Work Text:
CECIL: (ominously) This… is the ritual to lead you on. Your friends… will meet him while you. Are. Gone. Welcome to Night Vale.
[Intro music plays]
CECIL: (excitedly) Dear listeners, we have a very special guest in the studio today! Now, I'm not sure how he got here or where he came from, but I got a note from Station Management just before starting this broadcast that he is a famous novelist who writes scary detective books. I personally haven’t heard of him, probably because I don’t like to read scary things, but it is always exciting to meet a celebrity!
(disconcerted)
He is wandering around the building shouting for a woman called Alice and rummaging through my private filing cabinets. I should wrangle him in here so I can do an interview. But first, let’s take a look at the community calendar.
ALAN: (from another room) Alice?!
CECIL: (Reading) Monday night is famous actor Lee Marvin’s birthday! Now that time moves normally with the rest of the world, I have no idea how old he will be… But Happy Birthday nonetheless!
Tuesday is a crushed up ball of lint behind the entertainment center in your first apartment. So… probably best to stay home if you can on Tuesday.
Wednesday double booked itself with another day and is very apologetic about needing to cancel again. Shoot! My husband, Carlos, and I were going to try to run errands on Wednesday. I hope it gets things straightened out in time for next week.
ALAN: (from just outside the door of the booth) Scratch?? Where have you sent me you sadistic f[BLEEP]ck!
CECIL: (continuing without concern) On Thursday there will be a PTA meeting at the high school. The Glow Cloud—all hail—has not released an agenda yet but promised that we will know it when we see it.
Friday, City Council would like to remind everyone: “Dont do it. Don’t even think about it. You rascal, don’t! I’m warning you, remember what happened last time? Dooon’t do iiitt!”
Saturday, the Erikas are having a yard sale at the old car lot. But instead of them selling things to you, they will be swarming around passersby and each will ask for ten bucks before moving on to the next customer. Carlos and I are very excited to check it out!
And finally, Sunday is Halloween! Be sure to stock up on your candy and barricade supplies so that the Harbingers of the False Gods can’t get in and steal your children’s youth! I finally have the day off this year and I’m very excited to spend the night with Carlos while he introduces me to some scary science shows, like one called “Bill Nye, the Science Guy”!
(shivers)
Oof, I’m spooked already!
This has been The Community Calendar.
CECIL: (stepping away from the mic) Ok listeners, I am going to see if i can grab our guest and bring him into the booth. Give me one moment.
—
Cecil stood up from the worn wooden table in his booth. He carefully and soundlessly took off his headphones and placed them on the table. He huffed to himself in frustration. He had plans for today’s show, who the heck did this jerk think he was just appearing out of the shadows in the middle of a work day, and somehow sweet talking his way with Station Management into getting an interview? It was ridiculous and unprofessional.
Cecil shook the thoughts from his head and ran a hand through his hair. He stepped out into the hallway and followed the sounds of anxious pacing to the men’s washroom. There in one of the stalls, staring at the full grown kitten Mixtape, stood Alan Wake. He looked terrible. It was a good thing this was a radio show and not TV.
Cecil cleared his throat as he approached, hoping to not startle the already frazzled looking man. “Uh, Mr. Wake, is it? Alan? I’m Cecil, the host of the show. I just came to let you know Im ready for our impromptu interview. If you would follow me back to the booth?” Cecil motioned back down the hall from where he had just come.
Alan eyed him suspiciously before stepping closer to Cecil, not to follow though, but to interrogate. “Where is Alice? Are you working with Scratch? Did he put you up to this? Are you trapped in the lake too?” Alan looked like a cornered animal even as he tried to get into Cecil’s face. His questions were deranged and incoherent.
Oh god, Cecil thought in annoyance, some idiot in the secret police put Alan in the brainwa– reeducator machine for too long. His brain was fried.
Cecil walked back towards the broadcast room, and Alan followed with a new barrage of inane questions. “Interview? Here? Where the hell even are we? Is Door behind this?”
Cecil sighed, trying to keep his patience and professionalism intact. “No, Mr. WAke, but behind this door is where I will be interviewing you for my radio listeners. They are anxiously waiting to hear from you.”
Alan cautiously entered the room behind Cecil.
—
CECIL: (Enthused) My apologies for the moment of dead air there, listeners. Ha ha. I assure you the wait is worth it though because now, in the booth with me is the famed author I told you about! It's Alan Wake!
(Thunderous ethereal applaus)
ALAN: (too close to the mic) What the [BLEEP]ck?
CECIL: (leaned away from mic) Uh Alan, can I call you Alan? Um, this is a public, family friendly show, would you mind the swearing, please?
ALAN: Oh, right, sorry.
CECIL: No worries! Anxiety is normal and expected when doing radio interviews! Anyways, for those who may not be familiar with you or your work (unlike me I know practically everything there is to know), please introduce yourself!
ALAN: (timidly) Uhm, my name is Alan Wake. I’m a writer.
(Applaus returns and quickly retreats)
What the hell is that? Where is it coming from?!
CECIL: Fascinating stuff! We certainly have lots to discuss, and I have some fan submitted questions for you too, but first let’s take a look at traffic.
ALAN: (confused) What is happening? This isn’t how you do a f[BLEEP]ng interview!
CECIL: (low monotone)
I came looking for my princess
Instead I found a witch wearing her face
No one in the family
Had noticed the change
She said:
“She becomes me.”
Through all the wicked things she did
To me, her beauty kept me in a daze
I stared at her adoringly and forgot how she used to be
As she tortured me for days and days
She said:
“She becomes me.”
Isn’t it strange that with every wound
She’s caused her beauty in the mirror fades
I hear she’s already looking for another pretty girl
To put on in the old one’s place
She said:
“She becomes me.”
We’re both so thin
We wear our skeletons on the outside
She becomes me
(normal voice)
This has been Traffic.
ALAN: That… wasn’t a traffic report. That was a poem from Thomas Zane. What kind of show is this again?
(eldritch gurgling)
ALAN: WHAT THE [BLEEP]?!
CECIL: (calmly) Alan, please. Calm down and watch your language.
(clears throat)
Dear listeners, I have just received a note from Station Management. They would like to remind everyone that, quote
(putting on a voice)
“The views and language expressed by Mr. Alan Wake do not represent the views of Night Vale Public Radio. And to Mr. Wake: we thought you were gonna be more chill than this.”
ALAN: What? What does that mean?
CECIL: (continuing) “But it turns out you are just a rich jerk just like the rest of your wretched literary ilk. If you cannot adjust your attitude and trust the process, we will be forced to make Adjustments.”
End quote.
ALAN: (close to mic) Listen, Station Management. I don’t know you, and you sure as hell don’t know me. I still don’t know if this is some kind of sick trick to mess with me, or even how I even ended up in this twisted freaking station with your monster cats floating in the bathroom. I do know this though: you can get bent and go f[BLEEP] yourself–
(eldritch growling and movement begins from the story above)
–if you think I’m going to allow myself to be spoken to like that by someone who doesn't have the stones to say it to my face! And I’ll tell you something else you mother-
CECIL: (sighs, holding back anger) Dear listeners, lets go to the weather.
—
(Balance Slays the Demon By Old Gods Of Asgard starts playing)
Alan had stood from the table during his ranting at Station Management. He had thrown his headphones across the booth, hitting some old framed picture from before Cecil’s time. In the chaos of Alan’s pacing and shouting, Cecil noticed the screen of his phone silently light up with a text. It was from his niece Janice. She was asking to see if he could possibly get an autograph from the writer because she was a fan of his “true fiction” series (whatever the heck that meant) but she understood, given how the interview was going, if he couldn’t get one for her. A new wave of anger crashed through Cecil, not only was this clown of a radio guest unprofessional and rude, he was disappointing Cecil’s beloved niece! That would not go unpunished.
Cecil calmly stood up as Alan made his way into the hall. As Alan stepped out of the booth into the next room, Cecil called after him. His voice became drawn out and deepened with each syllable.
“Alannn WaaAKE, WAAIIIT.”
Alan turned back, face contorted in anger and frustration. However, as he beheld Cecil’s shifting form, all that melted away into awe and fear. The normally closed third eye tattoo on Cecil’s forehead was open wide and glowing with purple flame, matching the two eyes below it. Gore covered antlers had sprouted from his temples and wrapped around to the back of his head like an ornate interlocking crown of dripping viscera. The tattooed tentacles that ran the length of his arms began to glow and peel away from his skin, becoming three dimensional. They gathered along Cecil's back, some whipping around in agitation and some waved peacefully on a non-existent breeze.
The look on Alan’s face was one of abject horror as Cecil’s warm and gentle smile stretched, widening from ear to ear. There was a creaking and popping and cracking as Cecil's jaws expanded, and too many teeth filled the growing void of his mouth.
Cecil took a step closer to Alan and loomed over him, like a predator cornering its prey. In a fractured and echoing voice he said, “We haven’t finished our interview yet. And my niece Janice would like an autograph, if that’s ok. She is a fan of Departure and Initiation, and she is really looking forward to Return.”
Alan just stared back at him, open mouthed and frozen to the spot. For a horror writer, this guy didn’t know what true horror even was. What an idiot!
A comfrortable silence had fallen over the studio. Cecil was satisfied that he had made his point and turned back to the booth, shifting quickly into a more human shape as he sat down at the table. He looked over his shoulder to see if Alan had followed. He hadn't, so Cecil beckoned him back in the booth.
—
(Balance Slays the Demon fades out)
CECIL: (upbeat) I would like to apologize, dear listeners, on behalf of my guest’s unprofessional behavior, crass language, and the bleeping that happened to cover up Mr. Wake’s crass language. I’m not sure where that came from. But, it did spare younger audience members from hearing how to pronounce fuck before they should. So that’s a plus!
(seriously)
Now, during the weather, Alan and I had a talk and we came to an understanding. I will finish this interview on the air for you all, and in exchange, he will sign my niece Janice’s copy of Departure before he departs back to wherever he came from! Oh, Janice is going to be so excited! Guess who just won the uncle of the year award, ha!
(to Alan)
We are short on time, let’s do some rapid fire questions! Is that alright Alan?
ALAN: I, uh, I guess so?
CECIL: Wonderful!! Ok, first question. Who are you?
ALAN: I’ve answered this! My name is Alan Wake. I’m a writer!
CECIL: Right, sorry. Moving on! What are you doing here, INTERLOPER?!
ALAN: Fu– What? I don’t know. I was looking for my wife, Alice. I need to sa–
CECIL: Next, who is your celebrity crush?
ALAN: Uhm, Sam Lake?
CECIL: That’s hot. What is your favorite color?
ALAN: Uhh Blue. No, Green!
CECIL: Hate that for you. And that’s all we have time for! That was fun, we should do this with more guests! Thank you Alan for your time –
(the sound of crashing waves approaches, growing louder)
And I wish you luck on your journey! Oh my goodness, listeners, there are what appear to be incorporeal ocean waves crashing through the studio! Nothing is being moved or seems to be getting wet, but Alan Wake is being dragged out of the room by a strange current.
(ocean sounds recede and end)
And the door just shut behind him. Well, that was odd, and honestly a little rude. I was going to ask if he wanted to go out with Carlos and I after we’re done with work. I suppose that’s just how famous writers are. They show up out of nowhere for an interview, throw a fit when it doesn’t go their way, and then ride an ethereal ocean current out of the studio before giving you an autograph for your neice. Don’t meet your idols that you just found out existed this morning, or however the saying goes. I may need to borrow some of his books from Janice just to see how scary they really are. He seemed kinda like a wimp to be honest. I don’t think he knows a thing about true horror. I’ll ask her later for her recommendations. Oh, we could start a book club! I bet Tamika Flynn would have a lot of fun things to say!
Stay tuned next: a worm through time, a hardboiled egg, and something about oranges.
Goodnight Night Vale, Goodnight.
(outro music plays)