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, 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. 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. Welcome back, dearest listeners. I hope you are having a fine day, hopefully curled up in your favorite spot with your favorite beverage, book and a furry friend.
Asteria Blackwell:I must say that everyone's response to our long-lost library and its story has been more than I could ever have imagined. I have sat at the front desk for the last few weeks and I cannot tell you how wonderful it has been to watch literally thousands of curious souls cross our threshold. We've been handing out library cards left and right. Reading clubs have already popped up from patrons bumping into each other in the same sections of the library. I've personally witnessed at least three couples on dates including Achilles and Patroclus. It's just how wonderful. And on every single person has been the same expression of wonder on their faces as they walk in, their mouths drop open, their eyes go wide as they get their first glimpse of the endless books and canopy of trees. It is a most sacred experience and I am honored to hold space for it.
Asteria Blackwell:The library is also well pleased to be back where it belongs. It has been humming non-stop and I believe it's already doubled in size once more, but I can't be sure I can tell you. The branches may reach out to caress your cheeks and you may feel warm breezes that smell of citrus and clove as you wander. And that is the library saying hello and welcome. One word of caution for new library patrons if you wander into the stacks, please have a way to help you find your way back out. I suggest bringing a long piece of thread. I know some of you may wish to use breadcrumbs, but this library is half forest, which means there are several creatures who may use your trail as a mid-morning snack. We've located everyone who has gotten lost so far, or at least we think we have, but it does take some time and that's why we encourage a bit of help in wayfinding. We're working on signage, but please use common sense and caution when wandering into a mythical library.
Asteria Blackwell:Having thousands of souls coming in to visit this great library has reinforced in me just how vital it is for everyone to have access to such a space of learning. We bar no one in these halls, regardless of what gender you may be, how much money you have, or even if you can read or not. Many of you who have been residents of Elysium for long periods of time may have never had an opportunity to learn to read or write, or even see a book in person. Perhaps you lived during the age of the great storytellers, the bards, the rhapsodes, the scalds, the weavers of words, who are all a library's worth of stories in themselves. Yet when those storytellers died, the words they carried died with them. Certainly, others might have picked up where they left off, but how many stories have been lost to time just because no one was left to carry them? This well-founded fear drove many to begin writing tales down when possible. But again, the ability to write was a very precious skill. Who held the purse strings for that education? Who decided who would be educated? Who paid for the writer's time, the ink and the vellum skins or papyrus sheets? Writing stories instead of speaking them was a very pricey endeavor. Reading and writing eventually spread to many minds and hands, and the words they captured has opened worlds otherwise unknown to millions of souls. These books hold freedom. They hold knowledge, our histories, our failures and achievements. They hold our souls and they remember who we are.
Asteria Blackwell:So, dear readers, I say all of this because I wish to discuss a few slightly odd situations I have encountered recently. While I love the convenience of email, it does tend to allow people to hide in anonymity, and that's what happened with one communication that came in just recently. The author only used a long string of numbers to identify themselves. Naturally, it says "Dear Madam, I understand you claim to have discovered, in quotes, the lost library of Elysium. Of course, you have brought this thing to our town without gaining approval of the citizens of Elysium, citizens who have serious questions and concerns when a fantastical half-forest library suddenly appears in the middle of town, To which I say a valid point yes, it was sudden, but that cannot be helped. The letter goes on. How can one say for certain that this is truly the lost library of Elysium? Has it been verified by an independent team of reviewers? Do you have Providence paperwork? Have you had any experts at the university authenticate anything about it? Well, to that I say how many lost libraries of this scope and size do you believe there to be? How many apology libraries did the goddess Athene dream up, and how would anyone at the university be able to authenticate it if they know nothing about it? The letter goes on.
Asteria Blackwell:What kind of degree does a high priestess possess? You realize you need a terminal degree to be a librarian. Do you have your PhD or your Master of Library Science degree? Where did you earn it and is the school certified? Have you been published in academic journals? Who has vouched for the information housed in your library? How does one properly notate the story of a sycamore tree and a gray wolf? Do you use MLA for that, or is there a format established? Well, I have no idea what any of that means and frankly, it sounds rather boring. How you measure this library against whatever standards you have set up is entirely up to you. Well, I have no idea what any of that means and, frankly, it sounds rather boring. How you measure this library against whatever standards you have set up is entirely up to you.
Asteria Blackwell:My only qualifications are that I have been an acolyte of learning, knowledge and the tales this library holds for my entire life, for whatever that is worth these days. I'm not sure that that is the answer that you are seeking. Probably not, but it's the best one I have, so let me do this. Instead, I am offering an invitation to anyone from the university to come and examine our library for themselves. Talk to me as a person and let's solve these issues with the power of learning, of figuring things out. That is what the spirit of our Library of Elysium calls for. We are both acolytes of the act of learning and knowledge, so let us act like them and knit together a solution that serves us all.
Asteria Blackwell:Next up is a slightly more involved problem. Now, for the record, I do not normally like to bring attention to problem situations, but I do feel the need to describe this one, as rumors seem to be flying around town and I want to set the record straight. First, I received this email right after we opened. Get thee out, satan, get this devil library out of Elysium and into hell, where it belongs. Repent and know the end is near. Yada yada, yada Revelations, yada yada. Christians have chimed in.
Asteria Blackwell:In addition to sending me several more letters filled with the same hate and Bible verses, they then took to making scenes outside our front doors. There's a lot of yelling, a lot of hand-painted signs being waved about, etc. One man in particular comes almost every day, and he spends his time shouting the same things that he has already written to us about. He tries to spray patrons with holy water, and just yesterday I caught him building a witch-burning pyre, as he called it. He did manage to get it lit, but the water nymphs who inhabit the fountain outside had a field day scorching him with water and putting out the fire. He then spent the better part of an hour damning them for their actions, but eventually he just ran out of dry matches and had to give up for the day. I do feel sorry for him to be so filled with so much hate, but I can't have him scaring people off or the fates forbid setting them on fire. So I did go to speak with him directly.
Asteria Blackwell:The man who calls himself a deacon wanted to let me know that he felt the library was a work of the devil. I gently reminded him that he was in the underworld proper and that the Christians have yet to find any evidence of their so-called devil here in these realms, or their God for that matter. I have to say that every time I pass their cathedral, I always see thousands of Christians loitering at the bus stop, waiting for someone named Jesus to come and pick them up. Some have apparently been waiting for centuries and perhaps someone should break the news to them that he's not coming. As one of our new Young Living patrons said, it sounds like they got ghosted. Move on already. And I couldn't agree more. But regardless, this deacon had the nerve to tell me that it was his mission to destroy the library because it was full of Satan's words and it goes against their theology. Yada, yada, yada on repeat.
Asteria Blackwell:The deacon also mentioned that too many of their nuns which I understand to be women they've imprisoned in the cathedral to do the laundry of the priests have left the grounds to do the laundry of the priests, have left the grounds to come explore the library, and now at least one nun is missing and the others are asking too many questions. He said quote we can't afford to lose more nuns because we already must import them from other lands and I'd like the missing ones back because laundry is piling up. Ah, what a life those nuns must live. Can you imagine having your only reason for existence to be to wash the dirty underwear of men? Those are the people I feel sorriest for, those who have been told over and over they have no purpose. They have no, no value and their only good is work meals. So I wish to make this official announcement. If there is anyone who wishes to escape such an existence, perhaps such as these nuns, I offer up a sanctuary for you. If you find your way here or find a way to ask for help, I will offer you food, shelter and a job, so long as you come of your own free will and vow not to bring those hateful constructs into this space. And just for the record, the nun is not missing. I know exactly where she is at and she is finally happy and safe and not doing laundry.
Asteria Blackwell:All right, dear listeners, enough of that drivel, let's speak of more interesting items. The Generally Undead Support Group is still meeting every Tuesday from 7 to 8 pm at the Elysium Community Center, and I've been asked to pass along that a new support group has just formed for those whose lives have been wrecked by a Mount Olympus god be it rape, being shifted into an animal unwillingly killed, or had your liver eaten by an eagle or been devoured by your father. You should know that there is space and support for you. This new group will meet on Thursday evenings from 7 to 8 pm at the community center, it has been noted that a group of feral ravens has been spotted graffitying the walls of the amphitheater with rather rude limericks. If anyone has any information or knows who to contact to get them to stop or perhaps speaks Corvid please contact Dave with the Public Works Department.
Asteria Blackwell:Now it's time to turn our attention to the weather, both here in the underworld and in the upper world side of town. Dark spring has finally arrived, wrapped in a bluster of wind, rain and a smattering of snow. Only the bravest buds have dared to open soft petals to these cold skies, but many more are following suit. These rains are here to wash away the last of winter's grasp, to shake off what sleep holds tight and to bring us all awake. For the next several days expect cold rain, showers, resist planting. Anything that has not determined for itself it can brave the chilly nights, and that includes you. The world is waking up, casting off sleep and dreams. New lives are beginning, new growth is emerging. Know that, even if the winter took you down to bare roots, that even death dies in the spring and we can always begin again. So to you watching the Aurora Borealis, to those watching the world come out of hibernation. Welcome back to this new life. Let's make it a good one.
Asteria Blackwell:Big Midges Oracles are brought to you today with support from Dionysus Winery, where they want me to let you know that the classic Jug of Wine is on sale this month. Buy one, get one half off. Sale this month Buy one, get one half off. And if you are a member of the Dionysian Mystery Cult then you get triple reward points for each purpose. Remember, when you think drunk, think Dionysus. Now I must say that Big Midge's idea of having you submit your queries to her via email has been an overwhelming success. It's much easier to send an email than trudge out to the old Oracle's temple, so let's embrace this as a positive change. Remember, if you have queries for her, please email oracle at hysteriablackwellcom and she will give me the answers to pass along.
Asteria Blackwell:Big Midge wants everyone to know she absolutely loves her new house. There's no hint of mold and it is much warmer than the cave. I had tea with her the other day and I must say I love what she has done with the place so far. It's warm and cozy, with lots of natural light, a far cry from the old temple that was in major need of restoration. She has started a night-blooming garden which is full of moonflowers and evening primrose and night-blooming jasmine. Thousands of moss descended on us in the moonlight even our dear luna moss and made themselves drunk from the scent of the flowers. It's a lovely and serene home.
Asteria Blackwell:Here are the questions and responses directly from Big Midge herself. Oracle number one Dear Big Midge, this may be a strange query, but a group of river sprites has approached me to join them in battle against a beaver building a dam away up from their riverside city. This dam is causing major issues, namely with diverting the river. They need for survival. I'm all for helping, but I don't really see myself as a warrior and I'm not sure what to do. Sincerely, do we really need to go to war? Do we Really Need to Go to War, dear? Do we really need to go to war? Ride at dawn, take every sword you can muster. The cost may be high and it will take work to make things right, but you will prevail. Beware of teeth.
Asteria Blackwell:Oracle number two dear Big Midge, how does one get into Valhalla? I have a sword. I've killed some things. I'm a pretty badass warrior, if I say so myself. I've got a hundred ladies swooning over me and they're singing songs about me at the local tavern. I'm pretty sure I meet all the requirements, so I'd like an invite. Sincerely, alpha. Dear Alpha, that is a question for a Valkyrie, not an Oracle. As you are aware, only Valkyries can bring warriors into Valhalla. Maybe they just don't like you, I don't know. Have you tried asking nicely? Tried asking nicely. Oracle number three dear Big Midge, I've asked a rather fascinating woman out multiple times by inviting her over to my house to help find my keys. I don't think she gets that. I'm asking her out on a date. She just keeps telling me where my keys are. How could I phrase this in a way that she'll understand? Sincerely, brunhild. Dear Brunhild, oh, why? Yes, I would love to come over for dinner. Thank you very much. Will Friday work? Excellent, thank you, big Midge, and best of luck on your date. Again, if you have questions for the Oracle, please drop her a line at oracle, at asteriablackwellcom.
Asteria Blackwell:Now, dear listeners, it is time for a story from the library. This one found me, fortunately, as I was exploring deep in the stacks one sunny afternoon. I was somewhere near the section for classic tales as told by newts, toads and frogs. Or maybe it was near the section on dreams, I forget, but as I perused I heard a strange noise coming from a far aisle. It sounded like a rustling or maybe a hissing. It was hard to tell, but I swear that sound began to call my name. My name, not my title as priestess or my role as librarian, but my name as woman Asteria, it whispered. Asteria. Thankfully, I had an extra roll of ribbon, so I asked the olive tree to hold one in for me and I took the other and went out towards what called me.
Asteria Blackwell:I walked for ages further and further into the deepest sections. I used all my ribbon and had to resort to pulling books from shelves and leaving them on the ground as a makeshift pathway. Books from shelves and leaving them on the ground as a makeshift pathway. The light grew dim and shadowed and a strange, deeply dense grove of trees began to crowd me in. They were all alight, with deep red leaves, and the color of their bark seemed to run red too. On and on, the whispers called me forward.
Asteria Blackwell:Listeners, I must tell you. What I witnessed next was both majestic and horrifying. Please, before I continue, I want you to take a moment with me to breathe in deeply down into your chest and diaphragm and when you release it, put up any mental wards you may need for the next several minutes. I have dreams of this encounter every night now and it has barely left my waking mind. It has left such a permanent mark on my soul I'm not quite sure how to process this yet. I rather think it will take a long time, maybe centuries, I'm not sure.
Asteria Blackwell:I came to a clearing in those trees, a small one, no more than a few paces in any direction. A thick carpet of fallen red leaves covered the center of the clearing, and in the middle lay the headless body of a woman. She had not decayed in any way. A gentle current of blood flowed around her, blood that shimmered red and gold, blood that shimmered red and gold. Her white garments, edged in gold, remained unstained and undamaged. She seemed to float there, serene, suspended. In this moment that was both horrible and beautiful. There was a quiet pulse of vibration in the ground, a heartbeat. Pulse of vibration in the ground, a heartbeat Without a doubt.
Asteria Blackwell:I knew in my bones that I had come across the living heart of our library, the most vulnerable and sacred spot hidden in the furthest reaches. I'd rather say the spot may not reveal itself to everyone who goes searching for it At some point maybe minutes later or hours, I can't say but there was a shadow of movement and suddenly beside me was the most beautiful ghost I had ever seen. She had long black hair that fell in curls down her back and a golden diadem pinned at the top. Around her upper arm was a golden snake bracelet that held a single ruby eye shining in the darkness. She had her face turned towards the body in front of us. Please sit, she said. The body in front of us, please sit, she said. A marble bench appeared behind us and I sank down onto it. The ghost with me. You understand who I once was, do you not? She asked. I would be a poor librarian and an even poorer priestess of Athene's library library if I did not. Lady Medusa, I replied.
Asteria Blackwell:As soon as Athene's name crossed my lips, the ghost stiffened and I realized that that was the wrong thing to say. I should have known better, but my brain seemed to not be working properly. My brain seemed to not be working properly. I have no desire to speak of her. Medusa said the words quick and pointed as a stake.
Asteria Blackwell:I caught sight of something in the shadows a glint of silver, like a helmet catching sunlight. The hairs on the back of my neck raised and I was certain we were not alone, but Medusa seemed not to notice. She said nothing for a long time, keeping her eyes fixed on the body. I want to tell a different piece of my tale, if you would hear it. She turned to me then. Enough for me to see her eyes, the sort of eyeshine that you see in wild animals, except hers was shining silver as the moon. Nothing would please me more than to hear it and share it if you wish. I replied. I turned my body away from the shadows in the forest and faced her. She nodded, looked down and placed her hands silently in her lap. And so be it. I withdrew a small notebook from my traveling bag. I learned to never go anywhere without one. I had my pencil and I opened to a fresh page.
Asteria Blackwell:He took my head, medusa began. I didn't need to ask who took it, for it was always a man. His name has been spoken aloud enough that I will not do it here, not now. He has enough books of his story story, she continued. He took my head and turned it into his trophy, holding it up for the entire world to see how powerful he was, but he didn't bother to tell the world. He attacked me in my sleep when I was defenseless, when I could offer no fight. Even with that advantage, he still needed divine help from the gods and her mind, you feeding him directions and special gifts so that he could accomplish this unnecessarily gruesome goal. And for what reason? For nothing other than an old king's fear. I still hear that shout of victory ringing in my ears, just as loud now that I am a shade, just as loud as when I first heard them watching my body fall to the ground.
Asteria Blackwell:Medusa paused and I sat silent waiting. A single oak leaf fluttered to the ground, yet he so casually forgot about the rest of me. She said the body and the womb left behind to rot considered unimportant, extraneous, nothing to bother with. For what power could be had from a woman's body? Nothing, he assumed. So he walked off to display his trophy, only earned because of borrowed knowledge and stolen strength. Without a second thought, I turned my eyes back to that body. Now, realization setting in Medusa's head had been paraded around for centuries and Athene had taken it and affixed it to her shield. Medusa had been nothing but a weapon. Even in death, the body had never been affected by the terrible curse laid upon the head. For those of you who fell asleep in your mythology classes, medusa was once a priestess in Athene's temple, but Poseidon brutally assaulted her in the temple and, as a result, her once beautiful hair was turned into a mess of snakes and her eyes would turn anyone she looked upon to stone. Everyone wanted the weapon her eyes had become, but no one cared about the rest of her.
Asteria Blackwell:Women like me, the ones who show our anger and bare our teeth. We become beacons for the swords and arrows of spineless men. The angrier I became, the more my blood called out to them. Like a siren, it clawed into their brains and whispered of how pitiful, how weak, how truly mortal they were, and that no one would bother to remember them when they are gone. She looked up to the sky. He killed me for that anger, and there was nothing left after that. My life ended in a moment, and yet my rage did not quit me. I am still tethered here to this angry body, this river of blood that refuses to cease, no matter how badly I wish it would.
Asteria Blackwell:We sat in silence for a long while. I'm tired of being angry. She whispered I want to be happy, I want to be free, whispered I want to be happy, I want to be free. A flash of pink and green caught my eye and I saw that my dear friend, the Luna Moth, had swept in and landed on Medusa's knee. She flexed her wings and waited for me to translate. She is asking if you wish to come with her. I, luna, waved her antenna at me and I went on. If you choose, she will enchant you with a body like hers and you can fly wherever you choose and no one will. She is asking if you wish to come with her. I said luna waved her antenna at me and she is asking if you wish to come with her. I said luna waved her antenna and I went on. If you choose, she will enchant you with a body like hers and you can fly wherever you choose and answer to no one for as long as you desire.
Asteria Blackwell:Medusa looked at me and then back down to the Luna moth shimmering on her leg. Back down to the Luna Moth shimmering on her leg. Truly, she asked I would be free of this body, of it all. Truly I said, and with that I said the spell that would allow her to understand the language of the moss, a spell I learned many winters ago from a goddess of spring. Luna then repeated her offer and Medusa put a hand to her mouth in shock. I can understand her. She said she sounds beautiful and yes, yes, I want to come with you. Then so be it, luna said. Medusa's ghost shimmered softly for a moment and then morphed into a spectacular Luna moth with blood red edges on her wings, shifting into a soft green in the middle. She flexed those new wings once, twice, and then her and Luna took off to the stars, leaving me alone with a corpse among the ruby red trees.
Asteria Blackwell:Her story buzzed in my bones as I sat and watched them fly away, until a hefty rustle scared me enough that I dropped my notebook and pencil into that pool of blood. I dropped my notebook and pencil into that pool of blood. I looked up just as a large white owl soared overhead opposite of the direction of the moths. Athene had been eavesdropping, so it seems. I retrieved my notebook and I am happy to report that, though the blood soaked through all of the pages, it did not mar a single word. I had recorded that blood does make one's skin tingle and for nearly a week I have been writing non-stop and dreaming of that encounter. And I am shunned sure as I retrieved my notebook and I'm happy to report that, even though the blood soaked all the way through the pages, it did not mar a single word I had recorded. The touch of that blood does make one's skin tingle and for nearly a week I had been non-stop and dreaming of that encounter. I don't know if it will stop. Medusa's blood has ignited a fire in me, one of rage and newfound hope, and I can only wish that her words will do the same for the ones who need to hear them most.
Asteria Blackwell:Dear listeners, I must tell you how deeply this story has altered the very core of me. Medusa, like so many others, has waited alone to be found and heard. It is my honor to hold this place for them and for you, in supporting this endeavor. This is our great lost library of Elysium, home at last, the shining beacon of knowledge and learning. Twice a month, I 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 this library are excited to share these stories with you.
Asteria Blackwell:I welcome your feedback. Please email me at asteria, at asteriablackwellcom, which I will also list 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 Lin. 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, or perhaps to join our mystery cult. Then find us on Substack at asteriablackwellsubstackcom.