TRANSCRIPT - Episode 161: Eyes in the Mist
September 15th, 2021
Kristen Zaza
[Eerie theme music plays]
Hello, my friends.
Let's move a little quickly tonight, because my world is moving quickly right now.
I still want you to relax, I still want you to feel that you can rest, that you can get the calm that you need, the calm that I hope I'm able to provide, the peace that I pride myself perhaps a little too much in my ability to give. I want that for you.
I have found some of it for myself, somehow, despite the noise and the chaos.
Ahh, was there ever a time that I said I love Chaos?
I still do. I still do. It's just that you cannot control who it will uproot.
This week, I fear I'm the tree that's been toppled.
More accurately, the boat that's been capsized.
Let me begin from the start of it all.
Was it a day ago, a week ago? A month ago, a year?
I don't know.
But that Thing in the Mist, the insurmountable foe, the horror with the glowing eyes that waits for me, that wants to take the spirits who are lost on my lake, the one that wants to take me too. That Thing. It was coming closer. Approaching, lumbering, ever so slowly but quite steadily and certainly.
And my little Lighthouse, strong though it is, I know, cannot withstand its full wrath.
It's so huge.
It's so strong.
It sounds very hungry, too.
I sat on my little roof so that I might see it better, but no - still just glowing eyes in the mist - and I shuffled my Tarot cards nervously, repeating over and over and over to myself, "What must I do, what must I do, what must I do?"
I think I shuffled for longer than I ever have before.
Because I was nervous
Because my thoughts were unclear
Because the fear was growing more and more palpable.
My hands were shaking and I dropped a card.
It was the Queen of Pentacles.
"Yes, yes, I know," I said to her, for I saw her last week, and I know she is what I must be. She is what I often am. I know.
But I need to learn something new
So, perhaps unwisely, I rejected that sign. (though I kept her off to the side as a reminder.)
Then, I kept shuffling, my hands shaking more and more as the ground shook and water splashed with each horrible step the great monster took, immense limbs surely reaching down and down into the bottom of this very deep body of water I find myself still lost in, still surrounded by. So afraid I was, that another card flipped away from my fingers
It was The Devil.
"Yes, yes, I know," I said to this card too, for I realize that it is a warning, and it tells me not to fall into negative behaviour, fearful behaviour, addictive behaviour, unhealthy behaviour. I know. I understand. But it just leapt out at me and I was not confident that this was the message I needed. So I put it off to the side too, and I kept shuffling.
Unwise, Unwise, Unwise, I was. Greedy, too. Too controlling. The more fearful I grow, the more I find my hands Grasping
At cards
Looking for something else.
Grasping.
Finally, I took a breath, staring the thing in the eyes, and though it was still far enough from me, and had stopped approaching, I knew it was looking back at me. It sees me, for sure. I always knew it did. But now it was close enough that I could look right back. Yellow, burning orbs, far too bright. Brighter than my eyes, certainly. So bright I had to look away.
And then, before I was able to find my card - choose it, decide on it, grasp it with too much desperation, I'll admit, for a Tarot Reading, the thing started moving towards me again, and I knew I had to leave.
I had to leave my little lighthouse.
A chance blessing - there was a little boat docking itself, just at that very moment, at my little island. Rowed by no one. Just like the one that took me here.
Now I knew for certain that it was my time to leave.
I gratefully hopped in and it began to take me out into the lake.
Towards the creature.
No, no, no, no, no...
This was not the plan. I do not have a plan. I have to fight or I have to run but I am not ready to do either of those things, I'm not ready...
Still in my hands were my cards. I put the Queen of Pentacles on one side of the boat's bottom, the Devil on the other.
I cut the deck and found the card that my hands decided to settle on, finally.
As if I hoped perhaps a Knight, maybe a King, maybe a Queen, maybe even someone as great as Strength or The Sun might make an appearance and save me. Literally, come down from the heavens in a great, magical gesture, and scoop me up and take me to safety and smite the beast in the mist.
But no.
It was the Chariot, Reversed.
The overturned Chariot.
No, I whispered, the wind taken from me. The Devil laughed at my hubris. The Queen of Pentacles wept at my greed. What does it mean? What must I do?
A great and awful silence fell
As I asked one last question:
What is the overturned Chariot in my story?
And at that moment, I heard a horrible roar from the sky. I felt a mighty rumble in the water.
And I saw those bright yellow eyes looking down on me. Nothing left to do now.
A huge, heavy limb that I could not see clearly raised itself up and then let itself crash down towards me
And the water from the resulting splash towered above me in a dreadfully tall wave.
I knew my little boat would not make it.
But even in my greed and folly and despair, I had the wherewithal to stop and notice that, in that wave, there were many many other little boats flipping over, with wailing ghosts sorrowing at their fate, too, as they were plunged into the black night-time water.
And I, along with them.
The capsized boat.
The overturned Chariot.
We've seen it before.
It means Loss.
Loss of control.
Loss of direction.
Loss of power.
As I floated, down and down and around, the water so dark in the night that I couldn't see anything, I felt I'd been here before
Floating in a dark space
With nothing above me, nothing below me, nothing around me.
Nothing to touch, nothing to hear, nothing to see.
I've been here before, haven't I?
And, though I cannot be certain, I think I survived.
I remember despairing last time I was in a dark and empty prison like this
But you know something?
This time, it felt...
It felt almost like I was...
I don't know.
It wasn't so bad.
It wasn't so bad to relinquish all control. To let go of all Towers (even ones I've built with my own two hands). It's not so bad to admit you've lost. To admit that you are lost. To admit to yourself that this might be your dark hour.
Because, you see... if you can realize all that, then you can also realize you've survived all that.
I know that I have a hunger for Control. For Power. I temper it with a desire to help, a desire to guide, but who am I to guide anyone when I myself am lost at sea?
Perhaps this is the best medicine for me after all.
It tastes terrible, I'll admit.
But what can I do, but take it?
The Queen of Pentacles asked me to trust her and I would not.
The Devil warned me to let go of my addiction to control and I would not.
And so I forced my Chariot to Reverse itself, in a way, didn't I?
And now, here I am.
Sinking, sinking, down, down, down...
I hear something, though.
A rumbling. That same rumbling as before. Of course, that thing is still in the lake with me. That Horrible Thing. The Monster, the Great Beast, the...
[It’s a strange, mechanical-sounding vocalization]
Wait
It's almost like
The grinding of gears?
The roaring of some kind of engine - I'm not terribly familiar with them - but it's something....something I don't often hear in my lake, or in my woods, or in my ears at all...
What is that?
No matter.
It doesn't matter.
Not if I'm defeated.
Am I?
For a moment, I'm made to stop and consider that I have helped others not because I desired to control them, but because I wanted to.
And it occurs to me also that I saw all those ghosts in all those other boats flailing and flying and falling into the lake with me.
I am not alone.
So I do what I always do when I feel alone, but remember suddenly that I am not.
I remember that I am a beacon
Even without my lighthouse
And sometimes I need to be a beacon of hope and help, not to others
But for myself.
What do I always do when I feel alone, but remember suddenly that I am not?
[She sings a song]
Where am I headed, and where am I going to?
Lost, lost, lost, I fear.
Where will I be at peace? So long, I've longed for peace.
Lost, lost, lost, I fear.
What is this terror, that stalks all my waking hours?
Lost, lost, lost, I am.
When will it leave me be? I wish it would leave me be.
Lost, lost, lost, I am.
Go on, Go on,
I hear the chorus cry:
Go on, Go on,
If you can't, how will I?
The song that popped into my head was correct.
There was a chorus singing that song with me.
I heard them in the darkness
Because they had heard me
And I know it's silly, I know it's funny, I know it's strange, I know maybe it's predictable,
But I felt hands
Cold and clutching
At my arms
my legs
my head
my body
And they began to pull me up.
I recognized some from having stopped by my lighthouse, and I gave them directions to my forest.
I recognized others from having stopped by to listen to my stories recently.
Some I just recognized, I don't know from where.
Some I am certain I've never seen before in my long life. (but they pulled me up all the same.)
They pulled me up as I was sinking down
And I wept for joy and gratitude and love and shame, too, for having forgotten them in my moment of selfishness.
They took up my sad song and changed it just a little:
Where are you headed, and where are you going to?
Lost, lost, lost, my dear:
Where you will be at peace, where you have brought us peace.
Lost, lost, lost, my dear.
What is the terror, that stalks all your waking hours?
Lost, lost, lost, it is.
It may not leave you be, but we'll fight it happily.
Lost, lost, lost, it is.
Go on, Go on,
The lost yet hopeful sing!
Go on, Go on,
Don't mind that fearful thing!
I shame to admit that I was afraid, at first, when I felt the hands grabbing at me. I screamed and fought a little, even though I am more frightful than any of them. I am the monster, after all - they are the ghosts of things that were probably once human. I am not afraid of those.
But then I realized that, like me, they weren't trying to control. They were trying to help.
And I needed it.
I needed help.
I still do.
I always will.
So will they.
No Man is an Island, I've heard it said.
But because I am a monster
I thought it didn't apply to me.
I was wrong.
They took me to my Forest, where I washed up on the shore and wept at the sight of a tree, my first sight of a real tree in a long time.
Hello my friend.
I sat and looked out at the lake, where they remained, translucent and aware heads in the water bobbing up and down, up and down, watching me, like beautiful merpeople they seemed, each one of them gorgeous and strange.
They all scattered, though, when the monster in the mist began to approach.
OF course it was not gone.
It lumbered towards me, and I finally got a good look at it.
[The mechanical vocalizations return]
Made of metal and concrete, I was surprised to see that the glowing yellow things I thought were eyes were something else
Lightbulbs
Something I do not want in my forest.
Its limbs were long and thick, each one perhaps the size of a small building
Each one was a small building, in fact
With little rooms and lights within it
And in those little rooms
Imagine it! Ghosts.
People. Inside it.
They did not seem afraid. But they did not seem happy, either.
The thing's body was where the engine was.
It burned up something - coal? Oil? I don't know. I don't care to know. And it produced a foul smell.
It didn't have a face.
It was not a creature at all.
It was one huge machine
A machine being driven by ghosts. Of people. What people? I don't really care.
If they would rather be inside of that then outside, be it in a lake or in a forest or a little island or anywhere, anywhere else, really, then I don't care.
It's not that I wouldn't want to help them. It's that they're content to help it make such a noise and such a smell.
Someone is driving it.
Someone is operating it.
Someone is feeding it.
No wonder it makes such a noise.
It's a thing without direction, without cause, without conviction.
Full of spirits but without a soul
It's not a monster at all.
It's a machine.
Nothing more.
It needs souls to live inside of it and keep it going, keep feeding its engine
And some want to be there
Some are so cold that they choose to be there
Next to the engine, stoking the fire.
I do not blame them.
But I have my own fire here.
The machine stares me down.
Its limbs crouch and with a great clatter, the body with the engine and the fiery eyes that guide its terrible journey come closer to me.
A little telescopic thing comes out from where I assume someone is steering it
Someone, many someones, who knows
And a huge lens the size of my skull looks at me.
It turns and twists, it looks me up and down, it grows closer to me, then farther, sizing me up.
I hear something, someone, deep within this metal thing that is nothing near as noble as a beast,
Laugh
At Me.
And I know what they are thinking.
I am so small.
The telescope retreats.
The enormous machine stands tall again.
It turns from me
and walks away into the mist again.
Not before stopping by my lighthouse
And smashing it down
With one mighty, metal kick of its sturdy, high-rise of a limb.
Quiet returns.
For a time.
It will not always be quiet here.
Not for me.
And probably not for you
(Though I wish I could change that, please believe me.)
I will not be defeated by a machine.
I will not be disheartened by metal.
I will not be brought down by something that does not have a soul.
And so I am joyful
And so I am full of song
And so I am full of peace
Again.
We are back in the forest.
I will be here even still, even when the metal machine in the mist roars and rumbles and threatens and grumbles,
And you can come find me.
I am hopeful that, if we cannot defeat it, we can at least resist it.
Goodnight, my friends.
Thank you for saving me
And bringing me back here.
Sweet Dreams.
[Eerie theme music]
(Host speaks as Kristen:)
Hello everyone, and thank you so much for listening to Episode 161 of On a Dark, Cold Night. This is your host, podcaster, composer, performer, writer, blah blah blah, Kristen Zaza. I hope you're doing all right, my friends. I'm also doing all right. Better now. Better now for identifying the thing in the mist and seeing it for what it is. Better now for having swam a little with you.
I would like to thank all my patrons who support what I do through Patreon. I'm grateful for your support, and I'm grateful for your friendship. Thanks for continuing on with me on this strange journey of mine. If you're interested in supporting the show in this way, every patron who donates a minimum of $1 USD a month receives access to my constantly-updated soundtrack of the show, while every patron of $5 USD a month or more receives the soundtrack perk as well as access to a monthly Tarot-Reading video I make every full moon. There are two of those videos up so far, and more to come. If this sounds interesting to you, head on over to patreon.com/darkcoldnight to learn more. If you'd prefer to donate one-time only without either of those perks, you can do so through Ko-fi.com by purchasing one or more metaphorical coffees in support of the show - learn more at ko-fi.com/darkcoldnight. And if you want to see the t-shirts and hoodies I have available for purchase, check those out at bonfire.com/on-a-dark-cold-night.
A great way to support the show without paying anything at all is to leave a rating and a review on iTunes, or wherever else you like to rate and review podcasts - I'd really appreciate that. You can also follow me on social media; I'm on Twitter @ADarkColdNight, instagram at darkcoldnightpodcast, or on my Facebook or YouTube pages, just called On a Dark, Cold Night.
Forgive my self-indulgence this week, my friends. The machine was a little bit overwhelming. But I'm doing just fine. I hope you are too. I wish you all the best, my friends, and I hope you have some good rest. I will too, this week. And I can't wait to talk to you again soon.
Goodnight, my friends. Thank you again.
[Eerie theme music]
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