage paper and I just wanted to know if there are any spooky fishing stories you know about?-
*Static*
I’m here to research local legends and-
*Static*
Not even a ghost?
*Static*
*Sigh*
Not for the department. Noah, I don't know about this. Not only is this town eerily normal, I don't even think people know about the missing person case. Like a few people recognized the name and noticed he hadn't been around for a while but other than that.
*Pause*
*Sigh*
I don't know, it's not like people can lie to me! But that doesn't mean they were telling the truth. It's just whatever they believe. And well the human mind is very far from perfect.
*Footsteps start to approach*
And you know how it is.
*Low buzz starts*
In any case it's not like we can pack up and leave. Best idea I can come up with is that we actually try and find-
Interrupting (Echo Source) Narrator One
I heard you're looking to find Arlo Thorn?
*PhoneClick*
Story Three
(Microphone) Narrator One
She was alone, completely alone.
Her throat burned and she rubbed it once again trying to soothe it. It was nowhere near as painful as the leg had been. Pain so sharp and sudden she would lose her breath mid song and. Well that wasn’t a problem anymore. Her throat burned again for a different reason, her vision went blurry. Even if she got out of here she would never be able to sing again. She had made absolutely sure of that. She pulled her knees closer to her chest.
Alone.
The creatures had stopped coming to the shore. There used to be so many and now days would pass without seeing a single one. She looked outside the bars of her wooden cage. There was a bench across the water that faced her. It was directed at the pire, not the ocean. A front row seat to her. Someone used to watch her there. She only saw them a few times but they must have come often. Often enough for that thing to show up. For that thing to use her as leverage? A promise? A threat? It had called the watching person an audience. She guesses that made sense. They had been her audience for a long time. But so had the creatures. To think of those things as an audience sent a shudder down her spine. No, they were human eating monsters. They weren't looking for a show, they were looking for their next meal.
Then why weren't they here now? She leaned her head back. The boredom was the worst part. The endless thinking. Nothing to break it up. Not the noticeable movement of days, not eating, not even sleep, not anymore. About the time she realised she didn't need to eat she realised she didn't need to sleep either and now her body just couldn't. Now even the pain was gone, her one last thing that actually changed. Now it was just silence. Black and white and grey.
A flicker to her side. She turned her head expecting one of the creatures to be back after such a long absence.
It wasn’t one of the creatures.
One of the street lights on the pire across from her had turned off. She strainted her eyes trying to see it better. That pire had been around longer than the one she was on. It was wide and strong, strong enough for cars to drive on it. Not that that happened often. It just ended at the ocean. She stood up, still wobbly from how easily she was able to do that. She leaned over the rail trying to get a better look.
The lights never turned off. Turned blue, yes, very rarely, but off? The lack of the shining black light turned her stomach. It was change. It was something new. Something was moving slowly down the road. It came into view more clearly as it went under the now off streetlight. The black silhouette contrasting against the white night. It looked like one of the creatures in that all the creatures had been blurry silhouettes and didn't need the blue light. This one though. It was different. It didn't glitch as it walked, didn't speed up and then slow down. Moving forward and back, like a corrupted VHS tape. The silhouette was slow but it was steady, prise, solid. As it approached the next streetlight it too flickered and died. The light behind the silhouette flickered back on. The girl watched this strange new silhouette as it made its slow way under three more lights like this. It was getting closer to the ocean. Would it turn around? Stop at the edge? Or…
A strong wind blew from the ocean. She instinctively turned her head away from the sting salt spray. There was a bench that faced her. One that now was always empty. One that at this moment had an audience sitting on it their head turned to the other pire. Her chest tightened. Her mind rapidly putting pieces together. Things she had seen, others that she had heard. All leading to one conclusion, if the audience was here, there was something worth watching.
The girl quickly looked back to the silhouette now only a dozen or so steps away from the fence that separated them from the ocean.
Something worth watching.
The silhouette stopped and put something down on a picnic table near it. It was small, barely bigger than their hand. Then they ran, jumping over the low fence. The girl tried to yell, even if there had been sound in his place her damaged throat would have stopped her. This silhouette had been a person, a real person. Not like the creatures or the figure or even the audience. Real. A person that could be outside the blue light. And they had just jumped into the cold, white ocean. They fell. When they hit the ocean the water rose and swallowed the silhouette.
Something worth watching.
The girl didn't want to look away from the ocean, didn’t want to miss if, when the person resurfaced. The fall wasn't that far, they had to be fine.
Something worth watching.
She risked a glance at the bench that faced her.
Empty.
Her knees grew weak and she collapsed to the ground. She struggled to breathe. Had she just witnessed someone die? A person. When was the last time she had seen a real person? An image of writing on black paper with white lead came to her mind. It really had been that long. A light passed over her.
Orange.
She kneaded looking through the bars of the cage. A figure. The figure. A white silhouette followed by a flickering orange light. Not flickering. From this angle she was now able to see that the light was rotating from a point that she couldn't see, hidden behind the buildings. It was a strong light, much stronger than it would seem. She had looked right at that light but with how far it reached she didn't understand how she had been able to see . The figure walked down the same path the person had, only going a little faster. The rotating orange light was illuminating more and more of the road and buildings and ocean. Except the light would stop at a point in the ocean, just a little after the pire she was on ended. Like it was shining on a wall. She looked back just i n time to see the figure pick up the object the person had left on the table. The orange light started to rotate faster and faster. Then the orange light and the figure were gone. Between one blink and the next. She lay down on the floor looking up at the black stars and wished not for the first time that she could just fall asleep.
Interruption Three
Rotating Low Buzz
Blue Jay Walker "Everybody Thinks They're The One To Get Away”
‘I knew a killer with a shark tooth grin,
You look twice he’ll do you in
But he ain’t worried
Mama taught him how to pray’
Story Four
(Bad Overhead Speaker) Narrator One
She lay in her bed long after she was supposed to be asleep. What was going on with that boy? With what happened to her, the statue moving, the other dimension, the creatures. Trillions of possibilities now seemed feasible to her. She debated on whether he might be a ghost. The disappearing and reappearing made sense, as well as how shocked he was when she told him the date. But then there was the matter with the hoodie. She had gotten it out of the dryer when she got home. Folding it neatly and putting it inside her work bag so she wouldn't forget it tomorrow.
Could ghosts give you pieces of clothing? Compared to everything else it didn't seem that out there. And it had been cold when she had put it on. Like the boy didn't produce any body heat at all. But he had saved her before that. He had grabbed her wrist and pulled her back from the light. Surely a ghost couldn't do that. She shook her head. Maybe a ghost could. Everything she knew about ghosts was what everyone else knew about ghosts. Top of the list being that they have never been proven to exist. So what if everything else was wrong too? Okay, so what was the main thing that defined a ghost as a ghost?
(Phone Click)
(Phone)
He would need to be dead
(Phone Click)
(Bad Overhead Speaker)
A shudder passed through her body. Dead. He would have to be dead. She sat up in her bed and looked at the time on her phone.
11:58pm
She fell back onto the bed. She was going to be so tired at work tomorrow. She picked her phone back up and typed in the name of the town then ‘deaths’. She narrowed down the search from before 1999, as that seemed to be the last date the boy remembered. She narrowed it down further by looking only for people between the ages of 15 and 18. She wasn't surprised to not find that many. One that had died in a car accident and the other in hospital. Neither even close to looking like the boy. She tried to expand her search. Looking for missing persons, bigger date range, bigger age range. Nothing.
12:34am.
How else could someone get information on someone she barely knew? School records. He had to have gone to school right? She didn't think that was something she could get from an internet search though. Would the library have stuff like that? Then another thought, what if she could find someone that remembered him? Maybe he was a run-away, maybe she should go to the police.
1:16am.
She plugged her phone back in and put it back on the night stand. Go to the library? The police? With what time? Whatever was going on with this boy was his business. She hadn’t wanted anything to do with it. If it hadn't been for that stupied hoodie she would have already forgotten about the moving statue, the blue light and the creatures. Just like the boy said, most people do. After tomorrow she would never have to think about it again. It would become a distance memory, a dream, something that never happened.
1:46am.
She picked up her phone again and looked up when the library closed tomorrow.
Outro
(AM Radio) Narrator One
Nothing is on top of the roof. No street light, no orange light. We don't like to be observed. We are an audience. Stories aren't about us. We aren't a part of it, we only watch.
It watches too.
We stand for a long time, we know its getting board,
Its on the
Its under
Its,
Its.
We stand for a long time. We're getting restless. We stand still. We need to watch. We need to know what happened.
A boy under blue light. A boy under blue light that only the girl and the boy could see. It was day, the street lights were not on. The blue light flickered around him. He talked to a statue of an old woman reading a book. The girl watches but could not hear. She watched for a long time. We stand not moving. We can go no further. The boy had finished his conversation. The boy had stood up, patted the woman's head and stepped into the light. Disappearing like he had stepped behind a door. The girl had gone home then. She had felt eyes on her the whole way. The boy under the blue light had not followed her.
We move forward. Time free for us to walk again.
It, it grins.
There's nothing on the roof.
She moves down the street, towards her home. We follow, watching, listening, remembering.
It can watch us.
It's the only one that can.
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 is voiced by cakebird
Noah Ashford 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
For updates follow us on Instagram, Bluesky or Youtube under Lanterns Aura
Tumblr under Blue flickering Streetlight
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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!
After Credits
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