Episode 253: End of the Hunt
November 21st, 2023
Kristen Zaza
[Eerie Theme Music.]
[Your Narrator:]
[an exhale]
I'm so tired
I want
I want
Well
That's irrelevant.
It's in the past.
Years of running around the Wild Woods of the World, chasing little humans
My favourite to chase were always the Hunters, the ones with keen eyes and grasping hands and swords at their sides
I wanted to prove my cleverness and dexterity. I wanted to hunt the hunters.
Notice that gods of the hunt are usually depicted with a live deer at their side?
Or a falcon closeby? Or a dog?
They are surrounded by animals and they serve as a Protector.
What are they protecting? Their Self and their animals and their forest.
Gods and Goddesses of the Hunt seem to not be hunting the creatures within the forest, at least that part seems completely unimportant to those telling their myths
What do they protect? Who are they hunting?
There is a Wild Wood surrounding the castle
I have visited it, I have sung it, I have breathed it into your ears
i spent a hundred stories and two years within it
And beyond that there is a city I have navigated in both flesh and soul
Modern and uncompromising and unimpressed by wings and fangs and claws
Full of white-tiled basements
You have to get through the forest to get from the city to the castle, or the castle to the city
What are the gods of the hunt protecting?
[Humming]
There is a girl, no not that anymore, a woman, a person, beyond the trees and in the city
You can hear her even now.
[Layered and distant]
My mind feels a little crowded these days, with thoughts like
Skin is screaming from the cold
The fading trees are so beautiful in gold
The sun is setting far too early
It cannot be almost evening
The sun is golden as it too fades away
I haven't got anything done today
Is the true fright the creeping end of day?
Is the true fright the running out of time?
Is the true fright the race against the darkness?
Because once the darkness comes, there's no guaranteeing anything
We have been planning for winter and winter is almost here
Every year every year
On and on until you, also golden, will find yourself near winter
Approaching closer and closer to the coming night
Here is Heaven: Here is the holiness of it all:
Every time it was night before, day came again
Every time it was winter before, spring came again
Every year every year
On and on
And when your winter comes, when your sun sets,
What do you think will happen?
What will happen?
Who is going to tell her that somewhere through a forest and beyond to a secret castle, she already knows?
What would be the fun in that?
Walk with me, my friend, through those trees she talks about; the ones that are golden now, and the ones that aren't golden are bare; and the ones that are not golden or bare are the green ones that are hard and sharp and prepared to defend that which they protect
Like a hunter god
Walk with me
Down city sidewalks
It's late at night, don't worry, no one cares
No one is worried about that enormous shadow passing by under the street lamps
Shaped like a human but holding nothing other than empty darkness in its form
Come, down the correct sidewalk with the correct trees
There is the building, there is the balcony
Climb up the trees with me my dears
Golden or bare or sharp, climb up up up to the tippy tops so you can see the balcony even more closely
Hold on to the trees, there's one for everybody
There's nothing else to hold on to
The wind blows cold and strong
Hold on to the trees for dear life
A light goes on inside the little apartment
Inside the apartment, music plays softly. I can hear it, can you?
[It's the theme song, distant and soft]
It sounds familiar
Where am I?
I should never have left the castle
I should never have left the forest
I should never have left the cellar
I should never have left the tower
I should never have entered the tower
I should never have seen the tower
I should never
[The music stops abruptly]
There
In the window
silhouetted against the light of one candle
The figure of a woman, stood still as stone, staring at us
Unafraid
Only the glint of candlelight reflecting off the glass of her spectacles visible
As we hold on to the trees we've climbed
I want to look away
That silhouette in the window is so still, her room is so silent, I want to scream
She is walking away, thanks be to the spirits protecting these trees and us
I couldn't look at something I couldn't see looking back at me for too long, it's just too creepy
She's saying something into a microphone, now's the time, this is why we're here:
My mind feels a little crowded these days, with thoughts like
Skin is screaming from the cold
The fading trees are so beautiful in gold
The sun is setting far too early
It cannot be almost evening
The sun is golden as it too fades away
I haven't got anything done today
Is the true fright the creeping end of day?
Is the true fright the running out of time?
Is the true fright the race against the darkness?
Because once the darkness comes, there's no guaranteeing anything
We have been planning for winter and winter is almost here
Every year every year
[Music creeps in; plodding and eerie, a guitar picks an echoing melody over banging vibes]
On and on until you, also golden, will find yourself near winter
Approaching closer and closer to the coming night
Here is Heaven: Here is the holiness of it all:
Every time it was night before, day came again
Every time it was winter before, spring came again
Every year every year
On and on
And when your winter comes, when your sun sets,
What do you think will happen?
There are people in the trees
At least that's what I think they are - or once were - or will be
It's like shadow only not that, a little emptier, a little fuller
It's just presence I think
Souls, maybe
I know they are there, I can feel them
I look at these trees every night as I go to bed
And I know there are souls there looking back at me
I think I shouldn't be here
But I am, and I'm trying to do the best I can
I think
I haven't got anything done today
I am not doing all I can
But I am so distracted by those souls in the trees
Take me to the Wild Woods
I will plead my case to the god of the hunt there
And hope they will mercifully decide I am worth protecting rather than hunting
All I have to do is go there
All I have to do is walk there
And keep on walking
But I stay in here
And I just talk about it instead
What are they looking at?
I can't see them clearly. I am certain they can see me clearly, though
What a frightening thing it is to look at something that you can't see looking back at you.
It's kind of like talking into a microphone and wondering if someone, somewhere in time and space and consciousness, can hear you.
[the voices overlap]
There was a time when I knew the joy of the hunt;
The joy that came from the chase itself; the running through the woods, the outsmarting, the pursuing and the escaping
I have been both the hunter and the prey in delightful chases that didn't need to end with a killing
They seemed very important at the time, but now I see they were all just diversions
There is a man with strong arms and keen eyes and a hungry, cunning gaze walking down the sidewalk
He seems familiar
I want to put him back in the story somehow, flesh and blood you abandoned for earth and water and then shadow and soul
I am not a ghost yet
I do not have unfinished business, for I am still alive
"I am still alive", whisper the trees, as their golden leaves fall even as we speak
As we cling to them and they sway all the more quickly, I know us being up here is weakening them by the second,
Though we are light as shadow.
The man is going in through the front door of the building
He sees us up in the trees and smiles, bringing one finger up to his lips. We mustn't give away the surprise
Here is Heaven: Here is the holiness of it all:
Every time it was night before, day came again
Every time it was winter before, spring came again
Up the stairs he goes. See? You can see him walking one flight at a time through the window
He is sure to pause at the glass each time and smile at us
Should we warn her?
Every year every year
On and on
He's entered through the front door
Someone must have left it unlocked, oh dear
he is moving silently towards her, she is too busy looking at us and the microphone and the computer screen, she doesn't see him approaching from behind
He has a blade, he's a hunter after all
And when your winter comes, when your sun sets,
What do you think will happen?
He opened the door to her bedroom
But as soon as he did, she disappeared.
She's gone.
She's not in there.
He looks at us as though we're to blame.
You can't conquer the goddess of the hunt, silly man.
But where did she go?
He looks around, he gives up quite easily. He's going to check the streets, the roads, maybe the woods
But I think she's outsmarted him once again
She loves the hunt, but she's too good at it.
What do you think will happen?
[Music; guitar, banging vibes, humming, a distant organ]
The voice comes not from where she was in her bedroom, but from the balcony
Where a creature with talons balances on the railing on its haunches, the size of a human woman, wings looming over it like a gargoyle, a black feather floating gently down to the balcony below.
It's hard to see any details in her face; just a little light from the street glinting off her glasses.
[Breathing]
when your winter comes, when your sun sets,
What do you think will happen?
As a great wind passes through this forest, and we sway on the branches of our trees, the gods old and new protecting all living things within their forest, including us,
I can't help but smile and grin
Rows of fangs floating in shadow in the trees
Red tongue pronouncing only the promise:
"Take my hand, and we'll find out."
[Eerie theme music]
(Host speaks as Kristen:)
Hello my friends, thanks so much for joining me for Episode 253 of On a Dark, Cold Night. This is your host, writer, narrator, composer, podcaster, etcetera, Kristen Zaza. I hope you're doing well and having a great November; it's been a couple of weeks since I've spoken with you, and I uhhhh did my best with this one! It's been a strange time for creating stories so I suppose it follows that they're a bit strange. At least that's what I'm telling myself. It is as it is.
So much thanks as always to my wonderful patrons who support my work on patreon.com. I'm so grateful for your support and kindness, my friends. Everyone who pledges $1 a month to On a Dark, Cold Night on Patreon receives access to my complete soundtrack, while supporters of $5 or more a month get that, a weekly bonus "Quick Moment" Meditation episode, and a monthly Tarot Reading video uploaded every full moon. To learn more, check it out at patreon.com/darkcoldnight. If you'd prefer to donate one-time only without any of those perks, you can do so by buying one or more metaphorical coffees in support of the show at ko-fi.com/darkcoldnight. You can buy a t-shirt or hoodie at bonfire.com/on-a-dark-cold-night, and you can also access the Quick Moment meditations by subscribing to the Sonar+ Apple podcast channel by visiting my show page there or searching for the Sonar Network. It costs $3.99 a month and you can get access to lots of great bonus content from Sonar Network shows, and the money goes back to the creators, so it's another great way to help out.
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Thanks so much for listening, everyone.
Just some strange November thoughts, as we watch the death of autumn and the birth of winter
Wishing you warmth and love and freedom as the year closes.
Be well, my friends.
[Eerie theme music]
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