04/05/2017 14:24:13 ¶ ●

## Ghost Stories

You can purchase Ghost Stories here.

Transcript of the bonus tracks here.

1. Intro

Meg Bashwiner: And now, listeners of every kind: the voice of Night Vale, Cecil Baldwin!

[applause]

Cecil: We have nothing to fear but fear itself. Also many other things, several of which can be found in your home. Welcome to Night Vale!

Listeners, honest honored listeners, Cecil here as always your voice to carry you through the lonely hours. Today is a very special day indeed. Today, as we all know, is the annual Night Vale ghost story contest. In which every citizen is required to put forward their scariest, spookiest tale of spectors and haunts. The City Council chooses their favorite, and the winner is, through a process that is truly terrifying in its simplicity, turned into a ghost. The losers are forced to continue in forms that primarily depend upon the containment and transportation of oozes and glob.

Now I’m sure that you’ve all been preparing your own entry for the ghost story contest, since all of you will soon have to stand up and deliver it to the gathered people. But before all of you each individually have your turn, I thought that I might indulge myself for a moment and tell you my own entry to your ghost story contest. Are you all OK with that? [applause] I have no idea what you just said so, gonna nod and give myself a thumbs up and I think we’re all good here.

2. Horoscopes

But first, let’s have a look at today’s horoscopes. Leo? [silence] Leo? [audience whoops] Leo! Bet all your money on red! All those material possessions were only weighing you down. Soon you will be in many ways – free-er than the rest of us.

Virgo? You know that one spot on your back that itches and itches and itches and you just can’t stand it? Well, good thing: you won’t have to deal with that or anything else after tomorrow night.

Libra? Draw your loved ones closer to you. That first drawing you did was no good, no, draw them like closer to you. There’s too much white space on the page! How are your loved ones supposed to love you if you can’t even draw them right?

Scorpio? OK so, I think we all know by now that this is the sign of.. uuughhh.. Steve Carlsberg. Who is my sister Abby’s husband. Now, usually the horoscope just happens to turn out something quite mean for Scorpio. Purely through the unknowable combination of fate and random chance that is the meeting of the stars. But Abby said that the stars had better knock that off! Especially if they want to be invited to their niece Janice’s first ballet fight. So, let’s see how this goes. Scorpio. Things are looking bright. What a great day you have before you! Look how clear the sky, how green the grass how – dumb and oversized your feet look. [gleefully] No really, I hope you don’t trip or rip your pants not even once! How terrible it would be if that happened! But it probably won’t through, so there you go. [mutters] Scorpios…

Sagittarius? Ahahahahahahaha, aahahahahahahaha, aaahahahahahaha!

Capricon? Things fall apart, the center cannot hold, mere anarchy is loosed upon the world. The blood (–) [02:42] tide is loosed upon the world and everywhere! So your home carpentry project will not go well next week. There’s just too much blood.

Aquarius? OK, you are just two dogs in a trench coat, Aquarius. I mean I hate to break it to you, but you have no opposable thumbs, or language skills. And you’ve always been two dogs in a trench coat! [cooing] Yes you are, yes you arrre!! [kissing noises] Now go outside! Good dogs!

Pisces? If you don’t have anything nice to say, try saying something mean. I mean there are lots of options for things to say.

Aries? Ooh. OK, so this horoscope is just a picture of a bear. And next to the bear is the lizard and next to the lizard is the pelican. And there’s a combined speech bubble above them all that says “We regret the storm that took your lives.” And they’re smiling and (-) [0:03:57] some mugs of beer together. And they have their feet up on skulls. And if you look really closely you’ll notice that they’re not standing on a pile of sticks, but on a pile of human bones?! And unfortunately I believe that in this cartoon, Aries – you’re the pelican!

Taurus? No sunshine for you, Taurus! Nope! The sun’s light has been blocked, but only for you. Oh yes, everyone else will walk in sunny rays, sunshades and shorts, wide smiles and hat brims, SPF 50 and a Frisbee at the beach. You will likely lose feeling in your skin due to the cold of a [sinister voice] sunless world! [friendly voice] Good luck!

Gemini? They say an onion has many layers. Gemini, you are like that onion. Time has peeled away, one after another, each of your hard, pungent layers: snap, snap, snap! They (pry) off and urgent fingernails pry away the remnants as you grow smaller, wetter, less complex. Ooh, also like an onion, your odor makes as cry.

Cancer? Well this just says “chainsaw accident”. So I bet that’s a metaphor for something really goood!

3. A Word from our Sponsors

Cecil: And now a word from our sponsors. For that, we have a sentient patch of haze here in the studio with me, and her name is Deb! Deb?

Deb: Thank you Cecil. Today I am here on behalf American Airlines – your partner in the sky.

Cecil: Fantastic. What does American have to say to us today?

Deb: American Airlines is committed to.. [giggling] your safety! And comfort.. [giggling] and getting you into the air. It is our promise that we will get you up there. You will rise from the ground. For sure, that will happen. And you will soar above the clouds.

Cecil: Well that’s wonderful to hear, you know it’s reassuring to know that American Airlines will see us safely and comfortably through takeoff, flight, and landing!

Deb: [long beat] No Cecil. We didn’t say that. We don’t wanna promise we can’t say for sure we can deliver on. We will get you up there.

Cecil: And then what then?

Deb: Oh, what anywhen? Do we see the future?

Cecil: Oh?

Deb: No.

Cecil: No.

Deb: Life is chaotic, and it would be irresponsible to start making promises.

Cecil: Yes, but mostly you land those planes, rights?

Deb: I haven’t checked lately. But if it helps you to say that out loud, then certainly you should do that, yeah, mm hm.

Cecil: Why do I always end up so worried after talking to you, Deb?

Deb: American Airlines. What goes up, must come down. We guarantee it.

Cecil: Alright, well thank you Deb.

Deb: So you’re all telling ghost stories, huh?

Cecil: Oh yes, yes we are.

Deb: Good. I have a wonderful story of a haunting to tell. It’s very popular among us, sentient patches of haze.

Cecil: Oh please, tell it.

Deb: Once upon a time, a nice family of sentient patches of haze moved into an ooold house. They were young and optimistic and ready to start a home, but soon they realized something was teeeerribly wrong. They heard noises in the night. Voices, folky yet slickly produced singer-songwriter music. At first they assumed it was just their imagination, but soon they saw shapes in the halls and bedrooms. They noticed movement in the corner of the parts of their haze that they used to see with. One day, one of the sentient patches turned the corner and there – [disgusted] was a human standing there! As clear as a day, as opaque as flesh. Well, that poor little patch screamed and floated away. But now they knew, [creepily] there were humans haunting their house.

Cecil: Now wait. Humans often live in houses, I mean did the humans own the house?

Deb: Oh Cecil, there you go again. Serving as a propaganda mouthpiece for the capitalist machine that says sentient patches of haze aren’t allowed to move into and take over any house that a human “owns”!

Cecil: Wait, a mouthpiece for the capitalist machine? Deb, your job is literally to be a spokeshaze for multinational corporations!

Deb: Hmph! Hmph! Hmph! How dare you! My contradictions are my own to grapple with. I’m leaving. Thank you for giving me time on the air, I appreciate it.

Cecil: Well it was an ad, and I’m assuming you get paid for those?

Deb: Sure if that assumption is helpful to you, goodbye Cecil.

Cecil: Alright, thank you Deb!

4. Ghost story #1

And now, listeners, a ghost story. MY ghost story.

It begins ten years ago, on a night just like – tonight. Heavy fog covered the town of Night Vale, turning the world into a blurry approximation, familiar landmarks into educated guesses. No stars, and the full moon diffused by the mist into a soft, feeble light from all around.

A man was driving down a dark road, there were no other cars around. And on the side of the road, up ahead, he saw a figure. A figure made strange by the half-hearted moon, a brief pause in a long fog. Now the figure had its hand up. It did not (thumb) (-), but instead gave a languid wave, more of a summons than a request. And the man shivered, for he knew that it was on this very stretch of road one year to the day before that day that was ten years ago on a night just like tonight. The oooold mill, finally burned down. And when it went, there was a woman inside of it. Now, it’s hard to fathom why she was there in that abandoned disused mill, but she was. And the unthinkable happened, without anyone having to think of it at all. And since then, it has been said that in the darkest hours of the darkest nights, a young woman flags down cars on the side of the road where the old mill used to be. And if they’re foolish enough to let her into the car, she stares directly at the driver. And if the driver is foolish enough to look her in the eyes even once – she takes them to her home. A dark, eternal place from which no one, ever, returns.

Still, he couldn’t leave behind what could be a person in need of aid just because of some spooky old story. So he pulled over, and the figure reached out her hand and opened the passenger door and – there was a cold breath, air from dead lungs that the mist curled into the car, and the figure sat.

And the driver was careful to look not too closely or for too long.
“Um, uh, where are you headed?” the man said, but the figure was silent. So he began to drive once again. And the fog billowed as he drove, and he could swear that he could see that old mill as it had once stood, leaning and ramshackle. Now, that mill had not been in working order in decades, it was probably just its time to go when it burned, but still. He mourned the loss of what had been a part of his own.
“Where to?” he said again without turning or looking at his passenger. And the figure spoke. The figure spoke with a voice that sounded like a body hitting freezing water, like the distant thud in an old house in the smallest hours of the night.
[creepy voice] “You know wheeeree,” the figure said. “You know where I want to goooo.” And he did know.
“I want to go – hoooooome.”

And he held the wheel tighter, and he pressed the gas harder, and he stared unblinkingly at the door because he knew that the figure’s face was only inches away now, and staring directly at him.

Oh, listen to me yammer on! Haha. You know, I should really get to some of the other business of community radio, or Station Management will [chuckling] just kill me. [long beat] At least I hope that’s all they’ll do to me.

The rest of this ghost story soon.

5. Tamika Flynn

Cecil: But now I have a really special guest in the studio today, who has their own ghost story to tell. She is one of our community’s most active young people, having formed a militia to keep our town safe from corporations and librarians, oh – and she is also an avid reader. So please welcome to the show – Tamika Flynn! Hi Tamika!

Tamika: Hi Cecil. [chuckles]

Cecil: You said you have a ghost story that you wanna share?

Tamika: Yes. I love books so much, and one of my favorite kinds of books is the ghost book.

Cecil: The ghost book? You mean horror novel, yes?

Tamika: You say potato, I say pohtata.

Cecil: You do?

Tamika: Yeah!

Cecil: Pohtata?

Tamika: Pohtata chips, pohtata salad. Pohtata poutine.. [chuckles]

Cecil: But that’s kind of a weird way to say potato.

Tamika: Well I learned English from reading it Cecil, not from listening to it! [chuckles, snorts repeatedly] Anyways. I love ghost stories because they’re so rich with symbolism and meaning. A lot of people think that ghost stories are just a one-note tale about a ghost haunting an old house, but if you look deeper under the surface, ghost stories are really about dead people who are now invisible or translucent beings who interact with the living in antiques homes, so..

Cecil: Very important difference.

Tamika: Would you like to hear my favorite ghost story, Cecil?

Cecil: Oh yes, please!

Tamika: Many years ago, in this very town.. [whispers] there was a librarian! Ooh! And the librarian would creep around the public library, hunting and slaughtering book lovers for sport! Innocent people would go to the library hoping to find a good book, something new and interesting. Maybe a classic of modern science fiction by Octavia Butler, or some surrealist literature by Amy Bender or, oh, maybe some pedantic buzzkill space essays by Neil deGrasse Tyson. [chuckles]

Cecil: Now, wait a minute! To be fair to Neil deGrasse Tyson, his Victorian era romances are really goo-oo-ood!

Tamika: [long beat] Anyways. One day, there was a young girl, a really smart girl. [chuckles] She was also really fit, like REALLY fit! [chuckles] But also smart like the smartest girl you can know. Ahem. And also really tough. Anyways, she went to the library to get a book, and just as she was perusing a collection of plays by the 17th century poet and spy Aphra Behn, she could smell something terrible, like an infection, like wet fur. It was humid suddenly, and she felt something watching her, slithering about just over her shoulder.

But this girl, she was fast too. She jumped to the side quickly just as a spiked tentacle came crashing down next to her, crushing the shelf containing play scripts by Pulitzer winner Annie Baker. Without thinking, the girl – she was also intuitive, like [whispers] soo intuitive! [chuckles] – she grabbed the tentacle before it could retract into the librarian’s protective shell. She then grabbed a copy of the “Complete Works of William Shakespeare” by Francis Bacon. It was the special edition that had the machete taped right there on the book jacket! [chuckles] She tore off the large knife and swung, striking the tentacle at its base. She swung again, landing an accurate blow between the soft small crevice and the hard skin. This girl was amaaaaziiiiing! The librarian shrieked, then with a double back flip – which was pretty easy for this girl… she narrowly avoided the splattering acid blood of the flailing creature and dealt a mortal blow right to its disgusting neck! She didn’t even need a blade to finish off the monster, she just used her fist! Splat! Pffffff! [breathes heavily] True story of the badass book loving girl there ever was! [chuckles]

Cecil: So this is a story about you, right? And how you defeated the librarian during the Summer Reading Program a few years back?

Tamika: Oh no. That story was about my best friend Jessica Littleton. She’s so smart and talented, [high-pitched] I just love her, she’s the best!

Cecil: OK Tamika, while I hate to nitpick, that was a really great story but that was like, [hoarsely] monster story, not like a ghoooo-oooost story.

Tamika: Well. Jessica jacked up that monster and now it’s a ghost, boom, ghost story! Well I gotta go do my math homework, and then we have the teen militia meeting this evening at the new skating rink, so bye Cecil! [chuckles]

Cecil: Bye, thank you Tamika!

6. Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner

It’s time for another edition of the Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner!

Did you know that time travel exists? OK well not yet, but we have learned from time travelers that it will be invented in just under 30 years. Now given that knowledge, I thought it’d be kind of fun to do a little experiment together, so. If you are legally allowed to own a smartphone, take that out now and open up that calendar application. No go ahead, don’t be shy!

Now what I want you to do is create a recurring event that starts on this exact day and time, and title that event, well, “travel back in time”. Ooh, and be sure to note your exact location, OK? Now, when you’ve done that, set that event to recur every year on this anniversary. That way, when your future self does eventually have access to a time machine, they’ll know to come back to this. very. Moment. And then once you’ve done all of that, hit “save” and your future self should appear immediately right in front of you!

OK, so do you see your future self? Alright, well you may have to look around just like a little tiny bit. Hold on, hold on. Do none of you see your future selves? Uh oooh…

[long silence]

Well, this has been the Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner!

7. Teddy Williams

Cecil: Now, a look at the Community Calendar. So let’s start off with an event that is happening today. To get in on the annual ghost story contest, Teddy Williams, owner of the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex, announced that he will be offering 20 per cent off admission and double game tokens for anyone who dresses up like a deceased ancestor, historical figure, or departed pet.

We have Teddy in the studio with us now to talk about some of the themed activity going on at the fun complex. Teddy?

Teddy Williams: Hello, Cecil.

Cecil: Hello.

TW: We are really getting into this ghost stories festival over at the Desert Flower today and we wanted to celebrate the spirit of the event [chuckles], no pun intended.

Cecil: No pun understood.

TW: OK well we’re getting into the ghost story.. mood. Over in the bowling lanes, we’ll be turning off all of the lights, and as customers try to navigate and stumble around in the dark, our staff will sneak up behind them and shout classic ghost things like “BOOO!” and [hoarsely] “Hello again son, I miss you, it’s so cold here”.

Cecil: Well that sounds like great fun that people will remember not unpleasantly for the rest of their lives.

TW: We hired some pretty expensive lawyers to make sure of that.

Cecil: Now Teddy, you seem to really love this day. Do you have a ghost story you wanna share?

TW: Well, OK sure. As you know we built the new skating rink on top of the old pet cemetery. And there’s this gost cat, a Persian cat. Super cute like you just wanna grab his little flat face and go [high-pitched squeaking] with your own face against his..

Cecil: Awww.

TW:..but you can’t. Because he’s a ghost and so your face just goes through, it’s just.. it’s like rrow, rrow. Anyway, turns out this cat belonged to former town billionaire Marcus Vanston. Marcus of course disappeared one day and no one knows for certain what happened to him..

Cecil: Oh, I-

TW: Or we do know, but none of us are legally allowed to say.

Cecil: Of course, because we can’t legally acknowledge the existence of..

TW: None of us are legally allowed to say Cecil, it could have been anything.

Cecil: Yeah of course. [whispers] Angel.

TW: So this ghost cat belonged to Marcus, and Marcus was so rich that he had taught the cat French.

Cecil: Ooh.

TW: Yeah. Now I myself don’t speak French, but I do have a Russian dictionary, and I feel like both languages are so dissimilar form English that they must be similar to each other.

Cecil: That’s an excellent point.

TW: Right? Anyway, the cat told me that his name is Peanut, and that he died of sorrow when his master, whom he loved so much, passed from this earth and left him alone in their vast palazzo. That as a cat, he cannot cry, so he simply shivered with sadness by himself under the basement stairs every night, until his body wasted away into such a thin whisp that the wings of death could easily and sweetly carry him off to be with his owner once again. But he has yet to reunite with Marcus and so now he has only lonely immortality and no conceivable escape.

Cecil: That’s heartbreaking!

TW: Yeah. So then I told him, [excitedly] “My name is Teddy, and I love video games!”

Cecil: Oh.

TW: [laughing] I tried to feed him one of those little fish treats. It just fell right through his… He’s forever hungry and he can never eat! Ooo, anyway. So I’ve been trying to learn Russian better so that we can speak in French.

Cecil: Sure, yeah.

TW: And he’s been coming around more often saying something that, okay sounds a little bit like “Je suis triste”, “Je suis mort”. Which I figured out means, “Hey Teddy, it’s great to see you!”

Cecil: Umm, now it’s been a moment since my French brainwashing in high school, but I’m pretty sure that “Je suis mort” means..

TW: “Great to see you” yeah, I know Cecil. Alright well, I gotta get back to the complex and I hope to see everyone out there. Now don’t forget that it’s happy hour from four to six at our bar. If you can be happy for those two straight hours, you get three-dollar draft beers and well drinks. So far, no one has been able to do it. Well, je suis mort, Cecil! Ha ha!

Cecil: Aha, thank you Teddy! [whimpering] Oh, Peanut!

8. Steve Carlsberg

More on the Community Calendar.

So listeners, I love ghost stories because they are so disturbing, but. Within the safety of a fictional narrative. Unlike my brother-in-law Steve, who just showed up uninvited to my studio and is disturbing in real life.

Steve Carlsberg: Well, now Cecil, you asked me to come up to the station to tell my ghost story!

Cecil: What, I did? Wait, why would I do that? Is that the kind of thing that – oh yeah I do remember (–) doing that. Well, go on with your story, Steve.

SC: Okey-dokey. [clears throat] Down by the old railroad tracks, on the eastern edge of town, it is said that if you go there just after dusk, you can see the ghoooooooost childrenn!

Cecil: Alright, well, we should go now, you know. Lead the way, Steve, and all of us will be right behind you, eventually.

SC: OK. Many decades ago, a school bus full of children stalled on those train tracks. The driver – whose name was Mab – tried to stop the engine, but it just kept grinding and grinding. There was noo moon! See, this was before the moon was invented by NASA scientists. Remember I told you?

Cecil: [mumbles]

SC: Alright. Mab probably didn’t know she’d stalled on the tracks, she just kept trying to restart the engine, to nooo avail. Suddenly there was a loud horn and a deep, rhythmic rumble from below them, as the tracks trembled!

Then, in the darkness, came a light. A single yellow glow, small and distant. The light was growing, as the sound of the horn and the rumble of the tracks crescendoed. The children spotted it first. [funny voices] “It’s the sun!” one of them called. “No, it’s a lightning bear!” called another.

Mab kept trying to start the bus, the horn of the train boomed, the tracks below the bus barked and rattled, and the light was so big, moving so fast, and the kids screamed “Traaaaaiiiin! It’s a traaaaa-a-a-a-aiin!” And then they all cheered because they love trains, hahaha! And then they all watched the train pass, clapping and laughing the whole time because hey, they got to see a train! [chuckles]

Cecil: So wait, the train didn’t even hit the bus?

SC: No no no no, see, turns out the vibration of the tracks had made the bus roll over them. A near miss, whew! Well, Mab called the Bus Barn and AAA and everyone got home safe and sound. But. It is said that out at the old train tracks, just after the dusk, on a night where there is no moon, if you put some powder on the trunk of your car and stop on the train tracks, your car will begin to move slowly off the tracks, without you touching the gas pedal. And then, if you check the outside of your car, you will see a series of small handprints on the powder! The ghosts of those children who were on that stalled bus so many years ago will push your vehicle to safety!

Cecil: But those kids didn’t die, I don’t understand how they, like how are they ghosts?

SC: It happened 70 years ago, Cecil, I’m pretty sure most of those kids are ghosts by now.

Cecil: I mean, are you leaving the car in drive, because then it’ll just move on its own without you having to press the gas. Oh and plus, those handprints are probably just your own handprints that form as the powder absorbs the oils that were already there.

SC: Sounds like you’re too chicken to go out on the old train tracks..

Cecil: Ugh.

SC: ..and see the ghost hands of ghost children who all died after bearing on that stalled bus!

Cecil: Yeah, from natural causes, yeears later!

SC: Which is all after they were on the stalled bus! Who-o-o-ooo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo, spookyy, spookyy! Do you need a hug?

Cecil: No. [beat] OK Steve. [sighs]

SC: Look, it’s very scary, OK? It’s not just the handprints, but if you get there too long after dusk, the sky will be mostly void. You’ll stare into that infinite maw, sizing yourself down and down, until you understand that you are a fleck, a speck, a nothing nobody loser, who will be gone and not missed. Even the stars, for all their mass and might, are replaceable dots, soundless and similar. Even a ball of nuclear explosions, 2000 times the size of our own Earth, and which will burn mighty for millions and billions of years, is an indistinguishable blip that most can’t even name. What is the use of any of this?

Cecil: OK, now I’m actually scared.

SC: [breathes heavily] So yeah, make sure you show up at the exact right time [chuckling] to see those handprints, OK?

Cecil: OK. You’re done talking now?

SC: Yeah.

Cecil: OK, great. So listeners, we now continue with our Com- OK Steve, you gotta, you gotta go.

SC: Yeah, one hug.

Cecil: No oh geez, alright, fine.

SC: Oh there it is! Ah, we did it! Ah, I’m so scared, it’s so spooky! [chuckles] You’ll need another hug later on, (big guy).

Cecil: Alright. [sarcastically] Thank you Steve.

9. The Community Calendar

Where was I? Friday morning, the wooooop will be whoooooaaa and then later, ah ah a-a-a haha, if you catch my meaning, hahaha! [beat] Oh yes, that was probably very confusing for the radio, so. Friday morning there will be nuclear arms testing just along the canyon east of Route 800. Please remember to take shelter inside your car or under a very sturdy table. As lovable cartoon character, Andy the Atom, always screams: “A nuclear bomb is probably more afraid of you than you are of it!”

Saturday night is Night Vale high school’s annual prom. Afterwards there will be a casino-themed lock-in party. Now this is to encourage kids to stay in one place together, having fun with friends, and not being out on the streets drinking and driving. It is also to encourage kids to gamble. Some of the fun casino games featured will be lottery scratch-off tickets, Three Card Monte, and trust falls.

Monday is the day that Nostradamus told us would happen. [long beat] You know, Jeremy Nostradamus told us that this particular Monday would happen and listeners, Monday is indeed happeniiiiing-ah.

Tuesday evening at 7 PM, the Night Vale school board will be holding a hearing to discuss whether or not testing helps measure children’s abilities, or whether it’s already pretty obvious that the electrified maze is just like totally unbeatable. This hearing is open to the public.

This Wednesday will be re-experiencing last Wednesday. I mean, last Wednesday was just so much fun, we are gonna repeat it over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over… [mumbles] and over.

10. Ghost Story #2

Back to a ghost story, already in progress.

[dramatically] It was ten years ago, on a night just like tonight. Here was a man driving down a dark road. No other cars. Where are all the other cars? Where are all the living people in the dead of night, I don’t know.

And this, the anniversary of the burning of the oooooold mill, in which a young woman had died horribly, by fire. And here beside him, a passenger with a strange voice asking him as the woman would ask all doomed innocents that stopped for her to take… her… home.

“Oh you [clears throat], you want to go home?” the man said. “Yeah sure, sure. Umm, where is home?”
[growling] “I will give you directionsss,” the stiff dead throat of the figure rasped, and a hand touched his shoulder. He could just see it. Flesh and bone? Maybe. Meat and (symmetry), perhaps. But that does not make a thing human. And he knew from the stories that those who followed the directions of the woman from the mill would find themselves taking narrow, shaded lines, winding downwards and downwards, to a destination and hollow as the pupil of a dead eye.

“Oh sure, well I’m heading into town myself,” the man said, grasping for any kind of human conversation. “Well maybe I can drop you off somewhere – close to home, like the Moonlite All-Nite Diner or Mission Grove Park?”
[growling] “No! Take. Me. Home!”

And before he could stop himself, the man turned and met her eyes, and the man saw, the man saw her face crearly.
Stop. Stop right now. I want you all right now to close your eyes. Close your eyes and imagine – trench warfare. Imagine bodies writhing out of holes in the ground to die in muddy no man’s land. Imagine a plane in a thunderstorm where the whole of the universe becomes nothing but lightning and quake.

Imagine closing yourself into your bedroom at night and seeing the shadow imprints of your eyelids after you’ve closed the door. A hunched figure at the end of the hall, flopping around on the floor, in a sheet and muling.

Imagine pulling into your driveway in the dead of night and seeing, you think – but did you? – a grey face with a crude smile peeking from your bedroom window.
Imagine being home alone in the middle of a vast nowhere. [click] And the power goes out. And it’s a long, long night until sunrise. Be quiet for just a few moments, and imagine all of this.

Now imagine the face of the woman in the car. Yes. Yes. That is it. Exactly that.
[growling] “Tuuuuurn heeeere,” she said, incdicating a dark narrow side road, its pavement cracked and buckling, a side road he had never seen before.
[increasingly scary voice] “Tuuuuuurn heeeere, take meee hoooooooooommmmme”.
And without knowing why he did it, or where the path would lead, he turned down that side road and left the main road behind.

11. A Public Service Annoucement

The finale of my story coming up. But first, a public service announcement.

After a few recent wildfires, the Night Vale Fire Department would like to remind our listeners about fire safety. They began a new campaign to help parents talk to their kids about this important civic issue. The campaign is called “Your Treachery Has Been Noted”. And the mascot is this adorable cartoon vulture with a camera for a face.

Fire chief Ramona Incarna(-) that it’s important for parents to teach their kids about the three R:s of fire prevention: relent, renounce, repent! She said that most common house fires and wildfires are started by your kids. And here she pointed straight at you! And then she said, “Those children came from your body!”

And then she retched. Sorry.

As part of the campaign, the Fire Department issued a pamphlet to help parents with the education business. Now this pamphlet is adorned with colorful drawings of pyramids and floating eyes, you know, to make it more relatable to teens. And these pamphlets will be distributed to all Night Vale Public School students via repeating audio loops while they sleep.

12. Pamela Winchell

So, because the ghost stories competition is such an important event in our town, Night Vale’s Mayor has sent her Director of Emergency Press Conferences, Pamela Winchell, here to deliver an emergency press conference. So please welcome Pamela Winchell!

Pamela Winchell: Hello, Cecil! Hello, people of Night Vale! Hello, people or whatever of space, who are receiving this long-ago podcast millions of light years away, millions of years in the future. Hello, mutant hollow-eyed child in the dark corner of the radio studio!

Cecil: Oh my god! What.. But..

PW: He’s cute right?

Cecil: I ha- I have never noticed him before. [long beat] [whispers] Pamela!

PW: [whispers] Yes?

Cecil: [whispers] He’s staring right at me!

PW: [whispers] That’s what he does!

Cecil: [whispers] He’s horrifying! Is he a ghost?

PW: [normal voice] You can tell by his grey complexion and glowing yellow eyes and complete lack of facial expression, he is not a ghost. That, my friend, is one of the undead hollow-eyed messanger children from City Council.

Cecil: How long has he been here?

PW: Probably since the last time City Council issued a press release.

Cecil: But that was like a month ago!

PW: Well you answered your own question there, didn’t ya? Cecil, you are supposed to send the undead messenger children home when you’re done with them. If you don’t, they’ll just hang around in the dark watching you all slack-faced. I mean, kids are innocent but they aren’t very smart!

Cecil: So he won’t like hurt me, right?

PW: [singsong] I never said that!

Cecil: [laughing hysterically] Aahahaa, hahaha, he-hey there little guy! What’s your name?

[music]

PW: Oh, that was my grandfather’s middle name! [chuckles]

Cecil: How do you even spell that?

PW: Oh, B-U-M-P-F-B-U-M-B-F-F-F-G-G-G-W-silent Q. It’s Welsh. Also, my grandfather was a bird. He is no longer with us.

Cecil: Oh, I’m so sorry for you loss.

PW: What? Why?

Cecil: I mean your grandfather passing away and..

PW: It was just a bird. Calm down, Cecil. Anyway, the Mayor sent me to do an emergency press conference about ghosts.

Cecil: Excellent, go right ahead.

PW: Quiet over there, kid, I’m talking.

People of Night Vale. There is a certain rock in the desert. The rock is cone-shaped, perfectly smooth and inverted, balancing precariously on its point. If you stand in the long shadow of the rock, you can see the entire universe in the midday sky. Stars you have never seen before, every. single. star. Constellation spinning out great and terrible forgings. You will understand that history is a myth, and humanity a fever dream, and you will also hear a very dull hum. Really dull. I got bored like 30 seconds into it. [sighs]

But the rock is really cool, OK? It is stone, white and carved into it is the entire text of Gillian Flynn’s best-selling thriller “Gone Girl”. The words are printed upside down and in Latin. Now, no one in Night Vale knows Latin, the only books on it are in the library and there’s no way any of us is going there. So I’m just assuming that it is “Gone Girl” because while I never have read the book, I’ve definitely seen the movie and it’s awesome. I’m not sure why they called movie “Furious 7” instead of “Gone Girl”, but it was really really good! So I’m just gonna say that’s a Latin translation of “Gone Girl” on the rock and not some ancient curse of rare religious relic.

Cecil: OK, is there a ghost anywhere in this story?

PW: I don’t have to say that there is a ghost in a story for there to be a ghost in a story, Cecil. Like 16 billion people have died since the lizard people first invented humans. Ghosts are everywhere, all the time! I mean, I mentioned a desert, do you need me to say that there is sand there too, or cacti, or shirtless 20-year-olds burning a giant effigy and buying 8-dollar bottles of water from corporate sponsors? Of course those things are there, it’s a desert! [sighs]

Cecil: So I’ve never seen this rock, but I’m actually really interested because I loved that movie too. I actually like the book just a little bit better. I’m actually not sure why they called the book “Ms. Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs”, but it was still really good. So where can I go to get a look at this fascinating rock?

PW: I ate it.

Cecil: What- you what?!

PW: I. Ate. It. It wasn’t good, I mean I liked the movie way better than I liked the stone, the stone is terrible, ugh. I haven’t been able to use the restroom in weeks.

Cecil: Ugh.

PW: Really turned me off ever reading Gillian Flynn. Anyway kid, you wanna go back to City Hall? Alright, cool. I’ll give you a ride, just hop on this horse with me and let’s go.

Cecil: Oh wow, I just now noticed that you were sitting atop a horse.

PW: Sure am. See you, Cecil! YAAAAOW!

Cecil: Oh, oh..

13. Ghost Story #3

Cecil: The finale of my ghost story.
It was ten yeears agoo, on a night just like tonight. The man and his passenger drove through a road that cut through the low branches of the forest. You know, the (dry) of the desert, trees take strange forms. They writhe and loom, their shape a history of their tortured growth.

“Keep going,” the figure rasped.
“Yeah I know the way,” the man said, and he did. Because the road, like this story, leads to only one place. A dark and secret place, from which no one ever returns.
“Do you know why I was in that mill when it burned?”
He did not.
“It was because I loved that mill, and I couldn’t let it go alone. Where were you, Cecil? Where were you when that mill burned down?”
“I dunno, I was, I was at work,” the man said. “I I I didn’t know it would burn down that day. I mean, I guess a part of me thought that nothing burns down and everything is forever.”
“Old mills burn, Cecil. That’s what they do.”
“I know I’m just I’m I’m trying to say I’m sorry that I wasn’t there.”
“It’s OK. You’re here noow!”
And the car reached the end of its road, the asphalt giving way to thick bramble. And the bramble rose and fell, like it was the hair on the back of a huge breathing (animal) and above them, the mill burned. It took up the whole sky. The whole night sky seemed like it was on fire, and the man, hardly able to breathe through this terror, turned and he met the face of the woman and she turned back to him and he saw, he saw the face of the woman clearly, and her face was gone. And in its place was the face that the fire had given her. And her lips opened into what would have been laughter, and she reached for him with what would have been her hand!

[quiet speech] Listeners… I’ve been lying to you. Or not lying, I’m sorry, but what’s the word for when you tell someone a fiction that you would like them believe about you, whatever that is but listen I can’t go on doing that, I need to tell you the truth. And I will. Coming up. The real story, the… the true ghost story that I have been trying to tell you. But first, the weather.

15. Epilogue

This is the true story. It is also a ghost story.

Ten years ago, on a night just like tonight, a man was driving down a dark road, a man who defines himself much of the time as a radio host. But on this night, he was just a driver. And he saw a figure ahead, on the side of the road, a brief pause in a long fog. But he knew exactly who it was, and he took five seconds to collect himself.

And he let her in. Because he know on this very stretch of road, one year to the day before that day that was ten years ago on a night just like tonight, a woman died. Oh, not the woman by the side of the road, she was still alive. Or she IS still alive. The woman who died was an old woman.

And this old woman did not die in a mill fire, there are no old mills in Night Vale, it had just been this woman’s time to go. And this way of passing was mundane. The way that death always is. But still. He mourned the loss of what had been a part of his life.

“Where you headed?” he said. And the woman from the side of the road spoke in a voice that sounded like – a normal voice, like anyone’s voice.
“You know where,” it said. “You know where I want to go.”
And he did know, because well, she called him and told him where she wanted to go.
“I want to go home,” she said.
And he looked into her eyes and he saw the familiar face – of his older sister, Abby. She looked tired because she, too, had been thinking about that woman who had died. Because before that old woman had been just a memory. She’d been their mother. The unveiling of the gravestone had been that day and… There were stories to tell. Too many stories, and the weight of them started to seem physical. And now this, her car breaking down on the side of the road?

“The service was nice,” she said. “I think Mom would have…” she said.
“Yeah um, yeah. Mom would have,” he said.

See, my mother disappeared when I was only 14. Abby had just started school, but she had to drop out to return home and raise me, and I thought that Mom would be back at any moment, like maybe she was away on business. Our out for a walk. Or just hiding.

But Mom did not come back, not for my entire childhood. And I was petulant and subversive, and Abby was reserved and controlling and she blamed me for having dropped out of school and I blamed her for just… not being Mom.

But in our adulthood, my mother did return home, sick and sorry to two children who barely spoke to each other in the morning. But we came back together to be with her and Mom… [softly] She looked older than she was. And her face – was gone. And in its place was the face that time had given her. She’s lost many battles to herself. Alcohol, debt, and lack of treatment or even awareness of a mental illness.

See, some creatures have claws, and and and and some have have pincers and and and some have venom, but some creatures have wings. And Mom flew away, when all other defenses failed her. But still, Abby and I started talking to each other, once again, trying to heal ourselves and navigating that dark and narrow path of forgiveness. And then a few months later – Mom left us again. This time for good. And a year after that on a night just like tonight, a man drove his sister home. And she gets out of the car, and and and she goes into her house, and and and he drives away, it’s it’s simple it’s this, then this, then this, then this, then this.

You see, the reality of ghost stories is that they would be comforting, not scary, if they were true like reassuring proof that we go on, after the after. Or a chance to speak with someone that we will never be able to speak with again, but instead we live in a story about us, and about our relationships, and about our families, and the choices of our families going back and back and back. And this story in the same way that a ghost story is scary because it is – unresolved. And filled with symbolism that we just don’t understand.

And family history, after all, is just another kind of ghost story. So ten years ago, on a night just like tonight, when the fog lay heavy on the lowlands, a man drove his sister home. And eleven years on a night just like tonight, their mother died, and it didn’t –mean- anything, but it happened. And the sister stood by and watched it happen and the brother, talked on the radio and didn’t even know that it had happened until afterwards, and there was nothing that they could have done. But still they regretted everything they didn’t do, and when she called to tell him what had happened, they were both silent for ten. full. seconds.

[sighing] [long beat] Thirty years ago, on a night just like tonight I, I tripped on this wire, here at the radio station, and now sometimes I can still feel it. Fifty years ago on a night just like tonight, a baby was born. Oh, no one important to this story, babies are always being born. A hundred years ago there was a war, or not, you know, a hundred years ago exactly but more or less a hundred years ago on a night just like tonight, there was a war. On a night just like tonight 300 years ago, a woman picked up a handful of grass on a sunny day and realized she was not living the life that she wanted to live. She was not sure why she picked up that handful of grass, she was not sure why she did that either. On a night just like tonight 600 years ago, feudalism. [long beat] I think. I’m actually not quite sure when feudalism was.

Oh, a 1,000 years ago on a night just like tonight, a man had the best pear he would ever have. But he didn’t know it at the time, he just thought, “Wow, this is a really good pear. 1,002 years ago on a night nothing like tonight, the same man would have the worst pear he would ever have. Oh, but he knew it at the time, he was like, “Agh, this is a terrible pear!” 3,000 years ago on a night just like tonight, people scraped in the dirt for food or they looked for it in trees or, they reached their hands into water and came out clutching what they found there, which in essence was another day of life, and they took that, wriggling, into their bodies and consumed it. 22,000 years ago on a night just like tonight – trees. That one I’m entirely sure of. There were a lot of trees then. And now but then, more of them now. 103,000 years ago on a night just like tonight, a child felt very bad about something that he had one, but not knowing how to make up for it, he ran away. But then having nowhere else to go, he returned home the next day to a family that had already forgiven him. 100 million years ago on a night just like tonight, there was (-) and stars and accidental beauty that would not be described as beauty for millions of years, and colors that were not colors just yet, just a different type of light.

And millions of years later, a man would drive his sister home because he loved her, and because it was their story to tell, they were living in a ghost story that did not have the comfort of fear, but merely a dull ache and tangle, at the heart of it. And millions of years before that, a volcano erupted and for just one moment, it looked like a fountain of jewels, but no one was around to see it happen. And hundreds of millions of years later, there would be babies born at every moment and everyone would see everything happening and it would always be so loud, but millions upon millions of years ago, before ghost stories, before even stories, it was quiet sometimes, sometimes it was quiet for a long time. Hundreds of millions of years ago it was very, very quiet for a very long time.

[long silence] And then of course, there was small talk. Laughter and love. Love of every kind. And getting to sit next to your sister, watching her daughter, your niece, in her first ever ballet fight. Feeling – lucky to be haunted by the family that you have. Huh. Well. That’s my story submission.

And it looks like I got it in just in time, as the City Council indicates that the ghost story competition is coming to a close, and they will announce their dinner very soon. Win-winner! Winner! They will announce the winner very soon, that’s yeah mm hm, yeah.

Stay tuned next for that uncertain moment of silence between the last word spoken and the first applause. And from a night that is so much like tonight, as to almost be – indistinguishable.

Good night,
Night Vale,
Good night.

[applause]

Meg Bashwiner: Welcome to Night Vale is a production of Night Vale Presents. It is written by Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor with original music by Disparition. [applause]