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