70B - Review

Did you know that Nightfall is not just a podcast, it's also books?

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It's like movies for your ears, but in written word form.

We have four script collections that are fully illustrated with behind-the-scenes intros for every single episode.

And then we have three novels.

The first Welcome to Nightfall novel, in which two women have their lives turned upside down by a mysterious man in a tan jacket.

We reveal the origin of that, the man man in the tan jacket in that one.

Then the New York Times best-selling thriller, It Devours, in which we really try to get to the bottom of a certain smiling god.

Finally, my favorite, the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives in Your Home.

Part Pirate Adventure, Part Haunted House, all Faceless Old Woman.

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If you love something, set it free.

If it doesn't come back, it probably died of sadness because it thought you loved it.

Welcome to Night Vale.

It's difficult to say goodbye to your hometown.

Difficult indeed.

We'll get to all of that soon, but first we bring you the item of, I'm sure, most interest to all of you.

A review of last night's opera.

The inaugural performance of the new Old Night Vale Opera House.

A tribute to the building which once stood proudly in this town for decades.

Before succumbing 20 years ago to an unchecked puppy infestation.

The new old opera house is luxurious and stylish.

I had no idea what opera was until last night, so my expectations for the building were pretty low.

I mean, I don't know what you think opera is.

I was expecting something like fenced-in yards full of filthy straw occupied by hundreds of heavily drugged wolves.

But it turns out that opera houses look nothing like petting zoos.

This place had a chandelier and velvet seats and lush red curtains and a snack bar and people wearing just the fanciest clothes you could imagine.

Tuxedos and ball gowns and balaclavas and shin guards.

Old Woman Josie and all of her tall winged friends who go by the name Erica and who claim to be angels were there.

They were the driving force behind the building of the new old opera house.

It was only fitting then that before the performance, Josie gave a toast from the stage.

She toasted opera and nightvale and all of the donors who made the opera house possible.

Finally, she toasted old friends.

And when she did, she looked at me and grinned.

I blushed and looked down at my shoes, which were tasteful sponge clogs that matched my tights perfectly.

Okay, so I'm sure you're asking the same question I've been asking for years.

What even is opera?

I don't have any training in opera, but I'll do my best to describe it.

Basically, opera is kind of like theater, but they don't raise the curtain all the way up, so you only can see feet shuffling about while you hear high-pitched wailing and combustion engines.

This particular opera was called Amara.

It was composed and conducted and mostly performed by acting legend Lee Marvin.

It was about a young girl who goes on some kind of...

adventure?

It wasn't clear, because opera is super interactive and entirely non-linear.

Sometimes people from the audience throw old fruit at the stage, and then the actors jump into the audience to wrestle these people.

Audience members are encouraged to yell out things they think the performers should do, and performers often vocalize their distaste for the audience.

At one point in the first act, I shouted, sing a song about old love and new horizons, about wanderlust and uncertainty.

And then a member of the chorus spat at me, and moments later I found someone handcuffed me to my armrest.

It was super fun.

They did raise the curtain all the way, once, revealing a detailed set of a storm-tossed ocean upon which a great ship lurched skyward atop a curling monstrous wave.

The details of the painting and the carpentry were flawless.

I have never been in such awe of a stage set as I was then.

But I think the stage manager recognized the error in allowing the audience to see this and quickly lowered the curtain to just a couple of feet off the floor.

I didn't recognize most of the performers because they kept the curtain so low and the stage light so dim, but I did note that Frank Chen was in the cast, looking every inch the normal human with, I can only assume, a normal number of heads.

At the start of the second act, I sensed a blurry motion in my periphery.

I felt a cold touch on my chained hand.

Nice handcuffs, a whisper said.

Looks like you won't be able to save your friend Dana tonight.

I was terrified, yes.

But like everyone, I'm usually terrified.

I also felt rage, rage at the faceless old woman whispering behind me.

Had she handcuffed me so that I could not save my former intern, my former friend, my current mayor, Dana Cardinal, from whatever evil deeds were coming her way?

I looked up at Mayor Cardinal in her loge box.

She was staring straight at the stage, focused and stony.

And despite all my anger at my old friend, that she had presumably bought me at a sheriff's secret police auction last year and had been using me for the last several months against my will to protect herself against the five-headed dragon Hyra McDaniels and the faceless old woman despite all that.

I looked at Dana's face, hoping she would see me pleading for her safety.

I want to trust and love my friend and for that moment I did.

And I was sorry that the faceless old woman had restrained me so that I could not help her, even if this time I had wanted to.

I followed the mayor's gaze toward the stage.

The houselights dimmed, and the curtains split open.

I saw normal human Frank Chen center stage, each of his heads huffing and snarling, preparing for his aria.

As an aside, I am told this was to be the opera's first ever quintet aria, but honestly, I don't know what either of those words even mean.

Actually, only four of Frank's heads were snarling.

The gold, green, gray, and blue ones.

But his purple head was looking right at

me.

And I felt something familiar, but at the same time, something that I didn't understand.

My hand strained against its chain, but there was nothing I could do.

As the orchestra, led by and comprised entirely of Lee Marvin and a slide whistle, swelled and Frank Chen continued to belch fire and hiss, we all knew something was wrong.

I mean, it's possible that an Aria is just a bunch of roars and flames.

I'm no expert, but it didn't seem likely.

Frank Chen then tore off his bow tie and in doing so revealed he was not 5'8-inch middle-aged human Frank Chen at all,

but Hiram McDaniels, an 18-foot-tall five-headed dragon.

Hiram leapt into the air above the orchestra seats.

I heard a muffled scream from above.

I looked to the mezzanine and saw Trish Hidge, deputy assistant to Mayor Cardinal, trying to quickly escort the mayor away.

But it was too late.

I caught a brief glimpse of someone I had never seen before, or had never seen in my waking life.

She was standing just behind Trish and Mayor Cardinal.

It was a woman I had once seen in a dream.

In my dream, she had been underwater, among coral, young and whispering and faceless.

And now,

in this world, that is very likely not just a dream, I saw this same woman.

And she was old and shouting and faceless.

Iram flew up, past the chandelier, toward Dana in the mezzanine, all of his heads focused on their target, teeth bared and angry.

Except the purple head, which was twisted away as though trying with just its neck to deflect the course of its body.

At that moment, I felt myself rising against my will.

There I was, lot number 37, being called into use once more.

I looked up at Dana, but she was not looking back at me at all.

She was preparing to defend herself.

Alone.

And then

everything went black.

I saw nothing, felt nothing.

I was nowhere.

I heard a voice.

It was whiny and panicked.

It told me it was sorry to keep using me, that it had bought me at an auction two years back just in case.

You never know what could happen.

Nothing can be trusted.

The voice told me it especially didn't trust the other heads it shares a body with, who were always scheming, always making new plans.

Plus it was tired of having to commit violent crimes and consistently living life on the run.

The voice just wanted to settle down.

Maybe start a family.

Nightvale's such a nice town, don't you think?

The voice voice asked me.

And I asked, Hiram?

Is that you?

And the voice said, not all of Hiram.

Most people call me purple head, but I prefer Violet.

Why me?

I asked.

Violet said, One head couldn't work against four.

I've known that a long time.

I needed another body.

Lot thirty-seven was put up for sale, and the other heads were distracted by lot thirty-eight, a normal human disguise.

So

I bought you.

Now I was furious, of course.

I told Violet that I thought Dana had been doing this the whole time.

I blamed her over and over.

I have lost a friend because of you, Violet, I said.

And do you have any idea what it's like to have you control me in this way?

Yes, Violet said.

I only have one-fifth control over my own body.

This is my life all of the time, carried along against my will by the foolish plans of those closest to me, betrayed by my own limbs, by the beating of my own heart.

But I am sorry.

I really am.

You need to fight your own fights, I said.

I will, Cecil, Violet said.

I am giving you back lot thirty seven.

I transfer ownership back to you.

You are yours once again.

And whatever else happens tonight,

I'm sorry.

Well, you should be, I said.

But,

Violet said,

don't blame me for losing your friendship with Dana.

You were the one who didn't trust her.

That was you.

And only you.

Then his voice was gone.

I woke up on the floor of the opera house, which was dark and empty.

I was still handcuffed to a scorched armrest that had been completely burned off of the chair itself.

Most seats and wall sconces had been heavily scorched and destroyed.

I wasn't sure if it was Hiram who did that, or maybe that's just the standard aftermath of opera.

I walked outside to the curb, watching the rain in the streetlights.

I saw the drops flickering in a puddle below.

I do not like reflections that flicker.

I thought of my mother for the first time in a long time.

I missed her.

And, same word, different meaning, I missed the opera.

And the after-party, too.

And, same word, both meanings.

I miss my friend Dana.

I wish I could have...

saved her.

She was gone and I failed her.

No one was around to help with the weight of my guilt or to unchain me from the armrest.

A huge storm was coming through.

A rare weather event for the desert.

Let's have a report on that night's weather.

Now.

Five years,

we're down the road.

You would fake

by now we know

how to

be these other signs.

No

hands

in the air

won't fight it

anymore.

Shake me,

I am giving up

control

Hands

of the steering wheel

Align

and test is now

Pray we

stay on the road

so

high

I don't think

A equals B,

and you get

so upset with me.

What's wrong,

what we leave behind.

Love

hands

in the air,

can't fight it anymore.

Shake me,

I am giving all

control

of the steering wheel

align

and just

is now

praying

on the road

storm

high.

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

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The storm passed, and I began my walk home, my clothes soaked, my clogs now several sizes larger.

The streets were quiet, and I took it all in, knowing these were my final days in Night Vale.

certain I had made the right decision.

Then I smelled the sandy earth, wet from the storm, and saw the buildings of what would soon no longer be my town washed clean by the driven rain, and I wavered in my certainty.

Lost in thought, I failed to hear the car tires on the slick concrete or see the headlights swinging my shadow across the sidewalk.

I heard, Cecil, get in, and, like any citizen of Nightvale when ordered to get into an ominous unmarked car, I obeyed without thinking.

Inside the black stretch limo, impossibly large inside, were dozens of opera supporters and local celebrities.

Old woman Josie and her tall winged friends named Erica were there.

Waiters passed around hors d'oeuvres and champagne.

I hadn't missed the after party after all.

My sister Abby and her husband Steve and my niece Janice were there.

Janice threw her arms around my waist and said, Uncle Cecil, I love the opera so much.

Thanks for the tickets.

I love the part where the dragon flew out over the audience like whoosh, and then it started fighting itself and the purple head started biting the other heads and it was really funny.

Then it flew away out of the theater, and there was a lot of fire, and I thought I saw an old lady with no face ran out too, and the mayor was saved, and Mr.

Lee Marvin sang a beautiful song about all the animals we can see using mirrors, and then it was over, and everyone cheered.

And opera is so cool.

Mom said you were moving away.

Why are you moving away, Uncle Cecil?

Uncle Carlos says you don't have to move if you don't want to.

Will you still come to my birthday party?

Janice continued chattering, but I was dizzy at the name she had just said.

I interrupted her.

Carlos?

Janice,

did you say Carlos?

Duh, he's right over there, Uncle Cecil,

she said.

I turned,

and I saw him.

And he was already looking at me.

And I started to say,

and he started started to say,

and then we just hugged

so tightly.

And in my ear, Carlos said,

Sorry, I missed the opera.

I had to let Kevin know I was returning home and staying there.

And I jerked my head back and said,

Staying here?

And Carlos said,

This is your home.

You belong here.

Then he said,

this is also my home.

I belong here.

Carlos,

anywhere we're together is home,

I said, and I repeated it, and repeated it.

And I said, but Carlos, is Nightvale where we should live?

Is Nightvale even worth living in?

Carlos held my shoulder and said,

Nightvale is just a name, Cecil.

Nightvale is just the name for an area where everyone you love lives,

he said.

Don't worry about the name.

Worry about the everyone,

he said.

Over Carlos' shoulder, I saw Dana.

my old intern and current mayor in the crowd.

She looked at me,

but did not smile.

I

struggled to meet her eyes, which were wary and gracious.

Her deputy, Trish Hidge, circled behind me and removed the handcuff from my wrist with a small key she had pulled from her jacket pocket.

Sorry we had to do that.

Trish said, but we wanted you to be safe.

To not have your body willed by some other force into a fight you were very clear you wanted no part in, we had to physically hold you out of the way so that we could fight this fight on our own.

From across the impossibly large car,

Dana winked and finally smiled.

I mouthed, I'm sorry,

and she did not respond, but Still winking a slow, strange wink,

she receded into the crowd like a distant walker into mist.

At the end of the night, the car dropped Carlos and me back home and I don't think we slept the whole night talking about our new old life together.

All these memories and plans.

We are back together in our home.

And I am back with you in my studio.

My final show as host of Night Vale Community Radio was to be a review of an opera.

And that's still true someday.

But it won't be this opera.

Carlos and I are staying in Night Vale for now.

I will be back on the air with you again very soon with more news and more stories

with more opera.

I think

Carlos is right.

Nightvale isn't a single unified thing that can love or be loved.

It's just the name slapped onto a set of borders and rules that some old bureaucrats wearing soft meat crowns devised centuries ago.

But they don't live here anymore.

We do.

I do.

And I can make it worth it.

I can't just leave it.

I have to live it.

Live it and make it better.

For myself, for Carlos, for my friends, for Abby and Steve and Janice, for old woman Josie and all of the Ericas,

for Dana,

and for you,

listeners.

We will together celebrate another homecoming game.

We will together survive another street cleaning.

We will together...

Well,

we will see.

I can't promise I'll never leave you.

No one can promise that.

But until that moment, let's keep working on this town, this collective idea.

This nightvale, whatever we want that name to mean, we can always start over if we have to.

Rededicate ourselves.

Do it right.

To start with, the secret police have once again jailed Hiram McDaniels for his numerous crimes against his fellow citizens.

Although, in recognition of the Violet head's valiant struggle against the other heads and his own contested body, they've put a small hole in the wall that Violet can stick through and be outside of the jail walls, since technically he is not under arrest.

Stay tuned next

for Happenstance, reconstructed into narrative and falsely interpreted as having significance.

And as always,

good night, Night Vale.

Good night.

Welcome to Night Vale is a production of commonplace books.

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

The voice of Night Vale is Cecil Baldwin.

Original music by Dispirition.

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

This episode's weather was A Line by Abby Wolf.

Find out more at abbywolf.bandcamp.com.

Comments, questions, email us at info at welcometonightvale.com or follow us on Twitter at nightvale radio.

Check out welcometonightvale.com for more information on this show as well as all sorts of cool nightfail stuff you can own.

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

That'd be cool of you.

Today's proverb: You say potato, I say potato.

Potato, potato, potato, potato, potato.

Yes, this is very good.

Let's keep going.

Potato, potato, potato.

Bundle and safe with Expedia.

You were made to follow your favorite band and

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

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

We'll also be doing 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, and they are for you, the Die Hard fan, and you, the Night Vale new kid alike.

So feel comfortable bringing your family, your partner, your co-workers, your cat, whatever.

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

Tickets to all of these live shows are on sale now at welcometonightvelle.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 US plus Toronto tours right now at welcome to nightveld.com/slash live.

And hey, see you soon.