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

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