Speaker 1: Lighthouse is a production of I Heart Radio and bamfor Productions.
Speaker 1: Thirteen years passed since my father died. Thirteen years since
Speaker 1: something had worked its way into his soul and tried
Speaker 1: to kill my family using his face as a disguise.
Speaker 1: Thirteen years I lived with the pain of knowing that
Speaker 1: I wasn't strong enough to stop him. Though the mental
Speaker 1: anguish has lingered, I got off easy compared to my family.
Speaker 1: My mother thankfully survived her fall from the second story. However,
Speaker 1: she struck her spine in such a way that she
Speaker 1: was confined to a wheelchair. She hadn't lost all mobility
Speaker 1: of her legs, but enough of it where she could
Speaker 1: no longer walk on her own. My sister suffered injuries
Speaker 1: from the shot gum blasts, but was still able to walk,
Speaker 1: albeit with a limp. But the emotional torment of taking
Speaker 1: our father's life, especially in such a brutal way, had
Speaker 1: taken its toll on her. In many ways. She had
Speaker 1: reverted to a more childlike state, a ten year old
Speaker 1: stuck in a late twentysomething's body. I stayed with my
Speaker 1: mother and Leni for as long as I could poss
Speaker 1: please stand it. At first, I tried to convince my
Speaker 1: mother to leave, to sell lighthouse and get as far
Speaker 1: away as humanly possible, but she refused for some reason.
Speaker 1: She was determined to make it work and keep the
Speaker 1: house that she yearned so desperately for. However, for me,
Speaker 1: staying in the house became too much. Seeing them every
Speaker 1: day reminded me of that night, of the terror I felt,
Speaker 1: of how sure I was that my life was going
Speaker 1: to end. The ghosts roaming the halls were quiet for
Speaker 1: some time, the darkness is hunger sated, but it wasn't
Speaker 1: long before they returned. I left as soon as I
Speaker 1: was able to. A part of me felt like I
Speaker 1: was a horrible person, abandoning my family during a time
Speaker 1: that they needed me the most. But staying around lighthouse
Speaker 1: wallowing and misery as the world just passed by it
Speaker 1: was not how I wanted to spend the rest of
Speaker 1: my life. Hiding out from the leering gaze of ghosts
Speaker 1: and shadow creatures was not something I wanted my world
Speaker 1: to solely consist of. By the time the first anniversary
Speaker 1: of my father's death came around, I had packed up
Speaker 1: and gone. At first, I still came to visit, to
Speaker 1: see and care for my mother and my sister to
Speaker 1: make sure they were okay. But soon my visits became
Speaker 1: less and less frequent, until they stopped altogether. Instead, the
Speaker 1: telephone was my only connection left to Lighthouse, and even
Speaker 1: then I rushed off the phone as soon as I
Speaker 1: possibly could. Even just listening to them depressed me and
Speaker 1: brought back too many bad memories. Thirteen years passed since
Speaker 1: my father tried to kill us, but it was almost
Speaker 1: ten since I had laid eyes on my mother, or
Speaker 1: my sister, or even my old home. I thought that
Speaker 1: this was finally it. I had severed my connection to
Speaker 1: that place of madness once and for all, and I
Speaker 1: would finally be free of its curse. I was naive
Speaker 1: to think I would never set foot in Lighthouse again. Lighthouse,
Speaker 1: Chapter five. For almost ten years, my life was normal,
Speaker 1: blissfully so as a life of boring mediocrity was exactly
Speaker 1: what I wanted. After those first stressful years of my life,
Speaker 1: I decided that I needed to move as far away
Speaker 1: from Lighthouse as possible, away from the ocean at the time,
Speaker 1: and with the money I had that translated into Newark, Maryland.
Speaker 1: It wasn't the most wonderful place in the world, but
Speaker 1: it was not Lighthouse, and that was good enough for me.
Speaker 1: I got a job as a secretary for a construction
Speaker 1: company and made enough to live comfortably on my own.
Speaker 1: I made a few friends, creating some lasting relationships, and
Speaker 1: for the first time in a long time, I was happy.
Speaker 1: About a year after I moved there, I met Chris.
Speaker 1: He had just moved into town and recently got a
Speaker 1: job as a driver for the same company I worked for.
Speaker 1: We talked, flirted, even endlessly for months, until finally he
Speaker 1: worked up the there of to ask me how We
Speaker 1: were married a year later. It was a small ceremony
Speaker 1: at the courthouse with just a few close friends and
Speaker 1: his family and attendance. I invited my mother and my sister,
Speaker 1: but it wasn't a surprise when they didn't show up.
Speaker 1: In truth, I was relieved I had kept my past
Speaker 1: and my family a secret from my new friends, so
Speaker 1: that saved me from having to explain the hardships I've
Speaker 1: been through. Life with Chris was great. Like all relationships,
Speaker 1: there were ups and downs, but Chris remained by my
Speaker 1: side and I by his through all of them. We
Speaker 1: had a modest apartment together that eventually turned into a
Speaker 1: nice condo, and then into our own home, a home
Speaker 1: that was nothing like Lighthouse. Soon that home was haunted
Speaker 1: by an entity other than us, a baby boy named Kevin.
Speaker 1: His laughter echoed through our halls, just as his cries
Speaker 1: echoed through the night. He was our pride and joy,
Speaker 1: and we loved him with everything we had. Chris wanted
Speaker 1: to name him after my side of the family, but
Speaker 1: I was not going to be reminded of what I
Speaker 1: left behind, and so we settled on the name of
Speaker 1: his great grandfather. Things were good. I was happy, We
Speaker 1: were happy, and then the nightmares started. The details of
Speaker 1: them varied from night to night, but the subject matter
Speaker 1: was always the same Lighthouse. Sometimes I was a child again,
Speaker 1: running through the halls, playing with my sister, before coming
Speaker 1: across the residence of the house I tried so hard
Speaker 1: to forget. Sometimes I was being chased by the shadowy thing,
Speaker 1: gaining on my heels as it jumped in and out
Speaker 1: of the walls to get to me. Sometimes it was
Speaker 1: of the lighthouse on the bluff, the dim glow from
Speaker 1: the top shining down on me until it became so
Speaker 1: bright that I went blind. It got bad enough that
Speaker 1: Chris suggested I go see a therapist. Jan was her name.
Speaker 1: At first I was unsure about her. I had seen
Speaker 1: enough doctors during my youth that I had grown skeptical
Speaker 1: of them, But over time I began to open up
Speaker 1: to her. In fact, I found that I had bottled
Speaker 1: up so much of my past for so long that
Speaker 1: it was a relief to get it off my chest.
Speaker 1: She was interested in my medical records from when I
Speaker 1: was a child, but at last I did not have
Speaker 1: copies of them, and I was hesitant to reach out
Speaker 1: to my mother for them. Who knew if she even
Speaker 1: had them any longer, I filled in the blanks as
Speaker 1: best I could. I saw things, and my parents were concerned.
Speaker 1: I got brave enough with her that I even told
Speaker 1: told her of the things in the house. I was
Speaker 1: afraid she would laugh, that she would not believe me,
Speaker 1: but she just listened intently and gave her advice. Afterward,
Speaker 1: Jan was wonderful and truly believed the nightmares were manifestations
Speaker 1: of my not completely dealing with the past. Also, to
Speaker 1: be fair, she wasn't wrong. I had not really dealt
Speaker 1: with the ramifications of that night with my father, nor
Speaker 1: everything that came before. As for the ghostly dwellers in Lighthouse.
Speaker 1: She did have a purely scientific theory about their existence,
Speaker 1: especially based on my medical issues as a child. Considering
Speaker 1: how my family unit had deteriorated over time, she felt
Speaker 1: that both my sister and I had a sort of
Speaker 1: shared delusion that sounds much worse than it actually is.
Speaker 1: But in short, we created a scenario to help us
Speaker 1: better cope with the conditions of our home life. Instead
Speaker 1: of our father beating our mother, we believed that a
Speaker 1: dark entity in our home was causing him to do so.
Speaker 1: Psycho analytical assumptions aside, it did make sense, especially given
Speaker 1: that I had a history of such In fact, I
Speaker 1: even believed that explanation myself for a while, but in
Speaker 1: my heart I knew that was not true. I was
Speaker 1: cured when I was a child, so there was none
Speaker 1: of that left in me. Instead, the things living in
Speaker 1: the dark of Lighthouse were real. They had to be.
Speaker 1: Around the time we entered the nineties, my nightmares stopped
Speaker 1: being nightmares and stepped into the real world in one
Speaker 1: of the most frightening ways possible. Chris was at work
Speaker 1: and I had the day off, so I decided to
Speaker 1: take Keaven for a walk to the park. He had
Speaker 1: a lot of energy that morning, and I thought it
Speaker 1: would be best for him to expel it there. He
Speaker 1: was four at the time, the prime age for running
Speaker 1: around and playing with other children on the playground. It
Speaker 1: was dreary that day, the sun not quite burning through
Speaker 1: the clouds yet, but the park was crowded. Nonetheless, by
Speaker 1: the time we made it to the playground, I had
Speaker 1: early said the words be careful before Kevin took off
Speaker 1: to be with his friends. I sat down on a
Speaker 1: bench nearby, watching him weave in and out of you
Speaker 1: as I sipped on my coffee. Some of the other
Speaker 1: mothers I was friendly with came and went, sharing a
Speaker 1: few scattered conversations before they moved on to say hello
Speaker 1: to the others. My eyes kept watching the playground as
Speaker 1: the sea of children movements sometimes made it difficult to
Speaker 1: see Kevin, sending momentary waves of panic through me, but
Speaker 1: he always reappeared A few seconds later. I was in
Speaker 1: the middle of speaking to another mom about a sale
Speaker 1: a local grocer was having on apples, a typically mundane
Speaker 1: thing to be talking about, when something caught my eye
Speaker 1: at the far end of the playground, through the jungle
Speaker 1: gym area, and beyond the swings stood a man. He
Speaker 1: was hard to make out, as the children swinging back
Speaker 1: and forth on the swings made it somewhat difficult to
Speaker 1: get a good look at him. But the more I
Speaker 1: stared in his direction, the more I realized he was
Speaker 1: looking down at something or someone. Rather. This man gave
Speaker 1: me a bad feeling, so my eyes darted around the
Speaker 1: playground looking for Kevin, just to make sure he was safe.
Speaker 1: But I didn't see him, not running around, not coming
Speaker 1: down the slide, not even playing ball in the field.
Speaker 1: I stood up, my eyes continued to search on the
Speaker 1: verge of panic. When I looked back to the man,
Speaker 1: he still stood there, looking down, nodding his head at
Speaker 1: a child, and I realized that child was Kevin, my son,
Speaker 1: talking to this stranger. I started to walk that direction,
Speaker 1: weaving in and out of running children, to get my
Speaker 1: son away from this strange man. As I did, the
Speaker 1: man looked up and locked eyes with me, stopping me
Speaker 1: cold in my tracks. It was then that I realized
Speaker 1: he was wearing an Edwardian coat with a bowler hat
Speaker 1: atop his head. He smiled at me and chilled me.
Speaker 1: It had been so long since I had seen him that.
Speaker 1: It caught me off guard. As soon as my mind
Speaker 1: registered who it was. It was the man in the hat,
Speaker 1: hundreds of miles from lighthouse here with my son, My
Speaker 1: entire world went blank and I saw nothing but him.
Speaker 1: What was he doing here? How did he get here?
Speaker 1: What did he want? I broke into a run, swerving
Speaker 1: around kids, even knocking one out of my way, to
Speaker 1: get to him. It took me longer than I hoped.
Speaker 1: As I ran, my eyes locked on them. As I looked,
Speaker 1: the man in the hat simply disappeared into thin air.
Speaker 1: By the time I reached Kevin, I was terrified. I
Speaker 1: grabbed him and asked him what happened. He just looked
Speaker 1: at me with white eyes, Confused. I asked him about
Speaker 1: the man in the hat, but he didn't know what
Speaker 1: I was talking about. He had no recollection of seeing him,
Speaker 1: and instead was angry that I was keeping him from playing.
Speaker 1: He tried to squirm out of my grip, but we
Speaker 1: needed to go. There was no chance I was going
Speaker 1: to stay there after what I had seen. I dragged
Speaker 1: Kevin home, almost kicking and screaming, and tried to put
Speaker 1: it out of my mind. When Chris came home that night.
Speaker 1: I told him I wasn't feeling well and went to bed.
Speaker 1: When sleep finally did come, it was restless. I awoke
Speaker 1: in the middle of the night from a nightmare when
Speaker 1: that involved lighthouse again. Unfortunately, I could not get back
Speaker 1: to sleep. Not wanting to wake Chris, I went into
Speaker 1: the living room to try to pass the time. I
Speaker 1: made myself some tea and was about to settle down
Speaker 1: to watch some television when something compelled me to take
Speaker 1: a look out the window. I went over to it,
Speaker 1: almost as if under some kind of spell, and lifted
Speaker 1: the curtain back to see into the night. My eyes
Speaker 1: weren't quite adjusted yet, so it was just a blank
Speaker 1: canvas before me. But soon the black blobs of the
Speaker 1: evening took shape and I looked around. Was normal at
Speaker 1: first glance, until I looked up the street. They're standing
Speaker 1: under a street light was the man in the hat.
Speaker 1: I gasped and nearly dropped my tea. He stared in
Speaker 1: my direction as I tried to remain calm and did
Speaker 1: the only thing I could do I think I hadn't
Speaker 1: done in some time. I closed my eyes and I
Speaker 1: counted to five, one, two, three, four five, I opened
Speaker 1: my eyes and he was still there, tipping his hat
Speaker 1: as he smiled. I quickly moved back from the window,
Speaker 1: replacing the curtain again. I didn't want to see him anymore,
Speaker 1: nor did I want him to see me. But over
Speaker 1: the coming days it didn't matter. Anytime I closed my eyes,
Speaker 1: I saw him standing there smile at me, a byproduct
Speaker 1: of my imagination. But it wasn't long before he sprung
Speaker 1: from my mind and started to appear in my everyday
Speaker 1: life in the aisles of the grocery store, the hallways,
Speaker 1: at work, outside Kevin's school on the street corner as
Speaker 1: I drove by, the man in the hat was back,
Speaker 1: and he wanted me to notice him. After a few
Speaker 1: days of this, I couldn't stand it anymore. I called
Speaker 1: Jan and asked if we could move my appointment up.
Speaker 1: Jan listened and did her best to try to comfort
Speaker 1: me about it, but for some reason it didn't help.
Speaker 1: His reappearance back in my life shook me to my core,
Speaker 1: and my usual coping mechanisms were not helping. So Jan
Speaker 1: suggested something unorthodox. Perhaps you're seeing him is your mind's
Speaker 1: unconscious way of letting you know you need closure. She
Speaker 1: told me closure for what I asked her. Your father's death,
Speaker 1: your repressed childhood, your guilt over leaving your family behind
Speaker 1: in your new life life. She said, perhaps it's time
Speaker 1: you went back home to confront your fears so you
Speaker 1: can put them behind you once and for all. Maybe
Speaker 1: if you looked hard enough, you might find some answers
Speaker 1: to the questions you seek. Questions I asked about the house,
Speaker 1: it's history, your family. You said your father didn't talk
Speaker 1: much about his family before you moved into Lighthouse. Maybe
Speaker 1: if you learned more about them, these things won't bother
Speaker 1: you as much. Maybe if you learn about this man
Speaker 1: in the hat who he is, maybe he will go away.
Speaker 1: I rejected the thought the moment she said it, But
Speaker 1: as I left my session and saw the man in
Speaker 1: the hat waiting to tip his hat toward me on
Speaker 1: my way to the parking lot, I reconsidered. That night,
Speaker 1: I debated it the pros and the cons to try
Speaker 1: to come up with another solution, but none came to mind,
Speaker 1: and the thought of seeing him every day for the
Speaker 1: rest of my life, ruining the piece I had created
Speaker 1: for myself was too much to bear. For the sake
Speaker 1: of my family, my Chris and my little Kevin. I
Speaker 1: knew what I had to do. It was time to
Speaker 1: go back to Lighthouse. Lighthouse will return after these messages,
Speaker 1: and now back to Lighthouse. The road back to Lighthouse
Speaker 1: was not an easy one. Though only a few hundred
Speaker 1: miles from my new home, the drive was long and arduous.
Speaker 1: My car, usually reliable in all conditions, broke down along
Speaker 1: the turnpike on my journey there. The repairs were going
Speaker 1: to take a few days, so I left it with
Speaker 1: a mechanic and took a loaner for the rest of
Speaker 1: the route. The loner was not nearly as reliable as
Speaker 1: my car and was prone to overheating. I had to
Speaker 1: refill the water and let it cooled down every few hours.
Speaker 1: The stopping and starting was grating on my nerves. I
Speaker 1: was anxious to just get there, already to be done
Speaker 1: with my visit, but vehicles were not making it any
Speaker 1: easier on me, nor was my family. I called my
Speaker 1: mother before I left, letting her know that I was
Speaker 1: coming for a visit. She was cold over the phone,
Speaker 1: uninterested in hearing from her eldest daughter, but agreeing to
Speaker 1: let me stop by. She hung up before I had
Speaker 1: the chance to tell her when I would get there.
Speaker 1: I guess it was going to be a surprise. By
Speaker 1: the time I pulled into the driveway, the car was
Speaker 1: on its last legs. Smoke was billowing from beneath the hood,
Speaker 1: and rather than attempting to make it the last half
Speaker 1: mile to the house, I just pulled over and left
Speaker 1: it there, lighthouse looming in the not so far distance,
Speaker 1: I walked toward it slowly, apprehension taking hold of me.
Speaker 1: Ten years had passed since I had last seen the house,
Speaker 1: but from the way things looked, it may as well
Speaker 1: have been fifty. The grounds of the house were in disarray,
Speaker 1: the great lawn filled with tall weaves and neglect. The
Speaker 1: red oak tree out front, though still a massive presence,
Speaker 1: was dying, its withered branches twisting downward. A lighthouse still
Speaker 1: stood on the bluff, a dark shape against the gray sky.
Speaker 1: The house itself was no better, with peeling paint at
Speaker 1: every corner and loose shutters hanging off their hinges. If
Speaker 1: I hadn't known any better, I would have thought it
Speaker 1: to be abandoned. The house finely reflected what I had
Speaker 1: always thought of it, rotten and neglected. When I reached
Speaker 1: the porch. The steps creaked underneath me, and I held
Speaker 1: my breath. I wasn't ready to face my family or
Speaker 1: whatever waited for me in lighthouse. I had no choice.
Speaker 1: I was already there. I knocked on the door before
Speaker 1: I lost more of my nerve and waited. It was
Speaker 1: an unusually long time of no one answering before I
Speaker 1: knocked again. I was a bit nervous that something was wrong,
Speaker 1: that something had happened to my mother or to Leini.
Speaker 1: But the second knock did the trick. Beyond the door,
Speaker 1: I heard some muffled cursing as someone struggled to unlock it.
Speaker 1: When the door screeched open, I was surprised to find
Speaker 1: an older woman in a wheelchair that I did not
Speaker 1: recognize answering it. It wasn't until she spoke that I
Speaker 1: realized that this was in a stranger But my mother
Speaker 1: aged as much as the house itself. I was taken
Speaker 1: aback and couldn't respond to her first inquiry, having missed
Speaker 1: it completely, But her second, more forceful and angrier, brought
Speaker 1: me back to reality. What do you want, she growled,
Speaker 1: ready to close the door in my face. Mom, it's me,
Speaker 1: It's Tara. She gave me a lingering once over, but
Speaker 1: instead of responding, she just rolled backward away from the
Speaker 1: door and into the bowels of the house. I took
Speaker 1: that as my unspoken invitation to come in. I pushed
Speaker 1: the door open, standing on the threshold between my old
Speaker 1: life and my new I hesitated before stepping in, realizing
Speaker 1: that I still had a choice. But the second I
Speaker 1: went in, the choice was made. Instantly, my body tensed,
Speaker 1: and I felt that dread long since forgotten wash over
Speaker 1: me again. I imagined the man in the hat behind me,
Speaker 1: placing his hands on my shoulders, says a welcome home gesture.
Speaker 1: I shivered. Close the goddamn door. You're letting the air in.
Speaker 1: Came my mother's voice from the other room. I did
Speaker 1: as she commanded and slowly walked after her. Being back
Speaker 1: in Lighthouse was worse than I had imagined. Every negative
Speaker 1: emotion I had toward it was amplified, and every voice
Speaker 1: in my head rang out, begging me to leave. But
Speaker 1: I was back, and it's uninviting embrace, and I got
Speaker 1: the sense it was all too happy to see me.
Speaker 1: Following my mother's voice through the house, I walked past
Speaker 1: my father's study, the door was shut, and what part
Speaker 1: of me wanted to look inside, the other part demanded
Speaker 1: I stay far away. I was struck by the lack
Speaker 1: of lighting fixtures being used. Instead, candles lined the hallways,
Speaker 1: both on the floor and furniture. They're melted wax, making
Speaker 1: it look like one big altar. The rooms I passed
Speaker 1: looked like more of the same. Perhaps the electric bill
Speaker 1: was too high to keep the room slight. Eventually I
Speaker 1: found her in the library. She had rolled into the
Speaker 1: center of the room, cigarette in hand, sending puffs of
Speaker 1: smoke into the air. She stared hard at me, but
Speaker 1: wouldn't break the silence on her own. It's good to
Speaker 1: see you, I told her, trying to be friendly. She
Speaker 1: was my mother, after all, and though it had been
Speaker 1: some time since we had seen each other, let alone spoken,
Speaker 1: I still loved her. Her icy demeanor chilled the room,
Speaker 1: sending a shiver through me, which was a welcome countermeasure
Speaker 1: to the sweat I had broken out into. Why are
Speaker 1: you here, tera, she asked me, her eyes never leaving me.
Speaker 1: I was unsure how to respond to her, as what
Speaker 1: I really wanted to say would not be something she
Speaker 1: wanted to hear. Thanks Lee A voice from above saved me.
Speaker 1: She's family, Mother, said, my sister, who was sitting on
Speaker 1: the spiral staircase previously unnoticed. She missed us. Leni stood,
Speaker 1: looking down at me with a warm smile. Hello, Leny,
Speaker 1: it's so good to see you, I told her, and
Speaker 1: I actually meant it. I hadn't seen my sister in
Speaker 1: far too long, and I was so glad. She was
Speaker 1: happy I was here. She limped down the stairs and
Speaker 1: ran as best as she could across the room to
Speaker 1: hug me. I'm so glad you're home, she exclaimed, I've
Speaker 1: missed you. She was wearing a nightgown, I noticed, even
Speaker 1: though it was close to too in the afternoon. But
Speaker 1: it was Saturday, so who was I to judge her
Speaker 1: for having a lazy day. However, more concerning was that
Speaker 1: clutched in her hand. Was Abigail still around after all
Speaker 1: these years? Mother? Don't you want to give Tara a hug?
Speaker 1: She said? My mother merely grunted in response, but Leni
Speaker 1: pushed me toward her anyway. I embraced her, though it
Speaker 1: is very one sided. Her fingers barely grace my back,
Speaker 1: more an act of courtesy than one of love. In
Speaker 1: that close proximity to her, I realized she wreaked of alcohol.
Speaker 1: Oh we will have so much fun, LEONEI continued. We
Speaker 1: can play games and have a tea party and do
Speaker 1: all sorts of things again now that you're home. I
Speaker 1: smiled weakly in response, realizing how badly she had regretted
Speaker 1: since the incident with my father, I was certain she
Speaker 1: did not have much of a life beyond the walls
Speaker 1: of Lighthouse. She continued on, I will make up your
Speaker 1: old bed and we can go out to the garden
Speaker 1: to see I'm not staying, Leonie, I interrupted her. I'm
Speaker 1: just here for a quick visit. My mother grunted in response.
Speaker 1: Ten years you abandon us. I should expect nothing less. Mother,
Speaker 1: Leanie said, I'm sorry, Tara. She doesn't mean it. We're
Speaker 1: just happy for whatever time you spend with us. She smiled,
Speaker 1: but I could see the hurt behind it. I don't
Speaker 1: want to be any bother, I told them, I will
Speaker 1: just I came to see something. I will be out
Speaker 1: of your hair soon. My mother flicked her cigarette into
Speaker 1: a nearby ashtray and rolled her way out of the room.
Speaker 1: Mary a look in my direction. I heard the mechanical
Speaker 1: whir of the chair lift a moment later, something that
Speaker 1: we had installed shortly after my mother was confined to
Speaker 1: the chair so she could still go up and down
Speaker 1: the stairs. Don't mind her, LENI told me, come sit
Speaker 1: with me. What did you come to see? Abigail said,
Speaker 1: she miss you too. Leni grabbed my arms and pulled
Speaker 1: me down onto the couch next to her, like a
Speaker 1: teenage girl waiting for the latest gossip. I ignored her
Speaker 1: Abigail comment, avoiding the bear's dead eye gaze as it
Speaker 1: made me uncomfortable. Lenie, I began, have you I trailed
Speaker 1: off there because a grown woman asking another grown woman
Speaker 1: if she still sees ghosts seemed ridiculous to me. I
Speaker 1: waited a moment to collect my thoughts and started again,
Speaker 1: Do you still, mhm see things? She tilted her head
Speaker 1: to the side as if confused by my question. The
Speaker 1: things that live in the house. I mean like Abigail,
Speaker 1: she said, smiling again. Abigail is my best friend. I
Speaker 1: mean more like other things. I said, like the man
Speaker 1: in the hat. Oh, she replied, her smile turning into
Speaker 1: a frown. We don't like him. I saw him, I
Speaker 1: told her. At home, My my home, with my son
Speaker 1: at the park and then a few other places as well.
Speaker 1: You have a son, she interrupted me, I have a nephew.
Speaker 1: I sent you a letter about it with some photos. Oh,
Speaker 1: she said, her eyes cast downward. Mother doesn't let me
Speaker 1: read much mail. I was about to say something else,
Speaker 1: to apologize even and question just what my mother thought
Speaker 1: she was doing keeping things from my sister, but Lenny
Speaker 1: had other ideas. Do you want to see something, she
Speaker 1: her face lighting up again. Come with me. She grabbed
Speaker 1: my arm again and pulled me out of the room.
Speaker 1: She dragged me through the dining room and into the kitchen.
Speaker 1: She guided me toward the pantry, and I realized where
Speaker 1: we were going. I tried to pull back to stop
Speaker 1: our progress, but Lenny was unnaturally strong. There was no
Speaker 1: stopping her, no question where she was taking me. We
Speaker 1: were going down to the basement, and inevitably to the
Speaker 1: dark room. Lighthouse were returned after a word from our sponsors,
Speaker 1: and now Lighthouse continues like a prisoner being led to
Speaker 1: his execution. I followed my sister, using a candle to
Speaker 1: guide her path down into the depths of the basement,
Speaker 1: through the maze of discarded junk, toward the dark room.
Speaker 1: I stopped short just before the doorway. As Leni crouched
Speaker 1: to get inside, I froze and thought of the last
Speaker 1: time I set foot inside. So dark, my imagination filled
Speaker 1: in the gaps, forming a dark brown stain in the
Speaker 1: dirt where my father took his final breath. Lenie pulled
Speaker 1: the chain and the darkness was eliminated by the red light.
Speaker 1: Looking inside, nothing had changed. It was still as small
Speaker 1: as ever, more so now that I was older. The
Speaker 1: shelf was still filled with old chemicals and photo albums.
Speaker 1: The work bench was still there, standing guard. But I
Speaker 1: also noticed a few more things discarded, food containers, books,
Speaker 1: a flashlight, and a blanket and a pillow. Despite everything
Speaker 1: that had happened, Lenie was still coming down here. This room,
Speaker 1: with its horrific memories and oppressed feelings, was still her
Speaker 1: safe haven. In a way, it made sense. My mother,
Speaker 1: as she became more and were bitter as the years
Speaker 1: went on, could not make her way down the stairs
Speaker 1: in her wheelchair. LENI was safe from her here. I
Speaker 1: didn't want to go in, but Lenie waved me inside hesitantly.
Speaker 1: I crouched down and stepped through the doorway. It was
Speaker 1: cramped with both of us in there, but she didn't
Speaker 1: seem to mind. She placed Abigail on her candle on
Speaker 1: the workbench before disappearing. Underneath here, too were puddles of
Speaker 1: melted wax covering those surfaces, the work bench, the shelf,
Speaker 1: and even the ground. I heard her rustling around, as
Speaker 1: if looking for something. My heart dropped for a moment,
Speaker 1: thinking that perhaps the knife, the one that had killed
Speaker 1: my father, was still hidden under there. That was silly,
Speaker 1: of course, because the police had taken that as evidence
Speaker 1: long ago. Still the idea persisted, and I took a
Speaker 1: cautionary step back as Leni crawled out from beneath it.
Speaker 1: In her hands was an old cardboard box. She placed
Speaker 1: it on the work bench before blowing off a cloud
Speaker 1: of dust. She presented it to me with a flourish giggling,
Speaker 1: like a child proud of her work. I was unsure
Speaker 1: of what it was, and told her as much. She
Speaker 1: seemed almost disappointed that I didn't know, so she opened
Speaker 1: the box and pulled out something from inside, a reel
Speaker 1: to reel tape recorder. It was ancient, looking, like something
Speaker 1: out of the nineteen thirties. I would have been surprised
Speaker 1: if it even worked, but Leney, still giggling, placed it
Speaker 1: on the bench and searched through the box again. This
Speaker 1: time she pulled out some metal canisters. She handed one
Speaker 1: over to me, and I read the label August and
Speaker 1: September ninety. I opened it and found a real spooled
Speaker 1: up inside. What are these, I asked her, and she smiled, history,
Speaker 1: she replied, of the house Abigail found them, Ignoring her,
Speaker 1: Abigail comment, I studied the real in my hand and
Speaker 1: my mind racing about its contents. This was exactly what
Speaker 1: Jan was talking about. This could help me find out
Speaker 1: more about my father's family. What did they reveal? What
Speaker 1: revelations did they contain? Have you listened? I asked her.
Speaker 1: A few, she replied, I got bored, but some of
Speaker 1: them didn't work too Scratchy couldn't make out the recordings,
Speaker 1: but this one, she pointed to, the one in my hands.
Speaker 1: I didn't listen to it yet, Abigail said I should
Speaker 1: wait for you. I was scared, scared of what the
Speaker 1: tape contained, scared of listening to it in the dark room,
Speaker 1: and scared as to why Abigail wanted Leni to wait
Speaker 1: for me. I felt on the verge of going mad,
Speaker 1: and I wanted to suggest that we take the player,
Speaker 1: or the tapes and the whole house and just burn
Speaker 1: it to the ground. But then Leni took my hand
Speaker 1: and smiled. I nodded and handed the reel back to
Speaker 1: her as she delicately removed it from the canister and
Speaker 1: loaded it into the player. It's screeched to life. It's antique, motorized,
Speaker 1: insides groaning after so many years of disuse. The tape scratched,
Speaker 1: and for an instant I was sure it wouldn't play.
Speaker 1: But then a voice sprung forth from it, startling us
Speaker 1: both there in the dim red glow of the dark room.
Speaker 1: We listened intently as he revealed a secret that Lighthouse
Speaker 1: had kept for many, many years. This is Dr Albright.
Speaker 1: The data is August the time christ I don't even
Speaker 1: know what time it is. These are my final notes
Speaker 1: for Patient three two, File zero three to one. When
Speaker 1: I became a doctor, I took an oath, one that
Speaker 1: made me swear to help those in need. And I
Speaker 1: can't help but feel like I failed here, that that
Speaker 1: we we did something wrong, that this will be a
Speaker 1: stain on my soul for the rest of my life.
Speaker 1: Every time I closed my eyes, I can I can
Speaker 1: see her, I can hear or screams or or please
Speaker 1: for help. Did we make the right decision? I thought
Speaker 1: so at first, but now I don't know. She was
Speaker 1: she was so young. Lighthouse is a production of I
Speaker 1: Heart Radio in Bamford produc Auctions. Chapter five featured the
Speaker 1: voice of Ali Trasher, written and directed by Jeff Himbuck,
Speaker 1: audio engineering, an original musical score by Corey Celeste. Production
Speaker 1: assistance by Alex Gona. Executive produced by Holly Fry. Questions comments,
Speaker 1: you can reach us at the Man in the Hat
Speaker 1: is Watching at gmail dot com. Thank you for listening.