Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:02):
Lighthouse is a production of I Heart Radio and Bamford Productions.
The light from the beacon is blinding tonight. It's been
glowing for hours, steadily getting brighter, and I know that
means my time is finally come. The darkness means to
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finish this. For most of my life, I've been plagued
by the darkness that lives here. It could be argued
that I was a victim of circumstance, doomed to face
the horrors within because of my family's history with the house,
born and built of their money, their sweat, their blood.
Has sometimes occurred to me that perhaps the house had
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trapped the holliest family in a cycle, one that allowed
them moments of hope of getting away until they were
forced back into its grasp, so it could continue to
feed on their suffering until it stripped them defenseless before
ending them. Certainly felt that way for us, But truth
be told, I felt that it didn't care who it
fed on, just as long as it continued to feed,
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sustaining itself over and over again, presumably until the end
of time. Did a toy with us to make its
meal taste better? Did it enjoy our suffering? Or was
it more mindless than that, just eating away until it
was ready to burst, lying and wait until it's hunger
reared its ugly head again at the end of the day.
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Whatever its reasons, it didn't matter. It just needed to stop.
It tortured me while I lived here, and then followed
me beyond. No matter what I did or how far
away I ran, it always managed to catch up to me.
Over the years, it managed to take everything from me,
my father, my mother, my sister, and now my own family.
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But I've had enough. I'm going to finish what my
sister started and do what no one else has managed
to do. And all the houses long storied past, It's
time to fight back. It's time for this to end.
It's time for Lighthouse to die. Lighthouse, Chapter ten. When
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my mother died and I left the house to rot,
everything went according to plan for a long time. I
went home, I hugged my husband and my son, and
life went on. As much as I wanted to, I
couldn't bring myself to listen to Lini's goodbye. Hearing her
suicide note in her own words felt like too much,
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And with the house locked up and abandoned, I didn't
think I needed to, so the canister containing her final manifesto,
along with the box of things she left me, like
her teddy bear, sat in my closet unheard. If I
had been braver listened to it, sooner, one of what
happened after would have come to pass. I was too stubborn,
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too afraid to listen. Instead, much like the house, I
let it sit and rock until I lost My son.
Kevin had grown up and made us proud. He was
a wonderful young man and even went off to start
a family of his own. His wife, Meredith was lovely,
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and my grandson Ben was our I'd enjoy. We didn't
get to see them much as they moved to the
West Coast, but when we did, my husband Chris and
I spoiled Ben and gave him the world. They came
to visit us last year, their first visit in a
few months. Ben had just turned three, and we went
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out to dinner for his birthday. The meal was delightful.
After we all piled into the car for the drive home,
Chris drove and Kevin sat in the front up with him,
while myself, Meredith and Ben sat in the back. We laughed,
sang songs, together, and we're having a wonderful time until
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we were wrapped around a telephone pole. It happened too
quickly at the time, but looking back later on, I
can see every single detail in slow motion. Chris didn't
see the man in the intersection until it was too late.
He came out of nowhere, and Chris swerved at the
last moment, avoiding a collision with the man, but not
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with the pole. We hit it going far too fast,
and my world changed in a second by some small miracle.
Ben was bruised and scared, but otherwise all right. Meredith
wasn't as lucky. She spent two weeks in the I
c U, where it was touch and go for a while.
Chris's airbag sustained most of his damage, but his back
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would never be the same. But Kevin. They found Kevin
a few yards from the car. He was thrown through
the windshield. No one seemed to question the fact that
his seatbelt was on and secure. They just told us
that these things happened sometimes. As for the man in
the intersection, he was gone. The police thought maybe he
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got scared and took off, not wanting to stick around
for the aftermath of his wrongdoing. He was walking through
an intersection illegally after all, but playing it all back
in my mind over and over again, I knew the truth.
I saw the man in the intersection before we swerved
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to avoid hitting him. I saw the way he looked
right at me and smiled. I saw him tip his
hat as he watched us crash. I saw him, and
he saw me. The man in the intersection was Alexander
blythe a man in the hat. I had not seen
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him since that night in the lighthouse where I saw
a vision of his death all those years ago. I thought,
perhaps now that I knew his secret, his death, he
would be gone forever. I was wrong. I didn't know
why he appeared now after so long. In the intervening
years after my mother's death, I finally broke down and
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told Chris about the house and all I had been through.
He didn't know how to take it, but promised to
be there for me if I ever needed him. That
was a lie, though. Days after the accident, I told
Chris who the man in the intersection was, and he
thought I was being irrational, mad with grief. He called
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it feeling guilty over the death of our son and
looking for an explanation, and where there was none to
be had, my brain just connected the dots. He brought
up my past, when I was taken to all those doctors,
when I saw things that weren't there. He was sure
that was it my mind trying to make sense of
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a senseless situation. He didn't have to say it out loud,
but I know what he was thinking. My husband thought
I was crazy, but I knew the truth why the
man in the hat had come back. Because no matter
how far you run, or how over you think things,
maybe Lighthouse will never let you go, not until it
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gets what it wants. And after all this time, all
these years, it still wanted one thing me. The way
I saw it, it wasn't going to stop until it
got me. I'm sure the darkness could have easily picked
me off anywhere in the world if it really wanted to.
But that wouldn't do, would it. It needed me home,
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back at Lighthouse, and it would do everything it could
to get me to return, everything including destroying my family.
It had already killed the family I was born into,
and now it was coming for the one I had made.
This car accident, the loss of Kevin. It was a message,
and it wouldn't stop until I obeyed. The crash drove
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me to break down and finally listened to Leni's message.
I clutched the Teddy Bear as it played. The recording
warped and bent, but I heard her. After all these years,
I heard what she had to say. On the night
of her death. Learning that she did not kill herself
as everyone thought showed me that this was not over,
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that it would never be over until I stopped it.
I left Chris a week to Kevin's funeral. It broke
my heart to push him away, but I had no choice.
I didn't want to lose him, or Ben or even Meredith.
If I had stayed, I would have lost them all.
Lighthouse would see to that. I couldn't stand to let
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anyone else get hurt, so I left. I left a
note telling them not to look for me, that this
was something I had to deal with on my own.
I told Chris. I knew he didn't understand, that he
couldn't I didn't expect him to, but this needed to
be done, and that one day I hoped to come
back to him. I knew that was a lie. There
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was no coming back, not with what I had planned.
It took me two days to make it back to lighthouse.
I traveled by buses and taxis, using only cash, not
wanting Chris to find out where I had gone. Three
times on my journey I came across the man in
the hat. He looked sad, but still smiled at me,
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nodding as if please with my decision to return home.
I hated him for that. I hitchhiked on the final
leg and had the driver dropped me off a mile
away from the house so to not arouse suspicion. I
didn't mind walking the rest of the way. It helped
clear my head and mentally prepare myself further to be back.
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The entry gates were locked tight when I arrived, decorated
by an old keep out sign that had been placed
there under my direction years ago. Despite the sign and
the locked entry, I was sure that intrepid explorers of
abandoned places had been here over the years. I could
see the house as I walked down the driveway. It
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was the same as it had always been, large and foreboding,
but now with more rot and deterioration, it still stood, unfortunately,
but it was clearly neglected. It was falling apart, deserted
for years. Paint per old windows were broken, and there
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was even graffiti strewn across one side. It made me
happy to see it in such a state. The inside
was just as bad as out. Wayward teenagers had obviously
been here amongst other transients, partying hard and leaving their mark,
and the house was in shambles. Colorful drawings and language
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decorated the walls, Furniture was broken, and an awful smell
permeated from somewhere deep within. I smiled. Despite this one
a year history of neglect and abuse that Lighthouse had suffered,
I still felt that it wasn't enough. I still wanted
it to suffer. My plan originally was to arrive, do
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what needed to be done, and be finished with it.
But now I wanted more. I wanted to extend that
pain it went through. I wanted it to feel what
I had felt. My plan of all in my head.
What if I stayed for a bit, What if I
made it think it had finally gotten to me, driven
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me mad, and I had returned to Lighthouse to live
out my final days. What if I let it think
it had won, had finally broken me? That way when
I struck back, it would not suspect a thing dangerous. Yes, stupid, absolutely,
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but with what I planned on doing anyway, there was
no other option. And when the darkness thought it had
me right where it wanted me, I would burn it
to the ground. Lighthouse will return. After these messages, and
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now back to Lighthouse. I have been back at Lighthouse
for six months now. I've been living with no power,
no water, no means of communication with the outside world.
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I've got nothing but my own wits and the ghosts
to keep me company, and books, plenty of books. Despite
the years of neglect to the house, the library was
in surprisingly good condition. I spend my days in other worlds,
fictional ones, and rediscovered old favorites along with some new classics.
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I made use of the reading nooks throughout the house,
hiding away to immerse myself in the books. If not
for being in Lighthouse, it would have been perfect. As expected.
Rumors began to spread throughout the town. How could they not,
The once long abandoned house was showing signs of life again.
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Candles were seen to be lit at night, Shadowy figures
roam the halls, sightings of an eccentric old woman were reported.
The house was already the source of urban legends, but
my sporadic appearances only added fuel to that fire. I
didn't mind let them talk. Rumors only helped my case,
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especially after a few enterprising teenagers paid me a visit
to see if the stories were drew. A few rattling
chains and scary noises later, I became a ghost of
sorts myself. I didn't get any more visitors after that,
ones that were alive anyway. The ghosts of Lighthouse were
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always around, keeping an eye on me, and it was
already perfectly clear what they wanted. But like a greedy child,
they wanted to see me suffer to ripen their meal
until the darkness was ready to strike. I played my part.
When the thing in the tree appeared, its neck straining
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against the ropes and its eyes bulging from beneath the sack,
I screamed. When the servants stalked from room to roam,
the rust colored stain forming on his back, I ran
from him. When the maid's eyes ran red as she
approached me, I covered my own eyes and counted to five.
Despite the show I made of it inside, I was
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no longer afraid of them. What was the point of
being afraid. If I had nothing left to lose, if
I didn't even fear the end of my own life,
I could never know that though, where all would be
for not. During these six long months, I wandered the house.
I visited rooms I hadn't seen years. I spent time
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reacquainting myself with its nooks and crannies, and most of all,
made mental notes of every square inch of it, including
the lighthouse. The sea air did not help its already
crumbling state, but that was to be expected, considering how
close to the edge of the bluff it was. The walls,
once strong and sturdy, were now falling to pieces. The
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windows along the sides were now joined by large gaping
holes where the stone had fallen away. It's a wonder
it was still standing to begin with, but somehow, perhaps
through sheer stubbornness, it did it's time. When I made
the trek to its top, there were no visions of
the past, no big revelations or hidden recordings, just a
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spectacular view of the Atlantic, marred only by the presence
of the house itself. I often found myself in a
room I never spent much time, and as a kid
my father's old study. The once vibrant room was in
shambles these days. However, the fire place still worked just fine,
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and his old easy chair was quite comfortable, so it
made for the perfect area to sit unbothered for a bit.
I read there a lot, mostly the fictional tales that
stock the library, but I also read up on local
history of the area. The library had plenty of books
of this nature, and I learned quite a bit about
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the town and its surrounding areas, including my family history.
Tuck deep within the stacks was a handwritten tone by
a distant relative, one that tracked the Hollest family and
its fortunes. Reading it, the question that still lingered in
my mind was about the construction of the house itself.
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It made sense for the lighthouse to be on the bluff,
as it was a perfect vantage point for the ocean.
But as for the house, why why did the Hollest
family choose here? Why did my family think that this
was the perfect location for their stately manner? What attracted
them to it? The Hollies family was already rich before
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lighthouse was built, and they used their vast fortune to
buy the land. My great great grandfather James Hollis, while
a brilliant business man, apparently had a bit of a
mean streak within him. He was a miserable bastard. It
was heavily implied that he was somewhat of a sadist.
The Hollis family was engrossed with scandal since coming to
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the area. It seemed. News clippings told of affairs, money launderings,
and servant girls that had gone missing over the years
while working at lighthouse. While James Hollis was never directly
connected to any of them, the timing was suspicious. My
great great grandfather was no saint, but he clearly did
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not bring the darkness with him. Perhaps it called out
to him. It sendsed him out in the world and
beckoned him like a beacon in the night, much like
the lighthouse itself. And once he set foot on the land,
the seed was planted, and the darkness would have him.
It was pure conjecture, of course, but in its own
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way made sense. It was while I was engrossed with
these thoughts one evening that I received a visitor I
did not expect. I was standing in front of the fireplace,
looking into my father's painted eyes, lost in thought, When
I heard a noise behind me, I assumed I was
about to come face to face with one of the
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many ghosts of the house I've encountered over the years.
But when I turned, I found someone else entirely sitting
in the easy chair. My father. Hello, Terra, he said,
causing me to scream, my first legitimate scream since returning home.
Not only had I not seen my father since the
night he died, but this was also the first time
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one of the ghosts of Lighthouse spoke. It caught me
so off guard that I stump mold backward into the fireplace,
catching myself only at the last second before I fell. Thankfully,
he appeared before me, as he had in life and
not in his final moments. The thought of seeing him
with a knife plunged into the back of his head
made me sick to my stomach, and it was not
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something I could handle. I thought I was prepared for
everything the darkness could throw at me, but the appearance
of my father was an unexpected wrinkle, one that bent
my resolve. However, I steeled myself against the mantel, ready
to face it. I've missed you, he said, a drink
suddenly appearing in his hand. He took a sip, licking
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his ghostly lips before setting it down on the table
next to him. Well what do you want, I asked,
trying to hide the tremble in my voice. This house,
it really gets to you. That's why after my sister died,
I knew I had to leave as soon as I could.
But it has ways of bringing us back, doesn't it.
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He smiled, one that was not unlike the man in
the hat. What do you want? I asked again, more forcefully,
this time not hiding the anger in my voice. It's
not what I want. It's what it wants, what it
always wanted. He stood from his chair and I fell backwards, startled.
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He stood over me, looking down at his little girl,
now a grown woman that he had never got to
see grow up. I'm a lost cause, he said, as
he rubbed the scar on his ghostly palm. No hope
from me. It took me long before we even came back.
Please don't, I muttered, as he leaned down, getting closer.
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Please just go away. I know what you're trying to do.
Tera I froze, thinking that my plan was found out,
my chances for survival over. But then he smiled at me.
This one was kinder, warmer than before. His hand caressed
my cheek, and though I couldn't feel it, a shiver
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ran through me. I won't stop you, he said. You're
a brave girl, much stronger than I ever was. He stood,
walking back to his easy chair before he sank down
into it again. Do what I couldn't save your mother
and sister for me, he continued, taking one final drink
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from the glass. I'm sorry, he whispered as he faded away.
I cried myself to sleep that night. The Darkness hadn't
sent my father, but instead he came of his own
accord and an act of redemption, not for himself but
for me. After that night, I knew it was all
coming to a head. He must have sensed it and
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appeared to give me the final push I needed to
ready myself. But he wasn't the only one herd at work.
The Darkness was ever present during these last few days.
It stalked me from a distance, its form bulging from
the walls, floors, and ceilings as it followed my every move.
At night, it stood over me, its shimmering blackness, unmoving
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as it savored every moment of my suffering. Its suffering
would be worse. Lighthouse will return after a word from
our sponsors, And now lighthouse continues. So now here I am,
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after all these years recording my story. Will I think
anyone will ever hear this? No, not likely. I'll perish
like everything else in the end. I'm surprised this old
reel to reel even lasted this long, considering all it's
been through. But getting it off my chest, hearing it
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in my own words for the first time, just getting
it out there in the world makes me feel better,
especially about what I'm about to do. You see, I
learned something from Leny, especially from her goodbye. She wasn't
wrong about what needed to be done, but she was
wrong with how she went about it. It's not just
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the lighthouse that needs to burn, it's everything. In order
for the fire to cleanse, to burn out the evil
that lives here, the house needs to go too. Hell,
the whole damn property needs to be raised. And with
any luck, when it's all gone, we'll be free. Every
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spirit trapped in that house, every entity walking the grounds,
and every bit of family I lost, all free, like
a phoenix rising from the ashes. Hopefully a new story
can be told here, one filled with good and light
instead of darkness. But in order for that to happen,
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to give it a chance, it all needs to go.
That's why I set fire to lighthouse a few minutes ago.
What did you think I was just going to talk
about it without doing it. I know how the darkness operates,
and even the slightest hint of my plan it would
have tried to stop me. So I told my story
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and let it listen, and before I wrapped it up,
I snuck into the house and did it. It wasn't easy.
I've spent the last day or so dousing the house
in gasoline, slowly but deliberately, every single room, wall to
wall to make sure it would all go. I didn't
stop there either. The red oak out front, the porch,
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everything covered in gasoline. I know it doesn't last long.
It would eventually dry out and become useless, but the
cold winter weather kept it long enough for my plan
to work. And just now, before coming back here, I
set it a fire right where it started for us,
to right where I thought it would hurt it the most.
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In the dark room here I stand on the balcony
at the top of the lighthouse. Watching my old home burn,
seeing it engulfed in flames is very emotionally satisfying for me.
I can tell you that it's almost out of a dream,
very happy, strange dream. But I know my job isn't done.
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There's still one thing left to burn, left to destroy
before the darkness gets to me. Below me, those old
wooden boxes that Leoni dragged into the lighthouse are still there,
but this time covered in gasoline too, So is the
apartment below. Even the beacon itself, its phantom light is
shining bright, like a cry for help, as if it
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knows the fate that it's about to befall. The smell
of smoke coming off the house almost chokes me, but
I hold on, still, knowing that this last act is
one of redemption. The match I hold in my hand
is ready to strike, eager to set this structure ablaze,
and its moment is finally here. I can see the
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shadowy thing coming from me now, darting out of the house,
just like it did for Leni all those years ago.
Do you hear its whispers? Do they sound pained? It's
like music to my ears, like that music box we
loved and then came to hate for what it represented.
The Shadow isn't alone either. I can see all the
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others now too, joining it. The servant, the maid, the
chattering little boy, the thing in the tree, all of them.
They're coming for me. And as the Shadow rushes past them,
it consumes them, drawing on their power, adding to its own,
trying to get the strength it's so desperately needs to
stop me. But this time I'm ready for it, ready
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for all of them, ready to strike back and take
them down. There's a darkness that dwells in the center
of the world, that seeks its way up through the
ground and forces itself into our lives. But now it's
time to force it back. I can hear the darkness
below me crashing through the door at the bottom of
the lighthouse, forcing its way up towards me through the
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crumbling structure. And yet still I wait, holding the match,
wanting it to see me strike it as I bring
the world down around it. I turned my back to
the house, looking at the stairwell where I came from,
and I'm not surprised by what I see. The man
in the hat is there with me now watch, Only
this time it's not like before, he's not the ghastly
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apparition that haunted my life. This time, he's only Alexander.
Blythe he nods and his sad smile tells me he's
ready for the end, just like me. I'm ready leaning
I'm scared in these final moments. I'm more scared than
I have ever been in my entire life. I close
my eyes, but instead of wishing it all away, I
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wish for it to end once and for all one.
I can hear the whispers now, the voices of a
thousand doomed souls consumed by the darkness. All of them
cry out at once, to their voices ring in my ear,
louder and louder. As the darkness gets closer, I can
hear its fury as it races towards me up the stairs.
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As I light the match against the wall three, I
can feel something take my hand, as if to reassure
me that it's going to be all right, and I
pray that it's you, Lany. I hope that it is.
I refuse to open my eyes to see because I'm
afraid if I do, I will lose my nerve and
all these will be for not for the darkness is here.
I can hear its shadowy form snaking up the stairs
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around the beacon, ready to pounce and consume me, to
finally take me as as prize, to devour my soul.
But five it's too late. I already dropped the match
to the puddle of gas at my feet, and my
world suddenly turns into an explosion of heat and light.
I can feel the intensity of the fire as strongly
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as I can hear the darkness scream. It burns and
it hurts, and I can feel myself give way toward
the darkness, not the one I have feared my entire life,
but one with the warm embrace of death. It wraps
its arms around me and takes me away, far away,
to finally be rid of the shadow that has chased us.
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With my final moments, I opened my eyes to see
the house engulfed in aimes lighthouse burning around me, in
the darkness itself, raging in the firelight, a smile as
it suffers. There's a darkness that dwells in the center
of the world, and I killed it. I didn't leany
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I finished what you started. We're free. Goodbye. M Lighthouse
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is a production of I Heart Radio and Bamford Productions.
Chapter ten featured the voices of Ali Trasher, Alyssa Rose,
and Matthew Tyler. Voice written and directed by Jeff Heimbuck
Audio engineering in original musical score by Corey Celeste, Production
assistance by Alex Gona. Executive produced by Holly Fry. Questions comments,
(32:24):
you can reach us at the Man in the Hat
is Watching at gmail dot com. Thank you for listening.
(32:48):
And in local news, a mysterious fire at a local landmark,
Miranda Cole has the story. Miranda, thanks Jim. For years,
the abandoned property on Lighthouse Point has intrigued locals, spawning
scores of urban legends and ghost stories. Now we can
add mysterious fire to that list, as one broke out
over the weekend, a fire that engulfed much of the property,
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including the residential building and the lighthouse. It was first
reported after midnight on Saturday, and as it grew out
of control, local firefighters were aided by their colleagues from
surrounding areas like Brick Point, Pleasant and Melancholy Falls to
fight it. Thankfully, just before dawn it was contained. Fire
Chief Gona had this to say, thanks to the valiant
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efforts of my team and our friends from neighboring towns,
we were able to prevent a tragedy and stop the
fire before it spread beyond Lighthouse Point. Despite the intensity
and length of the blaze, we were miraculously able to
save both buildings with minimal structural damage to both. We've
all heard the rumors of someone living on the property
of the past few months, and we did take that
into consideration. While the cause of the fire is still
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under investigation, authorities did make a thorough sweep of the
property after it was contained, and thankfully no casualties were reported.
I'm not taking any questions at this time. The land
is owned by Tara Hollis, but will soon pass into
township domain due to zoning laws. Since she has been
reported missing over six months ago. Town officials have already
started discussions about whether to just condemn the area or
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repair both structures and open the property as a public park.
More as it develops, but for now, I'm mirandical and
this is Action six News