Alabaster Catz is a monthly theatrical storytelling podcast that features tales of dark fiction. Each episode explores the world of the cute and the macabre, the creepy and the quaint, the sad and the strange. A reminder that the best stories are the ones we tell in the dark.
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A cute and macabre tale about a Familiar who wants nothing more than to make his witch smile.
Concerned that he's fallen out of favor, he dedicates himself to performing the same tasks each day in an attempt to please her. But when the other Familiars portend a dark omen, he discovers the truth behind his ritual.
Good evening, I'm Alabaster Catz. And it's time for another tale to tell in the dark. Welcome to the show. It's been a while since my last visitation. But like all things that haunt us, we always come back. It's a ritual, something we do often and in a particular order. You sit in your chair, turn down the lights, turn up your audio, and invite the shadows to entertain you. But how many times does a ritual need to be performed before it becomes something else? A habit. A passion. An obsession. And that brings us to tonight's story. The idea that something can be repeated so often, that we forget why we do it. And when we remember, it's not for the reason we thought it was. So join me as we cuddle with the cute and the macabre and explore a Familiar's ritual, and his devotion to his witch. Once again, it's time to grab a drink, dim the lights and let your imagination be possessed. The show's about to begin. Forever Vellichor By Alabaster Catz Deep in a forest that has no name, beyond the tallest trees and the oldest ferns, lies a crumbling hut made of branches and bones. And should you peek through the lens of a broken window, you'd see a room filled with books, and a little gray mouse nestled on the sleeve of a woman in black. Now, unlike other witches, the woman in black didn't care for casting spells or brewing potions. Her passion was found elsewhere. Somewhere between the strings of her guitar and the pages of an empty book. For when it came to magic, hers took the form of music before it was written on paper. Needless to say she was odd for a witch. So it came as no surprise that out of all the creatures in the forest, she chose a mouse to be her Familiar. She named him Vellichor because she liked the smell of books. And while he wasn't a swift as a bat, or clever, like a rat, he was the master of all things small. Whether it was a quill that needed finding, or a page that needed turning, Vellichor was always there. And although it was within her right to do so his witchtress never asked him for the world, only to fetch the little things within it. In exchange. All he asked was that she reward him with a smile, something she was already quite fond of doing. For many moons Vellichor served his witch. He nibbled the threads that hung to her clothes, hunted the buttons that fell into cracks and dusted the cobwebs that covered her books. And at the end of each day because he cared for her so he would brew her special cup of tea made from berries and pine. Then one night while nestled on her sleeve, his witchtress woke him with a list of things she needed him to do. So with a deep breath, she parted her pale lips and began to sing.
The Witch:
Kind and gentle Vellichor, there's many things to do. They're tiny but important, so very much like you. Go fetch some twigs and sticks of wood to weather out the storm for when I leave our cozy hut, I'd like it to be warm. Next gather herbs like Pearl Moss and scented sprigs of Cypress, spread the first upon our step and hang the second lifeless. Then light candles near my books that lie upon the table for should I slumber while I read, you'll find that I'm unable. A final thing please keep it clean the hat that I adore, for just like it, with you I'll sit, forever Vellichor.
Alabaster Catz:
The next morning Vellichor set off to accomplish the tasks he was given. The first of which was to fetch some twigs and sticks of wood to weather out the storm, for when his witchtress leaves her hut, she'd like it to be warm. Venturing deep into the forest, he came upon a great tree that was home to several crows. He bowed to the crows as was customary amongst Familiars, and asked if they would let him collect the sticks around the base of the tree. The crows cackled at the thought of a tiny mouse gathering sticks and agreed, so long as they could watch. Bowing once again Vellichor began to drag away the heavy sticks one at a time, as the crows watched and laughed overhead. Second on his list was to gather herbs like Pearl Moss and scented sprigs of Cypress and spread the first upon their step and hang the second lifeless. Following a path that only woodland creatures know, he arrived at a pond where chorus of frogs croaked from their lily pads. He bowed to his peers and asked if he could gather the herbs by the water's edge. The frogs barked with anger at the thought of a little mouse digging up their pond, but agreed, so long as he didn't take more than he needed. Nodding in thanks Vellichor began to dig up his herbs as the frogs grumbled in protest around him. By late afternoon, Vellichor returned home to find his witchtress hunched over the pages of an open book. With dusk fast approaching, he proceeded to his third task, which was to light the candles near her books that lie upon the table. For should she slumber while she reads, he'd find that she's unable. Climbing up to the tables surface, he weaved through a maze of leather bound tomes until he reached a set of melted candles. Then, taking the match from his teeth, he lit the wicks and the room began to glow with a comfortable light. For his last task, he was to do one final thing to keep it clean, the hat that she adores, for just like it with him she'll sit, forever Vellichor. Looking around the room, he found it lying on the floor next to her. Climbing down from the table, he brushed off the dust and primped its short cone before chasing the spiders that made it their home. After all of his tasks were completed, he ended the evening the same way he had done each night before. He brewed her a special cup of tea made from berries and pine. However, when he looked up at his witchtress to receive a smile, he instead saw a frown. Wounded by the notion that he had upset his witch, he nestled onto her sleeve and fell sadly asleep. Upon morning's arrival, Vellichor woke to find his witchtress once again hunched over the pages of an open book. Determined to make her smile, he set out to redo the tasks she had given him the day before. He approached the great tree and bowed to the crows, but instead of laughter, he was met with whispers. Words like danger, beware, and death rustled through the leaves. Unsure as to the reason for their warning, he quickly collected his sticks and left them to their omens. Later Vellichor arrived at the hidden pond where he bowed to the frogs as he had done many times before. But instead of barks he was met with silence. They stared at him from afar, motionless like graveyard statues. Confused as to the reason for their distance, he quickly gathered his herbs and left them to their silent watch. Upon returning to the hut, he climbed onto the table where he lit the candles near his witchtress's books before hopping down onto the floor to clean her precious hat. And at the end of the night, he brewed her a cup of his special tea and looked for a smile that never came. Many seasons had passed since he'd last seen his witchtress smile, but for Vellichor each day remained the same. The collecting of sticks, the gathering of herbs, the lighting of candles, and the cleaning of a hat. Then one night, after brewing his special tea, he looked up at her face and saw a wide, toothy smile. Squeaking with joy, Vellichor raced around the table, darting in whatever direction his excitement led him. But when he finally stopped, he began to wonder about a few curious things. Like why the need for twigs and sticks to weather out the storm, despite the fact that inside their hut his witch is never warm? And what's the point of Pearl Moss and scented sprigs of Cypress, when never once did they bring her luck, or ease her soul in crisis? Why light the candles near her books that lie upon the table, when all she does is stare at them, and never add a label? And then he grins as he recalls his witch's boney gaze, for he's the reason crows whisper warnings and frogs watch all his days. And so he'll preen and keep it clean. The hat that's on the floor until he finds another witch to drink his deadly tea once more.
The Witch:
Finally please keep it clean, the hat that I adore. For just like it with you I'll sit forever Vellichor.
Alabaster Catz:
That concludes our show for the evening. Thank you for joining us, and I hope you enjoyed my presence in the room. Next time, we'll slip into the sad and the strange as we learn about a merchant who sells the items of your demise. If you liked what you heard tonight, be sure to follow the Alabaster Catz podcast, or visit us at alabastercatz.com for some more borrowed time. Once again, thank you for joining us. I'm alabaster Catz. And remember, the best stories are the ones we tell in the dark. Special things to tonight's musical talent Martha Goddard for her arrangement and performance of"The Witch's Song"
