> Welcome to Pony Vale > by iisaw > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- > Part 1 > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- There's a tiny patch of dry skin on your wrist. It's been there for quite a while, but it doesn't seem to be getting any larger. Sometimes, late at night, it says things. Terrible, hurtful things. Welcome to Night Vale. Listeners, I would like to ask for a moment of silence for those poor, doomed people who failed to sample the macaroni salad at the StrexCorp company barbecue this last Saturday. Also, I would like to urge anyone who finds pieces of those people in their closets, car trunks, or lunch bags to contact... Just a moment! I've just been handed an important message from the Sheriff's Secret Police: "At three-thirty this afternoon, in the vacant lot behind the Ralph's, a purple, winged, unicorn pony did not appear next to the biohazard dumpster, and she most definitely did not look around at our beautiful town in disgust and say, 'At least, I'm not a half-bald ape, this time.'" The Sheriff's Secret Police would like to remind you that having hallucinations of this sort are illegal and punishable... hmn... I'm sorry, dear listeners, but I've turned the paper over, and that's all it says, "punishable." Well! I'm certainly glad that I haven't been having any hallucinations of that sort! A purple unicorn pony with wings? Kind of creepy, if you ask me! Oh, wait! I've just been handed another note from the Sheriff's Secret Police. It says that it might have been a lavender or mulberry colored pony that did not appear behind the Ralph's. There is also a repeat of the word, "punishable," in large letters, and in red ink. At least I think it's ink. Let’s go now to Traffic. Somewhere in the desert, there is a single, bare footprint. The wind scours it. The rare, August monsoon rain falls heavily, filling it. The sun burns down upon it. Ants cross it in their millions, going... where? No one knows. This has been Traffic. Listeners, I bring you an urgent press release from the City Council. A Level Orange Fear Alert has been issued! "The City Council advises all Night Vale citizens to remember that life is pain, and that any attempt to enjoy one's own existence is futile and counter-productive." The Alert further recommends that anyone hearing cheerful music or the singing of uplifting lyrics from apparently nowhere, should resist all temptation to join in. "Your very souls may be at risk!" the Alert concludes, in a very spooky font. In insistently unrelated news, StrexCorp would like to remind the citizens of Night Vale, that risking company property is not allowed under the Terms of Agreement implicitly agreed to by all users of StrexCorp products. All users. All. Users. Aaaaaaaaaaaall. Listeners, Trish Hidge, who works for Mayor Pamela Winchell, just dropped by the station to give me a clarification on the powers possessed by the Night Vale Mayor and, by extension, herself. She said that although the Mayor can turn into a horse, it is a full-grown one of a pleasing, but entirely normal color. Neither the Mayor nor she can become adorable little ponies, and wings and unicorn horns seem to be totally beyond their abilities. She says she knows this because she has tried. Oh, how she has tried! Trish then broke down and began to sob, uncontrollably. Intern Eric volunteered to see her safely back to the Mayor's office. That's odd. I thought our new intern's name was Anhotep. Oh well. Teddy Williams, at the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex is offering a two-for-one special this week. Rent one bowling shoe at twice the normal cost and a second shoe will appear, by your bedside, later that evening, long after it could be of any use. Now it's time for the Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner. Children, today I'd like to tell you about the dangers of ponies. Ponies are deceptive. Ponies are evil. They lure you in with their bright and cheerful faces and then they fill your mind with lies. They deny the utter hopelessness of existence. They make it seem as if relationships are not based solely on the fear of being alone in a heartless, uncaring universe. They deny the possibility that your dearest loved one might be a parasitic insect in disguise. Oh, wait. No, they don't do that last one. But they do all that other stuff. This has been the Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner. The Night Vale Community Calendar for... oh! Wait! Dear listeners, is that who I think it is? There, outside my booth, stands the figure of a young girl with dark hair and dark eyes... oh... so, so dark! Around her neck hangs a desiccated head... yes! It must be Tamika Flynn, heroine of the Summer Reading Program disaster! She hooks one finger into the eye socket of the head and then begins to write on the glass with the pale goo now coating her finger. "Where is the librarian?" she writes. Listeners, I've just realized that to make her message legible to me, Tamika has had to write it backwards from her viewpoint! She's quite the talented little girl, isn't she? And such neat penmanship, too! Oh, my! Tamika is now pounding on the glass and pointing her dripping index finger at her message with a terrible intensity. I try to convey to her, with a series of grimaces and body postures, that I am unable to answer her question. I have only glimpsed a librarian once in my life, and that was at a distance, and long, long ago. So very long ago. Tamika frowns and returns her finger to the skull's eye socket. She raises her finger to the glass, again.... Oh! But this time, she isn't writing anything. She seems to be drawing something. A simple circle. Another. Now, a few curves. Are those legs? Four of them? Eyes! Yes, that must be a head. Wait. That is a horn. And wings. Oh, dear listeners, I do not like where this is going! This... this is... punishable! Before any further horrors assail my eyes, and your ears, dear listeners, I bring you... The Weather > Part 2 > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Listeners, I have breaking news! Despite the best efforts of the Sheriff’s Secret Police. we have received confirmation that over 100 citizens have apparently willfully experienced the punishable hallucination, and have also... Wait! I've just received a note from station management. It is a dark clay tablet incised with strange and disquieting runes and sigils from some inhuman language. Luckily, there’s a post-it note with a translation stuck on the back! Let’s see… It says, “Keep her away! To be befriended is to be subsumed. Go. Go to the library. This creature from another dimension must be stopped! A sacrifice is needed.” Isn’t that just like management? I’m right in the middle of my show and they want me to run errands. Well, intern Eric hasn’t returned from the Mayor’s office yet, so I guess I’ll have to go. It’s too bad Tamika left during the weather; now there’s a girl who knows how to handle librarians! But don’t worry dear listeners; I have my portable audio equipment and will be able to continue broadcasting. = = = Outside the station now, and I just ran into John Peters (you know, the farmer?). He was humming quite a catchy tune and occasionally doing a few dance steps as he walked along. When he caught sight of me, he ran over and gave me a big hug. “You’re a good friend, Cecil,” he said to me. “I don’t tell you that often enough! I’m going to go get some ice cream now. Wanna come?” I checked his skull for large, pulpy brain parasites, of course, but found nothing. I am continuing toward the library. I see more people on the streets, all smiling and humming. Honestly dear listeners, this is starting to creep me out. Ah! There’s the library now, and… oh no! The barricades have been removed! The razor wire is gone! The doors… the doors are open! And there before them stands a defiant Tamika Flynn. Oh, I am so relieved that at least she isn’t smiling! She’s calling out toward the open doors of the library. I don’t think my equipment can pick up her words from this distance, so I will repeat them for you. “Come out, librarian!” she growls in a determined voice. “I’m ready for you!” What a brave little girl! I’ve never had the nerve to get that close to the library even when it was sealed… oh it’s Carlos! Hello Carlos! He waved to me from across the street! He’s setting up what looks to be some very complicated scientific equipment. He seems distracted, and he must have carried all that stuff a very long way, but his hair is still perfect. I just don’t know how he does it! Maybe he will want to go get ice cream together when all this extra-dimensional librarian/hallucination stuff is over with. Now he’s focusing intently on something… oh, the library! Yes, it seems that something is stirring in the Stygian depths of the tomb-like interior. Slowly, slowly a figure is revealed. A hideous entity that is too horrible to… well… Actually, she’s kind of cute. The hallucination blinks in the bright sunshine and looks down the steps to where brave Tamika braces herself for battle. “Oh, hello!” the monster says, in an inappropriately lovely voice for a horror from another world. “What do you want here?” Tamika challenges the purple (or is it lavender?) winged unicorn pony... thing. “I won’t let your nefarious scheme succeed!” The creature blinks in confusion. “I just came for a book,” she replies. Tamika straightens up slightly from her fighting crouch. “Really?” “Uh-huh,” the hallucination says cheerfully, and her horn begins to glow. From out of the hideously open library doors floats a book enveloped in a pale aura. It’s… yes, it’s Italo Calvino’s If on a winter's night a traveler. The book drifts through the air and stops a few feet in front of Tamika and the front cover opens. Oh, dear listeners, I can barely watch! What eldritch horror will be revealed? It… it… it seems to be a small manila card. Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting that! “See?” the frankly adorable abomination from another world says. “It’s correctly checked out and everything.” Tamika stares at the card for a moment and then gives a slight “huh” of surprise. “Well… I guess that’s okay then.” She sheepishly replaces her battleaxe in her backpack. “Sorry,” she continues. “I thought with you being a librarian and all… it’s just not how things usually go around here.” “Oh, no problem!” comes the terrifyingly cheerful reply from the creature. “I wasn’t ever officially a librarian. That’s a common misconception a lot of ponies have.” This… Tamika is right. This is all so wrong. Cheerful conversation… smiles… and absolutely no blood anywhere! What is happening? Now Tamika and the monster are walking together, side-by-side toward the Ralph’s. Oh no! The creature… she… she just turned and glanced at Carlos! He nods and smiles at her, oblivious to the terrible danger! She bares her teeth in a twisted expression that… oh… I guess that’s a smile, too. She nods to Carols and says in a bright cheerful voice, “Nice hair!” Carlos says, “Thanks! I like your mane.” Huh. Well, obviously this horror from another dimension has pretty good taste in hairstyles. Now the monster turns her gaze on me! What will… Oh. She just told me that she and Tamika are going to get ice cream and asked if I’d like to come along. I glance at Carlos, who is already packing up his equipment. He nods encouragingly. "Well, if my friend Carlos can come along?" “Of course!” the monst… uh, the pony says with a beautiful smile. I… I am going to turn off my portable broadcaster now, listeners. I am alright. I will be back. Somehow I know this. Suddenly, I feel like singing. Stay tuned next, for the sound of a heavy, many-legged creature, scrabbling at the ceiling above your bed. Goodnight, Night Vale. Goodnight. = = = =