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TRANSCRIPT - Episode 99: The Empress

March 22nd, 2020

[Eerie theme music plays]

Hello everyone.

Perhaps you're confused at hearing a voice here, still, on the other end of the line.

The writer, host, podcaster, creator, behind On a Dark, Cold Night.

I really hope you're doing all right. I usually only speak to you for a little while, but tonight, it's going to be just me.

Because the other one is gone.

I almost can't believe it.

I can't believe it, just as I'm having trouble believing that everything is upside down and changed and different and quiet and distant and completely in upheaval.

I had planned for her to be gone, and I had planned for it to happen by this point as well, but I didn't know that it would come at a time when I would miss her so very much.

You must have realized, now, that I've been in control this whole time.

I didn't want to be. I didn't mean to be. I'm not sure I've handed it terribly well. But it is what it is, and it is me.

I know. She's very charming.

She's very mysterious.

She's very strange and confident and magical and horrific.

She's everything I love.

She came from me as though I was her mother.

I may have no children, but I have her. I had her. I have her still, I suppose.

I have so many things to answer for you, I'm sure. So many things.

She was ancient and she was powerful. She was wise, too. And real, quite real, and yet not so real.

I think the world has memory. And we are of the world, and so we also contain the world's memory.

She contained my memory of the world. My memory of a world that I wasn't here to witness, long before me. She is my memory of the darkest corners of the world that I am not brave enough nor free enough to visit. She is my memory of what it feels like to stand on a mountaintop and breathe in fresh, cold air. She is my memory of what it feels like to swim in a deep, deep ocean with your eyes open. She is my memory of a world that's long been denied to me.

I'm a woman, untethered and unbound, in a world that is growing more and more invisible.

I don't want to be invisible.

I don't want to be lost.

I don't want my life to fade away, without having done anything incredible.

So I birthed her.

[A gentle melody on piano plays; it's the lullabye from "If I Were a Book". It plays like a music box on repeat.]

I’ve written nearly one hundred stories, including this one,

Yet this one I shall perform for you a little differently.

This one, I have been working on for some time -

Some parts of it, you’ll discover, might rhyme -

While others won’t, because poetry is as intangible and ephemeral a thing

As Your Narrator is.

As Your Narrator was.

As I am and as I was,

You know this, you know it well,

You know I’m exactly who I tell

Because, for all of the fiction, for all the pretty yarns I spin and the melancholy shadows I shared with you,

You know that I tell no lies.

I cannot lie, not to you. Perhaps to everyone else, yet not to you.

What’s been the meaning of all of this? Why have I done this?

Why have I spent over two years of my life, writing, typing, speaking, sending

Out into the world,

Story after story, puzzle after puzzle, and the lockbox of my heart,

Mostly unedited?

Mostly whole, coming forth from my finger tips like Penelope’s Great Tapestry,

To stave off the reality at my door?

What has it all been for, after all?

Because I am the Empress.

In the Tarot Deck, she is the Mother, and I am the Empress.

Though I have no children to call my own,

Though I’ve got no castles built of stone,

Floating in the sky or standing in the sea,

I have one thing to cleave to.

I have that which I’m mother and wife and sister and friend to.

And that is she who waits with empty eyes, waiting to be filled -

This was a gift to you, sure, my stories, my voice,

But it was more a gift to me.

I am not ashamed to speak it.

I am not ashamed to be it anymore.

Let me tell you a bit about me.

My name is Kristen.

I am thirty years old.

I have spent the better part of thirty years being afraid of absolutely everything

Except for ghosts, and vampires, and monsters, and witches.

I have found myself afraid of disappointing those who I love,

And I have found myself afraid of those who love and do not want to disappoint me.

I have found myself

Staring in a mirror, late at night, and thinking:

Who is this girl staring back at me?

She is as absolutely dreadful as any vampire prince I’ve ever adored.

She is as frighteningly stunning as any white-eyed monster I’ve ever admired.

She is as devastatingly strong as any undead creature I’ve awed at.

But where is she by day?

She is hidden, deep away,

And where she goes, I cannot say.

And so I made her come out to play

How wonderful that you came to listen.

How wonderful that you joined us on our adventures,

Me and my Dark-Eyed Girl

Who found her wings halfway through her tale.

What did that mean?

It meant I wanted to fly.

It is no more complicated than that.

Read into everything as much as you like, but know -

Deep down, deep in that hidden late-night mirror-place -

I wanted to fly up to the stars at night and look down

Watching, on a balcony,

Longing for the stars.

For She Who Flies Up To The Stars And Conquers, is no more wondrous than

She Who Looks Up At The Stars and Loves Them.

The Moon is Out Tonight.

The Moon is Full Tonight.

There is No Moon Tonight.

Isn’t that strange?

Where are you as you listen to this?

Do you hate this I don’t care.

Imagine a street lamp at night.

I wrote a poem about a street lamp when I was seventeen

And everyone in my class thought I was a bit too much.

I’ll tell you a bit about that street lamp.

It waits at night, on whichever road you find yourself walking

When no one else walks with you,

And only the moon hangs above you,

And only your footfall follows you.

It spreads a warm pool of golden light like an umbrella beneath itself, for you to come stand under,

And wait for something.

It is longing. It is longing, itself, that you wait for.

My longing used to look like an awful lycanthropic creature with a wolf’s head and snapping jaws.

Then it was a Gentleman Stranger, strong and graceful, cruel and kind, with manicured claws.

Then there was no one under the street lamp for a very, very long time.

And two years ago, I came back to my street lamp that I wrote about so long ago,

When I didn’t know anything about Souls or Hearts or the world

I didn’t know about love or hate or the world

I didn’t know anything about the world.

When I did know a bit more about the world (and yet still didn’t understand it),

Yes, I came back to my Street Lamp

And I found myself waiting there.

But it was too late.

It was too late to be her.

I had grown up.

Unlike Peter Pan, I outgrew my shadow and she’d been lost for so long.

Lost to the dream of snapping jaws and manicured claws.

I forgot that I am magic, too.

There she stood.

As terrifying as I’ve ever dreamed of being.

Just waiting to be born.

Little did I know

I am fictional, too.

So perhaps you see my struggle now?

I’ve lost clarity in writing this

(That is, if ever I had it to begin with)

Because I found that I could be who I always wanted to be.

It just so happened that, what I wanted to be when I grew up

(far too late, lamentably late)

So I became her here.

If She is Who I want to be, and I made her for you here,

And I let myself be her,

Then who indeed is the fiction?

I struggle to answer it.

Oh how I wish I could tell you I crafted deliberate puzzles for you!

Oh how ashamed I am to tell you that I had no plan!

But I told you from the beginning!

I did not make you any promises that I did not keep

It’s hard to keep track.

I am happy and I am well and I lead a good life.

But I wish, I wish, oh how I wish

Upon every single star I see this night

And every night

That there is magic in the world.

That there are ghosts and vampires and souls and creatures

And sirens and swamp things and harbingers and sleeping beauties

And Midnight Balls and strange princesses and erlkings and

Fairy revels and satyrs and werewolves and

I have to believe that there are because if I don’t believe that then I don’t know if I’d believe in anything and so I choose to believe in it all.

In short, here is the truth of the matter, the whole truth, or mostly the truth anyway, because sometimes I tell you to look at the moon and tell you that I am looking too just like the poets used to say to their loved ones, but is that true? Sometimes it is true, and sometimes it is a lie, because I am just me. I am only me. But anyway, here's the truth of the matter.

[The Lullabye returns; this time, with a voice humming and singing underneath]

One night, I sat in front of a mirror and I stared, I stared into it so hard that I thought my eyes might give up on me entirely.

And I saw myself, yet not myself, looking back at me. And yet my eyes were not the same.

They were black.

And I could swear that she was smiling, the one in the mirror, where I was not. I knew it.

And though I was afraid, I did not want her to go away.

So I made her. I created her. I mothered her.

And then she created me right back.

I've known the truth for a long, long time.

There are many versions of us. There have been many versions of us. And there will be many versions of us.

At the end of the day, it doesn't matter, though.

Because we're here now, and this is the only us that will happen in this way, and we must adore this version of us.

Here's one more story. One last one for you.

Once upon a time, there was a girl who lay in her bed and saw a figure standing there, staring at her.

She's there, waiting for you, too.

But wait. There's one more episode left. One more, before we say goodbye just for a little while. Not forever. Just for a short break, until we can start again. Try again, for a season.

One more episode left. I'll finish the story then.

Until then, though, goodnight.

My dear friends.

[Eerie theme music plays]

[out of character, as Kristen:]

Hello everyone. Obviously, it's me again, Kristen Zaza, the creative team behind On a Dark, Cold Night. As I said before, I hope that you're well. I'm thinking of you, all my listeners out there in this really difficult time, and really wishing the best for all of you. Thank you so much for tuning in to Episode 99. It's great to speak with you.

First off, I would like to say a big thank you to someone who's username is "Some Amateur" on Stitcher (I promise, that's what they call themselves, I'm not insulting them, I think they're awesome.) Some Amateur left us a five star review called "Beautiful, Chilling Stories" which reads: "This podcast is a gem, and I am so thankful to have found it. Your narrator, a character herself, begins by telling you about observations and occurrences in her own life, and follows with a short, spooky story. These tales are a beautifully crafted blend of tension, personal conflict and beauty that must be heard to be fully appreciated. Like laying in bed on a stormy night, these chilling stories and calming narration will make you want to listen close and snuggle up a little tighter under the covers." Oh my gosh, thank you so so much for this really sweet review, Some Amateur. If you would also like to support On a Dark, Cold Night, you can leave me a review on iTunes, Stitcher, or on our Facebook page.

I have something pretty cool to announce - if you're listening to this right as it's released, then look out for my first of what will hopefully be many live social media events coming up. I planned to do these between seasons, but since we're all practising social distancing (or should be!), I thought it would make sense to bump them up a bit earlier and do them more frequently. So, tomorrow - that's March 22nd - I'm going to do some live readings over instagram and facebook live. I'm going to read some classic horror literature - or rather, Your Narrator is - so if you'd like to hear some spooky stories in real time, come check it out. I'll be starting at 7pm Eastern Time. You can send me your requests over social media if you like - I'll be taking as many requests as possible, and giving first choice to Patreon or Ko-fi supporters. Speaking of which, I need to thank a new Patreon supporter we got this week - thanks so much to Jimmy Smick for pledging $5 a month to support the show. I can't tell you how much this means, especially now, so thank you so much Jimmy. I know it's a really tricky time for all of us financially right now, but if you're a position to help and want to support the show, you can do so by buying me a coffee at ko-fi.com/darkcoldnight, or you can help like Jimmy did through Patreon as well, where every monthly patron of any amount can have access to the soundtrack of the show. Find me there at patreon.com/darkcoldnight. We also have On a Dark, Cold Night t-shirts and hoodies available at bonfire.com/on-a-dark-cold-night, which I believe is still operating at this moment and delivering merch.

Also, give me a shout-out on Twitter @ADarkColdNight, instagram at darkcoldnightpodcast, or on my Facebook page or YouTube channel, both called On a Dark, Cold Night. You can send in requests here for the live show tomorrow, or just say hi. Whatever you like, buds.

Season 2 is still going to be coming in July, if not earlier now, though it's hard to say anything for certain at the moment. I will say that it will definitely happen, though, so keep an ear to the ground.

Again, please take care of yourselves, my friends. Stay home if you can. I know everyone is saying this on tv and online, but it really does bring me comfort: You are not alone. None of us are. Hang in there, my friends.

And sweet dreams.

[Eerie theme music plays]