106 - Filings

Here's something I say a lot, but it's just the truth.

We couldn't make this show without our Patreon.

It is by far the biggest way we are able to pay everyone working on the show, from the writers to the actors, to Jessica, who does original artwork for every single episode, to Joella, who does all the back-end business stuff.

All of these people are able to pay their bills, and we are all able to put out the show because of our Patreon.

And we try to give some cool rewards as a thank you.

Four bonus episodes a year that are not released on the main feed, ad-free versions of our episodes, monthly Zoom hangouts with the Nightfall Writers, director's notes on every episode, a brand new book club we are launching led by the Nightfall Writers, and even the chance for you to appear in future Nightfall episodes as a character.

So, all of that is there, but also just the knowledge that this thing exists in the world that otherwise wouldn't, and you are part of that.

So, consider heading to welcometonightvale.com and clicking on Patreon and becoming a patron or upgrading your existing membership.

We deeply, truly appreciate it.

Thank you.

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Why do birds suddenly appear

every time you are near?

Tell me more about your special bird powers.

Welcome to Nightfale.

It's been a long couple of weeks as the citywide emergency sirens that signal illegal public acknowledgement of angels have been blaring almost non-stop.

But, in spite of these archaic laws, I've been shouting, you're an angel, at beings who look like angels and then making my most friendly finger-pointing gesture.

The beings who call themselves angels because

that's what they are, have begun filing the paperwork for official existence.

The angels are still at the hall of public records downtown waiting in line.

They have made it to the front of the line three different times, but each time they were told they were missing a key form of ID or pre-application paperwork or that the cameras could not record their image.

They weren't told this using words.

The records hall clerk just stabbed their paperwork repeatedly with scissors and then got a massive nosebleed.

which is how they know their application was declined.

Other citizens waiting have grown restless.

As they do not acknowledge the existence of angels, the next person in line keeps walking up to a seemingly empty window only to be brushed away by a clerk or an angel.

These citizens have begun shouting and grumbling and curling into little balls and sobbing as large glowing cracks appear in the ceiling It's been several days of waiting in line for the angels.

We'll check back in on them soon.

Oh, I have a new intern, listeners.

He's a fine-looking young man with a beautiful voice.

I think he'll have a great future in radio.

I've been trying to ask him his name or who hired him.

I certainly don't remember beginning the search for a new intern.

He just appeared this morning and started working without a single word.

which is the most professional behavior for anyone beginning a new job.

Well, he seems seems hard at work.

Even if every time I address him he doesn't notice me, it's great having a competent replacement for Karim.

Even if I have no idea how this new intern got here or who he is.

As long as the filing is getting done.

Alandra Ortiz, daughter of Josefina Ortiz, who passed away last month, has carried on her fight against the Angels.

The Angels are claiming ownership of Old Woman Josie's estate, since they live with her and helped her build the many artistic monuments and cultural foundations around town.

Alondra said she doesn't care if angels are acknowledged or not.

If they want to be recognized, fine.

But Alondra and her lawyer, Emilio Tavarez, have filed motions to maintain ownership of Alondra's mother's home, belongings, money, and memories.

Just because a bunch of imaginary tall people with with wings helped Josie change the light bulbs from time to time, Tavarez said, that's no reason they are considered next of kin.

Tavarez told Judge Siobhan Asdak, if they don't exist, you must get kissed.

Judge Azdak replied, Emilio, it's been four years.

I'm remarried.

We're done, okay?

The Angels have hired five-headed dragon Miriam Edelman as their counsel, who issued a literally scathing response.

Alondra is now suing Edelman and her team for medical bills resulting from second-degree burns.

Alondra has already put Josie's home up for sale.

She is willing to offer rebates for pre-existing damage, such as a series of large, glowing slits in the walls that lead to rooms that aren't possible according to the official floor plan nor the laws of physics.

These rooms range from a 17th century ballroom to a crow's nest on a modern Navy destroyer to the space shuttle.

Plus, anachronistic people keep wandering in and out of these portals.

She added, On second thought, since the house has more usable square footage than originally anticipated, and because there appear to be current renters, she's raising the sale price.

So, I just sent my new intern to go pick up some lunch.

Or at least I said, Excuse me, young man, whose name I don't know yet, who I only think works here.

Can you go grab me a cob salad with extra whipped cream and pencil shavings from the missing frog salad bar?

He didn't say yes, nor did he ever seem to see or hear me, but he did look really frightened and ran from the room crying, which was such a polite and respectful gesture to his superior.

What a nice young man.

Dress is kind of weird, though.

So early 80s, with his double Windsor striped tie, polyester coat, and aviator goggles, just like we all wore back in the day.

I supposed most things eventually come back in fashion.

Well, I can only assume he heard my lunch order.

I'm starving.

You're starving?

Try not having a mouth.

Oh my god, you scared me.

Uh listeners, we have an unplanned visit from the faceless old woman who secretly lives in your home.

Or I guess in this case, your radio studio while you're still on the air.

Cecil, we need to talk about the distant prince.

Few dare to speak of him so as not to draw his attention.

What do you know?

His harbingers are here.

They are prepared to announce his arrival with their long, toothy beaks.

Their stomach eyes see all.

They've been rehearsing this announcement in their room at the Hampton Inn on Route 800.

They've been writing and rewriting their grand pronouncement and teaching it to the court shriekers to shriek out to all of Nightvale.

What does that mean?

What?

Shriek?

It's like a painful yell.

Like this.

Meanwhile, the mangled servants are gathering the ears of important Nightvale politicians.

Gross.

Right?

And they will sew the ears onto the walls of the Hampton Inn Continental Breakfast Bar and use them as portals into many dimensions at once.

Their plan is to destroy time itself and collapse Night Vale into a dense singularity.

Why do they want to do this?

It was suggested to him by a nice young woman from out of town.

What young woman?

She

she

the woman from Italy brings fun and jest, consuming all souls until none are left.

Distant prince and she planned a terrible plot, destroying all that is until all is not.

I met her in dreams and found a dear friend, a woman a mortal mind can't comprehend.

No god controls her, no physics can hold her.

She'll set the world afire, but leave you all colder.

Yeah, she and I are best friends now.

She's a lot of fun, really good poet.

I gotta go.

Steve Carlsberg is back home, and I want to stand behind him in the mirror when he bends down to wash his face.

His shrieks are the funniest.

Dumb old Steve.

Be nice, okay?

We are getting reports that a dense fog is now pouring from a giant glowing slash in the sky above the rec center.

Some pteranodons have flown out of it, as well as a commercial airliner, and those who enter the fog reported hearing shouts, blood-curdling screams, and even the echo of drums.

But there's also the Battle of the Bands soundcheck happening right now at the rec center, so it's probably just that.

Either way, Keep a close eye out for these apparent tears in the fabric of our reality.

Also, go check out the Battle of the Bands.

I think Diane Creighton's son, Josh, and his boyfriend Grant are organizing that event.

And now a word from our sponsors.

Today's show is brought to you by a gray pigeon whispering to you from your neighbor's backyard.

The pigeon, his name is Alfonso,

is telling you that you are the one true God,

and that that he wants you to bring it a body part,

a human body part.

Doesn't matter which part.

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Time's almost gone.

The Bible

was wrong.

The pigeon added, suddenly from your right shoulder.

There never was a beginning.

This has been a word from our sponsors.

Reports continue from the last few weeks of people all over Nightvale experiencing false realities.

The most believable visions are those of tall winged beings roaming the streets and asking to borrow 10 bucks.

City Council is issuing daily press releases, claiming the existence of angels is impossible and illegal.

City Council is threatening to no longer speak to anyone who acknowledges the so-called angels.

You are uninvited to our birthday party.

Today's press release reads.

Too bad, there will be karaoke and mini-golf.

Your loss, angel acknowledger.

A series of fissures in reality have begun to open up, revealing truths that should never have existed.

Like the 12th century Scottish castle sitting atop the staples over on Galloway.

Frances Donaldson at the antiques mall reports suddenly knowing how to play the piano, when before she only knew how to play keyboard.

Larry Leroy out on the edge of town came home to find his wife, Crissette, mowing the lawn, but he was never married.

He last saw Crissette in high school, when they were both in the lurching band together.

And fire chief Ramona Incarnassion said she found a rock in the shape of Harry Stiles' liver.

I don't know how Harry is getting by without his liver, Incarnacion said.

Or given how much mud was on this thing, how he was ever getting by with it.

Nightvale, beware the untruths which attempt to dismantle our town.

Stay vigilant.

Read your journals.

Look at your photographs.

Do your best to remember what is real.

Oh man, speaking of real,

I'm real hungry.

I wish my intern would get back soon with my salad.

It's been forever since he...

Oh, wait.

Hmm, he left his wallet behind.

Well, strike one, new intern.

How are you supposed to buy lunch if you don't take any money?

Hope he has some cash in his pockets.

I'm going to be so annoyed if lunch is late.

Ah, this is a pretty nice wallet.

Trifold.

Ooh, photo pages.

Human leather, money clip.

I used to have one just like this.

Maybe let's find out more about you, kiddo.

Let's see.

Bowling league card.

Ooh, I love bowling.

Young Reporters League membership.

Wow.

It's after my own heart.

Photos of him with a young man he could probably be related to.

And is that my...

Who are you?

Wait, where's your driver's license?

Oh, God.

This can't...

This can't be.

Listeners, here...

Just...

Okay, here's the weather while I sort this out.

You tell me I should help myself do what, motherfucker.

What the hell do you want me to do?

I'm floating on an ice cap with three broken fingers and I've never taken second in my life.

I'd sooner sink myself,

plunge into the ocean, and just watch my dreams all melt.

Than feed you in confident melodies.

I'd sooner give it all away and only just give half of me.

It's all another

thing.

Either I'm worth it or not.

Even silent it are full of shit and once I've given all I've got

If there's still not enough for all

to tie the acre to the boat

Well I'll use that rope

And the rest can just float.

Well, I'll use that alone.

And the rest can just float.

I wish we could evaporate.

Leave behind all the greed and the loss and the death we create.

Blowing like my violin,

an empty shell with broken strings.

Warping over time.

Sooner float away.

Life under like a dream.

It could breach our sides, the wind.

Then wake up and die a bit and go to sleep to do it all again.

It's the game, no one can win.

It's all nothing.

Be Either I'm worth it or not.

If there's nothing

for shitting once, I've given all I've got.

If there's still not enough road

to tie the anchor to the boat,

well, I'll use that rope,

and the rest can just float.

Well, I'll use that rope,

and the rest can just flow

myself

myself.

Either worth it or not.

Either I'm stunted off of shit and once I've given all I've got

if there's still not enough road

to tie the anchor anchor to the boat,

well, I'll use that rope

and the risk can just float.

Well, I'll use that rope,

and the risk can just float.

When you look into the shadows, do you ever feel something looking back?

If you're looking for your next great fiction podcast, something dark, immersive, and just a little unsettling, listen to The Void, the new series from Fable and Folly.

It's made for fans of horror, sci-fi, and seriously spooky stories.

In the town of Milton, the darkness isn't just in your head, it's in the woods.

They call it the void, a cursed expanse that surrounds the town and swallows anyone who dares to leave.

But when a strange old man shares a mysterious pamphlet that promises a path through the void, Sam and his friends set off on a journey that unravels everything that they thought they knew about their home.

The void is dark, atmospheric, and relentlessly tense tense with cinematic sound design, a full voice cast, and a haunting musical score.

Think stranger things meet Super 8, but in podcast form.

Search for the void wherever you get your podcasts and step carefully.

The woods are watching.

Hey, it's Jeffrey Kraner with a word from our sponsor.

You're on a desert island, but not a deserted island.

Someone else is there.

Something else is there.

In the water, surrounding you lurks a mythical beast with two large eyes and many long arms.

You're just now hearing of this beast, but you're not afraid because you don't plan to swim, though that water looks nice.

You're good at talking yourself into things, and soon you are in the sea, frolicking and splashing.

You even squeal, thinking you're all alone.

But you forgot what I just said.

You're not alone.

Something wraps itself around you.

It lifts you high in the air, waving you about at dizzying heights.

You look down and see the mythical kraken.

You start to scream, but in its other tentacles are bottles of kraken black spiced rum and kraken gold spiced rum.

I love kraken rum, you say.

It's bold, smooth, and made with a blend of spices.

You high-five the beast as it sets you back down on the island, along with the bottles of kraken rum.

It winks and tells you kraken rum is ideal for Halloween cocktails and disappears back into the dark, briny depths.

Visit the official sponsor of Welcome to Night Vale, Kraken Rum.com to release the Kraken this Halloween.

Copyright 2025, Kraken Rum Company, Kraken Rum.com.

Like the deepest sea, the Kraken should be treated with great respect and responsibility.

My new intern never made it back.

He never left, or maybe

was never here at all.

Or maybe still is here after all these years.

I heard a voice, a familiar, young voice.

Leonard said, if I work hard, maybe I'll be a radio presenter myself someday, said the voice.

I was so frightened, but still, I looked into the washroom, and he was standing in front of a mirror looking right at himself.

I never look into those things, or at least I haven't in a long time.

I think the radio station is fun, he said.

I think the radio station is hidden.

I think the radio station is like a dark planet lit by no sun.

I think, therefore, I soon won't be,

he said.

I wanted to cry out to warn him.

My mother told me to stay away from mirrors, and I knew he was in danger.

I opened my mouth and tried to step into the room, but I could not speak, could not move forward.

I'm looking in a mirror, he said.

The mirror is not covered,

he said.

Stop, don't look into the mirror, I tried to say, but nothing came out of my mouth, only spit and inaudible wheeze.

Tears stung my eyes.

I waved frantically.

Trying to catch his attention.

The flickering movement is just behind me,

he said.

And then he looked right at me in the mirror.

His eyes grew wide and wet.

He said, I.

He said again, I.

And then he choked.

Then he screamed.

Then I screamed.

Only again no sound came out.

He fell to the floor, and for a moment...

I remembered.

I remembered blue lights and blood in my throat and a dark planet lit by no sun and then I forgot it.

Or at least what it looked like or.

Only that it was or never was or still is.

His wallet was no longer in my studio.

His my driver's license was no longer in my hand.

My familiar teenage intern was no longer lying on the ground.

The mirror he was looking into is now shattered into thousands thousands of intersecting cracks like parched desert dirt.

I approached the mirror, hoping to see a face I knew, a young man's face I just barely remember.

But I only saw a multiplicity of me, a man, divided, unrecognizably under razor-sharp lines, and behind me a glowing slash.

in the bathroom wall.

When I turned, the hole in reality was gone.

Only plain grey subway tiles.

I don't know what is real.

Myself as a younger intern, the woman from Italy, these holes in reality, Harry Styles' liver,

Harry Stiles?

Are any of these things real?

One thing I know is real

are the angels.

After hours of waiting in line, their paperwork has been officially filed, with the hall of public records and a hearing date scheduled sometime between the last Friday of this month and the last Friday of 2023.

Night Vale.

Reality is failing us,

and strange forces are gathering:

the distant prince, prince.

The woman from Italy.

The dragons.

Huntokar.

I don't know what we can do to save a failing reality.

I only know

we can make real that which we acknowledge and accept.

Angels are real, Night Vale.

The actuality of people we rarely see or interact with may seem unimportant as fissures in our world threaten to collapse everything we know, but

if you see an angel,

tell them

you see them.

Tell them they are real.

Point at them and shout, you're an angel.

We can only make real what we accept as real.

Tell them, okay?

Good night, Night Vale.

Good night.

Welcome to Night Vale is a production of Night Vale Presents.

It is written by Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Kraner and produced by Joseph Fink.

The voice of Night Vale is Cecil Baldwin.

The voice of the faceless old woman was Mara Wilson.

Original music by Disparition.

All of it can be found at disparition.info or at disparition.bandcamp.com.

This episode's weather was All or Nothing by The Dream Masons.

Find out more at thedreammasons.bandcamp.com.

Comments, questions, email us at info at welcometonightvale.com or follow us on Twitter at Nightvale Radio.

Or open a book to a random page and do whatever it says.

Check out WelcomeTonightvale.com for more information on this show and our other shows, including the new season of Alice Isn't Dead.

And while you're there, consider clicking the donate link.

Help us, help you, to help us help you.

Today's proverb, good things come to those who wait.

Good things come slithering down the unctuous brown stone walls to those who wait alone in the dark pit.

I'm Amy Nicholson, the film critic for the LA Times.

And And I'm Paul Scheer, an actor, writer, and director.

You might know me from the League Veep or my non-eligible for Academy Award role in Twisters.

We love movies, and we come at them from different perspectives.

Yeah, like Amy thinks that, you know, Joe Pesci was miscast in Goodfellas, and I don't.

He's too old.

Let's not forget that Paul thinks that Dude 2 is overrated.

It is.

Anyway, despite this, we come together to host Unspooled, a podcast where we talk about good movies, critical hits, fan fan favorites, must-sees, and in case you missed them.

We're talking Parasite the Home Alone, From Greece to the Dark Knight.

We've done deep dives on popcorn flicks.

We've talked about why Independence Day deserves a second look.

And we've talked about horror movies, some that you've never even heard of, like Kanja and Hess.

So if you love movies like we do, come along on our cinematic adventure.

Listen to Unspooled wherever you get your podcasts.

And don't forget to hit the follow button.

Hey, y'all, it is Jeffrey Kraner speaking to you from the year 2025.

And did you know that Welcome to Night Vale is back out on tour?

We are.

We're going to be up in the northeast, in the Boston, New York City area, going all the way over to the upper Midwest in Minnesota.

That's in July.

You kind of draw a line through there and you'll kind of see the towns we'll be hitting.

We'll also be doing Philly down to Florida in September.

And we'll be going from Austin all the way up through the middle of the country into Toronto, Canada in October.

And then we'll be doing the West Coast plus the Southwest plus Colorado in January of 2026.

You can find all of the show dates at welcome to nightvale.com slash live.

Listen, this brand new live show is so much fun.

It is called Murder Night in Blood Forest, and it stars Cecil Baldwin, of course, Symphony Sanders, me, and live original music by Disparition, and who knows what other special guests may come along for the ride.

These tours are always so much fun.

fun and they are for you the diehard fan and you the nightvale new kid alike so feel comfortable bringing your family, your partner, your co-workers, your cat, whatever.

They don't got to know what a night veil is to like the show.

Tickets to all of these live shows are on sale now at welcometonightvale.com/slash live.

Don't let time slip away and miss us when we are in your town because otherwise we will all be sad.

Get your tickets to our live U.S.

plus Toronto tours right now at welcome to nightvale.com/slash live.

And hey,

see you soon.