A woman with damaged hearing must outwit a man intent on murder.

“Niobe Doesn’t Listen” by Andrea Stanet.

Narrated by Cherrae Stuart.

Audio production by Tonia Ransom and Ron Webb.

Executive Producer and Host: Tonia Ransom

NIGHTLIGHT is distributed by Rusty Quill.

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All episodes are brought to you in part by the NIGHTLIGHT Legion. Join us on Patreon for as little as $1 per month for ad-free episodes, and to help us produce more stories for you to enjoy.

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Transcript:

Hi. I’m Tonia Ransom, creator and executive producer of NIGHTLIGHT, a horror podcast featuring creepy tales written and performed by Black creatives from all over the world.

This week, a woman with damaged hearing must outwit a man intent on murder.

But before we get to concerts and consequences, I want to take a moment to say thanks to our newest patron, Travis. NIGHTLIGHT will be produced year-round thanks to the NIGHTLIGHT Legion, and now, we’d love to bring you new episodes every single week. Just go to patreon.com/nightlightpod to join the NIGHTLIGHT Legion and get a shoutout on the podcast. And don’t forget, NIGHTLIGHT merch is available and you can support us by sporting NIGHTLIGHT-branded gear. Just go to merch.nightlightpod.com to get your t-shirts, hoodies, notebooks, and more!

Now sit back, turn out the lights, and enjoy “Niobe Doesn’t Listen”, written by Andrea Stanet, narrated by Cherrae Stuart.

***

Niobe should have listened. But who wanted to wear earplugs at a concert? Especially when their favorite boy band was making a comeback after twenty-five years? 

In her excitement, she mentioned the show during her annual physical. Her doctor had warned, “Eardrum damage is a real thing, Niobe.”  

Even her mom and brother got on her case. “You’ll come back deaf if you make it back at all! Lord only knows what kind of craziness you’ll find out there.” 

“Y’all need to stop being overdramatic.” They acted like she hadn’t been getting along on her own since her twenties, running her own nonprofit canine rescue and adoption service. 

“Hard head makes a soft behind, baby.” Her mother had been saying that all her life, and so far, her butt was just fine. When the video call ended, she tossed her phone on the bed next to her concert outfit—an oversized tee and baggy cargo pants. Perfect for an early June night—the outfit identical to what her favorite member had worn on the jacket of the reunion album.

Even her friends scoffed. “Girl, how you going to a concert alone?”

“Why can’t I go somewhere alone? It’ll be an experience. Y’all are always talking about having experiences, right?” 

One eyeroll, a week, and a three-hour-concert later, she sat in her car––a dull, metallic drone the only thing she could hear. Pain flanked both sides of her head. Niobe tried to figure out how she would manage the drive to her hotel. 

She couldn’t. Or shouldn’t. This hearing loss was new and sudden for her, and she didn’t know how to navigate it. Driving would be a bad idea. Her choices this night were already biting her in the ass. 

Although she’d left the earbuds home, she had brought along a full bottle of ibuprofen. Shaking three into her hand, Niobe chased the pills down with the last bit of water she’d carried in her clear plastic concert tote. 

From behind the wheel of her blue hybrid compact, she saw the headlights of her fellow concertgoers filing out. Reclining in the seat, she closed her eyes to wait for the pain and traffic to subside. 

Rough shaking and a blinding light woke her sometime later. Hadn’t she locked the door? 

Disoriented, Niobe instinctively shoved her attacker—definitely a large male. Swiveling in the seat, she kicked out, flailing wildly around where his face should be to drive him farther away. He backed off, arms going up in defense. That at least got the light out of her eyes. 

Huffing, hands poised for round two, she realized she was facing a security guard. Chest rising and falling heavily, he held one hand out in a STOP gesture. The other rested on some object at his hip. Taser? Gun? Niobe didn’t want to find out. 

A woman of color plus middle-aged white guy with a weapon equaled a bad combination for her.

Shitshitshit! She’d attacked him. This was bad. So, so bad. 

She put her hands up to show she was surrendering and unarmed, as she’d been subtly taught for forty-plus. “Sir, I’m so sorry! I just fell asleep for a minute. Thought you were trying to rob me or something!” The ringing in her ears had lessened, yet even to herself, she sounded as if she were speaking from the depths of the Atlantic. A quick glance around at tall lights glowing down onto black pavement told her she was the last left in the lot. “Really sorry! Leaving now!” Was she shouting? Her face felt like she might be. “I-I’ll just be on my way!” 

The guard’s head cocked to one side. He was gesturing. His mouth moved, but she couldn’t understand a word. It didn’t seem aggressive. 

Niobe shook her head, pointing at her ear. “Can you repeat that?” She hoped the guy didn’t think she was drunk. She couldn’t be the first person to be unable to hear after a show. 

The middle-aged man with the receding hairline had features that all screamed average. He pinched the bridge of his nose, straightened, and rested both hands on his hips in clear sight. Leaning forward a little as if her eyesight had been affected as well as her hearing, he formed exaggerated shapes with his mouth. Asking if she was okay or if she needed help? Maybe telling her to go to hell for keeping him from going home. Lip reading had never been important to her.

“I’m fine! Leaving now!” She made the same over-emphasized mouth movements until she realized he wasn’t the one with the hearing problem. “Thanks for asking!”

He raised an eyebrow but shook his head once before backing off. He waved toward her car. She got in and started to put the hotel name into her phone’s GPS. There lay a big problem, but Niobe didn’t want to irritate this guy anymore. So she turned the car on, checked the map on her screen, wound her way through the stadium grounds, and pulled off to the side of the deserted service road. Several times, she checked the rearview mirror to see if the guard followed. Now she was just being paranoid.

But to soothe her nerves a bit, she rummaged through the center console box for the small can of pepper spray she kept there. She slid it into her pocket.

Not being able to recognize anything now didn’t help Niobe’s nerves any. It wasn’t like she would suddenly be at a different entrance than she’d come in. The dark just made it seem that way. Of course.

According to the map, this side road went on for about three miles. The motel was roughly five miles away through the New Jersey suburbs. At two a.m., there wasn’t any traffic, so her lack of hearing shouldn’t be a problem. The issue was the GPS instructions. She hated the idea of having to keep looking at the screen, especially at an hour when creatures would be likely to dart into the road. 

Awkwardly holding the cellphone in one hand, she navigated back onto the unlit road,  cautiously making her way toward her destination. Fortunately, the full moon shed a glimmer of light on the road where there were no streetlights. 

The next time she looked at her GPS, a gray RECALCULATING… message lit the screen. The road forked—Fallow Lane to the left, Barrens Circle to the right. Which way? Checking again, she saw that she had no service. Emergency calls only. 

She took the right fork. After a few minutes, a small green sign read: 

Welcome to The Pine Badlands

Home of the Jersey Devils

The last word had been vandalized and the S in Devils crossed out. 

There hadn’t been a pine anything when she checked the directions before. No forks, no turns…That damn guard, this whole experience since the concert ended had her all frazzled. Knotted up. And what the hell were the Devils—a baseball team or something? Some kid must have sprayed over the S trying to be edgy—put a scare into travelers along this road. Haha, very funny. Little bastard. Niobe shifted in her seat. Should have paid better attention to the map.

The solitude and staring into mostly nothingness, with the occasional long shadow cast by far-off trees, made her shoulders tense. The road was curvier than expected. It was impossible to tell which direction she headed. The lack of homes and people unnerved her. She was tempted to speed up, to reach her destination that much faster. But constantly having to glance at the screen, she decided it was worth the extra minutes to keep the speedometer under 40 mph. 

Niobe had only blinked when several tiny objects suddenly glinted in the road. The car lurched to the right. Her cell fumbled out of one hand when she clutched the steering wheel with both. She stomped on the brake. Too hard. The back of the car fishtailed around. 

The front of the car dipped, warping time into a trancelike slowness, that weightless sensation of a rollercoaster going down the first drop. She slammed against the driver’s door. A jolt across her chest sent blinding pain through her shoulder. White filled her vision as the airbag smashed Niobe’s face. Everything went dark. 

After an eternity, the tumbling stopped. 

Smothered. Unable to move or see… complete silence. The first word to form in her mind—coffin.

Breath came in short gasps. 

Scattered pains, mostly above the waist. An acrid smell prickled Niobe’s nose. Gas? Smoke? Something trickled over her top lip, followed by the metallic taste of blood on her tongue. 

The airbag began to deflate. Dashboard lights reminded her of what happened. An accident. The vehicle had rolled. 

This was not a coffin but her car. She was alive. 

Niobe’s heart pounded, her body quaked, and her fingers remained glued tightly to the wheel. Finally she shut her eyes, counting backward from a hundred to wrestle herself under control. Worked through what to do next. It took several moments to comprehend that she couldn’t hear anything anymore—not muted sounds, not even the ringing in her ears. Only pain stabbed into the sides of her skull.

She had to get out. Smoke meant the car might catch fire. She reached for the seatbelt release but paused. Which way was up? Pressure against her left side told her that her door would not be the way out. She’d have to make her way up to the passenger door. Smacking the airbag out of the way with one hand, she unbuckled herself.  Haltingly, she reached down, feeling around the pedals for her phone. It was near her left foot.The screen that should have been smooth was jagged. Shattered. 

Desperate, she held it before her face anyway. When the airbag was gone, between the moonlight streaming in through the cracked windshield and the dash lights, it was obvious she crushed the device when she hit the brakes. 

With a wince, she shook it twice in a chopping motion. The flashlight came on. Thank you goddess! She turned off the light and clenched the phone in her hands. 

For a second, Niobe closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She twisted toward the passenger door. Pain nauseated her. Soreness and stiffness were everywhere, no beginning or end. Her body responded to her commands only reluctantly, as if the messages were getting lost in transit. Tears ran down her face as she grimaced.  She dragged herself across the center console, first one leg, then the other. Sweat broke out all over when she eased her way over to the passenger seat. 

It took a few minutes of heaving and deep breathing to calm her racing heart and recover from the labor. Before continuing, she glanced out the broken window, hoping to see headlights or some other sign of humanity. 

The stars above looked lovely and useless. 

Niobe tried the door. It refused to budge. She clicked the lock several times. No luck. In her best condition, she’d never have the strength to open it. She’d have to fit through the window. The thought brought on more tears. This was going to hurt like a bitch, but the reek of smoke was stronger. She stored the phone in her waistband. 

Feet first—that would be the safest way. Pivoting brought on another vise-like clenching. Left collarbone. After a pause, she tried again, weight shifted to her right arm for support. With a throb, the wrist threatened to buckle. Hips complained. Eventually, she poked her feet through the window. She had to move faster.

Luckily, her body was strong and trim enough despite its protests to wriggle her torso through the opening. Gripping the handhold above the door, she squeezed the rest of the way through. Her jaw was clenched, skin drenched in cold sweat. She lay on the side of the car, which was now the top, to catch her breath.

In the distance, from the corner of her eye, she saw two tiny lights, smaller than fireflies. Niobe scooted toward her rear bumper and flopped onto the ground. She clawed her way up the slope her car had rolled down. After what felt like years, she reached the road, her left arm tucked against her side, right hand waving down the approaching vehicle. 

It took every ounce of will to stay upright, to focus, as the car rolled to a stop about twenty yards from her. The door opened. A figure stepped out—male? The headlights made it near impossible to make out any details, but her hazy brain recognized the silhouette—the security guard from the stadium. Coincidence?

Her extended hand lowered a few inches. She stepped backward. Although she needed help, badly, she didn’t trust him.  

Niobe attempted to speak, unsure how the words were coming out. “Sir! Sir, can you help me, please?” Her face felt wrong as she spoke—that misshapen, half numb sensation after a dentist visit. For all she knew, her thick tongue was creating garbled, monstrous gibberish. “My car flipped—” She started to say she was hurt, but this man didn’t need to know she was extra vulnerable. “Please call 9-1-1!” 

He came closer. It was definitely the guard, moving toward her like someone approaching a feral animal—one hand near his hip, one extended in a stop gesture. She recalled how she had kicked him…how she smacked him in her earlier panic. His body language felt less friendly than before. The hairs at Niobe’s nape stood up.

As he moved past the headlights, a glimpse of his face showed a furrowed brow and a scowl. He started shaking his hand forcefully, jabbing the air with his index finger. He stepped toward her again. 

Niobe retreated a few inches down the embankment. 

He could make her disappear from the planet right now. He might consider her a threat. Tase her. Was he pissed off? He could shoot her. This solitary man on this deserted road could bury her body among the pines. Without a trace. 

Niobe ran. Pain arrested every part of her body. Nausea gagged her. Still, she lurched toward the shadows of the tree line, expecting with every step to be blown off her feet and land in a shallow grave.

She couldn’t risk using her phone light. Thank heaven for the moonlight that pierced the cover of pine needles overhead to give her just enough light not to smack into a tree or trip and break any more bones.  The burning sensation of a bullet never pierced her back. Once she felt sufficiently hidden in the woods, she stopped. 

Bent over, wheezing, Niobe leaned against one trunk and vomited, bracing her ribs and holding her shirt out of the stream. The brand new sneakers she’d bought for the occasion didn’t get off so lucky. When she stood, to the side she saw a pinprick of light bouncing up and down. Flashlight. He was coming after her. 

Mom had always said, “If you’re lost, stay put or you’ll just get yourself more lost.” Even with his flashlight, he might not spot her if she crouched, stayed still. If she ran, she had no way of knowing how much noise she was making. She might lead him right to her.

The guard’s light seemed far off. She attempted to tiptoe to another, broader tree and curled down into a ball. She clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle any possible sounds that might escape. 

Darkness and silence closed in. Bugs crawled along her neck, over her exposed arms. Gnats collided with her face. Yet she didn’t dare move a muscle to swat them away or peek around her cover. Dull throbs of pain into her shoulder let her know how fast her heart raced. 

Had she overreacted? Maybe the guard was trying to help. Maybe it was time to check her own prejudices because staying out here all night was an unrealistic option. She needed a hospital. Running around out here, hiding…if she had internal injuries, she’d end up dead by morning all because she assumed the white guy with the weapon was her enemy. 

Still, everything in her experience and knowledge bank made her stay put.

With no sense of time, Niobe couldn’t take it anymore. There had to be some other solution, but her mind felt fuzzy. It was getting colder. Trying to move only her head, she pressed into the tree as she risked a look over her shoulder. The point of light danced closer— seeking. Hunting. The cushion of leaves under her butt shifted. How much noise had that movement made? Niobe grimaced. Held her breath. Squeezed her eyes shut. 

A while later, she opened one eye then the other. She choked back a scream that bubbled up from her chest. A few yards away, two red eyes glared at her. 

At that moment, a bright lantern illuminated the guard, now wearing big plastic earmuffs. Why would he be wearing those in June? He stood several feet behind some massive canine. Razor teeth were bared in a growl. Saliva dripped in long strands.

Niobe knew dogs, and this was no normal one. Normal animals didn’t have eyes that glowed red, and this thing’s head and shoulders were disproportionately too big for its body–like a canine bodybuilder on steroids. 

Its mouth opened wide—not barking but as if it meant to swallow her whole. Even in the low light, the air around it seemed to ripple. A forked tongue extended as if the beast was screaming. What demonic shit was this? It held that forward posture, and then stopped, baring its teeth again.

Niobe glanced at the guard. His brows lifted in surprise. What had he expected to happen? She eased her hand into her pocket. Keeping her gaze on the creature’s body, she worked  the pepper spray from her pocket and palmed it. She slowly planted one foot on the ground, on one knee now, and paused to see what it would do.

In the periphery, she saw the guard shaking something at the creature. It started to focus attention on him. A flash of blue-like lightning zapped the beast in its rear quarters. The guard retracted the taser wires and pointed at her, mouth sneering as if ordering the beast. The second it shifted its weight, Niobe brought her hand up. 

It charged.  The hellhound, or whatever it was, leapt. 

She blasted it in the face with pepper spray.

The creature reared up and recoiled, shaking its head, swiping at its face with giant paws.

Niobe didn’t wait to see how long it would take to recover. She ran.

The pepper spray was shoved into her back pocket, and the phone pulled out of her waistband. Adrenaline surged through her, and she shook the phone to turn on the light; to hell with trying to hide from the guard. 

Crashing through the woods, she had no idea where she was going but almost sobbed with gratitude when what seemed to be a cabin appeared in the distance. There were lights on. Could someone in there help her?

Niobe stumbled up the front steps. Gasping for breath, she peeked in the window through a gap in the curtains. It appeared to be a one-bedroom setup. Across from the window, an old television with a rabbit-ear antenna displayed the FOX news logo in the lower corner. A recliner close to the window had a beer can in the cup holder on its arm. Despite the signs of life, the place appeared empty. 

She rapped on the door, heart thundering in her chest. She might just have a heart attack before that psycho or that creature could get to her.

Another peek through the window revealed no sign of movement. 

While she didn’t know what might be in there, she knew for sure what was out here. “Fuck it.” She tried the door handle.

It turned. The door swung in. Pepper spray in hand, Niobe crept inside. Gaze sweeping left to right, she took in the tiny space. A cluttered table sat up against the cabin wall to her right. Next to it, a cooktop and sink were littered with dirty dishes and––bingo—cutlery. Niobe grabbed the biggest knife she saw, but her eye landed on something better, and she dropped the knife onto the counter. The weight of a cast iron skillet felt more reassuring. 

Niobe closed the cabin door, keeping her back to the television as she snuck toward the bedroom. Between the two rooms, a bathroom was recessed behind the living room door. The size of a walk-in closet, there was just enough space for a toilet, a basin splattered with some brownish sludge, and an equally filthy shower stall. A tiny window vented the small space. Niobe shut the door and continued ahead.

This room was also a mess—bed unmade, clothes strewn all over. Two things caught her eye. A uniform on the floor, very similar to the one the guard was wearing. And stuck in a dusty mirror atop a low dresser was a printed selfie with the scene of a car accident in the background. The embankment looked like the one where she’d gone off the road. Niobe’s heart thudded.

Now looking a little closer—a shredded and bloody pink dress, leopard print leggings, a clear plastic backpack similar to the one she’d brought to the concert. 

She rushed out of the room and went straight for the front door. Locked it. There was only that one window behind the recliner. It had wooden shutters. She latched them.  

Had there been a window in the bedroom? She rushed back to check. That window was covered by a small curtain. Shit. Niobe shut the living room door behind her. No lock, just a handle. Breath speeding up again, she frantically looked around for something—anything––to secure it. 

Of course the asshole didn’t have a broom. 

She bunkered down as best she could. Skillet in hand, she leaned back against the door and tried to take a deep breath. Her heart started to slow as she took in the image on the television. As much as she hated the network, she’d give anything to hear even muffled bullshit from the blond anchor. 

Now that the adrenaline was leaving her system and she had a minute to think, the silence caved in on her. She gripped the pan so hard pain jolted up through her fingers from her nails scraping the handle. Suddenly she was aware of the sweat beneath her armpits and chills wracking her body. 

All the pains from her accident assaulted her again. Cramps gripped her gut like a vice. This was not a safe place. Still unable to hear that…thing, it would be suicide to wander around in the dark. Those things, she mentally corrected herself. Because that guard wasn’t any more human than the creature. And he would be back, probably sooner than later.

Shivering, she pressed her back to the door and slid to the floor, knees pulled in toward her chest. The irony here was that for all she’d gone through to go to the all-important concert, it had been…just okay. Twenty-five years had changed her immensely, so why hadn’t she considered the toll it would take on her idols?

The once super-fine young men with the hard, rippling bodies now had bellies and jowls, the same as she did. Even their smooth vocals had grown rough. They were still fine—no question, but not worth dying over. Had they ever been?

Think, Niobe. What did you see? The skillet grew heavy and sagged to dangle between her knees. Her head lolled back against the door as exhaustion finally coaxed her eyelids to droop.

A slam against the door knocked her forward. The wall and floor shook as if there had been an explosion. Niobe turned to see the door handle jiggle. She crawled away and got to her feet, gripping her weapon like a bat. 

Shock waves vibrated under her feet. Dust rained down from the ceiling. It had to be the guard trying to get in. Animals didn’t go for door knobs. 

And then the cabin went still. 

Would he try to come in through the window? 

Niobe quickly replayed what she had seen in the woods. The guard didn’t have full control over that canine. It had been about to turn on him until he tased it. Pain and fear were no way to buy loyalty. Without his weapon, he’d be just as vulnerable to the thing as she was. 

Flinging open the door to the back of the cabin, she limped to the bedroom. The curtains fluttered. Glass sparkled on the bed and floorboards. And trying to squeeze his beer gut through the window was the guard.

The red-faced psycho turned his face toward her. His mouth twisted in an enraged snarl. Sweat dripped off his forehead. Saliva-coated lips that seemed to be shouting something. Nothing nice surely. He’d squeezed one arm and the upper part of his torso in, but he was good and stuck. A red stripe ringed his shirt just above his belly.

  How dare this guy be angry? How many women leaving the stadium had he set up? How many versions of her nightmare had played out? 

Holding the skillet in front of her, Niobe took a few steps toward him. “I don’t know what you’re saying, man, but fuck you!” She swung. The pan connecting with the side of his face sent a satisfying ripple up her wrist and arms. 

Blood poured out of his temple, but he didn’t stop. Reaching for her, he glowered out of one dazed eye. Spittle flew from his enraged lips.

Niobe whacked him again. This time, he slumped.

It took several seconds for her to lower her weapon and release a breath. She could wait here until sunrise and then make a run for it. Try to find the main road and get help. The police— 

An instant later, the guard’s body was ripped out of the window. Bits of fabric from his uniform and skin clung to the jagged edges of the glass. Niobe screamed and danced backwards. The skillet fell from her shocked fingers. 

Her feet froze to their spot. She wanted to go look, needed to know what had happened, although she knew

She took a tentative step. Then another. 

That massive head appeared in the window, blood dripping from those blade-like teeth. Another unheard scream stretched her mouth. Niobe could practically feel the rumble of warning in its chest. There was a glint of intelligence in its eyes. So, against her instincts and fear, Niobe met its gaze. Held it steadily. 

Several seconds passed, and the creature’s muzzle relaxed. They appeared to have reached a truce. Its head ducked out of sight. Still, Niobe lowered herself to the floor facing the broken window, weapon in hand, and waited.

Despite all the guard had done to her and others, for the first time this night she was grateful that she couldn’t hear what was happening outside the cabin.

~*~

She shivered awake and found that she’d fallen asleep on the floor. It was bright outside, dappled beams of sunlight streaming through the trees. Every part of Niobe’s body hurt from head to toe, but she clambered onto her feet and crept toward the window.

Blood smeared across the front patio and down the steps. The guard’s tattered uniform remained as well as some bones, but nothing else that she could see. The creature had disappeared. 

Niobe left the shelter of the cabin, with her clean new skillet, and wandered her way back to her car. It had seemed to be so much farther in the silent darkness. From there, she headed back toward the fork. In the daylight she could see that some sort of spiked mat stretched across the lane. Had she heard the tire blow out, she might have reacted faster and kept the car from going over the embankment. 

At the fork, she dragged herself in the direction she hadn’t taken. Soon, she came to a main road and flagged down help. When she took the police back to the scene of the accident, some hunch told her to leave out the part about the cabin and the canine monster that prowled those woods. Let them figure it out.  

~*~

Deep in the Pine Badlands woods, straight back from where Barrens Circle became Fallow Lane, a one-bedroom cabin hid, serenely buried. 

Niobe had visited every couple of weeks for the past six months, slowly cleaning it up and removing all traces of Truman Carey—the guard who had set up and disabled numerous travelers coming from the stadium late at night in some sick offering to the hellhound, as Niobe had come to think of it. Was it the legendary Jersey Devil? She’d never know nor care. 

She’d found the property deed and Carey’s other papers. Eventually, she’d think about trying to get the place transferred to herself, depending on how her “project” went. But for now, the place was paid for and no one seemed to be looking for the former owner. 

The days were short now, so the wait in the rocker on the porch for her visitor to arrive was brief. Her hearing would never be 100% again—no one to blame for that but herself. However, hearing aids allowed her to hear the faint crunch of pads moving along the layer of snow that had frosted over. 

The hound stopped a few yards away from the cabin steps and sat, watching her.

“Hey, buddy.” She kept her voice low and calm. “It’s okay. I’ll stay right here. You go on.”

The hound cocked its head, considered her with those glowing eyes, and then moved forward to scarf down the venison she’d unwrapped and left at the base of the steps. An entire buck butchered just for her new acquaintance. It ate and licked its muzzle, watching her for long seconds. Then it ducked his head as if nodding a thank you and stalked back into the night.

***

Thanks again to our patrons for supporting this podcast. Because of your support, listeners around the world get creepy tales in their ears every other week. If you want new stories every week, the only way for that to happen is to join the NIGHTLIGHT Legion by going to patreon.com/nightlightpod and supporting this podcast. You can also make a one-time donation via PayPal at PayPal.me/NightlightPodcast. If you’re unable to support us financially, word of mouth is the next best way to help. Give us a shoutout online on Twitter or Instagram @nightlightpod, or like us on Facebook @nightlightpod. Reviews are also a huge help, so be sure to leave a few kind words on your podcast platform of choice.

Audio production for this episode by Tonia Ransom and Ron Webb.

And to thank you for listening until the very end, we have a creepy fact for you.

Earlier this year, a Florida woman pretended to be stranded in an attempt to lure in unwitting victims. She flagged down a couple, and asked them to help her get her car started. After she led them to the woods where a friend was waiting, she pulled a gun on the couple, killing the man. Her friend fled, and was later arrested…but only after her 5-year-old son pulled a gun on the cops.

Join us next time for a brand new story…and be sure to leave your nightlight on. You never know what might be hunting you in the dark.


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