Speaker 1: Lighthouse is a production of I Heart Radio and Bamford Productions.
Speaker 1: The date is August fifteen. Time is three pm. This
Speaker 1: is Dr Albright interviewing patient to file zero three two
Speaker 1: one to seven, Madeleine, Madeleine, Do you know who I am? No,
Speaker 1: I'm Dr Albright, but you can call me Malcolm. Malcolm
Speaker 1: is a funny name. It is. It was my grandfather's name, Madeleine.
Speaker 1: Do you know why I'm here to play with? From where?
Speaker 1: Tell me about what you're doing this? I can see that.
Speaker 1: Does your doll have a name? What a pretty name?
Speaker 1: And it starts with the letter M, just like your name, Mary, Madeleine.
Speaker 1: Sounds silly like that. They certainly do, Madeline. Your parents
Speaker 1: are very worried about you, Madeline. Did you hear me?
Speaker 1: They're worried about you. How come well because of some
Speaker 1: of the things you've been saying and the things you've
Speaker 1: been doing. And I'm here to help make sure that
Speaker 1: you're being safe and that you're not really a danger
Speaker 1: to yourself. I'm safe. He keeps me safe? Who keeps
Speaker 1: you safe? Madeleine? Your your daddy? You're funny? Will you
Speaker 1: tell me who keeps you safe? Did you see it.
Speaker 1: See what the right? Yes I did. You can't miss
Speaker 1: it when you come out here. I'm sure it was
Speaker 1: quite beautiful back in its day when it was still operational.
Speaker 1: Did you see it? The light inside it goes for
Speaker 1: me sometimes? Who keeps you safe? Will you tell me? Nope? No, no, no, no, nope?
Speaker 1: Why not? It's a secret. Well will you tell me
Speaker 1: about the people you see? What people in the house?
Speaker 1: You're my friends? Your friends? Well? What are their names? Um,
Speaker 1: I'm not supposed to tell you. And why is that?
Speaker 1: He doesn't walk rim? Person? Who keeps you safe? Well?
Speaker 1: What can you tell me? I don't know? What else?
Speaker 1: Did they tell you? All sorts of things? What kind
Speaker 1: of things? Some things? And what kind of games do
Speaker 1: you play with them? Hi didn't seek I'm really good.
Speaker 1: That is a very fun game. Do they say anything else?
Speaker 1: I'm not supposed to say because it's a secret. You
Speaker 1: can trust me, Madeline. I'm a doctor, Remember, I don't know.
Speaker 1: I am very good at keeping secret. You promise not
Speaker 1: to tell I promise. Well, they tell me they want
Speaker 1: to bring me somewhere. Where is that away in the dark?
Speaker 1: What's in the dark? That's where they live? He wants
Speaker 1: to show me. But he can't. How come? Because he said,
Speaker 1: I have to do something for them first. The man
Speaker 1: who keeps you safe said this, What does he want
Speaker 1: you to do? Well? I think they are bad things?
Speaker 1: Does he want you to hurt people? Know? Just to
Speaker 1: make sure they're sleeping? He tells me to put them
Speaker 1: to sleep. How does he want you to do that?
Speaker 1: He said, Mommy and Daddy only pretend to sleep at night,
Speaker 1: that they lay down and close their eyes. But they're
Speaker 1: just pretending. He said, he should go in the kitchen
Speaker 1: and take a knife from the jar, one of the
Speaker 1: sharp ones. That's very dangerous if we want you to
Speaker 1: do with the knife. He told me to go into
Speaker 1: their room and play the up and down game with them,
Speaker 1: to put them asleep. The up and down game? What's that?
Speaker 1: You know? Will you take something in your hand? And
Speaker 1: you will? And Madeline, you know that will hurt your parents? Right? No,
Speaker 1: it won't. It will just make sure they're sleeping. Silly, No, Madeline,
Speaker 1: that will hurt them, maybe even kill them, and they
Speaker 1: will sleep forever. Oh, what's wrong, Madeline? He says he
Speaker 1: doesn't like you. Dr Albright, who doesn't The man who
Speaker 1: keeps you safe is he here now. He says it's
Speaker 1: time for you to go away. Tell him that I will,
Speaker 1: but only when I finish helping you. He says, I
Speaker 1: should make you go away myself. Does he know? Did
Speaker 1: he tell you how he did? And what did he say?
Speaker 1: He said, I should take your pen and shove it
Speaker 1: in your eye into a public a balloon. Isn't he funny?
Speaker 1: Dr all right? Lighthouse Chapter one. Your home is a
Speaker 1: safe haven. It's more than just a warm bed and
Speaker 1: a comfy couch. It's love, it's security, it's connection. It's
Speaker 1: familiar place to retreat to when things get too rough,
Speaker 1: for when you're feeling lonely. It's a place you go
Speaker 1: to be with those closest to you, where they can
Speaker 1: wrap you in a blanket of their love. Home isn't
Speaker 1: a place as much as it is a feeling homes
Speaker 1: where this story begins. I do not have a home. Instead,
Speaker 1: I only have pain, heartbreak, and a piece of myself
Speaker 1: missing that I can never get back. There's a darkness
Speaker 1: that dwells in the center of the world, that seeps
Speaker 1: its way up through the ground and forces itself into
Speaker 1: our lives. It hides in any place that can crawl into,
Speaker 1: hiding away as it grows and thrives, surrounding itself in gloom.
Speaker 1: This darkness isn't the kind that comes from the absence
Speaker 1: of light. It's the kind where malevolent forces flourish. It's
Speaker 1: the kind that make up the nightmares that keep you
Speaker 1: awake as a child, clutching your blanket as you cry
Speaker 1: for your parents. It's the kind that infects everything it touches.
Speaker 1: It's vile, icy fingers tightening around your throat, stifling your screams.
Speaker 1: It's the kind you cannot escape, no matter how hard
Speaker 1: you try. The unlucky few that discover the darkness hiding
Speaker 1: place get caught in its everlasting grip. It works its
Speaker 1: way into their soul, slowly corrupting them from the inside out,
Speaker 1: until it ultimately consumes them, leaving nothing but an empty,
Speaker 1: hollow shell in its wake. Lighthouse is one of those
Speaker 1: hiding places. It's a place where good people are forced
Speaker 1: to do bad things, and we're bad people do even worse.
Speaker 1: Lighthouse is my home. For years, I've hidden myself away
Speaker 1: from the outside world, afraid of allowing the darkness that
Speaker 1: dwells here and inside me to escape. Despite my best efforts.
Speaker 1: I've become the very thing I swore not to hermited
Speaker 1: away from everything and everyone I ever loved, or at
Speaker 1: the very least the ones I had not yet managed
Speaker 1: to destroy. This house, my family, and even myself have
Speaker 1: become the subject of rumor. There are whispered secrets and
Speaker 1: gossip running wild in the town, with each repeating of
Speaker 1: the story compounded by another embellishment, another exaggeration, another lie.
Speaker 1: I admit, yes, some of what has been said is
Speaker 1: the truth. But it's the story of me, the story
Speaker 1: of why, the story of Lighthouse. My name is Tara
Speaker 1: Marie Hollis. I was born in Hayworth, New Jersey. My sister,
Speaker 1: Eileen or Leni for short, was born four years later.
Speaker 1: I don't remember much about my early years, just what
Speaker 1: was told to me. Life was difficult for us. My
Speaker 1: father was a salesman who worked hard to provide for
Speaker 1: his family. While he wasn't the best at his job,
Speaker 1: he did the best he could. It was rough, particularly
Speaker 1: because through a series of failed investment opportunities and jobs
Speaker 1: that didn't quite work out, our family was constantly on
Speaker 1: the move, traveling from place to place. While my parents
Speaker 1: tried to make ends meet. The other part was my fault.
Speaker 1: Before my sister was born, I was ill for most
Speaker 1: of my childhood. I don't remember much about it, but
Speaker 1: what I do remember was painful. A series of tests,
Speaker 1: long stretches in and out of the hospital, and lots
Speaker 1: of doctors, not just medical ones, but plenty of psychiatrists
Speaker 1: and psychologists too. I was too young to understand it
Speaker 1: at the time, but they were concerned that something was
Speaker 1: wrong with my brain. It was too complicated for me
Speaker 1: to understand, but it boiled down to the fact that
Speaker 1: I saw things. There was some brief talk of being hereditary,
Speaker 1: coming from my father's side. There was also talk of
Speaker 1: a tumor pressing up against my brain causing them function.
Speaker 1: There were even long stretches of me not remembering anything
Speaker 1: at all, a sort of blackout. However, I do know
Speaker 1: by the time I was six, all seemed to be
Speaker 1: better because I no longer saw the doctors or the psychiatrists,
Speaker 1: or even the inside of a hospital again. These medical
Speaker 1: issues they strained my parents finances. We didn't have much,
Speaker 1: but we had each other and that's what mattered. The
Speaker 1: memories I do have of my early years are happy ones.
Speaker 1: My sister and I kept each other occupied while my
Speaker 1: parents did what they could to make sure we were surviving.
Speaker 1: They didn't have any family that they could ask for help,
Speaker 1: as my mother's side disowned her for marrying my father,
Speaker 1: and my father's family was mostly deceased. His only living
Speaker 1: relative was his grandmother, an eccentric, elderly recluse that he
Speaker 1: rarely spoke of and that I'd never met. I wasn't
Speaker 1: aware of it at the time, but things started to
Speaker 1: get dire for our family. Money was stretched thin and
Speaker 1: my parents had too many outstanding debts to keep us
Speaker 1: all afloat. We weren't quite at rock bottom yet, but
Speaker 1: we were mere inches away from it. However, just before
Speaker 1: all was lost, something serendipitous happened. My father's grandmother passed away.
Speaker 1: Not that her passing was something to celebrate, but it
Speaker 1: was a blessing in disguise. Not only did she leave
Speaker 1: a sizeable amount of money to my father, she also
Speaker 1: left him their ancestral family home. I was eleven years
Speaker 1: old when I first laid my eyes on Lighthouse. My
Speaker 1: parents had argued for weeks leading up to it, as
Speaker 1: the decision to move there wasn't an easy one to make.
Speaker 1: My father was vehemently against it, and an argument about
Speaker 1: it was the first time I truly remember him losing
Speaker 1: his temper. He wanted nothing to do with the house,
Speaker 1: offering to sell it to the bank at an incredibly
Speaker 1: low price just to get rid of it and use
Speaker 1: the rest of the inheritance to buy us a more
Speaker 1: modest home elsewhere. My mother wanted him to be more
Speaker 1: sensible about it. Why waste money on a new home
Speaker 1: when there was a perfectly good one waiting for us
Speaker 1: that we could use. My father thought about it for
Speaker 1: a long time, rubbing an old scar he had on
Speaker 1: his right palm. Eventually he yielded to her and we
Speaker 1: began the journey to our new home. It was a
Speaker 1: warm winter day in nineteen sixty three when we finally arrived.
Speaker 1: As our car pulled through the massive entry gates, I
Speaker 1: caught my first glimpse of Lighthouse. My mind couldn't fully
Speaker 1: comprehend it. It It was like something out of a fairy
Speaker 1: tale or an old story, even at such a distance.
Speaker 1: It was the biggest house I had ever laid eyes on,
Speaker 1: and my breath caught in my throat as I craned
Speaker 1: my neck to see it. All we drove closer, but
Speaker 1: the driveway seemed to stretch on forever, giving the house
Speaker 1: a sense of isolation. The front of the house was
Speaker 1: mostly barren from years of neglect, with a sea of
Speaker 1: dead grass surrounding it. The only other thing visible from
Speaker 1: the front was an ancient red oak tree, as if
Speaker 1: it was standing guard over the house. The house itself
Speaker 1: had three stories that loomed over the grounds, with its
Speaker 1: unique Torrean style being nothing like I'd ever seen before.
Speaker 1: It seemed more like a castle than a house, with
Speaker 1: a tower that reached for the sky on the left
Speaker 1: side of the house, with steep gabled roofs surrounding it.
Speaker 1: My eyes were pulled up further as the complex roofline
Speaker 1: seemed more for visual effect than practical design. The windows
Speaker 1: all seemed to be their own distinct shape and size
Speaker 1: as you went up. The first floors were larger, with
Speaker 1: bay windows and a large hilarium making up most of them.
Speaker 1: The second floor had more eyebrow windows with curve shapes
Speaker 1: about the traditional windows, while the third floor got a
Speaker 1: bit smaller. I could see a hint of stained glass
Speaker 1: on the right side and was thrilled to finally see
Speaker 1: something so wonderfully beautiful in person. Directly over the entry, though,
Speaker 1: were two large windows that gave the impression that the
Speaker 1: house was looking back at me. Below those windows was
Speaker 1: a set of stairs which led up to the front door,
Speaker 1: which itself was an ornate affair made of solid wood.
Speaker 1: It surrounded a stained glass fixture with the letter L
Speaker 1: at its center, giving it a more regal appearance. The
Speaker 1: wraparound porch stretched to both ends of the house and
Speaker 1: around the back as well. Beyond the house was the
Speaker 1: Atlantic Ocean, miles and miles of it, spreading out as
Speaker 1: far as the eye could see. Lighthouse was so named
Speaker 1: because it sat on Lighthouse Point. The entire grounds was
Speaker 1: located on a bluff overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. Years before
Speaker 1: the house was built, the sole occupant of the bluff
Speaker 1: was an actual lighthouse built in the eighteen hundreds. It
Speaker 1: was a beacon of hope for ships on those dark
Speaker 1: New Jersey nights long before my father was born. His
Speaker 1: family served as its keeper for years, diligently keeping watch
Speaker 1: to make sure those out at sea did not meet
Speaker 1: the same fate as their predecessors. Though it was still
Speaker 1: standing not too far from our house itself, the lighthouse
Speaker 1: set unused. Years of neglect reduced it to an unsafe,
Speaker 1: crumbling mess. Lighthouse was originally a more modest home, merely
Speaker 1: a dwelling for a lighthousekeeper and his family to live.
Speaker 1: But over the years, when my great great and father
Speaker 1: had an investment payoff handsomely, the modest home was torn
Speaker 1: down and lighthouse was built, a grand structure for a
Speaker 1: proud man, and now it was ours. Before we came here, though,
Speaker 1: my father made it very clear to us that while
Speaker 1: we were welcome to roam free and explore the grounds
Speaker 1: as we pleased, the lighthouse itself was strictly off limits.
Speaker 1: But that didn't matter, because the house lighthouse view it
Speaker 1: was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. As we
Speaker 1: drove down the driveway getting closer, I remember feeling the
Speaker 1: pit in the bottom of my stomach began to rise,
Speaker 1: my head began to swim as a slight wave of
Speaker 1: nausea overtook me for a few moments. Whether I was
Speaker 1: just nervous about the new chapter in our lives or
Speaker 1: it was a subconscious warning as to what awaited us,
Speaker 1: I'll never know. However, I wasn't the only one to
Speaker 1: feel uneasy as we pulled in front of the stairs.
Speaker 1: My father stopped the car. I got out and went
Speaker 1: around to lean eyside to help her. But I noticed
Speaker 1: she looked a bit green as well. What's wrong, I
Speaker 1: asked her, hoping she was not carsick from her long journey.
Speaker 1: Her eyes were locked upward, as if she was an
Speaker 1: intense staring contest with someone or something. There's a man
Speaker 1: in the window up there, she said, a man wearing
Speaker 1: a hat. Don't be silly. The house has been empty
Speaker 1: for months. No one lives here but us. Now it's
Speaker 1: not empty. Look she pointed upward, and I looked in
Speaker 1: that direction, toward the window on the third story that
Speaker 1: looked like eyes. I couldn't see anything. My sister, whether
Speaker 1: from an overactive imagination or not, was often prone to
Speaker 1: seeing things. A few years ago, I taught her a
Speaker 1: trick to try to help with this, to distinguish reality
Speaker 1: from otherwise. What did I teach you about when you
Speaker 1: see things that might not really be there, I asked her,
Speaker 1: reminding her of a technique a psychiatrist taught me years ago.
Speaker 1: To close my eyes and count to five, she said,
Speaker 1: and then I pushed further and then open him again.
Speaker 1: And it will be gone. I smiled at her, Glad
Speaker 1: she remembered trying now, I suggested Leny squeeze her eyes
Speaker 1: shut and began to count to five, one, two, three,
Speaker 1: four five. A moment after she finished, she opened her
Speaker 1: eyes again, looking back toward the window. It didn't work, Tara, look.
Speaker 1: I took another look, but this time it was different.
Speaker 1: Hiding behind the sheer curtains, I could make out a
Speaker 1: shape standing there. At first I thought it was just
Speaker 1: a coat rack or a piece of furniture, but then
Speaker 1: I watched as it pulled the curtains back. There was
Speaker 1: a man wearing a hat standing at the window, and
Speaker 1: with a ghastly smile, he was staring directly at us.
Speaker 1: Lighthouse will return after these messages, and now back to lighthouse.
Speaker 1: The man stared down at us, a terribly creepy smile
Speaker 1: across his lips, and I screamed. My sister, startled by
Speaker 1: my screaming, began to do so herself. My parents, so
Speaker 1: halfway up the stairs, already dropped everything and ran back
Speaker 1: to us. My mother consoled me, wrapping me in a
Speaker 1: tight hug. As she held me, my father frantically asked
Speaker 1: what was wrong? There's someone in the house, I told him.
Speaker 1: He looked at me bewildered as my sister and I
Speaker 1: pointed toward the window. However, the man wasn't there. Now.
Speaker 1: What did he look like? My father asked, my sister explained,
Speaker 1: and he went white as a ghost. My mother, concerned
Speaker 1: for everyone's safety, told my father to go inside and check.
Speaker 1: He was caught off guard at first and seemed uneasy
Speaker 1: with the idea, but he relented, as he often did
Speaker 1: with her, and carefully made his way to the front door.
Speaker 1: Before he went inside, he looked to us nervously, with
Speaker 1: a slight nod of his head, disappeared into the house.
Speaker 1: The minutes that followed were tense, as we saw nor
Speaker 1: heard anything from inside the house. It only took a
Speaker 1: minute or two before my mother thought better of sending
Speaker 1: him in there and called out to him to return. Unfortunately,
Speaker 1: there was no response. Henry. She called again, Henry, come back,
Speaker 1: Still there was nothing. A sense of dread fell over
Speaker 1: us all like a blanket. Did we unwittingly send my
Speaker 1: father to face off against an intruder? Was he okay?
Speaker 1: Why wasn't he? Answering us? She called out one final time,
Speaker 1: Please Henry. We waited. The seconds turned into a minute,
Speaker 1: then two. It was unbearable for us. My mother was anxious,
Speaker 1: ready to run in herself. And then he appeared at
Speaker 1: the window where we spotted the man in a hat earlier.
Speaker 1: My father looked down at us. He under the latch,
Speaker 1: opened the window and called down to us. All clear,
Speaker 1: he said, with only a slight hint of unease in
Speaker 1: his voice. Moments later he rejoined us outside. As it
Speaker 1: turns out, my first instinct was correct. There was a
Speaker 1: coat rack near the window, a trick of the light.
Speaker 1: He told us, your mind fooled you. Despite his saying that,
Speaker 1: I couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling building within me. However,
Speaker 1: he was quiet on the matter after that, instead asking
Speaker 1: for my help and bringing the bags in. I did
Speaker 1: as I was told. But my sister, however, sat outside,
Speaker 1: her gaze never wavering from the window. Lifting one of
Speaker 1: my bags, I made my way up the steps toward
Speaker 1: the house, my sense of foreboding slowly dissipating by the
Speaker 1: sheer size of what lay before me, only seeing it
Speaker 1: from the distance earlier. The front door was more decorative
Speaker 1: than I originally thought. The letter l in the center
Speaker 1: of the stained glass obviously stood for light, but it
Speaker 1: also contained smaller imagery lighthouses standing on guard on both
Speaker 1: sides of the letter itself, a black cloud escaping from
Speaker 1: what looked to be a well, a sea of blue
Speaker 1: along the bottom, with a full moon lording over it all.
Speaker 1: I pushed the door open further and took my first
Speaker 1: steps in. The inside of lighthouse was just as impressive
Speaker 1: as out, albeit a bit dustier. The vestibule made way
Speaker 1: into the main hall, with a grand staircase being the
Speaker 1: focal point of the room. It stretched upward to the
Speaker 1: second floor before branching off towards the third. Above my head,
Speaker 1: Leany came up behind me, silent in her approach, and
Speaker 1: startled me out of my awestruck daydream. Is all this hours?
Speaker 1: She asked me. I looked at her and smiled, It
Speaker 1: is now. She grabbed my hand and took off down
Speaker 1: the hall, the need to discover the house and all
Speaker 1: its glory overtaking her fear from a few short minutes ago.
Speaker 1: I dropped my bags somewhere during our expedition as the
Speaker 1: ground floor opened before us, two young girls exploring uncharted territory.
Speaker 1: Since the first floor was meant as a living space
Speaker 1: of the home. It had more wide open spaces than most.
Speaker 1: A formal dining room was next to the kitchen, while
Speaker 1: a parlor was just beyond that. It's high vaulted ceilings
Speaker 1: and tasseled draperies giving it a sense of grandeur. The
Speaker 1: silarium gave way to the side yard, its glass windows
Speaker 1: allowing the sun to shine in brightly on the various
Speaker 1: plant life, with seating areas all around to enjoy the
Speaker 1: ocean view it afforded. On the other end of the
Speaker 1: house was the library, It's two sprawling floors of dark wood,
Speaker 1: allowing for a vast selection of books, complete with an
Speaker 1: ornate fireplace to cozy up next to. A metal spiral
Speaker 1: staircase in the center allowed for easy access to all.
Speaker 1: It was a place I imagined I would spend a
Speaker 1: lot of time in. I took a moment to take
Speaker 1: it all in, the musty smell of old books, the
Speaker 1: vast collection of them before me, and also a melody
Speaker 1: wafting in from somewhere beyond. And my parents decided to
Speaker 1: play a record elsewhere in the house. We had only
Speaker 1: just arrived, and I was sure that even if they
Speaker 1: had come across a record player. Unpacking would be their
Speaker 1: first order of business. I strained my ears trying to
Speaker 1: place the song, or even just its point of origin.
Speaker 1: It felt like it was coming from everywhere at once,
Speaker 1: while also nowhere at all. It had a haunting quality
Speaker 1: about it, and I could feel myself getting lost in
Speaker 1: its music. Seeing my state of distraction, Lenie sees the
Speaker 1: opportunity for a game. Catch me if you can, she
Speaker 1: yelled as she wasted no time in running up the
Speaker 1: spiral staircase, excited, running from shelf to shelf for a
Speaker 1: quick glance at all the dusty volumes that sat untouched
Speaker 1: for years. It wasn't long before she threw open a
Speaker 1: door and ran off to explore the rest of the
Speaker 1: second story. By the time I reached the door she
Speaker 1: disappeared behind, she was long out of sight. I found
Speaker 1: myself staring down a long hallway. The walls here were
Speaker 1: decorated with dark wood panels with detailed interior trim that
Speaker 1: went from the floor till about halfway up, where old
Speaker 1: and curling wallpaper took over before reaching the ceiling. The
Speaker 1: hallway itself seemed impossibly long, with a multitude of doors
Speaker 1: on either side until splitting off in both directions at
Speaker 1: the end. For a moment, it almost seemed to sense
Speaker 1: my disorientation and stretched itself even further. However, a quick
Speaker 1: shake of my head with close eyes jostled that vision away,
Speaker 1: and I began to search for my sister. While I
Speaker 1: did not find her, what I did find were more
Speaker 1: rooms that I could grasp. Multiple rooms, some even with
Speaker 1: balconies overlooking the grounds, were among my discoveries. I also
Speaker 1: found double doors leading to common rooms and plenty of
Speaker 1: hidden nooks for someone to hide away in. I was
Speaker 1: overwhelmed by the house is almost rambling complexity, and felt
Speaker 1: more as if in the Minotaurs maze than my new
Speaker 1: family home. Most rooms were already furnished, with furniture still
Speaker 1: covered in thin white sheets from days long before us
Speaker 1: occupying the rooms. When I did finally discover Leni's hiding place,
Speaker 1: it was amongst a horride of dolls in one of
Speaker 1: the bedrooms, her face barely sticking out from behind them
Speaker 1: as she pretended to be one of them. It played
Speaker 1: along at first declaring loudly that I wondered where she
Speaker 1: could be, causing her to fall into a fit of giggles.
Speaker 1: If she knew what awaited us that night, she wouldn't
Speaker 1: have laughed. Lighthouse were returned after a word from our sponsors,
Speaker 1: and now lighthouse continues. Leni later declared to our parents
Speaker 1: that the very room she was hiding in was to
Speaker 1: be her bedroom. Receiving no opposition from them, she moved
Speaker 1: her things into it immediately. Wanting to be a good sister,
Speaker 1: I chose the room across the hall, which was well
Speaker 1: suited for me, complete with a reading nook and balcony
Speaker 1: overlooking the front yard. It received plenty of natural light.
Speaker 1: Not to mention, it was twice as big as my
Speaker 1: sister's I wish I could say that that first night
Speaker 1: in our new home was uneventful. After hours of unpacking
Speaker 1: and settling in, we were all thoroughly exhausted from our
Speaker 1: long day. I fell asleep almost instantly, my body sinking
Speaker 1: into the bed with ease. I don't recall the exact
Speaker 1: time it happened, but I awoke to Leni climbing into
Speaker 1: bed with me. I assumed she was a bit nervous
Speaker 1: about sleeping alone in a new house, but when I
Speaker 1: heard a soft sob, I knew it was something else.
Speaker 1: What's wrong, I said to her, and she buried her
Speaker 1: head in my pillow. I saw him again, she replied,
Speaker 1: fighting back tears. So I asked, not fully comprehending what
Speaker 1: she meant, the man in the hat. As soon as
Speaker 1: the words escaped from her lips, I felt a chill
Speaker 1: run down my spine. He was standing in my doorway,
Speaker 1: watching me sleep. When I asked my hackles raising, concerned
Speaker 1: that there was an intruder in her home just now,
Speaker 1: I closed my eyes and counted to five until he
Speaker 1: was gone, And when he was I ran here. Even
Speaker 1: in the darkness, I could feel her eyes welling with
Speaker 1: tears as she stared at me. Despite the fact that
Speaker 1: our father did not find anyone earlier, I felt the
Speaker 1: need to check for myself. At the very least, I
Speaker 1: needed to tell my parents. After I reassured her that
Speaker 1: everything was going to be okay and crept to the door,
Speaker 1: the hallway was empty, the shadows my only companion. Looking
Speaker 1: toward my right was a bit easier, as my mother
Speaker 1: had enough foresight to plug in a nightlight earlier. This
Speaker 1: turned out to be both a blessing and a curse,
Speaker 1: because as my eyes adjusted, I made out a dark
Speaker 1: shape toward the end of the hall. At first I
Speaker 1: thought it was a trick of the light, but movement
Speaker 1: caused me to realize otherwise. Coming out of the darkness
Speaker 1: was exactly what my sister exclaimed it to be, a
Speaker 1: man wearing a hat. Though down the hall, I could
Speaker 1: tell that he was dressed almost in Edwardian fashion, with
Speaker 1: a bowler hat atop his head, and his feet didn't
Speaker 1: seem to touch the floor. Instead, he gently floated a
Speaker 1: few inches above it. I instinctively leaned back, startled at
Speaker 1: the sight before me. This couldn't be real, This couldn't
Speaker 1: be happening. Using my own advice, closed my eyes and
Speaker 1: I counted five, one, two, three, four five. I hesitated
Speaker 1: only a moment before taking another look, and I regretted
Speaker 1: it as soon as I did. The man in the
Speaker 1: hat was still there. He was now standing before my
Speaker 1: parents bedroom, and I watched in horror as he reached
Speaker 1: out to open it. Startled by this, I fell back
Speaker 1: against the door frame. I tried to be silent, but lighthouse,
Speaker 1: being as old as it was, wasn't conducive to being quiet.
Speaker 1: My foot landed on an old floorboard and it creaked.
Speaker 1: A panic set over me as I saw the man
Speaker 1: in the hat's head began to turn in my direction.
Speaker 1: Without wasting any time, I slammed my door shut and
Speaker 1: shoved the bolt into lock position. I ran to my bed,
Speaker 1: jumped in next to my sister, and pulled the covers
Speaker 1: up over my head. Lenny could tell I was terrified,
Speaker 1: and she responded in kind. Tera what's wrong, she asked,
Speaker 1: in a panic. Be quiet, I hissed, and she was.
Speaker 1: Both of us sat there, holding each other in the
Speaker 1: darkness beneath the sheets, hoping against all hope that whatever
Speaker 1: that thing was would pass us by. Every second we
Speaker 1: waited seemed to stretch on for an hour. Every slight
Speaker 1: rustle of the sheets was like a deafening roar. After
Speaker 1: what felt like days, I poked my head out. I
Speaker 1: was greeted only by silence. Stealing a quick glance, I
Speaker 1: could see the night light from the hall spilling in
Speaker 1: from beneath my door, a small triangle of hope and
Speaker 1: the darkness of night. My sister took a peek as well.
Speaker 1: We were safe. We relaxed A tiny bit coming out
Speaker 1: from beneath the blanket, the threat of the man in
Speaker 1: the hat came from the door. My eyes were drawn
Speaker 1: to the night outside my win nose. Beyond the balcony
Speaker 1: stood the lighthouse. It stood silently in the darkness, a
Speaker 1: long dormant guardian until it wasn't. A dim glow appeared
Speaker 1: in the night atop the lighthouse, as if someone had
Speaker 1: lit a candle up there. I gasped silently, confused, much
Speaker 1: like the house, it was to be empty, not just
Speaker 1: because my grandmother's death, but because it was no longer
Speaker 1: in use. I was about to get up and take
Speaker 1: a closer look, and then I heard the floorboard creak.
Speaker 1: My eyes grew wide as I watched the light outside
Speaker 1: my door disappear as a long shadow cut into it.
Speaker 1: I could almost see the feet that belonged to the
Speaker 1: man in the hat in the gap between my door
Speaker 1: frame and the floor, as they floated just above it.
Speaker 1: The feeling of dread I felt earlier as we drove
Speaker 1: up to lighthouse returned weighing heavy on my chest. I
Speaker 1: held my breath in terror. So my door knob began
Speaker 1: to turn slowly first, but with more force it made
Speaker 1: a full rotation. Something pushing against it trying to get in.
Speaker 1: As my sister let under yelp. I covered my mouth
Speaker 1: with my hand, eyes never leaving the door's handle, thankful
Speaker 1: thought to lock it earlier, but the locked door did
Speaker 1: not stop that thing outside. Instead, it doubled its efforts,
Speaker 1: jiggling the knob harder and faster, trying as best as
Speaker 1: it could to force its way in. We threw the
Speaker 1: covers back overhead, both of us crying out for our parents,
Speaker 1: hugging each other closer, waiting for the assault to end.
Speaker 1: The door rattled and its frame beneath it's might, shuddering
Speaker 1: with every jolt as we both waited for the one
Speaker 1: that would eventually take it off its hinges and into
Speaker 1: my room. That went on and on and on, never
Speaker 1: ending in our minds, driving us to the edge of
Speaker 1: our sanity, until eventually subsided. Neither of us moved a
Speaker 1: muscle even well after it ended. We were both too
Speaker 1: scared and too tired to even consider it. At some point,
Speaker 1: I'm not sure when we both drifted off to sleep,
Speaker 1: still holding each other close beneath the covers. It should
Speaker 1: come of no surprise that I didn't sleep well, tossing
Speaker 1: and turning until the sun made its first appearance on
Speaker 1: the horizon. Its first rays of warm light, or a
Speaker 1: welcome respite from the night. In the clarity of the morning,
Speaker 1: it almost seemed like the terror from the night before
Speaker 1: wasn't as bad as we remembered it to be. Perhaps
Speaker 1: it was nothing more than an incredibly vivid dream. Deep inside,
Speaker 1: I knew that wasn't the truth. Even after my sister awoke,
Speaker 1: her face still streaked with tears of terror, I knew
Speaker 1: what we had experienced was real. I should have savored
Speaker 1: that night. I should have enjoyed what little sleep we
Speaker 1: did manage to get. I should have told my parents
Speaker 1: as soon as it happened, and not waited until the
Speaker 1: next day. But I didn't any of those things, which,
Speaker 1: despite my youth, made me complicit. And what was to come,
Speaker 1: because now that Lighthouse had us in its grasp, it
Speaker 1: wasn't going to let us go. Lighthouse is a production
Speaker 1: of I Heart Radio and Bamford Productions. Chapter one featured
Speaker 1: the voices of Ali Trasher, John McCormick, and Paulina Logan.
Speaker 1: Written and directed by Jeff Himbuck, Audio engineering and original
Speaker 1: musical score by Corey Celeste. Production assistants by Alex Gona.
Speaker 1: Executive produced by Holly fry, questions, comments, You can reach
Speaker 1: us at the Man in the Hat is Watching at
Speaker 1: gmail dot com. Thank you for listening. M.