YOUR NARRATOR:

Where are we going tonight?

I've been moving friends. Again. I know this is a constant in our relatively short time knowing each other - that I am consistently running to or from something - but bear with me. 

I've seen My Ghost. My Hunter. My guiding spirit. He whom I trusted and loved so long ago. I've seen him. Again. In fact, every night since we last spoke. He hasn't been angry with me or hostile since appearing to me last week; since, now that I know for certain who it is I'm dealing with, I've been listening. Carefully. Obeying. Following. 

Again. 

I suppose it's easy to follow directions when you're directionless, isn't it? 

I don't want you to think less of me. I don't want you to hear me and think that I've latched on to another strong spirit to pull me through this time of loneliness and pain. 

But I have. 

And you can think whatever you want of me. 

I followed him every night this week. He points the way. Whether it's opening my computer to seeing a webpage open with a location, or whether - as I try to close my eyes in a futile effort to go to sleep, which I haven't done in...god, it must be weeks now - he whispers abruptly in my ear that we have to go, and to where...

You know something? I wasn't sure at first. 

But the first night I followed him...I found myself miles and miles away from that terrible, chaotic mess of a city. I found myself on the shore of a lake, at midnight, in a place where there were no people for miles. Like I found myself all those hundreds of years ago, the first night I became this hollow, cruel, and wonderful thing I am now. I found myself looking at the horizon, and the moon floating above it peacefully, and inhaling the brisk, clean air sweeping across those miles and miles of frigid water.  And it felt so ageless. So timeless, this scene. The serenity of the sound of water gently sweeping its way across rocks, and heading back to its source just as softly as it came. I felt this before. And it had been so, so long ago since I let myself feel this peace. 

I remember feeling that when I was a... 

I felt that when I was alive. 

I remember it. 

And somehow, I didn't realize how much it meant more back then. Back when I had a pulse. Back when life was an hourglass, and time was in short supply, and stopping to admire something like this was a deep indulgence. 

And so, I've been trusting my ghost and following him. To places and sights that I haven't visited in centuries. 

I don't know where we're headed now. 

Once upon a time, there was a girl. I hope you don't mind my stopping and talking about her for a moment. It's a short story, but I feel like I should tell you about her. She walked through her world, as if under a spell. She did all that was expected of her, and she tried very hard to eke out a respectable living in this harsh place. Despite the fact that she found herself to be...listless, at times. Perhaps that isn't the best word. But, when the world was difficult and harsh and filled with cruelty and strife and conflict, she would find herself retreating into fiction. Fascinated by monsters, by ghosts, by anything ghoulish and ghastly. Perhaps because they were honest, faithful creatures who lived in a world of full moons and dewy, starlight forests and dusty abandoned castles. And she liked it there. 

The thing that she didn't realize was that she was inadvertently stumbling upon a powerful secret. A secret about the world we live in, the world we think we live in, and worlds within those worlds, around them, above and below them. Sometimes those worlds are there, have always been there, waiting, just waiting patiently by for an opportune moment. And then, they find their way into what we think is our reality. 

I've seen glimpses of them. I've told you about them. And if you can stop and have a peek...you must. But you may not be able to unsee it. 

The question then becomes...is it freeing? Knowing this? Seeing beyond your visible world, and seeing into other ones? Does this give you a sense of freedom as you move through the world that you have to move through? Or does this trap you just as much? If not more? Does it make you able to see the bars of your cell? Does it give you a window into a beautiful, free, fascinating world to which you may never be able to escape? 

I suppose it's ironic, to pose the question that perhaps obsession with escape can be restrictive. 

[A simple, high-pitched, eerie piano melody plays under the following]

Anyway. The girl. What happened with her?

You may not believe it, in fact she didn't really, for quite a long time. But she began to glimpse, as I said, another world. 

She begin to see dark, powerful, ageless, inhuman creatures. (Namely, one. A beautiful and terrifying and elegant thing, that followed her at sunset on her walks home from work. And began to make appearances in her solitary apartment. And in her dreams and her nightmares.) 

She invited me in, you see. She had been slowly finding a key, unlocking a door, and opening it ever so slightly, a little bit at a time, until the door was wide open. 

And I walked on through. 

She's just fine. The girl. Don't worry about her. In fact, she's happier than ever, trapped in her hovel and writing, writing, writing, keeping her company with undead things and cobwebs and old dusty castles and full moons and no one else. 

I wouldn't worry about her. I'm sure she'll be fine. 

I'm sorry. I'm unfocused today. Confused, still. Always confused. But it's good, for that reason, that I have my guiding ghost. 

He's anxious today. While not hostile, perhaps violent. Pushing me to keep going. Literally, pushing me. I feel invisible hands making me keep moving forward and onward. 

This is different. Different than the night at the lake and from other nights. He is taking me somewhere for a reason. There is a purpose. There's something I must do. 

He's taken me to a place that's dark, and old, and natural, and empty. It's the middle of a forest. Somewhere. In some country, some place, that I'm not sure if I've actually ever visited before. 

I've been afraid of a few things since becoming this powerful, almost fearless thing I am now. I was afraid when my Dark Stranger began to appear to me again, stalking me through the city I loved the most. I was afraid of the three winged creatures who tore me and my dark stranger apart and tried to show me what He was. 

But none of those times compare to the feeling I have now. 

This place is so dark, because there are no electric lights for miles upon miles. This place is so silent, so free from cars or people or planes or anything like that, and yet the sound of the crickets and birds and toads and other strange, wild creatures is almost deafening somehow. And I am all alone here. Except for this phantom who more urgently, more angrily, pushes and pulls me to and fro, making me do his bidding. 

I'm not so sure that this ghost is my Hunter anymore. And if he is, he has become so warped with rage and revenge that he is not...himself. Not as I knew him. I don't think this is a friend guiding me so carelessly and roughly. This is an angry spirit. Nothing more, anymore. 

But I'm here now, and I suppose I must follow. To whatever it is that is so desperately important here. 

The pushing and pulling stops at a place that is indistinguishable, here in the heart of this forest. No markings. No buildings. Nothing man-made. No indication that this is the spot I'm meant to have found. 

[She grunts]

Stop it. 

He's pushed me to the ground. 

Here? 

Under here?

Yes, the ground is disturbed somewhat. has been disturbed not too long ago, but perhaps after a few weeks of rain and weather and animals, it looks natural. 

But, I see what you want. I'll dig.

It takes me barely any time whatsoever, with my strength and speed. 

[A long pause]

...What is this? 

Nothing here but black feath-

Black feathers. 

Attached to giant black wings. 

Covering something. 

Containing something. Wrapped around something...

Oh, Beloved. My Dark Stranger. My Beloved. What's happened to you?

He's alive! He's asleep. 

I've never seen him asleep. 

And he's so deeply asleep, too. 

I've...I don't think I've ever been so happy to see him. 

Or to see anyone. 

Wait. Why did you bring me here? Why did you lead me here to him? Why would y-

I can't. I don't know how. 

And, even if I did...

...I wouldn't kill him.

I'm tired of destroying things that I love. 

I'm tired of insisting on this penitent solitude, this embarrassed peace. 

And you? Will you stay with me? Will you make me better? Or will you merely shove me here and there, exerting power you never had when you were alive, so that I can finally be under your control, and doing what you want?

You don't want me to have peace. You want me to kill, just as he did. But you want me to kill for you. You want me to destroy what you deem worthy of destruction. 

[she laughs] I have no time for a self-righteous ghost. I have no time for self-righteousness at all! I warned you, didn't I? I have no time for anything other than your love. And you have no more in you to give. You pathetic thing. 

You need me! 

No! No. I release you. Leave me alone if you won't help. But he has been here for me above all others. And who is to say that I don't love him? That we wouldn't be formidable together?

SILENCE. I have been thinking of this. I have been thinking of that vision he showed me of an empty, beautiful, peaceful world with only wild creatures and us, leaving them be, but ruling over everything else, with our stone thrones high above it all. And what an exciting eternity! Challenging the three powerful white-winged ones who threatened us. Battling them until the end of the world, if there is such a thing as the end of the world, which I don't think there is. 

Perhaps yes. Perhaps I am weak. Perhaps I am giving in to the allure of power and domination. I am indulging. I am giving in to temptation. And oh, it feels so incredible. I don't care! It's incredible! Now that I've admitted it: Begone.

[The piano melody returns, a little more dainty, delicate and ornate]

 I have no need of you. I loved you once, my sweet Hunter, but you would have me caged, just as the rest of them. I banish you. Begone. 

And now, my Beloved. Stay sleeping. Let's go home. I don't know where. But I'll find us a place where you can restore your strength. Where we can pick up where we left off.

Except...

[She exhales]

...I'm sitting on the bigger throne. 

Hi everyone, and thanks so much for stopping by and listening to Episode 30 of On a Dark, Cold Night. My name is Kristen Zaza. And I have no idea what was going on with her this episode. Sometimes - often - I'm very confused by her. Oh well. We'll figure it out together, you and I. 

I've got a few of my usual house keeping things to go over; if you enjoy the show and you get something from these stories and from your Narrator and hey, maybe even from me, please feel free to leave us a review on iTunes. You can also review on Stitcher, Podknife, my website...anything. A good rating and a review really goes a long way for independent podcasters, and I'd be sure to give you an on-air shout-out and a social  media shout-out as well. You can also e-mail any thoughts or questions or anything you want to tell me at all to darkcoldnightpodcast@gmail.com.