Greetings and welcome, dear citizens of Elysium. You are listening to Elysium Public Radio. I am your host, Asteria Blackwell, and this is Stories from the Lost Library. Now, before we begin, we always start with a warning, and yes, I realize the irony, for in the golden days we would always start with an honored prayer to the muses for a memorable tale. But in these modern times, warnings have replaced prayers and our lawyers are insistent. So take this warning as our opening prayer.
Asteria Blackwell:This library, these stories, this missive, this community is a safe and sacred space. Keep all swords, daggers, poison, ignorance and hate to yourself, for they have no place here. We are all seeking peace and softness. There will be no tolerance for hateful words and comments. There will be no tolerance for hateful words and comments, general rudeness, patriarchal and colonialist attitudes and those afflicted with the disorder of having their mouth be larger than their brains. There is no guarantee every story here will be a happy one. In fact, some will be downright awful, or the muses forbid boring. But what you consider boring and awful may not be to someone else. That is the nature of storytelling. Not every story is for you.
Asteria Blackwell:I am High Priestess of these hallowed halls. I am King of this space. My word is law, and the law is that all are welcome here, and I truly mean all, every gender, every race, every background and every inclination. If you cannot abide by my laws, then please go roll in the mud with the rest of the pigs somewhere else. As for the rest of us, welcome. You were meant to find your way here. Now, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking Asteria,
Asteria Blackwell:"How can you tell stories from the Elysian library? It's been lost for ages, eons, and I say, yes, yes, you're correct, but I am thrilled to announce that our lost library has finally been found. I, along with the line of library priestesses who came before me, have hunted in vain until now. Yes, neighbors, you heard me correctly. The long, long search is over. What many have claimed was nothing more than a myth or a figment of someone's dreams has been located Now, as you will recall from your unabridged history of the Elysian Fields that everyone receives upon settling here, our magnificent library was dreamt into being by Athena herself.
Asteria Blackwell:Here in these verdant lands, Athena, the great goddess of wisdom, stopped for a rest along our golden shores when she came in secret to visit her former lover, Medusa the Gorgon. Those poor dears. They had such a terrible falling out and the goddess did some very bad things and found herself suddenly terribly sorry. Now you must understand that Athena prides herself on being independent, always being in control and never showing weakness of any kind. But when those two broke it off, the great goddess may have lost her mind and done some very unkind things that she could not take back.
Asteria Blackwell:It's hard to be so alone as Athena had always been, to be so alone as Athena had always been, and then suddenly find oneself full of something as mundane as feelings. And well, it certainly had her out of sorts. Not that that is an excuse for what she did, but she is a child of Zeus and sometimes the father's personality comes through. Sometimes the father's personality comes through. But as Athena wandered here in Elysium searching for forgiveness that she did not know how to ask for, she was very much still out of sorts. One evening she came across a lovely olive tree and sat down to rest. As she stared up at the roving stars, singing the ancient songs of the world, she fell into a deep sleep there. The apology she could not voice sprang up unbidden and into life as the most magnificent library in any of the worlds, living or dead. It was a very Athena move.
Asteria Blackwell:The library came into being complete with every book and scroll and story known to have been written or spoken, and every story untold. It housed forests of trees and countless animals that held tales of their own. For the library was half tree and half marble, with snakes carved in lentils and stars shining inside. It was magnificently grand right from the beginning, a liminal sacred space. Learners of all kinds, even women, much to the dismay of the men in the Agora, were welcomed immediately into the hallowed halls. It is said that when the men in the living world heard of it, they grew jealous and began to construct
Asteria Blackwell:Day by day, the library drew those who worshipped the act of learning. Most of them dead, yes, but a surprisingly ambitious few living ones as well, and the shelves grew and expanded with each passing day. No one could ever get an accurate count of how far it stretched, for it kept doubling in size every few turns of the moon. The first librarian was a fierce young lady named Cassandra, who eventually just gave up and stopped trying to quantify what could not be quantified. For eons, the library served as a beacon of knowledge. It survived everything from fire to plague and even a run-in with a giant ark that washed down across the Elysian Fields after that ragtag group of pagans angered their god again, but the library survived until the great earthquake.
Asteria Blackwell:In the hours of dawn on one ordinary Autumnlong day, a massive earthquake shattered Elysium in two, with half of the city forcibly pushed up into the living world and the other half sinking further down into the shadowed realms of the underworld. Elysium changed forever. In that moment, the living souls who had settled above suddenly found themselves in the Underworld, and many of the Underworld beings suddenly realized they could walk above ground once more, and thousands of people began to move back and forth over the rubble as they pleased, without need of an escort into the underworld, without the trials of a journey to the underworld, without sneaking by Cerberus and without a passport. In the ensuing chaos, right after the earthquake, the priestess Daphne, who had become priestess after Cassandra, realized that our library had disappeared. Her diary says there was no debris where the library stood, but it was as if the entire building had picked itself up and run away. Which, dear friends, is exactly what happened. The library, in a moment of uncharacteristic panic, picked itself up, ran away on its fuzzy little owl legs and slipped into a crack in the fabric of space-time and promptly got lost.
Asteria Blackwell:And this loss has been incredibly painful for the citizens of this land to bear. Yes, we have since built the finest Amphitheater which holds wonderful performances of songs and tragedies, and yes, we've built the largest Agora in all of the Underworld, but that's been closed off just to members of the Elysian Senate who, to their detriment, are just men. And some of you will also mention the rather overstated buildings called churches found on the living side of town, which have been constructed by groups of rather determined Christian colonists. But those men are in even worse shape than the ones who frequent the Agora. Those structures could never compare to the heart of Elysium, which was now gone and we were the poorer for it. Although I am certain the men of the Christian colonists and the Elysian Senate will beg to differ rather loudly, as they usually do. Now, every priestess of the library has not broken nor wavered.
Asteria Blackwell:In our search to locate it, we have roamed endlessly, wading through muck and brush, whistling and calling, only to hear silence or an occasional rude epithet in return. But, dear listeners, do you know where our lost, misplaced library found itself after it slipped through the cracks? It wound up in the Mirkwood Forest on the other side of Tartarus. Wound up in the Mirkwood Forest on the other side of Tartarus. It had a vague idea where it was, but it was most certainly lost and scared, the poor thing. It had been there all of this time.
Asteria Blackwell:A few years ago, while I was searching through the forest west of Valhalla which friends is as rowdy as a place as you can imagine. Which friends is as rowdy as a place as you can imagine I did try to stay out of the way there, but the music was so loud and they had gym equipment and beer horns spread everywhere. It was a mess. Anyway, one day, a lovely luna moth, this beautiful pink and green luminous, being landed on my arm, her antennae waved and the moth floated around me. And one does what one should do when such a guide appears, and that is to follow them. I became good friends with that dear luna moth. She would not tell me her name, for she said she was in a witness protection program and hiding from an overzealous god. So I just called her Luna, and she was the most lovely traveling companion past the remains of Herculaneum, over the River Styx, past that fetid swampland of the Acheron and the cicada-filled Cocytus Rivers, through the remnants of the great city of Troy, past Tartarus and then, after a pause in Atlantis, finally into the Mirkwood Forest, where the ghosts of the giant redwoods tower up through the living world and brush the underside of the clouds. It is a breathtaking place and I hope that everyone can visit at least once in their lives.
Asteria Blackwell:In the deepest part of the Mirkwood Forest, we stumbled upon a lake that was not marked on any map that we possessed, either human or moth. This lake was as wide as the sea, a still flat mirror, and the stars shone back on themselves, dancing in secret combinations. Thousands of fireflies flashed from an overgrown island far out in the middle of the water. Like a stream of stars, they flew across the still waters and swirled around me and Luna and directed us to a small boat made of bark. I rowed us across those waters with the fireflies lighting the way, red gleaming eyes under the surface of the water watched us every moment and I was rather glad to be on solid ground. I would say that if you do visit Markwood Forest, maybe just stick to the beaches.
Asteria Blackwell:But once we stepped on this island we began to hear voices, and not a voice like I am speaking to you now, but rather a whisper, a rustle of leaves passing from one tree to another. The fireflies led us forward on and on until we reached a clearing. There we found the most magnificent scene, illuminated by a million fireflies. It was our library, pale and healthy and in deep conversation, with a crystal book and a large, ghostly white sycamore tree. The library recognized me at once from my snake brooch, the sigil of the priestesses of the library, and it was very glad to have finally been found, been found. We soon discovered that the magnificent Sycamore had taken guardianship of the lost library and kept tender care for all of these eons. The crystal book had also found its way here from other distant lands, but its keepers had not found their way here yet, had not found their way here yet.
Asteria Blackwell:After a few days of rest and lovely conversations, the time came to leave. More than a few tears were shed between the sycamore and the library, and I rather say our library is more tree than not these days, but that's not a bad thing at all. What is important is that it was cared for, and we owe a great debt to the citizens of the Mirkwood Forest. Our journey back to Elysium took much longer, but that is to be expected when towing a library home. There were only a handful of accidents. I will say we may have to replace Charon's boat and I don't think we can ever go back over the Acheron without being hacked apart by the beasts there. But what's done is done and all is right with the world again.
Asteria Blackwell:And so here we are speaking to you, our dear Elysian neighbors, from our great library hall, using this broadcast to relight the torches of learning and knowledge that have long been extinguished. You may also ask, Asteria, why are you telling all of this via a radio broadcast? Why are you not using rhapsodos, those lovely singers of woven words? And there is that newspaper thing floating around on the living side of town. Or you could always just have a man speak the this tale in the Agora on your behalf, and to that I say over my dead body will I hand these stories over to anyone else, most especially a man.
Asteria Blackwell:We citizens of Elysium must adapt to modern ways, as much as some may protest. Even the Underworld changes with the times, albeit slowly, but we do change. Our town is half-living, as you know, and so there is no good reason to hang on to outdated traditions. I have no interest in using a man who claims unearned authority to dole out these stories one by one and then claim credit for writing them. You will only hear them straight from the breath in my lungs to your ears. There will be no in between.
Asteria Blackwell:With this I am establishing the very first Elysium radio station, Elysium Public Radio, which will bring you stories from the library and other news in Elysium. Hearing the stories from a woman may feel odd to some of you. I do understand, but I ask you to keep an open mind. I realize some of you, dear souls, have been here much longer than the others and that you may prefer the old ways, but I hope you will give me a chance. If you must, maybe you can close your eyes and pretend I am a large, hairy man whispering gently in your ear. Now I have a handful of supporters to thank for making Elysium Public Radio possible.
Asteria Blackwell:One of our platinum patrons is the Elysium Apple Festival Committee and they have asked me to share the following the Elysium Apple Festival Board invites everyone out to the golden fields for our annual Idunn Apple Festival. We will have apple dunking, apple hunting, apple recipes, fried apples, apple cider, apple cider donuts, apple tea, apple races and kettle corn. Our apples are guaranteed to take a minimum of 10 years off of you, for when they come from the Orchards of Idunn they are renowned for their age-reversing properties. The Idunn Apple Festival has been voted the best apple festival in the entire underworld, so don't fall for the false advertising of the Garden of Eden Festival. Come see what all the fuss is about. Bring a friend or bring an enemy. Both are cool with us, as long as you bring your gold coins. The Idunn Apple Festival will run through the next full moon. Don't miss out. And that sounds lovely. I will certainly be at that festival.
Asteria Blackwell:And for our second platinum patron, here's Crazy Nero's used chariots. Crazy Nero wants you to come visit him at his pre-owned chariot lot. He has a new shipment in and he has single chariots, double chariots, family-sized chariots and even emperor-sized chariots, and he has anything from two wheels to four wheels, to spiked wheels with gold rims. All pre-owned chariots have passed a multi-point inspection and for just two gold coins down, you can drive off with your own wheels. So come on down today. Note, horses are not included. Thank you, crazy Nero.
Asteria Blackwell:Who is bringing you the weather. We sit at the cusp of Dark Spring. Buds on the living side of town are rising up towards a golden sun. The ground grows warmer with each passing day and the darkness grows shorter. Snowdrops peak up through icy eyes and the trees are just starting to open their eyes from the winter's sleep. For today, breezes will be soft and cool, but they'll take on a sharp-edged chill once the sun goes down. Keep your long sleeves closed and have firewood chopped for the overnight hours.
Asteria Blackwell:Here on the Underworld side of town, the aurora borealis is going strong overhead. Shafts of green and purple lights sway as curtains and the rivers will reflect it back as mirrors. The ravens will stay quiet for now, but the owls are watching. Near dawn, a light mist will dance through town. Some of you may see a hint of a rainbow. There is the hint of honeysuckle on the wind and we are all beginning to remember the wind. And we are all beginning to remember, and I cannot tell you how glad I am that Dark Ppring is here. Dark Spring is where we are half in winter and half in spring, and we hold days of both seasons and we sway back and forth, rising up from those winter dreams. New things rise, the rivers release their offerings on the shores and stories rise up in the mist. I hope you all can take some time and enjoy this lovely liminal season.
Asteria Blackwell:Next I have an announcement from the Oracle, also known as Big Midge. Big Midge has abandoned the Oracle's sacred cave and temple complex due to ongoing water and mold issues. While this lovely building has served as a sacred space for years, the upkeep is too expensive and she no longer wants to live in a cave. She says her bones are too old and, quote fuck this shit. Plus, she wants a garage for her motorcycle. So, as of now, do not go to the Oracle's temple. It's closed. Big Midge has asked that you email your questions to oracle at asteriablackwellcom and she will give me the answers to pass along. We will have the email address in the show notes, you know good for Big Midge. I'm glad she's upgrading her space. Everyone deserves a nice place to rest that doesn't have mold and spiders, and I for one really like this new system for the oracles. It kind of reminds me of that old Dear Abby column that I used to read when I lived in the above. She was a lovely lady, so, on that note, I have some oracles ready to pass along from Big Midge.
Asteria Blackwell:Oracle number one. Big Midge, please help me. I live next to someone who has a fancy chariot and the alarm keeps going off in the middle of the night and then they don't turn it off. It goes for hours and hours like they can't hear it. I've asked them multiple times to disable the alarm, since they can't hear it anyway, and they've refused. Please help. I haven't been able to get any sleep in weeks, sincerely Sleepless on the Hellespont Parkway. Dear Sleepless in the Hellespont Parkway. On behalf of everyone in Elysium to the dumb shit who can't sort out their chariot alarm, I foresee a visit to the healer if you do not get that alarm fixed. You know who you are, Dag the Bard.
Asteria Blackwell:Oracle number two. Dear Big Midge, what is the meaning of life? Why are we here? Why do we suffer and die and come to Elysium to live out an afterworld experience, just to be reborn and do it all again. Sincerely, asking for everyone, dear, asking for everyone. The answer is 42.
Asteria Blackwell:Oracle number three. Dear sir or madam, I am Prince Tunde from Nigeria. Your help would be very appreciated. I want to transfer all of my fortune outside if Nigeria due to frozen account. If you could be so kind and transfer small sum of $3,500 USD to my account, I would be able to unfreeze my account and transfer my money outside Nigeria. To repay for kindness, I will send $1,000,000 USD to your account. Please contact me to proceed, Dear Prince Tunde, try again. Answer unclear.
Asteria Blackwell:Oracle number four dear Big Midge, every night I wake up to the sounds of whispering, but I live alone. This may sound crazy, but I think the tree outside my window is the one whispering and I don't know what to do. Sincerely, Haunted by a Tree. Dear Haunted by a Tree, the ghosts wait for you to be able to hear them, so their stories can take root in your soul and rise up one by one, until there is nothing in your heart except a forest of stories. You will find yourself there, a ruby-throated oracle with raven wings, the one who will sing into life the memories of the trees. Oracle number five Dear Big Midge, I've lost my keys again. Would you like to come over for dinner Friday evening and help me find them? I'll make your favorite. Brunhild. Dear Brunhild, your keys are in the pants in the dryer. Can you like put a hook beside your door? This is the third time this week you've lost your keys. Thank you, Big Midge, for your oracles. Remember, send her your queries to oracle at asteriablackwell. com and she may grace you with an answer of some kind, which she says may be good or bad. And be sure that you want to know the answer before you ask, because there are no refunds and she is just the messenger. Solid advice for us all, Big Midge.
Asteria Blackwell:The Generally Undead Support Group wants everyone to know they will meet from 7 to 8 pm in the basement of the Elysium Community Center every Tuesday evening. All souls who identify as vampire, strigoi, draugr, mummies or otherwise undead are welcome. Coffee and snacks will be provided and if anyone has any announcements, please pass them along so I can let everyone know. Anyone has any announcements? Please pass them along so I can let everyone know.
Asteria Blackwell:Now, lovely shining souls, it is time for the heart of our broadcast becoming reacquainted with our lost library. A handful of you may remember it from eons ago, but most, including myself, do not. The library is sentient, but what that means is, yes, it holds scrolls and books, but it also holds lost stories and voices, the words of those who cannot or could not write down their own, be they lost to time, colonization or patriarchy. The words of the souls that were burned, killed or just worked to death. It holds the stories of the trees, those that lived and those that got cut down. It holds stories of ghosts and shades, of gods and queens long forgotten. It holds the songs of the stars and stones, of moss and mushrooms. It holds the stories of us all. Our library is beautiful. I hope one day you will come for a visit and remember library cards are free to all.
Asteria Blackwell:It stands in its old home across from the Agora. As you approach, the ground rises up and up and up, helping you towards the doors. A soft breeze caresses your face in welcome. The library may appear like a normal temple upon first glance. There are great columns of marble, yes, but as you draw closer you realize half the columns are sycamore trunks, as white and smooth as any marble column. Those sycamores stand as the caryatids of ancient Greece did, those immense statues of the priestesses holding up the ceilings of the temples. These sycamore priestesses form the roof that protects the stories of the world. This is their life of service. Those priestesses have arched their limbs out and up into a vaulted cathedral ceiling as tall and magnificent as any Notre Dame or Rouen cathedral that stands in the living world.
Asteria Blackwell:Depending on the hour, you may find dappled sunlight filtering down into the inner sanctum, down onto marble floors half covered in mossy mounds fit for curling up to read for hours. I am sitting on one now. In fact, this is the most comfortable moss I've ever sat in, and I have sat in the moss of Asphodel Meadows. As the sun sleeps, the constellations swirl overhead the Via Galactica, the Silver River, the Milky Way shines as Orion, the Pleiades and Cassiopeia all swim by in stately silence. Moonflowers open and offer up their siren scent and the favored luna moss swim around the persimmon trees. The moss is soft to the touch. It smells clean like the edge of spring. Off to the touch, it smells clean like the edge of spring. If you look closely at the moss rising up on the trunks that hold up the roof, you can see tiny mushrooms no larger than a grain of rice.
Asteria Blackwell:There is nothing but peace in this place. The lanterns that hold the fire of knowledge have been relit and crackle. Endless rows of shelves are filled with books, scrolls, tablets, and they radiate out from the center. Once you enter and you look down each row, you'll see trees interspersing the rows. It is not only human stories that live here. Ghosts and shades wait patiently, holding on to their memories with tight fingers. Incense wafts here and there, sweet and a little sharp, clearing the mind and soul. A moon-faced owl sits high in the branches with sapphire blue eyes, eyes that see old gods and old souls. It holds the keys to another lost building still waiting to be found. The scrolls rustle on their shelves, waiting A few books and papyri fly about. Sometimes single scraps of paper flitter down from an unknown space in the ceiling with a few sentences or words. There are piles of these scraps all along the floor, like a forest floor covered in autumn leaves. As I speak this to you now, I can hear the cicadas beginning their evening song and somewhere in the far reaches of the stacks a story is singing, but not in any language I can understand.
Asteria Blackwell:I am still finding new rooms and spaces. I have yet to find my office, but the front desk is clean and open for business. There is a card catalog which works well for the newer books, but less so for the non-book books and I am still sorting out a better system for those. I am happy to begin checking out items immediately, and all are welcome to come and sit and study or read, and for those who do not have the privilege of an education, we will be offering reading lessons and I am happy to help anyone in this area.
Asteria Blackwell:These stories have waited long to be found and are eager to be told. I will do my best to honor them, this place and you for supporting us in this endeavor. This is our great lost Library of Elysium, home at last, the shining beacon of knowledge and learning. Twice a month we will bring you a story from the archives, so be sure to join me as we explore this magical world. We, by which I mean me and the library, are excited to share these stories with you.
Asteria Blackwell:I welcome your feedback. Please email me at asteria at asteriablackwell. com, which I will also have in the written show notes, or stop by the main circulation desk for a chat. My name is Asteria Blackwell and you have been listening to Stories from the Lost Library on Elysium Public Radio. This has been a production of Elysium Public Radio and Sandy Lynn Studio. Our music is written and performed by Scott Buckley. Today's story was written and narrated by Sandy Lynn. Follow us on Instagram and TikTok under the handle Asteria Blackwell For more information on the show or to obtain a library card for the Lost Library of Elysium. Then find us on Substack at asteriablackwell. substack. com.