December 18, 2022 • 31 mins
A passage through the veil; A familiar ride with a familiar companion; a sorrowful story abruptly cut short. Featuring the voices of Malcolm McDowell, Gina Rickicki, and Jay Jones. Written by Ben Bowlin.
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
M twelve Ghosts is a production of I Heeart three
D audio and grim and mild from Aaron Banky Headphones recommended.
Listener discretion advised. How like a winter hath my absence
(00:23):
been from the the pleasure of the fleeting year? What
freezings have I felt? What dark days? See? What old
December's banners everywhere? I like to hang a garland on
(01:06):
the door as a reminder to my lodgers of the
promise of life in the midst of the bleak winter
they traveled through and more of its inside garland of evergreen,
over the mantel, throughout the kitchen, up the stair rail,
guiding them to their rest. It is a comforts you've
(01:30):
grown quiet, I'm still in shock. It's easier for some
to pass through the veil. Some see their death from
miles away, and when they appear on the side, are
well prepared for the journey ahead. Some others are caught
by surprise, finding themselves in a dark, wintry wood after
(01:53):
a stray bullet in wartime or heart attack in the
grocery store. Can you imagine pau suing the cheeses of
the world one moment thrust into a midwinter blizzard the
next It's a surprise to me that most of you
can speak at all. After such an upset, you will
settle in. The shock wears off. Eventually another is coming,
(02:22):
so it would seem welcome, welcome, help your friend. You
look as if you've come a long way. Is here?
You have to be more specific. I'm afraid it's been
a busy night. It's I was just there. It was
(02:44):
a ghost. Everyone's a ghost at some point, isn't advertrue? Here?
Come in, have some wine. Sit my friend. This is Annabelle.
She's having similar dissonance confusion, loves company and my experience. Hello, Hello,
(03:11):
You know musically there's nothing more pleasing to the ear
than hearing dissonance resolve itself into harmony here Now, tell me, friend,
what is it that brought you here? I walked into
the water and it was going to be the end. Well,
(03:34):
then here we are, Welcome to the end. Ernie Bannaker,
Who is it you're looking for? Exactly? Listen, here's what
I remember. It was more of the same, another end
to another Saturday night, and then there she was you again.
(04:02):
Some things never changed, right? Let me guess, and the
damn street Hamster if you please. Yeah, all the way
up to the pier, just like last year and the
year before that and the year before that. In the
year before they get you know, I was thinking, mind
(04:26):
if I play some music. Here we go. This is
a little classical radio station. I don't think you heard
of it. It's the usual stuff for most nights, Mozart
Takovski for at least those sort of tunes. As we
get closer to Christmas and the end of the year,
(04:46):
they get a little classier. I guess you could say, Hey,
what do I know. I've been a cabby for almost
forty years now. Maybe it's just listening to the radio.
This long roped off on me. The familiarity, right, an
accidental expert, and that's me. Huh. This is nocturnes from
(05:09):
a guy named Chopin. Anyway, like I was saying, towards
the end of the year, this station starts to play more.
I guess you could say thoughtful music, lonely music. It's
the weather. I think people ponder endings around this time.
It brings out something deep in folks, you know, wordless
(05:33):
When when Mandy was alive, Remember I told you by
Mandy when she was alive. She called it melancholy, A
beautiful kind of melancholy, she called it. She had a
way with words, not like you and me. Huh, I
just ramble on and you you said maybe three things
to me all these years. Amsterdam, And if you please,
(05:57):
just passing through, I'd like to look at the water.
You've always been a woman a few words. Some people
would say that makes you a good conversationalist, a good listener.
You know, I can name most of the songs these days.
Who would have thought me? Who Ernie and a Fishonado.
(06:21):
They call it of classical music. I remember the first
time I picked you up Christmas Eve. God how many
years ago. I was listening to those doo wop stations
and those songs were old. Even then. We didn't talk much,
you remember, Maybe you just gave me the address and
(06:43):
we drove on all the way out to AMSTERDAMN Street
in the pier. I gotta admit, lady, I was surprised
to find you in the same spot the next year.
I don't mean to be rude, you know, it's just
guys like me. We pick up hundreds and hundreds and
thousands of people, and you'd be surprised what you remember
(07:04):
and what you forget. Take for example, people in suits
between me and you. I don't remember any of them, crazy, right,
but it's true. I know they all have their own
lives and worries and all that. But the suit, it's
like a camouflage, you know, like stripes on the tiger,
(07:24):
or how an octopus can change its colors, like the
predator in those movies. They always say the same sort
of stuff to the suits. I tell you, it's like
it's the same guy every time. And I'll be honest.
After this long drive, and I'm not sure I remember
how many pregnant women I drove to the hospital. Just
(07:48):
the one who gave birth in the back, Alfonso. I
think the guy said they were gonna name the kid
al finds out. They seem like a nice couple, stressed out,
you know, but nice who knows what's going on with him?
Now me and he was happy for him. And he
had a word for that too. She called it signed there,
(08:09):
the feeling that everybody, absolutely everybody, has their own inner life,
deep and full of meaning, and no one else would
never know much about it. I thought that was depressing,
you can say it made me melancholy. Still, I never
heard from that couple again. And this must have been
(08:32):
twelve years ago. Now, A November was little Alphie might
be old enough to drive. I think I told you
about him that year because it had just happened. And heck,
you know, you might remember more about them than I do.
I've been losing details, you know, more and more these days,
(08:55):
just little things like who won the World Series win
or how old my niece is out in Atlanta. But
I don't forget it route not ever. It's burned into
my brain. No GPS for us old heads. You know,
just last week I told the doc, Look, if you
cut open my skull right here, you dig into my
(09:15):
brain and you'll see a tattoo of the whole city,
but my thoughts racing all around it, like cars and
rush hour. I guess the thing is, as you get older,
the road up there gets rougher, your cars go slower.
Sometimes you get traffic jams. Anyway, Yeah, I go rambling.
(09:40):
I can't remember what I wanted to tell you, but hey,
let me know. If you want us to just try,
say the word lady, and I'll be as silent as
a grave. M H. Bad joke. Bad joke. I know,
I'm just a little nervous as all lie. Like I said,
that's okay. Bees don't remember too many people after a
(10:03):
few years. They they're like blurd all together, like cream
and coffee. It goes brown gray whatever. We all get
some regulars. Maybe someone works laid across town and the
train is closed when they get off, or something like that.
It's rare. We usually just pick up people near wherever
(10:24):
we dropped the last person off. And believe me, most
fairs don't remember their cab drivers either. People treat us
like like another part of the car. Most days I'm
fine with it. Some days are different. I wanted to
see if I could ask your opinion about some things.
(10:44):
Is that okay? If not? Just saying okay? So, first,
you remember how we met. I picked up the fan
right there off for pe mind on a slow night.
You're addressed, just like you are now when you held
(11:05):
your hand up so the waving, but not really I
can well, I'd like to think I can read people.
Even back then, I had a sort of sense about folks,
and I knew you didn't really want to talk, so
I left you alone. And that first year we drove
in silence all the way across the city to the water.
(11:27):
I should have said something to you, then, do you
think no, dice? Okay, remember how maybe it was God
thirty thirty one years ago and I picked you up
from the usual route. I was still young then, well younger,
(11:48):
I guess, but you know what I mean. I just
got back from that honeymoon. Mandy and I went all
the way to Mexico, and boy did our savings go
with it. I told her, I love you, sweetheart, but
we might have to settle on Florida for at least
the first anniversary. A cabby in the school teacher don't
exactly make world traveler salary, you know. Anyhow, while we
(12:13):
were there and Mandy wanted to do some weird things.
The weirdest one it was a ghost tour. I know,
I know who thinks of ghosts when they think of honeymoons,
But that was Mandy. We went on the tour. It
was like any other, more a history told than anything else.
(12:36):
But as we walked through towards the end, there was
something that struck me. A story. Once upon a time,
the tour guy said, back in the turn of the century,
there was this this little boy who lived on a
farm by a lake. This was a big operation and
what you're calling an a state, and the boy's family
(12:59):
had lots of servants, and his family was very rich.
Being rich don't make it happy. You know. His kid
is miserable. His mother died when he was young. Because
the boy was the son of the patron, the wealthy owner,
and because all the other boys his age were sons
of the servants, this little boy had no real friends.
(13:20):
His father, who was a very nasty guy, wouldn't let
him talk to the other kids. So this boy, he
just wanders around the estate when he isn't with his tutor.
His friends become the birds, the trees, the little frogs
hopping along the shore. While he's distant from most things,
he's a smart kid. He's heard the rumors, the things
(13:44):
a dolt say when they think children aren't listening. And
you know, it's surprising what children can understand. He hears
these whispers about his old man doing things to women
on the phone. It's all hushed up and he owns
(14:06):
the police, and sometimes the women disappear. The kid don't
think much of it, but he does like the mystery.
Kids love mysteries, right, So, the tour guy says, one night,
the little boy wanders out along the lake and he
sees this lady along the shore. At first, he thinks
(14:29):
she's kind of walking on maybe dancing kinda. He sneaks
up as close as he dares, hiding in the bushes,
until he sees her feet aren't touching the ground. He
can even, he thinks, sort of see through her if
he squints hard enough, and as he watches, she opens
(14:51):
her mouth. Here she screams, m hm. Anyway, the legend goes.
The boy learned this was a ghost La La Rona,
the tour guy called it, and the story it was
(15:14):
the boy's mother. She killed herself when she learned her
husband was cheating, and drowned one of the other kids
at the same time, and she just kept walking along
where she died, horrified about what she'd done, but doomed
to repeat it. The little boy, if I remember, grew
up and went crazy. The guy said this was just
(15:35):
one version. She said, they are different versions. Sometimes the
lady lost a lover or her kid, or you know. Still,
it's a weird way to end the tour, right, I mean,
I mean, are you like that are you one of
(15:59):
them just passing through. It's like I'm talking to a record.
Look I'm not a superstitious guy. I'm not even religious.
I'm just old lady. I've been taking you along the
same route for decades. Every Christmas. Eve gave up asking
(16:20):
you the going rate. After the first few years, three
bucks didn't much with the inflation east days. You know,
I'm sorry, that's just a little joke. I make jokes
when I'm nervous. You know that, don't you. I just okay,
(16:41):
I'll be honest. You know, Mandy died years back. I
wish I could remember when cancer it was all riddled
through it like holes and Swiss cheese. I was wrecked,
but I still made it here. I still drove you
(17:03):
to your spot. I never asked you much, not much
at all. But I never let you down, and I
never sent anyone else to pick you up or started
asking questions. I've never even told anyone about you except
for Mandy, and she's she's gone. She's gone now. But
(17:32):
I did some digging after Mandy. You know, I had
nothing but time. Even when I was sure, I never
said anything. This is gonna be my last ride with you. Sarah.
That's you, isn't it. Sarah bowling Age went missing some
(17:58):
forty years ago. Now you'd be older and me these days.
I had no idea who you were for a long time,
a long time. But it is you, isn't it. Your
clothes haven't changed, you haven't aged to day. You show
(18:20):
up every year and we take the exact same route
to the exact same spot. You know, the police never
contacted me. Was it was that the last person to
see you alive? Was that something I could have done?
(18:44):
Haunts me? Lady for your words. I guess I look,
there was something I could do, something I could have done.
I'm sorry, truly, I didn't know. I suppose we passed
(19:06):
all that now. You know. The doctor, when I talked
to her earliest, she said that I got something called
Louis body dementia. She put it to me in Cabby terms.
She said, Ernie, if your brand was a city map,
the road signs are sort of in the wrong places.
Now my sleeps all weird. But this time next year,
(19:29):
I'd probably be in a home on the ground, depending
on how things play out. I hated you, you know
that for a long time. It don't make sense saying
it now, but I did. I hated you. Every year
the world took a little more from me, and every
(19:51):
year there you were, same age, same clothes, same conversation.
I don't even know if you remember me. There were
some Christmas Eves, especially right after Mandy died, where I
would think, what's the fucking point, you know, with the
(20:14):
point of it all? They got these ghost shows on
TV now where people make tons of money pretending to
talk to ghosts, And here I am. I meet you
once a year, and I could have made enough for
the hospital bills. Mandy could have been here now. So
(20:39):
I wanted to ask you, just this time, just this
last ride together. I wanted to ask you so many things.
Is she there, wherever it is you go when you
know you aren't here. I wanted to ask you if
(21:03):
you and I square, if you blame me for whatever happened.
More important, I wanted to tell you you're my best
friend nowadays, you and me, Well, you're the most meaningful
person in my life. And you know, I hope you
(21:28):
can appreciate the humor in it. All my other friends
that did long gone one way or another. I spend
these Christmas Is with you I worked the day like
any other. I wait until about eleven PM. I pick
you up at Piedmont, drive across town, and then I
(21:51):
turned around and drive back through the city. That late
I don't know if you noticed, but that late said
it's abandoned. There's something I don't know holy about abandoned places,
especially when they're built to have big groups of folks,
(22:14):
like an empty grocery store late at night with low
music playing one endless song droning into the night. The
city's like that. On Christmas Eve, you drive through downtown
and there's this this hush all across the streets and
(22:36):
boulevards and avenues, and it it hits you. This is
what people meant when they built cathedrals. The space of it,
the silence it holds you, wraps you up like a
soft blanket and you're safe. Like there's something good on
(22:56):
the way. Water at night, big water along the shore
with a big moon, like a silver coin. It makes
you think the morning worth waiting for. I wish you
(23:16):
could have seen it. We could have turned around and
just driven through it once, and then if you wanted,
I would have turned right back and drove you right
back here. We could have maybe going to a diner
and you could have talked with someone. Hell, I would
have woken Mandy up. Back then, the three of us
could have, I don't know, walked through the streets of
(23:38):
Uptown with all the Christmas lights. He would have liked
those that we could have said at the dinner, watching
the night run off in the dawn, I read somewhere.
That's all it takes. Sometimes, the right person walking by
the bridge, someone leaning out the window and asking what's
going on. There's this guy somewhere in China. He lost
(24:02):
someone and moved his whole restaurant to the bridge with
when she died, and he has a little I don't remember,
a little noodle shop at the bottom of the bridge,
so he can see if someone's about to jump, and
when he sees them, he runs straight up the bridge,
drops whatever he's doing, and he just talks to him.
(24:25):
A person's whole life can hinge on such tiny things.
I think most people, people your age, they end up
regretting those kinds of decisions. You have to be old,
you have to be tired, you have to get to
a point where you're not running away. It's just sort
(24:48):
of letting go Maybe that's where this whole thing is
in the end, Maybe this whole stupid life this it's
just holding something, loving it long enough, and handing it
to someone else when the time is done. It's like
a museum. Maybe you're stopping. You look at something and
(25:09):
you only see it because the people in front of
you moved on. If you love it, you move so
the people behind you can see it too. We have
to be sneaky around this part. You might not know it,
but the city has grown bigger and bigger over the years,
(25:32):
and this isn't exactly a public road anymore. Still, I
think security takes Christmas off. Look at this place, these
huge ships. Jesus, they're probably older than me. I'm tired.
I bet they are too. Do you ever get tired?
(25:57):
Do you know where you are and where you're going?
M Are you? I don't mean to be rude, but
are you still? Are you? Or are you? More like
a recording? Like a song played every year on some
sort of ghostly radio. That be a kicker, wouldn't it
(26:18):
a seventy year old man chatting away with the radio.
Do do you remember me? Come on? Like I said?
Three bucks in much these days? I can't remember if
I told you, but for years now I've just been
(26:39):
putting those half dollars in the glove box. Consider this
one on the house. I just I'm not sure how
to ask this. I got nothing now nothing, and maybe
I'm already crazy, like the dog says. But I wanted
(27:01):
to thank you, thank you for your company. You're the
only ghost I've ever met. You know that. I got
to say, You're not scary at all. How does the
story end for you? Where do you go? You know? After?
(27:25):
I'd like to look at the water? Is it okay
this time? If I go with you? If it is okay,
I think i'd like to look at the water too.
(27:51):
Where do you walk when you get out? I'd like
to see the other side. M h Maybe it is
everyone we met. Maybe they'll be saying, hey you again.
(28:27):
Ah ah, yes I've seen them. You have. Where is
she again? You need to be a little more specific.
Are you looking for Mandy or for Sarah? Mandy's here.
It's been a busy night. Are you gonna go upstairs?
(28:47):
Ernie Bannaker and all your questions will be answered? What's
where are we? What's up stairs? Many rooms? Ernie Bannaker.
There are many rooms. This key should fit into the
one you're looking for. Well, he seems ready to get
(29:13):
on with it. I hope he finds what he's looking for.
He will I do love when dissonance resolves itself. Speaking
of the devil, this should be interesting. Twelve Ghosts starring
(30:22):
Malcolm McDowell as the Innkeeper and Gina Rikiki as Annabelle.
Episode five You Again, written by Ben Boland with additional
writing by Nicholas Takowski. Editing by Chris Childs and Stephen Perez,
featuring Jay Jones as Ernie. Directed by Nicholas Takowski. Original
score and sound design by Chris Childs. Executive producers Aaron Mankey,
(30:47):
Matt Frederick, Alexander Williams and Nicholas Takowski. Supervising producer Josh Staine.
Producers Chris Childs and Stephen Perez. Casting by Sunday Bowling
C s A and Meg Wrman c s A. Production
coordinator Wayna Calderon. Recorded at Lantern Audio in Atlanta, Georgia,
engineered by Chris Gardner, Aeros Sound and Recording in Ojai, California.
(31:12):
Engineered by Ken Arrows. Twelve Ghosts was created by Nicholas
Takowski and is a production of I Heeart, three D
Audio and Grim and Mild from Aaron Manky. Learn more
about the show at Grim and Mild dot com and
find more podcasts from my Heart Radio by visiting the
i Heart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen
to your favorite shows.
M twelve Ghosts is a production of I Heeart three
D audio and grim and mild from Aaron Banky Headphones recommended.
Listener discretion advised. How like a winter hath my absence
(00:23):
been from the the pleasure of the fleeting year? What
freezings have I felt? What dark days? See? What old
December's banners everywhere? I like to hang a garland on
(01:06):
the door as a reminder to my lodgers of the
promise of life in the midst of the bleak winter
they traveled through and more of its inside garland of evergreen,
over the mantel, throughout the kitchen, up the stair rail,
guiding them to their rest. It is a comforts you've
(01:30):
grown quiet, I'm still in shock. It's easier for some
to pass through the veil. Some see their death from
miles away, and when they appear on the side, are
well prepared for the journey ahead. Some others are caught
by surprise, finding themselves in a dark, wintry wood after
(01:53):
a stray bullet in wartime or heart attack in the
grocery store. Can you imagine pau suing the cheeses of
the world one moment thrust into a midwinter blizzard the
next It's a surprise to me that most of you
can speak at all. After such an upset, you will
settle in. The shock wears off. Eventually another is coming,
(02:22):
so it would seem welcome, welcome, help your friend. You
look as if you've come a long way. Is here?
You have to be more specific. I'm afraid it's been
a busy night. It's I was just there. It was
(02:44):
a ghost. Everyone's a ghost at some point, isn't advertrue? Here?
Come in, have some wine. Sit my friend. This is Annabelle.
She's having similar dissonance confusion, loves company and my experience. Hello, Hello,
(03:11):
You know musically there's nothing more pleasing to the ear
than hearing dissonance resolve itself into harmony here Now, tell me, friend,
what is it that brought you here? I walked into
the water and it was going to be the end. Well,
(03:34):
then here we are, Welcome to the end. Ernie Bannaker,
Who is it you're looking for? Exactly? Listen, here's what
I remember. It was more of the same, another end
to another Saturday night, and then there she was you again.
(04:02):
Some things never changed, right? Let me guess, and the
damn street Hamster if you please. Yeah, all the way
up to the pier, just like last year and the
year before that and the year before that. In the
year before they get you know, I was thinking, mind
(04:26):
if I play some music. Here we go. This is
a little classical radio station. I don't think you heard
of it. It's the usual stuff for most nights, Mozart
Takovski for at least those sort of tunes. As we
get closer to Christmas and the end of the year,
(04:46):
they get a little classier. I guess you could say, Hey,
what do I know. I've been a cabby for almost
forty years now. Maybe it's just listening to the radio.
This long roped off on me. The familiarity, right, an
accidental expert, and that's me. Huh. This is nocturnes from
(05:09):
a guy named Chopin. Anyway, like I was saying, towards
the end of the year, this station starts to play more.
I guess you could say thoughtful music, lonely music. It's
the weather. I think people ponder endings around this time.
It brings out something deep in folks, you know, wordless
(05:33):
When when Mandy was alive, Remember I told you by
Mandy when she was alive. She called it melancholy, A
beautiful kind of melancholy, she called it. She had a
way with words, not like you and me. Huh, I
just ramble on and you you said maybe three things
to me all these years. Amsterdam, And if you please,
(05:57):
just passing through, I'd like to look at the water.
You've always been a woman a few words. Some people
would say that makes you a good conversationalist, a good listener.
You know, I can name most of the songs these days.
Who would have thought me? Who Ernie and a Fishonado.
(06:21):
They call it of classical music. I remember the first
time I picked you up Christmas Eve. God how many
years ago. I was listening to those doo wop stations
and those songs were old. Even then. We didn't talk much,
you remember, Maybe you just gave me the address and
(06:43):
we drove on all the way out to AMSTERDAMN Street
in the pier. I gotta admit, lady, I was surprised
to find you in the same spot the next year.
I don't mean to be rude, you know, it's just
guys like me. We pick up hundreds and hundreds and
thousands of people, and you'd be surprised what you remember
(07:04):
and what you forget. Take for example, people in suits
between me and you. I don't remember any of them, crazy, right,
but it's true. I know they all have their own
lives and worries and all that. But the suit, it's
like a camouflage, you know, like stripes on the tiger,
(07:24):
or how an octopus can change its colors, like the
predator in those movies. They always say the same sort
of stuff to the suits. I tell you, it's like
it's the same guy every time. And I'll be honest.
After this long drive, and I'm not sure I remember
how many pregnant women I drove to the hospital. Just
(07:48):
the one who gave birth in the back, Alfonso. I
think the guy said they were gonna name the kid
al finds out. They seem like a nice couple, stressed out,
you know, but nice who knows what's going on with him?
Now me and he was happy for him. And he
had a word for that too. She called it signed there,
(08:09):
the feeling that everybody, absolutely everybody, has their own inner life,
deep and full of meaning, and no one else would
never know much about it. I thought that was depressing,
you can say it made me melancholy. Still, I never
heard from that couple again. And this must have been
(08:32):
twelve years ago. Now, A November was little Alphie might
be old enough to drive. I think I told you
about him that year because it had just happened. And heck,
you know, you might remember more about them than I do.
I've been losing details, you know, more and more these days,
(08:55):
just little things like who won the World Series win
or how old my niece is out in Atlanta. But
I don't forget it route not ever. It's burned into
my brain. No GPS for us old heads. You know,
just last week I told the doc, Look, if you
cut open my skull right here, you dig into my
(09:15):
brain and you'll see a tattoo of the whole city,
but my thoughts racing all around it, like cars and
rush hour. I guess the thing is, as you get older,
the road up there gets rougher, your cars go slower.
Sometimes you get traffic jams. Anyway, Yeah, I go rambling.
(09:40):
I can't remember what I wanted to tell you, but hey,
let me know. If you want us to just try,
say the word lady, and I'll be as silent as
a grave. M H. Bad joke. Bad joke. I know,
I'm just a little nervous as all lie. Like I said,
that's okay. Bees don't remember too many people after a
(10:03):
few years. They they're like blurd all together, like cream
and coffee. It goes brown gray whatever. We all get
some regulars. Maybe someone works laid across town and the
train is closed when they get off, or something like that.
It's rare. We usually just pick up people near wherever
(10:24):
we dropped the last person off. And believe me, most
fairs don't remember their cab drivers either. People treat us
like like another part of the car. Most days I'm
fine with it. Some days are different. I wanted to
see if I could ask your opinion about some things.
(10:44):
Is that okay? If not? Just saying okay? So, first,
you remember how we met. I picked up the fan
right there off for pe mind on a slow night.
You're addressed, just like you are now when you held
(11:05):
your hand up so the waving, but not really I
can well, I'd like to think I can read people.
Even back then, I had a sort of sense about folks,
and I knew you didn't really want to talk, so
I left you alone. And that first year we drove
in silence all the way across the city to the water.
(11:27):
I should have said something to you, then, do you
think no, dice? Okay, remember how maybe it was God
thirty thirty one years ago and I picked you up
from the usual route. I was still young then, well younger,
(11:48):
I guess, but you know what I mean. I just
got back from that honeymoon. Mandy and I went all
the way to Mexico, and boy did our savings go
with it. I told her, I love you, sweetheart, but
we might have to settle on Florida for at least
the first anniversary. A cabby in the school teacher don't
exactly make world traveler salary, you know. Anyhow, while we
(12:13):
were there and Mandy wanted to do some weird things.
The weirdest one it was a ghost tour. I know,
I know who thinks of ghosts when they think of honeymoons,
But that was Mandy. We went on the tour. It
was like any other, more a history told than anything else.
(12:36):
But as we walked through towards the end, there was
something that struck me. A story. Once upon a time,
the tour guy said, back in the turn of the century,
there was this this little boy who lived on a
farm by a lake. This was a big operation and
what you're calling an a state, and the boy's family
(12:59):
had lots of servants, and his family was very rich.
Being rich don't make it happy. You know. His kid
is miserable. His mother died when he was young. Because
the boy was the son of the patron, the wealthy owner,
and because all the other boys his age were sons
of the servants, this little boy had no real friends.
(13:20):
His father, who was a very nasty guy, wouldn't let
him talk to the other kids. So this boy, he
just wanders around the estate when he isn't with his tutor.
His friends become the birds, the trees, the little frogs
hopping along the shore. While he's distant from most things,
he's a smart kid. He's heard the rumors, the things
(13:44):
a dolt say when they think children aren't listening. And
you know, it's surprising what children can understand. He hears
these whispers about his old man doing things to women
on the phone. It's all hushed up and he owns
(14:06):
the police, and sometimes the women disappear. The kid don't
think much of it, but he does like the mystery.
Kids love mysteries, right, So, the tour guy says, one night,
the little boy wanders out along the lake and he
sees this lady along the shore. At first, he thinks
(14:29):
she's kind of walking on maybe dancing kinda. He sneaks
up as close as he dares, hiding in the bushes,
until he sees her feet aren't touching the ground. He
can even, he thinks, sort of see through her if
he squints hard enough, and as he watches, she opens
(14:51):
her mouth. Here she screams, m hm. Anyway, the legend goes.
The boy learned this was a ghost La La Rona,
the tour guy called it, and the story it was
(15:14):
the boy's mother. She killed herself when she learned her
husband was cheating, and drowned one of the other kids
at the same time, and she just kept walking along
where she died, horrified about what she'd done, but doomed
to repeat it. The little boy, if I remember, grew
up and went crazy. The guy said this was just
(15:35):
one version. She said, they are different versions. Sometimes the
lady lost a lover or her kid, or you know. Still,
it's a weird way to end the tour, right, I mean,
I mean, are you like that are you one of
(15:59):
them just passing through. It's like I'm talking to a record.
Look I'm not a superstitious guy. I'm not even religious.
I'm just old lady. I've been taking you along the
same route for decades. Every Christmas. Eve gave up asking
(16:20):
you the going rate. After the first few years, three
bucks didn't much with the inflation east days. You know,
I'm sorry, that's just a little joke. I make jokes
when I'm nervous. You know that, don't you. I just okay,
(16:41):
I'll be honest. You know, Mandy died years back. I
wish I could remember when cancer it was all riddled
through it like holes and Swiss cheese. I was wrecked,
but I still made it here. I still drove you
(17:03):
to your spot. I never asked you much, not much
at all. But I never let you down, and I
never sent anyone else to pick you up or started
asking questions. I've never even told anyone about you except
for Mandy, and she's she's gone. She's gone now. But
(17:32):
I did some digging after Mandy. You know, I had
nothing but time. Even when I was sure, I never
said anything. This is gonna be my last ride with you. Sarah.
That's you, isn't it. Sarah bowling Age went missing some
(17:58):
forty years ago. Now you'd be older and me these days.
I had no idea who you were for a long time,
a long time. But it is you, isn't it. Your
clothes haven't changed, you haven't aged to day. You show
(18:20):
up every year and we take the exact same route
to the exact same spot. You know, the police never
contacted me. Was it was that the last person to
see you alive? Was that something I could have done?
(18:44):
Haunts me? Lady for your words. I guess I look,
there was something I could do, something I could have done.
I'm sorry, truly, I didn't know. I suppose we passed
(19:06):
all that now. You know. The doctor, when I talked
to her earliest, she said that I got something called
Louis body dementia. She put it to me in Cabby terms.
She said, Ernie, if your brand was a city map,
the road signs are sort of in the wrong places.
Now my sleeps all weird. But this time next year,
(19:29):
I'd probably be in a home on the ground, depending
on how things play out. I hated you, you know
that for a long time. It don't make sense saying
it now, but I did. I hated you. Every year
the world took a little more from me, and every
(19:51):
year there you were, same age, same clothes, same conversation.
I don't even know if you remember me. There were
some Christmas Eves, especially right after Mandy died, where I
would think, what's the fucking point, you know, with the
(20:14):
point of it all? They got these ghost shows on
TV now where people make tons of money pretending to
talk to ghosts, And here I am. I meet you
once a year, and I could have made enough for
the hospital bills. Mandy could have been here now. So
(20:39):
I wanted to ask you, just this time, just this
last ride together. I wanted to ask you so many things.
Is she there, wherever it is you go when you
know you aren't here. I wanted to ask you if
(21:03):
you and I square, if you blame me for whatever happened.
More important, I wanted to tell you you're my best
friend nowadays, you and me, Well, you're the most meaningful
person in my life. And you know, I hope you
(21:28):
can appreciate the humor in it. All my other friends
that did long gone one way or another. I spend
these Christmas Is with you I worked the day like
any other. I wait until about eleven PM. I pick
you up at Piedmont, drive across town, and then I
(21:51):
turned around and drive back through the city. That late
I don't know if you noticed, but that late said
it's abandoned. There's something I don't know holy about abandoned places,
especially when they're built to have big groups of folks,
(22:14):
like an empty grocery store late at night with low
music playing one endless song droning into the night. The
city's like that. On Christmas Eve, you drive through downtown
and there's this this hush all across the streets and
(22:36):
boulevards and avenues, and it it hits you. This is
what people meant when they built cathedrals. The space of it,
the silence it holds you, wraps you up like a
soft blanket and you're safe. Like there's something good on
(22:56):
the way. Water at night, big water along the shore
with a big moon, like a silver coin. It makes
you think the morning worth waiting for. I wish you
(23:16):
could have seen it. We could have turned around and
just driven through it once, and then if you wanted,
I would have turned right back and drove you right
back here. We could have maybe going to a diner
and you could have talked with someone. Hell, I would
have woken Mandy up. Back then, the three of us
could have, I don't know, walked through the streets of
(23:38):
Uptown with all the Christmas lights. He would have liked
those that we could have said at the dinner, watching
the night run off in the dawn, I read somewhere.
That's all it takes. Sometimes, the right person walking by
the bridge, someone leaning out the window and asking what's
going on. There's this guy somewhere in China. He lost
(24:02):
someone and moved his whole restaurant to the bridge with
when she died, and he has a little I don't remember,
a little noodle shop at the bottom of the bridge,
so he can see if someone's about to jump, and
when he sees them, he runs straight up the bridge,
drops whatever he's doing, and he just talks to him.
(24:25):
A person's whole life can hinge on such tiny things.
I think most people, people your age, they end up
regretting those kinds of decisions. You have to be old,
you have to be tired, you have to get to
a point where you're not running away. It's just sort
(24:48):
of letting go Maybe that's where this whole thing is
in the end, Maybe this whole stupid life this it's
just holding something, loving it long enough, and handing it
to someone else when the time is done. It's like
a museum. Maybe you're stopping. You look at something and
(25:09):
you only see it because the people in front of
you moved on. If you love it, you move so
the people behind you can see it too. We have
to be sneaky around this part. You might not know it,
but the city has grown bigger and bigger over the years,
(25:32):
and this isn't exactly a public road anymore. Still, I
think security takes Christmas off. Look at this place, these
huge ships. Jesus, they're probably older than me. I'm tired.
I bet they are too. Do you ever get tired?
(25:57):
Do you know where you are and where you're going?
M Are you? I don't mean to be rude, but
are you still? Are you? Or are you? More like
a recording? Like a song played every year on some
sort of ghostly radio. That be a kicker, wouldn't it
(26:18):
a seventy year old man chatting away with the radio.
Do do you remember me? Come on? Like I said?
Three bucks in much these days? I can't remember if
I told you, but for years now I've just been
(26:39):
putting those half dollars in the glove box. Consider this
one on the house. I just I'm not sure how
to ask this. I got nothing now nothing, and maybe
I'm already crazy, like the dog says. But I wanted
(27:01):
to thank you, thank you for your company. You're the
only ghost I've ever met. You know that. I got
to say, You're not scary at all. How does the
story end for you? Where do you go? You know? After?
(27:25):
I'd like to look at the water? Is it okay
this time? If I go with you? If it is okay,
I think i'd like to look at the water too.
(27:51):
Where do you walk when you get out? I'd like
to see the other side. M h Maybe it is
everyone we met. Maybe they'll be saying, hey you again.
(28:27):
Ah ah, yes I've seen them. You have. Where is
she again? You need to be a little more specific.
Are you looking for Mandy or for Sarah? Mandy's here.
It's been a busy night. Are you gonna go upstairs?
(28:47):
Ernie Bannaker and all your questions will be answered? What's
where are we? What's up stairs? Many rooms? Ernie Bannaker.
There are many rooms. This key should fit into the
one you're looking for. Well, he seems ready to get
(29:13):
on with it. I hope he finds what he's looking for.
He will I do love when dissonance resolves itself. Speaking
of the devil, this should be interesting. Twelve Ghosts starring
(30:22):
Malcolm McDowell as the Innkeeper and Gina Rikiki as Annabelle.
Episode five You Again, written by Ben Boland with additional
writing by Nicholas Takowski. Editing by Chris Childs and Stephen Perez,
featuring Jay Jones as Ernie. Directed by Nicholas Takowski. Original
score and sound design by Chris Childs. Executive producers Aaron Mankey,
(30:47):
Matt Frederick, Alexander Williams and Nicholas Takowski. Supervising producer Josh Staine.
Producers Chris Childs and Stephen Perez. Casting by Sunday Bowling
C s A and Meg Wrman c s A. Production
coordinator Wayna Calderon. Recorded at Lantern Audio in Atlanta, Georgia,
engineered by Chris Gardner, Aeros Sound and Recording in Ojai, California.
(31:12):
Engineered by Ken Arrows. Twelve Ghosts was created by Nicholas
Takowski and is a production of I Heeart, three D
Audio and Grim and Mild from Aaron Manky. Learn more
about the show at Grim and Mild dot com and
find more podcasts from my Heart Radio by visiting the
i Heart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen
to your favorite shows.
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