My Podcast

Within an hour or so, I had settled into simple acceptance. This was my life now, sharing a room with a demon. So be it. That’s just how it is. It’s not the worst thing that’s happened in 2020. I didn’t think anyone would believe me, but I tried to talk about it anyway. When I video chatted with Mum, she just laughed, thinking I was telling a weird story; as if I’d have any creativity left to take up writing alongside everything else going on. I couldn’t show her Kazzifrezz because he’d shrunk back down to hide in the ashes, but perhaps it was best for her not to believe it anyway. She would only worry and shout at me for even considering keeping it around. She said she loves how creative I am. I wish I was - artistic certainly, but demonic horror tales? Not my strong suit. I’m flattered that she thought I could have invented all this since yesterday’s call.

My friend Sumaya didn’t believe me either, but she did give me a good idea when she told me “it sounds like one of those weird podcasts that nerds on the internet like.” - her words, not mine. I had already bought a decent microphone with the intent of making pottery videos and then abandoned that idea with all the rest. So why not use the equipment to make a podcast about an ashtray demon instead? I didn’t expect anyone to listen, but it could be like one of my journals but in public audio form instead of private written form. I started writing scripts that same afternoon. I didn’t really know anything about podcasting, so the first drafts weren’t good, but I had a lot of fun writing it. It was a long, rambly monologue - very much a messy train of thought rather than a coherent script. Then I had a ridiculous idea. What if I got Kazzifrezz involved? What if I interviewed him and recorded it? I’d get to share this crazy secret with the world but since everyone would assume it was someone voice acting, it wouldn’t exactly be risking dangerous or private information getting out. I’d ask him if he was willing first, of course. Even demons deserved that basic courtesy.

I took to carrying the ashtray from room to room as I went about my daily chores and hobbies. I didn’t particularly want to have a demon by my side all day but 1) if he was here for the foreseeable future I might as well get accustomed to his presence and 2) I didn’t trust him unsupervised for too long at a time. He got loud and grumpy without someone to growl vague nightmare-based threats at. It took about two weeks to get entirely used to his presence. I would never have imagined it to happen so fast. In fact, I would never have imagined ever being used to having a demon around, but humans (even ones like me) are adaptable creatures. Demons are too, I observed, for Kazzifrezz seemed to settle in comfortably to our routines. He even tolerated my system of choosing the placement of his ashtray so that he could only eat dreams every second night.

When I finally got round to asking him about the podcast (and explained what a podcast is), he agreed without hesitation, stating that it was “the prime opportunity to sow the seeds of unimaginable dread and misery that would soon grow into nightmares most bleak and vile for every listener.” If he’d put less needless dramatism into the statement, I might have believed he could do it.

As soon as we were sat at the desk, Kazz started yelling away, trying to intimidate the listeners - it took several minutes to calm him down and explain that I needed to press record first and that I would edit out anything too evil. I then had to explain the general concepts of the audio recording and editing process. After that, things were calm, and we could begin.

“Welcome to the Charlotte Ransome Pottery Hour. I’m your host, Charlotte Ransome. Each episode, I’m going to talk about what I made that month and speak to some special guests. This month, I finally emerged from a long period of creative block and low motivation. I wanted to ease myself back into the craft with something simple - no fancy urns and vases, just a few basic ashtrays. Now, you may wonder why I feel the need to make a whole podcast episode about some ash trays - that’s hardly artisanal pottery, is it? Well, you see, the thing is: One of those ashtrays is possessed.”

I added some theme music after the intro - a royalty free acoustic guitar track I found online. I didn’t exactly have any budget for music. That first episode began with me retelling my first encounter with Kazzifrezz, much like you have already read above.

Continuing from there, I said, “and after that rocky start, we actually ended up getting along quite well. So well, in fact, that he agreed to come and talk to you all tonight. I made him promise not to corrupt your minds with dark demonic words, but nonetheless, listener discretion is advised. As a precaution, I advise that you place three drops of holy water in each ear. Now, let’s begin. Kazz, would you like to introduce yourself?”

“I am Kazzifrezz the Vile, Lord of Nightmares, Feaster of Dreams, Prince of a Thousand Curses, Corrupter of a Thousand Minds!”

“Oh, you added titles since you introduced yourself to me?”

“I was in a hurry before. There wasn’t time for it all. These potential victims - I mean, listeners - deserve the full title!”

“So if you’re a prince, are your parents the monarchs?” I asked. “Do nightmare demons even have parents?”

“No, look, in the demonic tongue it sounds better. I have to approximate the nearest thing.”

“Ah, well ‘Lord’ isn’t that high of a title really. Couldn’t you call yourself an earl or archduke or something?”

“It’s not as catchy. Actually, maybe I’ll use archduke, that one’s quite- Grr, Shut up! I’m not going to invoke any agonising nightmares if all I get to do is justify my title!”

“Well that brings us to my first planned question - what are your favourite dreams to consume, bearing in mind that this is a PG13 podcast?”

He mumbled in deep thought for a moment, and then said, “Well you can’t go wrong with a good flaying. ‘Chased by monsters’ is a good one. ‘Teeth falling out’ is a little bland, but my doctor says it’s an important part of a balanced diet - if I only ever ate eye-gouging nightmares I could end up quite unhealthy…”

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“I didn’t realise demons could get ill.”

“Well, not too ill to inflict eternal misery on all your puny mortal listeners! Don’t get complacent! My vile hand of darkness reaches out towards you as we speak!”

“He’s flailing ineffectually at the microphone, as if he believes he can reach through it and out of your speakers like in a cartoon.”

“HEY! Don’t speak about me while I’m right here!”

“So if there are nightmare demon doctors, is there a whole nightmare demon medical school too? Honestly, you sound a lot less scary with that context.”

“NO! There is an evil nightmare school where we-”

“Learn to inflict the agony of a thousand knives to the skin or something equally ridiculous? Yes, we get the idea. Let’s get back on topic. Tell me about your arrival and first impressions of the mortal world.”

“Well, I have to admit I quite like it here. The lack of hourly psychic pain-storms gets me down from time to time, but I get my own ashtray. Charlotte kindly offered to let me feast on her dreams. She lets me join her in her workshop.”

I chuckled and smiled at that. He noticed.

He instantly changed his tone back to normal. “But she’s still a useless mortal! Her dreams are okay, but not nearly enough gore and existential dread in them. Why even dream about some friend you haven’t seen since childhood? I’m doing all I can to instill sickening dreams of the most vile ordeals, but nothing seems to stick.”

“I thought you’d know more about why people dream what they dream than I do.”

“Well, yes, I know why in metaphysical terms, I’m not an idiot, but there’s always another layer of “why?” - why are the laws of dreamspace metaphysics that way? There are some things we just aren’t meant to know.”

“Sounds awfully human of you, getting caught up in the incomprehensibility of reality and all. We do that all the time. Maybe we’re not so different.”

“How dare you compare me, an archduke of nightmares, in all my nightmarish majesty, to humans! I experience reality on a whole different level to you. My spirit transcends all mortal boundaries, reaching nightmares in all worlds and-”

“Sorry to cut you off, but you couldn’t even eat my dreams from across the room. You insisted I put you back next to the bed. You can’t even leave the ashtray. How can you say you transcend all mortal boundaries when you’re basically just stuck there?”

He fumed angrily, giving no response. I had to pause the recording for a few minutes until he huffed it out.

“And we’re back. Kazzifrezz the Vile has calmed down, and we can continue the interview. Kazz, many of our listeners don’t know much, or anything, really, about demons. If it’s not too impolite for me to ask, could you tell us a bit about demon life cycles?”

“We coalesce in the fires of oblivion, born from mortal torment and terror. None of that stuff you dreamed about the other day. Disgusting! It must be so restrictive to need a whole process for reproduction instead of just spawning from the natural torturous energies of reality. It’s frankly a miracle your species has made it this far. None of the others did.”

“Others?”

“Yes. Did you think you were the only intelligent species out there? I’ve eaten the dreams of a sentient goo monster from a hundred lightyears away. Can’t say I recommend it. Anyway, they all died in a space war, so back to human dreams for most of us.”

“That’s a shame, but I bet the war made for some good dreams before all the mutually assured destruction kicked in?”

“Unfortunately space-goo dreams always taste of space-goo, however much trauma and horror is baked into them. There’s a lot to hate about humans, but you can’t deny they have some of the most digestible dreams.”

“When you say digestible, do you mean… uh… do the dreams you eat… come out again?”

“Are you asking if I poop?”

“In other words, yes.”

“Not in the way you do, but yes we do expel psychic energy when we’ve extracted all the good bits.”

“I won’t ask for details. How long since you coalesced in the fires of oblivion?”

“Time works differently there. You don’t have the right numbers to explain it.”

I shrugged. “Fair enough, how about a more general approach then? Are you considered young, old, or neither by your fellow nightmare spirits?”

“Slightly younger than average, I guess. But still an age incomprehensible to the likes of you, so don’t underestimate me!”

“I’m not sure if I could. Do you have dreams of your own?”

“I do not sleep so no.”

“Uh, I’ll ignore the fact that I’ve literally seen you sleep many times. Carry on.”

“…but if you mean dreams as in aspirations, yes, I intend to shroud this entire world in a blood-mooned night of trials and torments.”

“I’d rather you didn’t do that.”

“I’m going to wait until they invent cryo-sleep first, the day-night cycle is too short. Dreams are always over before the best bits. I once fed on the dreams of someone in a coma - it was glorious.” A speck of ember-orange drool dripped from his mouth, vanishing before it hit the ground. “You always wake up at the part where you would die, but this person had to keep sleeping and dreaming it, over and over for thirty years.”

“And then what happened?”

“He woke up.”

“And he couldn’t remember any of the dreams?”

“Well no, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t have them.”

“As far as he’s concerned he didn’t. I’d love to know more, but unfortunately, Kazz, we’re running out of time. Do you have any parting words for the listeners?”

He began an ominous demonic chant, which I drowned out with the outro music (also royalty-free). The music fell quiet again for my closing words.

“Thank you for listening to episode one of the Charlotte Ransome Pottery Hour. I’ve been Charlotte Ransome, and talking to me this month was Kazzifrezz the Vile, Lord of Nightmares. Tune in again next month to find out what I get up to between now and then.”

Kazz interrupted, yelling, “Thanks for listening, and hellish nightmares to you all!”

And finally, the music volume rose again, drawing everything to an end.

The first episode was a success. It received about a hundred plays, making it a hundred times more successful than I predicted. Since accidentally summoning Kazz into this world, I was hesitant to make anything else. Now I suddenly found myself eagerly awaiting the possibility to see what else I’d have to talk about on the podcast. There were some items nearly ready for the kiln. Maybe I’d have someone else to talk to soon. Maybe it was just the monotony of lock-down getting to me. There was no sane reason to be excited for the prospect of more demons - for all I knew Kazzifrezz the Vile might be an outlier and every other demon would live up to their horrific titles. Maybe the next one really would be an existential threat to our mortal realm that could unleash true horror upon us. I should have been terrified - and after a few moments riding the high of the podcast’s success, I was.

I felt my eagerness slip away. I didn’t want to make anything. I wanted my old normal life back, or I wanted to wrap myself up under blankets and hide. But on the other hand, part of normal life was making pots. And I’d be damned if I let the fear of hell hold me back from that. Perhaps ‘damned’ was a poor choice of words given the circumstances.

I loaded the kiln anyway, against my own better judgement.