Episode 264: A Gathering
March 5th, 2024
Kristen Zaza
[Eerie Theme Music.]
[Your Narrator:]
The castle has changed quite a bit
It used to be a strong thing, a stone thing, defending me and anyone within it. I wonder if yours is the same. Or was the same. I wonder.
But now, more and more, I find it to be wide open
I find patches of wall are missing and the breeze from outside blows in cold and strange; not air I remember feeling or tasting before
No wonder; beyond the walls, where there used to be trees and grass and earth in the distance there is only space now. Stars. Infinite blackness.
The walls that remain are different, too; they are white tile, ancient and stained with rust as they are; not all of them, of course. Some are still wood or brick or damasque, but there’s no rhyme or reason as to where or how the patterns change. And I’m certain they’re not consistent. And between them, constantly growing, snaking around, are vines; ivy climbing up the walls, green strings of flowering plants draping down from the ceiling.
The garden has taken over the house; the forest has crept across the castle; statues from the gallery line the hallways; notes, photographs, paintings, letters from collectibles long, long ago are scattered throughout
And holes in the walls peering out into outer space, always there, here and there
I am pale, no I am green, no I am invisible
All at once
Every now and then a microphone appears, plugged into an old dusty laptop
And I see the world through spectacles
Then they disappear, too
We’re nearing the finish line
Quick, think of something brilliant
The truth is I am of a rather singular mindset at the moment
I’m trying to understand what’s behind everything I see
I’m trying to describe it to you
I’m trying to describe it to me
I have been reading quite a bit
We have a library here, I’ve told you about it, the Librarian loves us but her teeth are always bloody
I read and I read and I search and I search, I feel my mind looking for the answer to this feeling of falling
I read other accounts of people falling and falling and falling and finding no answers but only more questions
We can ask all the why and how questions we want but they won’t do any good
The only answer is in silence and it is an answer that doesn’t do well with words
I can’t help but feel that I am close to it
But I don’t know what will become of me if I reach it
I find a hole in the castle wall, one of the many ones that have appeared here over the last few…well I want to say weeks, but it doesn’t work like that
The red carpet mingled with mud and grass and tile too, leads towards it,
I walk to it, I kick aside papers and wires and vines, gently of course
And I look out to a black and purple galaxy beyond
Like the void at the heart of my Beloved
Like the eyes of the NotMother
Like the space that is left when I am Not Here
I turn and gaze inward towards the castle and I think about falling backward into space, letting the silence and calm and peace and perfection surround me, Knowing nothing but the glorious feeling of falling, of surrendering, and then I realize I’ve spent so much time telling you about me falling, I don’t know how much more I can get away with doing that
[A little, quiet voice:]
“Stay.”
Who was that?
Is there someone here with me?
“Stay.”
Just a little voice. A quiet one.
[A long pause]
I think it came from the dining hall.
Let’s go see.
Run run run, you can’t escape
The castle as we pass tiles, vines, damasque, windows into outer space alike
Can’t escape all of it
Run with me down these halls but mind the holes in the floor that drop into that cosmic oblivion, too
There is a time and a place for that silent and still meditative emptiness, but as long as I hear even one voice calling to me it’s not right now. but having little glimpses of it here and there is a welcome reminder.
I have a feeling it’s not really there, anyway. I have a feeling all of this isn’t really there, anyway. It’s more like…in here. Inside. Not There, but Here. You know what I mean? Anyway, it’s okay, keep running.
The doors to the dining room are heavy. Made of stone. I always need help opening them. Please help me again
I hear voices within
But my body fluctuates in and out of this realm
Holes in the floors and walls keep opening up and I hop deftly to avoid them
I need to get that door open; I hear voices within
I think they need my help
Maybe
If only I could get my arms to work - they keep changing. Living flesh, decaying flesh, green growing flesh, empty space, claws or bloody fingers or nothin gness, push the door with me, would you?
[Party music; delicate and light and polite]
Oh
I wasn’t expecting this
But, then again,
I wasn’t expecting anything
It’s a party
I shouldn’t be surprised
That’s always what’s going on in the dining room, here.
There is a big bright warm fire blazing in the fireplace, its stone lions standing guard dutifully, gargoyles keeping watch above
My three strange friends who seem to always hang out here, I’m not entirely sure why, they are here of course, all seated on the same side of their long table.
But they are different, different from when I last saw them. When I last saw them, they were all quite defeated; They each have six wings, and last time we met, those wings were scabbed, scarred, bloodied, bruised, plucked, stained, bleached, complete messes, really
But now
They are rather glorious
The one in the center in his red robes, his strong jaw, his six huge red wings spread triumphantly. His hands are relaxed, no longer seeking their missing flaming swords I long ago banned from this peaceful place. His face is red but no longer with repressed anger; I think it’s just the glow of the firelight
To his right, the one who was so nervous before, so frightened, she is so beautiful. Her face has an expression of such love, she is glowing from the inside with the most rich emerald green of a healthy growing pothos plant, and I realize that light is coming from the center of her chest, it’s so bright it fills her up completely. Her fingers no longer seek the missing harp she somehow lost in a long ago battle - but she needs it no more, she is humming a tune and it is filling the air, appreciating the music at this party
And left of centre is the one with six blue wings, they have been cleaned and now they are perfect, a pure and perfect blue, calm and honest. He does not have his staff of course, he broke it in two on accident at some point, but he doesn’t need it - in his presence I feel healed, I feel clear, I feel open, I feel honest too. We don’t even need to speak to communicate any more, he and I.
Call them what you want. Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, or Mars, Venus, Mercury, or Aries, Aphrodite, Hermes, or Gut, Heart, Head, or Courage, Love, Wisdom sometimes - at other times Anger, Desperation, Anxiety, but here and to me they are simply the three who keep finding their way back to me
I’m trying to stop labelling or judging them, I don’t find that helpful
They usually have a message of some kind that’s worth hearing, even if it’s difficult to do so
Unchanging is the brilliance of their golden eyes
New is the look of joy at seeing me, their beautiful smiles. What I wouldn’t have given years ago to see them smile at me.
“Did you call me?” I ask them.
They shake their head, no.
They are blessedly silent, for a change.
The one in the center raises his strong arm and reaches towards the dancefloor, gesturing towards the revelers there
And I am surprised to see them
At first I think they are all my beloved characters, my collectibles from over the last six years of storytelling; witches, vampires, ghosts, monsters, gods, shapeshifters, all manner of beautiful and glorious thing my imagination brought into existence out of loneliness, which is at the heart I think of my creation - wanting to play with gorgeous creatures exploring their humanity, perhaps at the end of the day it was me exploring mine but I think that that’s what all creation is, artistic or natural or cosmological or spiritual maybe
I think I see some of my favourites; the smiling Snow God with his huge body and mocking smile; Chaos with her dress made of chains and her lovely dark hair; the infernal bellhop in his dashing uniform; there are many of them here, so many, and I wonder if perhaps all my dreams have come true and I am able to stay here in this ballroom and dance with them until the end of time, wouldn’t that be just so lovely, to get lost in my own fantasy? Wouldn’t you love to join me here with them? Pick any character you like, and dance with them! Musicians from stories past, too - the violinist with her goat legs, the music teacher playing piano, the gleefully vengeful harpist…dance, dance, dance, they seem to say. Take a drink. Forget about everything else, just for a little, and dance with us.
Wasn’t there a myth once? One I don’t know too well…a story of a man who had to get home to his family, who was trying so desperately to return home from war and come back to a life of peace, but the gods kept getting in his way, distracting him with siren’s singing, or lotus eating revelers…
But where am I trying to go? Where is home?
I go to walk among the celebrants, and I start to notice something very strange
These are disguises
They are wearing masks
The Snow-God, it’s just a mask, he doesn’t have those lovely eyes I saw so clearly in my mind - behind those eyes are just empty black space, and not even the beautiful kind
Chaos isn’t really wearing her gown of chains, I think they’re made of plastic and styrofoam, and behind those chains I see only something white and hard, and then empty space there too
The Bell-Hop’s ill-fitted hat wobbles on his head awkardly, and his smile is fixed and unmoving
The musicians aren’t really playing instruments
The fiddle, the piano, the harp, all made of
Bones
And rubber bands.
“Stop,” I whisper.
And they do.
They all freeze at once.
“Please, just show me. I know this is not the truth. I am tired of pretending.”
All at once, they raise their right arm to their face
I think there are perhaps dozens of them, maybe a hundred, I don’t know,
And I see their hands are all gloved
They reach up and slowly remove their masks to reveal skulls
Gleaming and pure
And with the masks, off tumbles all of their costume, each and every one of them, as though the whole thing were connected by strings, like an elaborately designed piece made to be ready for a costume change at any moment
Their costumes fall to the ground
And I am surrounded by a horde of naked skeletons
[Sigh]
Yes. This is far more beautiful.
At that they throw their heads up toward the ceiling in unison and chatter their teeth in excitement and joy - I think it’s laughter, laughter they can’t really make because they don’t have voiceboxes but you don’t need a voice to laugh
And then they dance with much more abandon and passion, now that they don’t have to hide.
[The music is much more strange now]
The music is much more strange now, too - but it makes more sense. It suits their dancing.
One of them tries to dance with me, but my heart feels heavy, my mind feels confused. “Why did you call me here?” I ask them.
They freeze for a moment and shrug.
“It wasn’t you?” I prod.
[The small voice is back]
“Stay.”
It’s coming from the window
Or is it a mirror
I’m not sure, but I’ve never seen it before.
A large thing with a big frame
There is no glass within
I can reach my arm through
But it does not peer out into space, to stars and blackness, to the cosmos, to the void
[The music fades, slows down, warps]
It peers out into the world
Into a world, anyway
My world
Where I see
Pain
Fire
Hunger
War
Strife
Sorrow
Grief
Apathy
Cruelty
Despair
I feel myself - almost on instinct, not even from my free will, turn away
It’s very difficult to look at. My body tries to go back to the skeleton party, to the beautiful angels, to the castle
But I hear a little voice call from the window again:
“Stay”
And I look again
And though none of those things that are so hard to observe have gone, there is also
Love
Compassion
Empathy
Courage
Hard to see
But it is there
And the more of it I see
The more of it I breed within me
Can’t look away.
Can’t leave for the cosmos.
Can’t stay in the party.
I step forward, thinking I’ll launch myself out of the window and into that world, then
To try and help
To try and be brave, loving, compassionate, too, as much as I can
I set one foot in that world, my world
My lovely world, my aching world
I hold on to the window frame to steady myself as I climb out of the castle towards it
But something catches my hand
Another hand
Strong and cold and soft
I feel cold lips kiss my hand
My hand is flesh now, it is not changing back and forth, it is my human hand, that can feel pain and cold and softness alike
And I hear a voice, whisper:
[A low voice, the Voice of my Beloved:]
“Stay.”
I turn and see my beloved clasping my wrist and kissing it
He with his six black wings
His swirling black eyes,
His dishevelled black hair
Glorious like Night
Soft like Sleep
Strong like Silence
He holds me
And his expression cuts me deeply with its longing.
“Stay,” he pleads with me and kisses my wrist again
I grab his hands in mine and pull him towards me into an embrace, my back to the crying world outside. I kiss his cheek, and whisper in his ear: “Come with me.”
And wrapping him in my arms, we fall down, we surrender to the fall, we feel gravity take us, as it must, for now at least -
Back to Earth.
[Eerie theme music]
(Host speaks as Kristen:)
Hello, my friends, and thank you so much for listening to Episode 264 of On a Dark, Cold Night. This is Kristen Zaza, your writer, host, narrator, podcaster, composer, performer, etcetera, behind On a Dark, Cold Night. I hope you’re doing well, I hope you’re taking care of your hearts, and I hope you’re taking care of each other’s hearts. There are a lot of them. And none more human than any other. The more we can stay together in that, I think, the closer we can get to all of us being free. That’s the goal, isn’t it? Doesn’t it have to be?
Sending my warm thanks to everyone who supports the show on a monthly basis by contributing on Patreon - thank you so much for this, my friends, I’m so grateful. Every supporter on my patreon page of $1 or more a month US gets access to my complete downloadable soundtrack of over 250 or so tracks - every supporter of $5 or more a month US gets that, a bonus weekly “Quick Moment” Meditation, and a monthly Tarot Reading video uploaded every full moon. To learn more, visit patreon.com/darkcoldnight. You can support one-time only by donating at ko-fi.com/darkcoldnight, or by buying a t-shirt or hoodie at bonfire.com/on-a-dark-cold-night.
Also, you can check out my new Album - Favourite Little Songs from On a Dark, Cold Night, Volume 2. It’s available on Spotify, and likely soon on other music streamers - it’s another handful of some of my favourite tracks from the show that I’m very proud of, so feel free to check that out by searching for Kristen Zaza.
I’d love if you left me a rating or review on iTunes, Facebook, Spotify, or wherever else you like to rate and review podcasts. And you can follow me on social media; I’m on instagram at darkcoldnightpodcast,Facebook and YouTube on pages On a Dark, Cold Night, Bluesky and Tiktok at kristenzaza, or on Twitter @ADarkColdNight.
Thank you so much for joining me at this gathering tonight.
Stay well
Stay caring
Stay human.
Stay.
Sweet Dreams.
[Eerie theme music]
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