Episode 2: The Boy Under Blue Light
CONTENT WARNING: general unease, distorted voices, unreality
TRIGGER WARNING: Description of blood, Humanoid eating human flesh (Pseudo cannibalism)
Transcript
Intro
(Radio) Narrator One
You never noticed the buzzing before. You walk down this street almost every night, around the same time. You've just come back from school. You had forgotten your earbuds this morning, so you had spent a very long and boring bus ride to school and back.
The buzzing wasn't loud enough to be heard over any music that usually played through your earbuds. Not like a car or a person talking would. That must be why you missed it before.
At first you thought that it was the electric wires that hung above the street. Night was always very quiet.
(Phone Click)
(Phone) Narrator Two
This town goes to sleep early.
(Phone Click)
(Radio) Narrator One
But as you walk closer to your street the buzzing starts to get louder.
A seed of anxiety starts to grow in your head.
What if this is not normal?
What if there's an exposed wire somewhere?
You start to walk more carefully, even pulling out your phone's flashlight to see the ground more clearly. There wasn't many street lights here to light your way.
The closest one to you now was-
There.
That's where the buzzing was the loudest. A transformer high on a telephone pole, a streetlight hanging off of it. It's the one right in front of your house.
You let out a sigh of relief. You had been right the first time. It was normal, it was just the transformer. It probably made that noise all the time, it was just too noisy during the day to hear it and you have earbuds in when you come home at night. You turn off the flashlight on your phone and go inside your house.
You're so relieved that you figured out what the noise was that you don't notice that the street light was flickering.
Intro Music
Story Pt.One
(Bad Overhead Speaker) Narrator One
He knew it was an obsession, one that he called love or a passion, but obsession is what it was. It wasn't for a boy or a girl or another. It was for an idea. One he had to prove right. It was a silly idea, a dangerous one. One that was based on nothing really. There wasn't some magic text, or myth or legends about it. He had completely based it off one thing and then he discovered it was true.
He saw a street light flicker to blue.
‘Why would a street light do that?’ He thought as he ran to be underneath it.. The street light in front of him had turned back to a light orange glow, only enough to see the street right underneath it. All the houses around it had no light on to compete with it. The road had barely any cars during the day let alone this time of night. The boy stared up at the light, standing directly underneath it. The light was definitely there, steady and orange. The boy blinked a few times then shut his eyes completely. Rubbing them. It was a low light, but it probably still wasn’t the best to stare straight into it. He blinked a couple more times, his eyes still stinging.
When he opened his eyes back up, the light around him had gone. He looked back up at the light. Yup, definitely off. He looked to the other lights on the street. Those were all still on. Maybe the light was just dying. He sighed, he was hoping it was a little more exciting than that.
He started to walk away, head looking at the ground and noticed it was tinted blue, then back to dark, then blue then back to dark. Faster and faster until it was just barely noticeable that it was flickering. So the light hadn’t died. Out of instinct he looked above at the light again.
And he saw
(Microphone) Narrator One
The boy leaned against the road that stretched far into the sky. Houses, telephone poles, trees, plants and cars sticking to the side of it like mushrooms on a tree trunk. His head felt like it had water in it as he looked down at his feet to see what he was standing on. A wave raged up and crashed down as he realized he was standing on nothing. The road continued below him as it did above. Stretching into nothing. He scrambled to grab the streetlight behind him. As he clung to it he realized he had rolled to grab it, not jumped.
The world snapped back into place. He had fallen down on the road. He tried to sit up and waves raged in his head again. He touched the spot on his head where he had hit the road, it came back sticky, the red stark against his skin.
His completely shadowed skin, like he was a silhouette puppet
He sat up fast then, ignoring the dizziness that came with it. The waves in his head were raging. The light surrounding him was blue and flickering. Everything around him had changed. All that had been dark before was now light and everything that was light was now darkness. It was like looking at a black and white photograph, except the inverse of one.
He thought about how you don't really notice how dark those kinda photos are until you see the inverse. How much black and dark grays there is, now all that was shades of white. He must have hit his head pretty hard for it to be messing with his vision this badly. There still weren't any lights in any of the buildings but because of the inverse colour effect it looked like every house had come to life. As if every one of them was having a silent party. It was obviously still night but the sky above was white, lighting nothing. He could feel his eye desperately trying to adjusted.
It was fascinating.
There was no way it was him hitting his head that was messing with his vision this badly. A concoction couldn't explain all of this.
It had to be something else. He rose shakily to his feet. If it wasn’t his vision, what else could it be?
He grinned.
Something had finally happened to him. Something exciting. Something, he breathed a sigh of relief, he could actually handle.
Alien invasion? He might survive that, definitely wouldn't be remembered though.
Zombie apocalypse? Definitely not.
A world war? He shook his head at the very thought, too mundane and he definitely would not survive.
But this, a mystery, one that he got to explore and discover. Be the expert on the rules. He shook with excitement. He looked around really trying to see what was happening around him. It wasn’t dark, like it was at night. But it was just as hard to see.
There was movement far in the distance, something that was avoiding the blue light that was coming from a streetlight a couple blocks down. It was shaped like a person and moved like a person. But it didn't seem real. It was shadowed just like he was. But it was like watching an old film, one that was decaying. The silhouette would flicker and disappear, then reappear a few steps ahead or behind where it was. The only thing visible on it was two holes on its face that the boy took for eyes.
He watched it, trying to focus his eyes on it. He couldn't tell if it was his eyes making the silhouette unclear or if it was just unclear. The boy thought about calling out to it, but this silhouette, no matter how human it looked, clearly was not. It drew closer, it was only then that the boy started to get nervous, did it mean to do him harm? What if it was stronger? Did it have powers? Abilities? Could it kill him? Did it want to? He didn’t know this place. Not really, not how it was now. When the light was orange he lived not too far away. He had been walking back home, had been so close to home. But he wasn't sure if it was the same here. And even if it was, he didn't want this thing to follow him there.
The silhouette was getting closer, it was almost possible to make out details, a tuft of hair, what fabric its clothing could have been, the shape of its face. The lines would appear, then become unclear again, like adjusting the zoom on a camera. The boy thought maybe his earlier assumptions were wrong. Maybe this thing was human. Maybe this is what he looked like to it. The boy started to feel more relaxed, maybe he could even talk to it. Just as he was about to call a greeting the silhouette locked eyes with him, and grinned. The grin grew wider and wider, more and more teeth appearing. Normal square human teeth but way more than any human could ever have.
The boy backed up into the street light. He could run, he should run. But the thought of the grinning thing chasing him rooted him in place. Where would he even go. What if this was the only street light that could bring him back. He could get lost. The boy decided he would wait for whatever the silhouette did. He was scared, but he was also very curious.
The silhouette lunged at him, he brought his arms up bracing for impact.
None came.
The silhouette clawed at the light like it was a solid thing. It mashed its teeth, no sound escaping its mouth. The boy went right up to the light, the silhouette following his every movement. Maybe it was solid from both sides. The boy raised his right hand up to the light. The creature focused on it, clawing the light around it. The boy then struck his left hand out fast through the light. It passed through easily.
The silhouette, however, was faster.
The boy took a deep breath in, his nose filled with a copper smell, pain shot through his arm, radiating from it. He looked at his hand. His left pinky was missing. Red blood dripped starkly over his shadow-like hand. He looked at the silhouette, its many teeth were also stained red. He screamed as the silhouette begane to chew.
The shock must have been strong because he couldn’t hear anything, even as he watched the skin rip and the bones crack in the silhouette’s mouth.
Apply pressure! Apply pressure!
His mind screamed at him. With this and the head wound it was getting harder to stay standing. He pressed his right hand over top of his left, trying to stop the bleeding. He slumped to the ground, his back resting on the street light. The silhouette was still chewing his finger, grinning at him on the other side of the light. He had to find a way back. His head was getting fuzzy. The light had to be the way back. His eyes blinked slowly. He needed the light to turn back to orange. He started up at it. The slight movement sent his head swimming. His eyes closed fully, just for a moment.
(Bad Overhead Speaker) Narrator One
The movement of his head dropping to his shoulder woke him again. His eyes adjusted back to the darkness around him, the colors had returned back to normal.
The light above was a steady orange glow.
Interruption One
(Bad Overhead Speaker) Narrator One
There's a stage in the park by the ocean. It was small, shaped like a half dome.
Sometimes bands played in it during town wide events
Sometimes it was sunny
Sometimes it was warm enough for a walk in the park
The town built it. It was a nice addition. Made to be nice to look at. A thing to look forward to.
Most of the time it stood empty.
Most of the time it rained.
Most of the time it was too cold for outside events.
It was warm on the stage, out of the wind and rain.
The stage is a perfect place to watch the story.
Story Pt.Two
(Bad Overhead Speaker) Narrator One
He sat in the local library surrounded by old newspapers. Going as far back as when the street lights were installed in most of the city. Their installation was in the paper of course, they were a little bit of a novelty. But nothing wired happened. No death, sketchy manufacturers, or shady deals to get them installed. Nothing. Just a town using tax money for what it's supposed to be used for.
After learning that, he had searched other newspapers for any strange incidents. People disappearing, complaints about the street lights not working, fast moving silhouettes that ate human flesh. Still nothing.
Statistically he wasn't the first, he couldn't be. This town had been around for a decently long time, since the late 1800. The lights had been here only a little after that. But if he was the first, what could that mean? Maybe it was something more recently done to the street lights.
That led to a deadend as well, the lamps in the street lights hadn't been changed in at least two decades, and there was nothing suspicious surrounding that light bulb change either.
The boy was stumped. Maybe it was something more ancient than the lights, and it was just manifesting itself that way.
Still nothing! No local legends, ghost stories, not even a weird crime.
What was going on here?
Maybe you're imagining it. The logical part of his brain said. You fell pretty hard, it could have all been fake. At this point he would have started to believe the voice in his head. The doubt. He held his left hand in this right, almost subconsciously rubbing the pinky he could no longer feel. The prosthetic was awkward to move and smooth to the touch, the opposite of the rest of his hand. The look on that doctor's face when he and his mom walked through that door. Him concoused and missing a finger, his mother trying desperately to stay calm but looked ready to start sewing up his finger herself. It didn’t help that he couldn't stop smiling or that while they were gluing his head back together and they asked him what had happened in his disoriented state he told the truth. They concluded that an animal must have bitten it off while he had still been unconscious from the fall. What kind of animal would have only bit off a finger they didn't know. Or what animal would have such square teeth. They gave him a rabies shot, just to be safe.
He stacked the newspapers back up, putting them back in order as best he could. He rubbed his eyes, a whole weekend day wasted and he wasn't any closer to answers. There was something he was missing, he was sure of it. Weird things like this didn't just appear.
Well, he thought, he guessed they could. Fine, if he was the first then he had to go about it like a scientist. He smiled to himself, this is what he wanted anyway. He put back on the light blue hoddie his mother insisted he wear outside instead of a lab coat, and left the library. He almost ran home. If he was going to be a real scientist, he needed to run some experiments. And if he was going to do that he needed a notepad and pen.
Interruption Two
Sounds of someone turning the dials of a radio between stations, Voices are heard, Radio becomes clear
(Bit of “Everybody Thinks Their The One To Get Away” By Blue Jay Walker)
‘But he’s your friend and he’s mine too. And he's gonna do what he say gonna do, It’s a shame every promise that he made was a fake.’
Story Pt.Three
(Bad Overhead Speaker) Narrator One
He stood staring at the streetlight. Its light was steady, orange, and dim. He stood, notebook in hand, pen posed to write at any second. He stood, his smile slowly falling off his face. He stood as a car almost hit him, breaking his eye contact for precious moments. He stood as his hands began to cramp. His stomach started to rumble. The night really started to set in, cold even in his soft hoddie
He sighed and walked right under the street light. He hadn't wanted to get this close. He didn't want to be sucked into that other world again so soon. He needed to understand more first. Like how regularly the lights changed. His conclusion so far was "very rare". Based on the lack of events in the newspaper and other supernatural stuff that happened around town, which was zero. There wasn’t even a haunting.
He had to run on the assumption that it wasn't something that only happened once. If it was, nothing would happen and he was wasting his time. If that wasn’t the case, and it could happen again, what were the factors that led to it?
He sat down at the base of the streetlight. Being a scientist was harder than he thought. Especially when he wasn't even sure what field this would be considered. It was probably some type of fringe science. Something that would have books in the mythical section rather than the science one.
Okay, what had been the conditions of the previous time? He thought.
Night, obviously, not raining, about 8-10 degrees celsius, warm for a spring night, it was spring. As these thoughts came to him he started to write them on his notepad, including today's day and the date of the first incident. He paused, the pen waitting to write more. He struggled to think of any other factors. He stared at the light above him. It stubbornly stayed dim, steady and orange.
What had he been doing that night? He started to write again, bullet points down the page.
He had been walking home.
He had been walking home from a friend's house.
It was late, night, obviously.
He knew he was going to get in trouble when he got home because it was a school night, he was supposed to have been back before it got dark and…
He looked at the last note and scratched it out. He didn't think scientists were supposed to talk about their feelings in notes.
He looked up from the notepad at the streetlight on the other end of the street and the light after and the light after. That night, he hadn't been paying too much attention to this light specifically until it suddenly turned blue and then back to orange. He had been mostly looking at the ground. Only looking up when…
He had heard static. That's why he had looked up from the ground. Not loud, or sharp, but like when you're in a room that was very quiet and your brain makes up things for you to hear.
White noise.
Only it was so out of place on an open street. That's when the light started flickering. He couldn't believe he had forgotten that noise. He scribbled one last note.
Static. Underlining it three times.
He stopped and considered writing down what happened after. What happened after the light had changed. What that other place was like. What happened while he was there.
No, he didn't need to write that down yet. He wanted his notepad to be organized. He wasn't there yet in his experiments.
He rubbed his left pinky. Left hand in right. The phantom pain was leaving as quickly as it came. Maybe the static was a trigger. He thought, distracting himself. Or it could be a warning. Whichever it was he needed to figure out what caused it, what makes it and why.
White Noise definitely wasn't the weirdest thing he had asked the librarian about
. . .
White noise,
defined by the dictionary as "noise containing many frequencies with equal intensities." Admittedly, it wasn't the definition he had been expecting. The boy didn't really know what he had been expecting, but that definition was so, underwhelming. He thought about the noise that happens when you put the radio dial between stations. Low buzzing, sometimes with pieces of music or voices. Almost recognizable. But frustrating to place. He thought about the physical white noise that happened on the tv. White and gray and black moving quickly yet so still. Like snow. The tingling that you would get on your fingers if you touched the screen. The pop of it turning it off. It had sounded like neither. Not exactly. There wasn't much in the library about white noise, unsurprisingly. There was lots about radio and tv, surprisingly. The make, history, inventors, how they work. He was wasting time, he knew. These books were not what he was looking for. They were not what he needed to know. How did one describe a sound with words? Searchable words. Key words. He couldn't even really describe it to himself. White noise like on the radio, the buzz with no voices or songs, only different buzz, not like the radio. Static, sharp, made your fingers tingle. But not like the tv, not white, black and gray. If he had to describe it with a color it would have said orange and blue. But he was sure there was some very obvious bias with that choice. It sounded like being in an empty room. He remembered writing that down. That felt right. When it was so quiet in a room your brain starts making up noises. Like you could hear the electricity running through the walls.
Electricity.
He put down the book he had been reading on radio waves and if humans could hear them moving through the air (they could not).
He left the stack of books on the ground and almost ran out of the library, much to the disapproval of the librarian.
When he got outside he did start running. It was still day, wouldn't be dark enough for street lights for hours. He was sure the noise would be though. Electrically running through the streetlight wires. A low buzz, high pitched, staticy, sharp made your fingers tingle. Made you think of the colours orange and blue.
Interruption Three
(Distorted) Narrator One
So the audition went well?
(Microphone) The Girl On The Pire
Yeah, sure, I guess
(Microphone) Narrator One
The black haired girl said
(Distorted) Narrator One
What do you mean 'I guess'?
(Microphone) Narrator One
The black haired girl stopped eating. She wasn't really sure what she meant by it. On one hand she felt like it had gone very well. Her best even. On the other hand she knows that everyone else was better. They were the literal best. She didn't even know why she was there in the first place.
(Distorted) Narrator One
Well?
(Microphone) The Girl On The Pire
I mean, I think I did well, but I won't know what role I got ‘till monday.
(Microphone) Narrator One
If she got a role at all she thought.
(Distorted) Narrator One
Mm, well when you do know be sure to tell me
(Microphone) The Girl On The Pire
Sure
(Microphone) Narrator
The black haired girl continued to eat.
(Distorted) Narrator One
What was the play anyway?
(Microphone) Narrator One
She paused her food half way to her mouth. It was a musical, she thought, she signed up because she wanted to sing a very specific song from it. What was the name again? Why couldn't she remember the name of the musical she had practiced for weeks for?
(Microphone) The Girl On The Pire
I, I don't
(Microphone) Narrator One
She stammered.
(Distorted) Narrator One
Oh! I've heard of that one! Even if you don't get in would you still want to go see?
(Microphone) The Girl On The Pire
I-
(Microphone) Narrator One
She couldn't remember what food she had been eating. When she looked at her fork it was an unrecognizable blob.
(Distorted) Narrator One
Oh, come on don't be like that, sure it'll be sad not to be in it but at least we could enjoy a show
(Microphone) Narrator One
She couldn't remember who she was talking to. The person across from her was a stranger, as unfamiliar to her as a face in a crowd.
(Distorted) Narrator One
Fine, fine, have it your way. Well go to something else that night then, to get your mind off of it.
(Microphone) Narrator One
She couldn’t remember where she was. A house? A restaurant? Maybe outside? There was a roaring in her ears. It was getting louder and louder. The chatting of the stranger becoming white noise.
(Distorted) Narrator One
Do you remember your name?
(Microphone) Narrator One
Waves, slow and clam. They lapped under the dock beneath her. She felt the wood under her foot and hands.
Solid.
Real.
Then the silence comes back.
Story Pt.Four
(Bad Overhead Speaker) Narrator One
He had been right, there was a noise here. It was different than when the light had turned blue, of course it was, he didn't think he would get that lucky, especially during the day. But there was a noise. With the sun out, it was obvious what it was. There was a transformer on this streetlight. Dozens of wires going in and out of it. Something so normal and common that he had never noticed it or the noise it made before. The noise was just the low buzz, none of the static, the sharpness. It was also very quiet, not like white noise where it filled a whole room till there was no sound at all. Just quiet.
The boy had no idea how he would change the noise. He was all for risk in the name of science, but electrocuting himself recklessly seemed like a very stupid and forgettable way to go.
He slumped at the bottom of the streetlight. He didn't even know if the noise had anything to do with the blue light. There was a noise there, he could have amplified it in his mind, made it more important than it actually was. The things he had been reading about in the library started to swim around in his head. How radio waves work, what tv static actually was, frequencies, signals, low waves, hi waves, receivers, pitch.
Maybe he didn't have to get the transformer to make the noise.
Maybe the trigger was the noise itself. He padded his pockets and checked his bag.
He sighed. He left it at home. He sat under the streetlight debating if it would be easier to just buy a new one. The biggest con of this plan was of course that he didn't have the money to buy another one. He got up slowly, stretched and started on his way home. He thought of how he could sneak into his room, without his mom seeing him
…
It was very late by the time he was able to sneak out again. His mom demanded why he hadn't been at school, where he'd been. Definitely not believing he had been at the library. ‘With your grades I don't think you have ever opened a textbook.’ She had said. He tried to tell her that he had in fact opened a textbook, just not ones the school had assigned. But she then started accusing him of running off with a girlfriend and he had no idea how to tell her how wrong she was about that.
She had sent him to his room, telling him not to come out till he was done with his homework. He knew she would come up with dinner as a sort of apology. And he would say thank you and she would take it as forgiveness. It was a routine they had.
Sneaking out was always easier than sneaking in. He was probably going to have to crash at his friend's place again. His friend would probably be annoyed, but it was better than waking his mother.
He had stood at this spot often now. Staring at the streetlight. The steady orange glow. He took the portable radio out of his pocket. He extended the antenna and pointed it at the light. Like it was a laser, like it would make the light get the sound better. In actuality, it was probably making the signal worse. He spun the volume wheel all the way up and turned the radio on. Loud rock music played through the speakers. He quickly spun the volume wheel down. He glanced around to see if anyone was looking at him through the windows. There wasn't anyone that he could see.
He turned the wheel up a little, just so he could hear. He slowly spun the tuning wheel, static, voices, static, voices. He listens closely to the quality of it. How sharp, how low the buzz, how it filled a room. How well it harmonizes with the electric sound of orange and blue.
Static, voices, static, voices, static, white noise.
It filled the empty space of the street, spreading like gas. He didn't even need to turn the volume up. Low buzz, sharp, static, made you think of orange and blue electricity. The street light turned off, then on, then off, then turned on, blue, flickering just enough to be noticeable.
"Yes!" The boy yelled, thrusting his arms in the air. He had done it. It hadn't been a dream, he hadn't imagined it.
He wasn't crazy. He stared at the flickering blue light, safely out of reach. A real scientist would go in. Confirm the other part of his experience.
He turned off the radio. The streetlight turned off, flickering blue, then turned to a steady orange glow. He put the radio in his pocket and started walking to his friend's house.
It was a school night after all.
Interruption Four
(Outside, wind, the metal squeak of a swing going back and forth. Footsteps on gravel, pacing. Walking stops.)
(Microphone) Narrator One
It’s not working as intended
(Static)
Story Pt.Five
(Bad Overhead Speaker) Narrator One
“You should write a book.” His best friend said, “like it's a pretty epic concept, I'd read it for sure.”
She sat cross-legged on her bed. He sat on her desk chair.
Phone it was very late at night
He sighed and looked away from her.
“So you don't believe me.” Of course she didn't believe him. When he had come to school with a missing pinky he told her the real story then too. She had brushed it off saying ‘it's good you come up with a better story then “fell down and had my finger eaten by a cat.” Cause that's super lame.’
She had then punched his arm and laughed.
But now he could prove it! All she had to do was come outside. There was a street light right in front of her house. Of course he wasn't sure if it worked on every street light yet. In fact it was more likely that it was only the street light near his house. But there was no way He was going to convince her to walk all the way there this late at night. He glanced at all the posters covering her walls. For someone who listened to so many rock bands she sure was a stickler for the rules.
“Just come outside, like just in front of your house. If your mom sees, we can just say I felt ill and needed fresh air.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Yeah after we explain why you're here in the first place, again. She's going to start questioning why I put so many boy clothes in the laundry.”
The boy made a point to stare at her closet then back to her. Her whole wardrobe was dedicated to looking as much like a rock star as possible. graphics tees with the sleeves cut off, black jeans, jean vest, flat shoes.
“All your clothes are already boy clothes, at least mine are normal.”
“You would wear a lab coat everywhere if your mother wouldn't burn it if she found out.”
There was a pause and then.
“Ugh! Fine! But if I get grounded I'm never talking to you again.”
“That supposed to be a bad thing?” The boy said with a grin. She got up from the bed and shoved him lightly off the chair.
“Just try to be quiet.”
“I know, I know.”
The both of them walked out of her room and slowly made their way down one flight of stairs then another. The layout was almost the same as his house. Hers was just a mirrored version. Cookie cutter houses. With only an inkling of uniqueness.
Her mother's room was on the main floor. Near both the back and front door. He was glad his mother had decided to take the top floor, so he got the whole basement.
Getting to the door was fine, it was opening it that was the problem. It had a heavy metal lock that during the day made a satisfying click. At night it was like a loud announcement that they were doing something they weren’t supposed to.
They pulled on their shoes quickly, trying very hard not to look at each other as the tension was making it harder and harder not to laugh. She grabbed the lock and twisted it slowly, it didn't help when the lock finally clicked out of place, but it felt like it did.
They both stood still listening, no rusler of bed covers, no footsteps. The boy turned the knob and opened the door just enough for both of them to slip through. The night was quiet. Not even a breeze. She closed the door behind them slowly. They stood there for a minute listening once again. For a curtain to open, a pull at the door. There was nothing. Her mother stayed asleep.
They walked to the street light in silence, not wanting their voices to be the reason they got caught. She looked at the streetlight then to him then back to the street light then raised an eyebrow.
The buzzing. The low buzzing wasn't there. He pulled out his notebook and showed it to her pointing at his notes on white noise. The frequencies, the electricity, the noise. The first part wasn't here.
She shook her head not understanding, she pointed to the radio in his pocket. He brought the notes closer.
“We have to go to the one outside my house.” He whispered
“No!” She hissed “I agreed to go outside my house, we can’t walk to yours. What's wrong?”
“The buzzing isn't here.”
“I thought the buzzing was from the radio.”
“Only part of it, I thought maybe it would work here, I didn't realize it wouldn't be the same.” He had realized he just had hoped he had been wrong.
“Well what do we do now?”
He grabbed her arm and started walking them towards his house.
“We have to go to the other light, it'll work there, promise.” She yanked her arm away from his. He held firm.
“Let go!” She was yelling. They were too close to the front door. Her mom was going to hear. He covered her mouth with his hand. Her mom was going to wake up. She tried to pull back. He gripped her tighter. Her mom was going to be mad at them, and he didn't have anywhere else to go.
She bit him, hard.
He let go immediately. She spat blood from her mouth.
“What the hell are you trying to do?” She wasn't yelling, But she wasn't being quite either.
“I, uh, I-i just wanted you to believe me.”
The lights from her moms bedroom turned on.
“Go home.”
He nodded, there was no point in saying he couldn't.
“I’m sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you.”
“We'll talk about it at school tomorrow.” Then a pause “See you.”
She walked back to her front door, not bothering to be sealthly this time. He could see her mother standing there. She started to explain as she closed the door.
He turned and started walking down the street.
She didn't see him at school the next day, or the one after that, or the one after that, or the one after that, or the one after that, or the one after that, or the one after that, or the one after that…
Outro
(Radio) Narrator One
It's an audience, an audience of one.
It watches a show performed only for itself.
It watches.
It remembers.
It can exist in many places. Many times.
It is an audience of only one.
It is a perfect audience. It understands completely what the Author wants it to know.
It watches.
It remembers.
The story is only for it, this audience, this audience of one.
It witnesses the story, it can not interfere with it.
It watches.
It remembers.
It's an audience, an audience of one.
Outro Music
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
Narrator two is voiced by cakebird
The Girl At The Pier is voiced by Bunny
“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
Twitch and Tik Tok under UltearLight
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
(Radio)
Orange Orange, Blue Blue, Blue Blue Blue, Blue Blue Blue, Blue Blue, Orange Blue, Orange Orange Blue
Blue Blue Blue, Blue Blue, Orange Blue, Orange Blue Orange Blue, Blue
Blue Orange Orange Orange Orange, Orange Orange Orange Orange Blue, Orange Orange
Orange Blue Blue, Blue Blue Blue Orange Orange
