TRANSCRIPT - Episode 128: The Ringmaster

January 20th, 2021

Kristen Zaza

[Eerie theme music plays]

Hello there, my friend.

I'm very glad that you're here.

You see, everything is gone.

Well, not everything. My things.

From my home under the treeroots. All of the trinkets that humans have left for me among the trees. All of the baubles, whether they were little twigs and branches twisted together, or whether they were made of metal or plastic, everything anyone ever hang on a tree branch so that I might let them pass through my forest unharmed. All gone.

My Mirror. Huge, elegant, and even more elegant with my haunting reflection in it.

Gone.

Even my door, that I stopped using ages ago.

All gone.

But it's all right. Do not be sorry on my behalf. I am...fine.

It's just that there is nothing left for me to do now but wander.

I'm safe, I'm the most safe thing in this whole wide forest, for I am the most powerful thing here. I'm walking and walking, staring at the white emptiness of the snow. The trees are so covered wit h it, too, that I can no longer see any green, any brown, any grey. It's all white, here. It almost seems empty. But I am no fool. I know it is not.

And I know that it is not, because I saw, some ways away from my home, sitting in the white of the snow, a little bracelet. A tiny thing, made of little tiny, hard flowers, a shade of pink that does not occur in nature.

This was a gift once, to me. One of my first tributes.

I picked it up and clasped it to my heart. I kept going, until I found another tiny thing, glinting in the sunlight.

A little crystal sphere, dangling on a bit of string. I snatched it up, too.

Little by little, I realized that my precious little collectibles were forming a trail.

I followed them for a little while, until my forest showed me two different paths I could go down.

One path had clear weather and a trail of treasures.

The other had only shadows, cold wind, and emptiness. But perhaps, also, mystery, and maybe adventure.

Oh, that's right, you're here with me, my friend. I am here still, at this crossroad. But I am glad that you are with me. 

I think this is a good place to draw a card for this week. Perhaps my cards can tell me which way I ought to go.

I sit on the ground, in the snow. I pull the deck of cards from my mass of silver-white hair, knotted and frayed.

I unwrap them from the sparkling fabric keeping them safe. I shuffle. I draw

The Four of Pentacles, Reversed.

We've seen it upright, not long ago. Upright, it is over-attachment to the material; hoarding one's wealth; dependency on, and fear of losing, money.

So, Reversed, it is instead the releasing of the material; letting go of money. Rather, letting go of the need for money, especially the need for it in order to add comfort and joy and value to one's life. It is the realization that one's true value lies elsewhere, and that is that elsewhere that deserves attention. The Four of Pentacles Reversed asks us to shed our old skins; skins that are clinging to things, to people, to issues, that do not feed our heart. Even if they feed our pocket, they do not necessarily feed our heart. With this, of course, comes a sense of instability, insecurity. But I think that sometimes we need to feel those things, in order to understand where our real freedom lies. Our power. Our center.

I look at the two paths before me.

To the right, a path strewn with treasure and security.  To the left, nothing but darkness and mystery.

The decision does not seem quite so obvious when you look at these two paths.

I want to go left. I truly do. But I'm a little afraid.

I tell you what.

Why don't you go ahead for me?

Doesn't that sound fun?

You can go ahead without me while I stay here, that way it will be all yours to see.

You must take care to keep breathing and stay calm, knowing that nothing will harm you, no matter what you see or hear.

You must take care to keep listening to my voice, but not to look back, never look back at me. Because if I'm not there, you'll be frightened, but you mustn't be because you're meant to see it in its entirety. There are other incredible sights to see other than me here.

Don't be afraid. You'll be great. You already are.

Now you go first, and tell me what's ahead. Please.

The path grows even darker than you thought it would be able to. At first the snow went from white, to grey, but now it is so dark that it seems black. The trees are thick and the moonlight cannot get through them. The wind howls in your ears, whispering to you to keep going, to turn back, to keep going, to turn back, and it cannot make up its mind. Soon, it is all you can do, to just keep your hands outstretched, feeling your way through the trees, the rough, cold bark under your bare palms giving you something to grasp. Like a dream, where your destination keeps getting farther and farther away, you pull on these trees with the same slow gravity as if you were climbing a vertical mountain.

Until there are no more trees to grab, and there's just emptiness.

[A faint, strange, waltz is heard from the distance]

No, wait, not quite. There is...something.

Do you hear that sound? What is it? What does it sound like? I cannot hear it, how would you describe it to me? I do so love music.

Lights, at first just a few, but then many, of all the different colours of the rainbow, next.

They are far away, those lights, but it still takes your eyes time to adjust to them. Are they moving? Spinning? Spelling words, perhaps?

Why, it's a circus!

There's a Big Top, just up there - a giant tent with huge, garish stripes running all over it.

There is a carousel, I think. A few different caravans, booths, smaller tents, all of varying colours.

A circus. A carnival. A circus, how lovely.

As you approach it, you're struck by the fact that the snow has disappeared and the air is much warmer. After all, have you ever heard of a circus coming to town in the winter? It must, therefore, be autumn here. Autumn is the best time for the circus, don't you think?

Next, you're struck by the strange sight of complete emptiness. There is no one here. There are no guests. No lineups. Just you, and that music, as you walk up to the first booth you see on your way towards the Big Top.

You stand where the queue should be. You walk in between the velvet ropes, and go right to the window.

But wait, there is someone there.

"Ticket please," a voice calls from inside, and slides the colourful and striped window shutter to the side, revealing the source of the request. It is a woman. a little frazzled looking, a little impatient, tapping her fingers against the counter before her. Her brow is furrowed as she looks down at the  ledger, and she seems a little dismayed at the fact that it is entirely empty. Indeed, you are the only guest here. She looks up at you from under her glasses, which are ill-fitting and perpetually sliding down her nose, and extends her hand, palm upward.

You almost say that you haven't got a ticket but would like to purchase one, so you preemptively reach into your pocket. You didn't bring your wallet to this fantasy, but somehow in your pocket you feel something else - a thick and familiar slip of paper, creased at its end. You pull it out and indeed, it says "Admit One". You hand it to the girl  who, seemingly distracted and certainly not meaning to seem stand-offish or strange, bends it back and forth in her hand a few times before ripping it in half and giving you the stub. "I hope you have fun," she calls out after you as you go on in.

Though you see a few caravans with strange, rune-like images on them you've never seen before - swirling and arching symbols painted with a careful hand and an elegant eye, contrasting sharp lines with curving circles - they are all shuttered and locked. Where are the performers? Where are the games? Where is everyone?  But it doesn't matter, because there is only one sign that truly catches your eye.  

"The Puppet Theatre", the sign reads. It hangs over a little door leading into the big top.

You have to crouch to crawl through it, and so you do.

And there it is.

Inside the big top, there is so much space. There is a stadium of seats, so many seats, and when the circus is performing, how majestic this all must seem, when all the audience is in their seats and they roar and applaud as acrobats and contortionists and more swirl up above them in the rafters and down below them on the stage.

But it is empty now. And on the stage, there is the puppet theatre; the real one. A little box, waiting, in the middle of the stage. A stage upon a stage, if you will.

It is small, for a theatre; about as tall as you are. There is a little step ladder for the puppeteer to mount, so that they might control the wooden performers from up above. The tiny stage is hidden, with two red velvet curtains keeping it secret for now.

And in front of it, also on the stage, there is only one chair laid out. Just for you.

The light is pleasantly dim, here, inside the big top. A little eerie, but it's all right.

Until suddenly, a spotlight flashes agressively down on the one chair.

"128", the number on the seat indicat es. You check your ticket. "128". It is your seat.

Might as well take a seat, you decide.

And you sit in silence.

For some time.

Waiting.

And the spotlight goes out, and the entire tent is in the dark.

Until BOOM!

[The music returns; more lively, perhaps on an accordion or fiddle or harpsichord or organ]

Out she comes! The Ringmaster!

One moment it was completely dark, the next, the stage flooded with light and she was there. How long was she waiting there, in the dark, to make her presence known to you? Her arms are outstretched, hearing thousands of hands applauding for her that are heard but not seen. She bows at the invisible applause, and then makes a grand circle around the puppet theatre so that she can smile and wave at the invisible audience in the stadium around her.

Oh, how splendiforous, how immensely delightful, she appears to be! Wearing a suit of red and black, how fetching she is in that suit of red and black, with the coat of the long tail trailing behind her and the collar huge and popped up around her face. Her top hat is huge, black with a red stripe around its base, with a brim so wide that it hides her entire face in shadow, and yet you can see her grin. Sort of. You don't have a great view of it, but you know she is smiling. As  she waves her arms in a kind of dance which is all about presentation, you see her tall, gleaming boots with a big gold buckle; you see the shining black gloves that go up to her elbows. You see a bunch of black lace climbing up her throat. And since you can't see her face,  you realize that all that you can see is completely covered in fabric. For being so present and presented to this invisible audience, this Ringmaster is completely hidden at the same time.

"Welcome to my Puppet Theatre!" She cries out joyfully, and spins, and ends right in front of you.

"You there," she says, pointing right at you. "Ready yourself. For here, in my little world, my little stage, my little wonderland, I have sights, I have sounds, I have spectacles. But most of all, I have stories."

[A choir of "oohs" and "aahhs" surrounds from the audience]

"It is so familiar, as if you've been here before, is it not? It is so mysterious, as if you've never seen such a thing before, isn't it? It is everything and nothing here in my little theatre," she says, rambling a bit as she climbs the stairs leading to the top of the structure before you. "My life in the circus, my life for the circus, for my stories and my little players within them. Sit back, relax, and listen, and see them dance for you!"

Hands from the darkness reach out and hand you a little box of popcorn. Or is it ice cream? Is it something else you'd prefer, maybe? Either way, it's in front of you now, and I hope that makes you smile.

The Ringmaster makes a show of lifting little wooden control rods that are connected to fine strings, strings so fine you shiver with awe at the idea of not being able to even see them once the show starts. Then, she takes a deep breath, and raises her arms parallel to the ground. With her splayed fingers she looks like a witch at a cauldron. She closes her eyes, and the lights go out again, the spotlight moving from you to the little puppet stage. The red curtains part, and you see a tiny marionette make her way out onto the stage.

It is the form of a child, a little girl, happily skipping before a backdrop of a forest, green and shadowy. She sings and laughs and plays.

"Oh, what a beautiful day! But I mustn't stray too far into the forest, or else Mother and Father will never find me." The Ringmaster does a strange impression of a child. "Oh! What is that! A little toad? Come here, my little friend!"

See how the child ignores her own best advice and follows the little slimy thing into the woods! Oh, despair! Oh, terror! Oh, mistake, mistake, mistake!

See the yellow eyes, glowing? A clever stage trick, to have pricked two little holes in the darkest part of the backdrop, and to have someone there holding a bright lamp behind them. The spotlight dims, and the child puppet is alone with those eyes.

"Oh dear," Our little hero cries. "I have lost my way!"

"What are you doing in my woods, little one?" a monstrous voice calls out from the shadows. And a new puppet emerges.

A strange puppet, with a mess of muddy hair, with bloody lips and fingers, and green skin all over. There are little plants coming from the monster puppet, too. But worst of all is the way that the two empty holes in the marionette's skull glow from within. Another easy trick, but a very frightening one indeed.

"You must be very afraid of me!" The Monster-puppet growls, crouched and lurking in the shadows.

"Indeed not," the child says, precocious to an almost unbelievable  extent. But puppetry is no medium for realism, I think. "I was afraid that I was lost. But surely, something with lovely bright eyes such as you would not lead me astray."

And the child reaches out with a tiny bracelet, a strange colour of pink and too large for a puppet, in fact it's the same one from my very own woods, isn't it? And the Monster takes the bracelet and does a dance. The child puppet joins in.

"Where are you, my child! Come back to us!" Her parents call out from off-stage, for your Ringmaster is also an expert at throwing her voice, you see.

The child and the monster bow at one another, and the child skips away merrily as the red curtains draw themselves once more.

The invisible applause resume.

What a familiar story, you think to yourself. In fact, I think it is from...

"And so you see, our Monster learned the value of being loved! Of being good! Or something like that!"

Laughs, laughter from an invisible audience.

Through the crowd's laughter, though, you turn around and notice that it seems as though the big top has gone, and you have a clear view of the night sky. The thousands of seats seem perhaps a little more like a hundred now. The lights are a bit more dim. Weren't there more caravans, more tents before?

"And another story!" The Ringmaster cries out, as the curtains part again.

The backdrop of the scene is the night sky, and there is a little prop that looks like a treetop. A marionette of a young man sits in that treetop, with a lyre, wearing a white shirt and black pants and strapping leather boots. His face is forlorn and admiring. He is so clearly a lover. The RIngmaster's hands move deftly as she makes it appear as though he is playing the little lyre.

"Oh it's so cold and lonely, all alone up in the sky;

It's so cold, if only - if only I could fly."

And at his song, another puppet is lowered into the scene. She is a resplendent lady, all in white, sitting on a tiny moon. She bobs in the scenery, her hands at her heart, sighing at the other puppet's song.

The Ringmaster resumes her narrative as she says: "Ever apart, never to touch, the lovers meet only once..." She makes the two puppets fly up towards each other, gingerly swaying off the ground like little beautiful wooden birds. She draws them so closely and carefully, their little lips about to touch, when she says: "And then, see what happens when they meet -"

And a tiny flash and a pop come from the stage! A little bit of dazzle and fire! He is alight, our Lover, but he does not burn. He is bright as a star. And she...she falls to earth where it is dark, and cold, and green, very, very green. The lady puppet reaches up with her hand, trying to entreat the now blazing star to stay with her, not to leave her alone in this strange place.

"But she was of the earth, and he, a burning star now. How could they ever touch?"

And she lowered her head and walked the earth forevermore, as the curtains drew themselves again.

"Do not despair, my friends!" The Ringmaster cries as the audience sniffles and sobs and claps. "For what are we, if not wanting things? What more do we have, if we do not have our longing?"

This sounds familiar.

I don't like it.

Do you like it?

I don't like it. It sounds like...someone else.

As you look around, you realize the seats around you have gone. There is no more stadium. There is just the stage, and you, and the puppet theatre.  One or two other tenfs and the ticket booth - but they've lost their colour. They're almost black and white now. Where have all the lights gone? Now it's only the spotlight on the puppet theatre.

"Fear not, though, beloved audience!" The Ringmaster calls out. "For we have one more tale."

The red curtains part on the image of two women before the backdrop of a little wooden cabin. One, old and hunched over, a blindfold over her eyes and holding a huge staff. The other, a young woman, sitting up straight.

"Look into my eyes, dearie," the Ringmaster makes the old woman say as she very carefully removed her blindfold. It seems like each of her wooden fingers could move of their own accord. "For I want to give you the loveliest curse of all - a most terrible blessing!" You are certain that there are no strings moving these marionettes now. You look up to the Ringmaster and see that she is not holding any rods in either of her hands now. She is just holding her hands still as stone, over the scene before you. You cannot see her lips move, because you cannot see her face.

"And what happens when we remove her blindfold, friends?" Our Ringmaster calls out. And with a snap of her fingers, the spotlight dies, and little twinkling lights - just like the stars - shine through the backdrop. They spread out and shine across your face, across the stage, even against the night sky around you, mingling with the real stars in the sky. They even sparkle across the ticket booth, reflecting off of the ticket taker's thick-rimmed glasses. Stars in her eyes. Stars in the puppets eyes. And stars in your eyes.

"It is too much! It is everything!" The younger puppet on the stage shrieks as she covers her eyes.

"No, no, not at all, my sweet" - the old lady puppet says, and wraps the girl in her shawl and hands her her staff. She places the blindfold over her eyes. She does things no puppet could be able to do in reality, because you are listening to her and not seeing her anyway, so let her do as she pleases. "You can see all of it because all of it is in you. Do what you want with it." And the old lady marionette skips off the stage.

"What did the young girl do, now that she had the universe in her eyes?" The RIngmaster asks you.

"I don't know!" You call out. Because that wasn't really in the story, was it? We know that the girl went off to help people and be kind and do nice things, but we don't know exactly what she did, do we?

"Oh, come now," the Ringmaster coos to you, and turns the young puppet to face you, even though she is blindfolded. "You can guess."

"She...she gives the Universe to anyone who dares look into her eyes?" You hazard.

The Ringmaster smiles and descends the scaffolding above the stage. The puppet does not move, though. As the ringmaster comes towards you, the puppet theatre fades to black, and disappears entirely. And only then do you realize so too has everything else. Everything except for your chair, for the RIngmaster, and for the ticket booth, far away behind you, for some reason.

She stands in front of you, arms at her sides, palms facing up. Her head is bowed, so again, under her top hat all you see are her grinning lips. She does not move.

Neither do you.

It is silent now.

The spotlight is gone. You are just in a dark place, across from this strange person.

"Who sent you here?" She asks.

You think for a moment to try and describe me, but you cannot.

She smiles with her teeth. "I see."

Her teeth are all sharp. Every single one of them.

She tilts her head up, and her eyes are black.

She stays perfectly still - so still, it's terrifying, and absolutely impossible for a real, living thing.

And slowly, her mouth opens into a wide, silent scream, and two great black wings extend behind her as she flies at you faster than you are able to avoid.

And she leaves.

You're alone.

Trembling, or not trembling - I don't know how easily you scare, after all - you head back towards the ticket booth.

The girl with the glasses smirks a bit at you.

"Thrilled and chilled, were we?" She asks. You nod.

"Put out your hand," she requests. You acquiesce.

She places a little tiny glass marble in the palm of your hand.

You look closer, and you see stripes of red and black and gold. If you looked very, very carefully, you could see an entire circus in there.

"If you like it, here - have them all," she says, and hands you a little  sack, made of some sparkling material. Inside, there are many, many marbles. Over a hundred. You look at a few. A wintry forest with a starry sky, in one. A haunted cemetery with happy ghosts, in another. A frightening castle full of moths and spiders in another. A sunken shipwreck under the sea. A deserted school. A ghost town. And so on, and so on, and so on, and so on, and so on...

She watches you as you leave to return to me at the crossroad.  "Don't forget to rate and review!" You hear her voice call out, distantly, followed by a bit of laughter. You roll your eyes. The ticket-taker is making sure that your journey back to me is a safe one. And it is.

I smile as I see you return.

You try to offer me the bag of marbles.

I shake my head.

"What are these for, if not for sharing? If not for giving away?" I ask you.

So do with them what you like, my friends. I don't mind.

But I can't hang on to them anymore.

I let the little bracelet, the crystal pendant, and a few other baubles fall into the snow. I think that whoever finds them next will be so enchanted to see them.

It will take some time, but I think I'm going to choose the path to the left, just as you did.

I don't think the circus will be there.

But something else probably will.

Taking my first step, and...

Off I go.

Thank you for being brave tonight.

Have sweet rest.

And we'll speak soon.

Goodnight.

[Eerie theme music]

(Host speaks as Kristen:)

Hello everyone, and thank you so much for tuning in this week to Episode 128 of On a Dark, Cold Night. This is Kristen Zaza speaking - your writer, narrator, podcaster, composer, and clumsy metaphorist. I hope you're doing well out there in the big wide world.

I want to start with some thank-yous - this week, a big thank-you is going out to Gary, my newest  patron of the show via Patreon.com. Thank you so, so much for supporting what I do, Gary! Every monthly patreon supporter of On a Dark, Cold Night receives access to my ever-evolving soundtrack of the show - if this is something that sounds interesting to you, head on over patreon.com/darkcoldnight to check it out! If you'd rather give a one-time donation instead, without that perk, you can also contribute via Ko-fi.com - learn more at ko-fi.com/darkcoldnight . And we've also got some wearable merch, if you'd like a t-shirt or hoodie - head on over to bonfire.com/on-a-dark-cold-night.

I know I not so gracefully made a joke about it earlier, but it's also a great help to the show if you can leave us a rating and review on iTunes, Stitcher, my Facebook page, or anywhere else you like to rate podcasts! You can also follow me on social media; I'm on Twitter @ADarkColdNight, instagram at darkcoldnightpodcast, or on my facebook or youTube pages just called On a Dark, Cold Night.

Thank you so much for listening tonight my friends. I'll keep things brief since I feel like this was a long story with a lot of "me", but...thank you. I hope you have sweet dreams tonight and get the rest you need to wake up and share some marbles yourselves. Take care, and talk soon.

[Eerie theme music]

This podcast has been brought to you by the Sonar Network.