Lights Out
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What is the main topic discussed in this episode?
I'm John Grills from Creepy, and I listen to the Be Afraid Podcast Network. No.
This is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous, chilling and disturbing creepy pastors and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened or are simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised.
Hey everyone. Looks like there were some more five year or more Patreon members that I still owe some added thanks to, so please join me in thanking I'm Dead and Still Listening, Miguel Alvarado, Kimberly Cooper, Darling, and Dan de Leon. To see how you can support the show and get rewarded for it. Please check out the donation tiers at patreon.com slash creepypod. First up, a grieving man mourning the death of his beloved dog discovers that something monstrous is stalking him through the darkness, forcing him to confront more than just its presence. From writer Reg Joliff, Creepy presents Lights Out. When the lights go out, so does the surety of my surroundings. I assume that I'm still in my living room, but for a moment there's no way to know for sure.
I focus on my other senses. The air smells like my living room. The faint smell of urine still lingers. I've gotten used to that smell. Tomorrow it'll be gone. With both hands I reach out into the darkness. That feels like my curtain. And my wall. I'm reminded of something I once heard from a documentary about deep sea creatures. It's estimated that a third of the animals on Earth have never seen sunlight. The fish and crustaceans at the bottom of the ocean live their entire lives in the dark. They don't stop swimming just because they can't see. So I start to walk. After two steps, my shin slams into the coffee table. Right where it bit me, or burned me, or whatever it did. I'm unnerved by the sound of my own gasp as it bounces off walls that could be sheetrock or limestone.
My hand reaches into my pocket to take out my phone and turn on the flashlight. to prove to myself that this is still my house and not some hollow cave. But I stopped myself. No light whatsoever. I can't even risk using the screen. I shuffle forward blindly, thinking that I'm probably walking through urine. Then I remember. After a couple of minutes my eyes adjust the darkness. I walk into the kitchen. Out of habit, I reach over and flip the switch on the wall. Shit. My eyes squint at the sudden brightness on my retinas. My fingers are still stuck to the plate of the light switch, but in my hysteria I can't seem to get them to swipe down and turn it off. A faint buzzing noise has entered the room. It could be the vibration of the bulbs overhead, or it could be the surreal flutter of that wicked creature as it moves between realms.
I looked down. There it is, spread thin across the linoleum, the shape of me, imitating my frozen posture. For a moment as I watch it, it only exists as my shadow. A dark, flat, indistinct version of myself. And I wonder if my mind made the whole thing up. But then, just as the pain in my legs surges, the head swivels to face me. The palms rest on the floor and press the body up, and now it stands in front of me. A faceless, silent silhouette. It lunges at me. My hands slide down, catching the switch just before the figure reaches me. Safe darkness is here again. I'm left alone to catch my breath as my eyes readjust and the framework of the kitchen slowly forms around me. Alone. Actually. Alone. For the first time in seventeen years.
I sit on the floor, my back leaning against cabinets. I remember a Boy Scout's camping trip from when I was twelve years old. Our sculpt master led us on a hike through the forest in the middle of the night with no flashlights. In the beginning I walked gingerly, tripping over roots, stretching my arms out in front of me to feel for branches. But by the end of the walk, I could see every loose twig on the ground. It takes almost an hour for the human eye to achieve night vision. I wait until I can see details of the room that were previously invisible.
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Chapters
4 chapters
1
What is the main topic discussed in this episode?
0:00–5:25
2
What triggers the narrator’s descent into darkness at the start of the story?
5:25–20:31
3
How does the narrator’s memory of a Boy Scout night hike explain his night‑vision adaptation?
20:31–33:47
4
Why does the narrator decide to euthanize his dog Lexi, and how does he feel about it?
33:47–1:09:39