TRANSCRIPT - Episode 25: Lost Labyrinth
June 27th, 2018

[Eerie theme music plays]

YOUR NARRATOR:

Good evening my loves.
How have you been?
Have you been going to work? Seeing friends? Kissing loved ones?
Watching television?
Eating? Drinking? Smoking? Dancing? Singing?
What have you been doing?

Sure, I have seen you doing it. Sometimes. If and when I venture outside. But I want to hear you talk about it.
I know I can't. I know that this is a one-way street. But I can dream.

Thank you for listening again. And for staying with me. As always. My constant friends.

What have I been doing?
I've been watching.
Keenly and intently.

I love the way time passes for you. Especially when you're so totally focused on getting from one place to another, doing the things you've been told you must do. Go to work. Go home. Go to work. Go home. Maybe you choose to go somewhere else between those two. But that's mostly it, isn't it? And getting from place to place is both great and banal. It's a private time to yourself. You're neither home nor at work - whatever "work" is. You're simply out and existing between privacy and public presentation. And you hate it. You hate being surrounded by other people going from place-to-place. It's fascinating, really.

Do you want to escape from that? What if you didn't know where you were going? Couldn't control where you were going? Had no sense of direction or place, only existing and giving in to the sense of losing yourself to this big and overwhelming world?
Wouldn't it be nice?

I think it would feel nice.
Well. Perhaps I already am lost. You don't know me. Not really. You don't know who I am. Where I am. What I am. So, what am I doing? What am I really doing here? Sometimes I really do feel I'm lost in this world. And I'm not sure if I hate it. I'm not sure if I dislike it. Perhaps I like being nowhere. Perhaps you shouldn't find me, after all.
Maybe I could lose myself. Go somewhere wild and huge and just...be there. Never leave. Stay there, among the birds and beasts and insects and monsters and moonlight and breeze and silence.

I could.
It's a thought.

Being lost with a goal. Not knowing just how lost you are. That's much, much worse.
Like the hero in the story I have for you today.

[A little of an eerie, simple, ancient-sounding melody on piano is heard]

He had heard tell of a princess. A sad and unfortunate princess from a nearby kingdom who had been kidnapped by a vicious beast, years ago. They didn't know much about the creature, for it was so ancient and so mysterious and moved so swiftly that it was rarely seen, and most thought it was a myth. Until, of course, the princess was taken. All that was known was that it had stolen away with her into the night, taken her from her very bedroom in the palace, and whisked her far from her mother and father, the queen and king, and taken her to the ancient ruins of an old labyrinth. Impenetrable, impossible to solve, and a death sentence for any wanderers. Many fine princes, who sought the princess's hand in marriage and half of the crown, had went to find her and rescue her. None had succeeded.

This one hero, however, he knew that his destiny was to save this princess. He would solve the labyrinth, find his way to the monster, slay the monster, rescue the princess, return her to her kingdom, marry her, and one day become king. He was meant for this. What else was his training for? Why else did he practice his swordsmanship? Why else did he spend years training to keep up his strength, endurance, speed and agility? Why all this, if not to save helpless princesses? To slay vicious monsters? If not to prove himself worthy, and one day rule a kingdom, and be known and beloved by all?

And so he made his way to the kingdom. He burst open the doors of the palace. He marched through the halls, past the guards and attendants, directly over to the still-grieving queen and king. He laid down his shield and sword and he knelt, and he declared in a loud, clear voice for everyone in the hall to hear: "I have come to return your daughter to you, my King and Queen."

The Queen sobbed loudly at this. The King had a look of anger on his face. "We have seen enough warriors, soldiers, and princes come and go. We have no desire to see more men give us false hope and fail, just like the rest."

"I am not like the rest," the Hero declared. "I will not return back to you without her. I swear."

"You are a fool," the king sighed. "For no man has ever returned at all."

The Hero was not deterred. He begged the king's blessing that, if he was successful, he might have the princess's hand in marriage. With a dismissive wave of his hand, the king agreed, though he did so a little too easily, so adamant that the hero would not be successful.

And the Hero set off on his journey.

After three days and three nights' travel, he arrived. The labyrinth was huge, and carved of stone. The walls were so high - higher than four men standing on each other's shoulders - and they were carved of smooth grey stone. There would be no climbing them. The entrance to the labyrinth was simply a gap in these walls. The path to the labyrinth had been dirt and stone, but as soon as he stepped foot through the entryway, there was soft green grass under his feet, unnaturally growing among these stone walls. And, also remarkably - the walls were not made of individual stone, he could see no cracks in them whatsoever. It was as if it had been hewn from one giant rock by a preternaturally skillful hand. This was not natural, nor was it man-made. With a deep breath and a puffing up of his chest, he held up his shield and went forward.

Do I need to tell you how his journey went? Or can you surmise it? He thought it would be easy. Well, not easy. But attainable. He had, as I said, trained for this. He was cunning. He was strong. He was swift. But the sun in the sky moved over him, he could barely see it as he moved among the labyrinth's great walls, and hours and hours passed. He began to grow frustrated. He tried marking the walls with signs to himself to help guide his way, but he never stumbled on them again. The place seemed to be so massive, that he could be among a completely new set of twists and turns and still be absolutely no closer to his goal. He was lost. This was the goal of the place, wasn't it? It was succeeding.

[An intense, suspenseful piano piece plays]

Twelve hours had passed, and the sun began to set. As the sun set, a great darkness began to fall on the labyrinth, and he moved more swiftly. He had to find her. He had to solve this puzzle. He had to fight the monster. He ran and ran, turning and turning, until he realized that he couldn't see an inch in front of his face, for the darkness enveloping him.

He was alone. He was alone in this empty stone maze, with only soft grass under his feet as a slight comfort.
And he stood there. And for the first time in a long, long time...
He didn't know what to do.
He didn't know how to be a hero.
Not to stone, and grass, and darkness.

And, from behind him, he heard in a hissing whisper:

[in an echoing, unnatural whisper:]
"Turn back and leave this place."

He whirled around with his sword at the ready. He couldn't see anything. There could have been no one there, or the monster could have been standing right in front of him, and he wouldn't have known. "Show yourself," he called out. "Face me."

[A strange, terrifying laugh/clicking/growling noise]

It was moving. At first on the other side of him, and then he didn't know where.

[The echoing whisper again]
"You cannot defeat me. You will not find her. You will not succeed. You will not be King."

And the Hero ground his teeth together in both fear and rage. He swung his sword, but there was no contact with anything.
He felt something touch his shoulder behind him.

[The laugh again, followed by the whisper]
"Turn back. While I allow it."

And he turned to face the voice; but suddenly he could see a little. For, in the stone, there was now a gap in the wall. And through the gap, he saw a torchlight marking the same road he had taken to reach the labyrinth. He could go home. He could forget about this other kingdom, forget about saving the princess and slaying the monster. He had been lost for one day. He could go home.

But he turned away from it. And he kept walking in the darkness.

Hours and hours passed. Eventually, the sun rose, but it was so far from the walls of this labyrinth and the sky seemed so grey that he could only see a little in front of him now. But he kept going. He would win. He would be the hero, and he would win.

And night came again.

And again, he turned a corner, and there was a gap in the wall. Impossibly. Impossible that there could be, and that it could show what he saw next: Again, the road, lit by torchlight. It was a little farther away now, but there was a clear exit to it. Somehow.

It must be a trick.

"It is no trick, hero." That voice again. "Turn back." 

How tempting. It had been two days now, with no rest, no human contact. No food. And very, very little light. He could turn back. Forget about the King and Queen and the people. Just go home and be happy. 

But he didn't. He kept walking. Stumbling, in the dark. One hand against the wall, the other on his sword.

Another gloomy sunrise adding only a little more light. The Hero was hungry. He was delirious. He was tired. He moved slowly, his feet begging for reprieve. 

Night fell again. Complete blackness, again. The third night. 
And in the darkness, he felt that touch again on his shoulder. 

[the sinister laugh again, and the voice:]

"Still here. So weak. What is it that you truly want?"

He flailed at the voice with his sword, with his shield, with his arms, but no one was there. He was already mad with desperation by this point, but this was even more maddening. 

Until finally, he let out a long, pained roar, and cried out with the last drop of strength he had in his body: "Show Yourself!"

And suddenly, in a snap, two torches burst into flame in front of him, one on each wall on either side of him. Illuminating a path. 

It was a straight path. There were no more twists and turns to this labyrinth. This was now a long hallway. 

Two more torches past the first ones erupted into flame.

And two more after that. 

And two more after that. 

On, and on, and on, leading to where, he couldn't see. 

But he began to walk.

He walked for some time. He didn't know for how long. 

And the grass under his feet had steadily begun to grow taller, more green, more alive. And there were flowers; glorious golden flowers; and the flowers and grass, the more he walked, began to climb their way up the walls, turning the cold, smooth stone into what felt like, suddenly, a jungle. And the hallway widened into a chamber. And in the chamber, on a simple stone seat, sat a girl.

She wore a nightgown and a crown. And she sat up straight, her hands folded in her lap one on top of the other. And she had her eyes on the hero.

His feet were bloody from walking for three days and nights. His arms were weak from holding his sword and shield. His eyes were red and wild from lack of sleep. And he saw her, and he could barely believe it. He hobbled over to her, dropping his shield and sword, and falling to a knee with a groan, with how stiff his legs had become from his journey. 

"Princess", he began, "I have come to save you. With your father and mother's blessing, I have traveled far, I have made my way through this labyrinth, and I will save you from the monster that has done this to you."

She watched him as he knelt, his eyes lifting from the ground to her, his breath coming in short, frantic bursts. And she raised an eyebrow and repeated, "The Monster?" And she thought for a moment, her eyes growing distant and a little sad. "Ah. I see."

And, wincing, he forced himself to his feet again, and forced himself to pick up his sword and shield, and he extended a shaking hand to her. "Come, Princess. We must leave." 

She did not move. 

"Please, my love. We must return to your home."

She thought for a long moment, and then sighed. "No." 

The hero stood in shock. He examined her face for answers, but found none. "What?" 

Her eyes didn't flinch. "I said, No. Thank you for traveling all this way. But it was, I assure you, unnecessary." 

The hero looked around. "Is he making you stay?" He whispered to her, and drew his sword. 

Then, from the small young woman on the stone seat, came a strange sound. 

[The low, unnatural clicking sound is heard.]

And a gap opened up in the ivied wall behind her, showing him - impossibly, again - the way to the path for him to go home. And she said:

[In the whisper from before:]

"Go home, hero. Turn back." 

And his mouth opened wide and - for the first time perhaps since he was a small child - tears welled up in his eyes. "What?" He whispered, in disbelief. This couldn't be happening. This was not what was meant to happen. This was not the plan. 

Stick to the plan. Be the Hero.

He reached over and grabbed her wrist. He was going to take her home. He was going to be king. He was going to stick to the plan. 

Her eyes flashed at his hand, then at him. And then, suddenly, she stood and lifted a hand to his throat - and it was scaled and decorated with talons that clawed into his skin. And when he looked in her eyes, he saw that they were red now. And she lifted him off the ground and drew his face close to hers, as if he weighed nothing. 

"None of the others were quite so foolish. All of the others would have chosen the path home by now." And she smiled, and two long serpentine fangs hung over her lip from her canines. "Perhaps you can stay....'my love'." 

[Again, the ancient, melancholy piano piece plays]

He wouldn't be able to remember the next sight he saw, but I can tell you. From behind her head, it seemed her long hair began to coil and writhe and rattle and hiss. Countless eyes, including hers, and many that were smaller but just as hungry as hers looked at him. And as she set him back on the ground, he felt a great heaviness in his limbs. And it spread across his body. It was, if he had had the wherewithal to admit it, a great relief. 

And the hero stood guard for the princess, his eyes of stone never moving from her, his marble arms still clutching his sword and shield. 

I dare not tell you how I collected this story, dear friends. In fact, I cannot tell you whether or not I am certain that it is true. But I can tell you that I saw The Hero of Stone with my own eyes. It was breathtaking. 

Don't be afraid. All is well. I believe.

Sweet dreams. 

[Eerie theme music]

(Host speaks out of character, as Kristen:)

Hey there guys, how are you doing? This is Kristen Zaza, your writer/performer/producer/everything I suppose, saying a big thank-you for listening to episode 25 of On a Dark, Cold Night. Fun fact: I love classical mythology. I love messing with classical mythology. So, I hope you enjoyed this episode - I had a lot of fun preparing this one.

Nothing new and exciting to report; My usual stuff. If you want to support the show without spending a cent, listen to it on RadioPublic! It's a fantastic app where every listen On a Dark, Cold Night gets actually means me as the podcaster getting paid a little bit. So,, have  a listen there - it's awesome! If you want to help out in a different way and get an on-air thank-you from the bottom of my creepy little heart, you can support the show on Ko-fi at ko-fi.com/darkcoldnight, or on Patreon and patreon.com/darkcoldnight

Also, you can support by a) Following me on Twitter @ADarkColdNight, instagram @darkcoldnightpodcast, or on my facebook page;  b) spreading the word about the show through social media, and c) leaving us a review on iTunes, Stitcher, Podknife.com, or anywhere else you can let people who may be interested in the podcast know your thoughts on it. Also, send over any questions, thoughts, statements, whatever you like!I You may just hear your thoughts being read out here on next week's show.

Anyhow, thank you so much everyone. Things have been a bit busy over here but I'm so grateful to  have this opportunity and vehicle to reach out to you. I hope you enjoyed the story tonight. Have a great night, and until next week. 


[Eerie theme music]